‘I’m going to make a point of it now that Jack is away on business,’ I say to her, trying my best to echo her cheery disposition. It obviously doesn’t cut the mustard with Mary.

‘You look sad, girleen,’ she says to me, using the old Irish endearment that reminds me of my grandmother’s generation. Mary is nowhere near that age, but her sentiments are so old-school and gentle that she never fails to give me comfort. ‘Is there something bothering you? It’s not good to bottle it up, but tell me to mind my own business at the same time if I’m prying. You just don’t look yourself at all.’

Mary is in her early sixties, I’d guess, and though her views are often simple and straightforward, she runs a gallery that people travel to from miles and miles away, so I’ve learned to take her humble words to heart when she says something that she believes in.

‘I’m grand,’ I reply to her, using another familiar Irish term that can mean one thing or another depending on how you say it. My deep sigh, in this instance, gives my game away.

‘You know the door is always open here if you ever need a chat,’ she tells me, seeing right through to the depths of my pain. ‘We love having the two of you here in Ardara, but I know it can’t be easy settling somewhere so far from home. You’ll mind yourself, now, won’t you, Charlotte.’

This time I do smile sincerely in response.

‘I will, Mary,’ I tell her, ‘and I’ll get painting very soon too.’

Mind yourself, meaning ‘take care’, is one of my favourite everyday Irish sayings and hearing it reminds me once again of how much I love living here, and how much I love to bump into people like Peter and Mary. Yes, I know I’m an independent, educated, fully grown woman who is more than capable of looking after myself while my husband is away on a brief work trip, but I do think it’s nice that the people around us care enough to look out for each other. I’ve never experienced community spirit like it and probably won’t ever find it anywhere else.

I walk further into the village, not knowing where I’m going but only that I need to keep moving and keep my mind busy. ‘We are hiring’ says a sign outside the grocery shop, which makes me think of Matthew and how he was so happy that day in Sullivan’s corner shop back in Loughisland in his little apron and with his regular customers popping in and out, enjoying his easy come, easy go arrangement with Angela in the bar.