Page 99 of The Girl with the Irish Secret
‘Great.’ Vi smiled to reassure him that all was well. ‘Didn’t mean to be gloomy. Not your fault that all these feelings suddenly came to the surface.’ Perhaps it was why she had been a little doubtful about coming home, she pondered. Despite her love of this place. the dark shadows of loss and sadness always seemed to come to the surface when she was here. She wondered how Lily and Rose could cope with all the memories, living so close.
‘I can’t imagine how it must feel. Must be very difficult for you.’ He paused, casting a final glance at the portraits.
Vi was happy to step outside and feel the warmth of the sun. Then they walked in silence through the gardens and along the path to the gatehouse and Jack’s car.
Vi felt more comfortable in his company after that. She was getting used to being with him and found him a great conversationalist, being knowledgeable about so many subjects, such as history, politics and literature. She was no longer so in awe of him or afraid to contradict him when she felt like it. The schoolgirl crush was replaced by a more mature feeling of friendship and respect for an actor with so much experience. She was attracted to him but she was no longer starstruck and felt calm and content in his presence. He had been wonderful company ever since he had turned up on her doorstep that morning. But deep down, she felt unsure of him as she remembered the stories she had read in the papers and the photos of Jack and all kinds of beautiful women on his arm at red carpet events. That was far from the man she had spent all morning with. Who was the real Jack Montgomery?
15
Later, as they were walking on the vast expanse of Fermoyle beach on the other side of Connor Pass, Jack asked Vi about the Fleurys’ connection with the French family.
‘I sense an interesting story,’ he said, turning towards Vi, his hair ruffled by the strong breeze. ‘Or am I stepping on sore toes with my question?’
‘Not at all,’ Vi said. ‘That old story is something we laugh at now. About five years ago, my grandmother received a letter from a lawyer in France representing the Bernard family, claiming ownership of Magnolia Manor and all the lands around it. This was based on an old gambling debt incurred by my great-grandfather Cornelius Fleury about a hundred years ago.’
‘The gambler in the portrait?’ Jack asked, looking impressed. ‘How exciting.’
‘Not really,’ Vi replied. ‘We thought it was quite appalling. Especially as he had given away everything he owned.’
‘I suppose. But the whole thing was resolved in the end, then?’
‘That’s right,’ Vi said. ‘We finally found a letter from the member of the Bernard family who had accepted the property aspayment of the debt, giving it back to Cornelius’s wife. So all was well in the end.’
‘And you all made friends and then got together to turn the manor into apartments for pensioners?’
‘After a lot of toing and froing, yes,’ Vi replied. ‘It was Granny’s idea from the start but Arnaud and his son Henri thought it would work really well and decided to join the business venture.’
‘And Sylvia and Arnaud fell in love and became engaged?’ Jack said.
Vi laughed, looking up at the blue sky, enjoying the memory. ‘Oh yes, they did. That was quite funny, actually. They were arguing about the letter Sylvia had received and she told him off about it and how rude and insensitive it was for the Bernards to claim Magnolia Manor as their property based on an old gambling debt. She gave him hell but he just stood there and took it, admiring her feistiness and her flashing eyes. And then, when she had marched out of the room, banging the door behind her, he told us she wasmagnifiqueand how much he admired her spirit. She was already quite smitten, too, with his good looks and charm. Then, later, Granny laid her plans of the senior apartments in front of him and he was so impressed with the idea and they became partners both in business and privately. They’re quite a power couple in their own way.’ Vi drew breath.
Jack grinned. ‘What a great story. Proves that it’s never too late to either fall in love or start a new venture.’
‘That’s very true,’ Vi agreed, thinking of how worried she had been at turning thirty.
Jack looked out at sea and then across the stretch of golden sand lapped by the waves. ‘This is a fabulous beach. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so invigorated.’
‘I love coming here,’ Vi said. ‘Especially on a windy day like today. It raises my spirits.’
‘It certainly did something the same to mine,’ Jack declared.
They walked on in silence. Whipped by the wind, they watched as flocks of tiny sandpipers skimmed the surface of the water before they soared upwards, turning their bodies this way and that in a graceful ballet, their underbellies like flashes of silver in the brilliant sunshine against the backdrop of the turquoise sea and the bright-blue skies. The air was like cold, crisp white wine.
With the salty wind whipping her hair away from her face and the roar of the sea and the cries of seagulls in her ears, Vi forgot all her worries and breathed in the clean air. She smiled at Jack, who, having taken off his shoes, ran into the waves but pulled back as the water soaked his jeans. His hair was ruffled by the wind, his cheeks pink and his eyes calm. He closed them for a moment and turned his face to the sky, as if drinking in the sensations and trying to keep them in his mind forever. She knew then that the magic of Kerry had captured him. Both glowing, they returned to the car for the drive to Cloghane, the nearby village, for a glass of Guinness and a sandwich by the fire in the little pub.
As they sat by the smouldering turf fire, enjoying a bacon and tomato sandwich and a frothing glass of Guinness, Jack gazed at Vi and smiled. ‘You look amazing. Happy, glowing and very beautiful.’
Vi felt her face glow even more. ‘Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself, you know.’
‘That’s high praise indeed.’ Jack raised his glass. ‘Cheers and thank you for a wonderful day. First I fell in love with your granny and now I’m completely besotted with Kerry.’
‘Despite the cold wind and the rain showers?’ Vi asked.
‘Not despite,’ he argued, ‘but because of it. Don’t forget I’m from Yorkshire, where the wind is even stronger in the wintertime. Call me mad, but I love winter, as a matter offact. Summers are nice, but this time of year, the weather is invigorating.’
‘Oh, absolutely.’ Vi took a bite of her sandwich. ‘Winter is my favourite time of year. Especially now, coming up to Christmas.’ She looked at the little Christmas tree beside the fireplace and the decorations hanging from the beams in the ceiling. ‘The holidays are very special here. There are lovely Christmas concerts all around the villages and we go to the pubs to meet everyone who’s come home from all kinds of places around the world and we have parties and drinks and go for hikes in the mountains.’ She drew breath and laughed. ‘I’m sure Yorkshire is the same.’
Jack looked suddenly serious. ‘Well, yes. In a way. But not really for me. Not any more.’
