The Transatlantic Book Club

by Felicity Hayes-McCoy

  Brad held out his hand. ‘So do I. And perhaps, when we do, you’ll be prepared to give the accompanying talk? You’re clearly more than competent. And, obviously, we’d offer a suitable fee.’

  It was charmingly said yet, without knowing why, Hanna stiffened. Then, not wanting Cassie to feel that things had taken a difficult turn, she relaxed. ‘As I said, the decision on whether or not to give private access wouldn’t be mine alone. You do know that groups can book in for our regular exhibition tours, which are hosted by volunteers?’

  ‘Of course.’ Brad shook her hand warmly and tucked his arm into Cassie’s. ‘And I’ve no doubt they’re top of the range. But I’m all about exclusivity and, I have to tell you, Miss Casey, I never settle for less.’

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Cassie waited on the library steps while Brad said goodbye to Hanna. As she glanced across the courtyard, a woman emerged from the side gate that led to the nuns’ garden and bustled purposefully towards the steps. It was Mary Casey. Assuming she’d come to meet Hanna, Cassie stood aside to let her in. Brad had joined her on the steps and, as they stood there side by side, Mary looked up at them with interest. ‘Well, if it isn’t the two of you here again! Another chance encounter?’

  The archness in her voice irritated Cassie but Brad seemed amused. ‘Good to see you again, Mrs Casey. How are things?’

  ‘I didn’t know you were still hanging around.’

  Hanna, who’d overheard, moved to join them. ‘Cassie brought Mr Miller here to meet me, Mam. About work. If you’ll come inside and sit down I’ll be ready to drive you home soon.’

  ‘I’ve just been over the road with Pat.’ Mary looked meaningfully at Cassie. ‘She said you’d be finished work by lunchtime.’

  ‘I’m going home now.’

  ‘Well, go quietly, she was on her way to bed when I came out.’

  Having managed to suggest that Cassie’s neglect had driven Pat to her bed, Mary surged up the steps and into the library. Hanna touched Cassie on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about Pat. I saw her earlier on and she looked fine.’

  Reminding herself that Mary was Hanna’s mother, Cassie said nothing. The effort it took must have shown on her face because Hanna laughed. ‘You’re fond of my mother, remember? She’s “feisty”.’

  Cassie caught her eye and grinned. ‘And sometimes she’s really annoying.’

  ‘Tell me about it!’ Giving her a cheerful wink, Hanna went back indoors.

  Brad, who’d been watching the exchange, took Cassie’s elbow. ‘So, how about I take you out to dinner to say thanks?’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For the introduction.’

  ‘Well, I ought to look in on Pat.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Pat’s probably exhausted after an afternoon with Mary. There’s a good chance she retreated just to get rid of her.’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘Why not scoot over now and check things out? If you need to stay, that’s no problem. If not, I’ll buy you a meal in Ballyfin. Unless you already had plans for this evening?’

  After her rushed day the prospect of a relaxing dinner was tempting. So, having checked on Pat, who said she’d like an evening in bed with a book and a cosy hot-water bottle, Cassie decided to take up Brad’s offer. Even though he’d seemed less charmed by the psalter than she’d been, she still felt they were two of a kind. When they’d scrambled down from the tower in Mullafrack, he’d stopped on the hillside and stared out at the ocean. ‘Don’t you think it’s incredible? That you’ve actually been beyond that horizon? Seen night skies with different constellations? That you’ve stared down at churning waves and known that your ship was crossing the equator, and that you were on it? Carried away to the next adventure with nothing to hold you back?’

  It had been such a perfect description of her own feelings that Cassie, who had stopped beside him, had laughed out loud. The next thing she’d known, he’d grabbed her hand and they’d plunged down the hillside together, yelling, earth and shale sliding and crunching beneath their skidding heels. Birds had flown up from the spiky yellow furze bushes and, for a steep hundred yards or so, she had felt as if she, too, was flying. All around them, the high hills seemed to throw back the exuberant sound of their voices. Then they’d ended up, gasping for breath and weak with laughter, hanging over a five-barred gate, which had stopped their headlong descent.

