Page 4 of The Secret Bookshop in Ireland

He didn’t seem to notice her, so Ciara cleared her throat, which made him peer around the screen, looking startled when he spotted her. ‘Oh,’ he said, chewing furiously. ‘I didn’t see you there. Sorry. Just a minute.’ He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and then pushed the screen to the side. ‘A large bite of BLT,’ he explained. ‘You know, one of those enormous sandwiches they make at Carluccio’s next door. Please take a seat. I’ll just finish this. Too good to throw away.’

‘I’m sure,’ Ciara said, sitting down on the chair opposite him while her stomach rumbled at the thought of a large BLT. She met his gaze and discovered that he had dark blond wavy hair, hazel eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses, and he was dressed in a white button-down shirt, with a red-and-blue checkered silk tie with that ‘preppie’ look that spoke of a well-off background.Possibly a Trinity College graduate, she thought.From some posh southside suburb.

‘So,’ he said when he had wiped his fingers and picked up a stack of documents. ‘Ciara Doyle…’

‘That’s me,’ she said and handed him her driving licence.

‘Of course. And I’m Ronan Burke,’ he said, after a quick glance at her licence.

‘So I gathered,’ she said, trying to keep a straight face.

He suddenly smiled as he handed her back her licence, showing even teeth and a dimple in his cheek. ‘Of course. Sorry if I seem a little absentminded. Okay, so let’s get down to business. Martha Fitzgerald named you as her sole heir. She has left you a property and a sum of money. The property in question is located in Cherrywood, which is a little village near Enniskerry in County Wicklow.’ He drew breath and looked at her over therim of his glasses as her jaw nearly dropped with shock. ‘It took me a while to find you, as there didn’t seem to be any family connection. I didn’t know Martha personally; it was one of the solicitors here who drew up the will a few years ago.’

‘Oh,’ Ciara said, trying to process the information. A property? Money? ‘Can I talk to him, then?’

‘No,’ Ronan said. ‘That’s not possible, I’m afraid.’

‘Why not?’ Ciara asked. ‘Where is he?’

‘Glasnevin Cemetery,’ Ronan said. ‘He died shortly after Martha. He had been her solicitor for most of her adult life.’

‘What a pity,’ Ciara said. ‘I’m sure he would have known why she made me her heir.’

‘All I know is that she said something about your grandmother when she made her will. And I also know that she had no children or family who had any legal right to her estate. So the will is valid and nobody will contest it.’

‘That’s good, I suppose,’ Ciara said. ‘So what’s the property and how much money have I inherited from this mystery woman, then?’

‘I believe it’s a house with some kind of shop or business attached,’ Ronan said. ‘All I have is the Eircode and the keys to the house. You will have to go to Cherrywood and see for yourself. The money will be lodged into your account as soon as you give us your bank details.’

‘How do I get to this place – Cherrywood?’ Ciara asked.

‘If you have a car, you’ll just drive down the M50 and then take exit number fifteen and then up to the Enniskerry road and?—’

‘I don’t have a car,’ Ciara interrupted.

‘But you have a driving licence?’

‘Yes,’ Ciara replied. ‘But I’m not a great driver, really.’

‘Well, if you’re going to live in Cherrywood, I suggest you brush up on your driving skills,’ Ronan suggested. ‘And then buy a car.’

‘Who says I’m going to live there?’ Ciara asked. ‘I mean, I could sell the house or whatever it is. Or let it or something,’ she ended vaguely.

‘You could,’ Ronan agreed. ‘But I don’t think you’d get much for it. I don’t think anyone has lived there since Martha Fitzgerald died. Maybe you could take a look at the place first? Rent a car and go up there. It’s easy enough to find, if you know Wicklow.’

Ciara bristled at his slightly superior tone. ‘I don’t, actually. I’m more of a northsider, you see.’

‘Northsider?’ Ronan asked. ‘Is that even a word?’

‘It is if you live there,’ Ciara retorted. ‘But I bet you’re from some southern suburb like Foxrock or Dalkey and you wouldn’t want to be seen dead north of the Liffey.’

‘I’m from Blackrock, actually,’ Ronan replied stiffly.

‘Lovely place,’ Ciara said.

‘You’ve been there?’ he asked, looking surprised.

‘Yes, I have. I sometimes take the Dart from Howth to Bray. It’s a wonderful way to see everything all around Dublin Bay.’