‘I was the youngest of a large family. Bad boy but bright enough to escape being found out. Wrote a couple of novels and ended up being a writer.’

‘But you also went travelling, didn’t you? I do regret not doing anything like that before I settled down.’

He chuckled. ‘You’re only twenty-six. I don’t think you can describe yourself as “settled down”. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you to go travelling.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m too timid to go backpacking on my own. At least,’ she added as she thought more about what she’d said, ‘I have been up to now.’

‘You don’t have to go backpacking on your own. There’s lots of ways to see a bit of the world that doesn’t involved hefting huge weights about.’

She chuckled and sat up, eyeing the components of the picnic. ‘I suppose so. I’ve done my travelling via books so far, but as you say, there’s time to change.’

He leant up on one elbow and studied her. She sensed the warmth of his body next to hers and felt a glow of contentment. She was conversing with her all-time favourite writer, against the backdrop of a magnificent Irish landscape.

‘The best writer in the world can’t be a substitute for your own experience,’ he said.

‘No, not a substitute, but it can be something better, can’t it?’

‘How do you mean?’

She made a gesture towards the view. ‘Well, take this, for example. It’s brilliant to be here because it’s stunning, really lovely. But if you were describing it in a book, you could give it layers of meaning that a mere picture, or just looking at it, couldn’t.’

He made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. ‘Are you talking about me in particular or writers in general?’

She shrugged. ‘Either. Whichever you like.’

‘I think I’ll take the general option. The responsibility is too great otherwise.’

‘Do you feel your responsibility as a writer?’ This was something Laura had always wondered about.

‘A bit.’ He seemed not to want to carry on with the conversation. ‘Would you like to walk a bit further? We can leave the things here and then come back and have tea.’

‘Oh yes.’ She got to her feet, ‘Maybe I’ll take the opportunity to go travelling but keep it on a very small scale.’

He laughed. ‘Come on then.’

They walked to the top of the hill from where they could see a slightly different view. Still the sun shone and the sea sparkled. Because she was staring out to sea, trying to spot an island Dermot had said was sometimes visible, she stumbled. He caught her arm.

‘Are you OK? You didn’t twist your ankle did you?’