by Ali McNamara
Ten
‘It can’t be much further,’ I tell Kiki as I peer through the windscreen.
We’re driving along the road that Jackie had informed us the house was on, I’m driving so slowly that I have to keep pulling over so cars can go around us, but I’m determined to find this house that from the lake had looked so perfect.
‘Perhaps you can’t see it from the road?’ Kiki says practically. ‘Perhaps it’s set back off a long drive, hidden in all these trees.’
‘Even if it is, there would have to be a driveway. What did Jackie call it – The Welcome House? It will probably have a nameplate.’
Kiki doesn’t look so hopeful as we crawl along the road, getting ever closer to the outskirts of Ballykiltara. Even though this old, twisty, turny road had been tarmacked and painted with white lines, it’s easy to imagine horses and carts trundling along it in years gone by.
I have to slow down to a complete standstill as a long line of ponies with young riders sitting confidently on top of them cross the road in front of us.
‘This must be the front entrance to the stables,’ I say absentmindedly, thinking about Finn.
‘What stables?’ Kiki asks.
‘The stables that sit at the back of the hotel. Oh, didn’t I tell you about that? I bumped into Finn there . . . ’ I have to think about when that was: ‘ . . . yesterday. It seems like we’ve been here longer, doesn’t it?’
Kiki, ignoring my question, immediately jumps in: ‘You bumped into Finn at a riding stables? Was he wearing tight breeches and carrying a whip?’
I shake my head. ‘No, don’t be daft. He was only there visiting.’
‘Still, I wouldn’t mind seeing him like that, would you?’ she asks innocently.
I give her a warning look.
‘What?’ she asks, her eyes wide.
A horn beeps behind us, and I realise the ponies have now crossed safely. So I put the car into first gear and move off, quickly changing up to second. But I don’t quite get into third before I whack on my indicator and swerve to the side of the road, causing even more honks of derision from the cars behind me.
But I don’t care, because at last I’ve spotted it, raised up off the road on its own tiny hill – The Welcome House.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ Kiki asks, removing her hand from the dashboard where she’d had to thrust it to balance herself as I swerved from the road. ‘Oh . . . ’ she says, following my gaze. ‘You think that’s it?’
‘I know it is,’ I reply with confidence. From the lake, I’d taken note that the bright white house had a red-tiled roof, but that it had been patched up in places with grey tiles, giving it a patchwork appearance.
There’s a small lay-by further up the road, so we drive towards it and park up safely. Then we climb out to investigate.
From the road, the house appears to be well looked after. There’s a front garden leading up to it, which is on several levels because of the steep gradient. It doesn’t have any flowers or lawn, but isn’t filled with junk either, it’s simply empty, but it looks like someone might have recently swept it clean. A winding path leads up through the layers to the house, so Kiki and I follow it. As we reach the top, we notice over the wooden front door, carved into a stone archway, are the words: An Fáilte Teach.
‘I wonder what that means?’ Kiki asks.
I look up at the words; something about them was familiar. ‘Wasn’t Fáilte what it said when we arrived in Ballykiltara? It must mean welcome in Gaelic.’
‘And Teach must mean house!’ Kiki says excitedly. ‘That would make sense, if what Jackie said was right.’
‘Yes . . . The Welcome House.’ I’m still staring up at the words. They looked like they’d been carved up there a long time ago.
‘Looks like someone is living here,’ Kiki says, looking either side of the door. ‘There’s curtains at the windows.’
‘Yes, I noticed that as we climbed up. Shame, I was hoping it might be empty. I’ll knock and see what’s what.’
This is one of the most precarious parts of my job, knocking at a door when a property is clearly not for sale. The reaction I get from the person who answers the door can range from intense outrage to extreme curiosity when I tell them what I do for a living and that I’m interested in possibly purchasing their home.
I take a deep breath and reach for a door knocker, but find there isn’t one. I look either side of the door for a bell, but there’s not one of those either. So I ball my hand into a fist and bang hard on the wooden door.
