Hannah took a step back as the two of them swung into action, with Adrienne materialising and joining in. It was the proverbial well-oiled machine with the three of them elegantly manoeuvring around each other. Conor sliced wedges of lemon and pierced the flesh with clove and Bridget spooned out brown sugar into all the cups and mugs that Adrienne had gathered from every corner of the kitchen. Amazingly there were twelve which was just enough for all the people that had now crowded into the kitchen as well. Fergus, with Niamh on his knee, Franklin, and Meredith had squashed themselves into the sofa by the wood burner, which Alan was lighting, while Izzy, Fliss, and Jason took kitchen chairs.

At last, with boiling hot water poured into the mugs of whiskey, lemon, sugar, and cloves, the drinks were doled out. With hot whiskey to sip and the fire roaring in the wood burner, everyone quietened. It felt like story time as Conor looked around the room. ‘Sláinte.’ Everyone chorused, ‘Sláinte,’ back to him and took a sip.

‘Ah uisce beatha,’ sighed Franklin. ‘Water of life.’

‘It certainly is,’ said Adrienne, closing her eyes for a moment before turning a fierce gaze on Conor. ‘Now, are you going to tell us what kept you from the party?’

‘You know Moss Murphy’s been bragging about making his fortune?’

‘Yes, but you told me yourself, from Patrick, that he has no access. The bottom half of the road is ours.’

‘Ah but the aul devil realised he could get access through the bottom field onto the main road.’

‘How?’ asked Bridget indignantly. ‘Tis our land and has been forever.’

Conor turned to Hannah. ‘Would you like to explain?’

‘In law, if someone helps themselves to a piece of land and the landowner doesn’t object or claim it back, after twelve years it legally belongs to them. Moss Murphy put the fence up twelve years ago and because you never took it down or asked him to, legally he could claim that you hadn’t objected.’

‘That bastard,’ spat Bridget.

‘That’ll be a euro in the jar,’ said Jason, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair with an ever so slightly smug expression.

‘Twelve years?’ echoed Franklin. ‘The sneaky shite.’

‘And another one.’ Jason grinned.

‘I’ll fecking kill him if I get my hands on him,’ said Adrienne, her face reddening. ‘And before you say it, Jason, I’ll put ten euros in the jar because I’ve a feeling I’ll be using a lot of bad language before morning. How dare that bastard try and steal from under us.’

‘It’s OK.’ Hannah held up a calming hand. ‘We took the fence down before the twelve years was up.’

‘How do you know?’ asked Fergus from the sofa.