Conor grinned at her. ‘Adored the pants off him. You’re picking up the Irish there. You’ll be a local before you know it. I like the sound of your aunt. I think Granny Bridget might have done the same. She pulls that prune mouth whenever Polly’s name is mentioned and switches the telly off the minute Polly appears on the screen and curses at the radio if she’s ever on there. Granny’s a woman who wears her heart on her sleeve.’

‘She thought it was hilarious that I’d not heard of you.’

‘That probably endeared you to her. She’s proud of what Mam’s achieved and that Mam has created a lasting legacy, but she doesn’t like the fuss and razzmatazz that goes with it all. She likes a simple life whereas Mam was born to be a CEO. I think if she’d grown up in the city she’d have been running some big corporate entity and been the top dog.’

‘She’s a very impressive woman.’

‘That she is, no doubt. And here we are.’ They’d rounded a corner and come up on a small, narrow street which had once been a residential road but now a third of the stately Georgian houses had been converted into bars, restaurants, and hotels.

‘This place is run by another one of Adrienne’s disciples. Their cheese plate is legendary, all sourced from Ireland, from some tiny places. They also do the most amazing colcannon.’

‘Colcannon. That’s potatoes and cabbage, isn’t it?’ Hannah’s face said it all.

‘If you were a peasant back in the eighteenth century. Here it’s kale, Yukon gold potatoes, garlic, double cream, rare-breed bacon, leek, and spring onions. I tell you, it’s fierce good. They also do a mean Irish stew – not quite as good as mine, but it’s not bad.’

‘I love your modesty.’

‘I have nothing to be modest about,’ he said with one of his cheeky winks.

Chapter Twenty-Two

‘Are you sure about this, Conor? asked Hannah the next afternoon. They were standing outside a four-storeyed brick-built Georgian townhouse with beautiful wrought-iron balconies, sash windows, and a piano-black glossy door with a big brass door knocker underneath an elegant decorative fanlight. They’d walked through the peaceful environs of Merrion Square and the elegant surrounding buildings to get here and it was like stepping back in time. She could almost imagine a horse-drawn barouche bowling down the street bearing Jane Austen style characters clad in muslins and silks with feather-trimmed bonnets.

‘Yes. If Patrick thinks we’ve got some place else to be, the quicker I can get the business done. Otherwise, he’ll blather on for ages and make us stay to watch the racing. All I need to do is sign a few things and Mam wants me to ask him about something.’

‘Can’t you sign them electronically?’