‘We’re more old school here. When I’m asked about relaxation I usually refer guests to the armchairs beside the turf fire, feet up and recommend a good book. I’ve yet to have a complaint.’ Mary raises a knowing eyebrow and I laugh, adjust my satchel. Right now, that idea sounds divine.
‘And that appetising smell will be our flame-grilled steaks. We have the best steaks. Organic, from Jimmy Murphy’s farm just up behind us here. They supply most of the village’s food in the market, too.’ Mary goes on, ‘Their vegetables taste like no other. No pesticides, none of that, and don’t get me started on their free-range eggs.’ Mary smacks her lips, playfully. ‘Our breakfast omelettes are famous.’
‘Oh, right, I passed the market driving through the village! Sounds delicious. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get my bags.’ I pocket the key in my wool coat and smack off Red’s dusty paw prints.
That was crazy, I think, opening my eyes wide. ‘Oh my God, what was it about that guy?’ I whisper. ‘I mean I was amazing. I stood up for myself. I was confident, witty, but he got my back right up. But he was mesmerising at the same time. Wait until I tell Jill this. She will be so proud of me!’ I continue to march through the snowy car park towards my car, head bent. I reach it and for the first time survey the damage. Mine isn’t too bad considering – a small dent and scrapes. But the Rolls-Royce’s bumper is hanging off and the front door has a deep dent. I put my finger under, push the button and open my trunk. Pulling out my suitcase I slide open the zipper and tuck my MacBook inside. Resting my hands on the open trunk, an image of Dan’s dark eyes float through my mind. I wasn’t mistaking it, there was a sense of vulnerability and sadness about him .?.?. oh, wise up, I think, he was totally playing with you. He’s no manners and doesn’t deserve a second thought. You are here to do a job – avery big job! Concentrate, I chastise myself and slam the boot way harder than necessary. Immediately, I hear a dog bark. I yank my head up in the direction of the noise. A heavy curtain swings back over a top window.
‘Oh great, was that good ole Danny Boy, spying on me again?’ Childishly, I stick out my tongue up to the window and march my way back to the door of the castle. But I can’t help it, still I replay that whole scene in my head. Hit and run? Your Highness! I think of what he was saying while my stomach continues to flip-flap all over the place. I must need to eat. ‘That’s it!’ I mutter, ‘I’m hungry.’ A tasty Irish chargrilled steak and a nice glass of red wine to wash it down will fix me. Then sleep. I’m exhausted.
Cautiously, I take an expeditious look up to the window again, but Mr Dan Delaney is nowhere to be seen.
NINE
‘I could have called Terry up to help with your bags, lovey. He’s just fixed the lights in room six and he’s down in the cellar trying to unstick the door now. It’s the bane of our lives.’ Mary stands up very slowly, coming out from behind the large reception area as I sweep back inside from the cutting Irish December elements. ‘We’re tortured by that cellar door sticking and we’ve a big castle fundraiser céilí on this Friday night.’
Castle fundraiser?Why would they be fundraising if the castle is to be sold to Frederick Macken in just a few days’ time? I was really hoping for a couple of weddings to pop into while I was here but it sounds like that’s the Friday night out now.
‘Don’t worry, I can manage, thank you though. And I’m really sorry, Mary, about Dan’s car. Does he have another vehicle to use while it’s being repaired? And now I’m worried how the couple inside will get home tonight – can they get other transport? Because that weather is getting worse out there?’ I have to shake snow from my curls and bat the wet flakes from my eyelashes.
‘Don’t be fretting, lovey. Dan collected Aisling and Aaron, the happy couple, inside from Heartwell church just fine. They came all the way from across the village.’ Mary chuckles, ‘They’re staying here with us tonight. We have a lovely bridal suite I’ll letyou in to see tomorrow.’
‘Oh great, thank you. Does Dan live nearby? I can pay for a taxi for him? Keep the receipt as an expense?’ Removing my wool coat, folding it over my arm. I’m trying to find out more about him, I know I am and I hate myself for it.
