‘Ah, a lonely heart,’ said Lucinda. ‘Perhaps, being on a farm is lonely. I have heard so many stories about farmers who can’t find love. And all they need is a good hose down. Although…’ She looked Patrick up and down. ‘You’ve scrubbed up nicely.’
She was just as snobbish as she ever was, thought Patrick.
He and Seán locked eyes. Patrick glanced around, looking for an escape.
Lucinda turned to Sandra. ‘Loneliness is a curse, isn’t it, Sandra? I am sure you never get lonely, with all these men in your life…’
‘Well…’ Sandra looked embarrassed. ‘It’s not quite like that…’
‘I am not a lonely person, either,’ said Lucinda. ‘For one thing, I have my little Pedro…’
Brian reached out to stroke the dog’s head, but Pedro twisted himself up, chomping at the air.
‘He’s a frisky little fella, isn’t he?’ said Brian, withdrawing his hand.
‘Pedro is one of life’s happy souls,’ said Lucinda. ‘He’s out there, living life to the full. There’s a little bench just off the road to the beach, overlooking the sea, and we often go there and contemplate the world. It’s very healing, isn’t it, Pedro?’ She kissed his head.
‘There you are!’ It was Laurence who was now elbowing his way into the centre of the group. ‘Father of the groom?’ He pumped Brian’s hand. ‘Glad you could make it. My own father was late to my wedding. Caught in some kind of aeronautical strike at Faro on his way back from a golf holiday. Well, that was his story, anyway.’ He looked glazed, his eyes bloodshot. ‘I’ve had too much to drink already but…’ His eye was caught by some of Seán and Niamh’s friends who were carrying bottles of Prosecco out to the terrace. ‘…I am planning on having more!’ The other guests cheered loudly. ‘My wife is going to be so angry with me,’ Laurence grinned, ‘but I’m having far too much fun.’
Patrick couldn’t help himself, feeling a fury on behalf of Rosie and the twins. ‘You really should go home.’
‘But then I’d miss all the fun,’ boomed Laurence. ‘And Seán and Niamh don’t mind, do you?’
‘Of course not,’ they mumbled.
‘I feel like I’m on holiday,’ said Laurence. ‘But…’ He looked at Patrick. ‘Maybe I should check in with the gang. Have a quick nap and return for more merriment in a little while.’ He handed Lucinda his glass. ‘Hold this, Luce,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back soon.’
Poor Rosie. Why was she married to this awful man? It really didn’t make sense.
‘I’d better go and have a shower,’ Patrick said, edging away.
‘We’ll see you later in the bar,’ said Niamh. ‘Drinks at 7p.m. and then dinner at 8p.m. You can meet my parents, they’re on their way.’
‘Patrick, wait for me…’ It was Kate, hurrying to keep up with him as he walked out of the lounge and towards the stairs. ‘Well done for reminding Laurence about his responsibilities,’ she said. ‘The man is acting like it’s his own wedding.’
‘I’m amazed he ever had his own,’ said Patrick.
‘Exactly. Who would marry him?’ Kate laughed, falling into step with him. ‘I’ve already had too much to drink. I think we were all overexcited after the beach barbecue.’ She laughed, as they ascended the stairs to the bedrooms. ‘Did you see that woman, what’s her name? The owner or whoever she is? Not Grace.’
‘Rosie.’
‘Rosie! That’s it! What was she doing with the barbecue?’ She laughed to herself. ‘What a klutz.’
He was already feeling irritated by his father, Lucinda and Laurence, and this comment was enough to almost push him off the edge. But he kept his voice steady.
‘I think she had it under control,’ he said. Kate’s room was three doors down from his and they stopped outside hers.
‘Today was fun, wasn’t it?’
He nodded, realising that she wasn’t to blame for his irritation and that she was doing her best for the wedding. ‘You were really impressive when you pulled Laurence’s arm.’
‘Yeah, well…’ She shrugged. ‘All in a day’s work. He was holding it in a strange way. I’d already noticed he was hunched over it and I just had to pop it back in…’ And then Kate leaned forward, her mouth aiming at his, a slightly alarming, intense expression in her eyes, which was either homicidal or romantic, he couldn’t quite tell. And then at the last moment, she changed her mind, her head completing a smooth parabola, and her lips landed on his shoulder. ‘Oh, Patrick,’ she said, ‘you’re so…’ She paused. ‘Enigmatic. Unknowable. Silent.’
‘Oh God,’ he said, trying to laugh it off. ‘None of them sound complimentary.’
Kate shrugged. ‘I mean, you’re not entirely silent. Just not overly talkative. Or loud. Or one of those men who beat their chests and tell you how amazing they are and never ask a single question. You’re not like that.’
‘Thank you. I think.’
