‘Do I?’ asked Hannah, injecting her voice with as much innocence as she could muster and adopting what she hoped was a smile rather than a grimace. ‘These are heavier than I thought they’d be, that’s probably it.’
‘Hmm, although I’d still rather be doing the donkey work than making hollandaise sauce for seventy-five.’ Izzy led the way into the greenhouse, where the gardeners were now stringing what looked like miles of fairy lights.
‘Me too,’ said Hannah. ‘I’m never going to be a chef.’ It was all right for her to say it, but not Conor. He’d been deliberately hurtful and it still stung. Despite that, she couldn’t stop loving him or the heart-cramping pain that thinking about him brought.
‘Did you really want to be?’ asked Izzy. ‘I just wanted to learn enough about cooking that I won’t poison people and can have a go at things people ask for.’
Hannah laughed. ‘No, truth be told, I just wanted to be competent.’
‘Well, I’d say you’re more than competent.’ Izzy propped her crate on one hand as she walked along, setting the jars of flowers at regular intervals. Hannah followed her, placing candles in jars between each flower arrangement.
‘I’m going to stay in Ireland,’ said Hannah, suddenly.
Izzy nearly knocked a vase over as she spun round to face Hannah. ‘For real?’
‘Yes.’
‘Fantastic. What will you do?’
‘Remember me telling you about my friend Aidan? We used to work together in England. He’s offered me a job and…’ Hannah winced. ‘You were the one who said I wasn’t a romantic but I think Ireland has changed that.’ Putting another candle down on the next table, she waved a hand at the view through the window. ‘I can’t imagine not seeing this anymore. The thought of going back to work in the city, in an office in a high rise, makes me feel slightly claustrophobic. Which is weird because I’ve always loved my job – I still do, but…’ She laughed at herself. ‘I want chickens.’ She also wanted a man like Conor in her life, but, she realised with an inward pang, she couldn’t do anything about that. She could, however, do something about the chickens.
‘Good for you,’ said Izzy, clapping her across the shoulder. ‘I can’t imagine living in a city. I love the castle. I just hope I can make it earn enough money to keep the ruddy place going.’
‘I’ve never imagined living in the country before.’
‘I think Killorgally has some magical influence. I’d like to make the castle like this, a place where you feel at home but at the same time also part of something bigger. Coming here has given me so many ideas, especially the way your cottage has been done with those lovely homely touches.’
‘Me too. It’s made me realise that my flat is not really much of a home. I won’t be sad to leave it, whereas, well, the cottage… I will be a little bit heartbroken to leave but,’ she smiled at Izzy, ‘I can look for my own little cottage.’ The thought thrilled her and she was already thinking of the sorts of things that would be on her house-buying shopping list. An open fireplace, a kitchen-diner – or the potential to create one – a front garden and a back garden and a bathroom big enough for a shower with a magic button. A lump chose to appear in her throat as another thought slipped through. Conor would have been able to give her some good advice and suggestions. She ignored it and said, brightly, ‘Adrienne has a friend who has a place I can rent for a few months while I sort myself out.’
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of activity as she and Izzy polished the cutlery which was a random selection of antique silver, some of which needed a good clean. While some of the place settings were stored in their original wooden boxes with velvet linings, there were also job lots in open boxes which meant Hannah had to hunt down the different styles to create matching sets. They also had to sort through a pile of neatly ironed linen napkins, some with pretty embroidery, others plain in pastel shades, and more in delicate faded floral prints, and had great fun choosing which of the assorted napkin rings to use.
‘What about this?’ asked Izzy as she posted a pale-blue napkin through a sea shell-adorned ring.
‘Very seaside. I’ve got a floral theme going on here,’ said Hannah, picking out a bright-yellow linen square and a wooden napkin ring decorated with a large felt sunflower.
‘You’re doing great work,’ said Bridget, coming to watch. ‘Not a bother,’ she added as Hannah’s face fell when she realised that the pattern on the handle of a fork and spoon weren’t quite the same and had to start sorting through the cutlery again. ‘Don’t worry if it’s not perfect. We’ve collected everything over the years from antique shops and family hand-me-downs as well as friends donating to us. But it’s a nice touch rather than hire them all in from a catering company. Although we do hire in the plates and glasses so that everyone has the same size, otherwise making sure everyone gets the same portions goes a bit skewwhiff.’
An hour later, Hannah stepped back to examine their handiwork.
‘Doesn’t it look lovely?’ said Izzy, following her gaze.
‘It looks wonderful.’ The table had been transformed and the bright-white cloths highlighted the splashes of colours from the blousy flowers that billowed from their vases and the rainbow cheer of the different napkins. Fairy lights were now strung throughout the greenhouse and the candle jam jars had been suspended from the vent handles. When dusk fell, Hannah could see that it was going to look spectacular.
‘Excellent, girls, but there’s lots more to be done. If you can go back to the kitchen, I’m sure Adrienne can find you a hundred and one jobs.’
Both Hannah and Izzy lifted their eyebrows in mock dismay but Izzy probably felt as she did, Hannah decided: that it was fun to be involved. There was such a fizz of excitement about this evening’s dinner; the whole of Killorgally was involved and the place buzzed with activity, enthusiasm, and good cheer. All the permanent workers had been drafted in, the two men who looked after the pigs, the other women who worked at the hotel, the gardeners as well as the students who were here picking fruit and working on the farm. They were all familiar faces that Hannah had become accustomed to over the last few weeks and while she might not know their names, she knew what they did and that they were all part of the Killorgally family. Saying goodbye was going to be so hard. Feeling a sudden pinch of pain, she realised she was going to miss them all.
When Hannah and Izzy returned to the kitchen, Meredith was laughing at something Alan had said, Fliss was telling Jason off in teasing tones, while Adrienne and Mairead were busy chatting away while sliding trays of seed-topped bread rolls into the ovens. There was a sense of well-oiled machinery, with everyone doing their part but in a calm, efficient manner with none of the frenetic activity of shouty TV-chef kitchens. Hannah’s eyes, with a life of their own it seemed, homed straight in on Conor who was busy chopping like a fiend, occasionally raising his head to make some point to Jason and Fliss. Her heart constricted at the sight of him and, as if he sensed her presence, he immediately looked up and scowled at her.
‘Fuck,’ he said, bringing his hand to his mouth as a spurt of blood appeared on his thumb.
‘Conor Byrne, I heard that,’ said Adrienne without turning around. ‘That’ll be a euro in the jar.’
Jason grinned.
‘Ouch,’ said Fliss in her usual loud, plummy voice. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Fine!’ snapped Conor, and stalked to the other side of the kitchen, yanking a red first aid kit out of the cupboard and applying a blue plaster.
