Chapter 18
Chris grinned up at a slack-jawed Grace, dropping the handful of pebbles he’d been clutching. ‘If you’re wondering why it took me so long after I rang you to let you know I was down here, it was because those pebbles there took some finding. I got some from the pub car park in the end. I didn’t think your dad would appreciate me trying to get your attention with a rock, like.’
‘You’d be right there,’ Imogen said, jostling Shannon to see over Grace’s shoulders.
Grace elbowed them both, but like bad smells, they didn’t go away.
Chris, she registered, was clad in his customary black T-shirt and jeans, his hair mussed. Was she hallucinating? If so, then it was a mass hallucination, because Imogen and Shannon could definitely see him, too. To be sure she hadn’t fallen asleep and was now in the middle of a dream, Grace pinched the skin on the inside of her arm and closed her eyes. He was still there looking up at her with that infuriating grin when she opened them again.
‘Hi there.’ Chris looked past Grace to Imogen and Shannon, waving up. ‘Grace hasn’t introduced us properly. I know both of your faces right enough, but it’s been a while. I’m Chris Dorrance.’
The two women each held a hand up in greeting.
Shannon took charge of returning the introductions.
‘Nice to meet you properly, like,’ Chris replied. ‘I’ve seen youse both around, obviously.’
‘Chris, what are you doing here?’ Grace finally spluttered.
‘I need to speak with you, and I didn’t think it was wise to ask after you in the pub. I thought I’d let things settle with your dad.’
He’d made a good call not venturing inside the Shamrock, but still and all, Grace thought, slowly gathering her wits. ‘So you’re standing in the lane under my bedroom window?’
‘That I am.’ Those denim-blue eyes twinkled.
‘Could you not have sent a text, like, or told me you were here when we spoke?’
‘But if I’d done that, then I wouldn’t have got to see the look on your face when you came to the window.’ He flashed up another grin.
Her sisters laughed. ‘Fair play,’ one of them said.
Grace elbowed them both.
‘Ouch!’
‘How did you get here?’ It was a dumb question, but it felt like she’d rubbed a bottle with a genie trapped inside and wished him here. Because, well, there he was.
‘I got the Tube to the airport, then I got on the flight I booked last minute and picked up a hire car once I landed, and now here I am,’ he explained slowly, and Grace’s befuddled brain registered the cheeky tone.
‘Not funny, Chris. You know what I meant. I thought you had a gig tomorrow night?’
‘Cancelled.’ He shrugged. ‘Although we’re booked for Sunday night, so I’ll be flying back to London first thing Sunday morning. Ulla’s gone back to Finland for the week, too. She had a yearning for a sauna and her mam’s salmon soup and rye bread.’ He toed the cobbles with his boot. ‘So here I am.’
‘Here you are.’ If Grace had had a bottle with a genie inside it, she’d have rubbed it and wished that the Silent Finn had returned to her homeland permanently.
His next sentence sent a frisson of pure pleasure through her.
‘We’re a team on this festival, remember, Grace.’
She smiled at the sentiment and realised that even though she’d her sisters on her side, it was nice to know Chris was here to help shoulder the load with her.
‘Janey Mack, it’s Emerald Bay’s own Romeo and Juliet,’ Imogen muttered, causing Shannon to snicker and Grace to stand on her big sister’s toe, sending her hobbling backwards with a yelp. She hopped about and said, ‘That was uncalled for!’
Shannon backed away from Grace warily before saying, ‘Would you not just go downstairs and talk to the lad, Grace.’
Shannon had a point, Grace thought as Chris thrust his hands in his pocket and began to whistle, because someone was bound to notice him down there. The next thing they’d know, Liam Kelly would be barrelling around the corner, getting the wrong end of the stick. ‘I’ll be down in two ticks.’
Her sisters gave her a wide berth as she shoved her feet into her trainers and, flinging items out of her wheelie case, located her cardigan, pulling it on. Then she narrowed her eyes in her sisters’ direction and said, ‘Neither of you better breathe a word of this,’ before haring off down the stairs. She still couldn’t believe it. Chris was really here!
The kitchen was deserted, the dishes draining on the worktop when Grace poked her head round the door, which was a blessing, because she didn’t wish to face the Spanish Inquisition. She let herself out the back door, leaving it off the latch so she could sneak back in undetected later.
