by Ali McNamara
But I can’t imagine Donal in anything but a smart mac or trench coat. He’s far too traditional for anoraks. I’m beginning to think I’m barking up the wrong tree with this train of thought when Donal says something that immediately changes my mind.
‘The question about the Sharpe novels was so annoying. I used to own all of Bernard Cornwell’s books before I gave them away to charity. I should have known the answer.’
‘Yes, you usually get all the literary questions right, Donal,’ Father Duffy says. ‘There’s not much you haven’t read.’
The conversation turns into a chat about books and how no one gets as much time to read as they’d like any more. But I don’t join in; I’m still thinking about The Welcome House and the many books I’d seen lined up in the huge bookcase, including a complete set of Sharpe novels by one Bernard Cornwell.
‘Not joining in with us, Ren?’ Donal asks, looking at me questioningly. ‘You being a writer, I’d have thought you’d have much to share on the topic?’
I glance around the table. Other than Ciaran, Donal was the only one who didn’t know I wasn’t in Ballykiltara to do research for a book. Kiki had told Eddie the truth a couple of days ago, and she said he was cool with it.
‘I’m not really a writer,’ I announce, deciding to come clean. Also I’m curious to see what Donal’s reaction will be. ‘I’m a property seeker.’
Ciaran shrugs and takes an indifferent sip from his glass. But Donal looks at me uneasily.
‘A what?’ He looks at the others to gauge their surprise, but to their credit their expressions remain neutral.
‘A property seeker,’ I repeat. ‘Kiki and I both are. We’re here looking for a house for one of our clients.’
‘But . . . ’ Unusually for him, Donal looks anxious and more than a little unnerved. ‘Why would you tell us you were a writer?’
‘I didn’t want to cause any unease or arouse suspicion. When people hear what you do, especially in close communities such as Ballykiltara, they tend to close ranks. And that can make it more difficult to find properties.’
Donal’s reaction is not the one I was hoping for. I’d expected him to clam up and become secretive when put on the spot. Instead he seems upset and hurt that we’ve lied to him.
‘I see,’ is all Donal says. ‘And have you found anywhere you’d like to buy since you’ve been here?’
I glance around the table again.
‘Ren is interested in The Welcome House,’ Father Duffy says openly. ‘We’ve told her about the history and legends that surround the place, but she still feels it’s the right house for her client.’
‘You can’t buy The Welcome House!’ Donal explodes, his face reddening. ‘It’s part of our history, our heritage here in Ballykiltara.’
‘I’ve told her about the bad things that might happen,’ Eddie pipes up. ‘But it hasn’t put her off.’
I look at Father Duffy. He seems puzzled by Eddie’s statement.
‘Well it should,’ Donal says, standing up. ‘The Welcome House is not for sale to anyone, let alone an outsider from another country. Who’s your client, pray tell – some godawful American celebrity who wants to pretend they have Irish heritage? Or even worse, some Cockney wide boy wheeler-dealer who wants a pad for himself and his bit on the side?’
Hearing Donal say ‘bit on the side’ in his clipped formal tone should be amusing, but his anger is anything but.
‘Donal, sit down!’ Finn says, standing up and putting his hand firmly on Donal’s shoulder. ‘You’re creating a scene.’
Donal glares at him.
‘I’m guessing you were in on this all the time, Finn? I expect you were putty in her hands from the moment she first fluttered her eyelashes at you!’
‘Donal . . . ’ Finn warns, his eyes flashing dangerously. ‘I can see you’re upset, but I think you’ve said enough. Now calm down, or if you can’t, perhaps you should leave.’
‘I’ll leave, thank you,’ Donal says, pushing his chair back. ‘You are a guest in our hotel, miss, and as such I will conduct myself with decorum around you while you continue to stay with us. But you should know how much my opinion of you, and your friend’ – he glares at Kiki, who cowers against Eddie, who immediately wraps his arm protectively around her shoulder – ‘has plummeted on hearing your true reason for being here in Ballykiltara. And with that I bid you all goodnight.’
