Page 10 of One More Day
It’s Donegal, I remind myself. When they say it’s remote, it’s remote. I’ve passed acres of fields in every shade of green,I’ve driven along rocky mountain roads that would take even the most cynical breath away, and I’ve checked and double-checked that I’m on the right path.
After winding roads which seem to last forever, views of the sea that I can only imagine would be heaven on a clear day and a stray sheep that causes an emergency stop, I find myself passing through a very cute little village with just a few pastel-coloured buildings, a thatched-roof pub with a restaurant, a café, a craft shop plus a very ornamental church which has an outdoor manger, all of which is looked upon by a perfectly plump pine Christmas tree.
‘Civilisation at last, Max,’ I say to my sidekick who has been remarkably calm throughout most of our journey, except for his tendency to bark for an unknown reason every time we hit a junction. ‘Ah, this is exactly what I dreamed of.’
We take a right turn out of the village and onto a narrow country lane which becomes thinner and bumpier by the second. We cross over a cattle grid and past some hawthorn bushes until into our view comes what will be our home for the next two weeks. I put my window down for just a second to see if I can hear the sea which looks like a dark blue blanket in the distance.
I can. My heart lifts at the prospect of it all.
The cottage has whitewashed walls with corners that curve at the edges, jade-green sash windows, a thick thatched roof that looks like a bad haircut just like the pub down the road, and a bright red door that gleams from its centre.
There’s a small dark grey van parked outside which I assume belongs to Marion, the owner who agreed to meetme here this morning to talk me through a few ‘quirks’ of the cottage, which I’m told has stood here for three generations. I’m a little bit late, probably due to my attempt at helping a stranger, but not late enough to be too apologetic. I’ve learned enough in life to realise that these things happen. A few minutes either side of an agreed time isn’t worth sweating about.
I park up, thankful that the rain from earlier has subsided even though huge, cauliflower-shaped clouds hang low, threatening to burst their banks with snow, and then I leave Max in the car to go to greet my host.
‘You must be Charlie! Welcome to Seaview Cottage,’ she calls to me when she opens the red front door. ‘Come in, come in. Let me show you around. Thank goodness I lit the fire earlier. You’re soaked through, my love.’
I walk up the narrow gravel pathway that runs between two wild gardens on either side to meet my host. Judging by the smell of freshly baked bread and a crackling turf fire which fills my senses, she has been hard at work for my arrival. She is ruddy-faced with neat, bobbed silver hair. She wears a thick woolly jumper and a hearty smile that oozes warmth, which makes me feel at home instantly.
‘It’s Marion, isn’t it?’ I say and she nods. I extend my hand but she awkwardly offers an elbow touch instead. ‘You’ve no idea how much I’m looking forward to some time out here, just me, Max and the sweet sounds of nature. Thanks for squeezing me in.’
Marion looks very pleased with herself to own a place that ticks all the boxes I have in mind.
‘Well, Niall did give you a glowing review,’ she tells me. ‘I hope you’re doing OK? It’s not easy, I suppose. You’ve been through the wars, but you’re lucky to have a lifelong friend in Niall. He’s a very pleasant lad.’
My jaw drops just a little as I wonder what else Niall has told her to convince her to let me stay. Just like the woman with the broken-down car earlier, I notice her checking out my tattooed arms, my dishevelled mop of hair and rather casual attire. A T-shirt in this weather is far from ideal.
‘Yes, Niall and I have been buddies since our first day in playgroup, and that wasn’t today or yesterday.’
‘You’re not what I expected, I have to say,’ she quips, and I raise an eyebrow.
‘I hope that’s a good thing?’
‘Yes,’ she says with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Yes, it is. Niall said you were quiet and unassuming. I just had a different image in my head which reminds me how we shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but it’s a good thing, yes.’
‘Er, thank you … I think.’
She tucks a lock of silver hair behind her ear and holds my gaze just a second too long.
If I was on my usual form, I’d enjoy the possibility that she’s flirting with me. Maybe I don’t look too scruffy after all.
Marion springs back to life and leads me into the kitchen where I see a deep white Belfast sink, painted blue kitchen cupboards and, just as I’d thought, a tray of warm, freshly baked scones on a checked tea towel upon the table.
It’s like something from a movie.
‘This is … wow. This is cosy.’
‘It is,’ she says, squeezing her hands together as she admires her handiwork. ‘And it’s not everyone I’d allow here off season, but when Niall told me all about you, I just couldn’t say no.’
‘Oh?’
‘But never mind all that. Now, let me run you through what you need to know for your stay. It’s an old cottage but all its faculties are working apart from a few quirks I mentioned to you on the phone,’ she continues. ‘For example, the back door needs a mighty tug to get it shut but I’ll show you how. There are some hiking boots and a rucksack in the back porch if you fancy a ramble. There’s a hot tub out the back. Oh, and the heating … well, you need to press the heating button at least three times to get it going. If that doesn’t work just give it a thump.’
I raise my eyebrows.
‘Not too much of a thump, but you know what I mean, I hope,’ she says, glancing at my arms again. Her eyes linger again, longer than they probably should. ‘OK, yes, where was I? Oh yes, the garden. There’s a little gate at the bottom of the garden that leads into a wonderful forest walk which is a delight at this time of year. Now, the garden is secure, but there are a few gaps in the hedge that could be negotiated with a bit of exploration, so mind the dog if he likes to roam.’
‘That he does.’
