Joe didn’t ask who that was as he surreptitiously raised his hand to Mr Keene. The solicitor was in the front car, sitting alongside a young woman who at least had the good grace to clutch at a tightly wound handkerchief and dab at her dry eyes. Mr Keene acknowledged Joe with a sombre nod of the head, a silent confirmation that the two men would be meeting later at a hotel in Galway and that present at the discussion would be one Lady Georgina Carter, the niece and direct beneficiary of Captain Carter’s will.

‘They say up at the manor that in the last five years not one member of the family came to visit him when he was here. Who are they all?’ said Nola.

‘He was in his bed more of the time than he was out of it,’ said Seamus. ‘I don’t suppose he was up to visitors. Loved the fishing back in the day, he did. They say he never got over the death of his wife. Didn’t stop the ghillie though. The bastard never let up, not for a minute. We had the worst summer poaching ever – he became so lazy, he barely moved along the river and was right in our eye every night.’

‘He has no respect for tradition, that man,’ said Michael. ‘He will not have it that the Malones have always poached on the Taramore because it runs through our land.’

Joe looked thoughtful as he listened to the chatter and watched the mourners pass. They looked more bored than sad and he guessed they wouldn’t be staying long.

Paddy, Josie, Keeva and Tig had crossed the road to join them just as Rosie and Michael had stepped out of the shop. They all walked over to Declan, who was standing with his hat in his hands. Recalcitrant children had been banished indoors, to hide inside darkened rooms whose curtains had been drawn as a mark of respect.

‘Who will inherit?’ asked Joe of Seamus and Michael, even though he knew he’d find out all he wanted later.

‘He had a son,’ said Seamus. ‘The little fella died not long after the mother. ’Tis my guess the house will be knocked down and the estate land sold now. No Carter will want to live here any more. And to think, the parties they used to have there and the money they used to spend in the shop when it first opened – do you remember that, Michael?’

Seamus leant forward and looked down the row to Michael, who, like all the men, had reluctantly removed his cap as the procession rolled past.

‘I do. And the licences he sold to the Germans for the fishing. If it hadn’t been for that, we would have struggled, having to depend on the village alone.’

‘How big is the estate?’ asked Joe again.

‘Feck, enormous,’ said Paddy. ‘Why, are you interested in buying it?’ He laughed. He was joking.

Joe didn’t respond. If he’d replied with the truth, Paddy wouldn’t have been laughing.