Page 21 of Coming Home to Inishbeg Cove

It irked me that everyone else seemed to think they knew what was best for me.

‘But I’ll be going back to Dublin soon!’ I protested.

‘Will you?’ She turned around and looked steadily at me.

‘Of course I will,’ I said, trying to sound sure of myself but failing miserably.

‘Look, pet,’ she said kindly. ‘I’m not having a go at you ... but do you think it might be time to accept that your marriage is over?’

I felt my bravado start to wobble in the face of her softness.

‘Surely, Joe would have come down here by now if he was missing ye?’ she continued. ‘And I can’t for the life of me understand how he can let that little girl go without giving her a second thought.’ She shook her head.

That stung. She could say whatever she liked about Joe’s feelings for me, but it hurt when she insinuated that he didn’t care for our daughter.

‘For your information, Joe has been phoning to chat to Lucy. Of course he cares about his child. But he isn’t like everyone else; he’s going through a really hard time. When he’s caught up in his work, he can be ... well ... really intense. I know him. He just needs some time and space to get himself together and we’ll be okay. I’m sure of it.’ Why did I always feel the need to defend him? She had hit a nerve – I had asked myself the same questions. I blinked quickly to stop the tears from falling.

She came over to the table, placed her hand over mine and gave it a squeeze. ‘We love you, Penny,’ she said. ‘We just want you to be happy.’

Instantly I felt guilty for snapping at her. To my parents, I was still their little girl. I knew I would feel the same if Lucy were in my shoes in the future. My parents just wanted to protect me from more heartbreak, but I was an adult and I had to live my own life, even if it ended in pain.

∞∞∞

The next day, much to my disbelief, I found myself standing in Ruairí’s kitchen hanging a striped apron around my neck. He had waved cheerily as I entered the café, clearly expecting me. I was fuming as I realised that Mam had obviously told him I would do the job without checking with me first.

I didn’t know Ruairí well; he wasn’t from the village. He was what the older people referred to as a ‘blow in’. He had a frizzy ginger beard and a mass of red hair that he tried to tame into a bun.

He quickly explained how to use the sandwich maker, what the different settings on the coffee machine meant, and how I should grind the beans. He talked me through the menu and how to make the various sandwiches, wraps and panini until my head was spinning. Then he handed me a cloth and bottle of antibacterial spray and asked me to start by clearing some tables. As I went from table to table clearing disgusting, dirty plates and lipstick-stained mugs, I couldn’t help wondering how I had ended up wiping down tables in the café in Inishbeg Cove. If you had told me a month ago that I would be doing this, I would have laughed in your face – but in just a few weeks my life had become unrecognisable to me. I had received a few texts from friends of mine in Dublin checking in to see if I was okay and I had lied and said I was having a lovely time spending the summer with my parents. I couldn’t even begin to tell them the truth about my life; I knew they would never believe the transformation either.

‘Make sure you use the spray, Penny,’ Ruairí called to me, disturbing my thoughts. I grimaced a smile back at him and made an exaggerated show of spraying the table I was in the middle of cleaning.

The place was busy. There was a constant stream of people sipping coffee or friends meeting over tea and scones, and the café buzzed with the hum of their chatter. The sea swimmers were warming up over coffee. I cringed as a few people I recognised came in. There were people I’d gone to school with, friends of my parents, and other familiar faces. I was sure they were wondering why I was working in the café when I was supposed to be married to a hotshot artist in Dublin.

I didn’t have much time to dwell on it, as just then the lunchtime rush descended on the café. I was thrown in at the deep end: Ruairí put me in charge of the coffee machine while he made the sandwiches. I tried to remember the instructions for the different types of coffee, but I kept pressing the wrong buttons, causing the machine to hiss and splutter in protest. Ruairí was watching me over his shoulder, which just added to the pressure.

‘Double trouble!’ Ruairí shouted out behind me, and for a split second I wondered if it was another type of coffee that I was meant to know. I turned around to see he was talking to Sarah and Greg.

‘Congratulations,’ he continued.

‘News travels fast.’ They smiled adoringly at one another. They looked to be over the moon.

They ordered food then sat down at a table, chatting easily with one another. I couldn’t help watching them. There was something simple, wholesome, about their love. Heaviness filled my heart. I couldn’t imagine there was ever any drama in their relationship. Had Joe and I ever gazed so tenderly at each other? I realised with sudden clarity what it was about their relationship that intrigued me so much: it actually looked easy.

But I had no more time to analyse Sarah and Greg’s relationship as Ruairí barked coffee order after coffee order to me. As I frothed milk for lattes and ground beans for Americanos, I barely got a chance to look up, let alone draw breath, and when he told me that it was after two o’clock and my first shift was finished, I was shocked. Despite my initial misgivings, I had to admit that the two hours had flown past.

‘Thanks a million for today – you really dug me out of a hole,’ Ruairí said as I removed my apron and hung it up on the back of the kitchen door.

‘Don’t mention it,’ I said, slinging my handbag over my shoulder and heading for the door.

‘See you at the same time tomorrow?’

I stopped and turned around. ‘I don’t know if Mam told you, but I might not be here for much longer.’ It was only fair to let him know now so he couldn’t accuse me of leaving him in the lurch when I went back to Dublin.

‘Well, even if it’s just for a few days, I’m glad of the extra pair of hands,’ Ruairí said with a kind smile, his hazel eyes twinkling. ‘See you tomorrow, Penny.’