She screamed again. ‘PEDRO!’
Rosie and Grace pulled on Patrick, getting him over the top of the cliff, and for a second the three of them collapsed in a heap, while Lucinda fussed over Pedro, holding him in her arms.
‘Oh, you’ve been such a brave little man. You have to promise Mummy you will never, ever, ever do that again. I’m going to have to have you on a lead at all times and I know you hate your lead, but if you insist on falling over cliffs, then you will have to.’
Patrick had got to his feet, and Lucinda broke away from fussing over Pedro to gaze at him, eyes shining.
‘What a hero you are! That was an act of bravery, I can tell you.’ She looked dazed for a moment, staring at Patrick, giving him a quick once-over, his shorts, his loose shirt open at the neck, his long, tawny, muscular legs.
Patrick nodded, diffidently. ‘It had to be done. We couldn’t let the little dog fall.’ He went to scratch Pedro on the head, but Pedro was unsurprisingly ungrateful, snarling and snapping.
‘He’s a naughty little boy,’ said Lucinda, with a laugh. ‘Probably thinks you’re going to run off with me.’ She laughed.
Patrick made no comment.
‘We’ve only got fifteen minutes before the wedding,’ said Grace.
Patrick turned to Rosie. ‘I’ve got to go…’ And off he went, jogging across the grass, back to the hotel.
‘We’ve got to go as well,’ said Grace. ‘I’d better check on the bridal party and make sure they are ready. And that the musicians are there and everything. See you both later.’
Lucinda was all high-cheeked smiles. ‘That handsome man,’ she said. ‘And so charming. How old would you say he is? I must talk to him at the wedding and find out more about him.’ She mused for a moment. ‘I was chatting to his father last night… oh, he was very nice. Full of stories. You’d almost take them to be men of an entirely different class. They can hold their own in any company, I would say.’
Rosie could take no more of this. ‘Lucinda, please shut up.’
Lucinda’s mouth fell open. ‘Rosie, what did you say?’
‘I said, shut. Up. You met Patrick, years ago, when I was going out with him…’
‘You? Going out with him? But…’ Lucinda looked confused. ‘But his father… well… but… Are you sure?’
‘Quite sure. And you told him he wasn’t good enough for me. You told me I could do better. You wanted me to marry Laurence’s brother, awful Benji!’
Lucinda was taking all this in. ‘Me? I said all that? Are you confusing me with someone else?’
Rosie turned on her, suddenly furious. ‘No. No, I’m not. And I have to go back to work and make sure this wedding is magical. But, so you know, your meddling had a big effect on my life. And his. And now he’s leaving again tomorrow evening and I will never see him again.’ She could feel her throat catch, but she carried on. No way was she going to cry in front of Lucinda. ‘And it would really help, Lucinda, if you stayed away from the wedding and let us get on with work. And you hanging around the hotel is a complete and utter hindrance… you’ve brought a toxicity to the place, and you just wanted to control things because why? You were jealous? Didn’t like having any power and by trying to control the lives of me and Nessa, it made you feel more powerful? So, yes, you need to shut up.’
‘But some guests enjoy my company,’ said Lucinda.
‘Which ones?’ said Rosie. ‘Which ones, because you did not receive an invitation and I’ve had two family members who seem hell-bent on ruining everything. Perhaps you hate the attention being on anyone else.’
Pedro was glaring at Rosie with a look of complete hatred. As was his owner. The two were very alike. From somewhere up by the hotel, she could hear the music beginning, the strains of a fiddle and a bodhrán, playing some Irish tune.
‘Your mother, my dear, departed sister, wouldn’t appreciate you talking to me like that,’ said Lucinda, icily. ‘She would have been extremely cross with you.’
‘You two weren’t that close,’ said Rosie. ‘You had nothing in common. And please don’t mention her again to me because you took my mother’s memory to come into our lives and use us.’
Lucinda glowered at her, matched by Pedro’s utter dislike.
‘I’ve got to go,’ said Rosie, leaving Lucinda and Pedro behind. Rosie had given her so much power over the whole family, allowing her to influence them, to use them, to make Sandycove her home, and really, what had Lucinda given back?
43
PATRICK
The day was getting hotter, the sun scalding the sky, the guests clutching their water bottles, glad of the shade to the sail canopy. Patrick stood at the top of the altar with Seán. The guests had taken their seats on the be-bowed and beribboned chairs, the musicians were playing ‘Danny Boy’ and standing beside them was the celebrant, a small woman who told them that her day job was working as an IT help-desk manager for a large company in the city centre. ‘It’s a nightmare,’ she’d said to Patrick and Seán, when they were chatting before the ceremony. ‘I should have “turn it off and turn it on again” tattooed on my forehead.’
Patrick had never had a quicker shower or shave. He wasn’t sure if he had two black socks on or one black and one navy, but he was here, present and practically correct, standing beside his younger brother. He was feeling surprisingly emotional today, but then he’d been feeling on the emotional edge since the flight from Boston when he had to have the whiskey to calm his nerves. It had been an intense few days. He thought of Rosie and what he could say to her. He had thought he was over her, that the last summer they had spent together was just one of those memories you file away, only to be taken out again when you are old and grey, and you remember that beautiful young woman who set you on fire. Except he still felt the same.
