‘I’m not seeing him until 1pm. He’s a law unto himself. Complete madman. How many other lawyers do you know who conduct meetings on Sundays? So before then, I thought we could have a leisurely breakfast and a walk around Temple Bar. There’s a ton of interesting shops and places if you like and then you could come with me to see Patrick. After that we can go straight on to Trinity and we can see the library?’

‘Haven’t you seen it, like, a gazillion times?’

‘Not with you.’

‘You’re such a smooth-tongued, blarney sort of guy. I bet you’ve kissed that stone, haven’t you? Did you practise that line?’

‘Wounding me again, Hannah.’ Conor winked.

‘I just like to keep you in your place.’

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, ‘And where would that place be? On top or below?’

‘Conor!’ she said in an outraged whisper, feeling the familiar blush ride out over her cheeks.

He simply grinned and turned to the receptionist who was busy printing out sheets of paper. ‘We’ll go straight on up.’

‘Very good, Mr Byrne. You’re in the Seamus Heaney suite this time.’

‘Grand,’ said Conor, while Hannah’s mouth opened to say something. A suite. That was fancy, and not what she’d been expecting at all. Last time his room had been similar to hers.

‘So will you come with me?’ asked Conor as they went up to the third floor in the shiny black lift, as glossy as a grand piano.

‘To your lawyer’s? I thought it was family business.’

‘It is but Patrick is getting on a bit. He’s all but retired. I’d… like a second opinion.’

‘It’s really not my business,’ Hannah hedged.

‘Don’t worry, it’s just paperwork to be signed and he’s so vague sometimes, it might be helpful if there’s anything I want to query.’

Hannah pinched her lips together in thought for a moment. ‘Why are you still using him if you’re not sure about his abilities?’

‘Because we’ve always used him and he’s so close to retiring, we might as well hang on. We’ve been using his dad and him for sixty years. We might as well hang on until he retires this year.’

The lift came to a halt with a slight hydraulic bump and fall which left her stomach behind for a second, and the doors slid open. At the sight of the carpet with its retro pattern of large honeycomb hexagons, brown against gold, memories of her previous visit flooded back and she smiled, remembering her and Conor, pressed up against the doors, so focused on kissing each other that they’d almost fallen out of the lift. She glanced at him and saw that he, too, remembered.