Chapter 16 #2
‘It certainly seems that way to me. I’ll be right back,’ I tell them as I find the plates and the salt and vinegar.
Peeling back the tinfoil, I inhale the incredible aroma of fresh cod in a golden crispy batter and thickly cut chips with the skin still on.
I plate up their lunches, planning to get myself this dish before I leave.
‘Only salt on my fish, please. Mind your nice clothes,’ Esther warns me as some salt I’ve sprinkled ends up on my trousers.
‘Gráinne normally butters me a few slices of white bread?’ Michael points the end of his pipe towards the sideboard.
‘She does not, Michael, ya big liar, ya! He’s a dicky ticker, needs to watch his cholesterol.
I don’t want to end up a young widow.’ The two of them crack up laughing, then when I place the plates in front of them, they tuck into their lunch.
I just sit quietly, feeling very lucky I’m getting to meet these two people and trying desperately to forget about Dan Delaney.
‘Ask away as we chomp.’ Michael pops a chip into his mouth, chews slowly.
‘So you’ve been married for sixty years. You got married at Castlemoon, do you both believe that the castle holds some kind of magic, that a marriage celebrated there lasts a lifetime? That your marriage lasted because of it?’ I look from one to the other.
‘’Tis an unbreakable bond,’ Michael tells me.
‘The unbreakable bond under the castle roof is as real as this table.’ Esther knocks on the hard wood.
‘This woman came to me when I needed her most. I wasn’t looking for love, I was looking for someone to understand me, to help me, to be my partner and my ally. She was filled with kindness and goodness and I fell in love with her instantly.’ Michael hands her a tissue from his pocket.
‘You are clearly still very much in love,’ I say, feeling a knot in my throat.
‘Never loved one before nor another after,’ Esther says and I notice she’s barely touched her lunch.
‘Esther, please eat, I can come back later?’ I say to her.
‘I try, don’t I, love? But the appetite isn’t good. All the medication I’m on for the cancer makes me feel terrible queasy.’
My heart plummets as my eyes immediately dart to Michael who looks away but not before he puts his hand over hers.
‘What I’d really love, what Gráinne does for me, is to make me a little hot Jemmy?’ Esther links her arthritic fingers together and I notice she too wears a green stone Claddagh ring, but her heart points towards her own heart.
‘A what?’ I ask confused.
‘A Jemmy, a little hot whiskey with cloves. I prefer the Irish drop,’ Esther tells me.
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Where’s the whiskey?’ I stand up, push my chair back and this time the old Labrador barks.
‘Whisht, boy!’ Michael says. ‘Kitchen through there and the Jameson whiskey’s in the glass cabinet next to that New York one he bought in,’ Michael tells me.
‘Shall I make that two Jemmy’s?’ I look back over my shoulder at him as I pat the dog softly. He puts his head back down on his paws, content again on his old threadbare rug.
‘We’d be obliged if you’d made it three and join us?’ Esther says, nibbling on some batter, with a slightly shaking hand.
‘I’d be delighted, I’m not driving.’
As I make my way into the kitchen, I have to compose myself for a second or two.
Esther is ill. It’s too sad to think about.
I only met this couple less than half an hour ago, but there’s something about them that makes me want to protect them.
Locating the bottle of whiskey, I fill the old kettle and set about preparing the drinks.
As I wait for the kettle to boil, my attention is drawn to the fridge.
On the door are old photographs. I look at a large one of a young-looking Esther and Michael, huge happy smiles on their faces, outside Castlemoon with two very small boys, holding each of their hands.
What a place to raise a family, I think.
Heartwell is really getting under my skin.
The kettle clicks off and I make the three drinks and take them back inside.
‘I thought you’d like to see our wedding album,’ Esther says, a large old photo album in plastic open on the table now.
‘I’d love to, and if it’s okay, can I take some photos? Just one of you both here today and maybe I can take a snap of one of your wedding at the castle? I’m going to need you both to sign these releases forms that say you consent to the article and your images being published.’
‘No bother,’ Michael says as I pull out the two forms from my satchel.
‘Do you think people will book a wedding at the castle when they read your magazine?’ he asks, biting on the end of the pen as he awaits my answer, his eyes wide, his fingers long.
