John wasn’t backward in coming forwards. As soon as she had finished her second cup of tea, he said politely but firmly, ‘Now Trisha, don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?’
‘Oh sorry.’ She stood up quickly and brushed some stray biscuit crumbs off her lap, onto John’s immaculately clean tiled floor. He watched on with raised eyebrows. Apparently, he was a fellow neat freak.
‘I’m taking up your entire weekend here, telling you my life story. I’ll see you before you go back, ok?’ She gave me another tight hug before she whirled out as quickly as she had whirled in.
‘I’m going to have to start locking that front door,’ John said grimly. ‘Where were we?’ He crossed the floor to reach me and resumed his position, his warm full lips over mine. His fingers ran through my loose hair, tracing my neckline, gently edging down towards my bust.
Once again, we were rudely interrupted as his mobile phone rang loudly on the counter.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s a fucking conspiracy! Yes?’ he answered the phone brashly.
I couldn’t hear the other person and I only caught half of what he was saying, between his accent and the speed in which he replied, but I gathered it was his mother.
‘Yeah. She’s here.’ Pause while the other person spoke. ‘Yeah, we will. Later. Definitely. Yeah, I told you I would, didn’t I?’ He rolled his eyes with a smile. ‘Yeah. We’ll see you in a bit. I’ll tell her.’ He winked at me. ‘Mam is looking forward to meeting you.’ He threw the phone back down on the counter with a smirk.
‘Did you tell her everything?’ I’d asked him to be honest with his family about my situation and the circumstances. Honesty’s the best policy. John assured me his parents wouldn’t care, said they were more like friends to him than parents. He spoke of them fondly. But I was acutely aware that I was in a predominantly Catholic country where some ideas were at least fifty years behind the times. Divorce only became legal a few years ago.
‘They know. They can’t wait to meet you. My sister thinks you could be the one,’ he teased.
I was flattered, but didn’t have time to over-think it as he pulled my hand and proceeded to finish the tour of the house. Pushing back sliding doors at the far end of the kitchen, he revealed a brightly lit sunroom. Floor to ceiling church windows overlooked a rocky beach, a mere stone's throw away. The wildAtlantic Ocean crashed powerfully, foam ripples lapped at the shore before bubbling and fizzing back out with the tide again.
It was rustically beautiful, so wild. I could have stared out of the window for days, watching the swell of the ocean. It was so therapeutic.
‘Wow.’ I turned my head reluctantly away from the view to take in the rest of the room.
An open fire took centre place, and a custom-made beige sofa extended the length of the opposing back wall. I sat down for a minute, absorbing the peace and tranquillity. I felt a million miles away from the city I’d left only this morning.
‘You like it?’ He leant against the fireplace and tilted his head to the side in question.
‘It’s unreal. You never said.’
He shrugged.
To the left of the house, the side where there were no neighbours, stood an enormous barn, and a separate shed. Cattle grazed in the distance; the famous girls.
‘I’ll show you the rest.’ He steered me back to the hall, and off another doorway leading into a second sitting room. A sixty-five-inch television was mounted on the wall and an LED fire below it. Other than a brown leather suite of furniture and a bookcase, the room was a pretty bare.
‘Meet Steve.’ He gestured to the wall behind me where a stag’s head was mounted on the wall, and grinned at my disgust as I backed away from the unfortunate thing.
‘Steve has to go. Gross.’
We continued on with the tour, both well aware where it would end.
The downstairs bedroom was unsurprisingly cream again, with a plain bedspread and blackout blinds on the windows in line with the décor of rest of the house. He closed the bedroom door and opened the final door off of the hall. It was a wet room,bigger than my bedroom at home. A shower boasted mood changing LED lights above it. It was very tasteful, but plain.
‘Everything is magnolia. I figured one day when I eventually met someone, they might want to put their own stamp on it anyway. It keeps it bright, easy to maintain.’
He led me up the magnificent centre staircase and I looked up to see four VELUX windows directly above us, allowing the natural daylight to stream in, illuminating the hallway. We stood at the top, leaning our elbows on the bannister for a minute while I took it all in. The same wall lights were positioned in the same spots upstairs as downstairs. He was methodical in his approach; I’d have to give him that.
Behind the first door on the right was a bright and spacious double bedroom with an en-suite in the same style as the downstairs bedroom and wet room. The second door opened on to a very similar setup. He shrugged his shoulders as I laughed quietly.
The last door on the left could only have been his bedroom. Butterflies fluttered wildly within. He placed his hand reassuringly on top of mine as I hesitated briefly, fingers on the handle. Together, we opened the door.
A four-poster queen-size bed rested against the back wall, dressed with cream sheets and a darker faux fur throw. Two huge cream Victorian looking lamps stood proudly on each bedside locker. However impressive the bed was, it was not the main attraction. A floor to ceiling window captured the same view as the sunroom below, but the extra height meant the view was even more mesmerising, if that was possible.
‘Wow.’ My feet sank into the deep piled carpet as I crossed the room, eager to get a closer look. He followed me, resting his arms around my waist from behind, we looked out on to the ocean together. He nuzzled in at my neck and I turn to meet his kiss. ‘It’s absolutely stunning,’ I whispered.
He didn’t reply. Instead, he led me to the bed, pushed me back gently onto the plump pillows and looked questioningly at me, silently searching for permission. I nodded, slipping off my blazer and sandals.
