Page 8 of The Stolen Child

‘One of the great things about these old houses is the two reception rooms. It meant we could turn one into my office and still have lots of space for the family.’ Lily sighed in satisfaction as her eyes swept around it. ‘This is one of my favourite rooms. I love the original windows.’

They both looked over to the large bay window, painted white, which flooded the room with light, even on grey and wet days like today.

‘It’s got a lot more charm than the apartment on the docks I’m renting, that’s for sure. Where should I sit?’ Zach asked.

Lily’s desk and chair were at one end, and a few feet away were two large armchairs. She pointed towards them, and they both made themselves comfortable. She noted that while his voice was assured, there were tells that he was nervous. His eyes darted around the room. But this was all normal for a new client. It could be intimidating walking into therapy.

‘Thank you for seeing me so quickly,’ Zach said.

Lily shrugged. ‘Well, you were lucky, as it happened. I am fully booked for three months in advance, but a client finished up with me last week so his spot became free.’

‘That was lucky,’ Zach said. Then he added, in a whisper, ‘As if it is meant to be . . .’ He watched her intently, his gaze steady.

‘As this is our first session, I’ll take some notes, okay?’ Lily said, thinking that this guy was intense.

Zach nodded his consent to the note-taking, and Lily smiled warmly at him as she asked, ‘How are you settling into Dublin?’

‘I love it here. I like the vibe at the Docklands. I can see why so many visit and never leave.’

‘Ireland of the thousand welcomes. We’re a friendly bunch, for sure. And your job, is that a new position for you?’

‘No. It’s the same job, but in a different location. I’m a risk advisor for a multinational company, Ace Funds. They have divisions all over the world. When the offer to work here for twelve months came up, I decided, why not?’ He shrugged and smiled warmly at her.

He was charming, and easy company to be around, Lily thought. ‘Where were you based before here?’

‘London. Before that, New York, the Netherlands, Spain . . . I suppose I’m what you might call a bit of a nomad.’

Lily scribbled notes as Zach spoke. ‘That’s impressive! Do you speak many languages?’ she asked, her curiosity piqued.

‘Five.’ He shrugged as if it were no big deal.

‘Wow. I never managed to conquer Irish at school, never mind French. Languages were not my thing.’

Zach looked at the four framed certificates on the wall behind her desk. ‘I think you did okay without them.’ He nodded in their direction.

She acknowledged this with another smile.

‘Tell me a little about yourself. Where did you grow up?’ Lily asked, so she could continue to build a picture of his life before they got to the real issue.

‘I grew up in Westport, which is a suburb about forty minutes outside of New York. We lived close to Lake Champlain. I practically grew up on the water. Our family likes to boat.’

‘Can you tell me a little about your life there? Describe your family for me if you feel comfortable doing that.’

‘Sure. My mom is from London, but she married a New Yorker when I was five. My stepdad is born and bred in Westport. They had three girls, so I have three younger sisters.’ His face relaxed, and he smiled as he spoke. ‘Jenny, Ally and Issy. We’re close.’

‘And do they all still live in Westport?’

‘Jenny and Ally are married and settled there, with their own families now. Issy is currently in London. She’s a chef. Single like me. But I think she might be seeing someone new. She’s gone quiet.’

Lily could tell that his family meant a great deal to him.

‘And are your mom and stepdad both alive?’

‘Yep. Thankfully, both are in great health. Mom retired last year. She sold her hairdressing salon, which was the best place in town for a blowout,’ Zach boasted with a smile.

His face changed when he spoke about his mom; there was warmth in every recollection. They were especially close.

‘My dad is a third-generation plumber. And he refuses to retire. My mom says he’ll die with a wrench in his hand, head under a U-bend.’