Someone New

by Zoe Miller

Genres: Women's Fiction

Synopsis

Grace is beginning to wonder if a recent tragedy might be more than what it seems - but will anyone believe her? In her heart, Grace knows the reliable, good-looking Gavin isn't right for her. Then she meets Danny. Unpredictable and spontaneous, he turns her world upside down. All of a sudden, Grace is seeing life differently and doing things she never thought she'd do. But tragedy strikes when Danny dies in a motorbike accident, shattering Grace's world. As she struggles to come to terms with her loss, she becomes more and more convinced that she's being followed - sighting a motorbike exactly like Danny's everywhere she goes. As more and more sinister things begin to happen, Grace voices her suspicions - that his death was not an accident - but no one seems willing to believe her. Was Danny hiding something from her? And what kind of danger is she in now?

Release date: April 7, 2016

Publisher: Hachette Ireland

Print pages: 416

Sample

Sometimes Grace still saw him standing in her doorway, exactly as he’d stood before he’d left that evening; other times he drifted through her dreams, smiling back at her from the divide between them, but for once she wasn’t thinking of him as she arrived home from the office and let herself into the apartment block.

She picked up the small padded envelope from her post box in the foyer, along with a mobile phone advertisement, shoving both of them into her tote bag as she hurried across to the waiting lift. The doors snapped closed just as she reached it, so she took the stairs to the second floor, walking briskly down the corridor to her apartment, mildly curious as to what the envelope might contain. The advertisement went straight into the bin – no, she didn’t need the latest in smartphone technology, no matter how many mega pixels it had.

The padded envelope was addressed to her in block capitals with a black felt pen. At first she didn’t know what to make of the small pieces of paper that were tucked inside. She poked them out with her finger and spread them across the table, turning them coloured side up. Then from one of the pieces, his eyes looked up at her, from another, his mouth. Another piece showed the top of his head. And a fourth was a part of his hips. She sifted through the fragments, her hand shaking as she turned them this way and that, fitting them together.

She was by now used to the empty feel of her apartment, but this evening the silence seemed to take on a life of its own, resonating around her. Even though a square of warm May sunshine slanted across the far wall, illuminating the life-affirming posters like some kind of beacon, she felt chilly inside. She scooped up the torn photograph, shoved it back into the envelope and rammed it into the bin.

She had no idea who might have sent this, but as if he or she was still lurking around, she glanced out the kitchen window and down to the landscaped courtyard that was situated in the small space between three identical apartment blocks. It was shadowed from the sun by the height of the five-storey blocks, and the courtyard was deserted save for a discarded plastic bag caught in a tree branch, flapping like a small, forgotten ghost.

She went across to the big picture window in the living area, and rested her forehead against the glass, hoping her chill might evaporate as she stood in the last rays of sunshine before it slid away westwards behind the adjacent apartment block. From the second floor of Rathbrook Hall, there wasn’t much to see except the glint of glass and chrome off evening traffic streaming down the link road towards the M50, and oncoming traffic heading up towards the retail parks and the village of Rathbrook.

After she plugged in the kettle, she ran her fingertips through the long, flowing tail of the kite secured to the tall kitchen press. It was shaped like a butterfly, and it was a lively blaze of yellow and red against the cream press. It floated out onto the air under the touch of her hand, twirling around for her before settling back down again. Although she’d be thirty years of age in a few months’ time, it usually had the power to make her smile.

It was impossible to summon a smile this evening.

Up to now it had been a gut feeling, an odd sense that something wasn’t quite right. But there was no denying the malice behind this photograph. It had been sent to rattle her and it worked, because it deepened her unease, and the evening imploded around her as all the joy and heartache of the last few months came rushing back.

Five months earlier

Christmas was two weeks away, and every inch of the gastropub was alive with flashing decorations and festive party-goers singing out-of-tune carols. Framed by the big picture windows, and adding to the frenzied sparkle, the length of the Royal Hibernian Way outside was ablaze with incandescent streams of twinkly lights. Sitting in a seat by the window, Grace felt marooned, surrounded on all sides by an abundance of Christmas cheer, but in contrast to the cheerful glitter of it all, Grace’s heart was sinking lower and lower.

Agreeing to meet Gavin for a drink had not been a good idea.

