Hannah felt a little disturbed by the uncharitable pleasure she received from Conor’s slip of the knife. She wasn’t normally the bloodthirsty type, but she was still fuming with him.
‘Ah, Hannah. Izzy,’ said Adrienne. ‘Has Bridget finished with you?’
They nodded.
‘Izzy would you mind helping Meredith and Alan? Hannah, would you ask Conor what you can do to help?’ Hannah nodded, her heart plummeting to her feet. She tried to keep an unemotional expression on her face as Adrienne gave her a serene smile. Why was it that she had a feeling that Adrienne had paired her up with Conor deliberately?
Walking over to the bench, Hannah steeled herself for another of his scowls.
‘Hi. Adrienne has asked me to ask you if you need any more help.’ The words made it clear she was there under sufferance.
‘You can trim the asparagus,’ he said without looking up from the cabbage he was shredding with clean, even, lethal slices.
‘Yes, chef,’ she snapped, annoyed by his rudeness.
He ignored her and she began slicing off the ends of the poor innocent vegetable with uncharacteristic savagery. Wishing all sorts of ills upon him, she applied herself to the mountainous pile of vegetables. Feeding seventy-five people with six asparagus stalks per person amounted to a lot of chopping. She’d been at it for half an hour when he came over and picked up one of the stalks.
‘These are too long. They need another inch off the bottom to fit into the steamers.’ With that impersonal observation, he turned and walked away. She narrowed her eyes, watching his broad back in his chef’s whites and was about to poke her tongue out at him when she realised that Adrienne was watching with interest, her bird-like eyes bright and keen. Hannah’s mouth twisted and she ducked her head and began chopping again. Sod Conor Byrne. He was an overgrown kid who needed to sort things out with his mother. He was the one with the problem.
When she looked up next, having redone all the asparagus to the correct size, Conor had disappeared but Adrienne was passing. ‘What would you like me to do with these?’ Hannah asked.
‘Oh, could you pop them in the cold room? We’ll store most of the food in there, ready for this evening when kitchen prep starts.’
Hannah picked up the tray and walked from the kitchen into the narrow corridor which led to the cold store, realising she needed to go to the loo. Popping the tray down she retreated and hurried to the ladies’, realising that the regular coffee breaks she and Izzy had taken earlier were now making themselves felt. At the sight of the chaise longue, she was tempted to take a seat and bawl her eyes out. Clearly Conor, who had got completely the wrong end of the stick, was not going to forgive her anytime soon. And she didn’t feel like forgiving him and his quick assumptions about her. It was a matter of pride, but it also hurt that he couldn’t even bring himself to speak to her. What had happened to the friendship and camaraderie that had developed between them in the cottage? Had she really imagined that special moment in Dublin when she’d thought at the very least he was going to say he really liked her? Was it just wishful thinking that she’d hoped he might love her? Which just went to show what an idiot she was, believing in fairy tales.
She glared at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands.You idiot, she mouthed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Thankfully, Conor continued to avoid her in the kitchen for the rest of the day and as the afternoon progressed, things started to get more frenetic. There wasn’t time to think, let alone think about him. At three o’clock Adrienne declared that their work was done and that the professionals would take over from here.
‘Go rest yourselves and dress up in your glad rags. Tonight’s going to be a fine party. You’ll want your dancing legs ready. The fun starts at six-thirty. Don’t be late now,’ she said, still full of energy as always. The woman was a human dynamo still whirling around the kitchen stirring pans, tasting and beaming at everyone and everything. It was, Hannah concluded, wonderful to find the thing that you are so passionate about. She was looking forward to working with Aidan and with the myriad challenges and issues that came up in a local legal practice. Ingrams in the last few years had grown so much that they did much more corporate work, which wasn’t half as interesting as dealing with real people’s lives. Her spirits lifted at the thought of making a change and taking a risk.
