Brigid’s heart beat a fast tattoo against her chest when the grounds of the convent came into sight. She took in the high and forbidding grey stone wall, the black iron gates with their sharp pointed tips leading onto a gravelled drive and immaculately kept gardens. Once they drove inside them, the sound of the city traffic became muted and a silence, broken only by birdsong, enveloped them.

‘Last chance to run, Brigid.’ Her father smiled over at her and for one wild moment, Brigid was tempted. But where would she run to? Back to Ardcloch and a life too mediocre to endure? She’d been sent off to Dublin with the good wishes of the parish ringing in her ears. Her pride would not let her turn back.

‘This is what I want, Daddy,’ she said firmly.

‘Grand,’ he said. ‘Let’s go so.’ He got out of the car, lifted her brand-new brown case out of the boot and they walked in silence up the steps to ring the bell beside the big wooden doors.

A nun in a black habit with a white veil let them in. ‘Hello, and welcome to the house. I will bring you to the visitors’ parlour, where you will wait until I come to collect you to bring you to the Mistress of Novices,’ she said quietly, before leading them to a small parlour along the hall. The lay nuns wore white veils, Brigid learned. She would be wearing a black one when her novitiate was over.

Brigid and Tom sat side by side on two hard antique chairs, hardly able to speak. Brigid was her father’s pet. She knew that, and it broke her heart that she would soon be saying goodbye to him, especially when there was no knowing how long it would be before she’d see him again.

‘Write to us when you can,’ he said eventually, to break the silence.

‘I will, Daddy. I’ll tell you everything that’s happening, I promise,’ Brigid assured him, hoping she wouldn’t break down and upset him.

A light knock on the door made them start, and once again the lay nun came gliding in. Did you learn to walk like that in the convent? Brigid wondered distractedly, dreading the moment of farewell. ‘It’s time to say your goodbyes now,’ the nun advised, and her grey eyes were sympathetic.

‘Goodbye, Brigid, we’re very proud of you,’ Tom said, getting awkwardly to his feet. He put his arms around her and she was in absolute turmoil when she hugged her father one last time and smelled his familiar, reassuring scent of pipe smoke and tweed.