“This website.” The man waved a piece of paper at Megan. “Kerry farmhouse near beach and mountains. In need of some repairs,” he said with a sneer. “That’s the understatement of the year.” He spoke with a cut-glass British accent.
Megan blinked. “What website?” She snatched the paper from the man. “What’s this? Daft.ie… Oh. It’s on the web. I had no idea.” She shrugged and smiled. “I’m sorry. I’m the new owner. My uncle left me the property in his will. I had no idea it was still up on the Internet.”
The man looked sternly at her. “Can you prove it?”
“Prove what?” Megan asked.
“That you’re the owner. Do you have deeds or any other proof of ownership?”
Megan took a step back. “Yes…I mean, no. It’s with some of the things I left in the B and B I stayed in last night.”
“In that case, we can still look around.” The man took the piece of paper from Megan.
Megan felt a rising irritation. “Who gave you keys to get in, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Uh,” the woman piped up, “we don’t have keys. We found this on the Internet and thought we’d come to have a look. The back door was open, so—”
“You thought it was okay to break in?”
“We didn’t break in,” the man said. “The door was open.”
“It’s broken,” Megan snapped. “But in any case, wouldn’t it have been more correct to call the estate agent and make an appointment for a viewing?” She marched into her room and found her phone. “I’m calling my solicitor. He can confirm what I just said.”
The woman tugged at the man’s sleeve. “Alistair. Please. Let’s go. We can check this out with the estate agent.”
The man didn’t move. He kept looking at Megan, as if he was torn between believing her or brazing it out. “All right. We’ll leave.” He dug into the inside pocket of his wax jacket. “Here’s my card. If you really are the owner and you’d be interested in selling, give me a call.”
“I’d prefer you to contact the agent, and make an offer.” Megan took the card. “Then I can consider it and maybe negotiate a price.”
“Very well. We’d like to look into buying the whole property with the land,” The man said in a more polite tone. “It has planning permission for a caravan park. But we were thinking more like a boutique site. Very few mobile homes and a little fish restaurant.”
“Sounds like a total nightmare,” Megan said. “But we’ll see. I’d like you to leave now, if you don’t mind.”
The woman started down the stairs. “Come on, Alistair. Can’t you see we’re disturbing her?”
Alistair followed her. “I’d be prepared to make a good offer,” he said over his shoulder. “How about giving me a call when you’ve thought it over?”
“Talk to the agent, and I’ll consider your offer,” Megan said.
The door slammed. Megan padded to the window and watched them get into a Land Rover and drive off. She looked at the card. Alistair Cooper-Maxwell. An address in Weybridge, London. She stuffed it into the breast pocket of her shirt, leaned her elbows on the windowsill and looked at the beach, the blue ocean and the endless sky. She turned her face to the sun and closed her eyes, cleared her mind of what had just happened, and smiled as she thought of the kiss on the back step the night before.
***
“Why is my house advertised for sale on the Internet?” Megan tried to keep her voice cool.
“Is it? I had no idea.” Dan’s voice brought her instantly back to the night before. “How are you today?”
Megan cleared her suddenly dry throat. “I’m fine. Please answer the question. Oh, and another one. Is there planning permission for a caravan park?”
Dan paused. “Oh, yes. I remember now. That was an old thing. Pat applied for that about two years ago. But I think it’s expired by now. Planning permissions last two years, and then you have to apply for a new one. I’ll look up the date.”
“I see.” Megan put her hand to her chest, trying to slow down her heartbeat. “It’s just that there was a couple here this morning, walking around the house, with details from Daft.ie. An English couple. I think he’s some kind of developer. They just walked in. I was still in bed.”
“Oh shit. I hope they didn’t scare you.”
“I got a bit of a fright, to tell you the truth. Of course, it was easy to just walk in. The lock is broken, and the hinges are so rusty on the door that it can’t be closed properly. I’ve called a locksmith to come and fit a new lock later today. Don’t want to be surprised like that again so early in the morning.”
