Page 20 of The Secret Bookshop in Ireland

‘Oh I am,’ Maureen said, looking happy. ‘But first we have to do something about that bookshop. We have to remove the shutters and get some light into it. Who knows what we might discover there?’

‘Nothing much,’ Ciara said, ‘except for a pile of old books.’

Maureen put her cup on the table with a bang. ‘That sounds defeatist to me. I think the shop has potential.’

‘For what?’ Ciara asked with a touch of irony.

‘It could be made charming,’ Maureen said and got up. ‘And irresistible for someone who would want to come here and run a little bookshop. It could actually clinch the sale. Come on, Ciara, let’s go and see if we can get the shutters off for a start. I suddenly feel an urge to get it done once and for all.’

‘Oh, okay,’ Ciara said and rose from the chair. ‘I’ll just let Brian out so he can enjoy the sunshine in the garden.’

‘He might dig it up, but what does that matter?’ Maureen said cheerfully. ‘It’s such a mess of weeds anyway.’

Ciara called Brian and let him out into the sunny garden, where he immediately rolled in the grass. She smiled as she watched him, closing the little gate and then rounding the corner of the house as a car pulled up outside the shop. Ciara stared at the man who stepped out of the car, smiling at her.

‘Hi, Ciara,’ he said. ‘I was in the neighbourhood, so I thought I’d come and see how you were doing.’

‘Ronan, eh… hi,’ Ciara stammered, feeling her cheeks turn red. She had hoped to see him again and now it was as if her thoughts had brought him here by some sort of telepathy. ‘Nice to see you,’ she said, trying to pull herself together.

‘Hello there,’ Maureen said behind Ciara, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Maureen Doyle, Ciara’s mother.’

Ronan shook Maureen’s hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Doyle. I’m Ronan Burke, the genealogist who dealt with Martha Fitzgerald’s will.’

‘Genealogist?’ Maureen asked, looking confused. ‘What’s that?’

‘I specialise in finding missing heirs mentioned in wills,’ Ronan explained. ‘A bit like a detective, really. It took me nearly a year to find Ciara, as a matter of fact. There wasn’t much to go on in Martha’s personal history, you see, like a family connection.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Maureen said, studying Ronan. ‘But you did and now we’re here. And so are you,’ she added with a little smile hovering on her lips.

Ronan looked suddenly awkward. ‘Yes, well, I was in the area, and I was curious to see what Ciara would do with the place. I tried to phone, but there was no signal.’

‘It’s hopeless up here,’ Ciara said with a frown. ‘I’m wondering if we can stay here if we can’t communicate with theoutside world. I’m sure there were landlines everywhere in the old days, but they don’t exist any more.’

‘No,’ Ronan said. ‘But I’m sure there’s a solution somewhere.’

‘I hope so.’ Ciara studied Ronan for a moment. ‘You look different,’ she said.

‘Maybe because I’m not wearing glasses?’ Ronan asked, looking a little self-conscious.

‘Oh yes, that’s it,’ Ciara exclaimed. ‘Contact lenses?’

Ronan nodded. ‘Yes. I’m trying to get used to them.’ He looked at the shop. ‘So what are your plans for this place?’

‘Well, right now, we’re planning to take the shutters off the windows of the shop,’ Maureen said. ‘And we need someone strong to help us, so you’ve come just at the right moment.’

Ronan looked relieved. ‘Of course I’ll help you,’ he said and shrugged off his denim jacket and put it in the car. Then he walked to the shutters. ‘They’re just two pieces of corrugated iron, which have been attached with nails that look very rusty.’ He grabbed one of the shutters and pulled at it, making it come off, crashing to the ground in a shower of dust and cobwebs. ‘Well, that was easy,’ he said, rubbing his hands together.

‘You should wear gloves when you do that,’ Maureen remarked.

‘I know,’ Ronan said and walked to the boot of his car and opened it. ‘I think I have some old leather gloves here. And maybe even an old walking stick that I can use to get the other shutter off.’ He found the gloves and put them on, then groped around in the boot for a while until he came across a walking stick. ‘Here we are,’ he said, waving it in the air. Then he walked to the window and managed to wrench the other shutter off with some difficulty before it too crashed on top of the first one.

‘Brilliant,’ Ciara exclaimed, looking into the old shop window. ‘Look, there are books stacked there that we didn’t notice before. Must have been just before the shop was closed.’

‘It looks like a Christmas display,’ Ronan said, peering into the window. ‘Romances and biographies and children’s books all stacked in groups, with some dried leaves that must have been holly once.’

‘There’s a book about Gay Byrne,’ Maureen said. ‘Must have been published just after he passed away.’

‘When was that?’ Ciara asked.