‘You look great …’ Gavin said. She thought there was a hint of mild surprise in his voice as though he’d expected her to look unhappy or discontented, or – God forbid – heartbroken that they were finished.

‘Thank you,’ she said. She’d come straight from the office, swopping her black jacket and white shirt for a floaty, red chiffon top over a matching vest. She’d worn it on purpose because it best covered her generous cleavage, something Gavin used to like seeing on display – but only when he was with her.

‘So do you,’ she added, closing her mind to the white lie. He’d also come from the office and had taken off his overcoat to reveal a sharp grey suit and white shirt with a striped tie. He’d ordered a bottle of wine, pouring a generous glass for Grace, and a half glass for himself. His clothes looked like a perfectly arranged uniform, but his face looked pale, his eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion and lines that hadn’t been there before.

‘You’re joking,’ he said. ‘I look wrecked. Thanks to a party last night, I didn’t hit the sack until four, and I don’t know how I crawled through today in the office. Then there was a cheese and wine event this afternoon. I could have done without that.’ He sounded like it was a boast of sorts. The words ‘wrecked’ and ‘party’ had rarely occurred together in any of Gavin’s sentences, never mind references to four in the morning.

‘Out until four? You’ve turned over a new leaf,’ Grace said, marvelling at the understatement.

‘I was out with some accountancy heads I knew from college. Turns out one of them works in that building where you got stuck in the lift that day.’ Gavin said it casually enough but she imagined that his eyes were keener than usual as he gazed at her.

‘Really?’ She said, equally casually. Her mind spun back to the October day when she’d called to a dressmaker to collect a dress that had been in for repair, and had got stuck in a lift between floors for almost an hour. She hoped Gavin hadn’t guessed that it had been the very day she’d started to visualise what her life could be like without him in it.

Her hopes faded when he went on to say, sounding as if he was choosing his words carefully, ‘Things were never … the same between us after that, Grace. God knows what you were thinking about, stuck in a dark lift, all alone, for the guts of an hour.’ He raised an inquisitive eyebrow and his blue eyes held hers with a questioning glint.

Grace said, crossing her fingers against the lie under the table, ‘I was far too panicked to think about anything except getting out in one piece.’

‘I think it had a bigger effect on you than you realised.’ She thought his eyes narrowed slightly but then he went on, changing the subject, saying quite casually, and not as if this was a whole new language for him, ‘And I’ve more punishment lined up for tomorrow night, the new place in South William Street this time.’

‘Hey, you’ve turned into a right party animal,’ Grace said. ‘The break has been good for both of us.’

‘So in other words,’ he said, tilting his head quizzically to one side, ‘You haven’t changed your mind. About us?’ He smiled as he spoke, but there was a tightness in his face.

Grace felt on edge. She’d nothing to say to Gavin that he wanted to hear. The realisation that she’d rather be anywhere else but sitting across the table from him, struggling to make meaningless small talk, crept through her like a paralysis of sorts. She tried to pull herself together. It was over. She was free of him; free of the hundred and one things about him that had begun to aggravate her immensely in recent months. This was just a friendly Christmas drink for old times’ sake. It had been a casual suggestion, tossed out for good measure the evening Gavin had moved out after they’d agreed to go their separate ways. It had suddenly hit Grace that after three years of being in a relationship, including six months of living together, this was actually it. He was about to walk out the door of her apartment and out of her life. So as a way of easing the parting, besides soothing her waves of guilt, Grace had heard herself say, without really meaning it, ‘Meet you for a Christmas drink …?’

Gavin had responded, hesitating in the doorway, ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ she’d said, managing to half convince herself. ‘It’ll be good to catch up and see how we’re getting on …’ Surely it was the least she could do?

‘You mean in case all this is a mistake?’

‘It’ll be a chance to wish you a Happy Christmas, if nothing else …’ She’d known even then that breaking up wasn’t going to be a mistake.

Then earlier that day, four weeks after he’d moved out, Gavin had texted her suggesting they meet for that drink, and despite the drop of her heart, she’d agreed.

The crowd of young women at the next table were joined by more party-goers, who grabbed extra chairs and drew them across. One of the women bumped into Gavin’s chair, and the impact caused the glittery Christmas tiara she was wearing to fall off her head. Gavin smiled good-humouredly as he picked it up, handing it to her with a funny quip and moving his own chair a little closer to Grace to give the women more space. Typical of mannerly Gavin, Grace thought. Even so, manners hadn’t been enough for her.

