‘Oh, darlin’. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Lorcan, why didn’t you tell me instead of letting me go and put my foot in my mouth?’ she said, reaching out to take hold of my hand, which was resting on the table in front of me.

‘No, really, it’s fine. It was a long time ago.’

‘Still, I’m sorry, love. Men! They don’t tell you anything, do they?’

‘If I’d known, Ma, I’d have told you.’ His voice now was low and steady, and when I risked a glance his jawline was tense. He met my eyes, his own shuttered now, the warmth of earlier gone. A knot formed in my stomach, tightening as he looked away.

‘You mustn’t blame Lorcan. He didn’t know. I don’t really talk about it with anyone. As I said, it was a long time ago.’

Maria gave my hand another pat, a soft, understanding smile on her gentle face, her skin pale and unblemished, an almost youthful bloom on her cheeks. The easy, relaxed atmosphere of a few moments ago had shifted and I desperately wanted to get it back. I wanted the easy, relaxed Lorcan back too but I wasn’t about to beg forgiveness for not sharing something personal when, judging by the arctic conditions that had blown in when Siobhan had entered the pub, there was a full-size skeleton lounging about in his own closet.

‘So, have you had enough to eat?’

‘More than enough, thank you. We ate lunch with Calum at the castle and your scones were delicious.’

‘Good. Now, as you haven’t seen much of the area, and there’s still some light out there, Lorcan can take you out and show you around a bit. Give you a break from work before you dive back into it tomorrow, I’m sure. Bod can stay here and keep me company in the meantime.’

‘Maddie might not want to see the sights,’ Lorcan said from behind a local newspaper. I had the feeling it was more that he didn’t want to, but Maria was right, it did seem a shame to miss out on a chance of exploring a little more.

‘I would, actually, but it’s fine, Maria. I have a hire car so can take myself. I’m sure Lorcan has plenty to do anyway.’

‘Obviously,’ she replied, the words spread with a thick layer of sarcasm.

Her son appeared from behind the paper and she met his eyes, not in the least intimidated, and clearly not expecting an argument either.

‘Fine.’ He glanced down at my feet. ‘But you’ll need better shoes than those.’ I declined to point out that said shoes were bloody gorgeous and had cost me six hundred quid some years earlier, so clearly he and I had different views of what qualified as ‘better’ when it came to shoes. His mum followed his eyeline.