by Ali McNamara
‘And is this our milk too?’ Finn pulls a bottle of semi-skimmed milk from the door.
‘Yes,’ Sarah says, her bulk doing nothing to hide her embarrassment. ‘But I can explain, Finn, honestly I can.’
Finn takes the butter from Sarah’s hand and puts it back in the fridge with the other supplies, then he closes the door. ‘I think you’d better . . . and fast!’
I’m still standing in the doorway, trying to take all this in. Sarah, the cook at the hotel, is the caretaker of the house? Finn had been right all along – it was a female! But she wasn’t the owner, was she? Or perhaps she was?
Sarah glances warily at me.
‘Ren is a friend of mine, she’s grand,’ Finn says. ‘You can say what you need to in front of her.’
Sarah looks at me again, nods briefly, then she turns back to Finn. ‘I’ve never took things from the hotel kitchen before, I promise you, Finn.’ Her eyes are wide with fear as she stares at Finn. I’m surprised to see that Sarah doesn’t have to look up to speak to him; Finn always seemed to tower over everyone, including me. But Sarah easily matches him, height wise.
Finn waits for her to continue.
‘But I got this letter, see?’
‘What letter?’ Finn asks, folding his arms across his chest.
I’ve never seen Finn like this before, all serious and strict; he’s usually so relaxed and droll. Right now, I’m finding him more attractive than ever. I shake my head. Concentrate, Ren. Concentrate. This might be important.
‘I’ll get it from my bag, will I?’ Sarah gestures to her handbag sitting on the kitchen table.
Finn nods.
While Sarah shuffles over to get her bag, Finn glances at me and gives me a quick reassuring smile, which I happily return.
‘Now,’ Sarah says, opening up her bag. ‘Here it is.’
From her bag she produces a torn, cream-coloured envelope, which she passes to Finn.
Finn glances doubtfully at Sarah before pulling a piece of thick, parchment paper from the envelope. He scans it quickly, then reads it aloud.
‘Dear Sarah, You like me have lived in this area all your life, and I know you treasure its history as I do. So that is why The Welcome
House is asking for your help.’
Finn looks up from the letter at Sarah.
‘I know, imagine how I felt?’ she asks looking at Finn and then at me.
Finn continues reading the letter.
‘As you know, The Welcome House is always open to those in need of temporary shelter or accommodation, and as such needs to be cared for at all times.
‘Sadly however that hospitality is being put under threat by those that would see the end of Ballykiltara’s unique and precious legend.’
Finn pauses, but does not look at me this time.
‘Until this threat has waned, I feel I have no choice but to take a short break as custodian, to protect my identity and the future of our precious house, hence there is a need for a temporary housekeeper to provide the food and services The Welcome House requires.
‘So I am asking you, dear Sarah, if you would, on a temporary basis, step in to care for The Welcome House in my absence.
‘I know I can trust in you to keep the legend of The Welcome House alive and well until I can safely return to my post.
‘Yours, with eternal gratitude, X.’
Finn looks up from the letter. He turns to me, then to Sarah.
‘So this is why you’ve been stealing food from the hotel?’
Sarah nods.
‘And how long has it been going on?’
‘This is my first time coming here,’ Sarah says. ‘And I’ve banjaxed it already.’
‘When did you get the letter?’ I ask, entering the kitchen properly.
‘Yesterday evening,’ she says. ‘It was left in my apron pocket, in the hotel kitchen.’
‘Someone is getting worried we might find out who the owner is,’ I say, not thinking through my words.
‘It’s you?’ Sarah asks. ‘You’re the one trying to wreck our legend? I should have known it would be the English, trying to take what isn’t theirs!’
‘No,’ Finn interjects. ‘Ren isn’t trying to take anything; we’re simply trying to find out a bit more about the myths that surround the house. Ren is a writer,’ he adds, turning his face away from Sarah to wink at me. ‘She’s doing research, that’s all.’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ I back him up. ‘It’s such an interesting story; I wanted to find out more about it. This letter,’ I say, taking it from Finn’s hand, ‘just proves that there is someone out there looking after the place. I’m simply trying to discover who.’
