Sandra smiled at her. ‘Well, I wish you all the very best.’
Patrick turned to Sandra, holding out his hand. ‘Hello, Sandra.’
‘Hello, Patrick. Good to see you again.’ She shouldn’t have got involved with their father while he was still living in the family home. God, it had been so complicated. But there was something heartbreaking about her, despite what she’d done.
Sandra looked tired, he thought, and there was something about her which always tugged at his heartstrings. She’d had an affair with his father, which he’d once thought was unforgivable, but he’d still been in school when all that happened. Now he couldn’t help but wonder if it was all quite so black and white. Sandra had always seemed a little timid, not the femme fatale you might imagine. She was pale and thin, and wearing a floral dress which looked a little faded. For the first time in his life, he hoped she was all right. She didn’t look as though she was.
‘Long drive up from Midleton?’ Patrick asked her.
Sandra nodded. ‘Four hours. We took it slowly. Didn’t go too fast. And we missed the match traffic at least.’
‘You missed the barbecue on the beach,’ said Niamh, ‘but there’s dinner tonight on the terrace and then a garden picnic tomorrow and then the rehearsal dinner.’
‘Jaysus, we haven’t even got to the wedding yet,’ said Brian. ‘Do you want to tire everyone out before the ceremony?’ He looked around again to see if anyone was laughing.
‘Well, we wanted to make an event of it,’ explained Niamh. ‘We’ve got guests arriving from all over the world.’ She smiled at Patrick.
‘Is Paddy-Joe doing the milking?’ asked Seán to his father.
His father turned to him, a face on him which showed that his son was either stupid or mad. ‘Sure, I sold the cows last year,’ he said. ‘Don’t farm any longer. Life of leisure now.’
‘Who’d you sell them to?’
That look again. ‘Paddy-Joe, of course. Who’d you think’d take them? Paddy-Joe’s got the grandchildren in helping him. I had no one and nobody.’ He spoke angrily, a glare in his eyes. That was their father all over, resentful and blaming everyone for supposed slights.
Sandra looked uncomfortable as though she would rather be anywhere than with him.
‘Well, hello there! If it isn’t Sandra, my old pal from Doobs!’ It was Rosie’s aunt Lucinda, a small, angry, rodenty dog under her arm. ‘What are you doing here?’ She proffered her lips in Sandra’s vague direction, making little puckering sounds.
‘I’m here for Seán’s wedding,’ said Sandra, a little diffidently. ‘He’s Brian’s boy. Brian is my partner.’
‘Well, hello, Brian,’ said Lucinda, turning to the man beside Sandra. ‘I’m Sandra’s old pal from Dubai. We were both working out there years ago.’ She shook his hand. ‘You’re so welcome to Cliff Top. It’s my family’s hotel. My dear, departed sister owned it and made it what it is. I think it’s called a boutique hotel, these days. But my niece is now in charge and she likes to pick my brains for ideas, design, hospitality, food, that kind of thing.’ She smiled at them.
‘And this is Seán,’ said Sandra, as Lucinda shook his hand.
‘Well, you’re very handsome, aren’t you? Rugged. But refined. It’s a nice mix.’ She turned to Patrick. ‘And you are?’
She obviously had no idea who he was.
‘Patrick,’ he said. ‘Brother of the groom.’
‘Well, isn’t that lovely. And what is your line of work?’
‘Dairy farmers,’ said Patrick, quickly. ‘We work with cows, milk them, hose them down, we’re all covered in mud most of the time.’
Seán laughed, as though he had guessed what Patrick was doing.
Lucinda’s face froze for a moment. ‘Farming? Cows?’
‘You know, those big four-legged creatures?’ said Patrick. ‘Produce milk.’
‘Well, I’m a big fan of milk,’ said Lucinda, her conversational abilities drying up. ‘Although I do like a squeeze of lemon in my tea these days.’ Her eyes rested on Patrick. ‘Have we met? I could swear I’ve seen you before? Were you ever in Dubai?’
He shook his head. ‘Not Dubai, no. I live in Boston.’
‘Ah, Boston. I know the O’Briens? Or the Fitzmaurices? Or the Kilcullens? No? None of them? And so you’re here for your brother’s wedding? Are you already married?’
‘He’s unmarried,’ said Niamh, laughing. ‘We’re trying to find him someone.’
