Who knows where the time goes?
There never seems to be enough time in Kinvara, or anywhere else in Ireland for that matter. When J.J.'s mother says time's what she really wants for her birthday, J.J. decides to find her some. He's set himself up for an impossible task . . . until a neighbor reveals a secret. There's a place where time stands still—at least, it's supposed to. J.J. can make the journey there, but he'll have to vanish from his own life to do so. Can J.J. find the leak between the two worlds? Will a shocking rumor about his family's past come back to haunt him? And what does it all have to do with the village's new policeman . . . ?
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About the Author
Kate Thompson lives on the west coast of Ireland, which provides inspiration for the Irish magic, music, and landscape in the award-winning The New Policeman and The Last of the High Kings.
Read an Excerpt
The New Policeman
By Kate Thompson
HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.Copyright © 2007 Kate Thompson
All right reserved.
J.J. Liddy and his best friend, Jimmy Dowling, often had arguments. J.J. never took them seriously. He even considered them a sign of the strength of the friendship, because they always made up again straightaway, unlike some of the girls in school, who got into major possessive battles with one another. But on that day in early September, during the first week that they were back in school, they had an argument like none before.
J.J. couldn't even remember now what it had been about. But at the end of it, at the point where they usually came round to forgiving each other and patching it up, Jimmy had dropped a bombshell.
"I should have had more sense than to hang around with you anyway, after what my granny told me about the Liddys."
His words were followed by a dreadful silence, full of J.J.'s bewilderment and Jimmy's embarrassment. He knew he had gone too far.
"What about the Liddys?" said J.J.
"Nothing." Jimmy turned to go back into school.
J.J. stood in front of him. "Go on. What did she tell you?"
Jimmy might have been able to wriggle his way out of it and pretend it was a bluff, but he had been overheard. He and J.J. were no longer alone. Two other lads, Aidan Currie and Mike Ford, had overheard and had come to join in.
"Go on, Jimmy," said Aidan. "You may as well tell him."
"Yeah," said Mike. "If he doesn't knowhe must be the only person in the county who doesn't."
The bell rang for the end of the morning break. They all ignored it.
"Know what?" said J.J. He felt cold, terrified, not of something that might happen but of something that he might find inside himself; in his blood.
"It was a long time ago," said Jimmy, still trying to retract.
"One of the Liddys . . ." Jimmy said something else but he mumbled it beneath his breath and J.J. couldn't hear. It sounded like "burgled the beast."
The teacher on yard duty was calling them in. Jimmy began to walk toward the school. The others fell in.
"He did what?" said J.J.
"Forget it," said Jimmy.
It was Aidan Currie who said it, loud enough for J.J. or anyone else to hear. "Sure, everyone knows about it. Your great-granddad. J.J. Liddy, same as yourself. He murdered the priest."
J.J. stopped in his tracks. "No way!"
"He did, so," said Mike. "And all for the sake of an old wooden flute."
"You're a shower of liars!" said J.J.
The boys, except for Jimmy, laughed.
"Always mad for the music, the same Liddys," said Mike.
He began to hop and skip toward the school in a goofy parody of Irish dancing. Aidan trotted beside him, singing an out-of-tune version of "The Irish Washerwoman." Jimmy glanced back at J.J. and, his head down, followed them as they went back in.
J.J. stood alone in the yard. It couldn't be true. But he knew, now that he thought about it, that there had always been something behind the way some of the local people regarded him and his family. A lot of people in the community came to the céilís and the set-dancing classes that were held at his house on Saturdays. They had always come, and their parents and grandparents had come before them. In recent years the numbers had increased dramatically with the influx of new people into the area. Some of them came from thirty miles away and more. But there was, and always had been, a large number of local people who would have nothing to do with the Liddys or their music. They didn't exactly cross the street to avoid J.J. and his family, but they didn't talk to them either. J.J., if he'd thought about it at all, had assumed it was because his parents were one of the only couples in the district who weren't married, but what if that wasn't the reason? What if it had really happened? Could J.J. be descended from a murderer?
The teacher was standing at the door, waiting for him.
J.J. hesitated. For a moment it seemed to him that there was no way he could set foot inside that school again. Then the solution came to him.
The teacher closed the door behind him. "What do you think you were doing, standing out there like a lemon?"
"Sorry," said J.J. "I didn't realize you were talking to me."
"Who else would I be talking to?"
"My name's Byrne," said J.J. "My mother's name is Liddy all right, but my father's name is Byrne. I'm J.J. Byrne."
Excerpted from The New Policeman by Kate Thompson Copyright © 2007 by Kate Thompson. Excerpted by permission.
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