Chapter 9
NINE
‘I could have called Terry up to help with your bags, lovey. He’s just fixed the lights in room six and he’s down in the cellar trying to unstick the door now.
It’s the bane of our lives.’ Mary stands up very slowly, coming out from behind the large reception area as I sweep back inside from the cutting Irish December elements.
‘We’re tortured by that cellar door sticking and we’ve a big castle fundraiser céilí on this Friday night. ’
Castle fundraiser? Why would they be fundraising if the castle is to be sold to Frederick Macken in just a few days’ time? I was really hoping for a couple of weddings to pop into while I was here but it sounds like that’s the Friday night out now.
‘Don’t worry, I can manage, thank you though.
And I’m really sorry, Mary, about Dan’s car.
Does he have another vehicle to use while it’s being repaired?
And now I’m worried how the couple inside will get home tonight – can they get other transport?
Because that weather is getting worse out there?
’ I have to shake snow from my curls and bat the wet flakes from my eyelashes.
‘Don’t be fretting, lovey. Dan collected Aisling and Aaron, the happy couple, inside from Heartwell church just fine. They came all the way from across the village.’ Mary chuckles, ‘They’re staying here with us tonight. We have a lovely bridal suite I’ll let you in to see tomorrow.’
‘Oh great, thank you. Does Dan live nearby? I can pay for a taxi for him? Keep the receipt as an expense?’ Removing my wool coat, folding it over my arm. I’m trying to find out more about him, I know I am and I hate myself for it.
‘Dan’s grand, don’t be worrying about him. Listen, I promise you he’s not a jerk. I hope you didn’t take any offence to him?’ A little bit of concern enters Mary’s voice.
‘No, it’s all good, Mary.’ I immediately want to put her at ease. She has such an affability about her, it’s in the glit of her eye and the warmness of her smile.
‘That is good. Now, lovey, I’m here to answer any questions you might have for your New York magazine. I need to drum up new business for next year.’ But now Mary looks preoccupied as her nose seems to be trying to sniff something.
‘Might I be able to have a few words with the manager, do you think?’ I ask carefully. ‘In my notes my boss has said that the owner is not available but I should seek out the manager?’
‘You can have as many words as you like, you’re standing right in front of her.’ Mary grins and folds her arms under her ample chest as some guests pass us by. ‘But I’m running to get some vol-au-vents out of the Aga. I can smell them, they’re ready.’
‘Oh! I’m so sorry. Right, Mary, you’re also the manager. That’s great, thank you.’ My face heats up with embarrassment, mortified at my faux pas.
‘Plenty of time for chats later. Now, I’m sure you want to get to your room and freshen up?
Straight down the hall, up the grand staircase to the first floor, take a left and you’ll see number nine at the top of the corridor.
’ Mary picks up my empty glass. ‘Just mind your footing on the last step, it dips in the middle a bit, Terry has to get around to fixing it.’
‘No lift?’ I look at my case, then hear myself. ‘Of course there’s no lift. I’m in a castle for crying out loud! I’ve worked in a New York skyscraper for too many years. Thank you, Mary. I’ll have a million questions, no doubt,’ I say, pulling up the handle on my small red wheelie suitcase.
‘I hope you enjoy your stay and please write a glowing article for us?’ Mary extends her hand and I take it. But she doesn’t release it, instead she pulls my hand to her eyeline and rubs her thumb across my Claddagh ring.
‘I see your heart is taken, so maybe you’d think about marrying here one day?’ she says softly.
‘Oh no, sorry. I washed my hands on the plane and put the ring back on the wrong way round, I keep forgetting the traditions. I just got it,’ I explain.
‘Pity. We’re desperate for more weddings here, you see.’ Mary lowers her voice, scrunches up her face, leans further across the reception desk, but a worried look comes over her apple-like cheeks.
‘Really?’ My ears perk up. I’m going to need some information about Castlemoon for Frederick. ‘I would have thought Castlemoon is booked out all year round for weddings with the folklore of everlasting marriages and all that?’
‘That’s truth, not tale. But no, this is our only wedding this month.’ Mary stands up slowly and lifts the hatch, walks out from behind the desk, again very slowly.
‘You’re kidding?’ I cannot believe it. One wedding!
‘Wish I was. It’s getting more and more expensive to run the weddings.
