Chapter 30
The sweetish smell of freshly cut grass floated on the morning air as Grace kept pace with her dad, his trusty leather satchel slapping against his side with each step. So far, so good. Her leg was holding up just fine, and she was enjoying the summery sunshine on her bare arms and legs. It was positively balmy.The sun was already high in a sky which was the same shade as Chris’s eyes. She squinted up at it and spied a feather-shaped cloud.
Her dad had picked the perfect day for a countryside ramble, because it was one of those rare gems of a summer’s day in Ireland, where you’d expect to see palm trees swaying gently on the warm breeze.
However, the only thing swaying so far as Grace could see was the park swing as a child’s voice shouted out, ‘Higher, Daddy! Push me higher!’ She smiled on seeing the little girl holding on for dear life, her hair streaming back, legs flung out. Her face was alight, and she was laughing, full of the joy and carefreeness that a perfect summer’s day like this dished up. Grace remembered doing the same thing at that age and feeling like she could touch the sky, while Ava was always content to just kick her legs back and forth, watching her sister sail high in the air.
Liam was looking over, too. ‘Reminds me of you.’
He’d a wistful expression for bygone days on his face, and Grace suddenly wanted to reach out and grab his arm, telling him she might not want him to push her on the swings anymore, but she still needed him. The moment came and went, though, because he’d moved on and was waving out and shouting a cheery morning over the droning of Mr Sheedy’s mower as he pushed it over the pocket handkerchief of grass outside his cottage.
‘I think there should be a law against mowing your lawn before nine o’clock on a Sunday morning,’ Grace muttered, but if her father heard her, he gave no sign.
A short distance ahead was the white stone church with its annexe, which served as a hub for community meetings and activities. The little gate with the path to the church steps was still closed, but in another couple of hours, Father Seamus would be standing in the entrance greeting his parishioners as they filed in. Straining her ears, Grace caught a few organ notes and figured Mrs Rae must be practising a new hymn for this morning’s Mass, and, remembering her effusive greeting of Chris last night, she grinned to herself.
It didn’t take long for them to reach the edge of the village, where the smattering of houses suddenly gave way to what would soon be a carpeted landscape of heather-hazed blanket bog stretching as far as the eye could see. It was overseen by a craggy, mountainous backdrop where red deer, sheep and goats could be found. Grace shaded her eyes, scanning the shadowy valleys with their streams in the distance. Then she took in the remains of a stone wall left to crumble and the patches of shimmering oversized blue puddles on the flatter ground. She knew the soil on either side of the sinewy track they’d follow was spongey and that you had to look for swallow holes when you wandered off the path. Her dad had told her once the bog was Ireland’s rainforest. She’d liked that idea. Now she heard him exhale and knew he’d reached his happy place.
‘I’ll never understand what draws folks to the city,’ he said half to himself with a shake of his head. He’d donned the Indiana Jones–style hat Nora had bought him aeons ago for these excursions of his, and visible beneath the wide brim, beads of sweat were already popping on his brow. ‘’Tis a good thing it does, I suppose, or I’d have to share this with all and sundry.’
It was her father who’d introduced her to this magical landscape, telling her stories of how he used to help harvest the peat when he was a boy and how the blanket bog was home to all sorts of flora and fauna if you knew what to look for. Grace remembered him telling her how the bog was used to study the past and predict the future and that it was made up of ninety per cent water. These facts had largely gone over her head at the time, because she’d been entranced by a butterfly with orange-tipped wings dancing past. She spotted one now and was just as mesmerised as she’d been then.
‘It’s possible to love both, you know, Dad,’ she said softly, watching it flit away – a vibrant splash against the cerulean sky.
Whether he heard or not, Grace couldn’t say, and they set off down the track at a comfortable pace. The silence was broken only by their rhythmic footfall, the occasional buzz of an insect or burst of birdsong. There wasn’t another soul in sight. Grace knew how this worked. They’d walk until Dad spotted something that took his eye, then he’d pause to inspect it, perhaps snip a flower to stow in his satchel before carrying on. A suitable perch to enjoy morning tea would be found. After which it would be time to carry on until his stomach reminded him of the packed sandwiches he’d brought with him, and once they were gone, he’d walk a little longer before turning back to head for home. Grace hoped he planned on sharing his food stash with her.
