Packing for a six-week stay which took you from late summer to autumn was a tall order at the best of times, especially when someone was going somewhere so far out of their comfort zone. Mina’s only recommendation had been trainers. ‘There’s a lot of standing in a kitchen. You’ll be on your feet all day,’ she’d said.

Hannah had tried to pack for every eventuality but going on a sort of date had not been in her original inventory. Thankfully she’d included a dress or two and a couple of nice tops and her perennially perfect, smart black trousers which had seen her through many a meeting at work. They’d cost a small fortune but, in hindsight, were worth every last penny.

After the soaking in the rain, her curls were wilder than ever, but today she decided she rather liked them; they were a differentiating feature – her only differentiating feature, it was fair to say. She tousled them with her fingers and gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror. ‘You’ll do,’ she said out loud. ‘It’s just dinner.’ But she couldn’t help the sinuous little thought that slid into her brain. What happens in Dublin, stays in Dublin.

‘Hannah Campbell!’ She rolled her eyes at herself and shook her head before grabbing her coat and bag and crossing to the door of the hotel room.

Downstairs, she found Conor waiting for her and at the sight of him still wearing his suit, she was glad that she’d chosen the fancier chiffon and lace top and dressed it up with a fine silver chain and large hooped earrings.

‘Perfect timing.’ Outside, the sun had come out and had begun to dry the rain, leaving dappled patches of stone as the only clue of the day’s earlier torrential downpour. ‘Shall we?’ He offered his arm with a charming, slightly tongue-in-cheek smile.

‘How gallant,’ she teased, her heart doing another one of those funny bunny hops, as she slid a hand into the crook of his arm.

‘Always.’

They walked out into the warm, slightly humid evening, the air redolent of the earlier rain. Now Hannah looked around her with interest; earlier she’d had her head down, concentrating on not slipping on the wet cobbles.

‘So this is the famous Temple Bar. It’s lovely.’

‘It is. Popular tourist hot spot. Lots of restaurants, bars and boutiques.’ Despite the reference to tourists, there was a fondness in his voice. ‘I love this pub here, The Temple Bar,’ He pulled a comical face. ‘When I was a student we had some big nights here. Not sure I could keep up with myself any more. But it’s a great place for whiskey. Over 450 behind the bar. I’ve not worked my way through them all,’ he laughed, ‘although not for the want of trying.’

‘Really? 450! I’m not sure I’d know where to begin.’