Both women turned at the sound of a commotion out in the shop. ‘God in heaven, what’s going on now?’ said Bridget.

Bee smiled as she saw Captain Bob walking into the room. But then her mouth fell open in astonishment. Behind him stood Cat, their old neighbour from Liverpool. What was she doing there? Bee almost pinched herself, seeing her old friend from Waterloo Street standing right there, in the Malones’ kitchen in Tarabeg. She’d had a letter from her about Mary Kate only a few days ago, but there’d been no mention of a visit. What was going on? And who was the older lady with her – white-haired, smartly dressed, with the gentle smile?

Remembering her manners and finally closing her mouth, Bee rose to greet them.

All the other women in the room had fallen silent at the sight of the strangers.

‘Hello, everyone,’ said Cat. ‘I’m Cat and this is—’

Before she could continue, there was the sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs and Mary Kate burst back into the room. To the amazement of everyone, she shouted, ‘Mrs O’Keefe! Cat!’ and ran across the room and threw herself into Mrs O’Keefe’s arms.

‘Are they the robbers?’ Nola whispered to Rosie, extracting the rolling pin from Rosie’s hand.

‘No, they’re not,’ said Rosie, wrestling it back.

‘They’re Mary Kate’s very good friends from Liverpool,’ said Captain Bob from behind. ‘They wanted to surprise her with a visit.’

‘They’ve done that all right,’ said Nola. ‘Peggy, two more glasses from the press, please. Ladies from Liverpool, you are very welcome, ’tis a drink you need.’

‘Aye, it is. I have them here.’ They all turned to see a hatless and flushed Teresa standing with two glasses in her hand. ‘Can I have another one too?’ she asked.

‘God in heaven, what a night this is,’ said Nola. ‘Get Teresa a chair someone, quick,’ she added as she refilled her glass.

*

Cat had found their arrival in Tarabeg bewildering: so many questions, meeting Rosie, Mary Kate being so distracted, all the chatter about the break-in. The men had come back across to the house as soon as they’d heard there were visitors. There were so many people, all of them talking to her as though they’d known her all of their lives, and there was Rosie too, Michael’s wife, the wife of the man she had slept with, being as kind as though she was her own sister.

Cat hadn’t seen the man jumping over the church wall, but Mrs O’Keefe had, which instantly made her the centre of attention. Cat needed fresh air and a cigarette, so she took herself out onto the cinder path at the front of the shop. She had a ciggie lit in one hand and was nursing a mug of Guinness in the other, her first ever. ‘No better barrel to get your first Guinness from than here in Tarabeg,’ Paddy had said as he’d served her in the kitchen. As she drew on her cigarette, she gazed up at the sky, her eye caught by the brightness and closeness of the stars.