‘Nice to see you both again. I’m so glad you could come.’ Elizabeth smiled and reached forward to shake hands.
‘And this is my son Zach. Cathy Crowley, Mrs Lynch.’ She hoped she was doing this correctly. Zach stepped forward awkwardly and offered his handshake.
‘And who is this little man?’ Mrs Lynch asked, taking hold of the little foot that was being wiggled in front of her face by the child that Zach was holding.
‘That is my grandson. His name is Foley.’
Mrs Lynch smiled. ‘Foley. Isn’t that lovely?’
‘Well, we’re all here so I should get his great-grandfather out of the car.’
Elizabeth went to retrieve a large plastic container, with a screw-top lid.
‘I’ve never been to one of these before,’ Mrs Lynch declared proudly.
‘I must admit, nor have I,’ her daughter added. ‘What happens?’
Elizabeth looked at Brian and Zach, hoping that one of them might have something to say, but they just stared back waiting for her to explain.
‘I’m not entirely sure either. There are no hard and fast rules. I just thought we’d spread his ashes out into the sea. If anyone wants to say something they can. I think that’s it.’ She gave a shrug.
‘The first thing I’d say would be we shouldn’t do it here.’ Brian pointed at the paddock in front of the house. ‘The wind is coming straight in off the sea, and we’ll end up wearing him.’ Mrs Lynch made a sound that suggested she would not enjoy that. ‘We’d be better off going around the side, below the ruin, where there’s a bit of shelter.’
Elizabeth looked at Mrs Lynch. ‘Will you be all right getting around there?’
‘She has her stick. She’ll be fine,’ Cathy answered for her mother.
Under the castle walls, Elizabeth unscrewed the lid of the plastic urn and then hesitated.
‘Would everyone like to take a handful?’ She held out the container.
The ladies looked a little uncertain, but did as they were told.
Five handfuls of dust were released into the air and the wind picked some of it up, lifting it high and out towards the sea, while some of it just landed on the grass at their feet.
Mrs Lynch sighed and crossed herself. ‘Poor Edward. He is released.’ The adults nodded sombrely in agreement.
As if to lighten the mood, Foley began to flail his small plump arms and laugh as the dark cloud of ash floated away. Smiling, Elizabeth turned and looked at her grandson. Tiny fragments of dust had begun to settle on his skin.
Acknowledgements
The aspect of writing that I enjoy the most is its solitary nature and yet to reach the point where you are holding this book in your hands has taken the talent, effort and patience of so many.
First and foremost I am hugely indebted to my editor Hannah Black. She has just the right mix of discipline and indulgence to get me past the finishing line. Her notes are unerringly useful and earning her praise makes all the days of doubt and despair worthwhile.
The whole team at Hodder provide wonderful support and make me feel like a fully fledged novelist. Heartfelt thanks to Carolyn Mays, Lucy Hale, Alice Morley, Louise Swannell, Emma Herdman and Ian Wong. Claudette Morris made this book. Alasdair Oliver and Kate Brunt made it beautiful. Dominic Gribben held my hand while I read it aloud and if you discovered this book outside of the UK, then we both need to thank Joanna Kaliszewska.
I must thank my early readers, Gill, Jonothan, Niall, Paula and Rhoda. Their eagle eyes and rational brains were invaluable.
As always I am so grateful to Melanie, Dylan and Hannah at Troika for keeping me busy but not so busy that I don’t have time to write a novel.
Becky and Kelly for managing my life so seamlessly.
And finally I must thank my mother, well, for so many things, but in this instance for giving me the seeds of the story that grew into this book.
I’ve loved spending time in Muirinish and Buncarragh and I really hope you have as well.
A Keeper Page 24