Donal exits as quickly as he can through the tables, then he marches out of the pub door.
I look at the others sitting around the table with a mixture of horror, shock and embarrassment on their faces.
‘I’m sorry about Donal,’ Finn apologises. ‘I’ll have a word with him in the morning.’
‘I’m sure he spoke in haste,’ Father Duffy says, tapping my hand. ‘He’ll come around.’
‘Always had too many words to say on too many subjects, that one,’ Ciaran agrees good-naturedly.
Eddie doesn’t say anything, he just hugs Kiki that little bit tighter, and I get the feeling he’s attempting to protect her from me now, as well as Donal.
‘Maybe he’s right,’ I say, looking down at the table. I fiddle with one of the biros that had been supplied to us for making notes throughout the quiz, even though Donal had used his own fountain pen to write our answers. ‘Maybe we have pushed things a little too far here. Perhaps it’s time to back off?’ I can’t look at Finn as I stand up. ‘I think it’s time I went. I hope at least I’ve been of some use here tonight.’ I put the pen down on the table and straighten it before I let it go.
Kiki stands up too.
‘No, Kiki, you stay and enjoy yourself with Eddie. I’m going to go back to the hotel and run myself a bath. I need to do some serious thinking about what we do and where we go next . . . ’
Twenty-Six
Before they can speak, I turn away from my remaining teammates and make my way out of the pub, stopping briefly outside to take a few breaths of fresh cool air, then I set off briskly along the street in the direction of the hotel.
This is not how I’d expected tonight to go. I thought I’d spend the evening answering a few questions while I looked out for men who matched my mental picture of our mystery caretaker. I did not expect to have my integrity questioned by Donal in front of my new friends, with half the pub looking on.
Why had Donal suddenly turned on me like that? Was it because he was frightened I might be about to unmask his secret? Or was it because he genuinely felt that strongly about The Welcome House, its history and traditions?
More importantly, why had his words hurt me so much? I’m used to people turning on me when they find out I’m trying to buy a property; it happens a lot when people think you’ve been sneaky or gone behind their backs – it’s a natural human reaction. But for some reason Donal’s words had hit home.
I’m so deep in thought as I walk along that I don’t hear footsteps coming up quickly behind me until someone calls my name. I spin around, half expecting to see Finn, but it’s not his towering figure I find trotting along the street after me, but the much smaller one of Father Duffy.
‘Ren, wait!’ he calls.
I stop so he can catch up with me. ‘What are you doing out here, Father?’ I ask when he breathlessly reaches my side.
‘I wanted to check you were all right. After what happened in the pub just now.’
I shrug. ‘Yeah, I’m OK. A bit shocked maybe, but that’s all.’
‘Shall we walk?’ Father Duffy asks. ‘I assume you’re heading back to The Stag?’
I nod and we begin to walk along the path together.
‘Donal didn’t mean to be so blunt, you know,’ he says, as we fall into step. ‘He’s very protective of this area; he’s lived here all his life. He was born in a house just along that street, I believe.’
I look down the street of terraced houses that Father Duffy is pointing to.
‘That’s nice . . . You say he’s lived here all his life?’
Father Duffy nods
.
‘Do you think he might be the caretaker of The Welcome House?’ I ask frankly.
‘Donal?’ Father Duffy says, sounding surprised. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘Apart from the fact he obviously knows a lot about this area and its history, it’s his manner – he’s eloquent, and he has very ornate handwriting, which would suggest he might be the same person who wrote Sarah’s letter.’
‘Sarah’s letter?’ Father Duffy asks, looking puzzled.
I tell him about what happened at the house last night with Finn and Sarah.
‘I don’t believe Donal is yer man,’ Father Duffy says when I’ve finished.
‘Why not? He fits the description Eddie gave, and his style fits the letter.’
‘But can you see Donal making up beds and stocking fridges? The other stuff might be his style, but not that. Donal is what you English call a snob. A lovely man, mind, but he knows his place in the system. He is definitely not one for household duties. He spends too much time overseeing the hotel staff to lower himself to taking on their responsibilities in his spare time.’