“Sorry about that. I’ll get on to my dad. Tell him you want to sell.”
“Okay.” Megan paused. “Thanks.”
“I’d like to see you again,” Dan said after a brief silence. “Can I call around tonight?”
Her knees shaking, Megan sat down on one of Beata’s kitchen chairs. “No,” she heard herself say. “I… Could we meet at the pub?” She suddenly didn’t want to be alone with him.
“Cold feet?” he asked with a hint of laughter.
“Mm. Something like that.”
He laughed. “Okay. We’ll go back to the beginning. A first date.”
“That would be nice.”
“Mulligans at seven? We can have dinner there.”
“Great. I’m sure the door will be fixed by then. But I’ll call you if there’s a delay.”
“Okay. See you then.”
Megan hung up. She knew she should get the tea tray ready for guests arriving soon, but she couldn’t move.
Beata, carrying two shopping bags, pushed the back door open. “Who was that?”
Megan smiled. “Hmm, yes ...” As if awakened from a deep sleep, she looked at Beata. “What?”
Beata put the shopping bags on the table. “I asked who were you talking to.”
Megan came back to reality. “Dan Nolan.”
“Oh. Did he explain why your house was still out there on the Internet? And if the planning permission thing was true?”
“Yes.”
Beata leaned forward and stared at Megan’s face. “Hello? Anybody home? What’s wrong with you?”
Megan played with the fringe of the table cloth. “Nothing. Everything. He asked me out.”
Beata sat down. “What? Dan Nolan asked you out? Why is this a problem?”
Megan looked at Beata. “I’m scared.”
“Aha! Scared. Means you’re hot for him, yes? And that you feel if you get involved, he’ll hurt you in the end because of what that creepy husband did to you. And you don’t want to go all the way because sex with the hubby was so fantastic, you don’t think anyone can match that.” She drew breath. “Or… you’re afraid Danny boy will be an even better lay so, then you’ll be twice as hurt.”
Megan laughed. “You must be psychic.” She sighed. “Yes, I’m scared. Not because of what he’ll do but because I might mess it up again. The break-up of my marriage was partly my fault. I think I was too critical and demanding. And maybe I should have given him more support when he started that new job.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Beata soothed. “Even if you were too demanding or whatever, couldn’t it have been solved if you had talked about it?”
Megan sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Stephen never wanted to discuss his feelings or mine. He didn’t like conflicts. But maybe he really didn’t want things to be resolved? Maybe he was happy to have an excuse to leave me?”
“No use crying over that now,” Beata remarked. “This time you might be lucky. Or Dan might be the kind of guy who shares his feelings. But there’s only one way to find out. And that’s to go out with him and try to get to know him better.”
“Probably,” Megan agreed. “I’m not sure what I want to do.”
“Do you know what I think you should do?” Beata sprang up from the table. “First, a shot of vodka. Then a cup of coffee. Then we’ll get to work and serve tea to Mr and Mrs Lindholm from Swe
den, who’ll be arriving in about half an hour.” She took a bottle and two shot glasses from a cupboard. “Then you’re going to tart yourself up and look absolutely ring-a-ding-drop-dead gorgeous and knock Danny boy’s eyes out. Sounds good so far?”
Megan giggled. “Yes, apart from the last bit. Don’t think that will be possible.”
Beata pushed a glass at Megan. “Here. Down the hatch. Gives you the courage of ten lions.” She knocked back her own drink. “Ahhh. Great. Polish vodka. The best.”
Megan picked up the glass. She looked at Beata and knocked back the drink. It hit her mouth like acid, then slid down her throat like a burning flame and settled in her stomach with a warm glow that instantly relaxed her. She smiled. “Wow. Yes. Thanks.”
Beata waggled her finger at Megan. “You’re going on that date. You’re going to look fantastic. And you’re going to have fun. That’s an order.”
“Yes, boss.”
“And park all your feelings and fears at the door. If you just remember that all men are bastards who will break your heart in the end, you’ll be all right.” Beata started to make coffee.
