‘All right then, thanks,’ I tell him with a grateful smile. Not because I feel unsafe in Innisfree, but because I’m not ready to say goodbye just yet.
So, together, we meander down the main street, making our way through the closing-time crowds spilling out of the pubs into the street. Everyone is laughing, singing, embracing each other. Today has felt like a festival in every sense, celebrating everything that makes up their culture: music, entertainment and, most of all, the people. And I feel like I’m part of it all; as if I belong. It’s a feeling I’d almost forgotten, a hope I’d nearly stopped wishing for.
As we walk through the throngs, I feel the warmth of James’ arm wrapped snugly around my waist. This gratifying haven, the gentle scent of fresh country air holds me captive. After a night of great fun, all I want is to ball up this joy and save it, like a firefly in a jar.
We keep walking through the revelling crowds, our steps light and quick as we make our way through the village streets. For a moment, the melody of the night falls silent, and suddenly there he is: Stephen McDonagh, swaying drunkenly at the edge of the square. He lurches towards us, his red and bloated face twisted with malice.
‘Hey, James, who’s your new girlfriend? She’s a lot better than the last one!’ he calls.
James’ cheeks flush. ‘Good one,’ he calls back. ‘Now go home, Stephen McDonagh, and sleep it off.’ James leans in to my ear. ‘He loses the run of himself when he hits the bottle.’
Stephen nods to me. ‘Hey, Daisy? Do you’ve any friends who look like you?’ And then he turns back to his friends in the street, laughing and eating chips, before he stumbles over and wraps his arm around my neck.
‘Stephen, that’s enough – leave us in peace. We don’t want any trouble from anyone.’ says James, suddenly looking serious.
‘Now, now, James, there’s no need to be jealous. Daisy is a girl after my own heart,’ Stephen says as he stumbles away from me and James pulls me closer, protectively. ‘I’m just being friendly.’ His hand reaches out to grab my arm.
‘Then go be friendly somewhere else,’ says James, pushing him away. ‘Cop yourself on, Stephen – you’re acting like an idiot.’
‘It’s late; we’re all ready to go home now. Goodnight, Stephen,’ I say without turning around.
‘Suit yourself, James. If you want to take a thief home, that’s your lookout! Like mother, like daughter! Hide all your valuables around that one,’ Stephen shouts. ‘Daisy Clarke, eh? Back to lord over us all from The Lake House!’ He spits the words, enunciating every syllable in his attempt to maintain composure. ‘D’ya hear about Rose Clarke? They say she’s a filthy thief!’
I raise an eyebrow, disbelief pooling in the depths of my eyes. Why is he calling my mother a thief?
James’ grip tightens around me. ‘He’s just a drunk idiot. Come on – let’s go.’
I try to rein in the hot rush of emotion, but the words spill from my lips, ‘You’ve no right to talk about my mother.’
But this only spurs him on, his sneer growing wider, feeding on our despair. ‘Oh, I hit a nerve, did I?’
James’ jaw clenches, and he narrows his eyes at Stephen as his voice deepens. ‘You’ve had your fun. Now step off, yeah?’
James takes my hand and we walk away from the jeering crowds and into the night. I wonder what Stephen meant by his comment – but James is right, he’s a drunk idiot and there’s no sense wasting our precious time on him. But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it than that. When I was first at the guest house, Stephen went silent when I asked about my mother, yet now, he has plenty to say.
‘Keep your crown jewels in the safe when you bring Rose Clarke’s daughter home!’ Stephen calls out after us again.
I turn to James. ‘What did he mean by that? What crown jewels?’
But before James can answer, Stephen is standing on a bench, using it as a stage. ‘You know, a thief broke into my house last night. He started searching for money so I woke up and searched with him.’
His friends break down laughing, jeering him to continue.
‘Did you hear the one about the thief in the cemetery… t’was a grave mistake.’
Again, more laughter.
Stephen’s getting louder and more animated with the attention.
‘Did I tell you I was mugged last night on my way home… Pointing a knife at me… he said, “Your money or your life!” I told him I was from Innisfree… so I have no money and no life… We hugged and cried together. It was a beautiful moment.’
I look up at James, but he just shakes his head, before turning on his heel and walking back towards Stephen.
‘James!’ I shout after him, but he doesn’t stop. He just keeps walking until he comes face to face with Stephen and then lands a punch on him that spins him around until he’s lying on the ground with blood streaming from his nose.
Stephen’s friends move in to hold James back, but he shrugs them off.
The air crackles with the electrifying tension of a storm about to break. My heart races, pounding against the walls of my chest as James steps forward, giving Stephen a menacing scowl. ‘I’m warning you, Stephen. You’ve crossed a line.’