  Now, as she drove back to Ballyfin with Brad’s car behind her, Cassie, who had planned a chat with Erin this evening, assured herself that her call wouldn’t be missed. The breakup with Jeff was history, and lately Erin had found a new boyfriend, called Diego. Most likely they’d be out learning dynamic new skills together or sipping exotic cocktails from a single glass. Fond though Cassie was of her, the smoochy shots Erin kept posting on Instagram were getting boring. Or irritating. Or something. Anyway, even if Erin did happen to be home to take her call, she didn’t fancy hearing any more Diego stories for a while.

  When they reached the hotel in Ballyfin she assumed they’d park and find a place to have dinner somewhere in town. Instead, Brad suggested they order room service. ‘I’ve got a room with a balcony and a great ocean view.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘We can eat outside and watch the sunset.’

  Feeling slightly wary, Cassie followed him into the lift. Hotel rooms offered as freebies to people in the industry tended to be round the back overlooking the kitchen entrance, while those with ocean views were all at the front and at the top. As the lift doors closed, Brad pressed the button for the sixth floor and, when they reached it, led her down a corridor into a room that did indeed have a wide, railed balcony, reached by sliding doors. Tossing his car keys onto the bed, Brad said he’d order a bottle of wine. ‘We can decide what to eat later. Go check out the view.’

  Cassie went onto the balcony, which faced the setting sun. The sky was a riot of deep blue clouds edged with streaks of burnished gold, which reminded her of the psalter. But most of her attention was on the room behind her. It was a double room with a king-size bed and space for a sofa and a coffee-table in front of the wide-screen TV. As she’d gone to the balcony she’d noticed that the en-suite bathroom was huge, with a bath as well as a walk-in shower. Far below in the marina, she could see the newly docked cruise ship. It seemed very odd, with all those passengers booked for a night in the hotel, that the management would have allowed Brad to stay in this fabulous room.

  He came out and joined her at the balcony rail. ‘Finfarran really is stunning, don’t you think? I mean, everywhere you go. Lissbeg is cute, Ballyfin’s like some kind of a movie set, and the mountains and the beaches are fantastic. I can see myself spending a lot more time over here.’

  ‘You mean vacations?’

  There was a knock at the door and a waiter arrived with the wine in an ice bucket. Cassie, who recognised him from brief encounters at the staff entrance, was about to exchange a few words of conversation, but Brad just gave him a casual nod and placed a tip on the tray. The waiter gave a slight bow in acknowledgement, and left at once. Taking the glass of wine that Brad handed her, Cassie decided she needed to get things straight. She swallowed a mouthful and faced him squarely. ‘Okay. I’m sorry, but this is really strange.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘You work for a cruise line, right? And you set up tours?’

  ‘That’s me.’

  ‘And the management here just hands you the key to a fancy room like this?’

  Putting his glass on the table, Brad leaned forward and kissed her on the nose.

  Cassie glared. ‘What the hell was that about?’

  ‘You look awfully sweet when you’re confused.’

  Cassie held his eyes for a moment, then threw up her hand. ‘Oh, look, I’m out of here. This is way too weird.’

  ‘Cassie, come on, wait a minute. There’s a simple explanation.’

  She pushed past him into the bedroom, set down her glass, and grabbed her bag. ‘Is there? Really? Well,
you know what? I don’t want to hear it. Thanks for the dinner invitation. I’m going home.’

  She thought he might try to stop her but instead he took up his glass again and leaned against the open balcony door. Everything about him was so relaxed that Cassie found herself spoiling for a fight. This was exactly like the night they’d been out on Paul’s boat. She could have sworn that day that Brad had wanted to ask her for a date. She’d even wasted her time trying to work out how she’d feel. But he hadn’t asked her. Instead he’d crashed her boat trip with Paul and Margot, and left her wondering what was going on. Then, as they’d all sat watching the stunning sunset, he’d put his arm around her. And later, when they’d said goodbye, he’d kissed her. Afterwards she’d told herself the wind had been cold on the water and the kiss could just have been to say goodnight. But the truth was that she hadn’t known what to think. That was the thing. You couldn’t tell where you were with Bradley Miller. When they’d met at the St Patrick’s Day parade he’d been so laid back he was practically horizontal. At the tower in Mullafrack he’d been strange, and she’d wondered if he was laughing at her. And then there’d been that headlong dash down the ringing, echoing hillside when their yells had seemed to fill the valley and birds had flown up in alarm.

