The Matchmaker

by Marita Conlon-McKenna

  She unpacked her bag and then, after studying the spa menu again, opted for a quick swim and a turn in the hot tub, and then she’d go for a walk to get her bearings and maybe book in tomorrow for a head massage and facial and an eyelash-tint.

  She pulled her swimsuit from the case wishing that she had managed to stay on the Atkins Diet for a month instead of a measly six days, which had resulted in only a three-kilo loss. Tucking in her tummy she wrapped herself in the plush folds of the Anua wrap and slipped her feet into the matching cosy towelling slippers and made her way to the pool. Four other guests were already there and Maggie nodded to them as she slipped into the water and began to swim. The pool was amazing, giving the impression of being out in the open but protected from the elements by glass. One section of the glass concealed a door which opened to the open-air part of the pool and the magnificent hot tub and sundeck. She swam a few lengths up and down before stepping outside and into the hot tub. A couple in their thirties and an elderly woman in her seventies already seated there were chatting easily about the glory of the place and the dinner menu for the night.

  ‘The food here is divine,’ the older lady, who was a regular, assured them. ‘Better than most fancy restaurants and it’s all organic and natural.’

  ‘I heard that they grow most of the vegetables themselves,’ Maggie ventured.

  ‘If you go for a walk down past the rose bushes and follow the path you’ll come to the kitchen garden, the vegetable fields and the glasshouse. It’s full of tomatoes and I saw strawberries there. It makes a change to know where your food is coming from.’

  The couple, Renata and Karl, were German and recommended the reviving mud bath. ‘Your skin will be glowing after it,’ promised Renata.

  ‘I’ll give it a go,’ Maggie said as she watched them walk off hand in hand. Yes, Leo would definitely have loved this place. OK, so she might have had to drag him kicking and screaming but once he’d arrived he’d have relaxed totally and gone with the flow. He’d have tried everything. She sincerely hoped the place wasn’t full of couples as it would only emphasize her own loneliness.

  Strolling around the grounds she spotted three girls Grace’s age, a pre-wedding treat she imagined as she heard one of them mention guest lists and tables. She had ordered a herbal tea and a brown scone in the lounge, which she enjoyed before changing and heading off for her mud wrap. The Hungarian therapist patiently explained the benefits of the mineral-enriched treatments as Maggie tried to stop herself getting a fit of the giggles when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked like a big fat mud-baby and she thanked God there was no one around to witness the state she was in. The separate cubicles beside her were occupied and she heard a masculine guffaw of laughter from the one beside hers.

  ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet,’ said the hidden voice and Maggie laughed so hard that she thought that she was going to crack all her drying-out mud. After an hour the therapist cleaned her off with a strong spray of water and then massaged her with a sweet-smelling almond oil. Her skin felt like a new baby’s and she discovered that she was absolutely starving.

  Back in her room she ignored the temptation just to crawl into bed and order room service and put on a turquoise linen dress that Leo used to like, clipped on the silver designer earrings that Grace had given her two Christmases ago and slipped on a pair of summer slingbacks. Her skin was glowing and she already felt as if she had been away for a few days. She grabbed an Anita Shreve paperback along with her handbag and made her way to the fabulous lakeside dining room. Candles flickered on every table and many of the tables were already full. She was shown to a small side table where, while perusing the dinner menu, she took a good look at her fellow spa guests. Couples; a group of girls away from their office giggling and chatting at the big table in the centre; the wedding girl and her two friends; and a small group of mature people who were arguing in the corner over wines. She’d order, read, eat quickly and slip away to bed early, she decided, but for the moment she’d enjoy the view as the sun set slowly over the water, the sky tinged with crimson.

