"It's called a ‘triskele', Hugh" she said.

"Thank you: anyway, if you could see that ... tree-skay-lay ... from where you were sitting, you've got eyes like the proverbial  .....  eagle!" he said, with a grin.

Kate flushed.

"Eagle: well, Phil would have found a more down-to-earth expression!" she muttered.

"Even so, if you're sure it's something you sketched even before you came to Ireland, it's even more remarkable" Hugh continued. "I can tell you, whatever it's called, you'll find it's as close as I can recall exactly a detail you'll see carved into the lintel of the door."

Phil leaned across to study it closely. Thinking of how Kate's dreams had been one of the main reasons for them making time for the trip in the first place, he felt a frisson of anticipation. Could this be a sign that his decision to follow a whim, exploring the similarities between Kate's sketches and the Chapel on an island once owned by his ancestors might just bear fruit?

"I should be able to get some good close-up shots of that door and lintel: it's the main door you're talking about, isn't it Hugh?"

" 'Tis indeed."

"Thanks. The ground looked to be clear, I can set up a tripod overnight ....... is there any chance someone could row me out there to take a few shots this afternoon, while the light's still good ..... ?"

Sean was dispatched to find Jim, the stable-lad and proud owner of the nearest available rowboat. Phil disappeared into the caravan, to choose what he thought would be the best camera for the job in hand.

When Sean returned, practically dragging Jim with him, the courtyard was a hive of activity. However, when they reached the glade its essential peace and tranquillity was undisturbed.

The rowboat was moored in a reedbed off to one side of the glade:  Phil was a little surprised he hadn't noticed it earlier on, but on the other hand he hadn't actually been looking for it. Sean took a seat in the prow without waiting for an invitation.

As soon as they had crossed the short distance to the island Sean hopped out and helped Phil to secure the skiff from floating off, without making it too difficult to re-launch. He then took from Phil the various padded bags containing a selection of the camera paraphernalia deemed necessary for close-up photography. Phil melted to the silent puppy-dog-eyed plea in Sean's gaze when the equipment had been safely deposited on the shore, and after a swift glance in Hugh's direction agreed that Sean might accompany him on his "photo safari".

"Let me carry your case, so you've got two hands free."

It was on the tip of Phil's tongue to refuse this undoubtedly well-meant offer, but something stopped him. Sean was, after all, a sturdy lad: he was agile and anxious to please, and had already shown that he was both reliable and swift in running errands. Perhaps he ought to cut the boy some slack, he thought.

"Okay, Sean: I could certainly use an extra pair of hands - but careful hands!" he added.

"Careful it is, sir!" promised Sean, gravely.

For the next twenty minutes or so Sean followed Phil as obediently as an acolyte would a visiting Archbishop. As the daylight began to leak away, Phil passed Sean the camera he had used for the last set of close-ups he intended to take himself and began to assemble the first of several tripods for timed exposure shots through the night. After all, he mused, one never knew .....

Sean's eyes grew bigger and rounder as he looked on in disbelief.

"How many cameras d'yis need, Sir?"

Phil realised that to a young boy it must seem excessive. He had found in his day-to-day professional work that it was best to treat children and adults equally. In his opinion,

there was no mileage in patronising young people; therefore he treated Sean's question seriously

"Taking photographs is my job, Sean" he explained " ... and while I might not need all these, it's a sort of a habit for me to have them all handy, "just in case" so to speak: I'd prefer to have one camera around and not need it, rather than not have exactly what I need if something unexpected happens! Does that make sense to you?"

Sean nodded.

"I like taking pictures, too: is it a good job? Could I do it when I'm older, Sir?"

"Why not?" said Phil, without a trace of mockery or platitude. "I wasn't much older than you when I decided I wanted to be a photographer - but please, I'm not a "Sir"!

That's best kept for when you go back to school after the holidays!"       

"Sure, and I can't be calling you for your Christian name!" Sean protested, with horror. "You're not just an adult, you're also a guest: and you're an MacDairmada!"

