‘I do. I think it’s important not to let your world shrink. Some women down here say they wouldn’t drive on the M50 for love nor money, but for goodness’ sake if you can drive into Galway in the rush hour you can manage a five-lane highway in America, let alone the M50,’ Imelda scoffed at the notion. ‘Living on my own after Larry died taught me to be very independent.’

‘I can see how it would and I admire that about you, Imelda,’ Brigid remarked before taking a sip of tea.

‘Really?’ Her sister looked momentarily astonished at the notion that Brigid would admire anything about her.

‘Oh yes indeed. You’re very get-up-and-go. I’ve allowed myself to become quite institutionalized in the last decade or so. I scurry back to the safety of the convent, or the Four Winds. I haven’t had to look after myself, as in cooking, shopping for food, and the like, for a long time. I don’t know if I would have the nerve to live on my own now,’ Brigid admitted. ‘I like having company and not being on my own at night.’

‘I’ve no choice,’ Imelda shrugged. ‘And it’s not as great as you might think. It’s lonely rattling around a house on your own. And it’s hard feeling I’m beholden to Cormac and Felicity, although I don’t think they look at it like that. But when the weather was so bad I was depending on them to shop, and clear the drive when I got snowed in. You on the other hand have company, conversation and people to mind you. You wouldn’t, I’d imagine, feel like you’re a nuisance.’

‘No. In fairness to the Order they have always looked after their elderly nuns very well. I’m sorry you’re lonely, Imelda.’

‘Ah, I get on with it. I’m in the ICA and the book club and I play bridge. It’s only when the door closes behind me at night that I feel it. Drink up now and we’ll make a move. There’s no point in paying for a hotel room in Dublin if we don’t make the most of it. If we leave now, we’ll beat the rush hour. We can have a late lunch at the hotel. We could have a rest before Marie-Claire collects us for dinner, after picking up Keelin at the airport.’ Imelda topped up both their cups and emptied and rinsed the teapot and put it away.

‘We should bring a pack of cards with us,’ Brigid suggested. ‘The four of us could play Twenty-Five or Sevens. Remember when we lived at home the mighty games of cards that used to go on?’