  Now he raised his eyebrows and said the last thing she’d expected. ‘Who’s Jack?’

  ‘Jack?’

  ‘Yeah. You mentioned him to Hanna, back at the library.’

  ‘He’s someone I happen to know. What’s it to you?’

  ‘Nothing. I just wondered.’ He pushed himself away from the door and pulled a rueful face. ‘Look, you’re right. I haven’t been straight with you. But I haven’t lied. My name is Bradley Miller, Bradley Miller Junior. I work for Your World Awaits, which is a small but very exclusive US cruise line. My job involves conceptualising the packages we offer . . .’

  He stopped, and Cassie glared at him. ‘Well, go on.’

  ‘But it also involves sitting on the board of directors. Because, as it happens, the cruise line belongs to my dad.’

  ‘Your dad?’

  ‘Bradley Miller Senior. So there you have it.’

  Swallowing the remains of his wine, he went out onto the balcony to pour himself another. Fizzing with indignation, Cassie followed him. ‘But why didn’t you say? For God’s sake, what did you think you were doing? Playing at being a prince disguised as a swineherd?’

  ‘No. I just . . .’

  ‘Just what?’

  ‘Oh, God. It’s hard to explain. Well, no, actually, it isn’t. When girls know you’re rich, they can act funny. So mostly I don’t mention it.’

  About to expostulate again, Cassie stopped and thought, actually, that was fair enough. Surely it would have been twice as weird if he’d introduced himself as a millionaire? Which she supposed he must be. He offered her the bottle and, still trying to make sense of things, she picked up her glass and held it out to him. Then her indignation swelled again. ‘And you thought I might “act funny” if I knew how much you were worth?’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t tell, could I? In the beginning. And then, when I found it mattered, I wasn’t sure what to do.’

  He didn’t move towards her and his dark eyes were unfathomable. Cassie lost her temper. ‘Oh, stop being enigmatic! What the hell do you mean?’

  Suddenly, his assurance seemed to slip from him like a mask. Underneath it, to her surprise, she could see naked vulnerability.

  ‘I mean that I really like you. A lot. And I didn’t know how you were going to react when you found out who I was.’

  ‘Yes, but I haven’t, have I?’

  ‘Haven’t what?’

  ‘Found out who you are. I mean, I know you’re the prince, not the swineherd, but that doesn’t tell me much.’

  Behind him, out above the ocean, the golden edges of the darkening clouds were beginning to turn scarlet. Dimly aware that the setting was now ridiculously romantic, Cassie focused again on Brad’s face. As Sharon had said, he really was quite a looker. But now the regular features, golden tan, and movie-star teeth seemed unimportant. What mattered was the helpless look in his eyes. He truly didn’t know how she was going to react and, just then, neither did she. Then she realised how badly she wanted to kiss him. Carefully, she placed her glass on the table. ‘I’ll tell you what.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We needn’t turn this into some big drama. We could just take it slowly, step by step.’

  He didn’t move and it was she who took the first step towards him. Then the helpless look faded and he smiled. Their hands clasped, just as they’d done on the hillside, and Cassie felt that, together, they could launch themselves into the air and fly. Reaching up, she drew his head down to hers. It was a long kiss and when she let him go they were both laughing, balanced on the edge of something yet to be defined. Brad took her by the elbows. ‘Step by step?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘So what happens now?’

  Linking her arms around his neck, she backed away, drawing him with her into the room behind them. ‘This is just a suggestion, okay? Work with me.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘I say we take the rest of the wine to your glamorous, king-size bed.’

