When Vinny was born with a mop of black curly hair, I was sure he was Daniel’s. I never told a soul obviously, but from the moment I laid eyes on him, Baby Blue was my special boy and he always would be.

Vinny’s hair straightened by the time he started school and as he grew up all three of my boys looked reasonably alike. Albie also had black hair and striking green eyes, and in all honesty, there was just as much chance, if not more, that Vinny was Albie’s son. But I didn’t want to believe that. Not really.

A tap on the door put an end to my reminiscing. ‘Half an hour suit you to go down to breakfast, Queenie?’ asked Patrick.

‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘See you downstairs.’

I glanced at myself in the small mirror. I had bags under my eyes. I must have dozed off to have dreamed of Mary. But up until that point, I had not slept a wink. I’d lie awake for hours thinking of Daniel O’Leary …

Queenie spent the next few hours with Patrick. He showed her his mum’s old house that he, Daniel and Seamus were raised in, the church his mum and dad got married in, and his old school. He pointed out many other milestones and Queenie loved seeing the places Mary had talked about.

They stopped at a pub, but yet again, Queenie wasn’t hungry. Patrick recommended the Guinness, so she had a couple of halves to calm her nerves. She knew she’d be seeing Daniel again soon.

‘Right, I’ll drop you at the cottage. Don’t let Daniel go out, Queenie. He shouldn’t have risked going out yesterday, but he was adamant he wanted to surprise you. I’m gonna pay a visit to a couple of blokes I know, see if we can get this crap with the McCarthys sorted out once and for all.’

‘Wouldn’t Daniel be safer back in London?’

‘They’ll only come to the club, and we don’t want no trouble there.’

Queenie said no more, just spent the rest of the journey looking out the window. It was very remote, wherever they were going. She hadn’t seen another car for over ten minutes, only fields and livestock. She felt sick at the thought of spending time alone with Daniel in his cottage, yet excited at the same time.

Patrick drove down a dirt track and right at the bottom was a pretty little cottage.

‘Wow! This is gorgeous. Who does it belong to?’

‘Me,’ smiled Patrick. ‘But apart from Daniel, nobody knows that. We call it our secret cottage. It used to belong to an old aunt of ours who was a bit of a hermit.’

Daniel opened the front door with a big grin on his face. ‘Top of the morning to you.’

‘It’s afternoon now, ya nutter,’ laughed Patrick.

‘Welcome to our secret cottage, Queenie.’

‘I don’t know how long I’ll be as I might have to pay the McCarthys another visit an’ all. I also need to catch up briefly with an old friend. But I won’t be too late. That OK with you, Queenie?’