I notice Kiki has stood back. She too knows what sort of reaction we’re liable to get from the person who comes to the door, and it looks as if she’s preparing herself for a quick getaway.
I wait a few seconds, and when no one answers, I bang hard again.
But this time my banging seems to dislodge the door, and it swings open a little. I look back at Kiki and pull a face. This would not be a good start if someone came to the door now.
But no one does, so I reach forward and call through the narrow opening. ‘Hello! Is anyone in?’
But there’s no reply, so I put one foot in the doorway and ask the same question again. But still no one answers.
‘What shall we do now?’ Kiki asks. ‘Come back another day?’
I should say yes, that’s exactly what we’ll do, but I don’t. Something is pulling me into the house – not some strange supernatural force or anything weird like that, simply a feeling that we should go through this door.
‘Ren!’ I hear Kiki call from outside as I take another step into the hall. ‘You can’t go in there. What if the owner comes back, or there’s someone in there asleep!’
I know she’s right, but I can’t help myself, I have to see what’s inside. This could be the house, the perfect place for Ryan Dempsey to see out his retirement in.
I step further into the hallway and take a look around. The décor in the hall is quite plain – cream-coloured walls with no pictures or photos hanging on them to give me a clue to the age of the owner of this house. Nothing but a narrow wooden table with a Tiffany-style lamp sitting on it, so I inch forward a bit more.
‘Ren!’ I hear Kiki hiss from the doorway. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m only taking a quick look,’ I say, glancing over my shoulder. ‘I can’t decide if this is the right house if I don’t see inside it, can I?’
Without waiting for Kiki’s reply, I head further along the hall towards one of several plain wooden doors to see if I can discover anything else about this house or its owner. I hear the front door gently close behind me and Kiki’s footsteps along the tiled floor as I take hold of the first handle I come to. I turn to her and hold my finger to my lips.
She pretends to zip hers shut.
I gently turn the handle and push open the door and a large sitting room is revealed. There’s no one in there, so I step inside to look around.
The sitting room, like the hall, is furnished quite basically. There’s a multicoloured brocade sofa, and two mismatched armchairs, with a small coffee table standing in between them. Against one cream-coloured wall stands a tall, dark wood dresser with a few ornaments sitting on its shelves, and on another a large heavy bookcase filled with old books. There’s no carpet, just a stripped wooden floor with a rug, and some thick velvet curtains at the window that sort of coordinate with the furniture. But what’s most odd in this eclectic room is there are no gadgets of any kind, not even a TV, the only thing to watch in here would be an open fire when it was lit in the large fireplace.
‘Bit dull, isn’t it?’ Kiki whispers, looking around.
‘Maybe someone older owns it?’ I say, hoping this isn’t the case. In my experience, the older the resident, the more stubborn they are when it comes to moving.
‘Well, whoever it is, they can’t be here or they would surely have heard us by now. Oh!’ Kiki suddenly gasps. ‘You don’t think . . . ?’
‘I don’t think what?’
S
he looks up to the ceiling. ‘You don’t think they’re dead, do you, and they’re lying up in their bed rotting away.’
‘Kiki!’ I shake my head. ‘Don’t be silly.’
‘But you hear about these things, don’t you – old people dying and no one finding their body until weeks or months afterwards. And this looks like an old person’s house.’
‘Let’s go and look in one of the other rooms,’ I say hurriedly, before my own mind begins to wander too far. ‘And see what we find there.’
We leave the sitting room and head across the hall to find a kitchen behind the next door we open.
Again, the room is basic, with kitchen units circa 1980s, but it’s clean and there are all the amenities you could need: a small cooker, a Belfast-style sink, and a fridge freezer.
I go over to the fridge freezer and open the door to the fridge.
‘This is no time for a snack,’ Kiki says. ‘What if there’s a dead body upstairs?’
