by Mary Malone
Greg pulled free from Kieran’s clutches, startling her out of her daydream and scurrying past her towards the front door. By the time she and Kieran had followed him outside he was sitting on his bike, helmet fastened and ready to go. Relieved to leave the smell of cremated food behind, she locked up the house and joined the boys.
The trio made their way to the corner of Pier Road and turned left on to Main Street, Greg pushing hard on the pedals so he didn’t have to dismount on the slope. Jess and Kieran fell into an easy step as they escorted the young – and weaving – cyclist. Despite the upheaval of Greg’s tumble and a wrecked dinner, the evening was surpassing Jess’s expectation. It made a pleasant change from the dull existence her life had become. But the voice of conscience forced its way into her head, issued its warning loud and clear. Don’t obsess, don’t allow his presence to consume or dictate every decision. Despite Kieran’s protestations that he was ready to settle down in Pier Road, his love of the wanderlust lifestyle lurked firmly underneath. What would happen when the twelve-month period was exhausted? Anybody’s guess, she decided, putting her hand to the back of Greg’s bicycle saddle and giving him an extra push to help him on the incline. He turned to her for a brief second and gave her a mischievous grin. His eyes were bright. He looked more elated than ever before, standing up from the saddle to push the pedals harder so he’d make it to the top of the hill without dismounting. Jess’s heart soared, the magic of the moment obliterating all else.
Taking a leaf from her son’s book, she focused ahead, willing the past to fade and eventually disappear and allow them the chance to breathe easy for a change. She wouldn’t look too far into the future, wouldn’t get carried away with how much she was enjoying Kieran’s company, and would simply do her best to live one day at a time and enjoy the unexpected gift of friendship that had come her way.
Now, she thought, breaking into a jog to catch up with a very wobbly Greg, all I have to do is ignore – or at the very least control – the uncontrollable, teenage-like heat bubbling inside me every time I’m within arm’s length of the man next door!
Chapter 15
Unknown to Kieran as he tucked into fish and chips, he was the main topic of conversation in a telephone call between his sisters.
“Do you think Kieran will take off again and relinquish his claim to Aunt Polly’s?” Beth asked.
“I don’t think he’s going to give in. From what Mum says he’s determined to stick it out.”
“So contesting the will is my, I mean our, only hope of getting a share?”
Charlotte sighed. “To be honest, sis, I don’t feel as strongly as you about doing that. In my opinion, it was gifted to him and tough luck on us.”
“But why should he get everything? Kieran disappeared for years, barely acknowledged Polly, didn’t even respond when I told him she was dying,” Beth insisted.
“But the few times he was home, he spent time with her. And he was thousands of miles away, it wasn’t like he could pop home whenever the notion took him,” Charlotte defended her brother. “The same could be said for me, and not only since I left Ireland. I was the world’s worst visitor even when I lived a couple of miles over the road. I’m not in a position to cast aspersions!”
“Your situation is different. Even Polly knew that it wasn’t easy for you to make a trip home. But I spelt it out to him in black and white, told him she hadn’t much time, and still he never bothered, despite how close they’d been. Yet he’s the one standing to gain everything now, just because he took refuge there as a rowdy teenager. And don’t tell me that was to keep her company.”
“You’re being unfair, Beth,” Charlotte accused. “He genuinely cared. And he brightened up her life immensely. She was forever alluding to that.”
“He ran wild in Schull. Remember? Staying there suited him as much as her.” Beth closed her eyes as she waited for Charlotte’s reply, her lengthening pause difficult to decipher. Was her sister going to acquiesce or refuse?
“Let me think about it a while longer. Maybe I should take a trip home. Time-zones and cross-Atlantic phone lines aren’t the easiest way to negotiate something as intricate as this if we do decide to go ahead.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that. Backing me up will be enough.”
“I’m still not sure about it though. And have you thought about what’s involved in contesting a will?”
“Can’t say I’m very au fait to be honest. Are you?”
“Not really, but I imagine it’d take a significant amount of time and probably money too, particularly if you have to engage a solicitor to act on your behalf.”
“You’re really not convinced about this, are you?” Beth sighed.
Torn by the desperation in her sister’s voice, Charlotte found it difficult to refuse outright. “It wouldn’t be an overnight resolution, Beth. These things take persistence and patience, lots of it.”
Beth’s despondency intensified. “Well, I won’t be able to do it alone. Having both of us on board would make all the difference.”
“Perhaps if I speak to Kieran and test the waters? Who knows what his plans are!”
“I don’t know. What if –”
“I think we should talk to him – both of us – before doing anything – to see if there’s another way of resolving this. For all we know he may already be thinking of leaving and then your worrying will have been in vain. It comes to us then anyway.”
“I haven’t the guts to broach the subject.”
“But he’s your brother.”
“I know. But if he says ‘no’, that’s it then, the door is closed.”
