Page 18 of Coming Home to Inishbeg Cove

‘Op, Mama,’ Lucy cried, pushing my hand away from where I was colouring alongside her.

‘She’s bossy,’ I said, deliberately avoiding his question. Was he just being nosy, I wondered, or did he suspect that there was something wrong between Joe and me?

‘She reminds me of someone,’ Tadgh said playfully.

Our food arrived, and I tucked into the seasoned sea bream served with baby potatoes and asparagus. The food was fresh, wholesome and simply presented. There were no fancy accompaniments or garnishes. I was genuinely impressed. Joe had an obsession with being seen in the latest eateries. If they had won an award, he would want to visit, but I could see that Tadgh’s style was to let the food do the talking.

‘This is so good, Tadgh. You’ll have the Michelin guide out here soon.’

‘They came a couple of years ago, actually, but I was furious.’

‘Why on earth would you turn down such a prestigious award?’ I was flummoxed.

‘Ah, you know I hate all that pretentious nonsense,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I don’t want people to come here because they read about it in a guide and think they should eat here. I want people to come by word of mouth, on the recommendation of a friend.’

I could see the passion in his eyes as he talked about his food, and I loved how animated he had become.

‘This is yummy,’ Lucy said, smacking her lips as she devoured another fish bite.

‘So, did you meet anyone else?’ I dared to ask, turning the tables on him, feeling emboldened by the wine.

‘After you, you mean?’ he said, a glint in his eye. I studied the table linen for a moment before looking back up at him again. He shook his head. ‘I was seeing a French girl for a few years – she worked here as a waitress, but it didn’t work out between us.’ He looked mournful, and I felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy for this girl, who he clearly had strong feelings for.

We chatted some more until Tadgh saw that his waiters were overstretched as more diners entered the restaurant. ‘I’d better give them a hand,’ he said, getting up to help clear off some tables.

‘I should probably bring Lucy home anyway,’ I said. Lucy was beginning to look restless, and I knew I was on borrowed time.

‘Would you like to go for a drink one night? The Anchor has a céilí every Friday. It’s always a good laugh.’

I couldn’t believe céilí night still happened. I felt as if I had stepped back in time. When I was a child, Mam and Dad would get dressed up in their best clothes and head off to the céilí, leaving me to be looked after by my grandparents. They lived for the night but that had been nearly thirty years ago – had nothing changed since then? My face must have shown my surprise because he added, ‘Just for old times’ sake, before you go back to Dublin?’

Did he mean a drink or a drink drink?

‘Well, I can’t with Lucy…’ I began, although I knew Mam and Dad would have no problem babysitting her, especially if I was meeting Tadgh.

He shrugged. ‘No worries. Maybe another time.’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ I said, then we said an awkward goodbye to one another.

As Lucy and I walked back home along the cliff path, she swung out of my hand, singing ‘Ten Green Bottles’ at the top of her voice. Despite my earlier reservations, I had to admit I had enjoyed the afternoon. The time had flown past, and it hadn’t been as awkward as I had feared, but Tadgh’s suggestion that we should go for a drink had caught me off guard. Maybe I was just overthinking things, but he had unsettled me. There was too much water under the bridge for us. Did he mean a friendly drink to catch up on old times, or was it something more? Or, maybe I was reading too much into it… Anyway, I told myself, either way it would be pointless to meet him because I wouldn’t be staying in the village for much longer.