From beneath the table, she hauled out two large flat crates and helped load them up with the flowers. It took five journeys to transport all the flowers and candles back to the greenhouse and Hannah could feel the sheen of sweat coating her forehead. Annoyingly, with each trip, her mind strayed to Conor.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Izzy as she let out a sigh, not realising she’d done it out loud.

‘Yes, fine.’

‘Are you sure? Because you keep sighing.’

‘Do I?’ asked Hannah, injecting her voice with as much innocence as she could muster and adopting what she hoped was a smile rather than a grimace. ‘These are heavier than I thought they’d be, that’s probably it.’

‘Hmm, although I’d still rather be doing the donkey work than making hollandaise sauce for seventy-five.’ Izzy led the way into the greenhouse, where the gardeners were now stringing what looked like miles of fairy lights.

‘Me too,’ said Hannah. ‘I’m never going to be a chef.’ It was all right for her to say it, but not Conor. He’d been deliberately hurtful and it still stung. Despite that, she couldn’t stop loving him or the heart-cramping pain that thinking about him brought.

‘Did you really want to be?’ asked Izzy. ‘I just wanted to learn enough about cooking that I won’t poison people and can have a go at things people ask for.’

Hannah laughed. ‘No, truth be told, I just wanted to be competent.’

‘Well, I’d say you’re more than competent.’ Izzy propped her crate on one hand as she walked along, setting the jars of flowers at regular intervals. Hannah followed her, placing candles in jars between each flower arrangement.

‘I’m going to stay in Ireland,’ said Hannah, suddenly.

Izzy nearly knocked a vase over as she spun round to face Hannah. ‘For real?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fantastic. What will you do?’

‘Remember me telling you about my friend Aidan? We used to work together in England. He’s offered me a job and…’ Hannah winced. ‘You were the one who said I wasn’t a romantic but I think Ireland has changed that.’ Putting another candle down on the next table, she waved a hand at the view through the window. ‘I can’t imagine not seeing this anymore. The thought of going back to work in the city, in an office in a high rise, makes me feel slightly claustrophobic. Which is weird because I’ve always loved my job – I still do, but…’ She laughed at herself. ‘I want chickens.’ She also wanted a man like Conor in her life, but, she realised with an inward pang, she couldn’t do anything about that. She could, however, do something about the chickens.