The others laughed at her banter and Keelin was grateful that her daughter was accompanying them. Marie-Claire had an exuberance and lightness of spirit that might get them through their first – and perhaps, last – holiday together, without ending up constantly at each other’s throats. The energy changed from surly petulance to anticipation, and when Marie-Claire returned with a trolley, they cheered and made their way to the bag-drop before heading to security.

Imelda tried not to feel flustered while divesting herself of her coat and scarf. The others were regular travellers. Keelin and Marie-Claire hopped on planes the way others hopped on buses, and she didn’t want to let on how very apprehensive she was about flying on a plane with propellers. She’d butterflies in her tummy and felt queasy with nerves.

Brigid swiftly and efficiently passed through the scan and was already putting her coat back on at the other end of the desk.

‘Let me help you, Gran,’ Marie-Claire offered, neatly arranging her belongings in the tray for her.

‘You’re a kind girl,’ Imelda said gratefully. She should stop fretting. She didn’t have to shoulder the burden of being in charge anymore. It was rather comforting to be minded, she acknowledged, walking through the metal detector. To her dismay she started to beep, and felt a tide of embarrassment flood her. Everybody in the airport was probably looking at her.

‘Do you have any replacement hips or knees?’ the security guard asked matter-of-factly.

‘Oh . . . oh . . . yes . . . yes . . . I do. I got a hip replacement a year ago, it was a complicated one, I nearly—’

‘That’s all right, madam, we’ll just get you patted down,’ the security guard wasn’t interested in hearing about her trials and tribulations with her hip, Imelda thought huffily, and gave him one of her ‘unimpressed’ looks as a female security guard began to frisk her.

‘Now hold on to this and lift your leg,’ the young woman instructed, pointing to a step beside the conveyor belt.

‘What am I? A gymnast?’ Imelda demanded, glaring at the woman as she carried out the instructions.

Marie-Claire caught Keelin’s eye and was afraid she was going to burst out laughing. ‘Thank God we’re in this together,’ Keelin whispered. ‘I do so want to enjoy this trip.’

‘You will,’ Marie-Claire assured her. ‘We’ll buy a bottle of Hendrick’s in the Duty Free and drown our sorrows tonight.’

Keelin laughed. ‘You’re a divil, do you know that?’

‘I do,’ smirked her daughter as she walked, beep-free, through the security arch to join her waiting fellow pilgrims.

*