Fran went willingly into his arms, glad of their strength and the solidity of his broad chest. She didn’t have to pretend with Ron, for he knew all her secrets and had been a stalwart father figure from the moment she’d arrived at Beach View all those years before, offering encouragement, love and guidance – and providing numerous moments of great hilarity. ‘I’m going to miss you so much,’ she said gruffly.

‘And I shall miss you, acushla,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘But you’ll always be in my heart, for you have been a daughter – a much loved daughter – and I’m so very proud of you and all you’ve achieved.’ He kissed her cheek, and still holding her hands, gave her the Irish blessing they both knew so well, and which brought tears to them both.

‘May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face; the rains fall soft upon your fields and, until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.’

‘Oh, Ron, I do so love you,’ Fran sobbed.

‘There, there, wee girl,’ he replied, softly kissing her brow. ‘Walk into the future with hope, and the assurance that if you ever need me, I’ll be here.’ He abruptly released her hands, clicked his fingers at Harvey and Monty who were sprawled in front of the fire, and put his arm around Rosie. ‘’Tis time for this old man to be abed. Sleep well, acushla, and dream happy dreams.’

Fran watched him leave the house, the dogs trailing after him, and knew how lucky they’d all been when it seemed they might have lost Ron through that accident. But he’d overcome his injuries with a strength of purpose and determination. He was a special man, and she would always think of him as a father.

Curled against Robert’s warm back later that night, Fran was soothed by his steady breathing, but couldn’t fall asleep. The memories of all the years she’d been living here came in swift succession, making her restless. Without wanting to disturb Robert, she carefully eased out of the bed, pulled on her dressing gown and tiptoed down the stairs. The house was silent but for the familiar creaks and groans of old timbers as she went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

‘I wondered if you’d come,’ murmured Peggy, rising from the fireside chair to pour out a cup of tea. ‘I couldn’t sleep either, and thought tea might help.’