Page 74 of A Very Irish Christmas
Sean gallops ahead, and disappears off down the side of the house. We’re left alone – apart from Buttercup. She’s a big girl, black and white, with enormous shining eyes. I swear to God she’s laughing at me.
‘What’s the with cow?’ I ask. ‘Shouldn’t she be, I don’t know, on a farm or something?’
‘She will be, later on. She’s from one of those family places, you know, where people take their kiddies to feed the goats and the like? A friend of Sinead’s fella owns it, and he let us have a borrow of Buttercup for the day. She’s very tame, and she likes a nice walk. Did you come here to talk about the cow?’
I’m trying to formulate an answer when the front door to the house flies open, and a man and a woman come running out of it. The woman is substantial, tall and strong with curly black hair. Sinead, I’m guessing.
‘Brian, have you no eyes? Ryan is busy – take the cow back to the garden now, will you?’
She strides towards us, her gaze jumping from me to Ryan and back again.
‘You must be Cassie,’ she says, smiling as her husband nods and takes the rope from Ryan. ‘Ryan’s told me all about you, so.’
‘He has?’ I say, surprised. ‘What did he say?’
Ryan shuffles slightly uncomfortably between us, and she laughs at him.
‘Enough for him to look shady, there, eh? Look, I’ll need to go inside and stop the wee ones battering each other. Come in when you’re ready, all right?’
‘Alone at last,’ he says, as she shuts the door behind her. ‘So, you were about to tell me why you’re here?’
‘I’m here because I need to be brave,’ I say, deciding that I have nothing to lose. ‘Because I needed to follow my heart, even if it did lead me to a man with a cow. I’m here because I love you, Ryan. I have no idea if you feel the same, or if I’m being an eejit, or if I’ve just made a colossal fool of myself, but?—’
I don’t manage to get another single word out, because he suddenly takes hold of me, crushes me against him, and kisses me. It’s a phenomenal kiss – hot and passionate and epic. The kind of kiss they should write poems about.
‘You were talking too much,’ he says, when we tear away from each other, both breathless. ‘And I love you too, Cassie. Jesus knows I’ve tried hard not to, but I do – I’m a hopeless case. Now you’re here I warn you, I may never let you go. You’re stuck with me.’
I feel a rush of warmth through my whole body, and not just because of the kiss. Because of the look in his eyes, the love I can see there. Because I have followed my heart to exactly the right place.
I hear a cheer go up in the house, and guess that we must have had an audience. He grins and holds me in his arms, and everything feels right.
I don’t care that it’s raining. I don’t care that people are watching. I don’t care that there is a cow, mooing in the background. All I care about is this moment – this one perfect moment, here with my man.
EPILOGUE
‘Always follow your heart. It might lead you into trouble, but at least you’ll enjoy the ride.’
Nora O’Hara, RIP
CHRISTMAS EVE
ONE YEAR LATER
The first official wedding held at Bancroft Manor is mine and Ryan’s. It’s an informal affair, because the last time I had a big fancy one it didn’t work out so well.
Today, it is just me, Ryan – and a village full of our closest friends. I’m wearing a beautiful, pale-green sheath dress from the room upstairs, and he is in a suit. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in one, and I feel a familiar rush of heat at how good he looks.
My parents are here, along with Suzie and her boys. I’ve only seen them once in the last year, when I flew home to take care of things. When I told my mom and sister what my new life plan was, I’d expected mockery or stern advice – but they were actually delighted for me. There were even a few tears – the happy kind.
Deirdre’s crowd from Cork have all flown over, and my family are planning a trip to stay with them in the new year.
The ballroom is packed with Murphys and O’Haras and the rest of my extended Irish family. June has flown over, and brought a surprise guest – a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Hugh Grant in hisFour Weddingsera, who is standing next to her.
Charles got his investment, more than he’d even asked for, and Bancroft Manor has been transformed. Bookings for the year ahead are looking good, and I should know – I manage the place. Charles is thrilled, and has also started his archaeological dig. Today, he is accompanied by his new friend Charlotte, a consultant archaeologist he’s hired to help. I suspect she’s interested in more than ancient artefacts, and I can’t say that I blame her – Charles is as dashing as ever in his tailored tux.
Georgie is on the piano as my dad and I walk down to the front of the ballroom, playing her version of ‘It’s A Wonderful World’, her hair a golden sheen down her back.
I nod to everyone we pass – to Eileen in her fancy hat, to Orla and Cormac, to Mary Catherine and her tribe. To Eejit and Jasper, sitting near the front with Allegra and Roberts.
