He gave her a big smile. ‘I’d be happy to help you if you need any information on the area. I’m actually working on an oral history project about the Hill of Tara at the moment.’ He took out a pen and notebook and scribbled his name and number. ‘Perhaps you could ring me when you’re more settled. I’ll do what I can to help.’
She looked at it. ‘Thanks, Rohan. If it’s no trouble.’
‘No, it would be my pleasure. It’d be good to catch up properly, hear all your news.’
Just then he pushed back the sleeve of his jumper and glanced at his watch.
As he did so she looked at his arm and saw a long scar. ‘Good God, Rohan, is that from the accident on Tara that night? After that…’
‘Spin the Bottle game we played? Yes it is.’
‘I thought you’d just broken your arm. I didn’t realise you’d done that as well.’
‘I did break it. But that fence post gave me a fairly spectacular gash before it got to the bone.’
She winced. ‘Can I see?’
Rohan rolled his sleeve up further. The white of the scar was very obvious, running from just below his wrist, over his elbow and further up. ‘It shouldn’t have left such a scar, but the doctor on duty that night wasn’t the best, I’m afraid, and he made a bit of a mess of things.’
She touched it without thinking. Then it felt like too intimate a thing to have done and she moved back. ‘But there was no lasting damage, was there? I mean, it still works and everything?’
He flexed it. ‘Almost like new. It just looks like that.’
‘Rohan, I’m so sorry. I never realised it was that bad.’
‘It was a tragedy. All those ambitions I had of being a male model destroyed in one moment.’
‘We’re ready for you, Rohan.’ A voice behind them. It was the librarian. In the corner of the library a group of schoolchildren was waiting.
He turned to her. ‘I’m giving a talk about Newgrange. You’re welcome to stay, get a refresher course on local history if you like.’
For a moment she was tempted, needing all the distraction she could get at the moment. Then she decided she had enough to think about now before she started learning about life five thousand years ago. ‘Thanks anyway, Rohan. Another time perhaps.’
The man was haunting her, she decided as she got into the car. Appearing out of the darkness that first night on Tara, now here in the library. As she drove out of the car park and headed back towards the B&B, she remembered the first time she’d met him, nearly eighteen years back, when he’d first moved back to Ireland from England with his family. He’d been paraded in front of the class, all of the kids looking curiously at him as the teacher introduced him. Mrs Byrne had known the whole story, sharing it with the family over dinner one night. Rohan’s mother was originally from Dunshaughlin, had married an English fellow, gone to Birmingham, had a daughter, Caroline, and then Rohan some years later. But then her husband had died and she’d decided to come back to her home place.
‘Where’s the sister, then?’ Lainey had asked.
‘She stayed over there apparently. Studying in London or something. Hard on Rohan, wouldn’t you say? Be nice to him, Lainey, won’t you? You too, Brendan and Declan.’ Hugh had been in his pram then, too young to be nice to anyone yet.
‘Yes, Ma,’ they’d chorused.
It had been easy to be nice to Rohan, Lainey recalled. He had been friendly, easy-natured, gangly but good-looking even back then, with his dark curly hair and blue eyes. He had fallen easily into her group of friends, joining in as they hung around the schoolyard together in the day time, and then in the back lanes and fields around Dunshaughlin in the weekends and holidays, arguing, flirting with each other, playing games, messing around. She cast her mind back, trying to recall all the details of the night when their games had gone a little too far. There had been about eight of them, fifteen and sixteen years old, three boys, five girls, gathered in her living room, taking advantage of the fact her parents and brothers were in Dublin for the day. It had been her idea that they play Spin the Bottle, starting with the innocent version of the game, trading in dares rather than kisses. Lainey remembered hoping it would move on to the kissing version. She’d had her eye on Niall Hogan for a while. And perhaps even Rohan as well? she thought now. The first few spins had been very ordinary. ‘I dare you to run into the kitchen and drink all the milk in the refrigerator.’ ‘I dare you to stand up and sing the national anthem right now.’
