Page 15 of The Secret Bookshop in Ireland

‘Just a glass or two,’ Maureen cut in. ‘And no spirits.’

Liz let out a laugh. ‘Don’t worry, we’re pretty sober ourselves. We make our own wine but it’s an acquired taste, Oisín says. So feel free to spit it out if you think it’s more like rat poison.’

‘I’m sure it’s delicious,’ Maureen said.

‘We’ll see.’ Liz gave Brian another pat on the head and moved away. ‘See you guys tonight, then. Bye for now.’ With that, she skipped down the street, her multicoloured hair flying in the wind.

Maureen stared after her. ‘What a strange creature. Like a wood nymph or something.’

‘That’s a good description,’ Ciara said. ‘She’s somehow ethereal.’

‘I forgot to ask her if she had seen anyone going into the shop,’ Maureen said.

‘We can ask her tonight,’ Ciara suggested.

‘Of course,’ Maureen said. ‘Gosh, that was sudden. I didn’t expect to be invited to dinner quite so soon. Or at all, really. But now, let’s roll up our sleeves and start the unpacking.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Ciara joked and made a mock salute. Then she followed her mother upstairs to put the mattresses on the beds and settle in for these two weeks. She noticed that curtain in the window across the street twitching again and felt that someone was watching them. In fact, she had a feeling the whole village was watching them. Then she suddenly remembered how she had spoken to Ronan and began to regret snapping at him. But she couldn’t take it back. In any case, she’d plan what to do with the property, and soon be back home. She would probably never see Ronan again.

EIGHT

Ronan frowned, staring at the phone after hanging up. Ciara Doyle had been quite snappy and ended the call abruptly. But then he had been a little short with her as well, which he regretted. She was the most unusual girl he had ever met. Ever since she had walked into his office, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. With her raven hair and sparkling cornflower-blue eyes, her colourful clothes and that radiant smile, she had ignited a spark in him he had thought was dead. He hadn’t dared to hope he’d have any kind of relationship with a woman after the break-up with Angela all those years ago.

Since then, he had buried himself in work and shied away from socialising, spending the evenings with his mother, who now needed a lot of care. It was a miserable existence for a young man in his early thirties, but he had become used to it.

And then, when he had been working on the Martha Fitzgerald case and found the prospective heir, he had expected a much older woman. But then there she was: Ciara Doyle, marching into his office like a whirlwind, shining a light into his dreary existence. He had felt embarrassed about eating his sandwich in front of her when he realised that she hadn’t had her lunch. Then they had had that moment in the restaurant,the little repartee about the northside of Dublin, versus the southside and it had made him smile all day afterwards. She had made him step out of his comfort zone and it had felt so good. But he knew she had a boyfriend called Brian, which meant she wasn’t available, even had he wanted to see her again. He was out of practice and felt he wouldn’t have known how to approach her anyway.

Then he had organised the cleaning of the flat above the old bookshop so that she would have a nice place to stay should she want to go up to that remote part of Wicklow and inspect her inheritance. Ciara had been very grateful and he felt that it was a point in his favour.

But this latest phone call had been odd, Ronan felt. Why had someone cleaned up the bookshop and put all the old books in order like that? He hadn’t been in the shop since Martha’s death, and then only once just to look at the place in case there would be an executor’s sale, which would happen if they didn’t find the heir.

He had been startled to hear Ciara’s voice on the phone just now and he hadn’t known quite what to say. His shyness and confusion had caused him to snap at her, which she must have thought stand-offish.

Oh, Lord, he thought and wiped his forehead,why do I feel like this about a woman I’ve only met once? Get a grip, boy, and get back to work.Ronan mentally shook himself and picked up the document he had been looking at when the phone rang. But it was no use, he couldn’t concentrate. What could he do about this little ache in his heart? There wasn’t much he could do, except try to forget her, even if that would take a long time.

NINE

That evening, Ciara and her mother walked along the lane that would take them up the hill to O’Toole’s Castle, Brian trotting behind them. ‘It’s a Norman tower that would have been built in the twelfth century,’ Maureen said. ‘I read about it in a history book recently. Your father was very interested in that period. There are so many of these Norman towers all over Ireland. Most of the farms had them in those days. Fortified farms, they were called. They were there so they could shut themselves in if there was any danger. And they would send smoke signals to the other towers if enemies approached to warn their neighbours.’

‘I don’t think I’d like to have lived then,’ Ciara said with a little shiver. ‘Imagine having to be on the lookout for marauding gangs and robbers all the time and then having to lock yourself in to stay safe.’

‘Isn’t that what we do now?’ Maureen asked with a wry smile.

‘I suppose,’ Ciara said glumly. ‘But with more technology. In any case, people in the Middle Ages didn’t have a very comfortable life.’

‘And they didn’t live long,’ Maureen filled in. ‘I’d have been dead by now.’

‘Horrible thought,’ Ciara said and put her arm through her mother’s. ‘I’m glad you’re alive and here with me.’

‘So am I, pet,’ Maureen said and squeezed her daughter’s hand for a moment.

Ciara breathed in the soft air, laced with the scent of pine trees, wild garlic and damp earth as they walked through the woods. Birdsong filled the air and there was the odd squawk above them from a raven. The evening sun glinted between the trees and they could hear the trickle of water from a stream nearby. ‘It’s such an enchanted place,’ she said. ‘It feels like stepping into some kind of fairy tale.’

‘It’s very special,’ Maureen agreed. ‘And now I can smell meat roasting over some kind of open fire.’

‘Delicious,’ Ciara said, feeling her stomach rumbling as they approached the tall, square tower that suddenly rose before them as they rounded a bend. ‘Look. Isn’t it amazing?’

Maureen glanced up and then stopped walking for a moment. ‘It’s so intact,’ she said. ‘I thought it would be partly in ruins. But it’s very well preserved. Must be one of the few inhabited tower houses in the country.’