‘I bet all those overweight cardinals in Rome tuck into fine food and drink. Mrs Reilly in the Post Office told me, back in the eighties, that her sister’s young lad was doing electrical work in the Bishop’s Palace in Dublin, and he said the black sacks were filled with empty wine bottles – unbelievable! And they made that laddo a cardinal, despite him paying off abusers and hiding the fact. It’s all “do as I say and not as I do”, with them ould yokes! You eat your fry and enjoy it!’ Imelda decreed imperiously, disappearing into the bathroom.

Her sister seemed in good spirits, so Brigid would start afresh this morning, repent her unkind thoughts of the previous evening, and perhaps the trip to Iona – albeit a wet one, judging by the rain-drenched vista outside – would be as happy and exciting as the visit to Rosslyn had been.

*

‘Och, ye’ll nay be travellin’ to Iona this morning. The ferry’s been cancelled,’ their convivial landlady announced matter-of-factly, handing menus to the four women as they sat at the dining table in the bright, airy conservatory listening to the rain hammering on the glass roof. They were the only guests and had the big oval table to themselves.

‘Oh, no.’ Keelin couldn’t hide her disappointment. ‘Will we get there today at all?’

‘Ye may. If the wind dies down. We can have four seasons in one day here on Mull. Dinna give up hope,’ the landlady replied with a laugh, being well used to the vagaries of island weather.

‘Well that puts a damper on things. Excuse the pun,’ Brigid sighed, unable to contain her disappointment. Imelda lifted her head from the menu and laughed.

‘Daddy used to say that, didn’t he? Or he’d say, “Well, what do you want me to do about it? Burst into tears and wear a black tie?” ’

‘Yeah, that always made me laugh.’ Brigid smiled at the memory of her father’s teasing. ‘There’s not much point in us driving around in that weather. What will we do?’ She looked at her companions.

‘Och we won’t throw ye out – relax, read, play cards, hopefully by lunchtime the ferry will be sailing again,’ the landlady said reassuringly.

‘I’ll have the fry with a hard egg,’ Imelda got down to the business of eating. They could work out a plan after breakfast.

‘The scrambled eggs and salmon for me,’ Keelin said.

‘Me too.’ Marie-Claire handed back the menu.

Imelda looked enquiringly at Brigid.

‘A slice of bacon and a sausage, and some toast, please,’ Brigid said. Imelda was right. She was retired, she might as well enjoy it, and besides, she hadn’t gone the whole hog and had the large fry – she was doing well with the puns today, she thought ruefully.