Eventually Inteachán found a tiny space for the two of them, wedged between a family and a handful of tourists.
Beside her Mac stood stooped and weary.
‘This is too much,’ he repeated. ‘Simply too much.’
‘Don’t despair,’ whispered Inteachán. ‘We must go on, Mac. We must.’
‘We must,’ he said. ‘We surely must and will.’
‘But it can only get worse from here.’