Page 13 of To Hell With It

Anickuna Cottage is set back from the village. It is sunflower yellow with a black iron gate and looks out across the fields over to Slievenamon, which meansMountain of the Women.The myth was that a legend called Fionn waited at the top while the women of the village raced to be with him, and whichever lucky fair maiden won was declared his wife.I’d thought about climbing it many times myself, but Fionn would have been long gone by then.

I could see the tip of Slievenamon from my kitchen window as it poked out from behind the morning mist. I stared back at Jack. At his copper hair and freckles. His chocolate eyes looked almost black, like lumps of coal. He could be my Fionn. He could be my hero.

‘Is it still OK?’ he repeated, breaking my thoughts, but I kept my eyes on the mountain.

‘Yes,’ I said before I could come back to reality.

ChapterEight

The reality was, I was in deep shite. I had said yes when I meant to say no and I blamed the spell of Slievenamon, of bloody Fionn and his fair maidens, because they made me do it. They made me agree.

Jack had said he needed to get a few bits from town so I’d put him on the number 53 bus into Clonmel because it was the longer route and meant I’d have a few hours to work out what the hell I was going to do.

‘So?’ Una stood in front of me so that I couldn’t ignore her. But I kept my eyes on the till. I’d made a mistake with yesterday’s takings and needed to figure it out before Mrs O’Callaghan came back from the hospital.

‘So, what?’

‘So what happened? Did you sleep with him?’

‘No.’

‘Did you do anything?’

‘Just said The Lord’s Prayer, in my pants, apparently, although we might have done something else, I can’t actually remember.’

‘Oh, shit.’

‘Yep.’

‘Ah well, at least you don’t have to see him again, it doesn’t matter if he thinks you’re a nut job.’

‘I am going to see him again,’ I said.

‘Oh my God, when?’ Una piped up excitedly.

‘Tonight.’

‘Fuck, where?’

‘At mine.’

‘Pearl O’Reilly has a date!’

‘It’s not a date.’

‘A shag then.’

‘I’m not going to sleep with him.’

‘You could have a Kiwi fling.’

‘I don’t want a Kiwi fling.’

‘You’re telling me you’ve got a hot guy coming over for the night and you’re not going to sleep with him?’

‘It’s worse than that.’ I turned to my best friend.

‘What do you mean?’ She lowered her voice. We’d always had banter, it was what made our friendship, but Una had a soft side too. She could be deep when I needed her to be, and vice versa.

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