“How do you manage that?”
Beata whipped around. “After that time with Paudie, I decided to act like a man. Take the sex, enjoy it but treat them like shit. Never, ever let them know how you feel about them. That keeps them guessing and scared.”
Still feeling the afterglow, Megan put her glass on the table. “Scared? Because they don’t know if you love them or not? If you’ll dump them in the end?”
“You got it.”
***
Beata’s words rang through Megan’s mind as she got ready to meet Dan. The bathroom in the old house was less than inviting, but the water from the stream she had hauled up in a bucket was soft on her skin and felt good despite the cold. She could have had a shower in Beata’s bathroom but felt she needed to be alone before she faced Dan. She didn’t want Beata to comment on her choice of white trousers and light blue shirt. Not sexy, but fresh and cool.
She inspected herself in the cracked mirror and was pleasantly surprised. She didn’t look bad at all. Her red hair, washed in rainwater, shone with honey highlights. She had a light tan already and didn’t need much make-up, apart from a touch of mascara.
Excitement made her cheeks pink. Fear gave her eyes a wide, vulnerable look she couldn’t disguise. Treat them like shit, she said to herself as she grabbed her bag. This will be my new mantra.
***
She forgot the mantra when she spotted Dan at the bar. He looked as clean and fresh as she felt, in navy polo shirt and jeans, with his white sweater across his shoulders.
He rose as she approached, took her hand and kissed it. “Hello, gorgeous.”
She pulled her hand away. “Hi.”
He put his hands up. “Okay, first date. Won’t put a finger on you all evening. Promise.”
Disarmed, she smiled. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”
“Door all fixed?”
“Yes. And the guy helped me fix the hinges, and he rehung the door as well. Wasn’t cheap but worth it.” She dug around in her handbag. “I have an extra set of keys here. Maybe you should have them in case something happens.”
He pocketed the keys. “Okay. Good idea.” He pulled out a chair. “But let’s sit down and order a drink.”
As they sat down, he said, “I have some news. An English businessman has made an offer on your house. A bit more than the original bid. Two hundred and seventy K, he said. But he wants to do a survey before he buys.”
“Really? Must be the guy who barged in when I was asleep.” Megan paused. “I’ll think about it. Sounds like a good offer, though.”
“It is. But let’s not talk business on our first date.”
Megan returned his wide smile. “Yes. First date. Feels a little silly to be on a date at my age, but what else is it?”
“Well, whatever it is, we’ll take it nice and slow. I can tell that’s what you want.”
“Your powers of observation are right this time.”
He laughed. “Yes, I think they’re back. And I actually like taking it slowly. Go with the flow, you know?”
***
He kept his word. Awkward at first, a glass of wine helped to make her feel a little more relaxed. They chatted casually over dinner. Dan was courteous and pleasant. Megan began to think she had dreamed the kiss on the back step. And maybe she had. She returned his gaze with cool detachment, while repeating Beata’s mantra over and over in her mind.
“Coffee?” Dan asked.
Megan jumped. “What? Sorry. I was miles away.”
“Am I boring you?”
“No. It’s been fun. But I have so much to think about. These past few days have been incredibly busy. I feel as if I’ve stepped into some kind of other dimension, or a parallel universe. Mad, isn’t it?”
He laughed. “No, it’s just Kerry. It’s like another planet.”
“The dark side of the moon, my mother says. But she doesn’t like Kerry much.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why?”
Megan ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “I don’t really know. I think there was some kind of row when we were here that summer. I remember the last few days. My mother was very quiet, and Uncle Pat and Aunt Molly didn’t talk much to either of my parents. Then we never went back.”
“The letters I brought you might throw some light on it.” Dan waved to a waitress. “Did you say yes to coffee?”
She shook her head. “No. Can’t drink coffee this late, or I won’t sleep.”
“Doesn’t bother me. I’ll have a coffee, please,” he said to the waitress. He turned back to Megan. “You haven’t told me much about yourself.”
She laughed. “Probably because we were busy talking about you.”
