‘Life’s short. Why not enjoy yourself?’
There was a challenge in his words which lit a spark of rebellion in Hannah’s chest. She’d always been the good girl, always done the right thing, but there was no doubt she was enjoying the flirty banter between them and as for that kiss…
Why not enjoy herself?
Chapter Three
It was one thing to enjoy yourself, which she undoubtedly had done, but it was a completely different kettle of frogs to wake up in a stranger’s bed with absolutely no idea what etiquette dictated she do in these circumstances.
For a moment she lay quite still, the internal groan reverberating around her head. What had she done? Hannah Campbell did not go in for one-night stands, although her mortification was tinged with the tiniest touch of pride. Conor whatever his name was – God, she didn’t even know his surname – well, whatever it was, he knew what he was doing. She still tingled all over at the memory of those kisses and the way his hands had touched her body. She wasn’t a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, but after that…! Well, she’d clearly never had proper sex before. Sleeping with Conor had been a revelation.
She had no idea what time it was, but it was still dark outside. She picked out the shapes of the furniture in the room, trying to get her bearings. It was a different layout to the slightly smaller room she’d occupied – or rather, not occupied – on the next floor up. With a wince she tried to remember where her clothes might be. Scattered somewhere across the floor. Oh God, had they really snogged in the street? In the lift? Burst through his bedroom door in a desperate rush to strip off each other’s clothes? She closed her eyes to shut out the starburst of images and the accompanying sensation of warmth in every last one of her lady parts.Hannah Campbell, you tart. She couldn’t help smiling though – it had been bloody lovely.
Next to her, Conor shifted in his sleep and she froze again. How was she going to extricate herself from this? If she left now while he was still asleep, she wouldn’t have to face him. She could get in the little hire car she’d picked up from the airport yesterday morning and drive away. He probably wouldn’t mind. In fact, he’d probably be quite relieved. Let’s face it, he was powered with the sort of Duracell-strength charm that would attract anyone he wanted. Yes, he’d be relieved to be spared her stuttering, gauche embarrassment. Last night’s Hannah had been some weird aberration fuelled by Dutch courage. She would put it down to Ireland Hannah. Today saw the resumption of normal service and the return of England Hannah. Yes, the sensible thing would be to creep out now.
She slid out of bed and ducked to the floor with outstretched hands, trying to find her things. Creeping around an unfamiliar room trying to scramble into your clothes before you were caught was easier said than done. Ah, trousers! Where were her knickers? Inching her way across the soft carpet, her fingers scrabbled and by pure chance found them nestled into the skirting board. God, this was exactly why she didn’t normally do this sort of thing. She was not cut out to be a ninja. With a cautious glance towards the bed, she wriggled into her knickers and trousers. When she found her top, she yanked it on quickly, praying she’d find her bra soon. And there it was. To save time, she stuffed it into her trouser pocket.
She quickly found her coat, handbag, and just one of her shoes. Where the hell was the other? Crisp cotton hotel sheets rustled as Conor turned over and she held her breath.Please don’t let him wake up.It would be even more mortifying if he caught her trying to steal away. She listened, but his breathing remained steady and even. For a moment she was tempted to take a final peek at him but then she decided that was a) a bit pervy and b) too risky.
Where the heck was her dratted shoe? Cinderella she wasn’t. Outside, the birds started up with a piping tweet here and a sweet whistle there. The dawn chorus. Strands of pink started to fill the sky through the window. In their haste last night, they hadn’t bothered with curtains. Conor turned again and his breathing changed. Oh no, what if he woke up now?
Sod it. When was she going to wear heels again while she was here? Mina had told her she’d be on her feet all day. She’d have to leave it. On her hands and knees, she inched her way towards the door, grateful for the protection of the corridor which led to the bathroom. At last, she grasped the door handle and slipped out, so relieved that she’d made it she didn’t care if there was anyone in the hallway to see her walk of shame.
Two hours later, she slipped into the driver’s seat of the little Peugeot she’d hired, her head flopping back against the head rest as she went limp for a second. Phew. Mission accomplished. When she’d got back to her room, there was no way she could have gone back to sleep so she’d ordered a room service breakfast, and although her heart had hammered against her ribs when she was in reception checking out, she’d made it out to the car park without setting eyes on Conor. Now she was home free and could look forward to her next adventure. With a heartfelt sigh, she switched on the engine and steered the little Peugeot out of the hotel car park, following the directions of the map application on her phone.
It was eight o’clock and the roads were busy with people heading to work, but she navigated the ring road without too many problems and decided to take it steady. There was a four-hour drive ahead of her, crossing to the other side of Ireland to the county of Kerry. As she wasn’t due until two, she had bags of time. She would stop for lunch; perhaps be brave and search out somewhere interesting en route.
She headed out of the city, her interest caught by unfamiliar places, Clondalkin, Rathcoole, Crookshane, The Curragh, Clonmullen. She said the names out loud as she passed the motorway signs, her mouth rolling around the consonants mimicking what she was convinced was an Irish accent. She decided, fancifully, that they were just begging to be spoken and amused herself by practising her accent in the privacy of her car.
As she drove, she noted that the fields on either side of the road were every bit as green and lush as reputed. The country deserved its other name, the Emerald Isle. Some landmarks like Tesco were familiar while others, like convenience store Centra and DIY wholesaler Woodies, were unfamiliar. In some ways the country felt familiar and in others, rather alien. She was really here after all this time.
