Page 35 of The Granddaughter's Irish Secret
‘When did this happen?’ Rose couldn’t believe her grandmother hadn’t told her about it.
‘When she came back from France.’ Henri made an impatient gesture. ‘Why is this so hard to believe?’
Rose shook her head. ‘I do believe you, but I can’t understand why she didn’t tell me, when she knew how angry I’ve been with you.’
‘And now?’ he asked. ‘Are you still angry?’
‘I don’t know,’ Rose said, feeling confused. ‘I have to think about it.’
He leaned forward and put his hand on hers, fixing her with his eyes. ‘I hope you can come to terms with it. And I hope you can accept my apology to you, too. Rose, I’m sorry I caused all this sorrow and stress. It was the wrong thing to do. I know that now.’ He took his hand away and leaned back. ‘There. I said it. I meant it. But it wasn’t easy, you know.’
‘I’m sure it wasn’t,’ she said, still affected by the touch of his hand and the look in his eyes. It told her he truly wanted them to be friends.
‘So we’re good?’ he asked, looking a little unsure. ‘You forgive me?’
She smiled. ‘Yes. Thank you. I accept your apology. And I forgive you.’
‘Great.’ He returned her smile, looking relieved. ‘So then we can be friends and continue teasing each other?’
‘Why not?’ Rose suddenly felt a surge of warmth towards Henri. He had been honest with her, she felt, and had meant his apology. The story of his childhood was sad, and she realised he must have grown up with very little love from a father who had escaped his sorrow by burying himself in work. He’d built a business that had been very successful while ignoring his little boy who needed him. ‘How do you get on with your father now?’ she asked.
‘My father? We get on well now after all these years. He’s told me he regretted neglecting me and we’ve become closer, which is good. But he didn’t approve of me writing that letter to your grandmother, and he was very angry when he found out about it. But it was all resolved in the end. Everyone’s happy now, all thanks to Sylvia and her project, really. It’s going to be very successful. We’re planning to create more senior apartments in other areas of Ireland, actually. But that’s all in the future.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ Rose said, amazed at what he had just said. ‘Does this mean you also approve of Lily’s and my plans? For the walled garden and the café in the orangery, I mean.’
‘Approve, yes,’ he said. ‘But I still think you should fund it yourselves. Most of it anyway. We’ll see how much cash you can raise with the little fashion show.’
Rose was going to say something scathing but then realised he was goading her. ‘Okay.’ She smiled sweetly at him. ‘It’s going to be a huge success and we’ll have to turn people away.’
‘Can’t wait to see it,’ he said, meeting her smile with one of his own.
‘And you’ll take part?’ Rose asked.
‘As a model?’ He shook his head. ‘No thanks. I have this gammy knee, you see. Twisted it while surfing in Biarritz last year. Intermittent limp. Could play up on the catwalk and then it would make you look bad.’
Rose lifted an eyebrow. ‘Really? Never seen you limp.’
‘I’ve been lucky lately.’
Rose let out a snort. ‘Yeah, right. But never mind. I don’t think you’re model material anyway. You’re too short.’
‘And you’re too transparent,’ he retorted. ‘I’m over six foot. How tall do you have to be?’
Rose laughed. ‘Oh, okay. I think you won that one.’
He raised his glass. ‘Who cares? We’re having fun and we’ve buried the hatchet. Cheers to that.’
Rose lifted her glass of water and clinked it against Henri’s wineglass. ‘Cheers, Henri, This date has been great fun. Thank you for being so brave and saying sorry. That felt really good.’
‘So we can be friends?’ he said in a tone that hinted at something else.
‘Friends sounds great,’ Rose replied.
He nodded. ‘I agree. That’s a good start anyway.’
There was a calm between them after that. Henri talked about his love of surfing and Rose told him about her former career, how she had loved finding the right houses for her clients. As the evening wore on and the sun dipped behind Mount Brandon, they walked barefoot on the beach for a while, just enjoying the fresh wind from the sea, the warm air and the sand between their toes. Then Rose told Henri she had to go home, as she wanted to see the sunset from the top of Conor Pass and then drive home before it became too dark.
‘That’s a good plan,’ he said. ‘And I’ll go and meet my surfing buddies in the pub later before I go to bed. We’ll get up early to catch the waves as the tide comes in.’