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Pat decided not to bother making herself any dinner. Mary had arrived for lunch with a quiche, which they’d eaten with salad, and around four o’clock they’d had tea and buns. So, when Mary left to catch her lift home from Hanna, and Cassie looked in to say she’d be out for the evening, Pat took a bowl of soup to her room on a tray. She assumed Cassie would be eating with Brad as, apparently, they’d just been into the library to look at the psalter.

  She carried the soup upstairs carefully and enjoyed it sitting up against her pillows with the tray balanced on her knees. Then she put it aside and turned her attention to Thomas Hardy. The book opened at a poem she’d never liked much. It was supposed to be about ‘keen lessons’ Hardy had learned about love, but he must have wanted to keep it unemotional, because he’d called it ‘Neutral Tones’. That reminded Pat of Ger, always playing the strong, silent man but actually churned up inside. Adjusting her glasses, she read a verse aloud.

  ‘Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove

  Over tedious riddles of years ago;

  And some words played between us to and fro

  On which lost the more by our love.’

  Well, there was nothing neutral about that. He was saying that neither party had gained anything by loving each other. It was only a matter of who had lost the most. Strongly reminded of why she hadn’t liked the poem in the first place, Pat wondered if she might go back to The Case of the Late Pig. But she wasn’t inclined to. Despite what Seán had told her about detective stories, she couldn’t see that this one explored love or hate very deeply, never mind guilt, fear, greed, and lost opportunities. Anyway, it was obvious that the murderer was going to turn out to be mad, which felt like a cop-out. Most people who did terrible things to each other weren’t mad. The book in its lilac jacket lay on her bedside table, its two menacing birds flapping on the cover. There was a line in Hardy’s poem about a smile sweeping across someone’s face ‘like an ominous bird a-wing’. You had to hand it to poets, they had a great way with words. Still, thought Pat, she could do without riddles and lost love this evening and, although it was early, the soup had made her sleepy. Sliding farther down under the duvet, she gave up on books and thought again about Ger.

  When she was young there’d been no question of boys and girls going to school together. The Christian Brothers’ place up by the Sheep Market and the convent down in Broad Street had even been built at different ends of the town. The Brothers had had no garden and their brickwork was less ornate but, essentially, the ethos in the two schools had been the same. But while the nuns’ bullying of the girls was largely subtle, the Brothers’ emotional abuse of the boys was often compounded by fierce physical violence. At the time, it wasn’
t much talked about, and when it was, people often argued that farmers were frequently just as rough with their sons. Which was true enough, but didn’t change the damage it had wrought.

  Pat had no idea how badly Ger had been beaten at school, but she knew how much he’d feared violence, and how little he’d ever expected justice. The system that placed so high a value on Tom’s strength on the playing field had convinced Ger that weakness of any kind would be viewed as guilt. And in his view everyone in authority hung together, from the Brothers to the guards to the politicians and all the ranks of petty officials that strutted in between. So his instinct was to get through life by staying out of trouble, and never to show his emotions lest they’d somehow give him away. Admittedly, Frankie’s birth had released a passionate protectiveness, but that had been covert and inarticulate, like her own protectiveness of Ger, and Ger’s deep dependence on Tom.

  Unchanging and pathetic, Ger had clung to Tom, like a dog who isn’t wanted on a walk but won’t give up and go home. Pat had always known the reason why. Like Mary, Tom exuded confidence. That was why everyone said that Tom and Mary were made for each other. In fact, as Pat knew more than most, Mary’s air of certainty concealed a vulnerability almost as deep as Ger’s. But back when they were teenagers, Mary had been the sexiest girl in town. Once the gloss of her youth had worn off, not every man would have coped well with her bossiness. Ger, for example, wouldn’t have coped at all. But Tom had loved Mary for who she was as much as for who she pretended to be, just as Pat had always been able to read Ger’s feelings like a book.

  Wriggling her toes against the cooling hot-water bottle, her sleepy mind sought to define the past. Eventually, as she slipped off to sleep, she encompassed one part of it in a sentence. Tom’s protectiveness of Ger had come from an inherent gentleness, while her own had come from a painful sense of how badly Ger had been hurt.