Chapter 69
69
Was that a car I heard? I stopped typing in order to listen.
“Finally!” Lenehan exhaled with relief.
Peering out of the office window, I saw the carload of four bump their way down the track, heading for the main road. “C’mon!”
Gathering our cleaning stuff, Lenehan and I hurried over to the Airbnb, where I speedily stripped the beds and he started on the kitchen. The countdown was on because another lot was due in three hours. Now we were into July, Brigit’s Airbnb was booked back to back for eight weeks.
Flinging open windows, scrubbing the bath, mopping the tiles, it was fast, physically demanding work. After two hours of sweeping, polishing and emptying bins, then smoothing fresh towels, topping up coffee pods and placing a basket of Steve’s scones on the kitchen table, the little house was finally ready.
Lenehan, his hair damp with sweat, took a moment to survey our achievements. “Legends, the pair of us. Onwards.”
Back in the office I started again with my emails. I was variously: negotiating rates and quantities with a high-end wine company; trying to source well-seasoned logs for our wood-burning stoves; and wooing semi-celebrity yoga instructors. We were still about eight months out from the resort opening but every single one of these details, plus countless others, needed to be nailed down.
It was definitely work, but nothing like as stressful as my job with Ariella. And! I had a— tiny —side hustle. Teagan was creating her own skincare range. Its USP was seaweed, a “powerful humectant,” she told me, with great earnestness.
The three prototypes—day cream, night cream and serum—weren’t bad.
“Any notes?” she asked.
“The smell.” It was ferocious. “The seaweed has to be dialed way down. Sorry.”
“All right, back to the lab. By which I mean Grinner’s kitchen…Would you like to help?”
Surprising myself, I said, “Why don’t you come over to mine and we’ll do it there?”
It was so much fun. Teagan would arrive with a box filled with oils, nut butters, artificial fragrances and steadily reducing amounts of seaweed and we’d play around with them.
—
“Sweet-face Walsh, happy birthday to you!” Farrelly the Flowers was at my door, two bouquets in his arms.
Without waiting for an invitation, he strode confidently into the kitchen. “These”—he set one bunch on the table—“are from the Mahon family, paid on Tipper’s Mastercard, fyi. Just in case you were thinking it was only Hal and the mammy. These are courtesy of Gannon’s Pharmacy. I hadn’t heard you were a big spender in there?”
“I’m not. Just my HRT every month.”
It was gratifying to see a whisper of mortification cross his face. The nosy article was usually unshameable. “…Ah, right! I’ve more stuff out in the van. But nothing at all from the go-boy.”
I hadn’t expected anything but, still, my stomach flopped.
“Had ye a falling-out?” he asked. “Lover’s tiff, is it?”
“We were never lovers, so no.”
“Weren’t ye?” A pursed mouth, an assessing frown. “I had it wrong, so. All wrong. You know, you’re looking great for a woman of forty-nine. Are you still getting the Botox?”
“Yep.” I’d found a dentist’s office in Galway where, once a month, a GP did cut-price jabs. I wasn’t ready, not just yet, to let go of that.
Farrelly headed back to the van, reappearing with several orchids and other sundries, which he arrayed on the table. “The white orchid is from Ferne and Rionna,” he said. “The yellow is from Pamela and Glen ‘Custard Cream’—another of your private jokes, is it? The purple is courtesy of ‘all’ at the hardware place, I don’t know why they say ‘all,’ it’s only Ralph and young Ziryan, but I’m just the messenger boy. The pink prosecco is from Aber Skerett, the box of Lily O’Brien’s comes with ‘love and best wishes’ from Peadar Brady and the boys. And this fine teddy bear is from…my good self! Many happy returns of the day, Sweet-face Walsh. Will we see you down the town later?”
“You will. With Jacqui and most of my sisters.”
“?‘Most’? Who’s snubbing you? The tall colleen with the coat? Lenehan Kearney’s mother-in-law-to-be?”
“That’s the one.”
“Is young Helen expected?” Farrelly asked. “She’s a funny character. And the babeen is coming too? Lovely hurling.”