Rory’s father, Paddy, a rosy-cheeked, roundish man with a waistcoat and a pipe, came to greet them. ‘Lucy, my dear, it’s a pleasure to meet you,’ he said as he kissed her on each cheek. ‘It really is,’ he repeated, smiling at her with great affection before turning to greet his son.
Rory’s older sister Trish, her husband Andrew, and their younger brother Dermot came out of the sitting room to join the welcome party.
‘The whole McCullan clan!’ said Rory. ‘Aren’t we spoilt!’
‘Well yes, except for Ronan, but he doesn’t count,’ said Dermot, giving his brother a bear hug.
‘What’s he doing again, the cheeky blighter?’ asked Rory.
‘Poor old thing’s at some big family do with the in-laws,’ explained Trina. ‘We barely see him these days.’
‘Unlike some people who we can’t seem to get rid of no matter how hard we try,’ laughed Paddy, gesturing towards Dermot with his pipe.
‘I thought you lived in Dublin?’ Lucy asked him.
‘I do!’
‘He just comes home pretty darn frequently for a bit of home cooking and Trina’s free launderette service!’ said Paddy.
As they made their way through to the sitting room, Lucy chatted to Trish. ‘You live in Dublin too, don’t you?’
‘Yes just south of Dublin, though sadly we rarely get the chance to make the most of it these days,’ said Trish. ‘We don’t get out much now we’ve got the three little ones.’
‘You should get Dermot to babysit!’
‘Hah, fat chance!’ laughed Trish. ‘Though all three of my brothers are excellent uncles, so I shouldn’t complain!’
‘Are they asleep? I’m dying to meet them,’ said Lucy.
‘Mercifully they are, though they will no doubt be hammering on your door in the morning at some ungodly hour, begging Rory to take them on one of his famous adventure treasure hunts. They’ve been banging on about it all day! I can only apologize in advance for my unruly offspring… especially the twins!’
Rory, having overheard their conversation, decided that it was a great idea. They would set up a trail in the woodland surrounding the house; it would be a good way to show it to her. The children could then follow the trail to the treasure later on.
As she watched the McCullans, Lucy decided that Dermot was a very handsome younger version of Rory, with slightly paler brown hair that was even more dishevelled. He looked like an Indie pop star and Lucy could imagine young girls swooning at his green eyes. Trish was more like Trina in appearance. With Rory’s hazel eyes and her mother’s dimples, she was a very attractive lady. They had clearly had a boozy Friday night dinner as they were all cradling glasses of red wine and tumblers of whisky. Drinks were quickly fetched for the new arrivals and the rest of the evening was spent catching up on all the family gossip, and the more important task of getting to know Lucy. She felt one hundred per cent relaxed in the McCullans’ presence, they were incredibly genuine, down-to-earth people and, as she had expected, made her feel like she was part of the family within minutes.
When the grandfather clock in the hall chimed midnight, their conversation finally paused and motions were made to start drifting up to bed. Trina and Paddy went up first, closely followed by a yawning Trish and Andrew, no doubt conscious of the fact that their children’s natural alarm clock would be waking them at the crack of dawn, and promising to try to delay the terrible twins’ exit into the rest of the house for as long as possible. Dermot, Lucy and Rory finished off their drinks as the last flickers of flame crackled and hissed before finally dying out, leaving a bed of embers glowing in the great open hearth beside them. Rory picked up the gilt fire guard and moved it in front of the fireplace before they heaved themselves out of their comfortable chairs to retire for the night.
As they climbed the creaking wooden staircase, Rory hauling both of their bags up with him, they whispered goodnight to Dermot, trying not to make any noise that might wake the little ones. They crept down to the room at the end of the corridor and dumped their belongings on the floor, collapsing in an exhausted heap on the hand-sewn patchwork quilt that Rory’s grandmother had once made him.
