‘And I have just the place for you. You’re going to Ballybowen.’ Savannah squeezes me encouragingly as she leads me away from St. Jude’s. ‘And the phone coverage on that side of the country is crap.’
ChapterFour
HOLLY
‘The villa in Ballybowen is empty.’ Savannah frogmarches me through the door of my own modest, but modern, house.
My parents insisted I get on the property ladder the second I secured the job at St. Jude’s. Being tied to a mortgage ensured any notions of making a go of it as an artist were well and truly over, along with my dreams to travel the world.
‘What? No way!’ The villa is normally booked out years in advance.
Savannah bought five luxury properties scattered across the country as a rental investment when her blog first took off and the advertising, endorsements and ambassador roles began flooding in. With not one, but two accountant fathers to offer financial advice, Sav has made some savvy investments. Pun intended.
Ashley and I have been begging for a weekend in one of them for years, but there’s never any availability.
‘The American company that booked it cancelled at the last minute. They were super suspicious anyway, to be honest. Transferred the cash up front. Wanted to know about the security measures surrounding the property.’ She shoots me a dubious look and shrugs.
Tootsie, my dog, a fluffy white toy poodle, leaps off the couch and frolics through the narrow hallway to greet us with incessant licks from her sandpaper-rough tongue.
I scoop her into my arms, inhaling her comforting furry scent while Savannah continues talking, barely pausing for breath. ‘I mean, hello, it’s the west of Ireland! What security measures? People barely even lock their doors in that part of the world.’
It’s true. As kids, we holidayed in Sligo every summer and it was like travelling back in time. Rural life is worlds away from city life, but that’s part of the appeal right now.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind me using it?’
I’ve seen pictures online. The villa is absolutely stunning. Modern, white, bright, with a huge terrace with an outdoor hot tub and sauna, overlooking the crashing waves of the Atlantic.
Inside, an open fire nestles amongst an exposed brick fireplace. It looks idyllic.
‘Of course, Holly. It’s free until the New Year.’ Savannah strides up the white wooden staircase two at a time. I traipse behind, unable to keep pace with her long legs.
‘The New Year?’ I parrot.
It’s unheard of. Whoever cancelled must have plenty of cash to rent a place like that for the best part of two months.
‘I’ll pay you,’ I offer, following her into my bedroom where she heads straight to my closet, flinging the door open so hard the hinges squeak. ‘I don’t want to put you out of pocket.’ Though we both know, even on a really generous private schooling teaching salary, I can’t afford the usual rental price.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Savannah’s fingers swat the air in front of her face. ‘Besides, I told you, the suspicious Americans already paid. It was non-refundable, a fact they never even queried.’
‘And you don’t mind Tootsie coming?’ My fingernails scratch the head of the most loyal creature known to man.
‘Of course not.’ Savannah makes a kissing sound in Tootsie’s direction. ‘She’s my furry godchild. Now, what shall we pack for you?’
‘Baseball caps. Sunglasses. Sweatpants and jogging bottoms. Oversized and comfortable so I can eat my weight in chocolate and drown my sorrows in wine without worrying about my waistline.’ Another hot wave of shame crashes over me. ‘I won’t be able to show my face in public for years.’ I blow out a low, shaky breath. ‘And I thought I had social anxiety before.’
Savannah pulls me into a reassuring hug. ‘It’ll be okay.’ She steps back, her earnest eyes boring into mine. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’
Doubtful. The damage is already done. But I smile and nod, blinking back a fresh set of tears, grateful for her unwavering support and friendship, more than I’ve ever been grateful for anything in my life.
I stand mute as she throws half my wardrobe into my suitcase, including several little black dresses, the sexiest and most uncomfortable lingerie sets I own, and a handful of condoms from my bedside locker.
‘Where on earth do you think I’m going?’
‘Better to be prepared.’ She shoots me a wink. ‘If anyone finds out you’re there, they’ll be beating the door down to get to you! I mean, did you even see your boobs in that video? Round, full, pert. I’m not hitting on you, by the way, it’s just an observation. Women pay thousands for breasts like that every day of the week.’
‘Eurgh, Savannah, don’t!’ My palms cup my cheeks. The situation is way too raw to make jokes about. I place Tootsie on the floor and flop face-first onto the soft cotton of my bed.
‘I’m just saying, if you can’t stay on at St. Jude’s you have other options, you know, like topless modelling or lap dancing.’ Her go-to deflection has always been humour.
