‘Of course. Guests have free rein here. How are you getting on?’ He put his hand up to shield his eyes. ‘One of the wedding party, are you?’
‘That’s right. Patrick Power.’ He held out his hand and shook the older man’s soil-hardened one.
‘Teddy O’Malley. You’re very welcome to Cliff Top.’
Rosie’s father, then. ‘Thank you. The gardens are beautiful.’
‘They mind themselves,’ said Teddy. ‘My job is just to assist where necessary. But I always think with nature, if you can just let it do what it wants to do and that’s grow and be happy, you don’t need to interfere too much. I do a little bit of weeding, a bit of tying back, watering where needed, all of that, and let it do its thing. It’s like having a star on your hands and giving it the space to be.’
Patrick looked around at the garden, the neat rectangles of beds, the grassy paths bisecting the space, the greenhouse filled with green, the red of the tomatoes visible through the grass.
Teddy smiled at Patrick. ‘I’m bringing you all down to the beach shortly. I’m under strict instructions to get you there on time.’ He spotted something on the tall, sinewy vine, which was coiling around the bamboo poles. ‘Weevils,’ he said. ‘Not a lot I can do about them, except flick them off and hope their predator comes hunting. But try this…’ He plucked a pod from the plant. ‘My own peas. Nothing sweeter.’ He lightly pressed it with his thumb and offered it to Patrick, who plucked out the peas straight into his mouth.
‘Delicious.’ And they were. Sweet and honeyed and nothing like peas you ever bought.
Teddy grinned at him. ‘Do you have a gardening family?’
‘Farming. Dairy. In Cork.’
‘Well, that’s the ultimate in gardening, isn’t it? The land, whether it’s animals or plants, it’s all the same, making a living from the soil.’
‘I don’t know how much of a living was made,’ said Patrick with a laugh.
‘It’s a good life,’ he said. ‘My daughter runs the hotel and all I have to worry about is being out here.’
‘You must be proud of her,’ said Patrick, wishing Teddy would talk more about Rosie and tell him things he didn’t know.
But Teddy wouldn’t divulge. ‘I’m proud of both of them, Rosie and Vanessa. Have you met them?’
‘I’ve met Rosie,’ said Patrick. ‘Not Vanessa.’
‘Well, they’re fine girls, the two of them. I worry about Rosie, though, being so away from everything. I’d like her to go and see a bit of the world, you know? Have her own adventures.’ He paused. ‘I worry that she’s doing all this to please me, that she’s only here because she didn’t want to let her mother’s legacy come to nothing. I tried to talk to her at the time my wife died, but she was so determined. Her mind was made up. She’s stubborn, just like her mam.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, this is none of your concern. Just my ramblings.’
‘That’s okay.’ Patrick smiled at him. ‘I think she’s lovely.’ He felt himself reddening, as though he was a teenager. ‘I mean… not lovely… except, you know, just seems very nice, from what I know of her and we just met so briefly.’ He turned to go, feeling exceptionally awkward. ‘Beautiful gardens, Teddy,’ he said, recovering his smooth composure. ‘I’ll see you for the trip to the beach.’
He walked back to the hotel, through the gardens, listening to the birdsong rising from the hedges and trees, the blue sky above, finding patches of shade along the path. He picked some lavender and put it into his pocket. There was the bench he had met Rosie on this morning and he wished he was back right there and he could explain himself better, perhaps. She had said that she was long over it. He was pleased, in one way, that she had been able to move on with her life and that it hadn’t prevented her from being happy. Even if it was with Laurence. But he realised that she didn’t know how much he’d suffered, how lonely he had been, how much he’d hated leaving her.She doesn’t know, he thought.She has no idea. She thinks it was easy for me.
19
ROSIE
Rosie found Maureen in the laundry room, her feet in a plastic washing-up bowl of water, with ice cubes floating around. Bertie was on a chair beside her, his feet also in a washing-up bowl, the legs of his linen trousers rolled up to his knees. ‘You know, Maureen,’ he was saying. ‘I think you might be on to something here. It’s working a treat.’
‘I’ll keep the ice bowls going, Bertie,’ she said. ‘Any time you need a dip, quick dunk, and you’re done.’ She looked up at Rosie. ‘I have discovered the secret to staying cool,’ she said. ‘Freeze your feet and the body follows suit. Want to join me? Pull up a stool there, now, and honestly, it’s working. I feel actually cold from the inside.’
‘It’s a miracle, that’s what it is,’ said Bertie. ‘I’m actually cold. Maybe even a little too cold.’
‘Chance would be a fine thing, Albert,’ said Maureen. ‘Should have done this years ago when I was having all those hot flushes, the blood racing to my head and I’d be a puddle in no time at all.’ She lifted up her feet, the water draining off them. ‘My God, this is mighty, it really is.’ She began drying her feet with a towel.
‘Maureen, can you fix this?’ Rosie handed her the broken cup and Maureen took it into her lap.
‘Your mother’s special Belleek.’ She examined the handle, placing it against the cup, seeing how clean the break was. ‘I’ll give it a go,’ she said. ‘I’ve repaired worse. How did it break?’
‘I dropped it in the garden.’
Maureen didn’t say a word, just pursed her lips. ‘I’m going to get you one of those plastic cups that people have permanently glued to their lips these days. Honestly, why do people need to drink coffee while they’re walking? I don’t know why people don’t just have coffee on a drip, and drag it around after them.’
‘I was just sitting in the garden, like a normal person,’ insisted Rosie. ‘I was not inhaling coffee. Anyway, it was tea.’