To calm the boy's evident distress, Phil sat down on the ground before him and waited until he had Sean's full attention.

"Now, while there's just you and me, I want you to tell me a few things, young Sean!"

Placing one hand on Sean's shoulder he brought him round to sit alongside him on a convenient stone.

"From what Hugh O'Gara said last night, I've a good idea what an MacDairmada means: it's a traditional title for the .... head of the family, and he seems to think I've a claim to the title."

"It's more like.... Clan Chief, really" Sean interrupted "It's more than just ‘family' really, even if it's just a title these days!"

"Tell you what!" Phil said "Let's settle for another ‘honorary' title which I'd like you to use! Everyone's made Kate and me so welcome, you've made us feel like family. Why don't you call me Uncle Phil. That's got a nice, friendly ring to it, don't you think?"

Sean's eyes flickered briefly to a point over and beyond Phil's shoulder, and Phil sensed that Sean was looking towards Hugh O'Gara, visible on the shore but at the moment out of earshot.

" ........ And if you're thinking Hugh O'Gara's approval might be needed, I'll speak to him myself as soon as you paddle me back to the shore!"

The relief on Sean's face was evident: this was precisely what had been on his mind.

With a nod and a bound he was back on his feet and into the skiff, waiting for Phil to pass him the cameras and accessories which were not needed for the night shots.

Back at Michael Ashe's Inn, after Sean had been dispatched back to his family, Hugh listened carefully as Phil gave him a brief recap of the private conversation he'd had with his young assistant.

"He'll live high on that for quite some time with the other kids!" was Hugh's comment

" .... and once everyone else has heard the story -  I imagine it will be halfways round the village already! - you'll no doubt find you've not done your own reputation any harm, either! We don't change too quickly in these parts: we respect old habits, traditional ways of doing things. The idea of  an MacDairmada wanting to return to the village, even for a short time, taking an interest in the history of the village and the people who live here - and making a special effort to be approachable, even by the youngsters: it all counts for something, you know! Oh, yes, indeed ... "

Sure enough, as the pub gradually filled up, Phil was aware of people coming over to greet him, introduce themselves or offer further information which they thought might be of some relevance to his supposed researches into his family history. He felt a little uneasy with this, as it was to some extent a deception on his part, but once he started jotting things down he realised that this was a perfect opportunity to go as deep as he could with his family tree project. He had been working on it in fits and starts for a couple of years, but had never really had the time to organise himself properly.Kate had a certain amount of (slightly ring-rusty) shorthand skills, but the information came in from all sides and she was obliged to call a brief halt at one point while she escaped to the caravan for a Dictaphone and a box of cassettes. By the time Michael Ashe decided to call time, Phil estimated they had at least a fortnight's editing and cross-referencing ahead of them.

"Most of the stories seem to have a lot in common: the same details keep coming up again and again ..... Christ, I sound like a bloody cop looking for evidence!" he muttered as they sat over a final coffee before turning in. He stretched and yawned.

"What's that line from G & S .... "Corroborative detail, intended to give ......?" said Kate.

" ... to give artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative" Phil completed Koko's famous excuse for his prevarications from The Mikado, and grinned at the thought.

"I just hope there's a more solid foundation in fact with this tale, otherwise we're wasting our time!"

"You don't really think that though, do you Phil?"

"No, definitely not! There's far too much detail which different people have offered, totally independent of each other. This tale covers who knows how many generations, and it dovetails so neatly with what I can remember of what I read on the 'Net. There may well be some embellishments and adornments here and there which have been added through the years by the "oral tradition" of telling and retelling the story, but in essence it's family history rather than imaginative fiction. I believe it's based on solid historical fact - at least, the names and dates are checkable. They seem to be right from what I can remember - it's late, and quite honestly I'm too shattered to log on and run it past the website ............. "

"How shattered are you then, Phil?"