Eventually, I saw a sign that said Killala. He indicated right. We turned into a by-road and followed it along for about half a mile.
I glimpsed the crashing waves of the wild Atlantic Ocean at certain bends in the road. Three big detached stone frontedhouses loomed ahead, each with their own separate stone wall, one house set back further than the next. He indicated, and he pulled into the third one. It was impressive.
The gravel crunched under the tyres as he reversed into a parking space next to a gleaming green tractor.
‘My other wheels.’ I don’t know why I was surprised; I knew he was a farmer.
‘Welcome home.’ He leaned across the car, planting a tender, lingering kiss on my mouth.
The nerves gnawed at the lining of my stomach. Excitement hummed through my blood. We’d waited so long to be alone together, I was desperate for it to be as good as we’d both anticipated with the chemistry heightening for months.
One way or another, it was heading for a conclusion very soon.
He opened the car door for me. ‘Mind you don’t go over on your ankle in those stilts you’re wearing.’
I held onto his arm as he led me up the length of a cobbled pathway to a heavy, black front door. The windows were set symmetrically, two on either side of the door and a big corner window on each end of the house. The door was unlocked.
A spacious, light-cream hallway with a double height ceiling and a cream wooden centre staircase welcomed us. John led me by the hand through to the next room – an enormous kitchen. Again, the walls were cream with ivory, wooden cupboard doors and a slightly darker beige granite work top covering a huge island in the middle of the room. The island had three cream leather stools at one end, the other housed a wine-rack stocked with twenty-five bottles of various red and white wines.
This house was like something from Grand Designs.
‘Your house is beautiful.’ It wasn’t what I’d expected at all.
‘No, you are beautiful. This is just a house.’ He pushed me gently back against the island, sliding his hands inside my jacketand around my waist. Millimetres away from my face, he leaned in to kiss me deeply, slowly but fiercely, pushing his mouth on to mine. I rested my hands around his broad shoulders and pressed my body against his, exhaling as I handed myself over to him, revelling in the feeling of his hands on my seriously neglected body.
The front door banged loudly, and he rolled his eyes up to the sky and tutted.
‘Hello?’ A woman’s voice echoed through the spacious hallway.
Startled, we jumped apart.
In walked an absolutely stunning woman in tight navy jeans, knee-high boots and a slim-fitting cream jumper. She had dark short bobbed hair and her face was made-up with a hint of blush and mascara. She could pass as a model from an autumn clothing catalogue.
‘Sorry to just barge in on ye and ye just home.’ Her accent was as equally beautiful as the rest of her, although she clearly wasn’t a bit sorry for the intrusion. Excitement danced across her face as she took us both in arms around each other.
‘When I saw the car home, I just couldn’t help it. We’re all so desperate to meet this new woman of John’s that we keep hearing about!’ She examined me curiously as she crossed the room and shoved John out of the way, enveloping me in an unexpected bear hug.
‘Welcome home.’
She was the second person to welcome me home to a place that wasn’t actually home.
I stood rigid, slightly confused with no idea who this woman was, holding me tightly by the shoulders while she scrutinised my face.
John sniggered, enjoying my obvious discomfort.
‘Oh my God. I am so sorry! I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Trisha. I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on. I live next door.’ She let go of me then.
‘Trisha, it’s great to meet you.’ I genuinely meant it. She seemed absolutely lovely, if a tad over familiar.
‘We have heard so much about you, lady! I just couldn’t resist sticking my head in for a quick nose to see what all the fuss was about. We’ve never seen him like this about a woman before, he’s the talk of the town.’ John lowered his face slowly into his hands in embarrassment.
It was my turn to enjoy his discomfort. I smiled widely at Trisha and pulled out one of the leather stools. ‘Tell me more.’
She slid in without hesitation and said to John affectionately. ‘Put the kettle on will you, you miserable git.’
Trisha stayed for an hour and a half. I learnt that she was a primary school teacher with a three-year-old son, whose partner worked away a lot. She’d been at school with John and had known him her whole life. I got a lot of information in a short time, not getting a word in edgeways, but loving it. She was so lovely; open, honest and unafraid to laugh at herself.
It wasn’t exactly how I envisioned the afternoon going, but it was a brilliant second. I’d found a friend, at least.
