Within moments, she’s back, with Fintan by her side.
‘Right, have a look here, Daisy, and tell us what you think.’ Fintan hands me a dusty wooden box.
I cautiously open it, my breath catching at the sight of all the art supplies inside. Charcoals, pencils, pastels and paints – the contents of this box are easily worth more and are of much better quality than anything I own.
‘Where did you get all this?’ I exclaim in disbelief.
‘He’s always fancied himself as an artist. A great talent in his day, our Fintan,’ says Jacinta with a fond smile. ‘I got him that set for his birthday one year but you’ll see it’s pretty much untouched.’ She turns to her brother. ‘You were going to create your magnum opus with it, right, Fintan?’
He gives a sad smile as he shrugs. ‘Indeed, and if I had my time back again, I would have started straight away, without a moment to lose.’ He raises his stiff, swollen fingers.
‘But I put that particular dream on the backburner, too busy with work and what have you – always something – and then my poor ole hands seized up so I wasn’t able. But anyway… at least now it can be put to good use.’ Fintan smiles sheepishly as he nods towards the box. ‘It’s not much, but it might help you get started on what you need to do,’ he offers kindly. ‘It gives me great relief to see it being put to its purpose. God bless the work, as they say.’
My eyes fill with tears of appreciation as I hug each of them tightly, thanking them for their kindness. Fintan excitedly sorts through the supplies he’s brought while handing each item to me individually. His enthusiasm is contagious as I begin to formulate ideas forForest Fables. He shows me how to sharpen pencils with a knife and whispers advice on drawing trees so they look like they’re living creatures rather than static objects. Before I know it, we’re deep in conversation about our favourite artists and painting techniques, his knowledge far surpassing my own. We spend the rest of the afternoon talking and creating. Not only do I now possess all the necessary tools to complete this project but have also gained a friend and mentor in Fintan.‘Thank you so all much,’ I murmur softly, constantly pinching myself to make sure this isn’t a dream.
‘You look absolutely gorgeous. Dressed up to the nines,’ Jacinta exclaims as she tidies up Kayla’s collar and gives us both a hug. ‘Have a wonderful night and dance the night away!’
‘Dancing? Where at?’ I ask.
‘Why, The Tap House of course. It always has dancing going on just across the road. They have live music every night of the week. You’d better get there early if you want to get a seat.’
Jacinta hands over our bulging shopping bags of clothes that’ll get us through the rest of the trip until our luggage appears –ifour luggage ever appears. ‘I always say, we have two hands – one to help ourselves and one to help others,’ she says.
Kayla’s face lights up. ‘I love that, Jacinta! In that spirit, let me do something for you. Why don’t I take a few pictures of the merchandise you have here? I’ll style it up into a quick gallery and add it to a vintage marketplace app. It won’t take long – we can do it now if you like? If I’m right, people will be dying to get their hands on these items in no time at all.’
Jacinta claps her hands in delight. ‘Really? Oh, that would be wonderful.’
I pick up Kayla’s bag for her. ‘I’ll drop this stuff off at Marianne’s and meet you at The Tap House in an hour.’
Before I leave, she winks at me. I feel so at home here in the village, and with all the villagers; it only makes me wonder all the more why my mother would have ever left.
CHAPTER 21
THE CALL
Tiptoeing across the old wooden floors towards the carpeted stairs of the guest house, I try my best to stay quiet. The early-evening sun casts a warm, golden hue through the leaded glass windows, casting long shadows on the narrow hallway. I pass the once vibrant wallpaper, now gently faded by time, as I reach the turn of the staircase. It may have been grand in another era, but now it’s charmingly worn, the scent of lavender potpourris overpowering, creating a suffocating sweetness.
To my left, in the cosy front room, I hear Marianne and another female voice raised, piercing the fragile silence. An underlying tension hangs like fog in the air as I strain not to eavesdrop, but their words filter through anyway. I just want to drop off my bags in my room without disturbing their row.
‘Grace, you never pay attention – I’m telling you this for your own good!’
‘My own good? No, you’re telling me this foryourown good, Mum! I’m not going to do what everyone else wants from me. It’s no surprise Ciaran had to go all the way to America so that he can live his life – there’s no chance of that here. If it’s not you telling me to go to university, it’s Uncle Stephen telling me that I shouldn’t be out in the woods at night.’
My heart thumps in my chest as slowly, carefully, I climb the stairs, praying that each step won’t reveal me.
‘And he’s completely right, Grace – you shouldn’t be out in the forest after dark. It’s dangerous; those drifters are dangerous! Who knows what they’re capable of?’
I hear something crash to the floor.
Grace’s pitch gets higher. ‘They are not dangerous. They are the most imaginative, gentle, loving people you could ever meet. Uncle Stephen is the one who’s dangerous; he’s the psychopath – everyone knows it!’
‘Don’t say that about your uncle,’ I hear Marianne warn from the shadows. ‘Family is family after all…’
Just as I’m about to reach the top of the staircase, my phone rings out, shattering the silence that I’d so carefully preserved. Panic surges through me, reverberating from head to toe. I quickly press mute.
As if on cue, the front-room door flings open, revealing Marianne and Grace’s tear-stained faces.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I mumble ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just, um, be in my room.’
