Peggy used her fingers to count. ‘Well, with Declan and Keeva and Tig, I make that eighteen altogether. It’ll be a bit of a squeeze, but we’ve done twice as many often enough. Then of course there’ll be all the others from the village who’ll come in to see Mary Kate and drink to her health.’

Nola noted the huge cauldron of stew perched over the dying embers at one end of the fire, and the two vats in which the potatoes were cooking. The new electric cooker hadn’t even been switched on.

Peggy, noticing, looked over her shoulder and said, ‘That fancy cooker is all right for a bit of toast, but you can’t beat the old range and the fire for a big dinner, can you? And it certainly can’t manage a pot of stew for twenty on it.’

Seamus came in behind Nola, rubbing his hands together.

‘Is Joe not with you?’ Peggy said, not wanting to ask after Pete in case she made it too obvious. But she caught the tut of the tongue and the sharp look Nola gave her from the corner of her eye.

‘No, he’s kept Pete with him and they are off to fetch Bridget and Porick in that fancy new car of his while Michael does the coast run for Mary Kate and the others, in the van full of potatoes and cabbages. Two modes of transport more different you could not imagine.’ Seamus laughed as he placed a wooden box filled with bread on the table.

A grin spread across Peggy’s face at the prospect of a second evening in the company of Pete Shevlin.

‘I’m off to Paddy’s to fetch some drinks.’ Smiling in anticipation of the first drink of the day, Seamus headed towards the door.

‘Seamus Malone!’ shouted Nola.

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned.

‘Rosie and Finn will be back from Mass in five minutes. You can go over to Paddy’s bar, but only to bring the drink back here. I’ve no doubt Paddy and Josie will come back with you. Tig and Keeva will bring themselves when the boys are in bed. Don’t you for one minute think you are staying over there. The cushion on the chair over there is still warm from the last time your fat backside was sat on it.’

Nola began unpacking loaves of floury, freshly baked bread from the box onto a shelf on the range to keep them warm, followed by three large fruit pies on enamel plates.

A look of disappointment crossed Seamus’s face as he hurried out of the door. He would have killed for a drink and would have liked nothing more than to stand and have one in Paddy’s bar, but he was well aware that his wife would kill him first if he disobeyed her.

Ten minutes later, Paddy and Seamus rolled a barrel of Murphy’s across the road, just as the congregation began filing through the gates after Mass. There appeared to be an unusual amount of excited chatter amongst the normally reflective villagers. The ghillie from Captain Carter’s estate was standing with a small crowd gathered around him.