‘Of course you will,’ she said, patting my shoulder as she answered her own question, smiling as Bod put his paws up against my chair and looked up at me with his little black button eyes. Reaching down, I lifted him onto my lap where he quickly made a little nest and hung his front paws over the edge of my leg, basking in the warmth of the large but cosy kitchen. It was easy to see this being the heart of the family home, presided over by the smiling, chatty Maria.

‘I see he’s got you wrapped around his little finger,’ she said, laughter in her gentle sing-song voice as she nodded at the dog. ‘Lorcan, reach me the teapot, would you, love? Diarmaid put it away for me the other day, bless him, and it’s in the wrong place and I can’t reach it up there.’

‘Tell him next time. He knows you can’t get up there on a chair with your vertigo.’ Her son shook his head. ‘All he has to do is ask where it goes.’

‘Oh, don’t be such a grump. He’s trying to be helpful,’ she replied, sending him the sort of look only a mother could conjure up. ‘Diarmaid’s my son-in-law,’ Maria said, keeping me in the loop.

‘I’m helpful!’

‘Aye, when you’re here and when you want to be.’

Lorcan shook his head. ‘At least I put the teapot in the right bloody place,’ he mumbled and I bent a little to fuss Bod’s fur, hoping the movement would hide the grin spreading across my face at the six-foot-five bulk of Lorcan getting told off by his far smaller mum. I had a feeling there was a lot more to Maria O’Malley than met the eye. It seemed to be a recurring theme in this family.

‘Don’t think I can’t see that,’ Lorcan said, leaning over my shoulder as he placed the cosy covered teapot in front of me on the table.

‘Then perhaps you should listen to your mother more.’

A peal of laughter rang out from where Maria was removing a tray of something that smelled delicious from the oven. ‘Oh, I like this one,’ she said, pointing at me with an oven glove in the shape of a giraffe.

‘You would,’ he returned, but I could see the smile in his eyes, even if it didn’t show on his lips.

‘So, now,’ his mum said, sitting opposite me as she buttered the warm scones. ‘You’ll like these, by the way. Scones, sort of, but with potato and cheese.’

‘And a million carbs,’ Lorcan added with more of a smile, earning him a sharp kick under the table.

‘You’re not watching your weight, are you, dear?’

‘No, not really. I just tend not to eat a lot of carb-rich food and your son enjoys winding me up about it when I do.’