After a few hours she pulled off the motorway into the services to grab a quick sandwich. She could almost hear her sister’s voice in her ear telling her she was being boring and playing safe. Mina would have been off down a side road in search of local cafe faster than a lemming could throw itself off a cliff.
She peered at her roadmap as she unwrapped a cheese sandwich and then dropped her finger on the page in surprised delight. Tralee. Where Aidan and Sorcha lived. She hadn’t realised it was quitethatclose to Kilorgally. With a grin she picked up her phone and texted her friends.
The Eagle has landed.
Yay. Hope you had a great journey. When can you come see us?
I’ll give you a call when I’m settled and know a bit more about my routine. Can’t wait to catch up and to see the bump. Had no idea you were so nearby. Xxx
Just a stone’s throw by local standards. See you soon. x
Once she left the motorway, it was easier to take in the scenery, and the roads grew smaller and quieter as they wound between lichen-dotted dry-stone walls. On either side, patchwork quilts of green fields draped the landscape with the cleanest sheep she’d ever seen dotted across them like embroidered knots of white. Above the final barrier of dry-stone walls, hills gathered along the horizon dappled with clouds of pale-purple heather interspersed with vivid green hillocks of grass. From memory, Hannah could picture the map of this part of Kerry, the land jutting out in a long, jagged finger that stretched out into the Atlantic. The coastline should be coming into view at any moment.
When the blue-green horizon finally came into view, an inner excitement compelled her to pull over and stop in the first small layby she saw, overlooking a craggy cove several feet below. It reminded her of her childhood holidays when the whole family competed to be the first to see the sea. Keen to see the view, she hopped out of the car. Normally her aim was to get from A to B as quickly and efficiently as possible without stopping, but there was something about Ireland that made her want to act out of character. A stiff breeze lifted and tossed her curls, bringing with it the tang of salt and the faint scent of the heather. This definitely beat looking out at a drizzly Manchester through her office window. White-headed waves churned and raced over the outcrop of rocks below, the oily green sea boiling and frothing into the nooks and crannies. There was something about the sea that made you feel alive, she thought as she watched the dancing ebb and flow of the water. She lifted her head to watch brilliant white clouds scudding across a cobalt sky as the wind plastered her hair across her face and she realised, with a blooming sense of wonder, that if she hadn’t stopped she’d have missed this sense of exhilaration; the feeling of being alive and attuned to nature. Perhaps she ought to be a bit more adventurous instead of always taking the straight line. A punch of guilt hit her in the solar plexus. Maybe she shouldn’t have crept out of that hotel room like that. Conor had been fun and he’d made it clear he wasn’t expecting any great commitment or anything. She should have been braver and stayed to face him, like last night’s Hannah would have done. Too late now, although the hotel staff had seemed to know him – the barman at least. Was she being silly for wondering if she might track him down? And do what? Apologise for leaving like a big fat coward?
With an irritated shake of her head, she climbed back into the car and checked her watch. It was only quarter to one. Oh well, she could sit and wait in the car if she arrived too early.
Setting off again, she came to the turning she needed to take, clearly signposted to Killorgally Cookery School. Making a split-second decision, she drove past the turning, staying on the main road. She’d be daft to sit in her car when it was so beautiful out here. This was a golden opportunity to do a bit of exploring. As the road curled around the coast, she spotted an intriguing spit of land stretching out into the sea closely followed by signs for somewhere called Inch Beach. That would be the perfect place to stop and take a walk.
She drove into a small hamlet, a collection of low rectangular white-washed cottages dotted to the right of the road overlooking the sea. On the side of the road was a small hotel, its wooden trim painted a deep royal blue, and opposite was a track leading down towards a car park and a wide expanse of sandy beach. Indicating, she pulled off the road and slowed to turn into the car park and stop the car. This time, when she got out, she went round to the boot, and dug out her walking boots and a windproof jacket. It might have been the tail end of August, but the wind was most definitely fresh.
There was a yellow-painted cafe doing a roaring trade in ice cream, and a surf hire shop on the edge of a wide, flat beach. To the left, a range of sand dunes covered in coarse grass stretched along the length of the beach out into the sea and opposite, across the narrow stretch of sea, hills rose as dark green shadows against the sunny sky. As she ambled along the beach she wondered at the name, Inch Beach – somewhat of a misnomer as the land extended for several miles. Although busy with surfers, walkers, and families enjoying windswept picnics, it didn’t feel at all crowded. Stopping to breathe in long and deep, she watched a host of seabirds skittering backwards and forwards on spindly legs, synchronised in their busy searches with sudden changes of direction as they criss-crossed in and out of the wide shallows.
Fascinated by the birds, she watched and walked for a good twenty minutes, the peace seeping into every pore before she decided to turn back, grab an ice cream, and head to Killorgally. She smiled to herself as a little flutter of excitement danced low in her belly. Killorgally. Hopefully it would live up to her expectations, and hopefully the pictures in the Sunday supplement that had so entranced her had not been airbrushed and dressed to create a cosy farmhouse effect that didn’t actually exist outside the pages of a glossy magazine. It would be such a disappointment. Now that she was here, having stepped out of her comfort zone, she wanted it to be every bit as good as she’d imagined. This was her adventure and she wanted to live every minute of it.
Chapter Four
