Tig slipped his foot back inside his open leather boot. Unable to hide his curiosity, he got straight to the point. ‘You looked like a man on a mission there, Father. Did ye have a busy day?’

Father Jerry licked his lips as he set the pot back on the bar. ‘Aye, well, Mass this morning was full, not that you would know, Tig. And I have news for Michael Malone – where is he today?’

‘Ah, that’s an easy one to answer, Father.’ Tig grabbed his stick and hauled himself onto his feet, more than used to reprimands for his slack attendance at Mass. ‘He’s in Galway fetching pig feed, but he always calls in on his way past and he should be here any minute now, I would be saying. Oh, and here’s his daddy in through the door before him.’ Tig grinned as the door opened and Seamus walked into the bar, followed by Pete and Joe.

‘Joe Malone, have you called into the shop and made Peggy’s day? She’ll be crying into her tea if you don’t. Look, would you, I can see her nose pressed against the shop window looking for you now.’ Tig slapped his thigh and roared with laughter as he pointed through the bar window to Michael Malone’s shop.

Keeva heard him as she came back in from the kitchen. ‘Tig, why don’t you shut your big mouth,’ she said as she walked past, scowling at her husband.

Only she noticed the shadow that passed across Pete Shevlin’s face as he hung his scarf on the coat stand. The other men erupted into laughter at the long-standing joke of the flame that burnt in Peggy’s heart for Tarabeg’s handsome American, Joe Malone.

Joe’s American accent had not dimmed in the slightest, despite him having lived in the village for almost two years. His regular visits back to New York made sure of that. ‘It’s not my style to lead anyone on, Tig. Especially not a lovely lady like Peggy,’ he said, the only man in the bar who ever removed his hat.

Pete’s heart swelled. Despite hating the way Peggy failed to conceal her ardour for all things American, including Joe, he could hold no lasting grudge against the man himself, who had never set a foot wrong with Peggy.

‘Will ye be up at the dance in the long hall on the full moon, Joe? We’ll sell more tickets if I can get the word out that ye are,’ asked Tig.

‘Why, will you be going?’ asked Seamus, laughing. ‘Does Keeva know?’

Tig poked Seamus in the side with his stick. ‘We will be. Keeva is looking forward to a dance. We’ll be providing the refreshments – lemonade and Guinness – and Mammy and Keeva are selling the tickets over the butcher’s counter. Legs Duffy and his band will be playing. Michael Malone will take the barrel up there in the afternoon to settle and I’ll be up after him to lay out the tables and bring the pots and glasses. Rosie and Nola are making the sandwiches. It will be the best dance yet. Are you coming, Pete? Twill be a grand night.’