‘I’m so sorry, Mère, perhaps I shouldn’t have played it,’ Marie-Claire exclaimed, upset to see her beloved Brigid in tears, and nearly in tears herself.

‘No, no! It’s a sacred song. A very empowering song to all of us who’ve lost a child, no matter how the loss occurred,’ Brigid assured her, trying to compose herself. ‘I know now why I was so driven to come to Tuam. I needed to release this grief that I’ve carried most of my life.’

‘Are you sure you’re up to standing with the families, when we get there?’ Keelin asked gently. ‘We can just light a candle ourselves and leave, if you prefer?’

‘I’ll stand with the families, in solidarity,’ Brigid said resolutely. ‘And my tears will mingle with theirs.’

‘We’ll be with you, Brigid. This is one ordeal you won’t have to endure on your own,’ Imelda said firmly, taking her sister’s hand in hers, in the gentlest of clasps.

*

Leaden clouds threatening rain overhung the crowds of people gathering for their silent vigil at the town hall in Tuam, as Brigid and her stalwart companions took their place in line, waiting to begin their walk. The vigil was organized by a Manchester woman whose sister had vanished from a mother-and-baby home, and the crowd resonated with sombre sorrow when the many hundreds of people began their walk at the same time as the Pope was celebrating his Mass in Dublin.

There were no accusatory speeches, no songs of protest, just a dignified recitation of each precious child’s name and age, that seemed to go on for an eternity, there were so many of them. Hundreds of candles, lit in their memory, illuminated the grey, grim afternoon. At the site of the former Bon Secours Home, a special sculpture in the shape of a baptismal font, made by a Flemish woman, was placed under the glowering skies.

Brigid’s lips trembled and she broke down in tears again. The sight of all the small teddy bears and toys posted along the route had seared her heart and she’d struggled not to cry. But now, in this desolate place, her tears overflowed and she wept along with many others.

Marie-Claire moved to comfort her, but Keelin held her back when she saw Imelda wrap her arms around Brigid and draw her sister into a close embrace. Brigid rested her head on Imelda’s shoulder and released her years of pent-up grief and loss.

‘Healing,’ Keelin whispered to her daughter. ‘Difficult as it is, the healing that will come for the both of them, and for me too, today, cannot be described, chérie.’

*

Much later that night, the four of them sat watching the Nine O’Clock News, with segments about the Papal Mass. The concert at the Garden of Remembrance was covered, and then their own silent vigil in Tuam.