‘You might be right,’ I have to agree. ‘He didn’t react the way I thought he would when I told him I wasn’t really a writer. He was shocked, hurt even. If he was the person who wrote that letter, he would have known I wasn’t what I was pretending to be. The letter suggested the caretaker was concerned about being unmasked. That’s why he asked Sarah to step in.’
We’ve reached the steps of the hotel entrance, so we pause outside for a moment.
‘You know, I don’t blame Donal,’ I say, looking up at the outside of the hotel. Bright lights are shining through the tall ground-floor windows; it looks cosy and inviting on this dark and now very cool night. ‘He might have been a bit blunt, but some would say he was only being honest.’
‘Yes, they probably would,’ Father Duffy agrees.
‘And maybe he’s right: maybe I have overstepped the mark with this?’ Fearful of what he might say, I don’t look at the priest standing next to me. Instead I watch the wooden hotel sign with its dramatic painting of a majestic white stag swinging to and fro in the breeze.
‘Do you think you have?’ I hear Father Duffy ask beside me.
I shrug and turn towards him. ‘My head says no. It’s telling me I’ve done what I’m paid to do, I’ve found the perfect house for my client.’
‘I’m sensing a “but”.’
‘But . . . my heart is disagreeing with my head. My heart is wondering if I am doing the right thing. It’s wondering if I should step back and let this strange house with its even stranger stories be.’
‘And which one are you going to listen to?’
‘I’ll have to get back to you on that one, I’m afraid.’
Father Duffy smiles. ‘I think you should. Now, why don’t you go upstairs and take your bath, let yourself relax. The answers, I promise, will come to you.’
‘You’re very wise,’ I tell him, smiling now too. ‘I expect many have told you that.’
‘A few.’
‘Thank you.’ I go to hug him, then realise that it probably isn’t the done thing in Ireland to hug a priest. So I awkwardly reach for his hand instead.
‘You can hug me if you want to,’ he says, winking at me. ‘I won’t dissolve in a pool of Holy water.’
I give him a proper hug this time, and I feel Father Duffy’s hands gently tap my shoulder blades.
‘Now, I’ll be on my way,’ he says. ‘The night is still young and I need to find out where we’re going to sit in the league tables after tonight’s efforts.’
‘I almost forgot about the quiz with everything else going on. I’m so sorry to take you away from it. I expect Finn will have a drink waiting for you when you get back, though.’
‘Yes, he’s a good lad is that one.’ He pats the left side of his chest with the palm of his hand. ‘Remember your heart, Ren,’ he says, ‘not only in dilemmas about the house, but with other things that concern you too. Trust me, there’s more going on here than you realise. Come and see me tomorrow,’ he adds as a parting comment. ‘I think I have some things at the church that might interest you.’
I’m about to ask what sort of things, but he bids me good-night and begins walking back in the direction of the pub.
Looks like I’ll find out tomorrow then, I sigh, before I head inside the warm, welcoming and now familiar atmosphere of The Stag Hotel.
I’ve just run my bath, and I’m about to climb into what looks like heaven in bubble form to my tired body and overwrought mind, when there’s a knock on my hotel-room door.
I’d ordered a mug of hot chocolate from room service a few minutes ago, so I’m not too startled; I simply tie the hotel’s white bathrobe around me a little tighter and go to the door.
But it’s not one of the hotel’s many Eddie lookalikes in their smart black-and-white uniform that greets me as I pull open the door without bothering to look through the peephole, it’s a worried-looking Finn.
‘Sorry,’ he apologises on seeing me in my robe. ‘Were you about to go to bed?’
‘I was about to take a bath actually.’
‘I’ll go then.’ He turns to leave.
‘No, it’s fine. What did you want?’ I ask. ‘Is everything all right back at the pub? Is Kiki behaving herself?’
‘Oh sure, yes. She hasn’t left Eddie’s side all night.’
‘Sounds familiar.’