Changing the subject, Charlotte enquired if Beth had given any more thought to her suggestions on making the land surrounding her house earn an income.
“I have put some work into it, whether it’s up to standard or not remains to be seen. Anything’s better than sitting around full of self-pity.”
“Well done,” her sister encouraged. “You’ve nothing to lose and it could surprise you and go a bit of the way towards household bills.”
“I hope you’re right, Charlotte.”
“What have you got to lose?” Charlotte asked, their conversation a stark reminder of the difference in their lives and the reason Beth was so desperate for money.
“I suppose you’re right,” she conceded. “I’ll have to run it by Carl though and I’m not looking forward to that.”
Charlotte struggled to remain calm, her brother-in-law’s lazy attitude a major source of irritation for her. “Well, if he says ‘no’, ask him what he has in mind instead! Be firm.”
“And you’ll still think about the inheritance like you promised?”
“Of course. But I think we’d need Dad on board, seeing as he’s officially her next of kin,” Charlotte warned before hanging up.
Staring at the computer screen, Beth studied what she had done so far.
Charlotte will laugh at my efforts to create a website, she thought, inserting a section on location, following the instructions in her sister’s email.
She bit her lower lip and stared through the window, looking critically at the panoramic view and attempting to see it from a stranger’s perspective. Goleen was remotely located, a couple of hours’ drive from the city and poorly serviced by public transport. Would she be relying solely on locals?
“Can’t see how people are going to travel this far,” she mumbled.
Time would tell, she decided, her spirits brightening as she remembered how popular the area was with tourists in the summer months. Bringing her attention back to the screen, she saved her work, relieved that she had at least made a start.
“Talking to yourself?”
Swivelling around, Beth blushed. Carl was standing behind her, arms folded across his chest. She hadn’t heard him enter the room, didn’t know how long he’d been standing there.
“I don’t see anyone else here, do you?” Her response was sharper than she’d intended.
&nbs
p; His expression darkened. “It was only an observation, no need to take the head off me!”
She turned back to the computer screen, keeping her back to her husband as she took the opportunity to update him.
“Charlotte thinks we could rent out the stables and paddocks and maybe set up some sort of dirt track for quad-bikes, at least make an income from the land seeing as we can’t sell it. We could rent out the barn too as a venue for events.”
Unable to see his face to assess his reaction, Beth waited for a response, expecting it to be negative.
“Quad-bikes? An interesting suggestion, I suppose. Although we’d need proper course boundaries. I could try one out, to get a few ideas.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Beth admitted.
“If it’s not properly set up, it would be mayhem, with people crashing into each other head on. And probably suing us into the bargain!”
His enthusiasm surprised her. She’d expected indifference or objection. It was a relief he wasn’t averse to the suggestion.
“What about renting the stables and maybe fencing off a few paddock areas?” she continued.
“We don’t have any use for them so why not? But won’t we be expected to have some sort of industrial insurance?”
Beth tensed as he moved closer, his distinctive cologne sending an unexpected shiver down her spine. Not now, she pleaded with her body. Don’t go all gooey for him, just because he’s being nice to you this once. Suppressing her feelings, she tilted the screen towards him. “This is the website, a draft of the Home Page. It’s still a work in progress but it’s a start I suppose. What do you think?”
“Not bad for a first draft, has a decent amount of info. But it won’t get any attention without photographs.”
Her stomach somersaulted, his praise sending a rush of heat through her. She swallowed hard.
“I’ll take a few photos in daylight tomorrow,” he offered, scrolling to the next page. “Add my mobile number to the contact details if you like.”
She kept her eyes on the screen and forced her mind to remain on the website. “What about the ring fort? Charlotte mentioned it as a type of tourist attraction. What do you think?”
He crouched down and pulled the keyboard towards him, adding a line of text, correcting a typo and inserting his mobile number before pressing save. “We could add a bit of history and background detail, maybe upload an audio onto the site. Visiting Americans would love it.”
Beth moved her chair to put more distance between them, his proximity far too unsettling. “You’re not against it so?”
“Of course not. What do you take me for?” Noticing the time on the computer screen, he got to his feet. “I’m heading to work. I’ll get the photos taken for the website and then link the address on Facebook and Twitter.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll get on to some of the newspapers and see if they’ll give us a mention.”
“Talk to you tomorrow then.”
For the first time in a while, she didn’t breathe a sigh of relief when the front door banged behind him. Remaining in front of the computer for a while longer, she swivelled gently on her chair and thought about what had just happened. Had her body reacted to the scent of his aftershave? It had been so long since they’d shared a civil conversation . . . or anything else civil or intimate for that matter. Imagining him sweeping her slight frame into his strong arms, his fingers trailing every inch of her bare skin and her savouring a deep exploration of his body before he finally penetrated her, two bodies joined as one, two minds – she jumped with fright when the front door opened, her cheeks already flushed with excitement. Had he felt it too? Is that why he’d returned? Would fantasy become reality?