As Lucy’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, she gazed around Rory’s bedroom, imagining him as a small child, this view of the world being the one most familiar to him, and she felt a real pang of love for that little boy and the man that he had become. She suddenly had an overwhelming need to tell him that she loved him, though now was hardly the right time. If she was about to find out she was pregnant he might then feel pressured into staying with her, or worse he might leave her and then where would she be…how would she cope knowing that he loved her but that she had ruined everything? She had known for quite some time that she loved him with every single cell in her body and she simply couldn’t imagine her life going forward without him in it. She wondered if he felt the same way… she fervently hoped that he did. She had often felt sure that he was about to tell her, but so far neither of them had bitten the bullet. She knew that she would wait until he told her that he loved her first, it was such a big deal to utter those three little words out loud. There had been too much heartache in her life and for once she wanted to be sure that he wasn’t saying anything because he felt he ought to, or worse, as Alex had told her when they broke up, because he felt under too much pressure from her, her family or her friends due to their age.
Her gaze settled on a row of little trophies. They were lined up on a wooden shelf by the windows, which were draped with red and white chequered curtains. ‘What are these?’ asked Lucy, sitting up and pointing at what was clearly his prize collection.
‘They’re sports trophies from school,’ explained Rory. ‘I used to be quite the sportsman when I was younger, don’t you know. PE was definitely my favourite subject!’
‘Sweet! A young athlete,’ said Lucy, wandering around the room to look at his old photographs, books and the pictures that hung slightly lopsided along the walls. There was a little framed pencil drawing of the farm, signed ‘Rory, age 10’, hanging by the bed. ‘Did you do that?’ she asked, laughing. As Rory nodded, she said, ‘Wow, you were so talented even back then!’
‘You’re too kind,’ he said, taking off his jumper and T-shirt in one fell swoop, revealing his muscular torso and dark, hairy chest. ‘So, what do you think?’ he asked.
‘I think I want to rip off the rest of your clothes!’ said Lucy, running her fingers down his chest and breathing in his musky aftershave, as always a stream of electricity darting through her from head to toe.
Rory laughed, ‘That is not what I meant!’ taking both her hands in his as he faced her and kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘What do you think of the place, of my family?’ he asked, sincerely waiting for her opinion.
‘I adore them; they are just the loveliest people I could ever hope to meet. And I love the farmhouse, I just wish it was morning already so we could go and explore! I am dying to see it all in the light of day.’
‘Well that’s just as well,’ said Rory, ‘because if I get my way you’ll be coming here an awful lot more as time goes on, not to mention spending a lot more time with my family!’
‘That’s good,’ said Lucy, as she kissed him, and they lay back on the bed and tried hard not to make any sounds that might give away their late night activities to the rest of the household.
Chapter Thirty-Three
As expected, Lucy and Rory were rudely awakened by the pummelling of tiny fists against the wooden door. There was no lock, but at least the twins had knocked before bursting in with the strength and enthusiasm that only two nine-year-olds could muster. Despite the early hour, the identical blond boys came barrelling into the room at what felt like a hundred miles an hour, with decibel levels through the roof as they shrieked, ‘Uncle Rory!!’ and jumped on to the bed, paying little attention to the newcomer in the room.
Muttering under his breath, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get rid of them!’ to Lucy who was still half asleep, he s
houted, ‘Right, you little rascals!’ and got out of bed. He scooped up both of the offending children, one under each arm, and carried them out of the bedroom so that Lucy could have a little longer in bed. She could hear the boys shrieking in delight as they were taken downstairs and out of earshot by their beloved uncle.
Having given herself time to wake up properly, Lucy tiptoed down the corridor and washed herself in the ancient enamel bathtub, brushing her teeth and drinking some water. She was still feeling tired and a little disorientated, something she hoped was down to waking up somewhere new and nothing more. She was beginning to feel terrified that she might be pregnant. Excited too, in a way, for the desire for a baby had not left her, but terrified about what such a revelation would do to Rory, to their relationship. It was all so perfect, she was so happy and she just couldn’t bear the thought of putting it all in jeopardy. She knew that she couldn’t go back in time, but if she had only known Rory was about to come into her life she doubted she would have gone through with the treatment. She would much rather have the chance to create a family with him, with the man she loved.
