“Yeah,” Beata said. “They missed their mummies.”
Paudie stared at them. “What? Would you mind saying that again?”
Megan drew breath. “You had the nerve to put those calves in my garden when my back was turned. A neighbour called to tell me they had broken loose and were on the road. He thought they were mine.”
“So, yeah, we thought we’d help you out a little,” Beata said. “Get those calves back where they came from.”
Paudie looked at the field, where the calves were trying to feed from the cows. “There’s a slight problem with that, though.”
Megan glared at him. “And what would that be?”
“Those are not my calves.”
Beata’s jaw dropped. “What? Not your—”
Paudie shook his head. “Nope. I put mine in the yard behind the barn. It’s not ideal, but as I had nowhere else to put them while I wait for the field I sprayed to be safe, I had to park them somewhere.”
“Shit,” Beata said.
Megan pushed back her hair. “But whose are they?”
Paudie looked at her as if he had just noticed she was there. “I didn’t recognise you at first. Megan, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
He studied her with an amused expression. “You look lovely tonight. Going on somewhere, are we?”
Megan pulled at her top. “I had to chase the calves through a hedge, and then I fell into a—”
He sniffed. “Yes, I can tell.”
“What are we going to do?” Beata said.
Paudie shrugged. “I’m going to go back in to finish my tea. I suggest you get the calves out of there and back down the road. I think they must belong to the Connolly-Smiths on the main road. They’ll be rather miffed about this.” He started to walk back to the house. “Tell Jack I said hello.”
“Shit.” Beata looked at Megan. “Oh, please, don’t cry.”
Megan blinked away tears. “Sorry. I’m just so tired and fed up.”
“This is all my fault,” Beata moaned. “I’m so sorry.”
“You were just trying to help.”
Paudie stopped by the door. He looked back at them and sighed. “Okay, come in, girls. We’ll sort it out. And I’ll give you a clean tee-shirt if you want to get out of that mucky one, Megan.”
“No,” Beata said. “I’m not going inside that house ever again.”
Paudie opened the door. “Suit yourselves.”
Megan hovered between solidarity to Beata and a clean tee-shirt. She took a deep breath. “Hang on. I’m coming.”
Paudie held the door open as she approached. “After you, your ladyship.”
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” Beata muttered darkly from the gate.
Chapter 5
A sharp contrast to the drab exterior, the inside of Paudie’s house revealed astonishing sophistication and artistic flair. Waiting for him to get her the promised tee-shirt from the bedroom, Megan looked around the living room.
The traditional farmhouse layout had been altered to knock two rooms together into one bright, inviting space. Colourful rugs lay on the wooden floor, a big chintz sofa with cushions and a mohair throw stood by the window. Two leather armchairs flanked the stove. A large pine sideboard at the far wall, where ceramic bowls and framed photos caught the sunshine pouring in through sash windows.
Pictures, posters and paintings hung in haphazard disarray on whitewashed walls, each one beautiful and intriguing with a common theme: nature.
Lost in a big poster depicting a mountain range with breathtaking views, Megan jumped when Paudie came into the room.
He tossed a tee-shirt at her. “Here. Put this on. You can put the other one in a plastic bag.”
Megan held up the tee-shirt. “I ‘heart’ Boston?”
“Yeah. Someone gave it to me when I left.”
“You were in Boston?”
“Yes. Spent five years there. Worked in an Irish pub, then did a course. Ended up in Vermont, teaching. Great place.”
“And you ‘hearted’ it?”
He laughed. “Yes, kinda.”
“So why did you come back?”
He shrugged. “Long story. Do you want to change in the bathroom? It’s through there on the other side of the hall.”
“Thanks.”
In the bathroom, Megan laughed at the muddy boots on the floor, the grimy towels and faint ring around the bathtub. Someone didn’t have his priorities right.
