‘That’s my daughter Grace,’ Marianne says to me as she turns away. ‘She’ll be home from one of her gigs. She sings and plays the guitar all around town – if you hear singing in the shower, it’s not a banshee, just her. She’s the adventurous sort – loves everything creative, wants to travel the world and throw away her future – bright as a button in school and has been accepted into university to study primary-school teaching. A safe, secure job that comes with summers off and a nice retirement plan – but no one can get through to her about it. Anyway, I better get her some dinner – she’ll be starved.’
‘Oh my, I hadn’t noticed the hour… it’s so late!’ I say, glancing at the clock on the wall. ‘I should let you get back to it.’
‘Yes,’ Marianne says. ‘Grace wouldn’t want to hear me going on about old times.’ She looks me in the eyes sadly. ‘She’s heard my tales a thousand times. Well, most of them…’
CHAPTER 19
THE BREAKFAST
‘Good morning, miss!’ Gus McDonagh, the fill-in chef for this morning, glances at his watch. ‘Eight hours straight – you can put that on TripAdvisor!’ he exclaims. ‘Where’s your friend?’
‘She’s still sleeping,’ I reply. ‘I’ve tried to wake her up, but she’s so deeply wrapped up in the duvet that it’s impossible.’
‘Ah, just like Grace.’ Gus chuckles. ‘She’s still flat out in bed and snoring like a sailor – I don’t want to wake her. If my wife asks about it, just tell her that Grace helped with the breakfast and we’ll keep it a secret, okay? Marianne says I’m too soft, but I don’t think that’s always a bad thing.’ He gives me a smile and throws some bacon out of the kitchen window for Oscar.
I take a moment to stand at the back doorway, breathing in the sweet freshness of the morning air as I get my first glimpse of Innisfree in daylight. The sky is awash with colours ranging from pink to orange, and the sun’s rays beam down, making the dew-covered grass glisten. In the distance, I can see rugged cliffs jutting out against the blue-green waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Closer by, clucking chickens dig through thick grass in search of insects, while cows chew contentedly on hay. Everything about this beautiful Irish countryside seems like it’s been taken straight off a postcard. A stark contrast to the view from myLondon flat, where the air is heavy with fumes from the nearby factory and piles of overlooked detritus form mini-mountains in delipidated doorways. I am dwarfed by the rolling hills and lush green fields, but I simultaneously feel liberated. It’s as if I’m part of something and infinite – something far beyond myself.
‘I can’t wait to get out and go exploring,’ I remark.
‘Fancy a full Irish before you set off?’ Gus calls out to me.
My stomach growls in answer, and we gather at the kitchen table for a hearty meal. I tuck into the full Irish breakfast Gus had prepared – delicious eggs, bacon, sausages, black pudding, tomatoes, mushrooms and plenty of toast to soak it all up. ‘It’ll put hair on my chest!’ I joke between bites.
Gus smiles in amusement and watches as I take my time enjoying the meal.
Eventually, the plate is almost clean and I lean back with a satisfied sigh. ‘That was delicious! Just what I needed. I’m going to have to hit the gym hard to work it all off.’
‘Not much in the way of gyms around here, but plenty of hills and trails if you want to get your heart pumping. So, what’s on your plan for today then?’ Gus inquires.
‘Well, as soon as I manage to get Kayla up, we’re making a quick stop at Jacinta Mooney’s to pick up some clothes, since our bags never showed up.’
Gus makes a funny face.
‘After that, we’ll do some sightseeing around here.’
‘Sounds like a great plan!’ he says.
I startle when I see a small man standing at the back door, his tufted brown beard and worn overalls giving him the look of one of the garden gnomes outside. He kicks off his work boots to reveal socks with holes in them, exposing his heels and toes.
‘Good morning, everyone.’ He offers a nod to Gus and then me. ‘Do you have any breakfast left, Gus?’ He sets down the newspaper he’s carrying on the table.
‘Plenty, Stephen. Have a seat and I’ll get you something right away. This is Daisy, our guest from London.’
Stephen offers me his hand to shake. ‘Nice to meet you.’ He smiles. ‘I’m Stephen McDonagh, and this here is my little brother.’ He nods in Gus’s direction. ‘When did you arrive?’
‘Yesterday, just as the storm started. We got soaked.’
Gus sets down a cup of tea beside Stephen, who immediately takes a long sip of it. All the while, he hasn’t looked away from me. A mountain of sausages appears on the table in front of him, covered in red sauce.
‘Did you come in on the bus from Dublin airport?’ Stephen snatches a sausage and takes a hefty bite, his eyes still fixed on me.
I nod, still chewing on some toast.
‘You see, I’ve just been to Fintan Mooney’s shop for my newspaper, and I hear that you’re here to take possession of the Kennedy estate? Is that right?’ His dark eyes bore into mine, the lines of his forehead drawn together in a deep frown.
After swallowing and taking a sip of tea, I answer him. ‘News certainly spreads quickly!’
‘It really does. So, you’re Rose Clarke’s daughter?’ he asks, the question hanging in the air between us.