The costs to heat the Heart Ballroom are astronomical, never mind the whole castle!
The roof is rotten. We paid some cowboys to fix it and they ran off with the money!
Now all the heat just escapes. We’ve buckets all over the pace when it rains .
. . the chimney breast is cracking too in the Sweet Orange Room.
The windows need replacing in half the bedrooms and so much air gets in that we can’t sell them to guests on these cold dark winter nights.
’ Mary leans closer to me, her voice a whisper as she holds her index finger near her lips.
‘That large crack in the fireplace in the Sweet Orange Room is spreading. The place is leaking money, literally, that’s why I thought it’d be good to let you come and do the magazine piece.
I was the only one who wanted you here, truth be told.
We’ve always said no in the past. We’re not big into that kinda thing.
We’re more lowkey. We’ve had a few TV production companies wanting to film in here and we refused.
’ Mary’s eyes dart up as the woman with the cane from a moment ago passes the desk again.
‘You need any help, Mrs Geraghty?’
‘I’m okay thanks, Mary. Dan has saved me the trouble of going into the village to get my few presents and the boys are coming to see me later. He’s so kind.’ The woman looks frail as she slowly sits into a chair by the fire.
‘That’s good. You relax there, I’ll bring you some tea and biscuits,’ Mary calls over to her. ‘She’s a regular Christmas guest. Dan is very good to her. But like I was saying, we’re getting desperate,’ Mary tells me sniffing the air again, moving on.
‘I’m so sorry to hear all this. It’s just the most magical place.’ I have to ask as I follow her, pulling my case behind me, ‘So I guess that’s why they are selling it?’
Mary stops dead. She stands bolt upright and pales, like she’s just seen a ghost.
‘Selling it? Oh, good grief, no! The castle is not for sale, lovey! Why did you think that?’ Mary eyeballs me, her hand clutching her neck like she’s just heard something dreadful.
‘I – oh, I’m not sure. I-I thought I heard . . .’ Again, I feel my face flush. Just as I suspected, the manager doesn’t know Castlemoon is about to be sold in a few days’ time! What on earth is going on? And why do I suddenly feel like I’m in the middle of something I shouldn’t be?
‘Hear what now?’ Mary stands closer to me in her soft plimsoles.
‘I-I heard about . . . when you said the Rolls-Royce was for sale . . . I thought everything was for sale,’ I bluff for my life.
‘No, no, no.’ Relief spreads like warm butter across Mary’s face.
‘There’s a nasty rumour spreading like wildfire around Heartwell, I just thought you’d got wind of it.
There’s always something we’re selling here – paintings, cars, furniture – because there is always stuff for Terry to fix and maintain.
You see we’ve a tiny staff but let me tell you something, Castlemoon means the world to Heartwell village and our people, it’s as much a part of our history as our own children are.
Take me for example, I started here a long time ago when it was run by the parents, met my husband, JP, here – he’s a carpenter – we spent all our Christmases here with the five kiddies when they were small.
It has my heart and all my best memories.
Let me tell you, if it wasn’t taken on—’
The phone shrills out on the desk. ‘Excuse me.’ Mary potters back to the desk, picks up the receiver and in a grander voice than the one she’s been using to chat to me sings, ‘Guuud evening, thank you for cauuulling Costlemoooon, please houuuuuld.’
Mary puts her palm across the receiver. ‘Don’t write about any of that now, lovey.
I told you all that in confidence, they all say I’m a bit of a blabber mouth.
’ But she chuckles. ‘We still put on the greatest weddings in the county. Get some Americans over for us? Why don’t you pop inside to Aisling and Aaron’s afters later and see for yourself?
’ Mary puts the receiver back to her ear.
Mary is going to be a brilliant source to quote for my article.
But I’m utterly confused about this sale.
I need to talk to Frederick. I mean is he aware of the extent of the work that needs doing?
A new roof, the cracked fireplace that’s spreading, the draughty bedroom windows?
Most worryingly, so few wedding bookings?
Surely weddings are the hotel’s best income?
Is this what he’s expecting me to report on?
This is a far different job than I’d thought.
That sense that I’m doing something wrong creeps through me again.
I didn’t sign up for this and I’m going to email Frederick as soon as I get into my room to tell him that.
I need to find out exactly what people around here know and what they don’t.