‘Mind ye self, yes? And come home and see us, right?’ Seán spoke urgently. ‘We miss you too much.Imiss you too much.’
They both had to stop speaking and the taxi pulled away and all Patrick could do was stare out of the window until he could trust himself to hold a normal conversation with the driver.
48
ROSIE
Rosie stood in reception, smiling and shaking hands and thanking the guests as they all began to check out and leave. Newly-weds Niamh and Seán were talking to Grace. Brian glowered in the corner, waiting for Teddy to pull up in the minibus to take a group of them to the station. Kate was on her phone, her suitcase at her feet. ‘Yes, sign me up,’ she was saying. ‘God, I need to do another ultramarathon. And the fact that it’s in the desert makes it even better.’
But Patrick was nowhere to be seen.
Niamh hugged Rosie. ‘We’ll be back for our anniversary,’ Niamh said, holding out her hand to catch Seán as he was moving past her, reeling him in. ‘We’ve loved it, haven’t we, Seán?’
He stopped and smiled at Rosie. ‘We’ve had the most wonderful time. Everything about it has been great. And the things we were most worried about were grand.’ His eyes flickered over to Brian.
Rosie nodded and smiled, smiled and nodded, all while trying to spy Patrick. Where was he?
Niamh was still talking, Seán had his arm around her and Rosie had given up even an attempt at listening. Finally, she could take it no longer, she put a hand on Niamh’s arm. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Patrick…?’
‘He left a couple of hours ago…’ Seán turned to Niamh. ‘What time did he say his plane was leaving? It’s one of those private things… how the other half live, eh?’
Niamh was trying to remember. ‘Two o’clock, was it? Something like that. They were meant to leave much later, but Kerry-Anne, she’s his business partner, apparently had to leave earlier and he said he was happy enough to go with her. Anyway, he promised he’d be back soon. We were trying to persuade him to come for Christmas, but he said he’s always working right up to the day.’
Seán nodded. ‘Why? Something wrong? Did he not pay his bill or something?’
He laughed but Rosie walked away. It was just after 12p.m. and the airport was miles away, on the other side of Dublin and there was always traffic on the route. It was ridiculous. She had missed him.
She walked briskly to the front desk. ‘Did anyone leave a letter for me? A note?’
The receptionist nodded. ‘Thought I saw something… one sec…’ She pulled out an envelope. ‘Here we go.’
Rosie took it, her hands trembling as she took out a letter. It was his handwriting.
Dear Rosie, thank you for the last few days. I return to Boston feeling very different to the man I was when I arrived. I know I was meant to meet you all those years ago, and I know I was meant to meet you this weekend. And perhaps we will meet again, along the road sometime. You have touched me, yet again. There is something about you which goes so deeply into me, and I doubt I will ever have that with anyone. You do something to me. Always have. Always will. Your beautiful face, the way you look at me, those eyes. I am determined not to forget them for as long as I can, I need something to sustain me. But I wish you all the love in the world and I hope you are happy and fulfilled. And I wish the same for me.
Patrick.
Grace took her arm. ‘Rosie? Everything okay?’
‘He’s gone…’ Rosie felt all the emotion in her throat. She could barely speak. ‘He’s gone. Again.’
‘Where?’
‘Airport. His flight leaves at two.’
‘Let’s go. Now.’ Grace grabbed Rosie’s hand and the two of them ran out of the hotel, weaving past the guests, past the minibus which Teddy was helping people on to, and to the garage. ‘I’ll drive,’ said Grace, racing for the driver’s side of the Land Rover. ‘You’re too overwrought!’
In they jumped, Grace revving life into the car, then they bunny-hopped along for a while until Grace managed to sort out what her feet were doing on the pedals and they shot forward, over the cattle grid, and roared onto the coast road.
The car was roasting and they rolled down their windows, air rushing into the car. ‘I don’t know if this is even a good idea,’ Rosie shouted to Grace.
‘You can decide that when we get there,’ Grace shouted back. They were on the motorway now, taking their place in the cars and trucks and lorries. ‘You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but let’s just get there. By the way, can’t you call him?’
‘I don’t have his number!’
In a previous existence, Grace must have been one of those American gumball rally drivers, because she overtook lorries at great speed. At one point, they cruised past a man in a sleek Mercedes and when he saw the old jalopy which was overtaking him, he made it his mission to get them back. But on they pressed, Grace’s eyes fixed on the road, with the focus of a fighter pilot, swooping in and out of the cars.
And then the turn-off for the airport. Grace indicated, slipping into the left-hand lane.
