Page 42 of A Very Irish Christmas
I punch him playfully in the arm, answering: ‘You can do this, you know. It’s not even that big a deal – a lot of it is smoke and mirrors, and I’ve done this before, for the company I work for. Some of the pictures and video we use to promote our services are from genuine events, but some are completelystaged. The food doesn’t need to be edible, the guests don’t really need to be drinking actual wine… there ways of doing it quickly and cheaply. There will be some costs, but we can keep them minimal – and at the end of the day it’s an investment.’
‘Where would we get the people?’ Roberts asks, frowning. ‘Do we hireactors?’
He says this with such dread that I have to smile. Maybe Roberts had a bad experience with an amateur dramatics troupe that has left him bitter.
‘Well, you can – or models at least. But look, I’ve been thinking about this, and I suspect you have more on your doorstep than you think you do. You have a whole village, and from what I’ve seen of the people in that village, there are a lot of skills to go around. You have bakers and cooks, you have people who know how to run hospitality. You have musicians, and you have a poet, and you have so many people who could probably help…’
There’s a definite stiffening of upper lips at this suggestion, from both men. Only Georgina seems to be taking it in and running with it.
‘Ignore Dad,’ she tells me, ‘he’s just tripping over his own importance. It’s a pride thing – asking for help doesn’t come easily to him. You’re right, Cassie – the people in the village are brilliant. Cormac used to run a posh bistro in Dublin, and Eileen’s obviously a genius, and everyone has something to offer – Orla could do hair and make-up, and Mary Catherine would help get it all sparkling. Her daughter Sarah doesn’t just run the tea rooms, in the summer she does catering for outside events, so she’d have the right contacts for hiring tables and all that boring stuff. And Ryan could take the photos.’
‘Ryan?’ I repeat in confusion. I’d anticipated him having a role, but it was more along the lines of brawny general labourer than man behind the camera.
‘Yeah. Ryan. He used to be a photographer, had exhibitions in galleries and stuff. He took all the pictures that are up on the walls in the pub?’
I remember those pictures. I remember thinking how good they were, how they brought the beauty of Ireland to life – that they were gallery quality. I assumed they’d been bought for the pub, and I never would have expected the artist to be Ryan.
I don’t even give Charles the chance to over-react to Georgie’s suggestion, though – I just jump on it.
‘Perfect. Those photographs are excellent, and you need someone top quality. Plus if they were up for it, the rest of the villagers could be our wedding guests, or our business people, or our art class! I honestly think, Charles, that if you explained the situation they’d be happy to get involved – and if they do, I think we can get this done in time for the New Year.’
Charles still looks hesitant, and I know Georgie is right – this is his pride at work. He doesn’t come across as a snob or as a man who thinks he is better than everyone else, but he is the latest in a long line of people at the top of the social tree. Accepting that he now needs to ask for help from the lower branches might not come easily to him.
‘I know you don’t want to wash your dirty linen in public, Charles, but this does affect them as well, from what you’ve said to me? You’ve mentioned putting their rents up, or even selling the estate, which would mean they’d have a new landlord who didn’t have any of the personal connections. Maybe it’s only right to give them the chance to avoid that?’
He seems to be giving it a lot of thought, and eventually nods, abruptly.
‘Okay. That’s a fair point. But we’ll need to move quickly – a lot of them go home for Christmas. We’d need to get the ball rolling straight away.’
‘Shall I call around, Charles?’ Roberts asks, once the decision has been made. ‘Invite a few key players up for a chat?’
‘No,’ Charles says firmly, ‘if I’m going to ask them for their help, then I need to be honest about it – and I need to do it on their turf. Set it up for the pub, and spread the word – if nothing else, I’ll definitely be needing a drink afterwards.’
SIXTEEN
Georgie and Roberts disappear soon after – Roberts to arrange the meeting, and Georgie to ‘raid the Dressing Room’.
This, I’m told by Charles, is a chamber at the top of the house where clothes going back decades are stored.
‘I’ve no idea what’s even up there,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘There could be everything from a Jacobean ruff to the awful sailor suit they dressed me up in as a baby. I suspect Georgie is planning to put together splendid outfits for our fake party guests to wear.’
‘That’s not a bad idea, Charles – I’m sure there are some classy garments to choose from.’
He shrugs, and I can tell he is worried.
‘Are you okay with all of this?’ I say, placing my hand on his arm. ‘I feel like I’ve ambushed you with my crazy American energy.’
He looks at my hand and smiles reassuringly, his green eyes on mine.
‘No, please don’t think that. I suspect some crazy American energy could be exactly what we needed – a kick up the proverbial backside. To some extent Georgina was right – I am indeed tripping over my own importance, as she so charminglyput it. There’s no room for pride anymore, and I need to be clear-headed about it all. It’s just that right now, I’m still adjusting, and my head feels far from clear.’
He places his hand over mine, and the touch of his skin on my fingers suddenly feels overwhelming. June had talked a good game on the phone, but I’m still not sure I’m ready for any more ‘moments’.
He seems to sense my uncertainty, squeezes my hand, and puts a respectable distance between us. Or maybe I just imagined the whole thing…
‘I know there’s a lot to discuss,’ he says, ‘but I think I need a break from it before my head explodes. Would you join me for lunch, or a walk around the grounds? I promise not to foxtrot you through the flower beds, or anything at all inappropriate.’
There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that makes me doubt that, which I can’t deny is good for the ego. I agree to a walk, because it’s a beautiful day out there, and walking always helps me think.
