Page 43 of The Secret Bookshop in Ireland

‘I wouldn’t say that, exactly,’ Oisín said. ‘We’re just getting to know each other, so no need to jump to conclusions.’

‘Just friends then, eh?’ Róisín said with a cheeky grin. ‘Anyway, I’ll take you to your table out on the deck. We have blankets if you’ll find it chilly.’

‘I’m sure we won’t,’ Oisín replied. ‘It’s unusually warm for late April.’

‘It is, for sure. Okay, folks, just follow me,’ Róisín said and started to walk through the crowded restaurant. Then she went through the open door to the deck that was dotted with small tables. She showed them to a table at the railing, which was decorated with a long window box full of white and pink geraniums. The view across the Irish Sea was lovely, with Wicklow Head lighthouse rising up in the distance.

‘What a beautiful view,’ Ciara said as she sat down on the chair Oisín pulled out for her.

‘I love it,’ he said, sitting down opposite. ‘Especially on an evening like this when the weather is so good.’

‘Here you go,’ Róisín interrupted them and handed them each a menu. ‘We have crab claws as a special tonight.’

‘That’s what I was hoping,’ Oisín said, looking pleased. ‘Two of those, and then fish and chips for us both,’ he announced. ‘Unless you want something else, Ciara?’

‘No, that sounds perfect,’ Ciara replied.

‘Great,’ Róisín said. ‘What would you like to drink?’

‘I think I can risk a glass of Chablis,’ Oisín said. ‘Then I’ll go on to zero Guinness. How about you, Ciara?’

‘I’ll join you in both of those,’ Ciara said. ‘Riding pillion on a motorbike is scary enough without being drunk as well.’

‘I wouldn’t get on one of those for all the Guinness in Ireland,’ Róisín said, sticking her pen behind her ear. ‘Drunk or sober. Okay, is that all, or do you want any sides?’

‘No, we’re happy,’ Oisín said, smiling at Ciara. ‘I am, anyway.’

‘Me too,’ Ciara said, trying not to blush as Oisín’s green eyes twinkled while he looked admiringly at her. He was so annoyingly attractive, and she found it hard not to be affected by his charm. ‘I just want to tell you,’ she said, in order to change the atmosphere that was becoming a little too flirty, ‘that I have decided to open the bookshop again. I want to continue the work Martha and her mother did.’

Oisín looked suddenly pleasantly surprised. ‘What about your job?’

‘I’ve just quit,’ Ciara said with a little shiver. ‘But my mother doesn’t know yet, so please don’t tell her.’

‘You quit?’ Oisín said, looking surprised. ‘Really? And you’re going to reopen the bookshop? That’s very good news for the village.’

‘The village is a little too quiet for me to rely on for any kind of business, but we hope to attract people from other areas if we manage to get the word out,’ Ciara explained. ‘We hope to open the shop by August and then we’ll see how it goes. We’re going to have a reading corner as well and serve coffee and cakes.’

Oisín nodded. ‘I see. Well, I had hoped you’d do something like that. And…’ He paused for a moment. ‘Well, maybe you could do what Martha did and let me display some of my work on the walls that are not taken up with bookshelves.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Ciara said. ‘A great way to decorate the shop. And we’ll put price tags on them and handle any sales.’

‘We?’ Oisín asked. ‘Do you have a partner I’m not aware of?’

‘My mother,’ Ciara explained. ‘She used to do marketing and stuff for a firm in Drogheda years ago and she’ll do all the bookkeeping and all the things I’m not so good at.’

‘Brilliant,’ Oisín said, beaming. ‘I’ll help out with some publicity and get a little bit of buzz going if you like.’

‘That would be a great help,’ Ciara said. ‘Actually, we’ve been invited to tea at the vicarage in a few weeks, so I’m thinking of going to tell anyone who’s there about our plan.’

‘Tea at the vicarage?’ Oisín said, looking shocked. ‘Don’t tell me she’s back doing that again.’

‘Who?’ Ciara asked. ‘Doing what again?’

‘That woman. Olivia Wilson,’ Oisín said, his voice scathing. ‘She was married to the last vicar of Cherrywood.’

‘The last vicar?’ Ciara asked. ‘When was he working there?’

‘About thirty years ago. Nice fellow, if a little dim. A bit of a turncoat, my late father used to say. Always agreed with whoever was speaking to him. You know, like that old song, “The Vicar of Bray”.’