She stands quiet a bit. The rest of us do likewise. And there’s a small miracle. The screaming stops. The monster falls silent too.

Blackthorn hasn’t been expecting it. Nor has Geiléis, who’s gone white as milk. All around the circle folk look startled, almost afraid. Me, I’m holding my breath, wondering how long the silence will last. Not that I doubt Blackthorn. Just got a feeling, that’s all. My feeling is this isn’t going to be done with until Midsummer Eve.

Turns out I’m right. We’re following Blackthorn out of the circle when it starts up again, as mournful as ever. Geiléis puts her hand up to her face. Doesn’t want folk to see she’s crying. Blackthorn’s not crying. Only sad.

Geiléis pulls herself together. Thanks everyone for coming and thanks Blackthorn for the ritual. Senach and the others have carried food and drink up from the house. But folk don’t stay long. Quick bite to eat, then away off home, even though it’s a long ride or walk for most of them. If they’re disappointed, they’re good at not showing it. Maybe they’ve had so many disappointments they’ve forgotten how to hope. Know how that feels. So it’s over, and we go back home, and my belly starts to churn because tomorrow it’s back to St. Olcan’s for me.

• • •

It rains again. Not just one wet day, a whole run of them. The brothers find us a couple of big lengths of oiled cloth to get up over the rafters, keep things dry underneath. I do some repairs on the wall and make the double compost enclosure for the garden, jobs I can get done in the wet. Weather clears, but we’ve lost a lot of time. Starts to feel as if we mightn’t get the job finished by midsummer. I say so to Tadhg while we’re eating our midday meal, and Brother Fergal, who’s in the garden nearby, hears me. Doesn’t say anything. But that afternoon, later on, suddenly we’ve got six monks carrying bundled reeds over from the barn in relays, and one of Fergal’s garden helpers doing Tadhg’s job of carrying the bundles up the ladder, and Tadhg, so pleased with himself he’s pink in the face, helping me put on the next layer and peg the bundles in place. At the end of the day there’s only one end to finish before I do the ridging and make the creatures for the top. Which is just as well, because there are only five days left until Midsummer Eve. Only five, and still nothing from Flannan.

We’re done for the day. I climb down and say thank you to the helpers. Hard to find the words. Feels wrong, them helping me. Feels like I should tell them who I am and where I came from. The truth. Then they’d throw me out and the roof wouldn’t get finished after all.

“Good job,” I say. “Don’t suppose we could have help again tomorrow? One morning’s work, then I can finish up on my own.” A bit awkward, asking. The monks look worn-out. But pleased with the day’s work too.