Page 56 of A Very Irish Christmas
‘So, does everyone go back to Ireland at this time of year?’ I ask as we walk.
‘Not everyone. Cormac and Orla stay because of the pub. Mary Catherine and her tribe all decamp back to Wexford, and Eileen goes to Dublin – but not until Christmas Day itself, because she’s finishing off all her orders until then.’
‘Wow. I didn’t even know there’d be flights.’
‘Not many, but it’s a lot of fun – the Christmas Day flights are always a good craic. What will you do, Cassie, on the day?’
‘I’m not sure. Charles has invited me up to the house, which is nice. But I think I might be just as happy in Whimsy, with Eejit.’
It strikes me as I say this how far I’ve come, and how good this whole trip has been for me. There are some obvious advantages – no sneering Suzie, no sitting around missing Nanna Nora. No more watching of the dreaded wedding video, which I have decided to delete for good. No more feeling sorry for myself, basically.
‘He’s taken a shine to you, he has. Eejit. Never known him get so close to anyone.’
‘Are you jealous?’ I ask, nudging him. ‘You were the alpha dog before I arrived!’
He pretends to be offended, waves his fists in the air, and says: ‘I’m still the alpha dog, and don’t you forget it, woman!’
The effect is spoiled by the fact that he’s so busy showing off he accidentally knocks against a tree branch, and the dislodged snow tumbles down all over him.
‘Alpha snowman more like,’ I say, laughing as he freezes, his head covered in the stuff.
He’s busy swiping it off when my phone rings. It’s Charles.
‘Hi – are you out on the estate?’ he asks.
‘Yes, we are. Everything okay?’
‘I’m sure it is, but we seem to have a bit of a situation with Georgie. Her therapist is here, but she is not.’
I glance at the time, surprised to see that we’ve been out for so long. Charles sounds worried, and I say: ‘Could she just be, I don’t know, avoiding her? I know she said she was hoping to get her to resign before Christmas!’
‘That could well be it – but she’s not answering her phone either. This isn’t unusual, she does like to take off and roam, but she seemed tired this morning after all the excitement.’
Ryan raises his eyebrows at me, obviously picking up on the change in mood, and I say: ‘Okay. We’ll go and look for her. Do you have a tracker on her phone, one of those friends and family things?’
‘No, which now seems like a foolish choice. I’m going to send the therapist away, and ring round some of her friends just in case.’
‘I’d try a kid called Ollie Kerr, lives on a farm near Marshington Grange. Sounded like she had little bit of a crush on him.’
‘How do you know that and I don’t? Am I the world’s worst father?’
‘Don’t be stupid – no teenage girl is going to talk to her dad about stuff like that! Look, let us know if you hear anything, okay?’
I fill Ryan in, and he stands with his hands on his hips studying the landscape. I know he’s very fond of Georgie, and can see how concerned he is.
‘Shall we try the tower?’ he suggests. ‘She might be in there, having a ciggie and hiding? And if not, we’ll get a good view around the place.’
It’s a good idea, and we strike out across the snowy paths, reaching the folly about twenty minutes later. I shout her name as we go inside, running up the stone steps and hoping to see a puff of smoke in the air. I sag in disappointment when I find the place empty, but join Ryan at one of the windows. Together we move from one to another, him using his camera zoom and me using my eyes, trying to spot any sign of her.
‘Nothing,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘Has he checked if her car’s gone?’
I quickly message to ask, and receive a reply telling me her car is still in the garage, and that Ollie Kerr was a bust. I try to cast my mind back to the first day I met her, and the little tour she gave me of her favourite places on the estate.
‘Where’s the pond?’ I ask Ryan, staring out at the grounds.
‘I think there’s a few. Which one?’
‘It had steep sides, and reed beds, and she said she used to like hanging out there.’
