It was these intimate things she wanted to clear away, so her dad didn’t have to feel like his wife was about to walk through the door again any moment. The rest – her mum’s clothes, her make-up, her jewellery – that could all wait until Elle came home.

There would be the funeral to get through first, of course: sharing memories with all those in the community who knew Anna, and finding that all of them remembered her a little bit differently.

But then Ned, Elle and Penny would return to the hotel, which in some strange way would also be grieving Anna’s loss. It might limp along without her for a few weeks, but there was no denying that she had truly been the soul of the place. If people came for the beautiful views and the faded splendour of the rooms, soaked in history, they also came for Anna and her slightly off-kilter sense of humour, her way of knowing what you wanted, what you really wanted, without having to ask for it.

Her mother had known people, understood that most of the time they simply wanted a little bit of a reprieve from their day-to-day lives. She strove to give them a break, to make them feel as though they’d almost gone back in time. The hotel was a beautiful stage, and Anna was the director, working to pull the whole experience together. People came for her famous roast chicken, her delicious old-style fairy cakes, the icing that dissolved on the tongue . . . They came for the fifty-three varieties of tea, traditional and exotic, and for her ready smile and easy chat over breakfast. When they came to the Bay Hotel, they were coming because of Anna, even if they didn’t know it.

Of course, over the years, as these things go, local trade had dwindled, and more and more of those born in the little beach town had moved away to bigger Irish towns or cities. They said (much like her own sister had) things like: ‘It’s a great place to grow up in, but it’s so small – there’s no opportunity.’

And as tourist numbers to the town had also begun to falter, there was less money for the upkeep of the hotel. It was still beautiful, no doubt about it, but more like a memory of beauty at this point. Penny had heard more than one guest say: ‘Oh, imagine what it must have been like in its heyday.’ She knew that it was her mother’s dearest wish to see the building restored to its old glory, but there was never enough money.