She hurried back to the cottage to get ready, hoping that she wouldn’t run into Conor. When she pushed the front door open, closing it very quietly behind her, she listened carefully and heaved a silent sigh. The only movement was the dust motes flitting about in the sunshine that poured through the skylight above the hallway. She peeped into the kitchen which was empty and, feeling like a ninja, she tiptoed across the hall and up the stairs, wincing when the odd one creaked. Conor’s bedroom door was closed, but still she crossed the hall to her room as quickly as she could and slipped inside. Relieved that she’d reached sanctuary, she began to strip off her damp clothes. They’d all been running around like lunatics since first thing and her face and skin were slicked with a sheen of sweat. She felt grimy and desperate for a shower. She rolled her eyes. That was out for starters. Instead she’d have to make do with a quick sluice in the bath.
It was only when she grabbed her bathrobe that she spotted it. A solitary shoe lay on her bed. A plain black sensible court shoe, silhouetted against the white duvet like the dramatic front cover of a crime thriller. She’d entitle it,Death of a Romance. She swallowed hard and stared at the polished leather. There was a small note with it.
Sorry it’s taken so long to return.
The careful placing of the shoe seemed horribly symbolic, a message officially severing the link between her and Conor. It felt like a sad remnant, a wisp of memory from that first evening spent together, as if the last few weeks had been wiped out and that was all that had ever been between them. The apology suggested that he was sorry he couldn’t feel the same about her as she did about him. There was a finality about it that kicked her straight in the gut with an angry punch.
A lump lodged itself in her throat and she blinked back tears. Stupid really. Why hadn’t she ever realised that falling in love with someone was the biggest risk of all? Moving to Ireland, getting a new job – there was no risk at all. It was a change but it could all be managed. She could afford a house here, there was a job for her, and if it didn’t work out she had the experience to get another.
When you fell in love, you had no control over the other person’s feelings. It was a huge risk. You opened up your heart and left it unprotected, and who knew that it could be so fragile? Or so easily hurt? Or that there would be a physical ache in her chest? Or that her spirits would drag like chains pulling on her ankles. Bugger. Love hurt. It really bloody did.
An hour later, with her head held high, she slipped on the black court shoes with a touch of defiance and left the house hunched under a large umbrella. Unfortunately, the rain had begun not long after she’d dressed, with no indication of let-up. There’d been no sign of Conor either. Walking up the track in heels through small rivulets of water probably wasn’t her best move but everyone was dressing up tonight and she needed armour.
In the early evening light, the greenhouse shone through the drizzle, its windows giving off a soft, almost magical glow. The sounder of chatter drifted out through the doors and windows as she neared the entrance where the others had congregated, each of them holding a flute of pale sparkling wine next to a pile of abandoned umbrellas.
‘Hannah,’ called Izzy, immediately snagging a glass from one of the waiters nearby and pressing it into her hand. ‘You look gorgeous. Haven’t we all brushed up well?’
Hannah pushed her slightly damp curls over her shoulder, grateful that she’d not attempted some stylish up-do. It would have collapsed in the wet weather.
Meredith was in a lovely patterned maxi dress that flowed over her soft curves while Izzy wore white palazzo pants and a silk vest in bright green with a big white pashmina slung around her shoulders giving an uncharacteristically glamorous stamp to her tall frame. Even Jason had abandoned his habitual jeans and she wasn’t about to tell him that he looked like one of the waiters in his smart white shirt and black trousers. Alan was the surprise of the night in a very smart grey suit that had a whiff of custom tailoring to it. He looked almost unrecognisable and Hannah wondered what he had done before he retired. Even his posture was different, with a definite touch of corporate heavyweight about him.
Just then, Fliss arrived wearing a very smart cream shift dress that had ‘day at the races’ written all over it, her face flushed with excitement. ‘You’ll never guess what I’ve just seen. Polly Daventree. Here with her new husband. She said she was in the area and popped in on the off chance there might be space.’
Hannah’s heart sank. Poor Conor.