I look down at the letter; it’s written in black ink, in a very ornate style, much like the letter in the visitors’ book.
‘I’d say you’d be better leaving things alone,’ Sarah says meaningfully. She gives me an intimidating look. ‘Before you stir up any more trouble.’
‘And I’d say you would be best keeping your opinions to yourself,’ Finn snaps. ‘Considering you’ve just been caught, and admitted to stealing hotel property.’
Sarah flashes her eyes at Finn. But he holds her glare with an equally commanding one of his own.
If this had been taking place a couple of centuries ago, I might have felt myself swoon. Instead I swallow hard and look gratefully at Finn.
‘Have it your way,’ Sarah eventually concedes. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you – there’s lots we don’t know about this place. Who knows what forces might be awoken if you keep meddling in things you don’t understand.’ She fires another cautionary look at me.
‘You let us worry about that,’ Finn insists. ‘I . . . we, are quite capable of taking care of ourselves.’
Sarah opens her mouth again, but Finn shakes his head.
‘I’ll see you in the morning, Sarah,’ he says in an authoritative voice. ‘And we’ll keep this little meeting between the three of us, OK? Dermot and Darcy need never find out . . . ’
Sarah’s head drops. ‘Should I take everything back to the hotel?’ she asks quietly. ‘The food, I mean?’
‘No, leave it here now. It will keep the place going for a few days.’
‘I’ll be going then, shall I?’ she adds.
‘I think that’s best. Remember now, no one must know what’s gone on here tonight.’
‘Of course. My lips are sealed.’ Sarah gathers up her bag and makes her way over to the kitchen door.
‘Thank you, Finn,’ she says. She glances at me. ‘And Ren.’
Finn gives a brief nod in Sarah’s direction before she leaves. Then we hear the front door open and close behind her.
‘Well,’ Finn says, audibly breathing a sigh of relief now Sarah has gone. ‘That was close.’
‘Yes, it was. Thanks for defending me – I appreciate that.’
Finn shrugs, ‘No worries, I thought you might have been cross – me standing up for you. You’re quite the feminist when you want to be.’
‘I am – but not so much I can’t appreciate a little chivalry from time to time.’
Finn smiles at me.
‘You’re rather scary when you’re cross.’ I don’t tell him how sexy he is too. ‘I’m not surprised Sarah scuttled off with her tail between her legs.’
‘Really? I can’t see it.’
‘Oh yes, you completely went into managerial mode – all commanding and stern.’
‘Sorry.’
‘No, don’t apologise.’ I almost tell him how much I liked it, but stop myself. ‘It was good to see another side to you.’
Finn smiles, and begins to move towards me again with a similar look to the one he’d had in the car before he spotted Sarah. But instead of responding in the way I want to, I panic and keep talking:
‘However, what is annoying me is I really thought we were going to discover who the mystery caretaker was. I feel quite cheated.’
Finn stops abruptly halfway across the kitchen; his look
of desire rapidly diminishes, and is replaced by his more usual carefree expression.
‘I told you,’ he says, as if nothing has happened, ‘people have tried for years to uncover this mystery, but no one ever gets any closer to unravelling it.’
‘Ah,’ I say, relieved he doesn’t seem to be annoyed by my apparent rejection. ‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ I hold up the letter still clutched in my hand. ‘We have this now. A big clue to who the mystery caretaker is.’
‘It is?’ Finn looks doubtfully at the letter.
‘Yes. This letter, Finn Cassidy, is going to help us solve this mystery once and for all.’
Twenty-Two
‘She said what?’ Kiki asks as we all sit around a corner table in the hotel bar. It’s nearly 2 a.m. and Kiki, Finn, Eddie and I are ruminating over the night’s events with an assortment of drinks, both alcoholic and hot, in front of us on the table.
‘She warned us not to keep meddling, or who knows what forces we would awaken, didn’t she, Finn?’
‘She did,’ Finn agrees, taking a sip from his mug of tea.