‘I really do. It’s a very special place,’ I say truthfully as he nods and makes the sign of the cross.
‘Please God.’
‘So how did you actually meet?’ I don’t want to take up too much of their time so I get ready to type as Esther signs her form slowly. Her hand is wobbling but she’s steady and determined, displaying a dogged strength.
‘I was a cleaner at the castle. My best friend’s mother worked there for years, and she got me in. Have you ever seen Downton Abbey?’
‘Every episode, binged it, loved it.’ I smile.
‘Well, that’s what Castlemoon was like back in the day. The lord and lady lived very well and us less so . . .’
‘Terrible,’ Michael says, tapping his pipe off the table, releasing tobacco, tut-tutting to himself.
‘It really wasn’t, love. They took good care of us, Michael, you were just cut from a different cloth,’ Esther says to her husband as she slides her form towards me.
‘True,’ he concurs.
‘Anyways, I had to go out to work at a young age, I worked in service as a teenager and then His Lordship died and the castle started to fall apart a bit. He was a great man and ran that place like a military operation. Then Her Ladyship met another and she moved to France. Most of the staff left. It left their only son to run the castle and one night I brought in the post, into the Sweet Orange Room. He looked so lonely and sad and desolate, head in his hands sat by the dying fire.’
‘Sure what else would a nineteen-year-old boy with no idea how to keep his father’s family castle running be doing?
’ Michael’s old face lights up so much that, for a brief second, I can see that he must have been incredibly handsome at one time.
‘I was about to give up, until this light stepped into the room. Sent to me from heaven above,’ Michael continues with a break in his voice.
My head jerks up from my MacBook, my fingers hover over the keyboard. The old couple are holding hands again. My head spins. What is he saying? I open my mouth then shut it tightly like any good journalist to let him continue uninterrupted, but Esther takes over.
‘We’d never spoken, believe it or not, he’d been away a lot and I was in the kitchen by then. But I took one look at him that evening, in the Sweet Orange Room all on his own and I said to him, “What’s the matter?”’
‘I took one look at her and I fell in love right there and then. It was how she spoke to me, like I was just a person and not this entitled young man who had inherited a castle.’
I audibly gulp but remain tight-lipped.
‘So, he told me all the problems and I gave him some home truths. I told him he needed to make use of the place, turn the castle into a hotel. Make use of all the empty rooms upstairs, turn them into guest bedrooms and start over.’ Esther coughs now, takes a drink and steadies herself.
‘Music to my ears.’ Michael laughs, but watches his wife closely.
‘This woman here turned my fortunes around. I proposed to her four weeks later on her twentieth birthday. We married in the castle, the very first wedding there, and had two children. She worked like a dog with me to save the castle and together we turned it into a very successful hotel, working side by side seven days a week. A team, through good times and bad.’
‘I loved it. I love that castle. I was penniless when they took me in, and I ended up meeting the love of my life and being the lady of the castle. It was written in the stars. I’ve had a life of blessings and I’m forever grateful to the lord beside me and the Lord above. ’ Esther blesses herself now.
‘So, you owned the castle for how long?’ I can’t believe the story I am getting to write, or these two incredible people in front of me. This is gold, pure gold. No way Amanda isn’t going to love this.
‘Until we stepped away. We retired ten years ago and settled here in my family’s old farmhouse,’ Michael says.
‘I’m sorry, Maggie, I’ve gone a little lightheaded, think I need to have a lie down,’ Esther says, suddenly looking very pale and holding her hand on top of mine.
‘Oh, of course.’ I make sure to press save, close my MacBook and click off the Dictaphone.
‘But you wanted a picture, where do you want us?’ Esther asks me, rising slowly.
‘Where you both are is perfect. It’s all perfect.
It’s a perfect love story.’ I gulp, pull the Canon out, and decide against the ring light.
This couple are authentic and real and I want my story to reflect that.
I know this is probably the greatest love story I am ever going to write about.
I’ve waited all my life to write this story.
‘Smile,’ I say but instead, at the exact same time, they turn to one another and gently kiss.
A lone tear falls from my eye. I can’t help it.
It’s so beautiful. Maybe my ideals about love are shifting.
Maybe when I get back to the city I’ll open myself up more.
Maybe I’ll find a Dan Delaney in New York.
Maybe.