She carefully stripped off the smelly top and threw it on the floor. The tee-shirt, both big and wide, slipped down to her hips. It was a relief to wear something smelling of soap instead of cow shit. She kicked the soiled top under the sink. Sighing, she turned to the mirror and tried to smooth her tangled hair. Having rubbed the smudges off her face with the corner of a reasonably clean facecloth, she was satisfied she had done her best and returned to the living room. Finding it deserted, she walked through an open door into the kitchen, where she discovered Paudie making tea at the stove.
Unlike the living room, the kitchen was cluttered and untidy. But with the smell of newly baked bread and the warmth of the big stove, it was cosy and inviting. The checked curtains, scarred pine table and tiled floor added to a lived-in feel. A dresser crammed with mugs, plates and stacks of newspapers filled an entire wall. A farmer’s calendar, postcards and snapshots were pinned to a noticeboard.
Paudie offered her a mug. “Tea?”
“Thanks.” Megan took the mug. She removed a pile of sweaters and shirts from a chair and sat down.
Paudie joined her. “Tee-shirt okay?”
“Yes, thanks. It’s too big but lovely and clean.”
He got up. “I’ll get you the dirty one.”
Megan put a hand on his arm. “No, it’s okay. You can throw it in the bin. I don’t think I’ll ever want to wear it again.”
“All right.” He pushed a plate across the table. “Pizza. Cold now, but still okay. You want a piece?”
Megan picked up a wedge. “Oh, thanks. I haven’t eaten since lunchtime. I’m starving.”
He helped himself too and they munched in silence.
Megan wiped her mouth. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“Okay. Listen, I called the Connolly-Smiths. They’re sending up the lads with a trailer to get the calves. Once we have that sorted, I can drive you back to your house.”
“What about Beata?”
He shrugged. “She left. Saw her walk down the road.”
“Oh. But… I came in her van, so if she drove off, I’ll have to walk back to Castlegregory. I’m staying at The Blue Door, you see.”
“I’ll drive you over.” He pushed a bread basket at her. “Here. Some fresh soda bread.”
“You baked it?”
“Ha, ha, no. I get it in Lidl in Tralee. Then I warm it in the oven. There is a limit to my talents.”
Remembering Beata’s words about his talents, Megan blushed. She took another slice of pizza and nibbled on it. Paudie slurped his tea. A grey cat padded in through the half-open door and slunk around their legs, meowing. Paudie poured some milk on a saucer and put it on the floor. The cat lapped it up, then sat back and started to clean itself.
There was an awkward silence, as Megan tried to think of something to say. “What you said earlier… about Uncle Pat and him leaving the house to me…”
“What did I say?”
“You said ‘the crafty bastard’ and laughed your head off.”
Paudie nodded. “Yeah, that made me laugh. Thought that was very funny. Everyone wondered who’d get the farm and the bit of land. They were all bending over backwards to please him the last few years. But the old fox never let on. So he made a will, did he?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’ll be…” Paudie chuckled. “The Quinns will choke on their porridge when they find out.”
“Who are the Quinns?” Megan demanded. “And why will they choke?”
“Molly’s family. They thought they’d get
the house and the bit of land. Always going around saying Pat had promised them. Ha. He fooled them until the very end. And Dan Nolan knew this all along, I bet. Never said a word.”
“Why would he?”
“Indeed,” Paudie said. “Why would he? Probably had great fun knowing about it and watching the Quinns suck up to Pat. Anyway, none of my business. Glad he willed it to you and not those ugly mugs.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “What are you going to do with it?”
Megan found she didn’t want to talk about her plans to Paudie. “I don’t know yet.”
As if sensing her discomfort, he changed the subject. “So, you’re a friend of Beata?”
“No, we only just met today. She invited me to go to the pub and then, when I heard about the calves, she offered to help.”
“Some help. Great opportunity for her to cause me trouble.”
“Yes. I didn’t realise that’s what she was up to. But it had something to do with your relationship a while back. None of my business, I know but she said—”
Paudie put his mug down with a bang. “You know the saying about ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’?”
