‘Hello there. What can I get for you?’ he asked, his smile tinged with a touch of masculine appreciation. She could get used to it. There were women at work, like Sadie Burns-Coutts, whom she tried very hard to like, with her svelte figure, swishy, straight hair, and flirty smiles, who got this sort of reaction all the time. Hannah had never quite mastered being that confident in her appearance or as playfully feminine. She’d been too focused on proving herself with her brains. But maybe now she could relax and enjoy herself, focus on the food and a new skill rather than being the smart one all the time? ‘I’ve just opened a rather fine red wine, a Bordeaux, full of plum and cassis, just right for a dank day like today. Or I can offer you a very nice whiskey, our own Telling Small Batch, brewed right here in Dublin. That’ll warm you up.’ Again, he flashed her a wolfish grin.

Hannah wavered, struck by sudden, uncharacteristic indecision. Her intention had been to order a coffee. The temptation of something far more decadent brought about a brief internal debate. It was only four o’clock. But then, why shouldn’t she? It wasn’t as if she was going to make a habit of it. Time to live dangerously. Although really, was a glass of wine that dangerous? She almost laughed out loud. It was for her. Hannah always followed the rules. Coming to Ireland was the first out-of-character thing she’d ever done in her life. Her boss was still in shock at her asking to take a sabbatical and her family were bewildered. If it had been Mina, the impulsive, adventurous one, they wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.

‘I’ll have a glass of red wine.’

‘Excellent choice. Would you like to take a seat and I’ll bring it to you?’

Even more indulgent. Being waited on. Hannah nodded and turned to survey the room, which was empty apart from a family party over by the window; they were spread out around a long table full of empty glasses and plates and recently replenished pints and bottles of wine. Their lively chatter and laughter punctuated the calm atmosphere of the room, enveloping it with an aura of homeliness. With a smile she headed towards to the large open fireplace and one of a pair of wing-backed chairs that looked as if they might have been plucked from Sherlock Holmes’s study. As soon as she sank into the plump velvet cushions, nestling back into the chair, she propped her feet up on the little footstool so she could warm them.