Page 60 of The Secret Bookshop in Ireland

‘No. Probably not,’ Ciara said with a sad little sigh. ‘But now we have to concentrate on getting Brian back. I have a feeling Liz might think I’ve been neglecting Brian. She looks so fragile, but I’d say she has a will of iron. Those kinds of girls often do.’

‘I thought she was sweet,’ Maureen said. ‘Maybe a little airy-fairy but not in any way calculating or shifty.’

‘Or the kind who would take someone’s dog?’ Ciara asked. ‘Just because she wanted to help out in some weird way, I mean.’

‘No. But you never know. Still waters and all that,’ Maureen commented. ‘You know,’ she continued, ‘I was more in favour of Oisín earlier. But now that I’ve met Ronan and seen what a kind and caring person he is, I realise how wrong I was. I was a little blinded by Oisín’s good looks and charm and his free spirit, I have to admit.’

‘And that he was an O’Toole with a castle and all?’ Ciara teased.

‘That too,’ Maureen admitted. ‘It seemed so romantic. But I was wrong. Ronan is more your type.’

‘Hmm, yes. Pity he’s not available. But now we have to find Brian. Never mind about anything else.’ Ciara changed gears as they drove up the last steep slope towards the tower. Then she pulled up and turned off the engine. ‘I think we should stop here and walk the rest of the way.’

They got out of the car and started to walk up the rest of the way. The clouds obscured the evening sunshine and the wind had dropped. There was an eerie silence here, apart from the occasional twitter from a bird. The air smelled of grass mingled with woodsmoke and pine from the tall trees rising above them. Ciara noticed that her mother had slowed down and was talking to someone on her phone.

Then Maureen pushed the phone into the pocket of her jacket and caught up with Ciara. ‘Let’s see if Brian can hear us,’ she said. ‘Do that special whistle you use sometimes.’

‘Okay.’ Ciara let out a shrill whistle and then called Brian’s name a few times without any result.

‘Maybe he’s not here,’ Maureen said as they walked to the door of the tower. ‘In fact, the place seems deserted.’

Ciara climbed the steps to the massive entrance door of the tower and banged on it with her fists. ‘Liz, have you seen Brian?’ she shouted. There was no answer and she stood there feeling hopeless and desperate. ‘Where is he?’ she moaned. ‘Where is my darling dog?’

‘I think I was wrong,’ Maureen said, looking around her nervously. ‘He’s not with Liz. Let’s go back. The wind is getting worse.’

‘But we have to look around, though,’ Ciara protested and ran down the steps and around to the back to the tower, calling and whistling until she stopped at the bottom of the little hill beside the shed that housed Oisín’s studio. ‘Maybe he’s in here,’ she said and wrenched the door open. She stepped inside and looked around but there was no sign of either Brian or Oisín.

‘He was here,’ Maureen said as she walked into the studio.

‘What? Where?’ Ciara twirled around.

‘There. Look,’ Maureen whispered, pointing at the painting on the easel in the middle of the room.

‘Oh.’ Ciara suddenly noticed the painting. It was not finished but she could see the outline of an Irish wolfhound sitting on the top of a hill. ‘It’s Brian,’ she said, staring at the painting. ‘But it looks like it was painted some time ago.’

‘From this,’ Maureen said, holding up a photo she had just found on a nearby table. ‘Oisín must have taken it when we were here that first time.’

Ciara peered at the photo of Brian. ‘Yes. The sky is blue and the sun is shining, just like that day when we came for dinner.’ She heaved a deep sigh. ‘Brian isn’t here. But where is he? Where is my beautiful dog?’ She sank down on a rickety stool and started to cry. ‘Maybe he’s dead?’ she sobbed. ‘I’ll never see him again. Oh, Ma, what am I going to do without him?’

Everything seemed hopeless. The challenge of doing up the bookshop and the fun it might have been disappeared in a sea of despair. Her dog was gone – maybe dead, and the man she had begun to feel so close to was getting back with his ex-girlfriend. There was no longer any joy in Ciara’s life. She might as well give up and go back to her dreary job. ‘It’s over,’ she said, looking at Maureen with a feeling of hopelessness.

‘What’s over?’ Maureen asked.

‘My life,’ Ciara said. ‘I mean, all the things I was looking forward to.’

‘I think it has only just begun,’ Maureen said with a steely look in her eyes. ‘Because we arenotgiving up, Ciara.’

TWENTY-NINE

Ronan looked at Angela across the table of the small pub and wondered if they were still the same people as when they had broken up eight years ago. He was still trying to take in the conversation with Elaine. It had been a huge surprise to hear her telling him off for feeling guilty all this time. And now she wanted to get a full-time carer, and urged him to forget about any obligation to her. ‘Go out with your friends,’ she had said. ‘Have a bit of fun. You’ve been stuck with me long enough.’ He had protested that he didn’t mind looking after her, but she had insisted that from now on, he was free. ‘You might even want to move out,’ she had suggested. ‘Get your own place nearby.’ When he had asked her what had brought this on, she said she had been thinking about it ever since she had that chat with Maureen. ‘I’ve been a little selfish,’ she admitted. ‘I should have tried to make you move out years ago. I hope you can forgive me.’ Her contrition had been genuine, and the feeling of freedom had been strange and wonderful at the same time.

After their conversation, he had called Ciara to tell her what Elaine had said. Then he had told her he’d get in touch with Angela in order to close that chapter so he could move on. But they had been cut off mid-sentence. Frustrated, he had tried tocall Ciara back, but the signal must have been too weak. He hung up thinking he’d speak to her next time they met, which he hoped would be very soon.

And now, here he was with Angela having a drink in a pub near his home. Dressed in a green silk shirt and matching scarf that went so well with her colouring, she looked back at him with her pale eyes and patted her perfectly styled hair. Then she picked up her glass of white wine and shot him a charming smile. ‘Cheers,’ she said. ‘It’s nice to see you again after all this time.’

Ronan lifted his pint of Guinness and tried to figure out what it was about her he found suddenly so off-putting. ‘Cheers, Angela,’ he said, returning her smile. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch for so long. But it was a bit difficult under the circumstances.’

‘I know. I heard from your sister what was going on,’ Angela replied. ‘We’ve been in touch a lot during the years since the accident.’