Page 12 of The Secret Bookshop in Ireland

‘We’ll be there soon,’ Ciara promised and restarted the car. ‘Please don’t distract me again or we’ll go off the road.’

‘I won’t,’ Maureen replied, staring straight ahead.

They were silent as they continued around a sharp bend and down a steep slope, then another bend. Then the road widened and they could see the first houses in the distance and the spire of the two churches sticking up at the end of the main street. ‘Protestant and Catholic,’ Ciara explained. ‘Opposite each other. I think that Georgian house was the vicarage.’

As they drove down the main street, Ciara said, ‘Here we are. The house is in the middle of this row of buildings.’

Maureen looked around as they slowly made their way down the street. ‘It’s a little rundown,’ she remarked. ‘Most of these houses need a good lick of paint.’

‘And new roofs and windows, too,’ Ciara said. ‘I have a feeling this village was quite busy once. There are some old shops and even a pub, all closed down, sadly.’

‘It doesn’t have the infrastructure it needs to thrive,’ Maureen said. ‘I’d say the county council gave up on it years ago. How sad.’

‘Very sad,’ Ciara agreed as she pulled up in front of the house. ‘Here we are. My splendid inheritance.’

Maureen looked at the façade of the house with its peeling paint and cracked window frames without speaking. ‘Well, it’s not much to look at now, but if it gets a little love and attention it might improve,’ she said.

‘And a large amount of money,’ Ciara filled in.

‘Yes, I suppose,’ Maureen said as she started to get out of the van. ‘Let’s have look at it.’

‘The inside is better than the outside,’ Ciara said, joining her mother on the pavement. She opened the passenger door. ‘Outyou come, Brian. You need to stretch your legs after the long drive.’

Brian scrambled out of the van and stood at the entrance door to the shop, pressing his nose against it, growling softly.

‘What’s the matter with him?’ Maureen asked. ‘I thought you said he liked the place.’

‘He did,’ Ciara said, puzzled by the dog’s behaviour. ‘But now he seems worried.’

‘Open the door and we’ll see what he’ll do,’ Maureen suggested.

Ciara found the keys and unlocked the door. ‘This is the way into the shop,’ she said. ‘There is a door at the back of the shop that leads to a lobby and the stairs to the flat.’

‘Okay,’ Maureen said and led the way inside. ‘Is there electricity?’ she asked over her shoulder.

‘Yes,’ Ciara replied. ‘The account was already set up when I took possession. Flick the switch on the wall and we’ll have light.’

‘I can’t find it,’ Maureen muttered. ‘Oh,’ she said a moment later. ‘Here it is.’ There was a click and then the little shop was lit by the weak bulb in the ceiling.

Ciara followed her mother inside, pulling at Brian to follow. But he hung back, whining. Then she saw the inside of the shop and gasped.

‘What’s wrong?’ Maureen asked.

‘The books,’ Ciara whispered. ‘They’re not the way they were when I left.’

SEVEN

‘In what way?’ Maureen asked, looking around at the shelves where the books were organised in neat rows. ‘They look all right to me.’

‘Yes, but they’ve been tidied up,’ Ciara said. ‘The last time I was here, these books were in such a disorder that I didn’t know what I was going to do with them. They were lying on the floor or in heaps on the shelves, and they were all musty and dirty. But look at them now, all cleaned up and stacked on the shelves.’

‘In alphabetical order,’ Maureen said and peered at one of the rows. ‘But not in the right genres, I have to say. Austen and Enid Blyton and then Dickens and C.S. Lewis… Is someone having a joke?’

‘I have no idea,’ Ciara said, slightly irritated at her mother’s nit-picking. ‘But what difference does it make anyway? We can organise them later.’

‘Or throw them out,’ Maureen suggested.

‘No, Ma,’ Ciara argued, appalled by the idea of getting rid of the old books. ‘I wouldn’t throw them out. There might be some valuable books there. First editions and such. They all seem very old, don’t they? Most of them leatherbound.’