Sister Mary Magdalene, for her part, felt the different tensions in the house but was more concerned for Eileen, who looked dreadful. The doctor visited every day, she knew, and was the best money could buy, and yet Eileen looked like a dead person already. Her face was covered by thin stretched skin, and her bones protruded through it. Her stomach was huge, a great lump that made her arms and legs look painfully thin in comparison. Even her hair looked dead, no lustre or sheen on it. Her blue eyes were flat, the colour of slate. They moved in her head slowly, as if the action was painful. The nun started praying within minutes of walking into Eileen’s bedroom.

Later, as she sat down to eat with Kerry, Bernadette and Briony, she said: ‘This is a lovely piece of beef. I like good food. Though I suppose I shouldn’t, being with the Sisters of Mercy!’

Briony smiled at her. She had a wonderfully soft voice, an Irish lilt that held authority and carried without her having to raise it.

‘How do you find Eileen, Sister Mary Magdalene?’

The young nun flapped her hand at Briony.

‘Sister Mary will be fine, or just plain old Mary. I was lucky, my name was already Mary. We’ve a nun at Sea View called Sister John the Baptist! Now that’s a mouthful, and she insists on it all as well. Behind her back, I call her JB.’

Bernadette and Kerry laughed, scandalised.

Briony smiled.

‘You haven’t answered my question, Mary?’ It felt strange to address a nun thus and Briony wasn’t at all sure she liked doing it.

‘Shall I tell you the truth? I think she’s dying.’

Hearing the words so plain, so true, threw Briony. She dropped her fork with a loud clatter on to the parquet flooring of her dining room.

‘Well, you did ask. I’ve never seen a person so ill-looking in all my life. God love her, she’s had more than a body can cope with.’

Bernadette put down her cutlery. Kerry just sat staring at the tiny Irish nun. She was sure the sister was about to get a slap across her wimple from Briony for daring to say such a thing.

Briony stared as well. She held back her natural urge to give this chit a piece of her mind because she knew the girl was merely stating a fact, a fact Briony also knew to be true. Instead she said, ‘I’ve thought that myself. Tell me, Mary, what can we do? What can we do to make her better?’