‘It surely is. There’s no place like it. We’ll make a good Mayo woman out of you yet.’ He smiled and turned his attention back to the animals.
‘We’ll see you later, no doubt,’ John called over his shoulder as we headed towards the barn. It turned out the barn wasn’t actually a barn. As we got closer, I could see the stables and four fine big horses in their paddocks.
‘Did you ever ride?’
‘No. I wish.’ I had wanted to when I was younger, but my mum was such a worrywart she thought I’d fall off.
‘I’ll teach you,’ he promised, stroking the horses affectionately. ‘This is Maisy. She’s a thoroughbred.’
I nodded like I knew what that meant and we continued the tour. There were hens and geese as well. Apparently, they laid the best eggs I’d ever taste. John brought me into what I thought was a shed, but it actually looked more like a work shop.
‘This is where the real work gets done.’ He gestured at numerous antique-looking pieces around him. There were vases and pictures and furniture and all sorts of objects I didn’t recognise.
‘What is this place?’
‘This is where we make the money,’ he said gratefully.
‘I thought you were a dairy farmer?’
‘I am. I was. Since things took off with the antiques a few years ago, I had to get some help in.’ He referred to Hugh and Sam. ‘I didn’t expect it to go so well, but business is booming. I have an excellent eye for detail.’ He looked at me suggestively.
‘Oh, you do, do you? An excellent eye may be one thing, but a reluctant tongue is another. You never mentioned any of this to me.’ I thought we’d talked about everything; I couldn’t understand why he didn’t tell me about any of it. I shared everything with him.
‘I was going to tell you. I didn’t want to bore the pants off you before you even got here. Antiques aren’t riveting to most people. It started off as a hobby but it turned out to be a lot more.’
I noticed a laptop on an old mahogany desk in the corner and realised it looked familiar to me. This is where he did his FaceTiming from. No wonder I expected a quaint crumbly cottage with wooden beams.
‘Most of the business is done online, but I could be in Dublin twice a week sometimes.’ It made sense, his ease in the city and the car and house.
Why he didn’t tell me? Not that it mattered, but it was such an impressive achievement. He was obviously good at what he did. He should be proud.
My stomach rumbled loudly. I’d forgotten to eat with all the excitement of the day and it showed.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘I’ll fix you up some dinner, you’re going to need some soakage.’
‘Why? Where are we going?’
‘You’ll see.’ He grinned elusively.
As it transpired, he was a dab hand in the kitchen as well as everything else. I don’t know why I was surprised.
I sat at the island sipping a glass of Malbec from his extensive wine collection while he chopped mushrooms and onions to go with the fillet steaks he was frying. It smelt delicious.
Was there anything this man couldn’t do?
It was surreal how much everything had changed in the last ten weeks. That was all it was, but it felt like a lifetime.
If anyone had told me the night of Heidi’s hen that I would meet a red-haired Irishman and leave my husband, I would have laughed in their faces. Yet, I did. And it felt so right.
A niggle of worry slithered into my gut at the impossible prospect of a future together. I forced it to the back of my mind, determined not to ruin the trip over-analysing the future.
We ate side by side at the island. The fillets were done to perfection, medium rare.
‘Is there anything you can’t do?’ I asked him.
‘I’m sure there are plenty of things I can’t do. I just haven’t found them yet,’ he said smugly, with a wink.
‘You’re amazing.’ I meant it.
