Page 5 of One More Day
I can’t do it. I don’t deserve to.
I kick off my high heels and slump onto the sofa where George joins me, snuggling in as he always does.
‘I think I did a good job tonight, George,’ I tell my one true companion. ‘And now it’s just me and you, old pal. Me and you with the curtains shut and with books and boxsets to keep us entertained.’
I should probably go to bed but instead I switch on the TV only to be greeted by a chirpy, attractive woman on a beach. She’s dressed in a bikini and a Santa hat and sheholds a delicious cocktail as she gushes about winter sun holidays.
CouldIjet off to the sun like Carlos suggested?
No. I would feel bad about leaving George behind, though the idea of packing up and heading off does have a strong appeal right now.
Wecouldgo somewhere closer, couldn’t we? I might not be able to just jump on a plane with a rescue dog who tends to pee on strangers’ legs, but I could go somewhere else in Ireland, just for a change of scenery.
And now I’m crying.
I miss Michael’s touch, and how safe I felt in his arms, his wise words that were always so poetic and reassuring. I miss how he used to whisper to me as I fell asleep, even if it was just for a few snatched hours before he had to leave me again for his work that took him all over the world.
He would tell me what to do for Christmas if he could.
‘Where could we go, George?’ I ask the sleeping dog beside me. He has the grace to cock up one ear at the sound of his own name even if he is lost in the land of slumber. ‘I bet you’d love a new beach to explore at this time of year, wouldn’t you? Or a forest to run around in? Somewhere we could shut off but still feel like we’re doing something for Christmas rather than lying around cooped up here? Somewhere like …’
A vision of a familiar cottage comes to my mind. It calls to me like an old friend, luring me closer, telling me I’d be happier there than here on my own in Dublin.
But no … I couldn’t.
I close my eyes to blank it out, but the image gets stronger. I know this cottage. I know it very well. I picture the secluded surroundings, the thatched roof that oozes tradition, its red front door through which I’d step into a cocoon of safety and joy. I can already feel the heat of the blazing fire. I can smell the smoky turf burning, its familiarity and warmth that hangs in the air.
Within seconds a burst of curiosity has me looking it up on my phone as if fate has taken over and I’ve no longer any self-control.
And there it is, right before my eyes, in all its glory.
Seaview Cottage: a cosy, pet-friendly hideaway, right by a pocket-sized luscious green forest but not far from the Atlantic Sea … Situated near the most idyllic picture-perfect village you could ever find, with chocolate-box surroundings and warmth like no other. Close to Fanad Lighthouse, sandy beaches and so much more. Comfort, seclusion and peace guaranteed.
My heart clenches when I see it and my weary mind is flooded with warm memories of days gone by when I’d spend stretches of summer there, hearing tales from my Granny Molly of her childhood days.
But then I read the small print.
‘Seaview Cottage is closed for Christmas,’ it says on the Airbnb page. ‘Sorry for any inconvenience. See you in springtime.’
Typical.
There are hundreds of similar properties scattered all over Ireland, so I search and search through variouswebsites, but each ‘dog friendly’ one I try is booked up, which makes my whimsical decision to just ‘get away from it all’ at the last minute suddenly feel farcical. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, after all. Or at least it is for everyone else.
I go back to the picture-perfect Seaview Cottage and stare at the screen again. It captivates me. It sneaks under my skin. It offers me a hug from afar.
‘Seaview Cottage is closed for Christmas,’ I read it aloud, so those last three words can sink in, but no, it’s not happening.
‘Rules are made to be broken, old George,’ I tell my sleeping dog. ‘And my motto has always been, “If you don’t ask then you don’t get.”’
I might sorely regret this in the morning, but there’s an urgent fire in my belly now. I want to go there more than anywhere else in the world. Seaview Cottage is far enough from my home village to stay out of the way of my family, yet near enough for a car journey to see them if I’m brave enough to make the trip with cap in hand at the last minute.
I could walk in the forest and on the beach with George. I could visit the nearby lighthouse and soothe my weary soul with its stunning views. I could have frothy hot chocolate in the cute little place that serves up the best pancakes with maple syrup and berries. I could bring bundles of books to read by the roaring fire. I could take some much-needed time out from the smog of the city to clear my mind, and who knows, maybe this will be the last Christmas I feel likeI should be alone? Maybe this is exactly what I need to do this year.
Before I can think too deeply about it all, I quickly scroll through my phone where I find an email address I haven’t used in a very long time. George groans beside me. I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or a bad one but I take it as a vote of encouragement. Then, without thinking any further on the subject, I begin to type.
It’s me, I write, even though I know it’s a bit late to be corresponding with anyone right now, especially out of the blue like this.
Look, I know this is crazy, and that you’re closed at this time of year for rentals … I also know I’m putting you in a very awkward position in more ways than one by asking … but I need to get away and there’s nowhere else available as I’ve left it totally last minute.