A habit, was what she’d said, when she’d first begun to talk very tentatively about a break. She’d gone straight from college into Arcadia, a big insurance firm, where she still worked. Although she’d had casual dates, Gavin had been her first serious relationship, she’d pointed out gently. She hadn’t really lived her life at all, she’d said. Neither had he. He really hadn’t, continuing with evening studies after he’d gone straight from college to start his career in his uncle’s accountancy firm. They were too dependent on each other and needed some breathing space. How did they know what they wanted out of life, the kind of people they could really be, when they hadn’t really stretched their wings?

These were the words and phrases that she’d begun to drop into their conversations, as benignly as possible. Then somehow, when her suggestion of a temporary break – ‘to see how it would feel’ – hadn’t met undue resistance, it had tentatively morphed into a total break. After all, she’d said, treading very carefully, it was the only way they’d learn to stand on their own feet, leaving them both free to find their rightful place in the world. They’d never do that if they were still looking back over their shoulders at each other, or planning on having a great reunion. Which wasn’t to say it might never happen for them again, she’d said falteringly in the face of his sad smile.

To her utter relief, he’d agreed with her. In lots of ways, Gavin was too nice for his own good. Too mindful of Grace, far too attentive when it came to her needs, acutely observant of every move she made. But the day he’d left her apartment, it was as if a huge suffocating cloud had lifted from her life, something intangible and formless that she couldn’t explain to anyone. Never one to interfere, even her Mum had admitted when she’d come home from Paris for a weekend, that she was slightly mystified at the way Grace had ended the relationship.

‘It just wasn’t doing anything for me,’ Grace had told her. ‘Gavin is, well, sometimes I found him too nice.’

‘I don’t think there’s any such thing as being too much of a good guy,’ her mother had said, her voice tentative as though she was afraid of what Grace might say or do. ‘We need plenty of good manners to help us get through the ups and downs of everyday life. More so than ever in this day and age. I thought you and Gavin were all set for the altar rails.’ Her mother had given Grace a studied look which Grace interpreted as there being something lacking in her, and that she hadn’t fully appreciated Gavin’s finer points or her good luck in landing a man like him. Not like her clever older sister Lucia, who’d only ever had a serious relationship with one man, the equally clever and successful Robert, and had dutifully married him in a blaze of perfect wedding glory.

Looking at Gavin across the table, Grace knew that far from missing him, she’d been utterly relieved to be on her own in the apartment without feeling like she was running out of air, not to mention her guilt for failing to muster up the requisite feelings of love and devotion.

‘I haven’t changed my mind,’ Grace said softly, feeling guilty again because Gavin was staring at her as though he’d hoped for a different answer. ‘I think we both needed to spread our wings.’

Something dulled in his eyes.

She clenched her hand, her fingernails digging into her palm. ‘How’s everything in the world of accountancy?’ she asked. ‘Still keeping them on their toes?’ She forced herself to sound cheerful, knowing he liked talking about his career and his climb up the ladder. McCabe Corrigan had big-name clients on their list.

‘I’ve just finished the latest round of exams and we’ve big stuff coming up in the New Year.’

‘Partner here we come,’ she said

‘That’s the plan. Hopefully, that one won’t misfire,’ he said pointedly.

She ignored his reference to broken plans. She knew they could trust Gavin to be diligent about every aspect of his casework. It helped that he had a kind of eager-to-please face. Sometimes in those last few weeks together that face had begun to irritate her immensely.

‘And how’s your cousin?’ she asked.

‘My cousin?’

‘Yes, Trevor. You told me you were moving in with him.’

Gavin, in his astute wisdom and perfect timing, had entered the property ladder and bought a house as an investment when prices had plummeted at the lowest point of the recession, but it was on the outer edge of the commuter belt, so he’d it let out when he’d moved in to Grace’s more convenient south Dublin apartment. He’d been unable to return there after the split with Grace, moving instead into the spare room in his cousin’s apartment.

‘Yep, it worked out handy enough,’ he said. ‘But it’s just temporary until I find somewhere else. Are you still on your own?’ he asked.

‘Of course I am,’ Grace said. ‘Why?’

