About the book
The Man Who Stayed
The kettle was cold. That was the first thing Aisling Moore noticed when she opened the back door of her father’s house and let herself into the kitchen where half her childhood had happened in steam, quarrels, rashers, and people pretending not to cry. Not the dust lying grey along the windowsill. Not the stack of unopened letters held down by a chipped mug with GARDA COMMUNITY RAFFLE 2009 fading from blue to a tired sort of purple.