Page 12 of A Very Irish Christmas
‘Does he live with Ryan then?’
The dog has followed us in, and is curled up in a slinky ball in front of the fire. Every now and then his pale blue gaze flickers up towards me, like he’s keeping a careful eye on me.
‘No, the poor yoke doesn’t seem to live anywhere. Most of us open our doors to him, and he doesn’t go short – but so far, he keeps his distance. He belongs to everyone and no one. Much like Ryan, now I come to think of it…’
Just as she says this, the man himself reappears, wheeling my suitcase into the room. I notice that his black T-shirt is soaked through, clinging to his strong shoulders and solid torso in a way that makes me blink and look quickly away. I’m sure aman who looks and sounds like him is used to women falling at his feet, and I’m in no rush to add my name to the list.
‘Thank you,’ I say, ‘that’s very kind of you.’
‘Sure, it’s not a problem – at your service, Cassie. I’ll be leaving the two of you for a while now – I have an urgent appointment to get to.’
Eileen makes a ‘tsk’ sound and flaps her hands at him as though she’s chasing him out of the place.
‘Get gone, you hallion! I don’t think it’s altogether “urgent” that you prop up the bar in the pub, now, is it? Will the sky fall in if you stay away?’
‘It won’t fall in, but maybe it’ll slip just a shade? Truth be told, Cormac had just pulled me the perfect pint of Guinness, and it’s terrible rude to leave it there all alone, pining for my lips.’
Eileen picks up a ball of wool from her basket and throws it at his head, saying: ‘Not everything is pining for your lips, Ryan Connolly!’
Ryan laughs, nimbly dodging out of the way, and disappears through the doorway. I find myself staring in that direction, blinking and slightly bewildered.
‘That man never met a living creature he wouldn’t flirt with,’ Eileen announces, the crinkled laughter lines gathering around her eyes giving away her fondness. ‘And to be fair, I reckon he’d have a go at charming the kettle if he was bored enough! Has a heart of pure gold though, he does. Anyway. How are you feeling now?’
I sip my magic potion, and realise I am very slightly tipsy, quite sleepy, and still hungry. It’s a weird combination, and I need to move away from the comfort of the fire before I drift off. I’ll just drool all over my face and wake up ravenous enough to eat my own arm.
‘Better, thank you,’ I reply, automatically relaxing at the gentle lilt of her voice. ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you rescuing me. It’s freezing in Whimsy Cottage, and it doesn’t smell great, and it wasn’t exactly what I was expecting when I booked it.’
‘No, I can imagine, you poor thing. I’m sure it can all be sorted – the owner is a decent sort, so don’t be worrying. Need be you can spend the night here with us.’
‘Us?’ I echo.
‘I live down here and run the bakery. Ryan has his own rooms upstairs. It suits us both – our own space, but company when we fancy it. I just pop in my wee earplugs and I’m away.’
My eyes widen slightly as I wonder what he could be getting up to that’s so loud, but decide it’s probably better not to know. Since my ill-fated wedding day and the ensuing collapse of my life, I’ve not really thought about men, and definitely not in a sexy or romantic way. It’s like that part of me just switched off – I don’t feel the urge to get out into what seems like a scary dating world, and I don’t have the self-confidence to go and meet people the old-fashioned way in bars.
If I’m being honest with myself, the little spark of interest I felt when I really noticed Ryan was the first I’d felt in a long while. I’m not quite sure whether to smother it or kindle it – my instincts say smother, but then again, aren’t I supposed to be using this trip to recreate myself?
It’s all too complicated, and I’m exhausted at the thought. Instead, I think, I will simply do what I intended to do all along – go to the pub in search of sustenance.
‘Eileen, do they have steak and kidney pie in the pub across the road?’
She grins at me, and replies: ‘Ah! A woman after me own heart, now, aren’t ye? They do a steak and Guinness pie, and Ipromise it’s the best you’ll ever have. I know the one who bakes the pies. She’s a rare talent.’
‘Right,’ I say, clocking her mischievous wink, ‘well, I’m starving, and if I stay here a minute longer I’ll be asleep. So I’m going to do what my Nanna Nora would do, and head to the pub. I love English pubs.’
‘I hope you like Irish pubs, too. Now, head through that wee door there, you’ll find the bathroom and my bedroom, where you can get changed. I’ll call Cormac and tell him to get your dinner in the oven!’
I nod gratefully, and drag my suitcase away with me. As I root through it for fresh clothes, I realise that the bedroom smells like Nora as well. A combination of lavender and rose – an essence of something from childhood. I sit on the pretty patchwork quilt, and gaze around at the unfamiliar room that somehow feels like a place I already know. I spot a huge ‘Happy 80thBirthday’ card that stands in pride of place on top of a dark wooden cabinet crammed with knickknacks and pottery ornaments.
I can’t help but smile, and I feel a sense of warmth and contentment spread over me. It’s almost physical, that sensation – a sweeping presence of reassurance and wellbeing. Like my nanna really has come back to me, for this one precious moment, just to tell me: ‘Don’t worry so much, angel – everything will be as it should.’
SEVEN
On the outside, The Red Lion is the very picture of a quaint English countryside inn. It looks quite prim and proper, the kind of place Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple might visit for a swift sherry on her way back from solving a murder at the vicarage.
Inside, it’s a different matter. As soon as I step through the door, my senses are assaulted – the room isn’t that big, but it is a riot of colour and sound, a melting pot of music and mirth and mouth-watering smells.
All of the scattered tables and little alcoves are filled, and in one corner a small group of people are playing lively music on a variety of different instruments. I spot a couple of energetic fiddlers, a flute, a penny whistle and a banjo, all going with great gusto, filling the room with a melodic but playful backdrop.