‘Well, if there is, they’ve been out to buy milk recently,’ I say, lifting a plastic bottle from the fridge, ‘judging by the sell-by date on this.’ I put the milk back and inspect the other contents of the fridge. There’s some cheese, butter, and a packet of ham, all basic but all edible. Then I close the fridge door, and open a bread bin that sits on the side; a fresh uncut loaf waits inside for someone to eat it.
‘The inhabitant of this house is definitely alive,’ I say to Kiki. ‘They must be out, and didn’t shut the door properly behind them.’
‘All the more reason we shouldn’t be here then,’ Kiki says, looking nervously behind her.
‘I need to see the back of the house. I’ve only seen the front so far, and I want to see what the view is like from upstairs.’ I look at Kiki’s anxious face. ‘Why don’t you stay down here and raise the alarm if anyone comes back home.’
‘OK, but what shall I do if someone does? Do we need a special signal?’
‘We’re property hunters, not secret agents. Just call me if anyone looks like they’re coming up the steps outside.’
‘I’ll call out “The Search for Serendipity”,’ Kiki says, starting to look like she might be enjoying this. ‘It’ll be our code.’
‘If you like,’ I say, walking back into the hall. ‘Right, I’m going upstairs.’
Kiki looks anxious again.
‘There are no dead bodies,’ I reassure her. ‘Only ours, if we get caught here. Now go and keep a lookout.’
I climb confidently up the wooden stairs, my exterior bravado hiding my trepidation well. There is something a bit strange about this house. Unlike Kiki, I don’t think it’s hiding any dead bodies, but it is hiding something, though I don’t know what yet. All the rooms we’ve visited so far have been stark, there’s no denying that. Whoever lives here prefers a minimal approach to home décor, that’s for sure. But even though the rooms are plain, the house manages to retain a sense of homeliness, which is quite enchanting in its own way.
I reach the top of the stairs and off a T-shaped landing I have the choice of four rooms. The first door I try is a bathroom, which like the kitchen below is clean and equipped with all the basic necessities. I then enter a series of bedrooms, all of which contain basic furniture and beds that are fully made up. Oddly, even though all the rooms have soft furnishings, there are no personal effects anywhere; no clothes, photographs, trophies, anything that might give me a clue to the owner of this house.
But what I am pleased to find as I enter the rooms that face the back of the house is a view. The view I’d hoped for when we’d been out on the boat earlier, and most importantly a view that I knew Ryan Dempsey would love – a perfect panorama of lakes and mountains, seen through long French windows designed to exploit a flawless outlook. It is absolutely stunning.
After I’ve stood and gazed at the view myself for a few minutes, I head downstairs, and on my way back to Kiki I quickly open a couple more doors to discover an unused dining room, and a large but un-stocked larder. I close all the doors behind me and return to the sitting room, where I find Kiki furtively looking through the front window.
‘All done?’ she asks. ‘There’s been no movement out here, only passing traffic. But I really think we should go soon.’
I look around the sitting room again. The house is old, and needs a fair bit of refurbishment, but it’s the sort of size Ryan wanted so he could have his grandchildren to stay occasionally. It appears to have all the necessary amenities – like running water and electricity, and it’s in the area that Ryan had specified. This house ticks all the boxes, but the biggest tick of all has to be the stunning view that was top of his list. The Welcome House has everything, including an atmosphere; no, it’s more of a feeling, an emotion, a sentiment, that like its name makes you feel welcome, for all its sparseness.
But the house feels cold right now, and almost a little sad, like it needs someone new to come and live here.
‘What are you thinking, Ren?’ Kiki asks, still looking out of the window. ‘You’re very quiet. No dead bodies were there?’ she jokes.
I shake my head. ‘No, on the contrary, this house has everything but that. It has everything Ryan wants. This is it, Kiki, we’ve found our house. All we have to do now is find out who owns it.’
Eleven
We drive back to the hotel, excitedly discussing our next move.
I’d been quite glad that the owner of the house hadn’t made an appearance while we were there. Now I had time to think about the best way of making them an offer on their home while causing as little offence as possible.
