Coming down here to the Four Winds had been a big mistake. It had stirred up memories and emotions she thought she’d buried deep. If only she had her car she could drive back to the hotel, her glass of wine notwithstanding. But she was trapped here until the party was over whether she liked it or not.

Imelda took several deep breaths and retouched her lipstick before opening the door. ‘Howya, Imelda!’ Maura, Una’s younger sister, hurried past with a tray of condiments. ‘Isn’t it a splendid party? It all worked out perfectly,’ she remarked gaily over her shoulder.

‘Splendid,’ Imelda echoed drily, promising herself one more glass of wine to get through the evening. She wasn’t a big drinker, but sometimes, she acknowledged, a woman needed help to endure an ordeal.

*

Brigid, seated in an armchair by the fire, listened to the laudatory words of her brother, John and almost wept. She’d just finished Skyping with her brother Sean in Perth and his words of congratulation had touched her deeply. She’d never felt so loved in her entire life, never felt so cherished. To have her life’s work affirmed so generously by everyone at the party was very touching. And, for the first time, she felt able to acknowledge that, yes, she had done good work during her time on the Missions and hopefully changed people’s lives for the better. She could look her God in the eye on Judgement Day and say she’d at least done that.

‘ . . . and so my dear sister, Philly,’ John smiled at his wife, ‘and I want to gift you this, with all our love.’ He handed her a small green book, and she saw that it was a Post Office book, with her name on it. ‘We deliberately waited until you were retired, because we knew otherwise you would probably give it to the Order. It’s our wish’ – he glanced at the Mother General – ‘that you use what’s in this account to travel, spend time with us in Ardcloch or do with it whatsoever you wish. Don’t you agree, Mother General?’ He turned to the nun who was standing beside him.

‘Mais oui! Of course,’ she agreed. ‘Reverend Mother Brigid is now retired. The rules on personal wealth no longer apply.’

‘Excellent,’ John laughed. ‘Because you’re not getting it.’

‘John,’ murmured Brigid reprovingly, opening the book. Her jaw dropped when she saw the amount. Thirty thousand euros! ‘John, Philly, I can’t take this—’