‘I am. I can face anything now that I’m back here.’ She glanced round the kitchen and a memory from the first time she set foot in the room came back to her: the boys sitting at the table, Joan fretting over the stove, Nicholas walking in and his eyes never leaving hers as he kissed the top of his son’s head.

‘You look exhausted,’ said Mrs O’Keefe. ‘I’ve checked upstairs – she obviously hasn’t been staying here the last few days and she’s had someone in, I can smell the lavender of the furniture polish and I’m certain she wouldn’t even know what that is. The bed is all freshly made up – why don’t you go for a lie-down. Cat and the kids will be here soon.’

‘I think I will.’ Turning to William, Mary Kate kissed him on the cheek.

‘Come over to our house for supper on Saturday,’ he said. ‘You’re expected. I’ll pick you up in the car at seven.’

‘I’ll be ready,’ she replied. ‘I’m ready for anything now.’

Sleep was elusive. She listened to the murmurings coming up from the kitchen through the floorboards and, throwing off the cover, walked over to the window. Being in the house brought memories of Nicholas flooding back. In this room she could hear his voice, she could almost smell him, feel his touch on her skin. Her fingers flew to her throat, where the green velvet ribbon had once sat, and for the first time in a while, tears pricked her eyes.

She opened the dressing-table drawer to see if the box of tissues she’d always kept in there to remove her make-up was still there. It was, even though the rest of the drawer was bare. The box was almost empty, and when she picked it up, something rattled inside. Her heart did a somersault in her chest as she plunged her hand in. The moment she felt the plushness of the cloth and the coolness of the stone, she knew she’d found it – her green velvet ribbon.

She sat on the stool and raised her hands to fasten it around her neck. But the fingers reflected back at her in the glass weren’t hers. She closed her eyes and swayed slightly as she felt his lips brush against hers. ‘Nicholas,’ she whispered. There was no reply. There would never be a reply. She was home, she was safe, she was wearing her green velvet ribbon. She was about to embark on a new life, as a nurse, and she knew that Nicholas, her guardian angel, would be right there with her, at her side until she was ready to step out alone.

Glossary of Irish terms

boreen – narrow country lane

brack – fruit loaf

colleen – girl or young woman

curragh – small wickerwork boat or coracle

dudeen – short-stemmed clay tobacco pipe

poteen – illegal home-brewed alcohol, made from potatoes

shillelagh – stout wooden walking stick, sometimes also used as a weapon