‘Mary Kate, there is nothing and nowhere in the world that can do that. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but the important thing is people, and those people may not be family. You can always come and see us, as often as you like, but the things you want from your life might not be available here in Tarabeg.’

Mary Kate looked into the face of the kindly Captain Bob and she understood why her Aunty Bee loved him so much.

He made his way to the car and before he climbed in he shouted back at her, ‘I’m off out of Blacksod Bay tomorrow and over towards Scotland. I’ll be gone a night or two but back in time for the dance. If I don’t see you beforehand, I’ll pick you up for the long hall at seven and then we are up to the farm to collect your ladies. Have you plans for the rest of the week?’

Mary Kate leant against the doorjamb and slipped her hands into her pockets. ‘No, just more visiting and sitting in kitchens being plied with tea. Off to visit Ellen Carey tomorrow and then the usual round of the village. I would imagine that after today I’ll be asked a million questions. Maybe Ellen won’t even let me in.’

‘Don’t be daft.’ Captain Bob laughed. ‘She’ll let you in just for the gossip – she won’t be barring you from the tailor’s shop until after she has it. Mind, she’ll probably ask Father Jerry to step in and bless the place after you’ve left and wash the chair you sat on in holy water. Now get some sleep, will you.’

After waving him off, she’d stepped back inside and closed the door. The cottage was flooded with a warm glow from the now fiercely burning lamp and, just as every Irishwoman did on returning home, she went straight to the fire and made sure the embers were alight. Now that she’d moved in, she couldn’t let them go out; if she did, the damp from the sea air would take hold and it would take another week to drive it out from the stone walls.

She looked around the cottage and her heart sank, but before she had a chance to dwell on thoughts of Nicholas, or Liverpool, there came the sound of a car driving along the cliff road. She flung open the door, thinking it was Captain Bob returned, but it wasn’t Captain Bob, it was Declan.

Declan stepped out of the car, removed his cap and stood and looked at her, waiting for an acknowledgement from her in order that he would feel comfortable approaching. She raised her hand and waved him up.

‘How are ye?’ he asked as he reached her. ‘I have the paint and I thought I would call up tomorrow, if that’s all right with you?’

She stood back and opened the door wider. ‘It is, and come in, I’ll be glad of the company, Declan. I was about to put the kettle on the fire – will you stay for a drink?’ It was obvious Declan hadn’t called just to ask about the painting of the cottage; there was something on his mind and she could read him like an open book.