‘It’s so peaceful here, isn’t it?’ Brigid sat on one of the wooden pews and let the tranquillity of the place wash over her.

‘Why don’t we have our flask of tea here? There isn’t a soul around. I don’t think Jesus and the Magdalene would mind,’ Marie-Claire suggested, gasping for a cuppa. They had bought a flask and a carton of milk in Fionnphort, and the landlady had filled it with boiling water for them and given them a handful of teabags to take with them for their trip.

‘Great idea,’ agreed Imelda, who was wandering around looking at the intricately carved pulpit upon which rested a Bible. It wasn’t a Catholic church, and didn’t have the solemnity of one, so she felt she could drink tea and not feel she was being too disrespectful.

Marie-Claire went out to the car and carried in the plastic bag with the flask and biscuits, then busied herself pouring out the tea. Keelin opened the chocolate biscuits and they sat companionably enjoying the welcome brew, feeling quite at home in the mystical, magical energy, under the benevolent gaze of the Divine Couple in the beautiful stained-glass window, in a little chapel perched on a hill in the middle of nowhere.

*

‘I’ve something else to tell ye,’ Imelda confessed, her cheeks rosy from the champagne she’d imbibed earlier. The four of them were sitting around the fire in a cosy nook of a hotel in Tobermory, a coastal town not far from Dervaig. They’d eaten dinner and repaired to the lounge for coffee and a glass of Baileys.

Keelin felt a pang of anxiety, waiting to hear what her mother was going to spring on them next. ‘What’s that?’ she murmured apprehensively.

‘Ah don’t worry, it’s nothing serious like earlier,’ Imelda chuckled. ‘Do you know what I did?’

‘What?’ Marie-Claire grinned. Imelda didn’t realize it, but she was slightly tipsy.

‘I treated myself to a bit of Botox and a few fillers!’

‘You’re kidding!’ Keelin exclaimed, hardly able to believe her ears.

‘I knew there was something different about you. Didn’t I say that to you, Mère, that day we surprised Granny in the supermarket,’ Marie-Claire exclaimed triumphantly.

‘It’s very discreet,’ Imelda said proudly. ‘I went to a surgeon in the Blackrock Clinic. No fly-by-nights for me,’ she smirked.

‘It’s so natural,’ Marie-Claire peered at her.

‘It makes you look very fresh. Did it hurt?’ Brigid was curious.

‘It did; I’m not sure I’d get it done again. I was done in little over an hour.’ Imelda let out a hiccup.

‘What made you decide to do it?’ Keelin asked, marvelling at her mother’s ability to constantly surprise her.