‘Would you ever think about coming home, for good?’
Patrick shook his head. ‘It’s going well over there. We’re thinking of opening up a new restaurant and a small bar, just waiting to hear about finance… things are happening. So where are we going?’ he said. ‘Where’s the wedding? You didn’t send me an invitation.’
Seán smiled at him. ‘I knew you’d be here so we didn’t bother. We’re getting married where I proposed. Anyway, Niamh had already got you down as a yes…’ He paused. ‘You could have brought someone. A plus-one? No? Niamh is determined to find you someone nice here this weekend. Someone who might entice you back to Ireland. I don’t want my brother on the other side of the Atlantic…’
Patrick laughed. ‘The day I allow my little brother to set me up is the day when hell freezes over or when Mayo lift the cup.’
He didn’t want to be introduced to any of Niamh’s friends. He was sure they would be as nice as Niamh was but his only plan was to be there for Seán, fly back to Boston and pick up his life again. His head was full enough.
5
ROSIE
Nessa and her eight-year-old twins had arrived in the hotel’s office, a small room which was once a boot room and now had two desks and an armchair squashed in and a row of filing cabinets, old black-and-white photographs of the house in its prime, the stonework pristine, the trees barely grown. Nessa had what she called her ‘cell’, which was a windowless cupboard-office under her stairs at home, and so getting out of the cell and stretching her legs was part of her day.
It was the summer holidays and the twins, Isabelle and Killian, had been coming in and out of the hedge to the hotel from their home on the golf course for weeks now. Not that anyone minded as the twins were a pleasure and were happy wandering in the garden, helping their grandfather with the tomatoes in the greenhouse or picking sweet pea, or assisting Bertie in the breakfast room, laying tables and polishing glasses. Grace might set them crayoning in the office, or Maureen would set them to work, sweeping if they were tall enough, or dusting low shelves if they weren’t.
The children were beelining for Rosie now and Isabelle kissed her ear as Killian wound his small arms around her neck. ‘Hello, Rosie,’ he said. ‘You’re to look after us.’
The twins looked the same, both with dark hair and heavy fringes and both had a constellation of freckles across their button noses. They were the other’s best friend and in constant motion. Even when they slept over in Rosie’s cottage, they constantly wriggled while asleep.
‘Rosie, you don’t mind, do you?’ asked Nessa. ‘Only I just need someone to keep a half-eye on them. Dad will do it, if you’re busy. He probably needs help weeding.’
‘We don’t need actual minding,’ said Isabelle. ‘Now we’re eight and a half.’
‘No, we mind ourselves.’ Killian grinned. ‘So you don’t have to do anything. Just half an eye. Not a whole one.’
‘Just make sure we don’t play with knives,’ said Isabelle.
‘Or drink anything poisonous,’ said Killian.
‘Exactly,’ said Nessa. ‘Just keep them alive. Is that okay?’
‘Of course.’
Nessa was wearing shorts and a T-shirt saying ‘Vitamin Sea’, a towel poking out of her straw tote. ‘I’m late for my sea swim and Siofra says I have to join them. Everyone is down there. It’s like the way the Island pub used to be on a Saturday night, remember? You’d meet everyone you know. Not that I have been in a pub for a very long time. What is a pub anyway?’
‘You’re asking me?’ said Rosie.
‘A pub is a place where Daddy goes,’ said Killian. ‘You can drink fizzy drinks and eat crisps and watch sport.’
‘There you go,’ said Nessa. ‘My children are already corrupted.’
‘You like crisps and fizzy drinks too,’ said Isabelle.
‘True. I like my fizzy drinks in a large bottle with a cork that you have to pop,’ said Nessa. ‘And Siofra wants me to go on a women-only yoga and swimming retreat in County Clare next month. Apparently it’s amazing. You do yoga by moonlight and it’s all bra-burning and howling and things like that. I just have to go. I need to howl, I really do. I’ve spent the morning doing the bookkeeping for the hotel. It all looks fine. But I haven’t got a full picture yet. I’ll let you know when I do.’ She quickly kissed the twins’ heads in turn. ‘Love you. Now be good for Rosie, okay? No running in the hotel, no?—’
‘…Shouting, no pulling the cushions off the sofa, no nonsense and only use our indoor voices,’ the twins said in unison, as they reached for the pot of colouring pencils kept purely for them and their pile of scrap paper.
‘Excellent,’ said Nessa, flashing a grin at Rosie. ‘Now are you sure you don’t mind me dumping my kids on you?’
The twins looked up to see what Rosie’s reaction would be.
‘I love it,’ Rosie said. ‘They make everything better.’
The twins both smiled to themselves as they resumed their colouring. They brought a level of chaos and unpredictability to proceedings, but Rosie adored them so much she had long made an exception for them. She loved them being around the hotel or, if she had time, she brought them swimming at the local bathing spot, the Forty Foot, and for a post-dip ice cream.
Rosie walked Nessa out and they passed through the lounge, where the bride-to-be and Kate were relaxing, talking in low voices on one of the sofas, sipping the mint water.
