“I don’t think I’m supposed to do anything. Grey told me the same thing you did a few moments ago: I should just forget about it and get on with my life.”

“But Walker said the bogans might come looking for you.”

Lizzie hated being reminded of that, but she nodded.

“And I have to admit,” Siobhan went on, “I’d really like to actually . . . you know . . . meet this guy.” She gave Lizzie a thin smile. “If ‘guy’ is even the proper term.”

“Except I got the feeling,” Lizzie said, “that his offer to come to me when I called him seemed to imply that I should only do it if I was in danger.”

“From the bogans.”

“I guess. You’d have to have seen him, but Walker didn’t strike me as the sort of person you’d bother with anything frivolous. It was like . . . I don’t know.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Like meeting a saint.”

Siobhan smiled. “Oh, if your mother could hear that, you’d lose all the points you gained when we named the band the Knotted Cord.”

Lizzie’s mother, a devout Catholic, had been somewhat mollified by the band’s name, because she certainly wasn’t happy about her daughter becoming a professional musician. Lizzie and Siobhan had originally chosen the name because “The Knotted Cord,” also known as “Junior Crehan’s” after its composer, was a favourite tune of theirs. It was Lizzie’s mother who’d pointed out that the knotted cord represented rosary beads, dating back to a time in Ireland when people too poor to afford them would make a set of their own out of string or rope.

“But you know what I mean,” Lizzie said. “When you meet someone . . . not exactly holy, but very spiritual.”

“Like the Dalai Lama.”

“I suppose. But I’ve never met him.”

“Neither have I,” Siobhan said. “But I can imagine what it’d be like meeting him.”

Before Lizzie could respond, they were hailed from the top of the stairs.

“There you are!”

They turned to see Andy waving down at them. A moment later he was joined by Con.

“The boys are awake,” Siobhan said. “Let the revels begin.”

Lizzie laughed and they got up.

“This fairy business . . . ,” Lizzie began as they mounted the stairs.

“Is just between us,” Siobhan assured her.

“We’ve been looking all over for you,” Andy said when they got to the top.

“When did you get back?” Con asked Lizzie.

She shrugged. “Last night. I changed my mind and turned around about halfway home.”

“You missed some grand music,” Andy said. “Your man Liam McNamara—oh, he knows some brilliant tunes.”

“I heard a bit before I left last night,” Lizzie said.

Con fell in step with her as they crossed back to the hotel.

“So, what made you change your mind?” he asked.