Lainey remembered being impatient. ‘Come on, let’s make them much more exciting.’ Her spin of the bottle had pointed straight at Rohan and she’d said the first thing that came into her head, influenced by a class trip they’d had earlier that week. ‘I dare you, Rohan Hartigan, to ride across the Hill of Tara on a motorcycle.’ She remembered everyone’s shocked reaction.
Eva had been especially appalled. ‘Lainey, he can’t! What if he damages something?’
Lainey had stood her ground. ‘A dare’s a dare, isn’t it, Rohan?’
Rohan had hesitated, looked around the room at all the others watching him, then after a long pause, accepted the dare.
Two nights later, a gang of them had gathered at Tara, whooping as Rohan turned up on a motorbike ‘borrowed’ from a neighbour. Lainey could remember the feeling of excitement, the knowledge that she had made this happen, that it was her dare that had brought all of them up there. It had been a powerful feeling. But that feeling had quickly faded away.
Rohan had done one circuit of the outside of the Hill when it happened. They’d heard the rev of the engine and judged him to be near one of the big mounds of earth when the engine sound abruptly cut out. His back wheel had slipped in the muddy ground, throwing the bike off balance, sending Rohan flying from the seat into the remains of a fence post.
They had all run towards him, Lainey with her heart thudding, excitement turned into fear and guilt. Eva had been in tears beside her. ‘Oh, Jesus Mary and Joseph, he’s not dead, is he? Oh, Lainey, what if you killed him?’
Lainey had wanted to slap her for saying out loud what she herself had been thinking. ‘Of course he’s not dead,’ she said, running as fast as she could towards the figure just visible in the grass ahead of them. ‘He’s got a helmet on. He’ll be fine.’
He had been dazed, moaning in pain but alive. The worst sight had been his arm, bent into an ugly shape, the denim of his jacket torn all around it. Lainey had felt a sudden rush of nausea, a cold then hot sensation. ‘We need an ambulance,’ she’d said. ‘Evie, run to the shop, quickly. If they’re not there, then keep going. Go to Aunt May’s house. Just hurry.’
Lainey and three others had stayed with Rohan. He was breathing still. One of them went to take off his helmet. ‘Leave it,’ Lainey had ordered. ‘Don’t touch him. In case.’
‘In case what?’
In case his back is broken and we make it worse, she thought. ‘Just in case.’
Twenty minutes later the ambulance had come. They had all stood and watched, Eva and Lainey tightly holding each other’s hands, as Rohan was picked up and put on the stretcher. Lainey was still the spokesperson. The others looked for her to ask the ambulance people the question. ‘Is he all right?’
‘Don’t know yet. What in God’s name were you kids doing? Have you all gone mad, or something?’
‘It was a game, a dare,’ Lainey had said in a small voice.
‘He could have been killed. A stupid dare if you ask me.’
She’d called his mother first thing the next day, her own mother standing behind her, still angry and as worried as Lainey herself was. ‘What in God’s name were you all doing there?’ Mrs Hartigan had asked. ‘What was this ridiculous business about a dare?’
‘Rohan told you about that? He’s talking?’
‘He’s talking but he hasn’t said a word about what happened. The ambulance man told me. Good God, Lainey. What were you all thinking?’
‘It was my fault, Mrs Hartigan. I dared Rohan to do
it.’
‘Then, young lady, you very nearly killed my son. I’ve grieved for a husband already and I do not want to grieve for a son. You stupid, silly girl.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she’d said again, nearly in tears. ‘Can I come and see him, say sorry?’
‘No, you can’t. You keep away from him.’
‘I just want to apolo–’
‘No, Lainey.’
She’d tried later in the week to get in to see him, but Mrs Hartigan had told the nurses not to let anyone in. One of the nurses, the big sister of one of her friends, had taken pity on her. ‘So it was your fault. Well, no wonder she won’t let you in. I can’t either, Lainey. She’d kill us if she found out. Can I give him a message for you?’
