Brigid had had a most restful nap, sitting in the rocking chair in her bedroom, listening to the wind-tossed sea swirling and crashing against the rocks and shore. It had been twilight when she fell asleep after her tea and scone, now it was pitch-black outside, apart from the smattering of twinkling lights in Butlersbridge, across the fields, and the homes dotted along the headland speckling the darkness with pinpricks of light.

The sound of voices, and cases being trundled along the landing, had woken her. Brigid felt a fizz of excitement. She was looking forward to catching up with her fellow nuns, some of whom she hadn’t seen in ages. She went to the door and poked her head out, to see Sister Marie-Hélène following Sister Veronique to the rooms at the end of the corridor.

‘Marie-Hélène! Veronique!’ she called, smiling broadly when they turned. They dropped their cases and hurried to her.

‘RM, how are you?’ Marie-Hélène encircled her in an embrace. From beneath her veil, bright green eyes full of love and mischief twinkled at back at Brigid.

‘You look amazing. You never age, RM.’ Veronique, who was on the portly side and nearer Brigid’s age than Marie-Hélène’s, puffed a little as she waited to hug her friend and colleague.

‘What are you doing, wearing the veil? I thought you’d given it up.’ Brigid eyed the younger nun, who wore a black skirt, white blouse, and a soft woollen short pink cardigan.

‘I wore it to honour you. It’s your party. You’ve never given it up, nor has Veronique and—’ Marie-Hélène stopped. ‘I can take it off if you like,’ she teased, whipping the veil off her head to show her highlighted blonde tresses.

‘You changed your colour,’ Brigid noted. ‘Très chic.’ The last time she’d seen Marie-Hélène she’d been sporting auburn locks.

‘Blondes have more fun,’ laughed her incorrigible colleague. ‘Actually, I’m going to stop colouring it soon. I’m going grey. I might as well embrace it gracefully!’

‘That will be the day you embrace anything gracefully,’ Brigid said fondly. ‘Who else is here? Let me freshen up and go down and greet them.’

‘Freshen up by all means, RM, dear, but under no circumstances are you to go downstairs if you don’t want Una to have a coronary,’ Veronique said firmly, kissing Brigid. ‘She’s scurrying around making sure everything’s perfect. She wants for you to make a grand entrance.’

‘Good Lord, she’s taking it all so seriously. She shouldn’t be putting herself to such trouble,’ Brigid tutted.