‘We’ll just have to go to visit all these places,’ Imelda’s eyes lit up. ‘You’ve got me hooked, Keelin.’

‘Have I, Mam?’ Keelin laughed. ‘After all these years! Who would have thought it? But if you don’t want to spend the night and tomorrow here, we’d better get a move on. The wind’s getting up again,’ she cautioned, noticing that the sea, though still sparkling in the early afternoon sun, was looking decidedly choppy.

‘We’ll definitely come back.’ She cast a last glance around the arched cloister, filled with the sound of birdsong and the breeze whispering through the grass.

‘Isn’t there an old saying, if you visit Iona once, you’ll come back three times?’ Brigid reminded her.

‘What a peaceful place,’ Imelda said a couple of minutes later, leading the way into a tiny, whitewashed stone chapel with flagged floor, a minuscule stone altar, and triangular candle stand, tucked in the left-hand corner. They each lit a votive candle, the flames flickering into light and illuminating the ancient wall behind them, casting dancing shadows that became one golden glow. Four very different women, and yet . . . not so different . . . joined in a silent prayer of thanks, that love had won out over that which had once divided them.

*

‘Oh wow! Look at that tower. Is this the church? Is that Dervaig across the valley?’ Marie-Claire steered the car round a high narrow bend on the one-track road and saw a pencil-slim white tower in the distance. ‘How very French it looks.’

‘I think so.’ Keelin studied the vista ahead intently, thinking how beautiful the small Scottish village looked nestled against a hillside, the round Magdalene tower almost incongruous in its setting.

‘It’s quite strange, isn’t it, that the tower features so strongly on Iona and Mull? Brigid said.

‘The name Magdalene means ‘Tower’ in Hebrew. Some say that the prioress’s tombstone on Iona depicts Mary Magdalene with the child of Christ, John Martinus, allegedly born on Iona. If this is true, it would suggest that Anna MacLean knew about this legend,’ Keelin told her rapt listeners.

‘How do you know all this?’ Imelda asked, astounded.

‘I’ve been reading about, and studying Mary Magdalene for years. I think that’s why I was drawn to a Frenchman who lives in Magdalene country. This is my life’s work. To bring her to the fore and help restore her to her rightful place in the world, as the equal of Jesus. In the Gnostic texts she is referred to as “the apostle to the apostles”, until she was airbrushed out and branded a fallen woman and a penitent sinner. So now it’s time to restore the balance of the Divine Feminine with the Divine Masculine. We’ve had the patriarchy, and now the pendulum has swung to the other side and men are seen as the enemy. It’s all about bringing back balance.’