Sister Michael: [answers phone] You may speak. Oh, no. O-Of course. Leave it to me. [hangs up]
Clare: Is everything OK, Sister?
Sister Michael: My aunt just died.
Clare: Oh, no.
James: We're so sorry, Sister.
Sister Michael: Don't be, girls. She had been ill for a very long time, and also she was an absolute arsehole.
Erin: Well, if there's anything we can do.
Clare: Aye.
Sister Michael: The hospice want to release the body, but the house is a tip. The woman was a desperate hoarder. I doubt we'd fit the coffin in. Once you pass the border, it's pretty straightforward, but if you hit Gortahork, you've gone too far. I need it done by tomorrow.
Erin: Are you asking us to go to Donegal and clean your dead aunt's house?
Sister Michael: I'd do it myself, but... I don't want to.

Sister Michael: What in the name of the risen Jesus is happening here, exactly?
Erin: Sister Michael, thank God. I don't know how to explain this, but...
Sister Michael: I suggest you try.
Erin: It's Robert.
Sister Michael: Who?
Erin: Your aunt Annie's husband, Robert.
Orla: He's come back from the dead, Sister.
Sister Michael: Right. My aunt's name is Maura. She never married. And this isn't her house. I only stopped here because I saw the van on the side of the road.
Clare: This... isn't her house?
Declan: Are you all high?!
Sister Michael: There's a mile to go before you hit Maura's house. The house I sent you to tidy up. The house that is still an absolute state. The house I need to have a wake in this afternoon.
James: Oh, dear.
Sister Michael: Oh, dear, indeed.
Michelle: So whose house is this, then?
Declan: Mine! Me and the wife are in the middle of moving in and... Would you just get off me, please?!

Sister Michael: Go away. [Father Peter enters] Oh... You're taking the piss, now.
Father Peter: Sister, you missed the first communion.
Sister Michael: I'm devastated.
Father Peter: Everything all right?
Sister Michael: The Bishop rang.
Father Peter: I see...
Sister Michael: I decided to take your advice. No point fighting it.
Father Peter: Right.
Sister Michael: Then I had a whiskey and a word with myself. I rang him back.
Father Peter: You rang him back?
Sister Michael: Told him... I make a difference here. The girls know that. The parents know that. I'm not ready to leave. Try and force me to and there'll be an awful fuss, I said. I'll make sure of it, I said.
Father Peter: And what did he say?
Sister Michael: Not much. [pours a drink for Father Peter] He didn't say much. [both chuckle]
Father Peter: Slainte.