Twenty minutes later, food was far from her mind as she wondered whether tagging along could fall into the ‘not using common sense’ category. She was here now, though, and pulling up her metaphorical big-girl pants, she resolved to do her best to ignore the throbbing in her lower leg. It was still a relief when her dad at last came to a stop. She caught him muttering something about his breakfast not sitting well before he turned, fetching a hanky from his pocket to mop his brow as he said, ‘I’ve the indigestion something terrible.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ Grace glanced about, wishing a convenient stone would appear suitable for her to flop down on for a rest.
‘You said no mithering.’
‘No,’ she said, dimple appearing as she forgot her leg for a moment. ‘You said no mithering.’
Something caught Liam’s eye then, and he stepped off the path, still moaning about his indigestion as he picked his way over to whatever it was. Grace unscrewed the lid of her water bottle before drinking deeply then watched him bend down, only to straighten after a second or two to beckon her over to look. Stashing her bottle back in her pack, she dragged herself across to see what he was pointing at.
It looked like the plant equivalent of a pink-and-pale-yellow jellyfish with spines. ‘What is it?’ she asked, unsure if she’d describe it as beautiful or ugly.
‘A sundew, otherwise known as Drosera,’ Liam replied, keen to share his knowledge. ‘It’s carnivorous. Like your plant in the Little Shop of Horrors.’
Grace didn’t know what he was on about with the Little Shop thing, but she did understand what carnivorous meant, and she took a step back just in case it was also poisonous.
‘It eats insects.’
‘Lovely.’ She tuned her father out as he followed her back to the path, delivering a report on how the digested insects supplemented the soil and wasn’t nature a wonderous thing? Grace had other things on her mind, because she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to hobble along, mindful of the fact she had to walk all the way back to the village, too. Was now a good time to broach the prickly subject of Mark Dorrance? She glanced back over her shoulder, seeing he’d stopped once again to snip off some sort of flower, and she waited while he put it in his satchel. He seemed to be in good spirits despite his heartburn.
‘Dad,’ she ventured tentatively as he stood up once more.
Liam, rubbing his sternum, grumbled, ‘Here it comes. I knew you’d not followed me out here because you fancied a stroll with your auld dad. C’mon, would you just say your piece and be done with it?’
Grace already knew by his tone how this would go, but still, she pushed. ‘I want you to tell me what happened between you and Mark Dorrance.’
‘And I’ve already told you that’s none of your business.’ Liam frowned, his face in shadows beneath the wide brim of his hat. ‘I don’t understand why the sudden need to poke about in the past.’
He really was unfit, Grace thought, noticing he’d appeared to almost pant his last few words out.
‘Because I like Chris, that’s why. And I want you to like him, too, but how can you if all you see when you look at him is his dad, who, for reasons I don’t understand, you hate?’ She couldn’t keep the shrill note from creeping into her voice. ‘Do you realise how important this fundraiser is to me?’
Liam made a snorting sound, and Grace clenched her hands tightly in frustration, which she knew would soon turn to hurt at his flippant dismissal. She’d just poured her heart out to him, and even now, he was behaving like a child.
The sight of his lip curled churlishly saw her fling her arms in the air. ‘All right, Dad. You win. I give up!’ Without looking back, she began to pick her way down the track they’d just walked, tears stinging her eyes. She’d not wanted to leave things like this with him, but he wouldn’t even meet her a quarter of the way, let alone half.
It was challenging flouncing off when you were trying not to put too much weight on one leg.
Mam would go mad at how stupid she’d been, Grace thought, her breath coming in angry huffs. She was supposed to be resting her leg, not embarking on epic journeys into the wilderness. Dad was such a pig-headed arse! But so was she, and she was going to pay for her stupidity now, because the village was so far away, it looked like Lilliput. Each step saw her grimace, and part of her wanted to look back over her shoulder to see if her dad was coming after her, if not to apologise, then to check if she was all right.
As the seconds turned to minutes, the anger spurring her on began to seep away. One of them had to back down. Did she really want to leave things as they were? Her sigh saw her falter. A pig-headed arse he might be, but he was also her dad, and she loved him.
Grace turned around and began to slowly shamble back in the opposite direction. She soon spotted a mound on the path and shaded her eyes, trying to see what it was. Alarm bells were beginning to ring, because it hadn’t been there before, and she knew it could be only one thing: her dad. But why was he on the ground, hunched over?
‘Dad!’ she called, but the breeze carried her voice in the opposite direction. Something wasn’t right, and Grace gritted her teeth, her heart beginning to bang against her chest as she hurried toward him.