The name on the bronze illuminated plaque on the white walls outside doesn’t lie. ‘Ard Na Mara,’ Gaelic for ‘high above the sea.’ And this place towers right on the water’s edge. The photos don’t do it justice.
The rhythmic soothing of crashing waves and their immediate proximity are a form of therapy alone. The salty scent of seaweed lingers in the air, seeping into my nostrils, cleansing me from the inside out.
I inhale a deep breath, blowing it out slowly.
It was one video.
It will blow over.
A bright sensor light illuminates the driveway as I park to the right of the duck-egg blue panelled door. Huge plant pots punctuate the space on either side of three shallow steps. They’re overflowing with decorative green foliage. A thick sandy-coloured mat sits on the top step, emblazoned with the word ‘welcome’ in italic scrawl. Huge wrap-around windows flank each corner of the house.
It’s just gorgeous. I can barely wait for daylight to see this place in all its magnificent glory.
I fish out the keys from the glove compartment, feeling more optimistic than I have in hours. Tootsie hops across the centre console, straight into my arms.
‘Welcome home, Toots.’ I balance my dog on my left arm and use my right hand to slot the key into the lock, twisting until the door swings open.
The inside of the house is just as enticing as the outside. I flick on chrome light switches and drink in the wide spacious hallway, the huge sweeping glass and chrome stairway to my left.
Sauntering in, I find a huge open-plan kitchen/ living area with a double-height ceiling. At the far side of the room, triple sliding doors look out onto a sheltered terrace. The hot tub comes into sight. It’s positioned slightly to the left so as not to block the view. From the photos in the brochure, I already know the sauna is tucked against the wall behind it.
I slide open the door and take a lungful of sea air. With the wind whipping against this side of the villa, it’s blustery, but life-affirming.
Everything will be okay.
It has to be.
I slide the door closed again and send up my millionth silent thank you to Savannah for offering me such a beautiful place to bury my head in the sand. If things get any worse, I might actually have to bury it on Ballybowen’s four-mile beach.
Swivelling on my heels, I pad across the mahogany varnished original wooden flooring back to the living area. A huge, inviting couch, and two opposing arm chairs flank the open fireplace. Thick velvet cushions look comfortable enough to rest my weary head on, but even though I’m wrecked, I wouldn’t dare close my eyes yet for fear of the flashbacks I know my brain is going to torment me with the second I do.
My gaze rises to a sixty-five-inch television hanging on the exposed sandy-coloured brick wall above. Perfect. A movie and a glass of wine are exactly what I need tonight.
I take the stairs with Tootsie still tucked beneath my arms. There are seven bedrooms. And they’re all painted the same shade, a matte ivory. The villa’s thick, intricate skirting circling the room is a brilliant white. It’s neutral tones are crisp and bright, if a little bare.
Sav could definitely do with some art for her walls. Painting something for her is the least I can do as a thank you for letting me stay.
Besides, how else am I going to spend my run-up to Christmas? Apart from crying, overeating and bingeing Hallmark movies, of course.
Throwing off my jacket, I head back downstairs to collect my luggage and Tootsie’s bed. On my way back in, I spot a welcome basket on the white marble kitchen countertop, overflowing with handmade chocolates, expensive wine, luxury cheese, breads and jams. My ravenous stomach rumbles.
‘Everything’s going to be okay, Toots.’ I press a kiss against the top of her head, fully aware it’s me I’m trying to reassure, not her.
I place my furry friend on the floor and open a bottle of Sancerre from the basket.
Locating a fishbowl-sized glass in one of the cupboards, I fill it to the brim. After the day I’ve had, it’s medicinal.
Tootsie makes herself at home on one of the crushed velvet cushions as I light the fire.
This entire situation is a nightmare. I don’t even care about missing Christmas, but it will kill me if I can’t make Conor and Clarissa’s wedding.
Maybe if I keep my head down and let this entire thing blow over, I could sneak in unnoticed?
Doubtful. My chest seizes, the icy hands of my anxiety threatening to squeeze the last drop of breath from my lungs. I count to ten slowly, concentrating on every inhalation.
This too shall pass. It’s been a moto Savannah, Ashley and I have lived by for as long as I can remember.
Half an hour and two huge glasses of wine later, I change into one of the ridiculous sexy red nighties Sav packed for me and flop on the couch next to Tootsie, wishing I could crawl out of my own head.
