Chapter 48
ROSIE
Rosie stood in reception, smiling and shaking hands and thanking the guests as they all began to check out and leave.
Newly-weds Niamh and Seán were talking to Grace.
Brian glowered in the corner, waiting for Teddy to pull up in the minibus to take a group of them to the station.
Kate was on her phone, her suitcase at her feet.
‘Yes, sign me up,’ she was saying. ‘God, I need to do another ultramarathon. And the fact that it’s in the desert makes it even better. ’
But Patrick was nowhere to be seen.
Niamh hugged Rosie. ‘We’ll be back for our anniversary,’ Niamh said, holding out her hand to catch Seán as he was moving past her, reeling him in. ‘We’ve loved it, haven’t we, Seán?’
He stopped and smiled at Rosie. ‘We’ve had the most wonderful time. Everything about it has been great. And the things we were most worried about were grand.’ His eyes flickered over to Brian.
Rosie nodded and smiled, smiled and nodded, all while trying to spy Patrick. Where was he?
Niamh was still talking, Seán had his arm around her and Rosie had given up even an attempt at listening. Finally, she could take it no longer, she put a hand on Niamh’s arm. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Patrick…?’
‘He left a couple of hours ago…’ Seán turned to Niamh. ‘What time did he say his plane was leaving? It’s one of those private things… how the other half live, eh?’
Niamh was trying to remember. ‘Two o’clock, was it?
Something like that. They were meant to leave much later, but Kerry-Anne, she’s his business partner, apparently had to leave earlier and he said he was happy enough to go with her.
Anyway, he promised he’d be back soon. We were trying to persuade him to come for Christmas, but he said he’s always working right up to the day. ’
Seán nodded. ‘Why? Something wrong? Did he not pay his bill or something?’
He laughed but Rosie walked away. It was just after 12 p.m. and the airport was miles away, on the other side of Dublin and there was always traffic on the route. It was ridiculous. She had missed him.
She walked briskly to the front desk. ‘Did anyone leave a letter for me? A note?’
The receptionist nodded. ‘Thought I saw something… one sec…’ She pulled out an envelope. ‘Here we go.’
Rosie took it, her hands trembling as she took out a letter. It was his handwriting.
Dear Rosie, thank you for the last few days.
I return to Boston feeling very different to the man I was when I arrived.
I know I was meant to meet you all those years ago, and I know I was meant to meet you this weekend.
And perhaps we will meet again, along the road sometime.
You have touched me, yet again. There is something about you which goes so deeply into me, and I doubt I will ever have that with anyone.
You do something to me. Always have. Always will.
Your beautiful face, the way you look at me, those eyes.
I am determined not to forget them for as long as I can, I need something to sustain me.
But I wish you all the love in the world and I hope you are happy and fulfilled. And I wish the same for me.
Patrick.
Grace took her arm. ‘Rosie? Everything okay?’
‘He’s gone…’ Rosie felt all the emotion in her throat. She could barely speak. ‘He’s gone. Again.’
‘Where?’
‘Airport. His flight leaves at two.’
‘Let’s go. Now.’ Grace grabbed Rosie’s hand and the two of them ran out of the hotel, weaving past the guests, past the minibus which Teddy was helping people on to, and to the garage. ‘I’ll drive,’ said Grace, racing for the driver’s side of the Land Rover. ‘You’re too overwrought!’
In they jumped, Grace revving life into the car, then they bunny-hopped along for a while until Grace managed to sort out what her feet were doing on the pedals and they shot forward, over the cattle grid, and roared onto the coast road.
The car was roasting and they rolled down their windows, air rushing into the car. ‘I don’t know if this is even a good idea,’ Rosie shouted to Grace.
‘You can decide that when we get there,’ Grace shouted back. They were on the motorway now, taking their place in the cars and trucks and lorries. ‘You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but let’s just get there. By the way, can’t you call him?’
‘I don’t have his number!’
In a previous existence, Grace must have been one of those American gumball rally drivers, because she overtook lorries at great speed.
At one point, they cruised past a man in a sleek Mercedes and when he saw the old jalopy which was overtaking him, he made it his mission to get them back.
But on they pressed, Grace’s eyes fixed on the road, with the focus of a fighter pilot, swooping in and out of the cars.
And then the turn-off for the airport. Grace indicated, slipping into the left-hand lane.
Dublin Airport was a congested maze at the best of times, but during the summer holidays it was unbearable. And during an Irish heatwave, it was unimaginable. There was no way of getting through. ‘Do I drop you outside?’ said Grace.
And then there was a sign: ‘Executive plane departures’. They looked at each other. ‘There, that way!’
They headed around the airport, past the main terminal and to a building with a sign: ‘Executive Planes’. Grace slowed down and Rosie jumped out, heart beating, head pounding.
‘GO! GO! GO!’ shouted Grace, who seemed to think she was now in a heist film. ‘Run!’
Rosie turned and shouted back, ‘But are you sure? Am I doing the right thing?’
Grace was standing on the footplate of the Land Rover, shouting over the roof of the car. ‘Live your life! Didn’t you want a bigger life? Don’t you want to be brave? Just go!’
Rosie nodded. Yes. Yes, that’s what she wanted.
Anything less was stultifying and small.
She began running. Ahead was a security hut, where a man in a peaked cap looked down at her.
Rosie was bright red, her face was burning, she was sweating and sticky and her hair a bird’s nest after being in the car with the windows open.
‘Not the normal way our clients arrive,’ he said, calmly. ‘Looking for someone?’
‘It’s a flight to Boston…’
The man looked at his computer screen. ‘One has just departed for Boston in the last few minutes.’
Rosie’s heart sank.
‘Actually, sorry, my mistake. The take-off was to Bolton. Little bit of a difference.’ He laughed. ‘Right, Boston, USA. You’re too late. It’s being cleared for departure now.’
‘Can you delay it? I need to say something to someone…’
The man observed her. ‘What do you want to say?’
‘I want to say that he was right to go that time and he was right to live his life but this time I’d like to go with him!’
The man rolled his eyes. ‘Not another one. Do you have your passport?’
‘No. But I need to talk to him. I promise I won’t leave.’
He sighed heavily and got on the walkie-talkie. ‘George, we’ve got another love story going on here. I’ll need your assistance.’
George’s voice crackled over the radio. ‘Roger that, Barry. Just call me Cupid. I’m on my way.’
Within seconds, there was George on one of those luggage transporting trucks.
‘Hop in!’ he shouted.
‘Good luck,’ called Barry, as Rosie made a dash for it. ‘Invite us to the wedding!’
George drove with even less care than Grace, skidding to a halt outside a smooth, white and perfectly formed jet. Rosie fell out of the truck, as George saluted her.
And there at the top of the steps, looking at her, was Patrick.