Ben’s jacket was propped on the ground between them. His recorder was tucked discreetly under its collar like a spy behind enemy lines. Mary sat across from him, within the square of sunlight that lit up the stable, making her freckles glow like embers. The board had been pulled across the door, if only to keep the wasp out.

‘I’m going to ask you a few questions, okay?’ Ben said softly to put her at ease. ‘I’d like to hear about your life and any stories that you would consider a part of your village. And you don’t have to answer anything that you don’t feel comfortable with. Hopefully, you might even enjoy yourself.’

Again she bowed her head. This might be easier than expected. Outside the stable, all was quiet, like a sky at rest before a storm. Tír Mallacht was such a joyless place. Even the children – those whose sparks should burn the brightest – seemed to speak only in whispers.

‘Have you lived here all of your life?’ Ben asked.

‘I have.’

He waited for more. It didn’t come. Mary smiled at him, content that she had answered his question correctly. Top marks, Mary.

‘And tell me,’ he continued, unfazed, ‘what was it like growing up here?’

She thought long and hard. Twice her lips parted soundlessly before she spoke. ‘When we’re young we don’t know very much, I think. We do what our parents ask of us. It’s always been important to do as you’re told, especially when you’re a child. And then, when you’re older you understand it more. You appreciate why you do it.’

‘It’s all part of growing up, isn’t it?’ Ben said, not quite understanding her answer.

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

‘The summers here must be lovely?’ he asked. ‘Other parts of the country can be so loud. You know, so busy all the time what with all the cars and people.’

She just blinked at him. If Mary knew what a car was, she had no strong feelings towards them. It was a test. Ben wanted to disturb the waters slightly to see if anything moved. He had to know if they were as preserved as Sparling thought them to be.

‘Have you ever left this village, Mary?’

‘No,’ she replied, shaking her head, eyes shifting to the open frame. ‘We don’t leave here. My children will spend their lives in Tír Mallacht, as I have done and as did my parents before me.’

‘And why don’t you leave? There’s nothing stopping you, is there?’

‘We have everything we need here in the village,’ she said, feigning a weak smile no more convincing than the tone of her voice. ‘Everyone is safe so long as we stay here, and that’s what matters.’

‘Safe?’ Ben asked, puzzled. ‘Everyone is safe from what, Mary?’