Our duo collided literally – if you’ll excuse the pun – at the entrance to the only bookstore in Ballymadoughtrery. Now, to state it was a bookstore would be an overstatement. It would better be described as the only grocery store in Ballymadoughtery with a few donated tomes from summer visitors.

Having exchanged apologies and pleasantries the pair entered the store together.

Fidelma was here to collect the new Stephen King novel, which Mr. McMillen, the proprietor dutifully obtained for her. Oswald was in to browse.

Having obtained and paid for their purchases, both turned to leave and collided once again, dropping bags on the floor.

“Why, I am so so sorry, little lady” said the tall, good looking stranger, in the broadest Southern American accent. “My fault entirely, Ma’am”

The beautiful, resonant voice melted Fidelma’s temper and she inclined her head, tucked her parcel under her arm and left the store.

“What an enchanting creature” observed the gentleman to Mr. McMillen, who was looking a little amused at the tableau.” But I imagine she will be more than a little annoyed with me when she reaches her home. I appear to have picked up the King rather than the Count. Dracula was my choice.”

Their lives were never quite the same again. This chance meeting was to change them forever in so many ways. Over the next few months, Nuala and Oswald met frequently in every literary, written word establishment to be found in Ballymadoughtery all two of them – the library and the bookstore. Very, very gradually they began to really notice each other, began to look forward to their chance meetings. Discussions, sometimes heated, came about between the pair, concerning the merits and demerits of their favourite scribes.

Was Dracula a love story or was it horror? Has Stephen been losing his muse over the last few years?

Their subconscious minds accepted their growing attraction – their conscious minds denied it.

Convent life paled substantially for Sister Nuala and eventually the time came, she knew, to leave the confines of monastic life.

Oswald began to question his way of life, began to realize that he only turned to homosexuality to thwart his strict, moralistic parents. He had never had a boyfriend, never looked for a boyfriend and knew now with certainty, he didn’t want one.

And so it came to be, with the passage of time, that the bells of the little parish church in Ballymadaughtery rang out in joyous celebration of the union of Fidelma and Oswald.

Oswald Dupree was born of wealthy parents in the Deep South of Tennessee, a much wanted and loved child. That is until teenage years approached. He started to take an interest in the garments his mother wore, making suggestions for subtle alterations or differing colours – a bow here, a slash there, maybe lift the hem a little.

His parents became confused. Oswald was going to study medicine , become a distinquished doctor, find a cure for something or other and make them proud. But he was telling them he wanted to design frocks!! This just wouldn’t do. They would be the laughing stock of the Country Club. People would talk, which, of course they did.

They labelled Oswald strange, even gay and ridiculed his parents who refused to stand by him.Oswald, reeling under the insults began to doubt himself, began to believe the viscious rumours.

He ran away from home, unable to bear it any longer and to try to discover in which direction his future lay.

He seriously doubted his homosexuality but incessant taunts and comparisons with his elders had turned his world upside down. His family had provided no support for his plans, his love for fashion design, considering it an occupation beneath contempt. His self confidence took a nose dive, until he met like-minded people on his travels and labouriously step-by-step limbed the ladder of the garment world.

His face was in every magazine cover, his story in every newspaper. He was famous and recognised wherever he went. His family tried to contact him, fame winning them over. Two-faced hypocrites.

To escape the media frenzy, Oswald took himself to Ireland – to a little West Coast village named Ballymadoughtery. There to meet his fate and to resolve the conflict within him.