“Well, you asked. A lot. And I replied.”
“A lot.”
“Uh, yes.” He looked at her with curiosity. “So who are you, Megan O’Farrell? Tell me.”
She shrugged. “Nothing much to tell. I’m quite ordinary really. At a loose end right now, I suppose. I lost my job at the department store. Seem to have lost my husband too.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were a widow.”
“No,” Megan said. “We broke up.”
“Oh.” Dan looked relieved. “I thought he was dead.”
Megan shrugged. “He is to me. I’ve killed him a thousand times in my imagination. A slow, painful death, involving private parts. Very comforting and healing.”
He laughed.
She glared at him. “You think that’s funny? My husband left me. That didn’t make me laugh. Oh, I know, it’s a classic. Husband falls for younger, more attractive woman. Hilarious.”
He put a hand on her arm. “No, I didn’t mean—”
She pulled away. “I know what you’re thinking. But do you want to know what I’m thinking right now?”
He looked uncertain. “Yes? No… maybe I don’t. I have a feeling a barrage is coming, and I don’t have anywhere to hide.”
She stood up, the chair scraping on the floor like nails on a blackboard. “I’m thinking, if you really want to know, that here I am, at the age of thirty-eight on a fecking date. Like a teenager. And you’re sitting there, thinking I’m easy meat.”
He shot to his feet. “I didn’t think—”
“Yes, you did. You all do.” She held out her hand. “Let’s go back to where we were. Client and solicitor.”
He took her hand and held it in both of his. “Please, Megan. Sit down. Don’t leave in a huff.”
His beguiling smile melted her anger. Feeling foolish, Megan sighed and smiled. “I was going to leave in my car, actually.” She pulled away her hand and sat down. “You’re right. I overreacted. Sorry. I’m still a bit raw.”
He settled back on his chair. “It’s quite understandable. And I’m really sorry about all of that. Can’t have been easy.”
“No. But I shouldn’t take it out on yo
u.” She smiled at him. “I’m really sorry about that.”
He put his hand on hers. “That’s absolutely okay. I understand how strange it must feel to be out on a date or whatever you want to call it.”
Megan breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I really appreciate you being so understanding. These past few days have been a bit confusing too, with the house and everything.”
He withdrew his hand. “Of course. So, on the subject of the house… You want to sell, is that it? Must say, I’m not surprised.”
Megan sighed. “I don’t have a choice. The repairs are going to cost too much. I do have some money after the sale of our house in Dublin, but I’m afraid to spend it all on this house. Even with my severance pay and the salary Beata pays me, I still have to sign on the dole to get that little bit of extra. It would be crazy to sink all my savings into a house.”
Dan nodded. “Yes, I see that. You should sell. That offer I told you about is a good one. You should take it. Then you could of course buy a small place around here, as you like the area so much. Or a mobile home out on the Maharees.”
“True. I could. Won’t be the same, though. The location of Uncle Pat’s house is unique. I haven’t seen anything like it in this area.”
Dan nodded at the waitress as she arrived with the coffee. “Thanks.” He turned to Megan. “You could sell the land and stay in the house. But then you’ll probably have a caravan park next door.”
“Not something I’d like to live with,” Megan agreed.
They were interrupted by the sound of a tin whistle playing a slow, lilting tune. A woman’s voice joined in, singing a lament in Gaelic.
“Forgot to tell you,” Dan whispered. “It’s music night. Traditional music every Tuesday evening here. You don’t mind?”
Megan shook her head. “No. It’s lovely.”
They listened in silence to the song, replaced by a livelier tune when two more musicians arrived, playing banjo and fiddle. More guests piled in, until the pub was so crowded, there was no place to sit down.
Forgetting all her problems, the music transported Megan to happier times. The rhythm and harmony of the instruments and sweet lilt of the voices lifted her mood and stirred her senses. She moved to sit beside Dan. He put his arm around her with an apologetic little smile. She shrugged and smiled back, enjoying the close comfort.
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