Eliza quickly showered and dressed. She came down the stairs. Sheila was sitting on one side of the foyer. Straight-backed, her handbag on her lap.

As they greeted one another, Eliza felt the scrutiny again. As if the older woman was trying to memorise her appearance.

‘We need to talk privately,’ Sheila said. ‘It won’t take long.’

Emmet must have told her why Eliza was here, the question she’d come to ask him. His mother obviously wasn’t impressed. Her mood was almost hostile. Eliza glanced around. The foyer was crowded. There seemed to be coachloads of people staying, all down early, ready for sightseeing.

‘I don’t know where we could go, I’m sorry. Perhaps a café in town?’

‘No. We can’t be seen publicly. Your room would be best. Quickly, before anyone sees us.’

‘My room? Sheila, I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Is everything —’

‘I’ll explain when we’re alone.’

Eliza led the way, confused and tense. She went in first, hurriedly tidying her bed. ‘Please, sit down. Can I make you a tea? Coffee?’

Sheila stayed standing. ‘How old are you, Eliza?’

‘I’m thirty.’

‘When did you get here? To Ireland?’

‘Yesterday. I’ve been in Edinburgh.’

‘Is it the first time you’ve been to Trim?’

‘Yes.’

‘And your mother, she’s still in Australia?’

‘No.’ A pause. ‘Emmet didn’t tell you?’

‘We haven’t spoken properly yet. He was too busy last night.’

‘My mother died. Thirteen years ago. When I was seventeen.’

‘How?’

‘Mrs —’

‘Please, Eliza, tell me how she died.’

‘It was an accident.’ She left it at that. ‘You met her? When she was here with Emmet that summer?’

‘Of course. My husband ran the bar, I looked after the food, the rosters. Tried to keep the peace between Emmet and his father.’

‘They didn’t get on?’

‘Not for years. That’s one of the reasons he went to London. Eliza, why are you here?’

Eliza was taken aback at the question. At the whole situation. She didn’t know how much Emmet might want his mother to know. ‘I’m not sure if I can say. It’s personal.’

‘Please. It’s important I know.’ She seemed agitated.

Eliza carefully chose her words. ‘My mother never told me who my father was. She was going to, but she died before she could. It’s only now that I’ve started looking for him.’

Sheila didn’t speak. She just waited.

Eliza continued. ‘My godmothers have been helping me. We hoped it was Emmet. But yesterday,’ she paused, ‘I learned that wasn’t possible, for the reasons you know.’ She didn’t mention his cousin.

‘I see. So now you’ll leave again?’

She nodded. ‘We’re getting the ferry back to Scotland today.’

‘We?’

‘I’m travelling with a friend.’ The simplest way to describe Lawrence.

Sheila walked to the window and stared out at the castle. Eliza watched her, puzzled.