by Ali McNamara
I’ve been distracted from Kiki’s words by something on the pavement next to us.
‘See that dog over there?’ I say, pointing to a large hairy dog poddling quite happily along the street. It stops to cock its leg on a litter bin. ‘He belongs to Finn.’
‘Is Finn with him?’ Kiki asks, peering along the street.
‘I don’t think so.’ I look in my rear-view mirrors in case we’ve missed him. ‘I can’t see him around, can you?’
‘No,’ Kiki shakes her head. ‘Do you think he’s allowed to be out roaming on his own?’
‘Finn thinks the world of that dog, so I very much doubt it.’
‘What should we do then? We can’t let him run around on his own – he might get lost. Or worse, hit by a car.’
My stomach twists at the thought.
‘I guess we should try and take him back to the hotel.’ I look over at the tiny back seat. ‘He might fit.’
‘I’ll go get him,’ Kiki says, purposefully opening her door. ‘You get ready to put him in the back. What’s his name?’
‘Fergus.’
While Kiki goes after Fergus, I climb out on to the pavement and pull Kiki’s passenger seat forward. Fergus is quite a big dog, so there’s no way we’re going to get him in the boot; he’ll have to go on the back seat. I wish I had Finn’s mobile number so I could call him, but we never got as far as exchanging numbers. Maybe we never would; he was only our hotel manager, after all. Why would he want to give me his number?
I’m thinking how weird, and perhaps how sad it will be when we have to leave this funny little world we’ve found ourselves cosseted in over the last few days, when Kiki comes rushing back along the pavement.
‘He won’t come to me,’ she exclaims breathlessly. ‘He keeps running away. He’s too big to pull by his collar – believe me, I tried, but he only dug his heels in harder. Can you have a go, Ren?’
I hesitate. I try to steer well clear of dogs these days; it’s easier that way. The thought of trying to cajole a large hairy one into following me back to my tiny car isn’t something I particularly relish.
I look down the street and see Fergus trotting happily across the road. A car has to brake sharply to avoid hitting him, and the driver beeps his horn in annoyance. As I feel the sound of the horn go right through me, something stirs deep inside.
‘I’ll be right back,’ I tell Kiki as I sprint off up the road, and unlike Fergus use a zebra crossing to negotiate the always-busy traffic along Ballykiltara’s high street.
‘Fergus,’ I call sternly as he pauses to sniff at a dustbin about to overflow with used chip papers. ‘You wait right there.’ As I walk towards him, I hold up my hand like a policeman stopping traffic.
Fergus looks up at the person calling his name, and for one moment I think he’s going to trot off again, but he doesn’t; he waits by the bin until I catch up with him, all the time watching me.
‘Good boy,’ I tell him as I reach his side. I squat down next to him. ‘Now, Fergus,’ I say, looking into his dark eyes. ‘I need you to behave right now. This isn’t easy for me, you know? So if you’ll just come with me back to my car, we can return you safely to Finn.’
Fergus’s ears twitch at the mention of Finn’s name.
‘Is that OK?’ I ask him, instinctively reaching out my hand to pat him. But before my hand reaches his head, Fergus quickly turns and a big pink tongue licks my hand.
My heart swells, and I feel a tear spring into my eye.
‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ I tell him. I pat his side, then I slip my hand through his collar and gently guide him towards the crossing. Once we’ve safely reached the other side of the road, I loosen my grip and allow him to trot obediently beside me as we make our way back to Kiki and the car.
‘Wow, you’re a dog whisperer,’ Kiki says in awe, as we reach the little hire car again.
‘I hardly think so,’ I say as I encourage Fergus on to the back seat. Which I’m relieved to find he actually fits on. I go around to the driver’s side of the car and climb in while Kiki does the same on her side.
‘You obviously have a way with dogs though,’ Kiki says, as we set off again. ‘I saw you with him back there. Have you ever had a dog of your own?’
‘Yes, a long time ago,’ I reply, hoping she won’t ask anything further. But that’s not Kiki’s style.
‘Oh, what sort? You never said so before, and we’ve been to loads of houses with dogs. I thought you were afraid – you always seem to avoid them.’
