‘Would you have dinner with me?’ It sounded too abrupt. ‘Please. Only if you want to. You might prefer room service. Some time alone. After all that driving.’

‘I’d like that very much. Here, at eight?’ He gestured to the restaurant behind them.

‘Here at eight. I’ll book it.’

‘See you then,’ he said. Another smile and he was gone.

She made herself go upstairs. She turned on all the lights in her room. She turned on the TV, needing background sound. She took out her phone, hesitating again about calling Olivia or Maxie. It was still too early to message Rose. She knew Lawrence had let Olivia know they were staying the extra night. She sent a group message to her godmothers: I’m sorry not to have called yet. I will as soon as I can. Love to Hazel. I hope Edgar is as well as possible. E xx.

She took a seat in the armchair by the big window. The same chair Sheila had sat in that morning. The sky was dark now. The castle loomed large across from her. Lights illuminated the stonework, making it appear mysterious. Again, she imagined her mother looking up at this castle too.

She took out the folder of printouts Maxie had given her. She found a photo of Hugh, from his retirement party. Sheila and his four sons beside him. Legendary Publican Retires, the headline read.

She looked at his image for a long time.

When she came downstairs again, Lawrence was waiting for her. At the restaurant entrance, a young waitress introduced herself, brought them water, took their orders, offered her the wine list. She declined, but offered it in turn to Lawrence.

‘Water’s fine for me too,’ he said.

Eliza had worried it would feel awkward, after all that had happened between them that day. It didn’t. They talked about their impressions of Ireland. His time in Scotland. He asked about her work with Gillian. Celine, too. He laughed when she shared some of the insults. He shared some in return. As the evening progressed, she started noticing more about him. The unusual colour of his eyes: not blue, not green, something in between. His voice: an English accent, yes, but with touches of something else too. Some Scottish, perhaps. Or something from his French mother? He had a great laugh too. She noticed again how soothing it was being in his presence. His calmness.