  Leila her waitress was chatty and friendly and was pleased to tell her about the various dishes. She had no intention of dieting strictly here and opted for the healthy eating options which included salmon served on a bed of summer salad, followed by roast lamb and sweet potato and vegetables. She wouldn’t drink a bottle of wine on her own and ordered a glass of chilled Chablis to start. She hated picking wines and had always relied on Leo’s knowledge to guide her and was relieved to find the wine she’d chosen was perfect. Two very pregnant friends sitting at a table close by her ordered a fruit punch as they tucked into two big steaks and a gigantic salad.

  She relaxed, sipping her wine and, trying not to eavesdrop on their conversation, picked up her book so she didn’t look quite so forlorn.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said a voice and she looked up over the rim of her reading glasses. ‘I was sitting over the far side of the room and I noticed that you are on your own. I was wondering if you would like to share a table over dinner, enjoy a bit of conversation and companionship as we eat.’

  Tight-cut silver hair, a broad face, attractive in an ageing rugby player kind of way, a wedding ring firmly on his finger, she noticed.

  ‘Only if you want to,’ he added, about to move away.

  ‘That would be lovely,’ she found herself saying, slipping her book off the table and back into her bag. ‘Please sit down and join me,’ she offered.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course,’ she reassured him as the waitress carried over his drink from the other table and placed the bottle of red wine in front of them.

  ‘I’m Myles, Myles Sweeney,’ he said, introducing himself as he sat down.

  ‘And I’m Maggie Ryan.’

  ‘I often find that there is nothing harder than sitting at a table in a restaurant on your own,’ he said.

  Maggie had to agree with him. It was a situation she hated and avoided as much as she could. Often she went hungry rather than face the embarrassment of eating alone in a restaurant or hotel. A little company for an hour was certainly not going to kill her and might actually be fun!

  Over dinner she discovered that he had been widowed two years ago: his wife Patricia had died of breast cancer. He had two grown-up sons, two daughters-in-law and five grandchildren.

  ‘Patricia was there for the weddings and three of the christenings and got a few years longer than her doctors and everyone expected,’ he confided. ‘She was a great mother.’

  Maggie told him about Leo and her own loss, and could see the understanding and sympathy in his eyes. The two of them laughed out loud when they discovered that each had been sent to the spa by their respective families.

  ‘The girls were determined to send me, get me out of their hair. My youngest is throwing a party tomorrow night and doesn’t want her elderly mother there cramping her style!’

  ‘Less of the elderly,’ he retorted. ‘Besides I can’t imagine you would cramp anyone’s style!’

  ‘Well, I try not to,’ she admitted.

  ‘My boys are going on about me losing weight,’ he confessed, offering her a glass of red wine. ‘It’s hard. Ever since Patricia’s death, I tend to eat a lot of takeaways or have big business lunches. It’s no fun cooking for one or just using those microwave meals. The boys worry about me and thought I should take a bit of time out for myself. Fresh air and a healthy regime! I had that mud wrap thing earlier and it’s like being trussed up like an oven-ready chicken; you should have seen the state I was in!’

  Maggie burst out laughing. ‘I heard you,’ she admitted.

  He was a nice man and rather funny and to her surprise Maggie found herself relaxing and enjoying uncomplicated male companionship. He insisted on her sharing his wine and Maggie, looking around, felt the two of them were the same as everyone else here as they chatted and relaxed. They both went for fresh raspberries and cream for dessert; over coffee Myles told her about
his business. She noticed people moving across to the comfort of the lounge with its plush couches and footstools, and was surprised when Myles excused himself and said goodnight, thanking her for the good company.

  ‘Goodnight,’ she said watching his tall figure lumber past the waitress, who had started to clear the tables.

  She yawned. Perhaps it was time she went to bed herself, the goosedown quilt and crisp clean sheets beckoned. She would read for a bit.

  Standing out on the wooden deck in the moonlight before slipping between those sheets, she thought of Leo, so far away, in another world, another dimension. ‘Goodnight, my love,’ she whispered as she closed the door and pulled the curtains.

