‘Yes, Lucinda,’ said Teddy, giving Pedro a look. ‘As long as that little fella doesn’t go for my fingers as I am changing the gears. Don’t want us to end up in the sea. We’ve all had enough adventures for one day.’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Lucinda, sweetly. ‘Little Pedro only bites people he doesn’t like.’ She glanced at Rosie. ‘He doesn’t mind you. As long as you don’t crunch the gears or make any sudden movements.’
Teddy nodded at her and walked off towards the garage, where his old Volvo was kept, while Lucinda turned once more to Patrick.
‘Well, thank you again. I don’t remember us meeting before. I don’t suppose we’ll meet again, but this one has been fortuitous.’ She gave her cheekbone smile to Patrick and dashed off to catch up with Teddy. Pedro gave one last snap and they were gone.
Patrick turned to Rosie. ‘She’s right, I suppose. Maybe she did do us a favour.’
‘Maybe.’ Rosie felt utterly downcast. So this was it. He now was even grateful to Lucinda for splitting them up. He didn’t care at all. The previous night when he had asked her to go away with him seemed like a long time ago, how quickly things changed.
‘It’s time for me to go. I want to see my brother, talk to my new sister-in-law, have a couple of drinks and then leave Ireland.’ He wasn’t even smiling. ‘Good luck, Rosie. Good to see you again.’
‘You too.’
He turned to go and for a moment Rosie watched him and she knew that this was most probably the last time she would ever see him. They’d never run into each other again, they’d never stay friends, even kind-of sort-of friends. This was it. It was over. Finally. She was never going to be brave again. Rosie went straight to her cottage and locked the door behind her. So it was over. The end. That was it. And she began to cry.
SUNDAY 29 JULY
45
ROSIE
Rosie had barely slept and in the cold light of the morning, instead of leaving the cottage and drinking her coffee outside, she stayed inside, the blinds down. She wouldn’t be needed in the hotel because Grace was there to see everyone off and to say goodbye, so Rosie stayed at home, her phone switched off.
So this is it, she thought,this is my life for the rest of my days. Soon it will be another ten years and another and another. If I’m lucky. And I will grow old here, in this beautiful place, where I’ve always been.She was just like Rapunzel. Except her hair wasn’t even that good.
The guests would be finishing breakfast now, chatting and laughing, checking out, getting on the road back to their lives and facing into another working week. Rosie hadn’t even gone on holiday for years. Taking over the hotel had been her destiny, she had thought. But it wasn’t. It was her mother’s dream. She couldn’t bear to let it fade away. She had nothing, really. She had hidden herself away, behind these walls, scared of the outside world. While she was in here, other people were having lives. Nessa was married with two children, Teddy had his garden, Grace was dating and relishing her role in the hotel. Bertie was off to Indonesia for his orchid trip. Maureen had a whole other life with her sea swimming tribe, her five children and all those grandchildren. Seán and Niamh were excited about this life they were about to have.
In comparison, she had so little. And worse, she hadn’t trusted anyone with the hotel. She had kept squirrelling all the responsibility away for herself, as if she was so special. She wasn’t. And Grace and Nessa both had brilliant ideas, they were full of them and they were enthusiastic and hard-working and this wedding had been such a success, it really had, because of them.
And she’d realised that the hotel wasn’t enough. She wanted more from life. To spread her wings and travel. She wanted adventure and excitement. She wanted a chance. She’d been scared to leave these walls, to venture much further from the hotel. It had suited her and she had spent years telling people that this was what she wanted, to carry on her mother’s passion. Except she had forgotten to have one of her own. And she wasn’t sure if she was capable of having her own. Her future wasn’t bright or glittering. She had nothing.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She nearly dropped the milk. Someone was knocking on the door.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
‘Rosie?’
It was Bertie. Oh God. The hotel had burned down. A guest had fallen down the steps to the lawn. Someone had choked on a peanut in the bar.
‘Rosie?’ He spoke gently, without urgency. Perhaps it wasn’t an emergency.
She had to open the door.
‘I found you,’ he said.
‘Why were you looking for me?’
‘I met Mr Power this morning. He told me he was leaving later today and I wondered how you were.’ He smiled. ‘Perhaps you are perfectly all right, but I wanted to make sure.’
Bertie didn’t often refer to her private life but of course he would be thinking about Patrick, knowing how their story had begun. ‘Would you like to come in?’
He nodded. ‘I would. I very much would. Have to rest the old leg. It’s a bit wobbly. I was worried about my trip to Indonesia, you know my “in the footsteps of the orchid hunters” trip? Well, I called them and said I have a dodgy leg and all that and the lovely man on the phone said he would personally make sure that I would be all right. He said he would carry me on his back if needs must…’ Bertie laughed for a moment and then sighed, almost dreamily. ‘He owns the travel company. Seems like a lovely man. Barry Desmond. Lives in Delgany, so just down the road. Has quite an impressive orchid collection himself. His variegated phalaenopsis has come into flower he was saying.’ He looked around. ‘Why are we sitting in the dark?’
‘I wanted to be alone.’
