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that she’d planted a couple of years ago. Beautiful shades of violets and purples gave her garden a mountainy hue that reminded her a little of Wicklow, where she’d been born and bred. It had taken her weeks to clear and prepare it. Oliver had told her that he’d do it for her, but he hadn’t a clue about gardening. Green-fingered he certainly wasn’t, whatever his other attributes, she thought fondly. He was a good son to her. Quiet, reserved, traits inherited from his father. But he’d always driven her where she wanted to go and kept the home spick and span both inside and out. Every spring the outhouses and walls of the house were whitewashed, and the windows painted the lovely cerulean blue she loved. He’d painted them this year before he’d moved into his own house.
    Tears welled up again. Oliver moving out had been the worst thing that had happened to her since her husband had died. At least when Liam had died, she’d had Oliver to lean on and help soften the loneliness. Now she had no one. That Noreen one had made sure of that. Cora felt a surge of anger and bitterness. Oliver had turned his back on her. He’d made his bed and he could lie on it with that bony bitch and she’d be changing her will on Monday morning to make sure that Noreen Lynch never got a penny out of Cora’s estate. If Oliver didn’t like it, he could lump it. With a determined set to her jaw, Cora went back to her bedroom and took out the big brown envelope from under the clean towels and sheets in the big sandalwood chest at the foot of her bed. She went back to the kitchen table and spread her papers out carefully, papers that included the deeds to the house. Things were going to change, and Noreen Lynch could take the blame for it.

4
    Noreen Flynn felt a deep sense of satisfaction as she surveyed her guests from the top of the table. Her wedding was everything she had dreamed of. Well apart from Oliver digging his heels in over wearing a top hat, she thought ruefully, remembering the rows. It would have looked so distinguished on him too. Both her sisters’ husbands had worn top hat and tails at their weddings. But she hadn’t been able to persuade him, no matter how much she’d gone on at him. Once Oliver made his mind up about something she could forget about trying to change it. He was as stubborn as a mule. She turned to look at her new husband and saw him gazing off into space.
    Oliver had an interior life that hard as she tried she couldn’t share. He withheld part of himself from her and it drove her mad sometimes. She wanted to know what was in his head, she wanted to know what he truly felt for her but the more she pushed, the less she got. ‘A penny for your thoughts,’ she’d often said, early on in their relationship.
    â€˜Not worth a penny,’ he’d say in his offhand way and that would be that. If he was in one of his quiet moods she might not get more than two words out of him. It could be extremely frustrating sometimes. He was an enigma to her. So self-sufficient in his own quiet way. He certainly didn’t need her as much as she needed him. But that would change once he’d settled into married life with her, she comforted herself. She’d change him, make him more open and relaxed. He’d stop working so hard as well and they’d be able to do more things together, even spend more time in bed together, she thought in happy anticipation of some wild passionate lovemaking on their honeymoon. Oliver was good in bed.
    He was drop dead gorgeous too, Noreen thought with quiet pleasure. He was the sexiest man she’d ever met and he didn’t even know it. Tall, six foot, and lean and rangy, he had the most beautiful body that she could wish for, fit, hard and healthy from all the physical labour. She could never get enough of him. But it was his eyes that had really got to her. As blue as sapphires, he had a direct way of