Prologue

Prologue

Móirín

Three Months Ago

“ D aideo, an bhfuil ceann agat ar do leigheas?” My grandfather has been refusing to take his medicine of late and I find myself in the most unpleasant position of being the adult in this situation.

“Leanbh socair síos. Ná bí buartha an oiread sin. Anois teacht, suí liom.” Patting the seat beside him he tells me to stop worrying and sit beside him. I click my tongue at him, but I sit on the side of his bed. “Granddaughter,” he starts in broken English. “I have something I want to show you.'' He pulls a book from the side table and puts it between us. I recognize it as a book he often referred to as his ‘book of home’, but he has never shown me anything from it.

I watch as he flicks through pages, each picture raises my curiosity, but he doesn’t stop turning until he comes to a page with a woman holding the most enchanting gold shamrock, in her hand. It is the size of her palm, with tiny what appears to be tiny diamonds randomly placed on the design. “Daideo, who is that?” I ask him, pointing to the photo .

“That my mother.” he says, smiling at the photo. “You look like her.” I nod my head because I was literally thinking that. The resemblance is uncanny. My fingers trace the photo, and I notice she is holding something in her hands.

“Daideo, what is this?” I point to the brooch or something she is holding.

“That is priceless. It was stolen from my family when they fled from Ireland.” I can hear the emotion in his voice, and I pat his hand. “I tried to find it, but no luck. No have shamrock.”

“Do you know the last place it was seen?”

“Man sold it to a Russian man in America.”

“Do you have another photo of it?” I ask. My mind is already trying to plan a way to research its whereabouts. He nods vigorously and begins flipping the pages again. After a few seconds, he hands me a photo of the shamrock on a chain. “You find for me, granddaughter?”

“I will try, grandfather. I promise.” If it is the last thing I do.