‘It sounds like Scooby-Doo!’ Kiki exclaims with amusement. ‘When the bad guys warn those pesky kids to stop meddling! Did you used to watch that, Eddie?’ she asks, looking over at Eddie, who has finished his shift and is enjoying the shot of Irish whiskey that Finn has poured him as a thank you from me for coming out to collect Kiki in her hour of need.
‘I did indeed,’ Eddie says. ‘But Sarah might be right – there’s all sorts of stories that surround that house, not all of them good like the ones you’ve probably heard so far. That’s the Ballykiltara publicity machine working overtime. If you consult the Ballykiltara grapevine, you’d probably hear closer to the truth.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, glancing at Finn with a questioning look. Did he know about these alternate stories too?
‘Well,’ Eddie says, putting his glass purposefully back down on the table, ‘let’s just say Sarah might have been trying to do you a favour with her warning . . . ’
‘Come on, Eddie, spill!’ Kiki encourages. ‘We want to know more, don’t we, Ren?’
‘Yes please, Eddie. Anything you can tell us might be of help.’
‘OK, then. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Eddie, unusually, is quite enjoying his moment in the spotlight. Normally, he seems to be doing his best to blend seamlessly into the background as he scurries around the hotel completing his daily tasks. But tonight, he’s clearly relishing our attention as he sits forward to tell us more.
‘There’s been tales and myths galore surrounding that old house for years and years,’ Eddie says, looking around the table at us. ‘Like I said before, most of them are good: a friendly old house that welcomes in strangers – what could be grander than that? It’s a visitor-friendly tale for the locals to tell to tourists over a pint of Guinness. But what you don’t hear about so readily is the darker stories that surround the place . . . ’
‘Go on,’ I encourage, when Eddie pauses for dramatic effect once more.
‘Many folk have tried, like you are, miss,’ he says, nodding at me, ‘to uncover the secret of The Welcome House. Folk don’t always take kindly to things that can’t be explained. And most of the time when they can’t find answers they give up and move on. But it’s the persistent ones that seem to stir up the most trouble.’
‘Like?’ I ask, wishing he’d get to the point. It’s late, and I’m not in the mood for ghost stories, which is what Eddie seems to be building up to.
‘They say that if you try too hard to find out the secret of The Welcome House . . . ’ he looks around the table again, ‘the house will swallow you up.’
‘Whatever do you mean, “swallow you up”?’ I demand, while Kiki looks aghast. ‘How can a house do that?’
‘It’s the cellar, so they say,’ Eddie continues, undaunted. ‘There have been tales of folk that have gone down there, never to return. When people have gone to look for them, there’s no trace – they’ve disappeared never to be seen again.’
‘Whoa!’ Kiki whispers. ‘No way!’
Eddie nods assuredly. He sits back in his chair, lifts his glass and sips his whiskey.
‘Come on, Eddie,’ I say, grinning now, ‘you don’t seriously expect me to believe that nonsense? Surely this is another silly myth that’s grown from a lot of tittle-tattle over time?’
‘I’m only telling you what I know, miss,’ Eddie says without a hint of doubt in his voice.
‘And when did you last hear of someone being . . . ’ I have to gather myself before saying this, ‘swallowed up by the house!’
‘Well, not recently, no,’ Eddie says, considering it. ‘But there’s evidence of it happening in the past.’
‘What evidence?’ I ask scornfully. Highly amused by this, I glance over to Finn, who I expect to see sporting a similar expression to mine, but instead his expression is unusually impartial as he listens to Eddie’s tale.
‘I’ve never seen them myself,’ Eddie says, ‘but they say there’s some old books that tell tales of people disappearing in the house.’
‘Books? What sort of books?’
‘Manuscripts,’ Finn says, to my surprise, ‘that date back to Viking times.’
‘You knew about this?’ I ask in astonishment. ‘Why didn’t you say something before?’
Finn shrugs. ‘It didn’t seem relevant. Like you said, it’s only more tales.’
‘But there’s actual evidence of this happening? Of people disappearing?’
‘Apparently, these manuscripts report it.’
‘Have you seen them?’
‘No,’ Finn says, laughing. ‘No one has. Not for a long time anyway.’
