Page 55 of The Secret Bookshop in Ireland

‘Of our little club, of course,’ Nuala said. ‘Oh, don’t bother getting up. I can see that nice young man coming towards us with tea and sandwiches for us both,’ she said as Paul Murray arrived with a small tray with two cups and a plate with sandwiches and scones that he put on the side table.

‘I thought I’d spare you the trouble of getting tea and food,’ he said. ‘Those women are like locusts at the buffet. There’s nothing much left.’

‘Olivia always does a good afternoon tea,’ Nuala said. ‘Even if the house needs a good airing, and about fifty thousand spent on renovations. You can go now,’ she continued with a flick of her hand at Paul. ‘I’m going to have a confidential chat with young Ciara here.’

‘I see,’ Paul said. ‘Okay. I know when I’m not wanted.’ He walked away, his shoulders slumped, the picture of hurt pride, but then he shot Ciara a smile and a wink over his shoulder as he went. She smiled back, thinking he was actually quite nice behind the grumpy surface.

‘He’s just pretending,’ Nuala said. ‘He knows I wanted to talk to you in private.’

‘I could tell he wasn’t offended.’ Ciara handed Nuala a cup of tea and a plate with a cucumber sandwich and a small paper napkin.

‘Thank you, dear,’ Nuala said and sipped her tea. ‘Oh that’s lovely. Nothing like a cup of tea to cheer you up, is there?’

‘Absolutely,’ Ciara agreed and took the remaining cup from the tray. She helped herself to a cucumber sandwich and took a little nibble. ‘So what was it you wanted to tell me, Mrs O’Dwyer?’

‘Oh, please, call me Nuala,’ she said. ‘Nobody calls me Mrs O’Dwyer.’ She paused for a moment, taking another sip of tea. Then she looked at Ciara with a serious expression. ‘I wasn’t Mrs O’Dywer for more than a few years. And Nuala is the name my parents gave me. But for many years, I was in a convent under another name.’

‘What name was that?’ Ciara asked, feeling she was being drip-fed information. But it suddenly dawned on her what the old lady was hinting at. ‘Sister Assumpta?’ she asked in a near whisper.

‘Yes,’ Nuala replied. ‘That was my name at the convent.’

TWENTY-SEVEN

Ciara’s hand shook so much she had to put her cup back on the tray. ‘You were… you are…?’ She found it hard the get the words out.

Nuala nodded, holding her own cup with both hands. ‘Yes. I’m the nun who helped your grandmother when she gave birth to your father.’

‘Oh but…’ Ciara stammered.

‘I left the convent ten years later. I felt my faith wasn’t strong enough to remain there. And then I met John and fell in love. We took over my parents’ house in Cherrywood and lived there together until his death twenty years ago. I still live in the same house.’

‘Where is it?’ Ciara asked.

‘Opposite yours,’ Nuala said. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been spying on you.’

Ciara smiled. ‘I’ve seen the curtain move there, so I did have the feeling we were being watched.’ She paused for a moment. ‘So you were there when my father was born?’

Nuala nodded. ‘I was. Such a beautiful, strong baby. Madge only got to hold him for a moment and then he was taken away to be adopted. She cried and cried, the poorcraythur.’ Nualasighed. ‘I was so sorry that she had to give her little baby away like that. But it was the only thing to do in those days. Our convent was small and we didn’t usually look after unmarried mothers, but we made an exception for Madge. She had been head girl and top student at the school and was much liked by all the sisters. In fact, we thought at one stage she might join the order, but she changed her mind. I think a life in poverty and seclusion wasn’t for her.’

‘Did Martha tell you what happened to her sister?’ Ciara asked, feeling her tears well up. She could nearly see Madge crying as her baby was taken away.

‘She did indeed,’ Nuala said. ‘I liked Madge very much. She was like a younger sister to me. So when I heard she had died in Australia, I was so sad.’

Ciara blinked her tears away and reached for her cup, feeling the need for a soothing drink. ‘So was I, even though I had never met her.’

‘It’s a huge loss not to have known your grandmother,’ Nuala remarked. ‘Nor your great-aunt Martha. She was a tower of strength in the village.’

‘I’m sure you were too,’ Ciara remarked. ‘And all your group of women who grew up in Cherrywood. It must have been such a special place when the village was more alive.’

‘Yes, it was.’ Nuala sipped her tea, looking at Ciara over the rim of her cup. ‘It will come alive again,’ she said with great conviction. ‘Once all the businesses are running again.’ She leaned forward, fixing Ciara with her eyes. ‘The bookshop is only the start.’

‘The start of what?’ Ciara asked.

‘The reawakening of the village. It’s part of the plan,’ Nuala declared, looking mysterious. ‘And that’s all I’m going to say about that, so don’t ask any more questions.’

‘All right,’ Ciara said, feeling she was up against a very determined woman, despite her advanced age. ‘I won’t. But if you’ll allow me to come and visit you, I’d love to find out more about Madge and Martha and their family.’

‘That would be very nice,’ Nuala said, looking pleased. ‘I like young people.’