“Yes?”
“Same thing applies here. I’m not going to ask you about your sex life, so you stay out of mine, okay?”
Megan blushed. “I wasn’t going to—”
He glared at her. “Like hell you weren’t. Women are all the same. Poking into everybody’s love life and trying to analyse everything. Then they think they have all the answers, and before you know it, they’ve moved in and are tidying up your sock drawer and making you eat healthy food.”
Megan blinked. “Where did that come from? We’ve only just met. Why would I be the slightest bit interested in you?”
His eyes softened. “Sorry. I’m a little bit touchy about that subject. Look, you and I should get on. We’re related after all.”
“We are?”
He nodded. “Yes. Only by marriage. Your Aunt Molly was my grandfather’s sister.”
Megan laughed. “That’s amazing. Then you’re related to a man I met in the pub tonight. Tom Quinn.”
“Tom? Yeah, my mother’s cousin. But we’re not too fond of each other, and that’s putting it mildly. He’s one of those Quinns I told you about.”
“I didn’t take to him. He was quite nasty, but I think he was drunk.”
Paudie nodded. “Very likely. He’ll be as mad as hell he didn’t get the house. He and his brother were smooching old Pat the last year or so. But he was clever enough to take what they offered and then do what he wanted all along—give the farm to Sean’s daughter. The two of them must be livid. I’d stay away from them if I were you.”
“Don’t worry. I intend to.”
He held out his hand. “Friends, then ‘cousin’?”
“Of course.” She took his rough, calloused hand. “Not quite cousins, so yes, friends. Sounds good to me.”
He put his other hand over hers. “Friendship is better than love. Lasts longer.”
“Absolutely.” She looked into his bright blue eyes. “I’m off men at the moment, anyway.”
He let go of her hand. “That makes two of us.”
She giggled. “You’re off men, too?”
“I’m off everybody, girl. I’ve had a rough year.”
“Me too.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. Bad marriage. Divorce. That sort of thing.”
“That’s tough.” He touched her shoulder. “If you want someone to talk to, I’ll listen.”
“I think I’ll leave that one in Vegas too, for the moment.”
“Of course.”
A rumble outside cut into the silence. Paudie got up. “I’ll go and help the lads get the calves. Then I’ll drive you over to the B and B.”
Megan rose. “I’ll tidy up the cups.”
He winked. “Thanks. But leave my sock drawer alone, will you?”
***
Three battered vans loaded with surfboards stood outside The Blue Door when Paudie’s jeep pulled up in the drive.
“Beata must have some new guests,” Megan said.
Paudie leaned over and opened the door for her. “Surfers. They’re here for the competition tomorrow.”
“I see.” Megan got out of the car. “Thanks for the lift and the tee-shirt. I’ll bring it back later.”
“No problem. See you soon, love.” Paudie slammed the door and drove off.
The hall was piled with bags and wetsuits. Three men enjoyed a cup of tea in front of the fire in the sitting room. Megan nearly crashed into Beata coming out of the kitchen with a loaded tray.
“Oh, there you are. Still alive then? No obvious cuts and bruises I see.”
Megan laughed. “No, he was perfectly civilised. Drove me home.”
“He must be feeling sick or something.” Beata pushed the tray at Megan. “Could you bring this in? I have to make some more sandwiches.”
Megan took the tray. “Okay. Who are they? Did you know they were coming?”
Beata sighed. “Yes, I did, but I forgot it was this weekend. And Boris is still in the pub, so I’m all alone. He’ll stagger home sometime after midnight, I’m sure, and vomit on the cat and fall asleep in the kitchen. So I really need a little help here.”
“Of course. I’ll bring this in, and then I’ll go and change my clothes. What else is there to do?”
“Just making ten beds and putting clean towels in the bathrooms,” Beata groaned.
“Okay. I’ll help you with that.”
“Thanks. You’re a star.”
