‘Let them enjoy it. There’ll be enough of us. Jason, go and round everyone up. They’re going to need to change as it’s raining cats and dogs out there.’
‘We’d say, raining stair rods,’ said Conor with a sudden devilish grin. ‘It’s wet. And I like a woman who takes charge.’
Hannah glared at him, ignoring this, and peered out of the window. ‘Stair rods? That’s an understatement.’
‘I’d say pissing it down but I’d probably have to put a euro in the jar,’ said Jason.
‘Let’s meet at the cottage as soon as we can.’ Hannah was already planning. ‘We’re going to need some tools.’
‘I’ve got some in the truck,’ said Conor. ‘There are more in the workshop. I’ll round some up and meet you at the cottage.’
Going their separate ways, they parted outside the door of the office, leaving Hannah to pick her way down the track to the cottage, bitterly regretting the vanity that had forced her to wear the shoes. She’d wanted to show Conor that she was indifferent to him leaving the shoe for her.
Jason must have impressed the urgency upon everyone because five minutes after Hannah had changed and pulled on a pair of wellies, he and Fliss appeared, dripping, at the front door.
‘This is a bit of an adventure,’ said Fliss cheerfully. ‘Saving the day.’
‘It’s a bit grim out there,’ Hannah said apologetically. ‘Sorry to drag you away when it was so cosy in the greenhouse.’
‘No matter,’ Fliss shrugged. ‘Let’s face it, we’d all do anything for Adrienne, wouldn’t we? Oh, quick, come in.’ Fliss beckoned Alan, Meredith, and Izzy into the cottage from the porch, as well as Seamus and Peter who, it transpired, had insisted on getting on the act.
‘Moss Murphy and his crowd are a bad seed – gombeen men the pack of them,’ said Seamus, shaking the rain from his cloth cap, as he stepped into the cottage in dark overalls and heavy-duty boots.
‘Bad cess to them,’ said Peter.
The grumbling between the two of them stopped when the lights of Conor’s truck appeared outside.
They made a motley crew, trooping down, rustling along the path in rain-slicked waterproofs and wellies, armed with an assortment of tools, but there was an air of underlying excitement as if this was a great adventure. The rain had found its way inside Hannah’s coat and an insistent trickle made its way down her neck, pooling into her bra but, fired up by the determination to right a wrong, she tugged at the hood and marched on beside a silent Conor. She was grateful for his silence because she felt uncomfortable in his presence. She’d practically told him – shehadtold him – that she was in love with him but she wasn’t about to apologise for it. If they both ignored it, she could hold her head up high and pretend it meant nothing.
‘Hannah?’ he said, just loud enough to be heard over the wind and the rain.
‘Mm,’ she said noncommittally.
‘I owe you an apology. Mam told me that you’ve got a job here. That you’re going to be a lawyer.’
‘I already am a lawyer,’ she snapped. She wasn’t going to let him off the hook.
‘I jumped to conclusions and I’m sorry.’
‘So you should be.’
Conor lapsed into silence. ‘You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?’
‘Make what easy?’
‘Do I need to grovel?’
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. You’ve apologised.’
‘So that’s how you’re going to play it?’ Annoyingly he grinned at her and then reached for one of her rain-soaked curls and pushed it off her forehead.
She scowled at him and stepped back, annoyed by his confidence.
‘And here you are rescuing me again? I might need to keep you around.’
‘You? Might need to keepmearound?’ She spoke with scorn. ‘I promise you, my decision to stay has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.’
Conor’s grin widened. ‘Even better.’
