Chapter 11
However, resisting the combined force of her mother and Carmel was trickier than Mary had anticipated.
She ought to have known better by now. That evening, before she’d had a chance to make up an excuse for Evan to cry off, her mother messaged her to tell her that everything was arranged with Carmel and both of them were expected at the O’Sullivans’ for Christmas dinner.
Then just as she was trying to formulate a reply, Carmel herself rang wanting to know if Evan had any food allergies or was on any special diet, and going through a whole checklist of his preferences for Christmas dinner.
‘Does he drink, do you know? I hope so because I have a very nice wine picked out for dinner, but I can stock up on some of that zero per cent stuff instead if he’s teetotal.’
‘I don’t know. But you could still have your wine, even if he is.’
‘Ah no, I wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable.’
Mary tried to remember if she had ever seen Evan drinking. ‘Oh, yes! I’ve seen him drinking beer, so he’s not teetotal.’
‘Great, well find out what his favourite tipple is. Now, I’ve made my own personalised place settings this year, so I’ll get to work on an extra couple for the pair of you.’
‘There’s no need to go to all that trouble, Carmel.’
‘It’s no bother. I enjoy it.’ That was true. Carmel was very crafty and was always playing around with glue guns and glitter. ‘Besides, we don’t want Evan to feel like he was an afterthought.’
She was being so kind, Mary didn’t have the heart to turn down the invitation on Evan’s behalf. In the end all she said was, ‘Thanks so much, Carmel. It’s really nice of you to have us at such short notice.’
She spent the rest of the night in her room, keeping out of Evan’s way and trying to think of a way of persuading him to go to the O’Sullivans’ with her on Christmas Day.
She woke early the next morning, but heard Evan moving around downstairs, so stayed in bed reading and emailing for another hour to give him space – and, if she was honest with herself, to put off breaking it to him that he was expected at the O’Sullivans’ for Christmas dinner.
Seeing that Aifric was online, she called to tell her that she’d persuaded Evan to let her stay.
‘Good for you! I knew you could do it. You should bring him along to the pub tonight. Or get him to come with you in the morning, so we can all have a look at him.’
‘In the morning?’
‘You know, for the Christmas swim.’
‘Oh. That.’
‘Now you’re home, I assume we’ll be seeing you there.’
Mary had thought she’d skip it – it would be one advantage of her family not being around that she wouldn’t have to join all the other maniacs charging into the freezing Atlantic on Christmas morning.
Her sister Abbie – far too outdoorsy for Mary’s liking – was usually the ringleader in their family, signing them up first thing in December and rounding them all up on the day.
‘I haven’t got any sponsorship, though.’ The Christmas swim was done for charity, and everyone spent the run-up to it fundraising.
Mary had often tried to wriggle out of it by offering to make a donation instead of taking part, but Abbie insisted that wasn’t in the spirit of the thing.
To be fair, Mary did always enjoy herself when it came to it, despite the icy water and whipping winds.
It was fun, squealing and whooping with their friends and neighbours as they all charged into the waves in swimsuits and Santa hats.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Aifric said. ‘Come for the craic and you can bung us a few quid on the day. What do you say?’
‘Yeah, I’ll come. What else would I be doing at noon on Christmas Day?’ She thought longingly of a lazy lie-in, snuggled under the warm duvet for an extra hour or two.
‘And you’ll bring Evan Prentice? Though I suppose he’s just Evan to you now.’
‘I don’t think so. I haven’t even persuaded him to come to the O’Sullivans’ for dinner yet.
’ It would be one thing convincing Evan he could attend a family dinner without anyone alerting the media.
A crowded beach full of overexcited children and teens would be another matter.
And he wouldn’t be able to wear his home invader ensemble in the water.
He’d be totally exposed. She dismissed the distracting thought of Evan in swim trunks.
‘Besides, I’m sure he didn’t bring his swimming trunks for a stay in Kerry in December. ’
‘That’s no problem. I can get Owen to kit him out with anything he needs.’ Owen ran a surf school at Inch and had a hire shop on the beach. He worked closely with Abbie and Aifric, who booked surf lessons and adventure activities with him for their customers.
‘Well, I can ask him, but I’m not guaranteeing anything.’
‘Great. I’ll see you in the pub tonight anyway?’
‘Definitely. See you then.’
When she went into the kitchen later, showered and dressed, she found Evan at the sink, scrubbing a pot. She could probably get good money for a photo of that.
‘So I was talking to my mum,’ she said, launching in without preamble, glad he had his back to her, ‘and it looks like we’re going to the O’Sullivans for dinner tomorrow.’ She’d decided it would be best to present it to him as a fait accompli. That approach always seemed to work for her mother.
