Pot of jam second

"We learned that Kit McMahon thought the Pope came to her mother and father's wedding." Clio said. Sister Madeline never corrected anyone or told them that they were being harsh or cruel, but often people seemed to realise it themselves. Clio felt she had said the wrong thing.

"Of course, it is a mistake anyone could make." she said grudingly.

"Maybe one day the Pope will come to Ireland." Sister Madeline said.

They assured her this could never happen. It was all to do with a treaty. The Pope had to promise to stay inside the Vatican and not to go out conquering Italy like popes used to do years ago. Sister Madeline listened with every sign of believing them.

They told Sister Madeline news about Lough Glass, about old Mr Sullivan up at the garage coming out in the middle of the night in his pyjamas chasing angels. He said he had to catch as many as he could before the dawn, and he kept knocking on people's doors asking were there any angels hiding inside.

Sister Madeline was interested in that. She wondered what he could have dreamed that was so convincing. "He's as mad as a hatter." Clio explained.

"Well, we are all a bit mad, I expected. It's that stops us being too much alike, you know, like peas in a pod.'

They helped her wash and tidy away the remains of tea. As Kit opened the cupboard she saw another pot of jam exactly the same as the one she had brought. Perhaps her mother had been here today. If so, Sister Madeline had not told them, any more than she told anyone about the visits from Clio and Kit.

"You have some jam already." Kit said.

Sister Madeline just smiled.

Tea in the McMahon household had been at a quarter past six for as long as Kit could remember. Dad closed the pharmacy at six, but never on the dot. There was always someone who had come for a cough bottle, or a farmer in for marking fluids for cattle or sheep.