Chapter 1
‘YOU CAN COME BACK ANYTIME,’ HER MOTHER SAID at the station. ‘Your old room will always be there.’
Lydia gave an inner sigh. ‘Mum, I’m moving to make a life in the west, remember? In a few months I’ll be getting married. It’s not a trial run.’
Patience, she told herself. They meant well. She was their only child: of course they were protective of her – but Lord, when would they realise that she wasn’t a child any longer? She’d turned thirty-two a few weeks ago, and hadn’t needed their protection for years.
She remembered telling them that she’d decided to do a yoga teacher training course after Leaving Cert.
Granted, she’d been about fifteen at the time, with another three years of secondary school ahead of her, so they could still play the adult card – but honestly, the way they’d gone on, the raft of objections they’d raised, you’d think she’d announced that she was planning to embark on a life of crime.
And even when she’d stuck to her guns and got her certification, and landed a permanent job in a prestigious Dublin yoga studio not long after, she’d sensed their faint but enduring disappointment that she hadn’t opted to study medicine like them.
Having two doctors as parents was a pretty hard act to follow.
And here they were again, banging the familiar are-you-sure-you-know-what-you’re-doing drum into their child’s thirty-two-year-old ears.
In the year and a half since Lydia had told them she was going to marry Damien, and all through everything that had followed – the big house bought, both Lydia and Damien’s properties sold – they’d missed no opportunity to impress on her that she could still change course.
Why couldn’t Damien come to Dublin and move in with Lydia while they looked around for something bigger?
they’d asked. The city was full of restaurants, he’d have a job before he’d unpacked, and he could work towards opening his own place in time.
She’d heard it all – and so had he, whenever he was around.
He’d done his best to change their minds, telling them what a special property he and Lydia had found in Chance House, and how after seventeen years of working for someone else he was more than ready to go his own way, something that would take him another seventeen years to afford in Dublin.
We’ll visit often, he’d promised them, and there’ll always be a room for you in Chance House, but Lydia could see that they were just as set on their course as she and Damien were on theirs.
When they saw the finished house, she told herself, when it was all done up and looking splendid, they’d be forced to love it, and to be happy for Lydia.
Her mother gathered her coat more tightly around her. It was the last day of the coldest November in years, a month of sleety showers and biting wind, and frozen fingers and toes. ‘We’re just concerned for you, Lydia. We can’t help it.’
‘I’m following my heart, Mum. You can’t object to that.’
‘You’re taking a huge risk.’
‘And it’s a risk Damien and I are happy to take.’ How many more times would she have to say it?
Her mother’s mouth tightened at the mention of his name.
They’d always been fond of him, but now he was the cause of their daughter selling her home and moving so far away from them.
The irony wasn’t lost on her. Kathleen had been afraid Lydia would steal Damien from her, but now the reverse was happening, and her parents were the resentful ones.
At least they’d remained on good terms with their future son-in-law, for which she was grateful.
People passed by, gloved and scarved and wheeling suitcases. ‘I’d better get on,’ Lydia said. ‘Thanks for putting me up for the last few weeks.’
Happily, her apartment had sold for considerably more than she’d envisaged, so after repaying her mortgage there was still plenty left.
She’d tried to return the deposit her parents had given her but they’d told her to hang on to it, which was decent of them (although she couldn’t help feeling that it was more babying).
In any event, she had funds in the bank to cover Brendan’s bill for the renovations, with a bit extra to add to her own savings, so that was all good.
Giving up work, her last class just two days ago, had been a wrench. There’ll always be a job here for you, her boss had promised – was he worried too that everything would go wrong, and she’d come crawling back?
Her mother reached out to hug her. ‘Mind yourself, love. We’ll see you at Christmas.’
‘Bye, Mum.’
In truth, Lydia was regretting her promise to return to them for Christmas Day: she’d far rather be spending it with Damien.
Then again, it would be her last Christmas as a single woman, and her last spent without him.
