‘I will, Mam. I’ll be talking to him later when I can get a signal. It’s not great at the moment,’ Keelin assured her.

‘I . . . em . . . I do love you very much, Keelin. I know I wasn’t a good mother. I’ll try my best from now on to make it up to you,’ Imelda said awkwardly. ‘And I’m very proud of you, the way you help so many people in your retreat place in France. That’s a good thing to do.’

‘Thanks, Mam.’ Keelin swallowed hard, knowing how difficult it was for her mother to apologize, and taken aback but quietly delighted at her praise. ‘Things will only get better for all our relationships from now on. I’m so glad you’re with us.’

‘I’m very glad too,’ Imelda said with heartfelt emotion. She suddenly felt that Larry was very close to them on this trip.

The ferry gave a bumpy shudder as the iron drawbridge lowered onto the ramp and they hastened on deck to disembark.

‘So this is Iona!’ Brigid stared around her at the picturesque village with its cluster of houses and small hotel. Knots of tourists wandered around, and people sat at outside tables in front of a café, eating and drinking. ‘Isn’t it pretty? So many Irish nuns came to the nunnery here when it was founded in AD 1200. I read up on it when I knew we were visiting. Seemingly it’s one of the best-preserved nunneries in Britain. I’m dying to see it,’ she enthused.

‘And I’m dying to see the medieval abbey.’ Keelin felt a burst of anticipation. ‘We have a two-hour window, the captain said, because the wind is to get up again and the ferry could be cancelled. I think we should prioritize those two sites. We can visit the craft shop on the way back and get a take-away tea and sandwich. What do you think?’

‘Let the pilgrimage commence,’ Brigid smiled, pointing to a sign on the end of a row of stone cottages. ‘The abbey and nunnery this away!’

They walked up a narrow hilly road, passing a Spar and craft shop before turning right at a T-junction to turn right again into the nunnery. ‘Well, that took all of a minute. Big place, Iona,’ Marie-Claire grinned as they walked along a stony path to explore the ruins. Part of the church was still upstanding.

‘It’s very Irish too, isn’t it? Those triangular-headed windows and the rib vaulted ceiling can be seen in every church in every small village in Ireland,’ Brigid noted, running her hand along the pink-hued stonework. ‘My goodness, life would have been hard here in the winter. It’s very exposed. Oh look! There’s the cloister. Let’s have a look.’ She took off at a clip.