Back in the bedroom, Lucy opened the little curtains and gasped as she took in the view. The rolling hills, all different shades of green, were spectacular, some covered in woodland and some stretching up and out towards the sky. In the background she could see the famous Great Sugar Loaf. A smattering of snow coated the top like white icing on a sticky bun. She could see at once why Ireland was called the Emerald Isle and in particular why Wicklow was known as the ‘Garden of Ireland’. It was breathtaking.
Suddenly feeling as excited as she had done as a small child on Christmas Eve, she longed to get outside and explore. She pulled on a pair of jeans, some boots and a coral jumper, applied some make-up, and then went downstairs to find Rory. He was in the kitchen with Trina, Trish, the twins Connor and Darragh, and Trish’s younger daughter, Rosie, who was five. They were all sitting at the table happily munching on bowls of cereal of various sizes, reminding Lucy of the bears in the story of Goldilocks with their bowls of porridge.
The children peered shyly at Lucy through their blonde fringes, pausing mid mouthful with spoons in the air to size up this newcomer into their midst.
Trina said, ‘Good morning, love!’ giving Lucy a hug before turning to her grandchildren. ‘Kids, I would like you to meet Lucy, Uncle Rory’s lovely girlfriend!’ she said.
They spluttered ‘Hi!’ and ‘Morning!’ in response, the boys giggling into their cereal at the word ‘girlfriend’, before returning to the much more important task of eating breakfast. Rosie continued to fix Lucy with her dark brown eyes, smiling coyly whenever she caught Lucy returning her gaze.
Rory set about making Lucy a cup of coffee while Trina enquired whether she had slept well and if she was feeling okay. She wasn’t feeling particularly hungry, but thought it would be rude to turn down breakfast, so she agreed to a piece of toast and sat down with the others at the large, scrubbed pine table, the wood etched with markings from over a century of happy family meals.
After breakfast, Rory announced that he and Lucy had work to do. ‘We’ll be gone for an hour or so,’ he said.
The twins started to bounce on their seats in excitement.
‘Are you going to make us a treasure hunt, Uncle Rory?’ asked Connor.
‘Pleeeeeeease!’ begged Darragh.
‘PLEEEAASE!’ they all pleaded as Rory and Lucy pulled on coats and boots and made their way to the door.
Refusing to reveal the motive behind their early morning excursion, he said, ‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ ruffling the three curly mops of hair and laughing at their expectant, pleading faces.
He led Lucy out of the back door and they stalked across the lush green grass down the hill away from the house. The sun glistened on the coating of frost that clung to each blade, creating an optical illusion of stalks of crystal shattering underneath their wellington boots. Behind the house the mountains stood majestically like ancient leaders calmly surveying their realm. At the bottom of the hill dense woodland spread out before them, an enchanted forest full of whispering trees and secret hiding places.
‘These are the famous woods,’ said Lucy, clapping her hands in glee. ‘Are we going to see the treehouse?’ she asked.
‘We certainly are,’ said Rory. ‘And on the way, we’ll set out our clues.’
‘What’ll the treasure be?’ asked Lucy.
Rory reached into his Barbour pocket and pulled out a bag of sweets that he had picked up duty-free. ‘Trish’ll kill me for the sugar high!’ he chuckled mischievously as he dangled the cellophane bag stuffed with jewel-coloured wrappers in the air.
‘Oh dear! As if those boys need any more energy than they already have!’ laughed Lucy. ‘Right, you had better show me how to make the trail; I’ve never made a treasure hunt before!’
For the next hour or so they trudged through the woodland, stamping on bracken and flattening out the pathway as they went. They used little twigs to create arrows at various intervals along the way, showing the route. Whenever the path became unclear they made a cross on the floor, instructing the explorers to turn back. It was great fun. Rory was fuelled by memories of his childhood, mucking about in the woods with his siblings, and he recounted them to Lucy as they worked. At the end of the trail, Lucy finally laid eyes on the huge, ramshackle tree house that Uncle Seamus had built.
‘There it is!’ Rory said.
‘Oh, WOW!’ said Lucy. ‘It’s so much more incredible than I expected.’
It really was quite a feat. The rooms were constructed around the thickest, sturdiest boughs of three towering oak trees. A complex system of ropes and pulleys threaded through the woodwork. A recently replaced rope ladder dangled from the left-hand side.