‘Tell him…’ She stopped. ‘No, I’ll write him a card.’ She’d gone to the shop in the hospital and bought the first card she picked out, a hideous one with a photo of a kitten nestled in a basket of flowers. She wouldn’t have given it to her grandmother if she had one, let alone Rohan, but this was no time to be choosy.
Rohan, I’m so sorry this happened, she’d scrawled. I’m thinking of you and hope we can still be friends.
Still be friends? Was that right? She’d hardly known him, really. But it was too late, she’d written it. How to finish it, though? Love Lainey? Best wishes Lainey? She’d settled on Yours sincerely, Lainey.
That night at home, her father had announced to the family they were emigrating to Australia. She hadn’t seen Rohan again before they left. And she’d certainly never known about that scar.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘OKAY. NOW, CAN YOU go back to your car, drive back a bit and then come in and start from scratch?’
‘Lainey, we just got out of the car,’ Eva protested. ‘And it’s freezing out there.’ She and Joseph were standing on the porch, raindrops in their hair, damp coats over their arms, and bags on the floor beside them.
‘I know it’s cold, but we have to do it properly. I wouldn’t normally greet my guests with a big hug, so we’ve got off to a false start. I really need you to come to the door and pretend you’re casual guests this time, so I can get the whole thing sorted out in my mind.’
‘And I suppose you’ll make us do it again if we don’t knock properly, will you? Well, you’d better think again because it’s lashing rain out there and the sooner we get shown to our room and get a drink by the fire, the better.’
Beside her, Joseph was laughing openly. Lainey turned to him for sympathy. ‘Joe, you understand what I’m doing, don’t you? You’re an artist, you know how important it is to visualise something before you do it properly.’
‘I know how important it is to let you get your own way.’
She swatted him with the tea towel she was holding as Eva pulled on her thick coat again, flicking back her black plait. ‘All right, Lainey, we’ll do it. But can we do the entrance just the once? At least until the rain’s stopped?’
‘We’ll see. Okay, lights, camera, action – go.’
Eva and Joseph went out and got back into their car. Lainey went back to the kitchen and fussed around the Aga, checking the temperatures. It was working very well, keeping the whole house nice and warm. And she had been right – the plume of smoke from the chimney did make the house seem more welcoming. She waited for the sound of their knock.
Five minutes later she was still waiting. She’d heard the car start up and had assumed they were moving it closer to the house. She looked out of the window – there was no sign of them. Good God, was there some sort of Black Hole on these roads? Perhaps that was where all her guests had disappeared to. The Bermuda Triangle of Ireland.
By the time they pulled up twenty minutes later she was out by the gate in her raincoat, an umbrella held up above her head. Eva wound down the window.
‘I don’t think that’s quite the right look, Lainey. It’s a bit desperate.’
‘Where were you? I thought you were just going to turn the car and come back up.’
‘You told us to pretend that we were proper tourists,’ Joseph said as he got out of the driver’s seat.
‘So we did as we were told,’ Eva said. ‘We stopped at a shop back on the main road and said we were on a trip around the country, felt like staying in the area and could she recommend anywhere?’
‘And?’ Lainey asked, as they quickly walked up the path together, the three of them crammed under one umbrella.
‘And she recommended every place in a ten-mile radius,’ Eva said.
‘Except mine.’
‘Except yours,’ Joseph said.
‘So we said what about that Green Gables one, down the road from the Hill of Tara. That looked nice,’ Eva continued.
Lainey opened the porch door and let them both in before her. ‘And what did she say about it?’
Eva looked at Joseph. ‘She sort of shuddered, didn’t she?’
‘Shuddered?’ Lainey said.
‘Maybe shuddered is a bit strong,’ Joseph said. ‘Trembled, perhaps.’
‘You two, come on. What did she actually say?’
‘She said she hadn’t heard good reports about that place. We said, what do you mean? And she said the old woman who used to run it was a bit of a battle-axe, prone to lecturing people a bit. And the rooms used to be cold.’
Joseph took up the story. ‘So we told her we understood it was under new ownership. And she said that could only be good and that she wished the new owner luck.’