‘Once or twice …’ he gave her a half smile, and began to move the salt and pepper mills around the wooden tabletop as though he were shifting pieces on a chess board. ‘I wondered, Grace, if you’d finished with me because you’d met someone new.’

He plonked down the salt cellar right in front of her as though he was declaring ‘checkmate’.

‘I don’t know why you thought that,’ she said.

‘So you haven’t, then …’

‘Hey, give me a chance,’ she laughed, feeling hot and embarrassed. He was so intense, he could have been searching for irregularities in a revenue return. ‘It’s only been a few weeks. And who says I want anyone else in my life?’

‘So even though there’s no one else, we are over, over.’

‘I guess we are …’ she spoke softly and looked as regretful as she could, given the fact that she knew she’d made the right decision. ‘I hope you meet someone if that’s what you want. Someone lovely. And I hope she’ll really appreciate you and all your good qualities and make you feel amazing. You’re on the way to the top of your career, you’re a brilliant person – you deserve someone really special.’ Was she really trotting all this out? Grace wanted to kick herself for sounding so sanctimonious.

‘But you won’t be my someone special.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘No more Gav ’n’ Grace …’

Gav ’n’ Grace; it had been their pet name, their signature. He’d made it up, thinking it sounded cool. She’d begun to hate it.

‘No, I think you and I … just kind of fizzled out.’ She twirled her silver bracelet round and round. Then she remembered that he’d given it to her for her twenty-ninth birthday in September, and she allowed her sleeve to drop down and cover it in case he thought it was significant that she was wearing it tonight.

‘And here was I hoping you might have changed your mind and realised we were in it for the long haul.’ He gave her a soft, lop-sided smile. ‘Before the split, I’d started to look at some rings so I could pop the question. I thought Christmas would be the perfect time.’

Her stomach tightened at the mention of engagement rings. There was a burst of laughter and loud whoops from the adjacent table, all the more off-putting in its total variance with what was happening at theirs.

‘Just as well we found out before we made any big commitment,’ Grace said, feeling sad and hollow.

‘Found out what?’

She was suddenly at a loss. ‘Found out … that we weren’t meant to be,’ she said lamely.

She’d known that ending the romance wasn’t going to be easy, but she wished he hadn’t mentioned marriage, reminding her of the extent to which she’d let him down. It had been the first real relationship for both of them and now there was nothing much to show for it.

‘Weren’t we?’ He took her hand in his. It felt a little sweaty and she swallowed hard. She would have preferred that he not touch her and she hoped it didn’t show in her face. ‘No worries, Grace. I hope you’ll have a good Christmas,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘And I hope you have a great rest-of-your-life, you deserve the best. Obviously I’m sorry it won’t be me, but no hard feelings, okay?’

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’

‘So this is it, our final goodbye then.’

‘Seems as if it is.’

‘Still friends?’

‘Still friends,’ she said.

‘Good. Do you mind if I run now? I’m a little worse for wear after last night and I need to get out of here.’

‘Sure.’ She was relieved to have a legitimate reason to slide her hand out of his. She picked up her bag but he stalled her.

‘No, you stay and finish the wine. I feel like shite – sorry – and I need some fresh air so I’m going to make a dash for it.’ He was already up on his feet and shrugging into his coat. He filled her glass with the last of the wine, and he came around to give her a kiss on the cheek. She thought he murmured something about always loving her, but it was lost in the laughter coming from the next table and then he was gone, sidling through gaps in the too-packed tables towards the door.

She was left alone, left high and dry at Christmas-party central, his final, sad little smile searing through her brain.

I’d started to look at some rings.

For a long moment, Grace couldn’t breathe; everything swam around her, a sea of curious faces throwing her sidelong glances, a jumble of silly party hats and mistletoe being tossed around the adjacent table, overhead strands of fairy lights blinking in her face and competing with the blaze from the laneway outside. Everything was embellished even further with a backing track of a maudlin Christmas song about being lonely at Christmas.

She saw her reflection in the plate glass window, her face pale, her short blonde hair gleaming. She took a gulp of her wine, her lips feeling rubbery. She’d done the right thing, she was sure of it, so why did she feel so crap? Gavin had looked so sad, that’s why. She’d dashed all his hopes, his expectations, his dreams, with her rejection. She’d seen right through his attempts this evening to make it sound like he was having the time of his life, with parties stacking up around him. He’d probably forced himself to go out with the gang of accountants last night. She was to blame for the greeny-grey look of him. She was also to blame for him being lonely at Christmas – but a ring around her finger would have felt like a noose around her neck.

