‘Did you have a good flight?’ Imelda made an effort.

‘I did. It was very smooth and it was such a treat to have Marie-Claire waiting for me in Arrivals. I’m so glad she’s back in Ireland for good.’

‘Is she going to stay, do you think?’ interjected Brigid as they crossed the foyer. ‘She was a bit betwixt and between when I saw her last. Couldn’t decide what to do.’

‘I think so. She’s moved back into the house and earlier today she got a job offer in post-production, which is where her heart lies. As I said to her, Mary Magdalene is working her magic!’ Keelin smiled at her aunt, who was waving at Marie-Claire.

She jumped out of the car when she saw them and kissed Imelda and Brigid.

‘You sit in the front, Keelin, Imelda and I will get in the back.’ Brigid took charge, thinking it might be awkward if Imelda and Keelin were sitting in the back, not knowing what to say to each other.

Keelin leapt into the front of the car with alacrity. The last place she wanted to be was sitting beside her mother, trying to make polite chitchat.

‘I’ve a beef casserole in the oven. You’ll be my first guests, for dinner. I hope you’re hungry, because I’m starving,’ Marie-Claire said over her shoulder as they set off.

‘We had a delicious lunch earlier, in the hotel, but I’m beginning to feel peckish all right.’ Imelda settled herself comfortably, beginning to relax.

‘That sounds tasty,’ Brigid approved, wondering would it be better to clear the air with everyone over dinner, so that they wouldn’t all be walking on eggshells for the duration of their trip to Scotland. How many times had she sat at dinners with her community after a row had taken place and antagonism had crackled around the table, despite the silence, while they ate?

Perhaps they should wait, at least until the meal was over. No point in ruining Marie-Claire’s first dinner party. ‘Tell us about the new job offer Keelin mentioned, Marie-Claire.’ Brigid moved the conversation to another safe topic.

Her grand-niece turned onto the Ballymun Road and regaled them with tales of her time in college with Frankie, and his job offer to her.

‘And what will the fella in Toronto have to say about that?’ Imelda queried.

‘He can say what he likes, Granny. It’s got nothing to do with him. I’m my own woman and I make my own decisions,’ Marie-Claire retorted.

‘It really is a time for women to come into their own in Ireland now, isn’t it?’ Brigid remarked. ‘So different from our day, Imelda. It’s wonderful to see women standing together and standing up for one another to repeal the Eighth.’

Imelda did a double-take at her sister’s words. ‘But you’re a nun, Brigid – surely you wouldn’t be voting yes to abortion?’