Epilogue
A YEAR LATER…
The hotel was looking resplendent in the July sunshine. There had been seventeen weddings over the last year, from a large one with a hundred guests to a small, sweet and perfectly formed one.
As events manager, she hadn’t been just in charge of weddings, of course, they had hosted all sorts of events, from Communions to the local book festival, and even the latest gathering of the orchid hunters of Ireland and Britain.
Grace thought she could never imagine so many people wearing spectacles and tweed.
‘It was like we were hosting a Miss Marple convention,’ she said to Nessa.
This weekend was a private, family-only event, because there was so much to celebrate.
Nessa had brought a vigour to her management and had made some radical but ultimately brilliant changes.
For one thing, she had turned the old garage at the back of the hotel into a new bar.
She retained the corrugated roof, and rusty front, but a full fit-out was carried out over winter, to reveal something which looked half-shebeen, half-secret den, with benches and tables, a large seating area which was covered by a canopy of sail.
There was a pizza oven, and fairy lights, and a blackboard sign with the day’s special cocktails chalked on.
Francois had designed the pizza menu and had taken it so seriously and made them so authentically Italian – apparently, he had Italian heritage as well as French and Welsh – that the hotel had already won a Foodie award, and the Old Garage was open four nights a week.
This summer, the place had been thronged with guests, all looking for a slice of pizza and a Cliff Topper cocktail.
Francois was already hard at work in the kitchen, rolling out the pizza bases.
They’d had to take on extra kitchen staff to keep up with the demand.
Nessa had also brought in more bar staff and was midway through a second renovation which was to build four small lodges for guests.
Laurence was overseeing the build, having resigned from his family’s golf course.
‘I just wasn’t being trusted to do anything,’ he’d explained to Grace.
‘It’s like my dad just saw me as old useless Laurence, not the grown-up version of me.
’ He’d still gone to Portugal earlier in the year with the lads for a golf trip, but there seemed to be fewer stories of derring-do, as Wiggy was about to be a father for the third time, and Kip was just out of rehab.
Maureen had decorated the hotel with flowers and it was looking shinier and cleaner than ever.
Nessa smiled at Grace. ‘Do you think she’ll approve? Or do you think she’ll think we’ve made too many changes?’
‘Well, she’ll be here shortly, and we’ll know then,’ said Grace. ‘But I think she’ll approve.’
They were in the office, both holding a small fan. ‘It’s not as hot as last year,’ said Nessa.
‘Hot enough.’ Grace held the fan down the front of her dress.
She and Francois had gone to France for a long weekend last Easter and she’d met the whole Jones clan.
Papa Jones wore a Welsh rugby jersey and spoke French with a really strong Welsh accent.
Maman Jones was your archetypal French woman, petite and elegant, but instead of intimidating Grace, she couldn’t have been warmer or friendlier.
‘At last,’ she had said, in perfect English, ‘he’s found someone normal, someone not ’ighly strung, yes?
’ Grace had never been called ‘normal’ before and had to decide if it was a compliment or not.
She decided it was, and she and Maman Jones spent the entire time quaffing champagne and discussing books.
Teddy had been busy not just with the garden but the build of the Old Garage and he’d made the beautiful benches and requisitioned Martin Moore to build the canopy and the wooden bar, which they’d found in a reclamation yard in Kilkenny.
Nessa and Grace had ordered cushions for the benches, along with some lovely Avoca rugs for when the temperature dropped.
They’d even had a glowing write-up in The New York Times, when one of its editors was on a trip to Ireland and was recommended a night in the bar.
Martin was coming this evening, and bringing his girlfriend Jessica, who worked in one of the boutiques in the village.
She had two small children, Ellie-Mae and Frankie, and Martin was now taking them swimming every Saturday morning to the local pool and then this summer, as the weather heated up a little, he’d brought them to the Forty Foot, building their water confidence.
They had won their Newt badges. ‘Next step is Tadpole,’ explained Martin.
‘We’re hoping to get that by Christmas.’
Martin was here already, fixing up the fairy lights, replacing the three bulbs which were missing. Teddy was holding the ladder. ‘You all right up there, Martin?’ he called.
‘Grand, as long as you don’t shake the ladder,’ said Martin. ‘Is Lucinda coming this evening?’
