Cat took a cigarette packet out her pocket and removed one. ‘On the night Sarah died, I felt like the world had ended, and if it hadn’t been for Rosie, I don’t know what would have happened to us. It’s all thanks to Rosie that I didn’t kill myself because I felt like doing that often enough. And you know…’ He struck a match and raised it to the cigarette that was perched between Cat’s lips and held between her fingers. As the flame reached the end of the cigarette, their eyes met and for a brief moment his voice faltered. He pulled his eyes away, shook the match, threw it to the ground and then looked back up to the stars. ‘I think for every star there is up there for someone who’s been taken, there’s also an angel down here, on earth. My angel is Rosie, and you, Cat, you’re a good woman, you will meet your angel soon.’

Rosie had moved from the kitchen to the inside of the shop to get a packet of Woodbines off the shelf for Seamus. As she turned to go back into the house, she noticed the two shadows on the other side of the shop window. She hadn’t seen either Cat or Michael leave the party; she’d been too busy refilling drinks and clearing away plates of food. For the past half hour, she and Peggy had been washing dishes and her hands felt red raw.

In the morning, while everyone else slept off the spoils of the night, she would be up and on her way to the school. There’d be no child missing out on their studies because the teacher had a hangover. Rosie wouldn’t mind or care that her limbs ached with exhaustion and her eyes stung with tiredness. What had mattered was putting on a welcome for Mary Kate and an appearance for Michael. Even if a rumour escaped from Belmullet and reached Tarabeg, no one would believe it. Mary Kate was not in hiding, she had nothing to be ashamed of. She and her family were celebrating her return home and that was the most important task in hand.

She moved closer to the window, heard the whispered voices, saw the flare of the match and the reflection of Cat’s face. Her heart pounded in her chest with the fear of what she would see. Then came Michael’s words: ‘My angel is Rosie.’ He had never said that to her, but it didn’t matter. It was what he thought, and that was all she needed to know. It had all been worth it; she was his angel.

Chapter 15

Bee awoke to darkness and nudged Captain Bob in the side. ‘What time is it?’ she asked. He was already awake, lying on his back, his arms folded, fingers intertwined and tapping out a beat on his chest. She could tell he’d been lying there for some time, keeping still, trying not to move or disturb her. It was the way with him: always thoughtful, always looking to make her life easier.