She took more gulps of her wine. Under the table, she clenched her knees together to stop them from knocking wildly. She should never have agreed to meet him. She’d forgotten how much courage it had taken to start the splitting-up process and finally say goodbye, and now she felt weak and dazed.

Her glass was almost empty. Then as she was sitting there, too shaky to move, Danny appeared, whirling into her life like a gulp of sparkling fresh air.

‘Are you okay?’

Grace blinked, looked up and slowly let out her breath. The man gradually came into focus. Thirtyish, or near enough, same as her. Friendly green eyes, a wide, generous mouth, a black leather jacket, and narrow, jean-clad hips; best of all, no party hat cocked at an angle on his unruly muddy-brown hair, and no sign of any mistletoe. She tried to speak, but her mouth was dry so she took the last sip of wine.

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she said, smoothing her hair behind her ears, realising that her fingers were trembling and she wasn’t fine after all. She knew if she tried to get up, her legs would buckle from under her.

‘I thought you looked a bit shaken,’ he said, his eyes warm with concern. ‘That guy, he wasn’t giving you any grief was he? He shouldn’t have walked out and left you like this.’

‘No, it’s fine. We were just having a Christmas drink. Ex-boyfriend.’

‘Ex-boyfriend?’

‘Yeah, we split up recently … hey, why am I telling you this?’ Timing, that was why. Plus, he had the kind of empathetic face that made her feel he was safe to talk to.

‘You don’t have to tell me anything at all,’ he said, in a lilting, west-of-Ireland voice, the warm tone of which matched his face. ‘Will I wait here for a few minutes to make sure you’re all right? Can’t have you sitting there, crying all alone.’

‘Am I crying?’ she asked, giving a shaky laugh. She put her hand up to her face and felt the tears on her cheek. She rummaged for a tissue and swiftly dabbed them away. ‘You must be Fireman Sam coming to the rescue,’ she said. He was someone you wouldn’t mind giving you a fireman’s lift. On the contrary.

He grinned a charismatic grin. ‘So you do need to be rescued. I don’t know who Fireman Sam is and I’m not sure how good my rescuing skills are but Danny McBride is willing to give it a go.’

‘Well Danny, it’s very convenient that you’re standing there right now,’ she said, her voice still a little trembly, ‘because you’re blocking the view.’

‘Blocking the view?’

‘Yeah, the view that gang at the next table is getting – the ones who can’t seem to stop staring at me.’

‘Glad I’m useful for something.’

She leaned back and scrutinised him properly. ‘Where did you come from? Haven’t you anything better to do with your time? Some party to go to?’

He said, with a perfectly straight face, ‘I’m due in the North Pole shortly. I need to help an important guy assemble a few teddy bears. Other than that, no.’

‘Okay, you can sit down,’ she said, making up her mind swiftly, even though he didn’t answer the first part of her question. After the strain and tension of talking to Gavin, Danny and his friendly manner made for a welcome distraction. Sitting in the chair just vacated by Gavin, he blocked her from the view of the women at the next table, like some kind of personal bodyguard.

He poured her a glass of water. ‘Get this into you,’ he said. ‘All of it.’

‘Thanks. You’re a friend in need. And Grace Bailey could use a friendly face right now.’

He made a funny face. ‘Is this friendly enough, Grace?’

‘Mmm, sort of.’

He caught the waitress’s attention and ordered a fresh carafe of water. It appeared almost instantly, even though the gastropub was jammed, because a guy like him had no problem getting service. Danny McBride’s green eyes were fringed with thick dark lashes. When he slid off his jacket and scarf, he was wearing a black jumper underneath. He had nice hands. He poured more water, taking a glass for himself, and he was so easy to talk to compared with edgy Gavin that she found herself unwinding little by little.

‘So, you’ve split from your boyfriend.’

‘Yes. A few weeks ago.’

‘Ah … did he … or did you …?’

She hesitated.

‘It’s good to talk to someone neutral, you know,’ he said. ‘Like a stranger on a plane. No strings. Honest. I’d forget whatever you said as soon as I walk out of here.’