‘We?’ He turned from the sink, screwing up his face.
‘You and me,’ she clarified, waving her hand between them.
‘Well, I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m not going anywhere.’ He grabbed a towel and dried his hands. She couldn’t help noticing his strong, tanned forearms. She was a sucker for a good forearm.
‘I told my mum I’d take you. She’s booked us in. They’re expecting both of us.’
‘The O’Sullivans?’ He frowned, cocking his head to the side.
‘They’re our nearest neighbours. Carmel and—’
‘They’re the folks you were trying to persuade me to burglarise instead of you when you thought I was carrying out a home invasion. Very neighbourly of you, I must say.’
‘I didn’t want you to rob them. I was just trying to defuse the situation and get rid of you. I was giving you a chance to walk away.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s actually not a bad idea.’
‘I saw it on Oprah, I think. I’d have called the police as soon as you’d left.’ She took a notebook where she’d scribbled down Carmel’s queries from the back pocket of her jeans. ‘So, I just have a few questions from Carmel,’ she said, flipping it open. ‘First, do you have any food allergies?’
‘No.’
‘Great. Do you eat turkey?’
‘Yes, but I don’t see what that’s—’
‘How do you feel about Brussels sprouts?’ she asked, ticking turkey off on her list.
He shrugged. ‘I like them, I guess.’
‘Great. About how many would you eat? More than five? Less? How many will I put you down for? It doesn’t have to be exact,’ she added to his slightly panicked expression. ‘Just a rough estimate.’
He frowned down at the notebook in her hands. ‘You can put me down for none because I won’t be there.’
‘Don’t be like that. Now, cats—’
‘I don’t eat cats.’
Mary gave him a patient smile. ‘Do you like them?’
‘I can take them or leave them. You can put me down for neutral on cats.’
‘I suppose that’s good enough. Chuckles O’Sullivan has a very big personality, though. He’s not a take-him-or-leave-him kind of cat. And if he doesn’t take to you, he’ll make his feelings known.’
‘How?’
‘Well… he’s been known to pee on people he doesn’t like.’
‘Okay, I’ve changed my mind. Not that it’s relevant, but you can put me down as firmly in the anti-Chuckles camp.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get along fine with him. Okay, spuds – there’ll be roast, mash and croquettes,’ she said, tapping her notebook. ‘Any other kind you’d like?’
‘Three types of potatoes?’
‘Welcome to Ireland.’
He gave a crooked smile. ‘None of the above, thanks. Zero spuds for me.’
‘Oh, I suppose you can’t eat potatoes, can you?’ She smirked. ‘I guess you have to watch your figure.’ She ran her eyes over his body. ‘That catsuit you wear is pretty tight.’
‘I do so eat potatoes. And I do not wear a “catsuit”.’
‘Onesie, then. Whatever.’
Evan rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t want potatoes at Carmel Somebody’s—’
‘O’Sullivan.’
‘At Carmel O’Sullivan’s house tomorrow because I won’t be there.’ He raked a hand through his hair exasperatedly. ‘Look, I’ve travelled halfway across the world to avoid this exact situation—’
‘Oh, come off it! That’s not true. You didn’t even know who the O’Sullivans were until five minutes ago. You can’t have travelled halfway across the world to avoid having dinner with them.’
There was the ghost of a reluctant smile on his lips. ‘You know what I mean. I’ve gone out of my way to avoid anyone finding out where I am.’
Mary sighed. ‘So you’re worried about them recognising you and word getting out that you’re here?’
He shifted uncomfortably and she decided she’d hit on the problem. ‘You don’t have to worry about that. You always wear that stupid mask on TV anyway. They’ll never know it’s you.’
‘I’ve done other things, you know. Anyway, I’m not always wearing the mask. Sometimes Peter Parker is just tooling around pretending to be a regular guy. And also…’
‘What?’
‘Spider-Man’s mask isn’t stupid,’ he said solemnly.
‘Honestly, they won’t even know who you are.
They lead a very simple sheltered life up here.
They won’t have seen any of your movies or TV shows.
’ Mary would have to brief the O’Sullivans later and get them on board with this ruse.
Carmel wouldn’t mind; in fact, she’d probably enjoy the shenanigans.
Their grandson Charlie might be a problem, though. He was only five.
‘Give me a break!’ Evan scoffed. ‘This place may be remote, but I know you have TV.’ He waved in the direction of the big flatscreen in the living room.
‘I never said we didn’t. But the O’Sullivans don’t watch it. It’s… a religious thing. You know, like Amish.’
‘How are they cooking this death-by-spuds dinner then?’