Page 45 of The Secret Bookshop in Ireland

‘Did you?’ Oisín asked, looking intrigued.

‘My uncle on my mother’s side was a bit of a rascal,’ Ciara replied, wondering how she could get Oisín to reveal all about the rebel uncle. ‘He got into trouble with the law when he stole a bicycle outside the pub one evening. And then he was a devil with the women, I’ve heard.’

Oisín smiled and nodded. ‘Sounds familiar. But I bet my great-uncle was worse than yours.’

‘I bet he wasn’t,’ Ciara said, picking up her glass of wine. This was working. A great opportunity to find out what she had a feeling could lead to some of the old history of the village. She also felt that there was something about the story of Jarlath O’Toole that might have to do with Martha and Madge. She had told a fib about having a black sheep in the family and hoped her uncle would never find out. Sean O’Brien, her mother’s brother, taught history at Trinity College and was very respectable, not at all the rascal Ciara had depicted. But if this lie about her uncle could make Oisín reveal some family secrets, it was worth it.

‘I’d say my great-uncle would win that contest,’ Oisín said.

‘Tell me what he did, and we’ll see who was the worst,’ Ciara said, hoping Oisín would take the bait. She knew roughly about Jarlath’s misdemeanours but she wanted to get all the details.

‘He got a local girl pregnant, who had to leave the village. Nobody knew what happened to her after that. And then he broke into a house and stole all the jewellery belonging to an old woman and then he went abroad, leaving his wife to cope with the scandal that ensued. Poor woman. She had to leave the house where she had grown up as she had signed it over toher husband when they were married. Her family didn’t want anything to do with her, so she had to change her name and to go to Dublin and work as a maid.’ Oisín drew breath and looked triumphantly at Ciara. ‘I’d say that beats any misdemeanours your uncle might have been guilty of.’

‘Yes, I think your great-uncle won this particular contest.’ Ciara’s hand shook as she picked up her last crab claw. A thought had just hit her and she was trying not to show how it affected her.He got a local girl pregnant, she thought.Was that… could it be – no, that’s not possible. Or…

TWENTY-TWO

Ciara’s head swam as she sorted out the facts she had just heard.Was that girl Madge – my grandmother? Then Great-Uncle Jarlath could have been my grandfather, which makes Oisín and Liz my – second cousins?That possibility made her feel faint. She suddenly remembered that Liz had said that her great-uncle Jarlath had left for England in 1945 and let out a sigh of relief. That didn’t match Madge’s story. ‘When did this happen?’ she asked just to be sure.

‘In nineteen forty-five, I think,’ Oisín said.

‘I see,’ Ciara said, reassured. Madge had given birth to her baby in 1942, so that didn’t add up. But then Ciara felt desperately sorry for the poor young girl, just out of her teens. How terrible it must have been for her to be abandoned like that – pregnant and unmarried.

‘He left like a thief in the night,’ Oisín said, echoing Ciara’s thoughts. ‘Of course that’s exactly what he was – a thief.’

‘The poor girl,’ Ciara whispered.

Oisín nodded as he picked up his last crab claw and popped it into his mouth. ‘Yes, his wife had a rough time, losing the house and being disowned by her family.’

‘I meant that girl he got pregnant,’ Ciara said.

‘Oh her too. But hey, if she slept with a married man, what did she expect?’

‘So it was her fault and all the misery she might have suffered served her right?’ Ciara asked hotly, glaring at Oisín. ‘He was married and should have known better. Why do men never have to pay for their misbehaviour?’

‘I suppose it takes two to tango,’ Oisín remarked. ‘But didn’t he get what he deserved in the end, then?’

‘Maybe,’ Ciara mumbled, still seething at Oisín’s attitude towards the girl his uncle had made pregnant – even if that girl had not been Madge.

‘I’m not proud of being related to Jarlath, I have to say,’ Oisín remarked. ‘In any case, the house they lived in was beautiful. It’s now in ruins sadly, but the grounds are lovely. Very inspirational for painting, with the old stones overgrown with all kinds of plants and flowers.’ Oisín studied Ciara for a moment. ‘You’re suddenly very pale. Are you cold? We could ask for a table inside if you want.’

Ciara drained her glass of wine, which made her feel better. ‘No, I’m fine. Just feeling tired after a busy day. Your story was a little upsetting too. I’m just imagining what it would have been like for that girl who got pregnant and then the wife who was left behind to deal with the shame of it.’

‘A bit unfair to both of them,’ Oisín agreed. ‘I wonder sometimes what happened to the child that girl had. He or she would have been my father’s cousin.’

‘What happened to the mother – the young girl, I mean?’ Ciara asked, her stomach churning with nerves.

‘I don’t know,’ Oisín replied with a shrug. ‘Very few people, except the family, knew who she was. I suspect she ended up in one of those homes for unmarried mothers and then perhaps she had to give the baby away, if it survived.’

‘How awful,’ Ciara said. ‘And of course the father of the child didn’t care what happened to her.’

‘Probably not,’ Oisín replied with a shrug. ‘Uncle Jarlath wasn’t known for his kind heart.’

Ciara wiped her mouth with her napkin. ‘What a gobshite,’ she said with feeling.

‘Yeah, I suppose,’ Oisín said. ‘But nothing to do with us, right? After all, it happened so long ago.’

‘Of course,’ Ciara said, still upset by the way Oisín had somehow blamed the girl and seemed to have implied she was some kind of a tart. But she decided to let it go and see what Oisín knew about Martha, Madge, the village and the bookshop. Had he meant to mention what his uncle did to test her? Or was it just a coincidence? She suddenly felt he wasn’t to be trusted, which was disappointing, but it told her to be on her guard. ‘What happened in the past should stay in the past,’ she said in order to get back on an even keel.