How come she felt so at ease? And so comfortable with him? As though she’d known him forever? ‘It was me,’ she said, relieved to unburden herself. ‘I suggested a break and it snowballed from there to a total split. I felt so bad about it the day he moved out that I suggested a Christmas drink for old times’ sake, but now I know that wasn’t a good idea. We’d parted on good terms,’ Grace went on, ‘so I was quite happy to meet him tonight for a Christmas drink, only it was harder than I realised. I thought it was just a drink for old times’ sake, that he’d become as … bored with me as I was with him. But I was wrong.’

‘Bored?’ his eyes twinkled. ‘Don’t you know life’s far too precious to waste one single minute feeling bored?’

‘Yes, but he’s so nice, really, Gavin, and I know I hurt him. He told me tonight that he’d planned on asking me to marry him.’

Danny gave her a thoughtful look. ‘And what would you have said?’

She shrugged, forced a half-smile and took a refreshing mouthful of water. ‘Unfortunately I would have wanted to say “no”.’

‘Well then. Isn’t it just as well you didn’t let it get that far and ended it when you did?’

‘I felt sad and kind of crappy. And guilty in a way because I know I hurt him.’

‘And if you’d agreed to marry him, to save him that hurt, then what?’

She didn’t answer.

‘What would your life have been like in five years’ time?’ he asked.

She looked up at the festive bunting, at the strands of Christmassy garlands and outside to the procession of people passing along the laneway under the rainbow of lights. She turned back to him. ‘Don’t ask …’ she sighed. ‘I haven’t a clue other than it wouldn’t have been me. Still, it’s probably the worst time of the year to remind someone that you don’t want them anymore,’ she finished up, horrified to hear a slight break in her voice.

He smiled. ‘Grace, if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that the loneliest people in the world are those who are trying to be someone they shouldn’t be.’

‘And when did you learn that?’

It was his turn to be silent for a moment. Behind his friendly banter, she sensed something deep and thoughtful about him. He topped up their water and gave her a wry grin. ‘When I learned to stop following the pack. Eventually.’

‘I see,’ she said, wondering what pack he’d been following, knowing intuitively not to ask.

‘If you didn’t feel the right kind of stuff for Gavin, it would have been crazy to pretend, for both your sakes. God knows what you would have been like in a few years’ time.’

‘Cracking up, most likely. Or living a half life, like a kind of shadow.’

‘So what made you decide to end things?’

She felt a smile rippling across her face. ‘I was stuck in a lift one day, a couple of months ago,’ she said. ‘I began to think what life without Gavin would be like … and I knew then that I had to make the break.’ There was a pause, Grace only half aware of the laughter coming from the adjoining table.

Danny asked, ‘Well then … you were right. Apart from tonight, were you doing okay?’

‘I was doing fine.’

‘That’s great, but I don’t think we can sit here much longer dragging out a jug of water,’ Danny said, pushing the carafe away. ‘Would you like some food? Or a drink?’

‘No, thanks, I’d rather leave,’ she said, knowing she could go on talking to him all night, but needing to get away from where she’d finally said goodbye to Gavin.

‘How about we take a walk up to the Christmas markets on the Green?’

‘I hardly know you, Danny McBride,’ she smiled, because it scarcely mattered.

‘I’m twenty-nine next birthday, originally from Mayo, that beautiful great footballing legend of a county … I love my motorbike, and music, and holidays by the sea – preferably in Mayo – and home cooking … I’ve been working for myself since I was made redundant – tell you about it sometime – but if all that sounds too scary, I promise I won’t abduct you, scouts’ honour.’

‘Were you in the scouts?’ She was playing for time. She’d already felt, like a sense of fate, that from the moment he’d stopped at her table and the instant connection between them, it would lead to a long conversation they were just getting started on.

‘I was, a lifetime ago,’ he said, the ghost of something passing across his features, like a hint of regret. It made him seem all the more human and vulnerable, and it clicked with her. His face cleared as he smiled at her. ‘Your turn …’

‘Mmm, thirty next birthday, work in home insurance, love books and music, can’t really cook, drive my mother’s car … and you might see this as a heinous crime, but I’ve never been to Mayo …’ she pulled a face.

He grinned. ‘I’ll try not to hold it against you.’

Outside, they walked down the laneway and came out onto a teeming Grafton Street where they had to battle crowds of shoppers and groups of carol singers, and she’d no choice but to cling to his hand in case they we