Elle had seen her from a distance at the funeral a few days ago, but somehow hadn’t had the chance to talk to her. And how strange that she’d been thinking about her and their debs night in the dining room only that morning.

‘You look amazing,’ her old friend cried, and Elle sensed that behind the effusive welcome was the tiniest hint of hurt, or regret.

‘So do you,’ said Elle, meaning it. Her old friend had finally grown into her tall awkward limbs and her dark hair fell in soft waves around her face. ‘And who is this?’

‘This,’ said Hazel proudly, ‘is Alex. Say “hello”, Alex.’

The child, who looked about six, dutifully said hello and then moved closer to the water’s edge, running away from the little waves, much like she and Penny had done as children.

‘I’m so sorry about your mum,’ said Hazel. ‘She was so much a part of this place.’

Elle nodded. ‘Thank you. I saw you at the funeral but didn’t get a chance to chat . . . how have you been?’ she asked, not wanting to dwell on sad times.

‘Well, as you can see . . .’ said Hazel, indicating Alex. ‘Busy! But I only have the one child so far. I run a garden centre out on the Dublin Road with my husband. Specialist plants and so on and we hope to open a café and a food market soon. You know how these lifestyle places are all the rage now.’

‘Really? Not in the old orchard?’ She spotted a garden centre on the way in to town and had idly wondered who had bothered to fix up the abandoned stone farmhouse set in the old apple orchard.

‘Exactly,’ said Hazel. ‘The house is a bit more respectable these days though.’

Elle laughed. It had been where Hazel and Elle had gone to smoke cigarettes and talk about dreams when they were sixteen. Back then Hazel had wanted to be a set designer, Elle remembered.

‘I hear you’re going to do up the hotel?’ Hazel continued conversationally.

Elle was surprised. ‘How did you hear that?’

‘Oh, Rob pops in and out sometimes. And you know yourself, small town . . . news travels fast.’

‘Of course,’ said Elle, slightly annoyed that Rob was blabbing their business around town. ‘Yes, we thought we would see what we could do. It needs a lot of work.’

‘You know I was married there?’

‘Yes. Yes, I remember,’ said Elle. With a flush of shame she remembered that she had been invited to the wedding but hadn’t replied, had forgotten all about it, until it was too late.

‘It was a wonderful day,’ said Hazel, perhaps remembering the same thing. ‘We had the ceremony in the garden and your mother made the most beautiful cake. She remembered how I loved the roaring 20s and did a big Gatsby theme with the food and in the ballroom. Everyone danced there until dawn almost.’