‘Good Lord, there’s a Sheela-na-gig on the wall of the refectory!’ Keelin pointed to the carving of the naked woman with an exaggerated vulva. ‘That would have been placed to ward off evil and also used to celebrate the Mother goddess and fertility,’ she explained, loving the female energy that emanated from the very stones of the cloister.

‘Saoghal Nam Ban, World of Women,’ Imelda read the plaque, illustrating the nunnery as it was. ‘Look at the dormitory—’

‘Oh, and look at this,’ exclaimed Brigid, ‘Seòmar Blátchaidh. The Warming Room. This was where the poor craythurs came to thaw out on cold days. It was the only place where a fire burned. Can you imagine how cold it was here in the depths of winter?’

‘Eeeewwww, I like my comforts, I doubt I was ever a nun in any past life, no matter what you say,’ Imelda declared, glad the sun was warm on her face, even though it was so breezy. ‘Now why do you suppose some of those gravestones are bigger than others?’ She pointed to a line of flat, grey slate slabs in an enclosure at an outer wall. ‘Did it signify rank? Did the Mother Superior get a bigger slab stone than the ordinary nuns, do you think?’ she asked her sister.

Brigid shook her head. ‘I don’t know the answer to that, Imelda. Maybe some of the nuns were fatter than others. It could be that simple,’ she shrugged.

Imelda’s jaw dropped and she broke into chortles of laughter. ‘ “Fatter than others!” You always were funny, Brigid,’ she said fondly, and Keelin looked at Marie-Claire and gave a tiny wink, loving that her mother was starting to enjoy herself.

They wandered around, immersing themselves in the history, wishing they could stay longer but knowing their time on the island was limited. The abbey held another treasure trove of discoveries that would have needed a day at least to study everything but it was the cloister walkway in the medieval part that most resonated with Keelin. ‘The Cathars were here – look at that sculpture. It’s like the one in Minervois. Remember I took you there, Mère?’

‘I do. I remember that beautiful dove sculpture that the sun shone through,’ Brigid said.

‘Look how they use the dove, here. The symbol of the Magdalene. I know she was on Iona. There are even rumours she’s buried here.’ Keelin traced her fingers along a carved pillar. ‘I’d like to come back and explore that mound we saw. There’s something about it that draws me to it. Pity we can’t stay longer,’ she said regretfully, glancing at her watch.

‘I thought she was buried in Saint-Maximin-la-Sainte-Baume in Southern France.’ Brigid looked surprised.

‘Not buried, but she is supposed to have lived in a cave there and healed the sick, for part of her life,’ Keelin said.

‘And what about Rennes-le-Château?’ ‘Marie-Claire arched a quizzical eyebrow.