At 10.45am they walked the short distance across the tarmac at Shannon airport and stepped on board Marine One.
Joe, always attentive to his wife, was extra solicitous this morning. For the past couple of years he was conscious of the weakness in Jill's left wrist but he knew it had been causing a little more trouble for her lately. This morning it was extra tender and he was relieved when Jill assured him it was not as a result of anything he had done.
Her words to him when settling on board AF1 in Paris a few hours ago came back to him now.
When he'd asked her about it she tucked her right hand into the crook of his elbow and laid her head on his shoulder. 'It's fine. I jarred it this morning, that's all', she said.
Seeing that he wasn't fully convinced and possessing the ability to read his mind she continued.
'Trust me, it didn't happen last night. It's nothing you did, Joe. I promise it's not your fault', she said earnestly, knowing that her husband would be devastated if he thought he'd caused her any pain.
She raised her sore hand, trussed up in the heavy black support she wore when required and ran her fingers through his hair, settling it back in place where the wind had caught it as they'd boarded in the predawn darkness.
'And even if it did happen last night, it would have been as much my own fault as yours, I was a very willing participant. But I would have told you if I wasn't comfortable, honey', she finished peering up at him from under her eyelashes, her gaze hooded, laden with the knowledge of the evening they had shared.
Finally accepting her assurances he gently took her hand and kissed her knuckles and fingers and then pressed his lips softly against her sore wrist. 'I love you, Jilly. And last night was amazing. This whole trip had been ... I dunno, something else', he said, feeling a little emotional at the spectrum of experiences they'd shared over the past few days.
'And it's not over yet', she reminded him, snuggling even closer as he wrapped his arms around her. 'I simply cannot wait to get back to the cottage and put on my jeans and that wool sweater and cook us dinner in our cozy little kitchen', she announced, stretching her limbs like a lazy cat.
She looked back up at him. 'It's funny, but I can see us there in another life. I can imagine us living happily in that house, there's something very special about it', she mused, laying her hand on his thigh.
'I'd like it if we could come back again, maybe in a few years' time. Spend a few weeks in the cottage, a month maybe and renew acquaintances, eat in the cafe and have drinks in the pub, go for long walks on the cliff and visit the castle and the other old monuments around. I bet there's a huge amount of history to discover, and meandering trails to follow', she said, her voice animated at the prospect.
'I think it's a place of healing. I feel, I dunno, a sense of spirituality there, maybe peace is a better word. I guess it's partly to do with the good deeds that we know happened there, maybe kindness has suffused the walls', she stated and he smiled at her enthusiasm.
'I'd really love that, too. And you're right, we're not finished there yet, we have a job of work ahead of us these next few days', he reminded her and she grinned.
'Speaking of which, pass me that, please?' she asked, indicating the spring issue of the country life magazine she had picked up at some point over the past few days.
'Now, if you'll excuse me', she said, accepting it from him, 'I have an event to plan', she announced, catching his arm and turning herself round to lean against him, laying her back against his chest and settling his hand on her tummy. 'And you've got some thinking to do, Mr. President', she reminded him, referring to the update they'd received early this morning.
