Chapter 15
At the grassy triangle where the café had now ceded to the pub, instead of coffee drinkers, people were drinking pints of Guinness or sharing bottles of wine.
My eye was caught by a man with blond bouncy hair, some kind of rugby top on and loose shorts, carrying two pints of Guinness, the top like whipped cream.
He dodged in and out of the crowd, stepped over a bench in one move and narrowly missed being tackled by a run-about toddler. He didn’t spill a drop.
‘Impressive,’ I said.
Henry looked over at him, and rolled his eyes. ‘Oh God,’ he said.
‘Oh God, what?’
The man was now clambering onto the side of a picnic bench, the two pints held aloft like flaming torches.
‘He’s just a bit of an eejit, that’s all,’ said Henry. ‘Anyway, there’s nothing impressive about carrying pints. Nursery schools have carrying pints lessons, it’s part of the curriculum.’
I laughed. ‘And you don’t waste a drop. No spillage.’
‘Spillage is sacrilege. Honestly, the pint needs to be perfect. People are very precious about their pints. It starts young in Ireland. We don’t have a reputation for liking drink without putting in the work.’
I glanced over at the blond man who had given one of the pints to the man with him, and was sipping the other, his lips in the foam, his eye on Henry, as though waiting for the opportunity to say hello, but Henry didn’t notice. Why would Henry, who seemed so lovely, have a thing against this man?
‘I’ve never had Guinness,’ I said. ‘What does it taste like?’
‘Heaven? Like all the nice things in the world combined? Anyway, it’s not about taste. Well, not totally. It’s a way of life. It’s fundamental, it’s soulful. It stirs your very being.’ He was still grinning at me. ‘I’ll go and buy you a pint,’ he said. ‘Are you sure you want one?’
‘Yeah, of course. I mean, they are so important to the Irish psyche, then being Irish-American, I need to try it.’
I found a seat for the two of us while he went inside to the bar. The only place I could find was at the other end of the picnic table to the blond guy. He glanced up when he saw me. ‘How’s it going?’ He nodded.
‘Great, thank you.’ I smiled back at him and sat at the table.
Everyone around me was in summer clothes, not a single pair of jeans like I was wearing, there were baggy shorts, kaftans, loose blouses, open-necked shirts.
I needed new clothes, I thought. Except, what was the point when I would be resuming my old life shortly?
‘On holiday?’ The man was speaking to me.
‘Sort of.’
‘Oh, yes?’ He smiled at me and, for some reason, he reminded me of Milhouse.
A taller, far better-looking version, but the same entitled confidence.
The collar of his rugby top was flicked up and he had the kind of smile which was hard to ignore, his white teeth matched the top of his pint.
‘Charlie Richmond.’ He stood up, his hand outstretched.
‘You’re very welcome to Sandycove. Where are you from? ’
‘Boston.’
‘Ah, Boston. The Windy City.’
‘No, that’s Chicago.’
‘It’s not the Big Apple, I know that much.’ He grinned at me. ‘That’s San Francisco.’
I laughed but he looked a little confused.
‘Anyway, I’m not one for geography. But I’ve been there, I think.’ He turned to the man opposite him. ‘Milo? Have I been to Boston?’
Milo shrugged. ‘I don’t keep a diary of your movements, bro, so I have no idea.’
Charlie laughed loudly. ‘Milo pretends he hates me.’
‘I’m here because Charlie buys the pints,’ said Milo, with a look on his face that made me think he was telling the truth.
‘Anyway, better get back to Milo, or our pints will get cold.’ He laughed again. ‘I can’t take credit for that one,’ he said. ‘I heard someone say it on television. Anyway! Nice to meet you.’
He retreated back to his seat, just as Henry arrived, carrying two pints of Guinness and a packet of chips in his mouth, which he dropped onto the table in front of me, like a bird with a worm.
‘That’s even more impressive,’ I said. ‘Chips as well.’
‘Oh, you know, I have this burning need to outdo people.’ His smile faded as he spotted Charlie.
‘Henry!’ said Charlie, cheerfully. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Grand… you?’
‘Oh, couldn’t be better. How are the corporate talks going? Done any lately?’
‘A few…’ said Henry.
‘One of my pals was at one of yours. The Hero’s Journey In Life. He liked it.’ He raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Said it was inspiring.’
‘That’s good to know,’ said Henry.
‘I have a new boat, d’you hear? Called Fleetfish. Bought her in Antibes. She was delivered yesterday. The lads in the boatyard are just performing a few tweaks, you know how it is, working their magic. I bet you don’t get anything in the size of Fleetfish at your boatyard.’
‘No, I don’t suppose I do.’ Henry looked back at me. ‘Kerry-Anne, this is Charlie Richmond. His family own the other boatyard.’
‘We’ve met,’ said Charlie, casually. ‘And just to say that our boatyard is bigger, much bigger, but apparently size is irrelevant. But when it comes to boatyards, I’m not sure.
’ He grinned again as Henry grimaced. ‘It’s not often that Henry is in the company of a beautiful woman…
what’s going on, Henry? Changed your aftershave? ’
Milo sniggered from behind his pint glass as Charlie laughed again.
‘Only teasing, Henry. God! What does one need to do to raise a laugh around here? Anyway, I presume you’ve entered for the regatta?
’ He turned to me. ‘I normally don’t bother.
Prefer speedboats myself. But I was in Antibes at Easter and there was this beauty for sale and I may or may not have stumped up a fair whack for her.
But she’ll be the finest in the water on regatta day.
Henry, why don’t you come up to our boatyard and have a gander?
They are just tweaking some of the instruments, fine-tuning and all that.
There’s a rudder issue which they are dragging their feet looking at.
Apparently there are far more important boats which are taking precedence…
’ He laughed. ‘Actually owning the place carries no weight with the lads at the yard, it seems. Might have to crack the whip. I need it to be in the water by regatta. Anyway, enjoy your drinks. And good to meet you, Kerry-Anne.’ When he left to find a seat at the end of our long table, Henry kept his face utterly passive, giving me the impression he had absolutely no time for Charlie and no love lost.