“Forget something?” she asked when he came in.
“Forgot to ask if you’d made the lodgements to Ed’s account? I’ll give him a call and let him know this month’s covered. Oh, and don’t forget he wants to see you.”
It was as if he’d poured cold water over her, instantly dampening the flushes of pleasure she’d been experiencing, the lustful images she’d been imagining disappearing in a puff of smoke. Mortified that she’d been such a fool yet again, she turned to face him, convinced she’d imagined their short reprieve from battle.
“Have you organised a plumber?” she shot back before answering his question.
And in one fleeting moment they’d reverted to sniping at each other.
“There’s a guy calling later.”
His look of annoyance didn’t escape her.
“And how’re we going to pay for that?” she asked.
Carl gritted his teeth. “I’m doing a few jobs for him on his car in exchange.” Talented under the bonnet of a car, he could work miracles on even the most complex engine. “If that project works out, it’ll help us keep on top of Ed’s payments.”
Beth couldn’t control her outburst, the intense anti-climax fuelling her anger. “Good,” she muttered ungraciously.
“The lodgements?” he asked again, dark eyes boring into hers, his defiance evident.
Beth held back her tears. “I don’t have anything to lodge. You’ll have to tell Ed the truth, explain why the vineyard isn’t bringing in an income.”
Carl glanced at his watch. “I haven’t time for this! I’ll be late for work. I won’t upset Ed, not now when his time is running out. You’ll get your wish soon enough when his life assurance clears the payments.”
Beth gasped, his cruel comment a sharp reminder of Ed’s arrival to their home. Opening the door to find Ed on the step of their Cork city rented accommodation had been a jaw-dropping moment for Beth, particularly as Carl had always insisted that Ireland and its old wives’ tales and quaint traditions would be a source of irritation for his fashion-designer, cosmopolitan brother. Paris, its culture and couture – according to Carl – coursed through the blood in Ed’s veins despite Irish parentage and spending the first ten years of his life in Dublin’s south side. Paris was as much a part of him as his fashion designing, the hub of the industry he adored, the location he vowed never to leave. Not realising death was already setting its trap, he’d regularly joked about his ashes being scattered throughout the greatest Parisian design centres and boutiques.
The day he’d turned up out of the blue at their home, Beth had stammered out a distracted welcome to the visibly aged and extremely ill gentleman on her doorstep. She figured the day of his impending death and scattering of ashes might be a lot sooner than any of them could have envisaged.
“But you’re quite prepared to upset me? Your family loyalties are selective to say the least!” She glared at her husband.
“That’s rich coming from you!”
Carl’s fascination with his much older brother both irritated and bemused Beth. Very often, she used this vulnerability as leverage, threatening to expose the damage Carl’s serious errors of judgement had caused. If she took Ed aside and filled in the gaps of the years he and Carl had been apart, their mutual admiration might become somewhat skewed and one-sided. At least Ed would know the full extent of their financial troubles and not assume incorrectly that they were in receipt of a hefty income from France.
“You’ll have to stop fabricating excuses,” she said. “Ed might surprise you if you tell him the truth. I can’t imagine it would matter very much to him now.”
But Carl was adamant, his pride more powerful than logic. “How many more times must I tell you, Beth? It’s not going to happen.”
Swaying between despair and fury, she spoke through gritted teeth. “Where am I supposed to get this so-called money to lodge? I collected my unemployment money, paid a meagre amount off the electricity bill, put some food in the fridge and there’s barely enough left for petrol for the week!” She shook her head. He’d been cosseted and spoilt all of his life, expecting bailout after bailout.
“Transfer some from the mortgage account if you have to,” he instructed coldly, before leaving the house again.
This time
Beth didn’t only breathe her usual sigh of relief when the door banged behind him. She let out a high-pitched scream of frustration. Additional earnings from quad-bikes or anything else would be a mere drop in the ocean if Ed’s failing business continued to drain their paltry income. Embarrassed and humiliated by the lecherous thoughts she’d been indulging in after her husband’s initial departure, furious that Carl still had the ability to arouse her deepest passions, she ran up the stairs and turned on the shower, tears coursing down her cheeks as she suffered the intermittent change in water temperature, the instant fluctuation from hot to cold too close a reminder of her crashing descent from exhilaration to disappointment.
Chapter 16
Kieran yawned widely. He’d slept soundly, woken early by the sound of squawking gulls, a morning call he was regaining affinity with since his return to Pier Road. Arms behind his head, he contemplated the day ahead. He’d promised Greg he’d kick a ball with him in the park. He’d promised Jess he’d join her for lunch – she’d invited him to make up for the spoiled spaghetti bolognese and to prove that she had developed some culinary skills! At least he had cash in his wallet now he’d collected Aunt Polly’s pension. He’d buy Jess a nice box of chocolates and pick up a comic for Greg.