Monday, July 29, 2013

Hannie Rising - An Irish novel - excerpt 2

She looked around the spare room where Mickey once threw bottle caps at the referees on television when he didn’t agree with the call. Now his wife used it as an office. The floor boards shone with the same reverence Maura had seen in the entry hall at the rectory. Not a speck of dust filtered through the still air. Every book was shelved according to color and a distinctive lemon scent rose from the couch cushions. “You need to go back to work, Hannie,” she said matter-of-factly. “This place looks like a feckin’ undertaker lives here.”

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