‘There you go, Sergeant, good boy.’ Emily patted the horse on its rump and led it back into one of the stables. She came out and looked at her watch. ‘Come inside and have a cup of tea. I was just going to brew up anyway.’
Joanna sat in the huge, untidy kitchen as Emily put a kettle on the range to boil. Every available wall was covered with hundreds of rosettes won in competitions both in Ireland and abroad.
‘Must admit I’ve been a little tardy in tracing the family history. So damned busy with the nags outside and putting this place back on its feet.’ Emily poured Joanna a cup of tea from a large stainless-steel pot. ‘Granny lived here until her death, using just two rooms downstairs. The place was going to rack and ruin when I came here ten years ago. Sadly, some things are lost forever. The dampness in the air rots everything it gets into.’
‘It’s a beautiful old house, though.’
‘Oh yes. In its heyday it was extremely well regarded. The balls, parties and hunts were legendary. My great-grandfather entertained the great and the good from all over Europe, including English royalty. Apparently we even had the Prince of Wales here for a tryst with his mistress. It was a perfect hideaway, you see. The cotton boats used to sail regularly from England to Clonakilty and you could pop on a boat from there and sail round the coast without anyone knowing of your arrival.’
‘Are you restoring it?’
‘I’m certainly trying to. Need the horses to come back with a few wins at Cheltenham next week and that’ll help us on our way. The house is too big for just me. When more of it’s habitable I intend to make it pay its own way and open it to tourists as an upmarket B&B. Could be way past the millennium before that happens, mind you. So –’ Emily’s bright eyes studied Joanna – ‘what do you do?’
‘I’m a journalist, actually, but I’m not here on official business. I’m looking for a relative. Before he died, he mentioned Rosscarbery, and a house that stuck out into the bay.’
‘Was he Irish?’
‘Yes. I found a record of his baptism in the church at Clonakilty.’
‘What was his name?’
‘Michael O’Connell.’
‘Right. Where are you staying?’
‘The Ross Hotel.’
‘Well, I’ll have a hunt through the old deeds and documents in the library later today and see if I can dig anything up for you on the place. Now, I’m afraid I need to get back to the stables.’
‘Thank you, Emily.’ Joanna drained her teacup, stood up, and they walked out of the kitchen together.
‘Do you ride?’
‘Oh yes. I was brought up in Yorkshire, and I had four legs under me for most of my childhood.’
‘If you want a mount while you’re staying here, you’re welcome to one. Bye now.’ Emily waved her off.
Later that evening, Joanna was sitting in her usual place in the bar by the fire when the landlord called to her.
‘Telephone for you, Joanna. It’s Emily from up at Drumnogue.’
‘Thanks.’ She stood up and walked round the bar to take the receiver.
‘Hello?’
‘Emily here, Joanna. I dug up some interesting stuff while I was in the process of looking for your information. Seems our neighbour has managed to siphon off at least ten acres and fence them with trees while dear old Granny wasn’t looking.’
‘I’m sorry. Can you get them back?’
‘No. Round here, after seven years of fencing off land, if no one has claimed it back, it’s yours. Explains why our next-door neighbour runs away in fright every time I approach him. Never mind, got a few hundred acres left, but I should think about fencing them off in the near future.’
‘Oh dear. Did you manage to find any documents relating to the coastguard’s house?’
‘I’m afraid not. I found a couple of title deeds to hovels that probably are no more than ruins now, but none relating to the coastguard’s house. You should look up the title deeds at the Land Registry Office in Dublin.’
‘How long does that take?’
‘Oh, a week, two weeks maybe.’
