Page 18 of One More Day
‘That’s that sorted then. He’s on his way here now,’ Sean tells me with a wide smile that shows his slightly yellowing tombstone teeth. ‘You’ll never believe it, but he was in townalready getting something for dinner at the butcher’s. He was at the till when he took the call, so he’ll be here in under a minute.’
‘Thank you. That was speedy.’
‘We may be easy-going around here, but when it comes to helping each other, we always go the extra mile, pardon the pun,’ he says. ‘Now, I don’t want to get your hopes up, but if Rusty Quinn can’t fix your car, then no one can—’
‘Rusty Quinn? Did – did you say Rusty Quinn?’
‘I did, my dear, yes.’
‘Aren’t there any other mechanics around here?’
‘You know him?’ asks Sean in surprise, then his face changes. ‘You don’t look like a local if you don’t mind me saying. We don’t see fancy frocks like that around here very often, and I assumed with the Dublin car registration that you—’
‘I’m not local, no. Well, I am in a way but I’m originally from—’
And then it’s too late.
The bell jingles above the door to announce we have company and Rusty’s mouth drops open when he sees me. I can barely meet his eyes as my cheeks flush.
‘You didn’t get too far, did you, Rosebud?’ he says, giving me a cheeky smile, and my heart stings a little. I haven’t been addressed by my childhood nickname in a very long time and it hits me with a blast of nostalgia.
‘Not to worry,’ he says with a wink. ‘We’ll get it sorted. Give me the keys and I’ll go take a look.’
‘So, this is the dog you mentioned in your email to me?’ Rusty says on his return a few moments later.
His gravelly voice soothes me instantly.
‘We didn’t get a proper introduction earlier at the cottage. I never thought you were the dog type?’ he says, sitting down.
He tilts his head to the side as if he’s seeing me properly now, like our earlier meeting at the cottage was all a blur or didn’t really happen. I tug my dress over my knees and sit up straight.
‘Neither did I, but people change,’ I say, meeting his eyes with trepidation. I feel my lip quiver and my legs go weak as my mind goes back in time. ‘We can all change, Rusty, can’t we?’
He bites his lip and nods slowly, then looks away. I swear I see his eyes glisten beneath his oil-covered navy baseball cap.
‘We can, love, but only if we need to and only if we want to,’ he says when he looks back at me again. His familiar eyes tug at my lonely heart. ‘Some of us are simply unique, and it would be a sin for someone with a heart like yours to ever change.’
‘Thank you.’ My voice cracks.
‘How’ve you been? You know, I couldn’t guess how many times I’ve been meaning to call you but—’
‘You’re my cousin, Rusty, not my keeper. Life goes on, eh?’ I whisper, recalling how many people have said that to me since Michael died. ‘I’m coping, I guess. It’s just Christmas that gets me right by the throat and pins me to the ground,so I figure I’m best on my own instead of being like a damp squib around others.’
He shakes his head and holds my eye.
‘It’s OK to ask for help, Rose,’ he tells me, with his own voice breaking a little too. ‘We all need a little help sometimes. I’ve always told you to call on me anytime you needed to. In fact, my heart lifted when I saw your email and you asked to stay in the cottage, but then … Anyhow now, about the car …’
‘Look, I don’t want to get you into any trouble, Rusty,’ I say. ‘I shouldn’t have come here. It was typical of me. Whimsical and romantic, thinking that coming here to be alone would be better than another Christmas in Dublin away from it all. I was wrong. It’s not meant to be.’
Rusty leans forward as I speak, resting his elbows on the table, and I smell a waft of tobacco mixed with mint which instantly takes me back to my childhood. He looks like my dad did, back in the day.
‘I know how much you love it here.’
I take a deep breath.
‘I really do.’
‘And I wish I could offer you a room for the night at our house … but things aren’t good at home and that’s putting it mildly.’
