Chapter Thirteen
Nick drove off the ferry and onto the land of her father. The crossing had been abysmal, so the fact that it was solid ground was enough for her to feel a sense of gratitude, as well as an affinity for her father’s birthplace.
The drive to Pembroke had been surprisingly enjoyable. She had picked up a student hitch-hiking back to Wales – the girl had been standing in the rain on the forecourt of a garage, with a backpack by her legs. As Nick had filled the tank of her hire car, she watched the girl refuse the offer of a couple of lifts, despite the rain. The girl was clearly fussy, and so she should be, thought Nick. She was all for men being responsible for their actions, and felt that women should not be afraid for their safety wherever they walked, or whatever they wore – but still, the world was cruel and unfair.
As she watched, she had a brainwave: the two women could help each other out. She would get her safely to Wales and in return the student could take care of the dog. She put the proposal to the hitch-hiker, whose name was Zara; who immediately agreed, and the five-hour drive passed in no time. They stopped regularly to let Miss Gableforth out and avoided all accidents, Nick had discovered that she was already pretty well house-trained, the accident in the office had been a one off. The little dog thought the whole thing was a massive adventure and would keep tripping over her feet or ears as she tried to sniff all the new smells. Having dropped Zara off, she drove on to the ferry, grabbed a bite of food from the restaurant, then headed to her cabin. The boat was already swaying in the port and she had had a feeling that the crossing was going to be a rough one.
Now as she drove down the ramps and clanked onto the floodlit docks, she decided to watch out for another hitch-hiker and found a girl with a sign for Cork. Exactly where she was going.
Carrie had blown all her savings to go to a gig in England. The craic apparently had been on! It took a while for Nick to get used to the girl’s strong accent as she chatted away about the acts she had seen and the mates she had made and how her friends back at school would be fierce jealous. When Nick realised Carrie was still at school she nearly freaked.
‘What did your folks say?’
‘Sure I told them I was going off on a Geography trip with the school.’ And she laughed her head off, waking the little dog. Nick just carried on driving in silence, she didn’t want to judge, plus if she was honest she envied the girl her freedom.
‘So where are you heading to yerself?’
Once Nick had worked out the sentence, she told the girl about Ballinfeen Hotel.
‘Is that the fancy place on the island? Mam says they should get an Oscar for how well they fleece people.’
And then she laughed again and apologised. ‘I’m sure it’s lovely and all that. Plus they do have an awesome reputation for family research or so Mr Houlihan said, he’s our history teacher. We went there once for a school field trip. I think they were trying to reach out to local schools.’ She paused reflectively. ‘Although the way I heard it, they stopped doing it after our visit, so I’m told. It’s a dead boring place but you might like it yourself. There’s the big old hotel that was once a convent, then there’s the family history buildings, a total yawn fest if you ask me, and then a few other houses and then nothing except for the island itself. We nipped out for a bit of a swim but there was some awful shouting when we snuck back in and accidentally started dripping on the microfiche. Mary Mac had said she would pack the towels, but you know Mary, she forgot, she’s some gowl, so the three of us couldn’t get our hair dry for love nor money.’
Carrie chatted on, entertaining Nick with tales of how Mary Mac screwed things up and how the world was out to spoil Carrie’s life.
‘You know,’ she said with the sudden passion of a seventeen-year-old, ‘you have to take what you want in life. Don’t hurt other people, obviously, but if you see what you want, don’t let anyone say no.’
By the time they reached Cork, the sun had fully risen, and Carrie hopped out at a layby and pointed Nick in the right direction for Ballinfeen.
‘Thanks a mill for the lift now, girl, sound out! Take care of that wee dog now. She’s adorable. And change her name, that one’s ridiculous.’
Nick pulled out her wallet and took out a business card.
‘If you ever find yourself in London and at a loss, give me a call and I’ll give you a job. It’s hard work and I don’t accept slackers. Not interested in laziness or excuses, but if you work hard, you get paid well with plenty of time off to go and do your own thing. Whatever mad thing that will be, Carrie.’
The girl took the card in surprise .
‘I can just see me standing in the middle of the stock market shouting, “Buy! Buy! Sell! Sell!”’
‘As it happens so can I,’ said Nick sardonically, already wondering about her rash decision. ‘But that’s not exactly what we do – you’d probably think it’s terribly boring. But anyway. Keep the card. Even if you don’t want a job, but you need a hand, just shout.’
As she pulled away into the traffic, she watched in her rear-view mirror in amusement. Carrie was already pulling a school blazer out from her bag and slipping a skirt on over her trousers, before removing them and stuffing them in her bag. The lights turned green, and Nick pulled away grinning at the encounter.
Half an hour later, she took a turning for the coast and as the road bent around a corner she could suddenly see miles of coastline. The shoreline was white with small waves and out to sea the dark water looked grey under the cloud-filled sky, but she didn’t think she had seen a more beautiful view. Maybe in sunshine this place would look like a picture postcard. Now it looked like the backdrop to a sweeping historical drama. The shoreline was craggy with fingers of land jutting out into the ocean and the road wove back and forth off into the distance; no doubt her destination was tucked behind one of these inlets. Finally, Nick took a left turn and ahead of her she could see Ballinfeen Island. The road crossed the water towards the island which stood in the shelter of one of the fingers of land.
According to the brochure it wasn’t strictly an island anymore. The road had been built in the seventies for the nuns. The Church felt that at their age they shouldn’t be having to row to shore if the tide caught them out. Eventually, it was time itself that caught them out, and when the last nun retired to a mainland convent and there were no new nuns to the order, the Church sold the little island off.
The tide was in and the hotel was only accessible via the causeway. Across the water Nick could see the road rose up onto the island and a large house was built on the top looking out over the water. As she had approached the island she could see that it was a decent size with several properties on it. At the far end, high above the water’s edge, stood a small whitewashed cottage. She wondered what the Wi-Fi was like.
Nick drove slowly over the causeway. The sensation of travelling across water was wonderful and she wanted to take it all in. She wanted to stop and show Miss Gableforth, but she suspected she wouldn’t care and as there were no passing spaces, and the causeway was only one vehicle wide, she might annoy traffic in all directions. As it was, she could see both ends easily enough and no one was coming but still she decided to drive on. She was aware that Carrie would have stopped and shouted at anyone that told her to move.
Parking her car in the hotel car park, she grabbed her suitcase and the dog’s bag and struggled into the foyer. The wind and rain pulled at her hair and tugged at her open coat, making her wet. She was looking forward to checking in and having a quick stretch and a shower. However, as soon as she entered the hotel foyer she saw she had been pipped to the post by a coach party. Grumbling to herself, she was grateful when a porter offered to store her luggage until she had a room. He also suggested she have a coffee whilst she wait but she was happy just to stand for a bit. Whispering into the bag she assured Miss Gableforth that they would be in their room presently.
Looking around, Nick could see no trace of the former convent, although she wasn’t too sure what that would look like anyway. The large foyer was carpeted, with several sofas to one side surrounding a currently empty fireplace. Two giant, hairy-looking dogs lounged in front of it, dead to the world. The walls were hung with oil paintings of beautiful seascapes and there were also lots of coats of arms and family trees with swirly handwriting and red wax stamps. On the other side of the large room was the customary reception counter, currently swamped with the passengers from the coach. Nick smiled as she listened to the familiar rise and fall of Mandarin and braced herself for a wait.
No question was so worthless that it would be asked only once. Sometimes the same question would be asked twice by the same person, more likely everyone would ask the same question, over and over, only happy when the answer had been given to each and every one of them directly.
She put her head down and asked Miss Gableforth to hang on in there. This could take some time.