‘Why don’t I make us a pot of tea and I’ll get the chocolate Goldgrain I have stashed in my bag.’ Marie-Claire jumped up and put on the kettle that the landlady had left filled for them, before going across the hall to her ground-floor bedroom.

‘Can you talk to us about why you entered, Mère?’ Keelin reached out and touched her aunt’s shoulder.

‘I’d like to,’ Brigid nodded. ‘I’d like Imelda to know why I’ve lived a lie all these years.’

‘It’s all right, Brigid, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. And I’m sorry for the things I’ve said,’ Imelda said gruffly.

‘I’m sorry too, Imelda, and I have to thank you . . .’

‘For what?’ Her sister sniffed and wiped her eyes.

‘Because you’ve made me face up to and acknowledge the fact that entering was the wrong thing to do – and that’s not easy to deal with sixty-four years or so later.’

The kettle whistled and Keelin busied herself making the tea. This day was not turning out the way she’d imagined, but at last the boil of bitter resentments was being lanced. No wonder they had not been allowed to visit Iona. Keelin knew without a doubt that setting foot on the island would be the most healing thing to ever happen to their family. After all these years, it seemed the peace of Mary Magdalene’s dove was coming upon them. Imelda had been the catalyst. She’d played her part in all their healing.

Marie-Claire came back and shucked the chocolate biscuits onto a plate while her mother poured the tea. She kissed her grandmother and great-aunt. ‘We’re family, that’s all that matters, and we’re together.’

Brigid took a sip of her tea and tried to stop her hands from trembling.

‘Have a biscuit,’ Imelda offered, handing her the plate. ‘You had half a fry for breakfast, you might as well go mad and have a chocolate goody while you’re at it – break all the rules.’ She gave her sister a tremulous smile.

‘Ah sure, maybe I will for the day that’s in it,’ Brigid smiled back and in that moment felt a peace unlike any other settle around her. Whatever their differences, she and Imelda would go back to Ireland with a strengthened bond. Her sister, in a strange way, had freed her from the ties of the sixty-four years of religious life. That was a gift that could not be ignored.

‘You know, Imelda, I envied you so much,’ Brigid confessed, wiping a crumb from her lips.

‘Me! You envied me?’ Imelda squawked in astonishment.