Page 36 of The Gin Sisters' Promise

Suddenly, a little terrier raced out of an open gate, barking like a wolf. He nipped at Nola’s ankle and snagged her skin with his sharp little teeth. Nola screamed, jumped backwards and dropped the two bags of shopping. There was no sign of the dog’s owner and so there was nothing for it, Nola reckoned, but to leave the bags and jump out of the dog’s way before he did any more damage. The nearest thing to her was a huge off-road Defender, muddy and dusty, but needs must and she clambered quickly, if not very elegantly, onto its bonnet before the blasted dog decided to take another bite.

The dog stood on the pavement, growling and daring her to touch ground again so he could bite her once more. She was examining her leg. Two small puncture wounds marked where he’d sunk his teeth, when Aiden Barry turned out of the piano shop and stopped to look at her. Why did he have to show up at the worst possible moment? If she hadn’t been in pain and scared stiff to get down off the jeep’s hood, perhaps she might have seen the funny side of it. When she saw his lips twitch into something that looked like it might be a smile, she felt burning incandescent rage soar through her. She wanted to flounce off without a backward glance, but the dog was still eyeing her dangerously.

‘Don’t you dare laugh at me,’ she said crossly.

‘I wouldn’t,’ he said, lifting the dog up and depositing him inside a nearby gate and then closing it firmly behind him.Bloody typical, Nola thought,he’s even training the dogs of Ballycove to hate me.‘Now, did he get you?’ he asked, lifting her easily off the bonnet despite her protests.

‘Actually, yes, he did.’ She scowled at the dog, which now had the nerve to look as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

‘Ara – sure that’s nothing.’ Aiden bent to pick up her bags that had spilled across the path. ‘It looks like you have more damage done to your shopping,’ he said, looking at the trail of milk draining along the path.

‘I’ll need a tetanus shot, at the very least. What kind of person has a dog that—’

‘Oh, don’t be such a drama queen.’ He sighed, opening the door of the jeep she’d been sitting on and throwing the one bag that seemed to have survived the crash intact on the back seat.

‘Come on, we’ll go back into the supermarket, get you a dry bag and a fresh carton of milk,’ he said, walking ahead of her so that she found herself limping as quickly as she could behind him to keep up.

‘I think I turned my bloody ankle too,’ she groaned, although she had a feeling he wasn’t listening. She stood at the counter while Aiden unpacked her shopping bag. She was glad there was nothing too embarrassing in there and then he flew about the aisles replacing what had been broken.

‘There you go, as good as new,’ he said, wiping the spilled milk off a jar of olives and setting it on top of the rest of her shopping. Then he was stalking out ahead of her and back towards his car while she paid for the milk and stuffed the receipt she didn’t want into her purse. He was sitting in his jeep waiting for her when she limped back up the footpath. ‘Well, do you want a lift or not?’ he asked when she stopped beside the jeep.

‘Sure.’ She climbed into the front. It was everything she’d have expected, if she’d given any time to thinking of what Aiden Barry might drive. It was rough and functional, littered with dog’s hair and an overhanging smell of cut grass and some sort of astringent aroma that she couldn’t quite put a name to.

‘So, how are you finding being back in Ballycove?’ he asked her as they sped out of the village.

‘It’s fine, you know…’ What did he expect? ‘It hasn’t really changed that much.’

‘And of course, you were in such a rush to get away.’ He smiled wryly.

She turned sharply. ‘What’s so funny?’ she demanded.

‘Nothing,’ he said, keeping his eyes on the road. ‘Have you left the house at all, apart from trying to get killed every other time I run into you?’

‘Of course I have.’ She looked out the window. ‘I’m teaching drama in the school and—’

‘Yes, but have you actually gone down to the local pub and met people your own age?’

‘Well, no, I’m not sure that the pub is exactly my scene anymore,’ she said because she hadn’t actually stood in a pub in years. In fact, when she thought about it now, she hadn’t been out to relax and socialise in as long as she could remember – her life had become little more than a trudge from her flat to the café and constantly waiting for a call that never came from her agent.

‘Oh, Isee. Too good for Ballycove – is that it?’ His eyes darted sidewise at her, but his voice was deadpan.

‘No. Of course that’s not it.’ She took a deep, calming breath to stop herself from rising to whatever bait he was dangling before her. ‘That’s not it at all. I just…’ She let her words falter. ‘I’ve just been too busy and anyway…’ Why was she so against the idea? She supposed because she didn’t actually know anyone in Ballycove – there was no-one to meet up with and have a drink and a laugh with.

‘I’m sure there are still lots of people around that you’d remember from when you lived here,’ he said as if reading her thoughts.

‘I don’t know, I’d say most of the people I knew back then are long gone,’ she said softly. ‘And if they’re not, they’re probably bogged down with husbands and kids and terrifying bloody dogs that snap when you pass their door.’ They both laughed at that.

‘Well, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we?’ he said as they rounded the main gates into Soldier Hill House.

‘See about what exactly?’ Nola asked, but she wasn’t really interested in what he was saying; instead she was looking at Iris putting the final strokes of paint to the door of the little gatekeeper’s cottage as they passed by before heading up the avenue to the main house. A little dash of guilt rose up in Nola. A woman in Iris’s condition should be resting and not putting a house together. Mind you, she looked surprisingly fit all things considered.

‘That’s coming on well,’ Aiden said beside her and he looked in his rear-view mirror to get a better view. ‘Iris was always a goer, wasn’t she?’ He was right of course: her sister had never been afraid of hard work and signs were on the gate lodge now. The progress took Nola by surprise. She hadn’t passed the gate lodge in weeks, choosing instead to take the more direct walking route along the lane to the village. It looked as if it had been taken in hand by an army of conservationists and been brought back to its charming, quirky best almost overnight.

‘Yes, she’s worked really hard on it. She’s planning to let it out as a self-catering cottage,’ Nola said and the pride in her voice surprised her, because she couldn’t ever remember feeling anything but resentment for either of her sisters for so long. Then, they were pulling up at the back of the house before she could say much more.

‘So that’s settled,’ he said as he dropped the shopping carefully on the doorstep for her.

‘Huh?’ she asked. She was barely out of the jeep by the time he’d swung back in and thrown the gear stick into reverse.

‘Friday night, I’ll pick you up after nine.’

‘What?’ she said, but it was too late; he was already turning the jeep around and driving out of the yard before she had a chance to figure out what he was talking about.

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