Megan carried the tray into the living room. “More tea?” she said.
One of the men got up. “I’ll help you with that.” Deeply tanned, his hair was bleached nearly white by sun and salt.
“Thanks.” Megan gave him the tray. “Was that an Aussie accent I heard?”
“You sure did. He put the tray on the coffee table. I’m from Sydney.” He pointed at his friends. “This is Jean-Luc from Biarritz and Dave from New Jersey.”
“Hi,” Megan said. “Hope you have a good day tomorrow.”
“Should do,” Dave said. “Great waves are forecast. Lots of surfers from all over the world, so the place will be hopping.”
“I’ll go and watch tomorrow,” Megan promised. “Good luck.”
The men smiled and nodded. Megan went upstairs and started to make up beds.
Beata joined her a little later. “Thanks for helping out.”
Megan flicked a sheet open over the bed. “No problem. You’ll have a busy weekend. Are you sure you don’t need my room?”
Beata stuffed a pillow into a pillowcase. “No, yours is a small double. They want twin beds so they can share, and they need the bigger rooms. But I’m afraid I’m all booked out after the weekend. The summer will be very busy, right into August. But you were just staying until Sunday night anyway, weren’t you?”
Megan sank down on the bed. “I was but… now that I’m here and have been to the house again, I’m beginning to feel I should stay around for a bit longer. I haven’t much to go back to, really. I lost my job and have to move in with my mother.”
Beata joined her on the bed. “Why don’t you stay then? I could use some help, so if you’d like to earn a little bit of money, it might suit you, too.”
Megan pondered this for a moment. “What sort of things would you want me to do?”
“Boris and I do the breakfasts, so that’s okay. Then we have to make beds, clean rooms, do the shopping. You could help with that. Maybe be here in the afternoon when guests arrive to say welcome and give them a cup of tea. Organise the online bookings. I can pay you two hundred euros a week during the high season, as we have so many guests.”
“Yes… well… that sounds fine. I wouldn’t mind that at all. But—”
“Yes?”
“I have no place to stay.”
“Yes, you do. You have a house only ten minutes’ drive from here.”
“But it’
s a wreck,” Megan protested.
“So go camp in it. It’s the summer. All you need is a roof over your head. I’ve some stuff left over from when this place was done up, all piled in the garage. I’m sure we can find a mattress at least.”
“Oh, well…”
Beata pushed at Megan. “Go on, don’t be a wimp. You have to decide what to do with it, one way or another. It’s your house.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. But live in it?”
Beata gave her another shove. “Go and claim it before someone else grabs it.”
“How do you mean?”
“That house is hot property, you know. A lot of people would kill to own it.”
Chapter 6
“Hot property,” Megan grunted, pulling her end of the mattress up creaking stairs. “That’s a laugh.”
“You just don’t know anything about land or what sells,” Beata panted at her end lower down. “Come on, stop moaning and get this bastard up.”
Megan stopped to wipe sweat from her upper lip. “Why did Boris have to go and have a surf lesson just today? He could have thrown this up with his little finger.”
Beata put the mattress down for a moment. “Boys have to have their fun. I have to let him out now and then, otherwise he gets morose. Drinks vodka and sings Russian songs about the Volga and bursts into tears. Letting him surf is easier.”
Megan laughed. “You two have the strangest relationship.”
Beata lifted the mattress. “Works for me. Come on, I haven’t got all day.”
They finally got the mattress up the stairs and into the front bedroom, where they propped it on its side. Megan opened the sash window. “At least this one isn’t broken.”
“You should get the broken ones fixed,” Beata remarked. “I’m sure the frames need to be replaced, too but if you get someone to put in new glass it’ll do for now.”
“That’s the first thing on my list. That and having the back door repaired.” Megan took the brush Beata had lent her. The floorboards were covered in a thick layer of dust and mouse droppings. A stale smell rose as she brushed. She wrinkled her nose and tried to breathe through her mouth.
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