‘Paddy will be waiting up for us to get back, so he will. He won’t be expecting us to carry on up to the farms,’ one of the farmhands shouted out as the singing stopped.

‘God bless Paddy,’ said another, and, despite the hour, their pace quickened at the thought of a drink and a warm welcome in the village bar.

Pete had his cap pulled down low over his eyes and his hands thrust deep into his pockets as, once more, the singing began.

‘Did you enjoy that, Pete?’ Peggy asked.

‘Aye, it was good enough,’ he said, not raising his head or looking at her. ‘It would have been better without the ghillie. He was fierce protective about the drink. I don’t know why, ’tis not as if the man himself needs it where he’s gone.’

He stole a glance at her, the lantern illuminating her profile, her eyes shining as she looked ahead and smiled at the singing. It was so dark and he was so quick, she didn’t see him look, but his heart pounded in his chest at nothing more than the closeness of her body to his. Her shawl brushed against him and his breath caught in his throat as she placed her hand on his arm and squeezed it. He looked down in shock, at her hand and then to her face, as, smiling, she sang along with the others.

‘If you will bend and tell me that you love me,

Then I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.’

She smiled again, her eyes scanning his face.

He stared, not knowing what to say or do.

The rest of the party continued singing and, embarrassed, Peggy abruptly removed her hand from Pete’s forearm, tore her eyes away and stared down at her feet. Pete looked straight ahead. She had no idea what to say or do next. She waited for him to ask her a question, feeling increasingly foolish. Her face burnt hot and she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her.

Their steps crunched on the road. Pete was silent. No words were forthcoming. She scrambled for something to say, wondering what she could do to cover her embarrassment, how to change the subject and keep the conversation going. ‘Did Joe not come to the wake?’ she blurted out.

Her words were like a knife slicing deep into his heart. He knew it – Joe was the only man she had any interest in. She was just being the usual overly friendly Peggy. What an eejit was he to have thought even for a moment that she’d been singing those words to him. If he could have punched himself he would have. It had been that way ever since Joe had arrived in Tarabeg and tonight was no different. Peggy was mad about the American man. He shook his head. ‘No, he walked Philomena up and then headed straight off again. Had business in Galway. He’s not much interested in what goes on in the village or the people in it. And he’s no interest in the Carters or the wake – he never knew the captain,’ he said, more sharply than he’d intended. ‘He’s in Galway every chance he has now. Some think he has a woman there.’