It wouldn’t be dark for hours yet, and Grace stole around the back of the pub, not wanting to be spotted by any locals enjoying the early summer evening in the beer garden. The last thing she needed was for Evan Kennedy, holding court at a table over there, to spot her and ask her dad why he’d seen Grace skulking about. Grace knew he’d be giving the cluster of tourists seated around him – who were easy to spot simply because their faces were unfamiliar – his pitter-patter about being distantly related to JFK himself. That and his mournfulness about the curse of the Kennedys stretching as far as his backyard in Emerald Bay usually ensured him a free drink or two. Grace could almost recite his spiel by rote. She didn’t think he’d seen her, and a sigh of relief escaped her as she ducked into the laneway.
Chris was still standing under her bedroom window, and she kicked the image of him that floated to mind, standing there with a rose between his teeth to the kerb. ‘You’re mad. Do you know that?’ she said, coming to a halt in front of him, her hands squarely on her hips, chin tilted, trying and failing to eyeball him. He was too tall.
‘I prefer to think of myself as spontaneous.’ Chris winked. ‘Besides, I wanted to tell you in person.’
‘Tell me what?’ Grace demanded. She huffed with frustration when he said he’d tell her soon.
‘C’mon – my car’s parked over there.’ Chris pointed to the lane adjacent to the beer garden, where the fields behind the hedgerow eventually met craggy outcrops. ‘Let’s go for a drive.’
Grace, looking over her shoulder all the way like a wartime spy, followed his lead over to the nondescript hire car. She clambered in and slid low in the seat, wishing she had a baseball cap to pull down over her brow and hide her giveaway red hair.
‘Hurry up,’ she hissed at Chris as he fiddled with the key in the ignition. She was keen to put distance between them and the pub.
‘There’s a knack to it,’ Chris said, shooting her an amused glance as he slid the key in and out then jiggled it to the left and right. At last, the engine roared to life.
The car smelled faintly of stale cigarettes despite its dust-free interior and polished mirrors.
‘It’s not good for you slouching like so. You’ll get a crick in your back.’
Grace heard the mirth behind his words and glared up, arms folded across her chest. ‘It’s not funny. Sure, you know yourself what Emerald Bay’s like. If anyone sees me in the car with you, they’ll morph into an Olympic sprinter in their haste to tell me dad.’
‘Fair play.’
‘I wouldn’t imagine your father would be best pleased either.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ was his enigmatic reply as the car veered around the corner onto Main Street.
Grace tried to read his expression, but he wasn’t giving anything away, so she looked straight ahead, barely able to see the familiar buildings on either side of the road over the dashboard.
As they drove under the flapping bunting that signalled they were leaving the village, he said, ‘The coast is clear. You can sit up now.’
Grace scrunched up in her seat and stretched. He was right. She had a crick in her back. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I thought we could park up by Kilticaneel Castle.’
The last time Grace had parked up at Kilticaneel Castle, she’d been snogging the face off a cute Canadian backpacker passing through the village. She flushed at the memory. Many an Emerald Bay couple had ‘parked up’ by the castle.
She allowed herself a sideways glance at Chris’s profile as the car bounced off the main road and into the area reserved for parking. Never in a million years did she think she’d be parking up here with Chris Dorrance or wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
A vicious pothole brought her to her senses as the car juddered up then down, and she was glad she’d not flung her bra off earlier as she was apt to do as soon as the day was done. Chris had brought her here to compare notes on the festival, not to snog her, she reminded herself sternly.
He pulled up near the top of the snaking coastal path down to the bay. To their right, standing sentry as it had done for centuries, were the ruins of Kilticaneel Castle. It was still in use today, providing the local children with hours of entertainment as they climbed the Keep and kept a lookout for marauding pirates. The castle was also a popular tourist stop on the trail through Emerald Bay and beyond. Tonight, however, there were no signs of life, although four campervans and a car were parked down the opposite end of the lot. If Sergeant Badger happened to cruise past and see the campers, he’d give them short shrift. Freedom camping was prohibited, although the locals turned a blind eye so long as no mess was left behind.
‘All right – we’re here now,’ Grace said as Chris stilled the engine. ‘Don’t keep me in suspense any longer. What was it you wanted to tell me?’
It took Grace a moment to realise she was holding her breath, her fingernails digging into her palms as she watched Chris’s lips part.