‘It certainly seems that way to me. I’ll be right back,’ I tell them as I find the plates and the salt and vinegar. Peeling back the tinfoil, I inhale the incredible aroma of fresh cod in a golden crispy batter and thickly cut chips with the skin still on. I plateup their lunches, planning to get myself this dish before I leave.
‘Only salt on my fish, please. Mind your nice clothes,’ Esther warns me as some salt I’ve sprinkled ends up on my trousers.
‘Gráinne normally butters me a few slices of white bread?’ Michael points the end of his pipe towards the sideboard.
‘She does not, Michael, ya big liar, ya! He’s a dicky ticker, needs to watch his cholesterol. I don’t want to end up a young widow.’ The two of them crack up laughing, then when I place the plates in front of them, they tuck into their lunch. I just sit quietly, feeling very lucky I’m getting to meet these two people and trying desperately to forget about Dan Delaney.
‘Ask away as we chomp.’ Michael pops a chip into his mouth, chews slowly.
‘So you’ve been married for sixty years. You got married at Castlemoon, do you both believe that the castle holds some kind of magic, that a marriage celebrated there lasts a lifetime? That your marriage lasted because of it?’ I look from one to the other.
‘’Tis an unbreakable bond,’ Michael tells me.
‘The unbreakable bond under the castle roof is as real as this table.’ Esther knocks on the hard wood.
‘This woman came to me when I needed her most. I wasn’t looking for love, I was looking for someone to understand me, to help me, to be my partner and my ally. She was filled with kindness and goodness and I fell in love with her instantly.’ Michael hands her a tissue from his pocket.
‘You are clearly still very much in love,’ I say, feeling a knot in my throat.
‘Never loved one before nor another after,’ Esther says and I notice she’s barely touched her lunch.
‘Esther, please eat, I can come back later?’ I say to her.
‘I try, don’t I, love? But the appetite isn’t good. All the medication I’m on for the cancer makes me feel terrible queasy.’
My heart plummets as my eyes immediately dart to Michaelwho looks away but not before he puts his hand over hers.
‘What I’d really love, what Gráinne does for me, is to make me a little hot Jemmy?’ Esther links her arthritic fingers together and I notice she too wears a green stone Claddagh ring, but her heart points towards her own heart.
‘A what?’ I ask confused.
‘A Jemmy, a little hot whiskey with cloves. I prefer the Irish drop,’ Esther tells me.
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Where’s the whiskey?’ I stand up, push my chair back and this time the old Labrador barks.
‘Whisht, boy!’ Michael says. ‘Kitchen through there and the Jameson whiskey’s in the glass cabinet next to that New York one he bought in,’ Michael tells me.
‘Shall I make that two Jemmy’s?’ I look back over my shoulder at him as I pat the dog softly. He puts his head back down on his paws, content again on his old threadbare rug.
‘We’d be obliged if you’d made it three and join us?’ Esther says, nibbling on some batter, with a slightly shaking hand.
‘I’d be delighted, I’m not driving.’
As I make my way into the kitchen, I have to compose myself for a second or two. Esther is ill. It’s too sad to think about. I only met this couple less than half an hour ago, but there’s something about them that makes me want to protect them. Locating the bottle of whiskey, I fill the old kettle and set about preparing the drinks. As I wait for the kettle to boil, my attention is drawn to the fridge. On the door are old photographs. I look at a large one of a young-looking Esther and Michael, huge happy smiles on their faces, outside Castlemoon with two very small boys, holding each of their hands. What a place to raise a family, I think. Heartwell is really getting under my skin. The kettle clicks off and I make the three drinks and take them back inside.
‘I thought you’d like to see our wedding album,’ Esther says, a large old photo album in plastic open on the table now.
‘I’d love to, and if it’s okay, can I take some photos? Just one of you both here today and maybe I can take a snap of one of your wedding at the castle? I’m going to need you both to sign these releases forms that say you consent to the article and your images being published.’
‘No bother,’ Michael says as I pull out the two forms from my satchel.
‘Do you think people will book a wedding at the castle when they read your magazine?’ he asks, biting on the end of the pen as he awaits my answer, his eyes wide, his fingers long.
‘I really do. It’s a very special place,’ I say truthfully as he nods and makes the sign of the cross.
‘Please God.’
‘So how did you actually meet?’ I don’t want to take up too much of their time so I get ready to type as Esther signs her form slowly. Her hand is wobbling but she’s steady and determined, displaying a dogged strength.