‘Well, it’s bad news but brilliant market research. Well done.’
‘So can we come in now?’
Lainey slowly shook her head. ‘Sorry, no. You really do have to do it properly. Back out to the car, come on.’
‘Lainey…’
‘Please? For me? It’ll be fun, really.’
Once again, Eva and Joseph went out to their car.
Two hours later, just as night had fallen, they were finally allowed to drop the tourist personas and be themselves.
They were both now stretched out on the sofas in the sitting room, cups of tea in hand. Lainey came in with another log of wood and threw it into the fireplace. She’d had the fire going since early that morning and it had warmed up the room nicely. She picked up the teapot and topped up their cups. ‘So what do you think? Do you need a moment to compare notes or do you want to just hit me with the bad news?’
Eva looked at Joseph. ‘Will I go first?’ At his nod, she pulled out her own notebook. ‘The first problem is where you’re situated.’
‘Oh, no worries then. I’ll get the house moved.’
‘Lainey, you asked us down to tell you what we thought.’
‘Sorry, go on.’
Joseph spoke up. ‘From what Eva had said, I thought it was on the main road to Tara but you’re actually tucked away down this laneway. You’re not going to get much passing traffic, are you?’
‘Not unless tourists are keen to see the cows in the field across from me, no.’
‘That’s a shame. And the sign on the front of the house is hard to see, which doesn’t help. You’re nearly past the house before you notice it and these roads are hard to turn around in. If I was a tourist and happened to be on this lane, I’d probably keep driving until I found another B&B up the road.’
Eva was looking at her notes too. ‘There’s still lots of ivy over your sign, Lainey, which makes it even harder to see. You’ll have to cut it all off or pull it down or something.’
Lainey made a note.
‘The driveway is good,’ Joseph offered. ‘The gate is wide and there’s plenty of room for parking.’
‘Fabulous. I can open a car park if nothing else.’
‘And the fact that it’s an old house is in your favour, from a tourist point of view. Lots of B&Bs are in suburban houses, so this one has a bit of character at least.’
‘Oh yes, it’s a real character.’
Eva ignored that. ‘Your greeting, that final one, was a little sudden. But that was probably because you were ly
ing in wait behind the door waiting for us to ring the bell.’
Lainey nodded sheepishly. ‘It did seem a bit desperate, I suppose. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably be in the kitchen.’
‘Good. That might lessen the shock value. Just try and give people more than one second after they ring the bell before you open the door. You nearly gave us a heart attack.’
Lainey poked out her tongue.
Eva consulted her notes again. ‘Now, moving on to the accommodation aspects. The first two rooms are okay – nothing special, just okay. But a bit dank. The front two are fine, lovely even, but too old-fashioned. But there’s a funny smell in one of those small back rooms, a kind of mousy smell.’
‘Mousy? As in a smell left by mice? Are you telling me I’ve got mice here?’
‘You might have,’ Eva said matter-of-factly. ‘It’s a house in the country, it’s been empty for a while. You might want to set a few traps, just in case.’
Lainey made a note.
Set LOTS of traps
She didn’t like mice.
Eva went on. ‘Now, this room is gorgeous, especially with the fire going. The tea you brought us was lovely, but it would have been nice to get a biscuit after our long drive from Cork.’
‘Cork? You drove down from Dublin.’
‘We were method acting by that stage,’ Joseph said.
‘The breakfast room looks nice,’ Eva continued. ‘The classical music playing is good, and the flowers on the table are a nice touch. I like your idea of having the fire burning and the morning papers there too, though it means you’re going to have to be up very early.’
‘I’ll be up for my run, in any case. But there’s something else wrong with the breakfast room, isn’t there? I can tell by that look on your face.’
Eva was trying not to smile. ‘I think you’ve gone overboard with the choice of cereals. Either muesli or cornflakes would probably do. You don’t really need the other six varieties. It’s like a supermarket shelf in there. Besides, you’re giving them the full Irish breakfast as well, aren’t you?’
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