PROLOGUE
Autumn, 2012

Powerscourt Gardens, laid out by Daniel Robertson in 1831, had become a favourite retreat for Sinaid and Finn O’Donnell. Fingers entwined, they strolled through shafts of sunlight slanting between moss covered elms and oaks. In autumn, the gardens were magical. Ahead, five-year-old son Patrick happily pointed out swans to his younger brother, Thomas. The elegantly sculpted landscape was mellow and harmonious – markedly different from Australia’s blue green eucalypts, azure skies and strident red, brown and yellow soils.

The O’Donnells had moved from Australia to Ireland in 2007, and after five years in County Wicklow, marvelled at the rich and blessed lives they had created.

On this mild afternoon, traces of wood smoke brought a wistful, yet deep solace to the grounds. Tomorrow, the O’Donnells would meet Australian friends they had not seen for six years. They looked forward to their reunion and to showing off their two boys.

Finn gave Sinaid’s hand a squeeze as little Thomas came trotting back, his chubby hand clutching the silvery grey pinion feather of a red-footed falcon.

‘Look, look,’ he squealed, ‘I’ve got a lucky fevver. Look Mummy, a lucky fevver.’

‘Ah little man,’ murmured Finn, ‘that is indeed lucky because for us it means freedom and safety and one day, when you are old enough, we’ll tell you why.’