‘It was the thing I was happiest at. A time when I felt my life and work was worthwhile. And I loved minding the children,’ Brigid confided.

‘Of course your work was worthwhile. Why would you think otherwise?’ Imelda was surprised at Brigid’s comment.

‘Ah I suppose when you hear all the terrible things done in the name of the Church, like the revelations about the Tuam babies’ mass grave . . . It’s very upsetting. And then there’s the stuff that’s come to light about cases of sexual abuse by the clergy – enabled by the Pope, cardinals, and bishops. I can’t help thinking to myself: this was the organization I worked my whole life for, and encouraged countless African parents and children to follow.’ Brigid gave another sigh that came from the depths of her.

‘That Tuam’s a terrible scandal all right. Those poor children.’ Imelda saw the glimmer of tears in her sister’s eyes and felt an uncharacteristic and surprising pang of sympathy for Brigid. ‘We hear all about the bad ones, the cruel nuns in the Magdalene laundries and the orphanages, we don’t hear about the good ones like you and all the other nursing and teaching nuns, and Missionaries who gave up their lives in the service of others,’ Imelda said supportively.

‘That’s very true. Good deeds don’t make the headlines. We did our caring in different ways, you and I. But we made a difference to people’s lives. We brought ease to hardship, Imelda. You didn’t have it easy.’

The olive branch was held out, and Brigid waited for the usual rant to follow. But Imelda looked into the distance and said slowly, ‘I didn’t. I certainly didn’t. But I suppose in our own way we did bring ease. I never thought of it like that. I was full of resentment at the time, to tell you the truth.’

‘That’s understandable,’ Brigid conceded.

‘I’ve a full bladder too.’ Imelda grinned. ‘And it’s feeling a mite resentful – I’d better get in and pee.’ She wriggled in her seat.

‘Old age is a terrible thing. The leaky bladder is the worst,’ Brigid grimaced. Now that Imelda had mentioned it, she could do with going to the loo herself. ‘This looks very nice, Imelda. I feel guilty spending money on a fancy hotel room.’ Brigid gazed out at the hotel entrance where well-turned-out people entered and exited, some pulling cases, others looking very businesslike in smart suits.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, you deserve it – besides, it’s not that fancy.’

‘I’m not used to staying in hotels and taking holidays abroad,’ Brigid pointed out, unclipping her seat belt.

‘Get used to it,’ Imelda retorted. ‘There’s no pockets in a shroud. And don’t you dare leave any of that money John gave you to the Church.’