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Sarah’s heart was in her mouth when she heard that Aunt Kitty was sick and it looked as if her mum’s trip to the spa in Kilcara was about to be cancelled. Her mother had encouraged her to invite a few friends over on Saturday evening and already she had invited fifty people to a ‘small party’ in the house and she had visions of a nightmare day trying to scale it back.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Grace asked on the phone from Amsterdam where she was assessing a property for a client.

  ‘Fingers crossed Mum will still go. She was on to the manageress of the spa and she said they can’t refund the cost at this late stage. She was even trying to get me to go with her but I said I couldn’t because of Evie, and anyway I’m looking forward to the party.’

  ‘The party will be great, Sarah. I’ll phone her and encourage her to go on her own,’ promised Grace. ‘And I’ll see you tomorrow night. My flight is the last one out of Schiphol to Dublin so I’ll probably come straight on, OK?’

  Maggie Ryan, despite her qualms, had indeed gone on her own, and had insisted on donating half a dozen bottles of white wine to the party and told Sarah to use her candles around the house and garden.

  ‘Candlelight always adds to the atmosphere, no matter what the time of year,’ she said, hugging Sarah goodbye. ‘Have a great time, pet, and say hello to everyone from me.’

  Sarah spent the whole of Saturday cleaning and tidying the place and setting up tables in the garden. She had made a big dish of spicy chicken and another of minced beef in a light chilli sauce; she would serve them with tacos and fajitas and all the trimmings and two huge bowls of salad. Everyone could help themselves. She believed in keeping it simple. She would lay them out on the big table in the kitchen and if the weather was good people could go outside and find a seat. There were fresh towels and clean soap in the bathroom, and her mother’s clutter of newspapers, magazines, letters and papers that strewed the kitchen and the living room were banished to her dad’s old study. A quick run of the Hoover and a few flowers from the garden flung into her mother’s collection of glass vases and the place looked great.

  Angus had surprised her with some crates of beer which he put to chill in the fridge and in Evie’s old baby bath in the back garden. He’d also bought giant bags of tortilla chips and crisps.

  ‘I’ll give you a hand to set up,’ he offered, helping to position one of the speakers out in the garden.

  She had spent the past few days sorting out her CD collection and had downloaded some great stuff on to her iPod to play.

  Evie was completely over-excited, running around the place stealing crisps from the bowls and asking who was coming.

  ‘Angus and all my friends,’ Sarah told her. ‘Auntie Grace and Orla and Liam and Karen and Mick and lots of people.’

  ‘Can I stay up for the party?’ she pleaded, her face eager.

  ‘You can stay up for a little while,’ she promised, ‘but you have to swear to go to bed when I say so.’

  Evie hesitated, her lower lip signalling stubbornness.

  ‘Otherwise you’ll have to go to bed before the party starts,’ Sarah threatened.

  Evie had agreed and after a quick tea they both had got dressed up in their party frocks. Sarah wore a pale green dress with a cross strap that she’d bought in Coast and a pair of gold sandals, while Evie as usual opted for her fairy dress.

  The place looked amazing and Sarah couldn’t believe her good luck with the weather, which was holding fine as the first guests arrived. She went out of her way to introduce Angus to everyone and was glad that Karen and Mick had gone to the trouble to bring a bag of jelly dinosaurs and a Barbie colouring book for Evie along with some wine.

  ‘Thanks for being so thoughtful.’ She hugged her best friend and led them through to the kitchen and garden.

  ‘I’m bagging a chair as I’ve no intention of standing all night,’ Karen insisted, throwing her handbag and wrap across one. ‘Only five weeks to go to D-Day, thank God!’

  Orla and her fiancé were next and Evie was thrilled to hear everything about their upcoming wedding and the fitting for her dress.

  ‘How’s my favourite flower girl?’

  Evie did a twirl in her dress and showed how she would walk solemnly up the aisle.

  ‘Perfect,’ enthused Orla, giving her a big hug and a kiss.

  As more and more people arrived they spilled out into the garden.

