‘Go’way, they don’t. Well, haven’t they done well,’ Mrs McGinty said.

Mrs O’Keefe dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, hiding her laughter. She had a much easier time of it as she was sitting next to Mrs Doyle herself, and after an hour there wasn’t a thing she didn’t know about Tarabeg and everyone who lived or had lived there, going back fifty years or more. She felt almost sorry when Mary Kate told them it was time to leave.

‘We can’t be late for Rosie,’ said Mary Kate.

‘Indeed not,’ said Mrs O’Keefe, who was a paragon of good manners.

‘And then we will see you up at the long hall, ladies, in a few days’ time, will we?’ asked Mrs Doyle.

‘It would seem so,’ said Mrs O’Keefe. ‘It would be rude not to go. I’m not much good at the Irish dancing though.’

‘Oh, don’t you be worrying about that,’ said Mrs McGinty. ‘I can show you a dance or two, if me hip doesn’t give in while I’m at it.’

One by one the voices stopped chattering as the women turned to see who had sent the bell jangling above the door.

‘Hello,’ the young woman said.

‘Hello,’ they replied as one.

‘Would you be another visitor as well?’ said Mrs Doyle. ‘We’ll be needing that hotel of Joe’s sooner than he thinks. Are you looking for someone, dear?’

‘I am. I’m looking for Mary Kate Marcus. I’m Dana, Dana Brogan, from Belmullet.’

No sooner had she blurted it out than Dana could have kicked herself for putting her foot in it and getting it wrong all over again. Mary Kate hadn’t actually been married to that nice Dr Marcus, had she, so she wouldn’t be Mary Kate Marcus, she’d still be plain old Mary Kate Malone. But it was too late now.

‘Ah, the Brogan girl. You’re the nurse, aren’t you?’ said Mrs Doyle. ‘There’s no one here by that name – Marcus is not a name from around these parts.’

Before Dana had time to correct herself, Mary Kate walked in from the back of the shop. The first person she saw was Dana. A look of delight crossed her face, to be quickly replaced by one of horror. ‘No one knows,’ she hissed into Dana’s ear as she pulled her to one side.

‘I’m afraid some of them do,’ said Dana, ‘and it’s all my fault.’

*

Hunger had almost driven him out of the cave, and the pain in his leg, out of his mind. He had shuffled to the edge of the cave to catch the daylight and see if there were any boats leaving or returning, perhaps even the trawler heading out from Blacksod Bay into the deeper waters of the Atlantic. He had no idea of the time, felt disoriented and weak. He was close to the edge of despair.

When he heard footsteps sliding down the shingle towards him, however, he hid his relief well. It had to be Jay. No one else would have reason to descend the cliff at that point.