Lyrebird: Beautiful, moving and uplifting: the perfect holiday read. Cecelia Ahern

Right. Will you come with me to the vet?’ he asks. He wants her to come with him.

      ‘No. No. I stay here.’

      It is a general statement. Not, I will stay here. But I stay here. Always.

      Her clear skin is illuminated by the firelight. It’s so calm and serene in this room, despite Mossie’s struggle to survive and Laura’s quiet panic.

      She strokes Mossie’s belly, which moves up and down slowly.

      ‘When is the last time you left the mountain?’ he asks.

      She hides her face behind her hair, uncomfortable with the question.

      ‘How long have you lived here?’ he asks.

      She takes a while to answer the question. ‘Since I was sixteen. Ten years ago,’ she replies, stroking Mossie.

      ‘You haven’t left since then?’

      She shakes her head. ‘I’ve had no reason to.’

      He’s staggered by this. ‘Well, you have one now. Mossie would probably prefer it if you came with him,’ he says.

      And as if in agreement Mossie breathes out, his body shuddering.

      Bo is outside with Jimmy, pacing, making awkward conversation, watching the flickering fire in the windows, the scent of chimney smoke pumping from the cottage.

      ‘Interesting Joe never noticed the smoke.’ She looks up at the plume of smoke rising from the chimney.

      Jimmy looks up. ‘I suppose farms are always burning something or other.’

      Bo nods, good point. ‘So you don’t know who this girl is?’

      ‘I’ve never seen her before,’ he shakes his head. ‘And I’d know everyone around here. In a rural town like ours with a population of a few hundred, all spread around the mountains. It’s a mystery. My wife reckons she’s a tourist, not from around here, one of those hikers who stumbled across the cottage and stayed. We get a lot of them. Over the years a few have stayed. They fall in love with the place, or someone in the place, decide to put down roots here. She might not be here very long.’

      Bo ponders that but his wife’s conclusion does nothing to quell Bo’s curiosity, only further fuels her multiplying questions. Why would Tom lie about renting the cottage? Was it for his own financial gain? She doubted that. She filmed on this mountain three years ago and Tom never brought them here, never even mentioned it. She guesses the girl has been there at least that long or they would have filmed here. ‘Why the secret?’ she asks, confused.

      Jimmy looks thoughtful, but doesn’t reply.

      The door to the cottage opens and Solomon appears. He fills the tiny doorframe with his physique. The firelight is behind him, he is a dark large shadow. He looks like a hero, carrying a dog from a blazing fire.

      Bo smiles at the image.

      Solomon turns and speaks to the girl behind him, encourages her to come outside.

      ‘Come on, Laura, it’s okay.’ And there’s something in the way that he says that, or looks as he says that, that causes Bo’s smile to freeze.

      And then the girl appears, in a belted checked shirt-dress, with Converse and a chunky cardigan over it, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders.

      ‘We’re going to take Mossie to the vet,’ Solomon tells them. ‘Where do we go?’

      ‘Patrick Murphy, in the main street. Surgery will be closed now, but I’ll give him a call,’ Jimmy says, studying Laura. ‘Hello, Laura,’ he says kindly, wanting to make up for his earlier approach.

      Laura stares down at her Converses. She looks terrified. She reaches out and holds on to Solomon’s arm. She grips him so tightly, he can feel her body shaking.

      ‘We should go quickly, Garda.’ Solomon starts to move. ‘Mossie isn’t doing very well. I’m sure Joe would want him seen to first before anything else.’

      ‘Right so,’ Jimmy says, stepping back. ‘Laura, we can arrange to have an informal chat over the next few days. This lad can be here with you if you like.’

      Head down, Laura continues to cling to Solomon’s arm, another protective hand on Mossie. She makes a sound that appears to be the crackle of a dispatch radio.

      Jimmy frowns.

      ‘We can arrange a time for you and Laura to talk,’ Bo says to him, walking along with Laura and Solomon. ‘And perhaps you’ll agree to do the interview?’ She’d asked him to talk about finding Joe at the house when Tom was lying dead on the ground, she wanted to hear the peculiar scene explained by someone else. Now is a good time to negotiate. She’ll help him speak with Laura if he speaks with her.

      Laura stops walking.

      ‘Come on,’ Solomon calls to her, gently, in a tone of voice that Bo has never heard him use with her, or with anyone for that matter.

      Laura just stares at Bo, which puts Solomon in an incredibly difficult position, but this is getting ridiculous now. He’s exhausted, he wants to sleep. Mossie is getting heavier in his arms.

      ‘Jimmy, would you mind driving Bo to our hotel, please?’ He avoids Bo’s eye as he asks. ‘I’ll meet you there later, Bo.’

      Her mouth falls open.

      ‘You told me to help,’ he snaps, following the trail that leads to their parked car, adjusting the dog in his arms. ‘I’m helping.’

      Laura sits in the back of the car with Mossie. The dog lies across the seat, his head on her lap. Bo gets into the garda car, a scowl on her face. It would be a funny sight if Solomon were capable of being remotely amused by what is happening.

      ‘Thank you, Solomon,’ Laura says, so quietly that Solomon’s body immediately relaxes and the anger leaves him.

      ‘You’re welcome.’

      Laura is quiet in the car, whimpering occasionally along with Mossie in what he guesses is a show of support. He turns the radio on, lowers it, then decides against it and turns it off. The vet is thirty minutes away.

      ‘Why was the garda there?’ she asks.

      ‘Joe called him. He wanted to find out who you are and figure out why you’re living there.’

      ‘Have I done something wrong?’

      ‘I don’t know, you tell me,’ he laughs. She doesn’t and he gets serious again. ‘You are living in a cottage on Joe’s land, without his knowledge, that’s … well, it’s illegal.’

      Her eyes widen. ‘But Tom told me I could.’

      ‘Well, that’s okay then, that’s all you need to tell them.’ He pauses. ‘Do you have that agreement on paper? A lease?’

      She shakes her head.

      He clears his throat, she copies him, which is quite off-putting, but her innocent face suggests no malice, nor any sign that she’s even aware of what she did.

      ‘Were you paying him rent?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Right. So you asked him if you could live there and he said you could.’

      ‘No. Gaga asked him.’

      ‘Your grandmother? Could she support you on that?’ he asks.

      ‘No.’ She looks down at Mossie and strokes him. She kisses his head and nuzzles into him. ‘Not from where she is.’

      Mossie whimpers and closes his eyes.

      ‘Is it true that Tom is dead?’ she asks.

      ‘Yes,’ he says, watching her in the mirror. ‘Sorry. He had a heart attack on Thursday.’

      ‘Thursday,’