His eyes were bright with excitement. As he downed his drink, he determined that as the lawyer left the bar, he would catch his arm and ask him who was dealing with the will. For the first time since he’d inherited his great-grandfather’s money, he felt its worth and understood why he had remained in Tarabeg for so long. It was fate. His moment had come. He had more money than even he knew, because the pot was added to every week with the profits from the law firm in New York.

As the solicitor finished his whiskey and the bacon and eggs Josie had brought out to him, for which she’d accepted no money in return, Joe hovered by the door and waited for his chance. First, though, they were all distracted by Declan.

‘You made it,’ said Michael as Declan entered the bar. They all felt sorry for him, for they all knew he would never be able to marry. There wasn’t a woman on earth who would saddle herself with the care of his mother. The house could be made of gold and even Peggy wouldn’t step over the threshold.

‘Mammy’s sleeping,’ said Declan. ‘I thought I’d just pop down for a quick one, before I go back to make her tea.’

Michael put his arm around his shoulders and guided him towards the bar. ‘There is a place waiting for you in heaven, Declan. You will get your reward – won’t he, Father?’

Father Jerry turned to Declan, his eyes full of sympathy. Declan’s path was not one he ran down. ‘You will that, Declan,’ he said. ‘How is yer mammy this afternoon, is she well?’

As the chatter moved from the demise of Captain Carter to the trials of Declan’s mammy, no one noticed Joe standing outside the bar, deep in conversation with Mr Keene, the solicitor from Galway, nor the look of mutual pleasure on the faces of both men as they shook hands.

*

Bee and Rosie had more important things to talk about than the death of the richest man in Mayo. Cat’s letter to Bee had arrived and rather than tell Rosie what was in it, or read it to her, Bee had given it directly to Rosie to read herself.

She is beside herself with grief, Bee. She loved him so much and, God knows, she didn’t half go through it to be with him. I’m afraid she’s coming back to you with her heart broken in two.

We’re not happy about her travelling on her own, and the grief just makes it worse. She’s that innocent, you could write ‘mug’ on her forehead and it wouldn’t make it any clearer. She’s one of those people, your Mary Kate, who would tip up her purse and give a beggar her last penny. And God love her, she is trying so hard to be brave.

Mrs O’Keefe is packing up her food for the journey and has sorted the tickets. I swear to God, if it wasn’t for the kids, I’d bring her back to you meself, but me and Mrs O’Keefe have said we will be over to see her really soon, if you will have us.