‘Oh God, do I have to? Explaining all my angst makes me look like a right eejit.’ He laughed. ‘I can’t take myself and my woes so seriously if I have to do that.’
‘That sounds like a good thing,’ said Hannah, suddenly pleased that they could have this back and forth without any awkwardness. She could be friends with him, she realised with a jolt of pleasure. Perhaps that would be enough? It had to be, he came from a different world to her.
‘Polly was an actress. When she wonCelebrity Masterchefin the UK, she and her agent decided that they’d reinvent her as a cookery expert. Didn’t take her long to decide that she could become the next Adrienne Byrne – history repeating itself by marrying into the family. We got engaged but then I realised I was a means to an end… That sounds arrogant, doesn’t it? She met someone else but didn’t want to give up the gig with Mam, so it was all very civilised. She stayed here and became Mam’s latest protégée.’ He gave a twisted smile. ‘Polly moved into the farmhouse.’
Hannah’s mouth dropped open. ‘That’s…’ She wanted to saybrutal.
‘Yeah, but Polly was a new disciple, a convert. There’s nothing my mam likes so much as people spreading the word, reinforcing the Killorgally success story. It’s all good PR and I let the side down by giving it all up.’
‘But surely your mum understood how you felt…’ Hannah, shocked at his harsh tone, couldn’t believe Adrienne would be so impartial where her own son was concerned. Her aunt might not be Hannah’s biological mother but in every other way shewasher mother, and would have been the fiercest in protection of her chicks.
Conor lifted his chin and gazed over her head out of the window but she could see the hurt in his taut jawline.
‘Anyway, all water under the bridge now and I’ve no idea why I’m spilling my guts like this to you.’
‘Because you can?’ suggested Hannah.
‘Something like that. You’ve no preconceived notions of me and I don’t feel I have to explain too much, you’re sharp. Like a good knife. You cut away through the crap to the nub of things.’
For some reason being compared to one of his stock-in-trade tools felt like a high compliment.
‘Now, can you boil that kettle for me and make some stock?’ He slid a stock cube along the counter towards her.
She picked up the foil-wrapped cube. ‘Stock cube? I thought we were supposed to caramelise bones in the oven and boil them and all that malarky.’
‘And sometimes a common stock cube will do.’ He winked.
‘Thank God for that,’ said Hannah, with a heartfelt tone that made him smile.
Chapter Sixteen
The rest of the week passed rather amicably between her and Conor which was just as well because there was just no way of getting away from him; he worked in the kitchen every day and was at home in the cottage every evening.
He had a fund of funny, self-deprecating stories about his days in New York and LA, about celebrities and famous people behaving badly, and he shared them with wicked humour. Despite the growing awareness that he was a lot more down to earth than she’d first thought, she still knew that she had to keep her distance. It was getting harder and harder, especially when he was so easy to be with. However, the same thought kept coming back to her, if something more did happen between them where could it possibly lead? A broken heart? She couldn’t take that risk.
One night after dinner at the farmhouse with the others, she came home to find him in the kitchen frowning over a set of plans. The sight of the unfurled rolls of paper piqued her interest and she tried to squint at them without appearing to.
‘You look fed up or cross or something,’ she observed.
‘Just trying to solve a knotty problem. I’ve got to put a dirty great RSJ in, to extend the kitchen, but I’m trying to work out if I need to get a crane in.’
‘Oh,’ said Hannah, none the wiser.
He lifted his head from the plans. ‘See here.’ She walked round to stand beside him.
‘Looks impressive.’
‘It will be when it’s finished. See, this is the kitchen.’
He talked through the plans with a passion that surprised her. ‘There’ll be a breakfast bar here but it will be two levels. The lower level will have a sink in it, so that whoever is in the kitchen and is working doesn’t have their back to their guests.’
Hannah nodded. ‘Good call. You’re right. When you’re washing up, you sort of become invisible.’
‘Exactly, and if you’re the host you should be the star of the show.’
‘Not sure about that one,’ said Hannah. Maybe that was why she’d never been one for cooking. She preferred to stay in the background, unlike her more extrovert sister.
‘And this will be a big bifold window that will fold right back so that the patio in front becomes an extension of the house. But then,’ he grinned at her, ‘there’ll be a wood burner here because the weather isn’t always that kind.’