‘I think Nessa did mention it to her,’ said Teddy. ‘I mean, we don’t want her to feel excluded, but now she’s so busy with Rory Armstrong-Doyle and his family, we don’t see her very often.’
‘What does he do again?’ asked Martin, with a laugh, and then they both said in unison, ‘He’s a barrister, don’t you know?’ in a Lucinda-voice.
There were two voices from beyond the garage. ‘Granddad! Granddad!’
‘Over here,’ called Teddy, as Killian and Isabelle raced around the corner, their little sausage dog Sossy at their heels. ‘The guests are arriving!’ they said, breathlessly. ‘It’s Seán and Niamh!’
‘We’ll be there in a moment,’ said Teddy.
The twins stared up at Martin Moore. ‘I can see right up your nostrils,’ said Killian. ‘And into your brain.’
‘At least I have a brain,’ said Martin. ‘Sometimes I wonder.’
‘Will Ellie-Mae be coming?’ asked Isabelle. ‘And Frankie?’
‘They’re not going to miss this for the world,’ called down Martin.
‘Pizza, I said to them, and the company of Isabelle and Killian? And they became very overexcited, and began charging around, and then I said there might even be fizzy pop. Well, they became so excited that they both needed a nice lie-down to recover.’
Isabelle looked pleased. ‘I think that people who don’t get overexcited about nice things aren’t my kind of people.’
‘I quite agree, Isabelle,’ said Martin, hopping down the ladder. ‘Right, Teddy, you ready for the big switch on?’
‘Everyone count down,’ said Teddy, who was inside the Old Garage, his finger on the switch.
‘Three! Two! One!’
And the place lit up.
And then it was a swirl of people arriving, Grace was carrying around a tray of Cliff Toppers.
‘I know,’ she was saying, ‘they are magnificent. My own invention, would you believe?’ And Francois managed to grab her for a quick kiss in between shovelling pizzas in and out of the oven, his face red with the heat, hers red with a passion for life.
And then the sound of a car crunching on the gravel, the horn tooting and everyone cheered. ‘They’re here!’
And there they were, Rosie and Patrick, laughing when they saw all those faces, and being introduced to the new ones.
And hugging Seán and Niamh, and then Teddy and Nessa and Laurence, Grace and Francois, Maureen and Bertie and the biggest hugs for Killian and Isabelle, who insisted on being swung around, just like Rosie used to do when they were little.
And it was so wonderful to be back, to see the hotel looking not just more beautiful, but so much better. The Old Garage was a wonderful innovation, pints were pulled, cocktails were drunk. Seán and Patrick had been in deep conversation, when Seán tapped his glass looking for silence.
‘I just wanted to welcome Patrick and Rosie back to Ireland,’ he began, as everyone gathered to listen.
‘Now, I know Rosie and Patrick were home for Christmas and I think we’ve all been over to stay with them, but we’ve missed them, we really have.
But I have to say, Niamh and I have found a whole new family with you all here at Cliff Top.
It’s been wonderful.’ He reached out his hand and drew Niamh towards him.
‘We have some news,’ he said. ‘We’re going to have a baby.
Due date Christmas Eve so you’ll have to come home again.
’ He grinned at his brother. ‘You’re going to be an uncle. ’
Patrick flung his arms around him, and then around Niamh, and then Niamh was hugged by everyone in turn, and then everyone hugged Seán and then the hugs seemed to be contagious because it seemed like you had to hug everyone.
‘It’s the Cliff Toppers,’ explained Grace. ‘They do that to people.’
And then Patrick tapped his glass. ‘It’s good to be back,’ he said.
‘No, it’s great to be back. We miss you all but we don’t feel too far away.
Our spare room always seems to have someone from Ireland in it.
And as long as they top up our supply of teabags and Jacob’s biscuits, we are happy to host. But…
’ He paused, scooping Rosie in with his arm, and drawing her close.
‘We have some news of our own.’ He smiled at her, and then kissed the top of her head.
‘Well, I’ve asked Rosie to marry me and… ’
‘What did she say?’ asked Isabelle.
‘Perhaps she said no,’ said Killian. ‘Our new teacher, Mrs Michaels, says you don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to. Never say yes just to make someone like you.’
‘But I do like him,’ said Rosie. ‘I like him a lot. And I said yes.’