I look in my rear-view mirror at Fergus panting happily on the back seat.
‘We’ll have to get this car cleaned now,’ I say, avoiding Kiki’s question. ‘There’ll be dog hairs all over that seat. The hire company will have a fit.’
‘Eddie will help us,’ Kiki says, her mind wandering in a direction it was always happy to go lately. ‘He has all sorts of gadgets. He’ll probably have an industrial-strength Hoover too.’
And with that we turn into the gates of The Stag, and I’m relieved I seem to have prevented Kiki asking me any further questions for the time being.
We find a space in the car park, then Kiki climbs out with Fergus while I lock up the car. ‘Pop into the hotel and see if Finn is about, will you?’ I ask Kiki. ‘Otherwise I’ll have to take Fergus around to his cottage.’
Kiki is about to head up the stone steps to reception when Eddie appears around the corner of the building, pushing a number of large suitcases on his big gold luggage trolley.
‘Eddie!’ Kiki shrieks with delight.
‘Kiki, howaya?’ he asks looking equally as delighted to see her, then he sees me standing by the car with Fergus. ‘Is that Finn’s dog ya have there?’ he asks, puzzled.
‘We found him running wild in the town centre,’ Kiki explains. ‘Ren was quite the hero getting him back here.’
‘Is that so?’ Eddie says calmly, but his eyes shine with amusement at Kiki’s description.
‘Is Finn around, Eddie?’ I ask. ‘I could do with getting Fergus back to him.’
Eddie leaves his trolley and wanders over to me, with Kiki not far behind him.
‘Finn’s gone to Limerick on business. He won’t be back until later today. I’d offer to look after Fergus, but I’m pure swamped with bags right now – we’ve a conference on, see?’
‘No, that’s fine, Eddie, I wouldn’t expect you to. We’ll sort something out.’
‘Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this,’ Eddie says, leaning in towards me. ‘But Finn keeps a key to his front door under the horse statue in his front garden. Perhaps you could let Fergus back in that way until Finn gets home? That’s just between you and me, mind?’ He taps the side of his nose.
‘Of course, you can trust me, Eddie. Thanks for that.’
‘No worries, miss. Kiki, I’ll see you later, yes?’
‘Definitely,’ Kiki says. ‘Can’t wait.’ She blows him a kiss, and small pink spots appear on Eddie’s pale cheeks as he scurries back to his luggage.
‘Kiki, shall I meet you upstairs in a few minutes, after I’ve taken Fergus back to Finn’s cottage?’ I ask ruffling Fergus’s head.
‘How about down in the bar? I could do with a coffee.’
‘Sure, then we can talk about what comes next for operation Welcome House.’
‘If you want,’ Kiki says, sounding less than enthused.
‘I’ll see you in a few minutes then. Come on, Fergus.’
It’s supposed to be me leading Fergus as we walk together towards the back of the hotel where Finn had indicated his cottage was. But in fact it’s Fergus who guides me confidently back to his home.
Finn’s cottage stands alone at the end of a small driveway.
I would have described it as a bungalow with character rather than a cottage in the English sense of the word. But looking at its position, halfway between the hotel and the riding stables, I would guess it was the Irish equivalent of a tied cottage, when the hotel was once a large country house with
the stables as part of the owner’s land.
The cottage is surrounded by an unpainted wooden fence that runs around the outside of a tidy, but unremarkable garden. Fergus bounds over to the gate, and I expect him to sit and wait for me to open it for him, but instead he takes a run at it, and leaps easily over the top with a foot to spare.
‘I’m beginning to see how you went AWOL today,’ I tell him as I follow him through the gate into the garden. ‘Now where do we find this key?’
I look around the garden and spy by the front doorstep a stone racehorse in full flight, mounted on top of a stone pillar. So I tip up the pillar, and sure enough, as Eddie had promised, I find a key.
While Fergus waits patiently next to me, I take the key and place it in the front door, then I turn it and the door swings open easily.
‘Right, let’s go find you some water,’ I say as Fergus bounds into the house in front of me. ‘I’m sure you’ll show me the way.’
