‘No one knows. One minute wedding bells were on the horizon, the next she’s taken up with someone else. Not that it bothered Conor. He’s had a succession of arm candy ever since. Been playing the field – he’s got more mileage in him than a hire car. I don’t think he’s the sort to settle down. He’s got what my mother would call a roving eye. And look at him. He has to beat them off with a stick.’

That girl in the bar in Dublin was a case in point, thought Hannah. No wonder he wasn’t interested in her, no one would mistake her for a celebrity. He could have anyone he wanted and probably had.

‘You don’t look so impressed, Hannah,’ observed Izzy. ‘Not your type?’

She gave a half-laugh. ‘No, I’m not keen on people who think so much of themselves.’

‘Sensible girl,’ said Meredith in stout support. ‘Far too good for him. Have you got a boyfriend at home?’

‘No,’ said Hannah.

‘Whyever not? Attractive girl like you.’

Hannah shrugged. ‘I’ve had a few, but…’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘Not met the right one.’

Most of the men she met were work colleagues who were already taken or men who tried to pick her up with lame chat-up lines that revealed the gulf between them. She wanted someone smart and driven with ambition; they didn’t need to be wealthy, but they needed to have something about them. It wasn’t that much to ask, was it?

‘What about you, Izzy?’

Izzy laughed as well. ‘Nope. Spectacularly single. Although I’ve had a few offers, but more because they think I’m rich, which I’m not.’

‘Sounds interesting.’

‘Not really. It’s a bit of a disaster, actually. My great uncle left me his stately pile. And can I leave it at that?’ Izzy slumped a little and drained her glass. ‘Who’s for another?’

‘Let me get them,’ said Hannah, jumping to her feet, part of her wanting to prove to herself and to Conor that she was indifferent to him.

‘What would you like, Merry?’ She looked over to the bar. Conor was there chatting to the barman.

‘I’ll have a wine this time. Less volume. I’ll be peeing all night if I drink any more Guinness. To be honest, I’m not that keen. Still think it tastes like earwax.’ She nodded at her almost-full glass. ‘I’ll offer Jason the rest. He doesn’t seem the sort to be too fussy.’

As Hannah approached the bar, butterflies taking ridiculously over-enthusiastic flight in her stomach, she tried to school her face into a casual, fancy-seeing-you-here expression, as if she hadn’t noticed him before.

‘Hello, Hannah.’