Page 66 of The Secret Bookshop in Ireland

‘Amen,’ Oisín replied. ‘But now we have to go and get all those book sales sorted.’

Ciara felt a huge sense of relief as they went to the cash machine to take payment for the books Paul Murray had just signed. Oisín didn’t know more than she did, even though he had pretended he did. But neither of them knew who her grandfather had been and even though she would have liked to find out, it didn’t matter in the end. There was no closure, but that was life. Nobody really got that closure they craved. Ciara had never believed it existed anyway.

‘A huge success,’ Paul said as they closed the shop and tidied up. ‘What did you think of my fun little speech?’

‘Not much fun and not very little,’ Maureen muttered as she stacked a pile of Paul’s books on a shelf.

‘What did you say?’ Paul asked. ‘I didn’t quite catch that. You must learn to speak up, Maureen.’

‘She said it was brilliant,’ Ciara filled in as she put the glasses they had hired back into the boxes.

‘I knew it would be a hit,’ Paul said, beaming.

‘Why didn’t you sing?’ Ronan asked, coming back through the door after seeing Elaine and Aino off.

‘My voice isn’t what it was,’ Paul explained. ‘So I thought I’d just talk about my fabulous career instead. I knew everyone would find it fascinating.’

‘We sold over eighty copies of your memoir,’ Ciara said. ‘And a lot of other books as well. Especially crime and thrillers. A great start, I have to say.’

‘I knew my launch would bring a lot of people to your little shop,’ Paul said, looking pleased. ‘My hand is sore from signing so many books.’

‘Maybe you could sign a few more?’ Maureen suggested. ‘Then we can put “signed by the author” stickers on them.’

‘Good idea,’ Paul said, massaging his right hand. ‘But I’ll need to rest a little first.’

‘I have supper ready upstairs,’ Maureen said. ‘Just cold salmon and salads that we can eat outside at the table we put up under the big oak. Oisín, you must come too. You’re welcome to join us, Paul.’

‘Thank you, darling,’ Paul chortled, holding up a bottle of champagne. ‘And look what I found. An unopened bottle of bubbly. It’ll go well with the salmon.’

‘We’ll all be on our ear,’ Maureen protested.

‘And why not?’ Paul asked, unperturbed. ‘Isn’t it a good way to celebrate my new career as a writer?’

‘New career?’ Maureen asked, turning from the books. ‘You mean you’ll write another memoir?’

‘No, no, dear girl,’ Paul said, beaming at her. ‘I’m going to write cosy mysteries set in this village. A bit likeMidsomer Murders, if you know what I mean.’

‘I think that champagne has already gone to your head,’ Maureen said. ‘Midsomer Murders, indeed. Set in this remote village. What else will you dream up?’

‘I don’t know,’ Paul said. ‘But I’ll think about it.’

Ciara laughed softly as Ronan helped her tidy away the last of the glasses. ‘Those two are so funny. Ma is having a ball bickering with Paul. I hope he won’t be offended.’

‘He’s loving it,’ Ronan said. ‘I don’t think he ever met a woman who took him down to earth like that.’

‘That’s probably very true.’ Ciara put the last glass into the box. ‘There. We’ll use our own glasses for the champagne Paul found. So let’s go upstairs to help bring everything into the garden.’

Once everything had been brought to the table, they all sat down and enjoyed the meal while the sun slowly dipped behind the cherry trees in the distance. Ciara shivered slightlyin the cool breeze and Ronan gently put his jacket around her shoulders. ‘There,’ he whispered, placing a light kiss on the top of her head. ‘Now you won’t be cold.’

‘Thank you,’ Ciara whispered back.

‘I feel romance in the air,’ Paul said, smiling at them. ‘So when’s the wedding?’

‘None of our business,’ Maureen chided. ‘Let them make their own plans. They might not want to be married at all. I’m just happy they’re together at last.’

Ronan shot a look at Ciara. ‘How about it, Ciara? Will we make our mothers happy and get married?’

‘Are you proposing?’ Ciara asked.