I follow Fergus through into a neat hall decorated in shades of cream, with a painting on one wall of the Ha’penny Bridge in Dublin. We then move through to a bright modern kitchen with white wooden kitchen units, a stainless steel sink, and a yellow Aga. Fergus waits impatiently by his water bowl, so I bend down and refill it, first moving a mug decorated with the Dublin flag from the bottom of the sink.
Then, while Fergus sloppily laps up his water, I look around to see if I can spot any food for him. Helpfully there’s a large bag of dry dog food sitting on the kitchen worktop out of Fergus’s reach – although after today’s escapades, I’m pretty sure if Fergus wanted it, it would be his immediately.
I fill a silver bowl that sits next to the bag with plenty of food, then I put it down on the floor next to the water. Fergus wastes no time in burying his nose in the food, but instead of gulping it down immediately he looks up at me, an enquiring expression on his face.
‘What? You don’t like being watched when you eat?’
Fergus simply waits.
‘OK, OK, I’ll leave you then. Let me know when you’re finished, won’t you?’ I say, grinning at him.
I wander back through the kitchen with the intention of waiting for Fergus to eat his food, then hopefully I can settle him down on his dog bed, where I hope he will sleep until Finn gets home so that I can return to Kiki.
Other than the painting, there’s not much to see in the cream-coloured hall, so I decide to wander a bit further, and I find myself in a cosy lounge, which like the other rooms I’ve visited so far has stripped wooden floorboards adding to the warm feel of the house. There’s a flat-screen TV, a brown leather sofa with a blanket – also in Dublin colours – thrown casually across its back, and a matching comfy armchair that’s obviously Finn’s favourite because it faces the TV, and still retains the imprint from where he last sat in it. The afternoon sun streams through a large patio window, so I shield my eyes and head towards the window with the intention of drawing the curtains to prevent the sun from fading the leather sofa.
‘Ah, this is how you got out, Fergus!’ I exclaim, on finding the door slightly open behind the curtain. ‘You must have wriggled through this gap!’ I slide the door closed, and glance through the glass as I do. The view is uninspiring, just another small garden, tidy like its front counterpart, but bereft of any inspired planting. It’s quite clear the owner of this house either doesn’t like gardening, or more likely, knowing Finn, doesn’t have the time to do it.
‘There, that’s better,’ I say, drawing the curtains so they block out the sun. I turn back to face the room. I’m about to leave when I spy several framed photos sitting on a stripped pine chest of drawers, so naturally I have to go over and take a look.
The first photo I pick up is of a large group of people; they’re standing in front of a huge building, which I assume must be a hotel, as the people are obviously a wedding party.
I look closely at the photo and spot Finn standing on the front row looking very smart in full morning dress; he holds a top hat under his arm, and I can’t help but smirk at the thought of Finn having to wear ‘official’ wedding gear such as this. If this Finn was anything like the Finn I know now, he’d have absolutely hated it.
The other people in the photo aren’t really of any interest. Finn clearly isn’t the groom, but likely a best man or possibly an usher, considering his placing in the line-up. I’m surprised at the feeling I get on discovering this. Why should it matter to me whether Finn has been married before? But my insides tell me otherwise.
I’m about to put the photo back down on the table when I notice the similarity between Finn and a few of the people he’s standing with, particularly an older man, also in morning dress. This must be a family wedding, I suddenly realise, and the man Finn is standing next to is definitely his father, accompanied possibly by his mother and likely his brother and his sister, as they appear to be the only ones who have Finn’s colouring and the same cute dimple as he has on his chin.
Big family . . . I muse, and by the look of the women’s outfits and hats, a wealthy family too. I put the photo down and pick up another; this time it’s a photo of Finn outside a stable, standing next to a pretty chestnut horse with its head hanging over a stable door. I look more closely and realise this is not the Ballykiltara stable; the wood making up the stable door is smoother and darker, for one thing, and this elegant shiny horse isn’t the sort that takes visitors out on pony treks; it looks more accustomed to carrying a brightly clad jockey along a race track.