‘Wait there,’ said Rory. ‘I’m just going to check it out to make sure it’s all safe then you can come up.’ Rory grabbed hold of the ladder and held it steady before scrambling up it with surprising ease. A patch of sunlight streamed through an opening in the trees where a tree stump stood like a welcoming seat.
Feeling ludicrously exhausted after the morning’s exertions, Lucy sat down and basked in the sunshine while she waited.
A few minutes later, having completed some basic checks on the tree house, Rory helped Lucy up the ladder, holding it for her as she pulled herself up. She gasped in delight as she reached the top, imagining how exciting it must have been for them all as small children to have this amazing den. Rory showed her around and they peered out from the windows, the perfect position to spy on the world below. He proceeded to show her all the best secret hiding spaces, and how to operate the pulley to haul up the tray for snacks. Lastly, Rory led her over to his favourite spot, a wall full from top to bottom of carvings, etched by tiny hands with rusty penknife blades, their names and the names of their friends, complete with dates and coded messages in spiky, childish writing.
‘How sweet!’ Lucy cried, running her fingers over the uneven surface of the wood. Suddenly, she spotted a new addition to the etchings, clearly freshly carved in the top right-hand corner a short while before, while Lucy had been waiting on the tree stump. The letters R and L were encased in a wonky heart, the date etched beneath it. Lucy looked up at Rory who was watching her reaction. ‘You did one for us!’ she cried. ‘I can’t believe it!’
‘It’s meant to tell you something,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t put just anyone’s name in this sacred space, y’know!’ he muttered, pulling her towards him and wrapping her in his warm embrace. He kissed her, and said, ‘I love you, Luce.’
Overwhelmed with emotion, tears sprung into her eyes as she kissed him back, happiness radiating from every cell in her body. ‘I love you too, Rory,’ she whispered, hugging him back. She had no idea how long they stood there, kissing and holding each other through their smiles, a bubble of happiness isolating them from the rest of the world.
Later, having hidden the bag of sweets in a suitably secret alcove in the tree hou
se, Lucy and Rory walked hand in hand back to the farmhouse, unable to wipe the broad grins from their faces, like a pair of lovesick teenagers.
By the time they got back to the house, Connor, Darragh and Rosie were about to explode with excitement. They barrelled into the garden at breakneck speed, sprinting down the grass to start looking for clues, Rosie trying her best to keep up with her brothers. The adults all joined them as they walked through the woods, following the trail that Lucy and Rory had carefully laid out for them. The treasure was discovered by the boys in record time, and kindly shared with Rosie who was teetering from her father’s shoulders, having grown tired of the search. With the bounty safely stowed in the children’s coat pockets, the whole party trudged back to the warmth of the cosy farmhouse, ready to devour a hearty lunch of fish pie and peas that Trina had prepared that morning.
In the afternoon, Rory took Lucy on a tour of the local area in their hire car. On the way home they stopped off at his local pub. Lucy was delighted to discover a group of musicians playing Irish jigs on their fiddles in the corner. The rest of the customers all seemed to know the tunes and were singing along. There was a lot of feet stamping, impromptu shouts and trills, and even a sweet little girl who was ushered into the middle of the pub to dance. Lucy was very impressed with the speed at which her legs moved, flicking upwards and side to side as though she were a puppet with strings being pulled this way and that. All the while her back was straight, with her arms held firmly by her side, a lovely smile fixed on her sweet little face. Lucy was feeling rather nauseous. She ordered a Diet Coke, hoping the bubbles would help settle her stomach, while Rory had the obligatory pint of Guinness.
That evening the whole McCullan family sat down to dinner together, a tasty roast that everyone had helped to prepare that afternoon while Lucy and Rory had been out exploring. It was a very happy meal, full of laughter and chatter. Lucy had to strain her ears at times to stay abreast of the conversation, they all certainly had the gift of the gab and she had to concentrate to keep up with their rapid-fire talking. Rory’s accent was now stronger than ever and she loved seeing him so relaxed in his home surroundings.
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