‘They make a cute couple. Poor Eddie will be heartbroken when you both leave.’
There’s an awkward pause, broken by the sound of the lift doors opening down the corridor.
Finn glances to his right to see who’s coming. ‘Room service,’ he says, watching someone walk along the corridor.
‘Oh, that might be my hot chocolate,’ I say as a young bellboy comes into view carrying a tray. He doesn’t look up until he gets level with Finn, so intent is he on not spilling the drink balanced in the middle of his silver tray.
‘Oh, Finn – I mean Mr Cassidy,’ he says, his tray wobbling so some of the chocolate spills on to the white coaster.
Finn grabs the tray from him to prevent any more spillages. ‘I’ll take that, Charlie,’ he says briskly.
Charlie, his face flushed, glances at me standing in the doorway. His face goes even redder.
‘Sorry, miss,’ he apologises. ‘I was fine until I saw Finn – I mean, Mr Cassidy.’
‘I know, he is a bit scary, isn’t he?’ I wink at Charlie. ‘I don’t blame you.’
Finn raises his eyebrows at me and I feel my heart beat inside my chest a little faster.
‘Should I go get you another?’ Charlie asks.
‘Yes please, but bring two this time, will you?’
‘Of course, miss.’ He turns to Finn. ‘Should I take that from you?’ he asks, holding his hands out for the tray.
‘I think you’d better,’ Finn says sternly. ‘And not a drop spilt next time, you hear?’
‘Yes, Mr Cassidy, of course.’ Charlie takes the tray and hurries back down the corridor towards the lift.
Finn watches him then turns towards me. ‘He’s new,’ he explains. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘It’s fine. Everyone has to learn, don’t they?’
‘I guess. So are you feeling thirsty or are you expecting Kiki back very soon? I have to say, by the look of her at the pub, I think that hot chocolate might be stone-cold before she gets to drink it.’
‘The hot chocolate isn’t for Kiki,’ I tell him, stepping back into the room and opening the door a little wider. ‘It’s for you. Coming in to drink it?’
Twenty-Seven
Finn’s stunned expression lessens, but remains on his face as he follows me into the room, closing the door behind him.
‘What about your bath?’ he asks, looking towards the bathroom door.
‘It can wait,’ I say, sitting down on the dressing table chair and swinging myself around in his direction.
Finn watches me, and no
t for the first time I catch him looking at my bare legs as my dressing gown rises up along my thigh.
I gesture towards the bed. ‘Take a seat.’
Finn sits himself formally on the end of Kiki’s bed because mine is still covered in my abandoned outfit from the quiz night.
‘So what do you want?’ I ask, trying to pull my robe down to cover my legs without being too obvious.
‘I’m sorry?’ Finn asks, looking astonished again.
‘When you came to my door, what did you want with me?’
‘Oh . . . yes, that.’ Finn’s expression changes to one of relief. ‘I wanted to check that you were OK – after what Donal said. I was going to come after you when you left the pub, but Father Duffy insisted he would go. Did he catch up with you?’
‘He did, yes.’
‘And did he have some wise words to impart? He usually does.’
I think about what the priest had said. ‘Yes, he did. Very wise.’
‘Good. I wouldn’t want Donal to have upset you.’
I smile at Finn. ‘That’s kind of you. It’s good to know you care.’
‘You’re a guest at our hotel. It’s my job to care.’
‘Oh right.’ I look away from Finn towards the generic hotel picture on the wall behind him of a vase of flowers in front of a window.
Finn looks behind him at what I’m suddenly finding so interesting.
‘Oh shit,’ he says, realising. He runs his hand nervously through his hair. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I care about you too – that goes without saying, doesn’t it? I thought you knew that.’
I can’t help smiling. Finn’s sexy when he’s being all bossy and commanding, but he’s even more attractive like this.
‘I know,’ I tell him quietly. ‘It’s nice to hear you say it, though.’
To my surprise, Finn grins at me. I’d thought we were having a moment. But as always he has to turn it into a joke.