  ‘Ronan!’ screamed Sarah as Ronan Dempsey, looking dashing in a cream linen jacket and sand-coloured chinos, arrived. She had invited him but hadn’t really expected him to come all the way from London.

  ‘Another weekend in Dublin, honest is it any wonder I’m torn between the two places? Thank heaven for Ryanair.’

  She grabbed his arm and introduced him to as many people as possible. She couldn’t believe the huge crowd. She’d give it another while and then start serving the food. Angus was a great help and had taken over the awful job of opening wine bottles. Ronan and he were getting on famously with Ronan regaling him with tales of a Hogmanay trip he’d taken to Edinburgh four years ago.

  Irina had come along with a tall good-looking guy. He was Polish too, and seemed very keen on her, judging by the possessive way he kept his arm around her for the night.

  Mark McGuiness to her surprise had also turned up brandishing a huge bunch of flowers and two bottles of red wine. She had invited him as a way of saying thanks for helping with Evie’s broken arm.

  ‘It’s not my birthday!’ she giggled, giving him a big hug.

  ‘A lady should always receive flowers,’ he teased, ‘no matter the occasion.’

  She dragged her new neighbour along and introduced him to a few of her schoolfriends and to Karen and Mick, only to discover he already knew Mick through some kind of business connection.

  ‘He always knows people no matter where we go,’ remarked Karen, glancing proudly at her husband.

  Sarah was having such a good time that she almost forgot the food and had to turn on the cooker and oven in a hurry and give everything a quick blast. Irina gave her a hand to set it all out on the massive table which was bathed in candlelight.

  Everyone took a plate and began to line up to help themselves. Grace arrived at last and immediately grabbed their mother’s blue-and-white-striped apron to help her serve the food.

  ‘Thanks,’ Sarah gasped, relieved to have an extra pair of hands.

  ‘Wow, you’ve got a great crowd,’ said Grace admiringly, looking around the room.

  ‘Just friends.’

  But they were good friends. They had stuck up for her and stood by her during bad times when she was low and lonely and now that good things were beginning to happen she wanted them to be able to celebrate them too.

  ‘You never told me that he was coming!’ whispered Grace, pushing her fair hair back off her face.

  ‘Ronan? I didn’t know myself that he was.’ Sarah laughed, glancing out towards the garden where Ronan was sitting at the table stuffing himself with a fajita packed with cheese and mince and peppers.

  ‘No, I mean Mark.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Grace, of course I’d invite him. He’s our neighbour and a friend!’

  Sarah couldn’t believe the way Grace’s face flamed and decided to say nothing else as Cl
odagh Flannery, who lived on the far side of the square, was already busy chatting Mark up. Clodagh usually had men falling at her feet, with her jet-black hair and perfect model figure, and had broken up only eight weeks ago with a member of the Irish rugby team. From the kitchen window Sarah could see Evie was beginning to wilt and excusing herself went to check on her.

  ‘Come on, fairy girl, time for bed!’

  ‘Mummy, I’m not tired yet,’ she protested, her eyes heavy with sleep. But once reminded of her promise Evie said a reluctant goodnight to everyone.

  Grace stepped in and offered to put her to bed. ‘It’s your party, Sarah. Besides, how often do I get the chance to be with my fairy goddaughter?’

  She was so lucky that Grace as well as being a great auntie was the perfect godmother and took the role pretty seriously. Sarah kissed Evie and then went to check that everyone had drinks. Everyone had eaten now and the food had been cleared away, she put out a few nibbles for anyone who was still hungry. The party atmosphere was really relaxed now, and one group were dancing outside on the patio.

  Grabbing a glass of wine, Sarah went outside to join Ronan, Karen and Mick, Mark and Clodagh and a few pals from Art College whom she hadn’t seen for years. Ronan was deep in a discussion with them about the vibrant art market in the city and which were the best galleries to show in.

  ‘Hey, party lady, what about a dance,’ interrupted Angus, coming up behind her.