‘So how do you know they exist? More old wives’ tales?’
‘No – old priests.’
I look at him with a puzzled expression.
‘Father Duffy,’ he answers for me. ‘He says they exist.’
‘Father Duffy says books exist that show people disappearing from The Welcome House cellar?’ This was getting sillier by the minute.
Finn shrugs again. Suggesting perhaps he doesn’t want to believe it either. ‘Something like that, yes. Why don’t you ask him about it tomorrow night at the quiz?’
‘Don’t worry, I will.’ Anyone would think we were in cloud-cuckoo land right now, not twenty-first-century Ireland. I’m now more determined than ever to get to the bottom of this; not just for Ryan Dempsey, but for my own sanity too. ‘I’ll also be using my time before then to try and narrow down who sent Sarah’s mystery letter.’ I tell them.
‘Aren’t you scared, after what Eddie’s told you?’ Kiki asks, looking worried. ‘What if the house doesn’t like what we’re doing? We could be swallowed up too!’
‘Don’t be so silly. How is that ever going to happen?’
Kiki looks anxiously at Eddie.
He simply shrugs with a ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you’ look.
Kiki looks back at me with a terrified expression.
‘Look, as long as we don’t go down to the cellar, we’ll be safe, won’t we?’ I try, in the hope this will pacify her.
She nods uneasily.
‘Oh, that’s not the only story,’ Eddie pipes up again, to my horror. ‘There’s lots—’
‘Yes, thank you, Eddie.’ I glare at him with such force, he visibly reels back against his chair. ‘I’m sure that can wait for another time.’
‘Yes, I think we’ve all had enough fun for one evening,’ Finn says, standing up. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely ready for my bed.’
He collects the glasses and mugs and takes them up to the bar while we gather our things.
Kiki and Eddie walk out into the hotel foyer together to say goodnight, so I’m left slightly awkwardly with Finn.
I feel like I’m sixteen again and on a double-date with my best friend from school. While Jennifer quite happily got off with any of the boys we double-dated together, I
was always left feeling awkward and tongue-tied at the end of the date.
‘Those two seem to be getting on well,’ Finn comments, looking out into the foyer as he walks over to where I stand. ‘I’m pleased for them.’
‘Yes, Eddie isn’t Kiki’s usual type of guy. But they’re good together.’
‘What do you think about holiday romances?’ Finn asks casually. ‘Do they ever last?’
I’m careful with my answer. ‘Sometimes, I guess. But we’re not on holiday, are we? This is a business trip.’
‘Ah yes, the business – how could I forget?’ He looks at me meaningfully.
I’m too tired for this tonight, so I make a quick, and pleasant decision. ‘Good night, Finn,’ I tell him. ‘Thank you for all your help.’ And without thinking any further about it, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek, which feels warm as my lips brush against a light covering of stubble.
Without saying anything else, I leave a somewhat surprised Finn in the bar and make my way past an interlocked Kiki and Eddie up to our room, where even after I’ve cleaned my teeth and got ready for bed, I can still feel the taste of Finn on my lips. And it’s a feeling I’m happy to hold on to, as I drift off into a deep and very contented sleep.
Twenty-Three
I’m deep in thought the next day as I take an early morning walk through Ballykiltara out to the park that we’d passed by so many times in the car, but had never had the chance to stop at.
Kiki is still asleep after our escapades last night, so I leave her a note telling her where I’ve gone, pleased I can have some peace and quiet for once so I can allow my mind to ruminate on everything that’s happened so far.
I know we’re getting closer by the day to finding the mysterious caretaker of The Welcome House, I can feel it in my bones. I don’t think I’ve ever tried so hard to secure a house for a client in all the time I’ve been property hunting, but The Welcome House has got under my skin, and now it was as much about solving the mystery that surrounds the house as securing a sale. Everyone else seemed more than happy to accept this peculiar house and its mystery caretaker/owner, so why couldn’t I?
Something hadn’t sat right with me since I came to Ballykiltara. It isn’t just the house, there’s something else going on too, and I seem no closer to discovering what that is, than I am to putting a deposit down for Ryan Dempsey.