Marc had called constantly, as well as trying to Messenger her, before she left, but she’d ignored his calls and texted:

Am up to my eyes packing, sweetie, I’ll get in touch from Ireland.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her crying. That would ruin her plans for keeping him in the dark about her reasons for leaving.

Marie-Claire squared her shoulders and walked out onto the jetway feeling she was in some sort of a dream.

It was the first time she’d ever returned home with no one to greet her, and she felt a dart of loneliness when the opaque green doors parted and she walked out onto the Arrivals concourse. It was still pitch-black outside. She was glad she’d be getting into bed in the dark.

‘Marie-Claire, Marie-Claire!’ She heard her name being called and turned her head in the direction of the shout to find Ella waving frantically, heading in her direction. Her heart lifted. Loneliness fled. Ella, her best friend. Always in her life, steadfast and dependable as only best friends are.

‘What are you doing here?’ Marie-Claire held out her one free arm and was enveloped in a hug that made everything bearable.

‘Did you think I’d let you come home at this hour of the morning after what you’ve been through and not be here to meet you?’ Ella demanded, stepping back to look at her. ‘Well, you might be going through a trauma, MC, but you look A-MAZ-ING!’ she grinned. ‘Love that cape. And your hair is so elegant, swept up. How come mine always looks like a bird’s nest after I fly? And even when I don’t fly,’ Ella laughed, sweeping her fingers through her unruly chestnut curls.

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Marie-Claire exclaimed. She and Ella had met on their secondary school basketball court. Ella, a sixth year and captain of the school team, had been impressed with Marie-Claire’s bank shots and blocking actions. Despite the five-year age gap, a friendship was born that had continued when they had both ended up sharing a flat in Dublin, where they had forged careers for themselves, Marie-Claire in sound production, Ella in the employment sector, where she’d eventually set up her own employment agency. As close as sisters, they shared each other’s joys and sorrows. There was no one else in the world that Marie-Claire would have wanted to find waiting for her on her arrival back to Ireland.

‘You know you can come home with me, but to be honest, I think you’d be far better off going to the hotel you booked,’ Ella said as she took control of the trolley heading towards the exit. ‘The girls held a sleepover last night and you wouldn’t get a wink of sleep with them prancing around. I’m tempted to book in myself,’ she grimaced.