In the summer they’d finally marry – and this time next year they’d be looking forward to their first Christmas together in Chance House.
They might even start a tradition of hosting both families – no point in marrying a chef if you couldn’t make use of him now and again, and the big house would provide the perfect location for a large family gathering.
In another year, with the destination restaurant hopefully well underway, and her yoga studio up and running, Lydia’s parents would see that it had all worked out, and Kathleen might finally have warmed to her second daughter-in-law.
As the train left the station and began to gather speed, she watched the familiar Dublin suburbs flash past the window, and took stock.
Excited as she was to be embarking on what still felt like a wonderful adventure, she did have some qualms. Even though she’d travelled to the village lots of times, she still knew virtually nobody outside Damien’s family.
Her interactions with his friends had been limited to the occasional drink in a noisy pub, or a chance meeting on one of the local beaches, and she couldn’t now recall a single name she’d heard.
She wondered how it would be, with Damien working right up to Christmas Eve – they’d agreed that he was going to take all the shifts he was offered between now and when the house was finished in May or June – and Lydia left to her own devices.
You could look for part-time shop work, he’d said. Not in the village – they couldn’t really give you a job over a local person, not until you’ve been here a while and got to know everyone. I mean in the town – there’s a bus from the village every morning.
She wasn’t sure what she thought about that.
She’d never worked in a shop, never had a summer job as a teen – she and her friends had been more interested in going into the city centre, or hanging around the tennis club – but she would have time to fill, and earning a bit couldn’t hurt.
Some day next week she’d take a walk around the town, see what businesses were there.
A bakery might be nice, or a boutique, or maybe a bookshop.
And the good thing about getting a job was that she’d be meeting people, and the more people she got to know, the more opportunities she’d have to sound them out about the yoga classes at Chance House – although she wasn’t sure she’d pick up many students from the town.
Marian had told her there was no yoga studio there, but would they drive half an hour for an hour-long class?
Damien still maintained she had nothing to worry about. There’ll be lots of interest, he’d said, even in the village alone. You’ll be turning them away. Time would tell if he was right about that.
But she was looking forward to seeing Chance House again.
She hadn’t travelled west since Damien’s house sale had closed just before last Christmas, and he’d moved back in with his parents.
She couldn’t imagine Kathleen being too impressed if Lydia had landed on her doorstep with her weekend bag, so Damien had done all the travelling, and she’d seen none of the work so far.
Don’t send me photos, she’d said. I don’t want to look at it on a screen. I want to wait till I can see the real thing.
What about our apartment?
Not even that.
The architect Brendan found had drawn up a plan for the renovations that had set aside roughly a third of the ground floor to make a two-bedroom apartment for them.
The yoga studio would be close by, just off the main entrance hall, and the rest of the downstairs space would be taken up with the restaurant.
She’d seen the plans, but you couldn’t get a proper sense of it from drawings on a page, however detailed.
In her head, Chance House was still the ruin they’d viewed with Deborah the estate agent, picking their way around gaps in the floorboards, seeing – or trying not to see – enormous black patches on the walls, and a fossilised bird in one of the huge fireplaces.
They’d been denied access to the upper floor due to the uncertain condition of the staircase.
I couldn’t have it on my conscience, Deborah had said, if one of you fell and broke your neck.
I chanced going up myself when I came to assess it, so I can tell you it’s got eight sizeable bedrooms and one bathroom, and they’re in the same condition as this level.
On the plus side, you’d definitely qualify for a grant to do it up.
That viewing had brought home to them just how much work was involved, but it hadn’t scared them off.
They’d taken Brendan to view it, and a light had appeared in his eyes that Lydia hadn’t seen before.
I can bring it back, he’d said. Take a good while, mind you, and they’d told him he was hired if they got it.
They’d put in a bid that was slightly under the asking price, and Damien had put his own house on the market. They’d held their breath for three weeks, four weeks, five weeks – and finally Deborah had rung with the news that their bid had been accepted.