It isn’t always problematic. Sometimes, unbeknown to me, the owner of a house is actually thinking of putting their home up for sale, and they’re quite pleased when I turn up at their door and make them an offer they can’t refuse.
‘Evening, ladies,’ Donal calls from the reception desk as we make our way into the hotel. ‘How was your day?’
‘Very nice thank you,’ I tell him. ‘Most productive.’
‘Good. And did you go on your boat trip?’
‘Oh yes,’ Kiki pipes up. ‘We had a lovely old guy who took us across to the abbey. He knew all sorts.’
‘Excellent. Did you catch his name? I might know him.’
‘Jackie,’ Kiki says. ‘He told us lots of stories and told Ren about The Welcome House.’
When Kiki says Jackie’s name, Donal looks puzzled for a second, then his face changes to surprise when she mentions The Welcome House. ‘Now why would you ladies be interested in that old place?’ he asks.
I stare hard at Kiki.
‘Just more of Jackie’s tales,’ Kiki covers well. ‘He has so many, doesn’t he?’
Donal looks suspiciously at us.
‘Do you know the house then, Donal?’ I ask. Or more importantly, who owns it?
‘Sure now,’ Donal appears to relax, ‘everyone around here knows The Welcome House.’
‘That’s what Jackie said,’ I begin, hoping to pump him for more information. But some new guests arrive through the double doors, and Kiki and I need to move aside as they approach the reception desk, to allow them to check in.
If anyone would know who owned that house, then it would surely be Donal. He seems to know everything about the local area. I decide I’ll pop back later to have a chat with him.
‘I wonder if Eddie might know who owns that house?’ Kiki muses as we wait for the lift. ‘I could ask him, if you like? Once I’ve changed and freshened up, obviously.’
‘Obviously.’ I smile at her.
‘Well, you have to take your chances, Ren. Maybe you should ask Finn too? As manager of the hotel, he must know a fair bit about the local area.’
‘You might be right,’ I reply, thinking about Finn as we step inside the lift.
I notice Kiki smiling slyly, but on this occasion I choose to ignore her, I haven’t the energy to complain. She isn’t the only one who needs to freshen up, today has been rewarding, yet tiring and I’m longing for a shower and a
rest before I do any more metaphorical digging about The Welcome House.
Kiki spends the next hour snoring loudly on her bed, while I lie on mine staring up at the ceiling trying not to think about The Welcome House, but finding myself doing just that. Afterwards, we freshen up, change and head downstairs to find food, and hopefully some answers.
Donal is not on reception any more, and someone we haven’t met before is, so we decide to split up and go in search of Eddie and Finn respectively.
‘I wonder if you could tell me where I might find Finn Cassidy?’ I ask the new lady on reception while Kiki heads outside to look for Eddie.
The receptionist, who according to her name badge is called Moira, looks at me slightly oddly but is polite in her reply. ‘Finn isn’t on duty right now. Is there anything I can help you with?’
I’m about to decline, but then I think better of it.
‘I don’t suppose you know who owns that white house on the main road out of Ballykiltara, do you?’ I ask. ‘I believe it’s known as The Welcome House?’
Again Moira looks at me slightly oddly.
‘No, I don’t,’ she says. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Oh no reason,’ I say. ‘It’s quite pretty, that’s all. Thanks for your help.’ I smile and turn towards the door.
‘You might find Finn at the stables,’ Moira says suddenly, and I turn back. ‘He spends quite a bit of time over there when he’s not on duty. And quite a lot of time when he is.’ She smiles knowingly.
‘Thanks, Moira,’ I say happily. ‘I’ll see if he’s there now.’
I head back through the hotel and out the back door into the hotel garden. It’s a lovely bright end to the day, and the evening sun’s rays warm the terracotta bricks of the wall that runs around the perimeter of the garden. I find the gate easily, now I know where it is, and this time don’t hesitate to go straight through, following the path towards the stables much more confidently than I had the last time I was here.
When I reach the opening and the stable courtyard, there is no one to be seen. No one except the horses, who eye me curiously, wondering who I am, and more likely if I have food for them.