‘Dan’s grand, don’t be worrying about him. Listen, I promise you he’s not a jerk. I hope you didn’t take any offence to him?’ A little bit of concern enters Mary’s voice.
‘No, it’s all good, Mary.’ I immediately want to put her at ease. She has such an affability about her, it’s in the glit of her eye and the warmness of her smile.
‘That is good. Now, lovey, I’m here to answer any questions you might have for your New York magazine. I need to drum up new business for next year.’ But now Mary looks preoccupied as her nose seems to be trying to sniff something.
‘Might I be able to have a few words with the manager, do you think?’ I ask carefully. ‘In my notes my boss has said that the owner is not available but I should seek out the manager?’
‘You can have as many words as you like, you’re standing right in front of her.’ Mary grins and folds her arms under her ample chest as some guests pass us by. ‘But I’m running to get some vol-au-vents out of the Aga. I can smell them, they’re ready.’
‘Oh! I’m so sorry. Right, Mary, you’re also the manager. That’s great, thank you.’ My face heats up with embarrassment, mortified at my faux pas.
‘Plenty of time for chats later. Now, I’m sure you want to get to your room and freshen up? Straight down the hall, up the grand staircase to the first floor, take a left and you’ll see number nine at the top of the corridor.’ Mary picks up my empty glass. ‘Just mind your footing on the last step, it dips in the middle a bit, Terry has to get around to fixing it.’
‘No lift?’ I look at my case, then hear myself. ‘Of course there’sno lift. I’m in a castle for crying out loud! I’ve worked in a New York skyscraper for too many years. Thank you, Mary. I’ll have a million questions, no doubt,’ I say, pulling up the handle on my small red wheelie suitcase.
‘I hope you enjoy your stay and please write a glowing article for us?’ Mary extends her hand and I take it. But she doesn’t release it, instead she pulls my hand to her eyeline and rubs her thumb across my Claddagh ring.
‘I see your heart is taken, so maybe you’d think about marrying here one day?’ she says softly.
‘Oh no, sorry. I washed my hands on the plane and put the ring back on the wrong way round, I keep forgetting the traditions. I just got it,’ I explain.
‘Pity. We’re desperate for more weddings here, you see.’ Mary lowers her voice, scrunches up her face, leans further across the reception desk, but a worried look comes over her apple-like cheeks.
‘Really?’ My ears perk up. I’m going to need some information about Castlemoon for Frederick. ‘I would have thought Castlemoon is booked out all year round for weddings with the folklore of everlasting marriages and all that?’
‘That’s truth, not tale. But no, this is our only wedding this month.’ Mary stands up slowly and lifts the hatch, walks out from behind the desk, again very slowly.
‘You’re kidding?’ I cannot believe it. One wedding!
‘Wish I was. It’s getting more and more expensive to run the weddings. The costs to heat the Heart Ballroom are astronomical, never mind the whole castle! The roof is rotten. We paid some cowboys to fix it and they ran off with the money! Now all the heat just escapes. We’ve buckets all over the pace when it rains .?.?. the chimney breast is cracking too in the Sweet Orange Room. The windows need replacing in half the bedrooms and so much air gets in that we can’t sell them toguests on these cold dark winter nights.’ Mary leans closer to me, her voice a whisper as she holds her index finger near her lips. ‘That large crack in the fireplace in the Sweet Orange Room is spreading. The place is leaking money, literally, that’s why I thought it’d be good to let you come and do the magazine piece. I was the only one who wanted you here, truth be told. We’ve always said no in the past. We’re not big into that kinda thing. We’re more lowkey. We’ve had a few TV production companies wanting to film in here and we refused.’ Mary’s eyes dart up as the woman with the cane from a moment ago passes the desk again.
‘You need any help, Mrs Geraghty?’
‘I’m okay thanks, Mary. Dan has saved me the trouble of going into the village to get my few presents and the boys are coming to see me later. He’s so kind.’ The woman looks frail as she slowly sits into a chair by the fire.