The horse’s name is on a sign over the stable door: Celtic Cassidy.
Finn looks happier than I think I’ve ever seen him, as he smiles back at whoever is taking this photo. His smile not only reaches his eyes but floats all around him like a joyful halo.
I’m surprised to find the rest of the framed photos are either of horses, dogs or both. Other than the family group, there are no other humans. It’s obvious what the two loves of Finn’s life are, and it’s as I think this that I hear one of them bark from the kitchen.
Fergus.
I’m about to go back to check on him when suddenly I hear the front door open. I freeze on the spot like a child playing musical statues. Then I look down at the photo still in my hand, and as quietly and carefully as I can I put it back down with the others. I’m about to move towards the hallway and explain myself when I hear Finn’s voice, but he’s not talking to me, he’s talking to a mobile phone.
‘Yes, Mam, I’m fine – really . . . Yes, I know what day it is, you’ve just reminded me, haven’t you?’ The front door closes and there’s another pause in the conversation while Finn listens to his mother, and I hear Fergus trot through to the hall to greet him.
I hesitate. Should I make my presence known? Otherwise it will seem like I’m eavesdropping on Finn’s conversation . . . but I don’t want to surprise him too much when he’s on the phone to his mother – who appears to be quite a formidable woman, judging by the wedding photo.
But my dilemma is quickly resolved when Finn comes wandering through to the sitting room, Fergus by his side.
To his credit, he doesn’t jump too much on seeing me dithering next to his armchair, but the look on his face suggests a fair bit of shock.
‘Mam, I need to go,’ he says quickly into the phone. ‘Yeah, like I said, I’m fine. You’re the one making a big deal out of it . . . Yes, I’ll call you soon . . . yes, I promise . . . Love you too.’
Finn ends the call, puts the phone in his shirt pocket, then he turns his full attention to me.
I expect a flood of questions to spill forth from his mouth, but instead he simply raises his eyebrows questioningly, and waits for my explanation . . .
Eighteen
‘I . . . I’m sorry,’ I try to explain in a rush. ‘I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation.’
Finn still looks questioningly at me.
‘And I didn’t mean to look at your photos either.’
Finn looks across at the frames, then back to me.
/> ‘I didn’t expect I’d still be here when you got back. I thought I’d be long gone.’
Finn pulls an even more quizzical expression, and for a moment we both stare silently at each other.
‘Thank you for your many apologies,’ he says eventually, to my relief. ‘But what you haven’t explained is what you’re doing here inside my house in the first place?’
I breathe a sigh of relief. Finn hadn’t sounded angry or cross, his voice had simply been calm, if a little confused.
‘It was Fergus,’ I explain. ‘Kiki and I found him wandering about on the high street, so we brought him back to the hotel in our car, but Eddie said you were in Limerick and wouldn’t be home until later, so I decided to bring him back here myself.’
‘He’s a terror for getting out of the house, is that one,’ Finn says, still calm. ‘It’s not the first time.’
‘You left the patio door open.’ I gesture behind me. ‘He must have slipped out that way.’
‘More likely he’s learnt how to undo the catch and slide it open with his nose.’ Finn bends down to Fergus, who’s watching our conversation with interest. ‘You’ll get yourself hit by a car one day if you keep taking yourself for a walk,’ he tries to admonish, but Fergus just licks his face.
Finn sighs, then he pats Fergus and stands up again.
‘Perhaps you should lock the doors?’ I suggest. ‘In case it happens again?’
‘Probably wouldn’t make a difference. He’d only learn how to turn the key. He’s a smart cookie, this fella.’ Finn ruffles his pal’s head.
‘Well, you need to find a way to stop him wandering in amongst traffic, that’s for sure,’ I say sharply.
Finn looks at me with amusement. ‘Yes, miss.’ He gives a quick salute.
‘I’m serious. He . . . he could cause an accident. People might get hurt. Fergus might get hurt . . . ’ My voice fades away.
Finn looks at me with concern this time.
‘Sure, if it means that much to you, I’ll be more careful next time I have to leave him. And there was me the other day thinking you didn’t care all that much for our canine friends.’