Everyone cheered again, and the hugging continued apace. ‘We’ll be home for a winter wedding, we were thinking,’ said Rosie, ‘here in Cliff Top?’
Nessa and Grace were looking at each other, as though they were planning the wedding already. A winter wedding!
‘I’m thinking silver,’ said Grace in a low voice to Nessa.
‘And greenery,’ said Nessa, already on the same page. ‘Mistletoe. Huge bunches.’
Patrick tapped the glass again. ‘And I have one more announcement…’
But there was the sound of another car pulling up onto the driveway, and doors slamming shut.
‘I think they must be around in that hovel they call a bar,’ they heard a voice say.
‘Come along, Rory. Stop dawdling. Quick-quick. Oh, it’s not your dodgy leg again, is it?
Have you been doing your Pilates like I told you? ’
They turned the corner and there standing in front of them was Lucinda and her new beau Rory. ‘Hello, Lucinda,’ said Teddy, stepping towards her. ‘How lovely you could join us.’
‘Well, I couldn’t miss seeing my nieces, could I? I’m here to represent their poor, departed mother, my dear sister, Sarah.’
Rosie put her arms around Lucinda. ‘You look wonderful, Lucinda,’ she said, hugging her and shaking Rory’s hand. And then she realised something was wrong, someone was missing. ‘Where’s Pedro?’
‘Oh, we don’t talk about it,’ said Lucinda. ‘Poor Pedro.’
‘Did he…?’
Rory shook his head. ‘Pedro went on a rampage and bit the postman, drawing blood. There was a court case and, I’m afraid, Pedro had to be—’
‘Stop,’ said Lucinda. ‘I said, we don’t talk about it.
’ But she managed a smile. ‘That is how Rory and I met, actually. He was representing the postman, and he was my adversary. Our eyes met across a crowded courtroom, and despite Pedro being ordered to be… exterminated – Rory is an excellent barrister – he asked me out to lunch.’
‘You asked me,’ said Rory.
‘I am sure you asked me,’ said Lucinda. ‘Anyway, no matter. And here we are.’
‘We’re glad Pedro isn’t here,’ said Killian to Lucinda, ‘because Sossy wouldn’t like him.’
‘Well, that’s not very friendly, is it?’ said Lucinda. ‘Perhaps Pedro wouldn’t have liked Sossy.’
Killian and Isabelle looked at each other, as though highly doubtful that could be true.
But on the party went, the drink flowed, the conversation grew louder, the stories longer. And then it was just Nessa and Rosie alone, catching up with life in Sandycove and life in Boston.
‘You are happy, then?’ asked Nessa. ‘You don’t regret it?’
Rosie shook her head. ‘I needed a change, something new. Everything is exciting. And I get to be with Patrick every day.’ She smiled at her sister. ‘You’ve done an amazing job with the hotel.’
Nessa looked pleased. ‘I’ve loved every second of it.
I go to sleep dreaming of ideas and wake up with new plans.
I can work around the children’s school times, and Laurence is now the general manager and he’s actually very good.
So good, in fact, his dad is trying to poach him back.
But he won’t go. He barely drinks these days, and he even took one of Francois’ cooking courses.
He made us spaghetti bolognaise the other night and it was even better than mine. ’
As the sun set and the dessert trolley was wheeled out, everyone was encouraged to help themselves to meringues and ice cream or lemon possets and raspberries or chocolate eclairs – or all three.
Patrick came over to his fiancée. ‘I love you, Rosie,’ he said. ‘I’ve loved you every day since I met you.’
‘Me too,’ she said. ‘I love you too. Now, will you pass your pregnant fiancée an eclair, please? She needs to eat.’
Patrick’s mouth fell open. ‘You’re serious?’
Rosie nodded. ‘I did the test this morning, just before we left. I didn’t know when to tell you.’
Patrick was grinning. ‘Just one eclair? Because you deserve the whole plate. Wait, when do we tell everyone?’
‘Whenever you like.’
‘Or shall we keep the secret just for us for a little while, why don’t we just do all the talking and the planning and then before we head back to Boston, we can tell everyone.’
Rosie nodded. ‘Just us for now,’ she said. And she and Patrick kissed each other, knowing that it wasn’t just them. It was even better. Now they were three.