Chapter 15 #3
‘You are something else,’ he said, as I rested on his lust sheened chest.
When my trembling legs had recovered long enough to stand, I glanced around the room for the nearest bathroom. There were two doors aside from the one we had entered through. He pointed to the left-hand door. ‘Bathroom.’
‘What’s behind the other door?’
‘Open it and see.’
I opened it cautiously, unsure what to expect. Shelf upon empty shelf stood in front of me. To the right side were several rails for clothes. It was a walk-in wardrobe and his clothes only took up a mere quarter of the space available.
I had no idea his house would be like this.
I expected a crumbling, but quaint cottage with mountains of character, low ceilings and wooden beams. More cosy, less extravagant.
I don’t know why. All the talking we had done beforehand, so many nights on the phone until the early hours of the morning, he never mentioned his house was like something out of a magazine. He was so understated in every way.
‘Come with me.’ He led me to an en-suite with twin sinks and jacuzzi bath tub.
The shower stood freely in the corner. He turned the mood lighting to a lilac setting and pulled me in under the warm running water, lathering my body with soap, massaging my shoulders as he washed me.
The heat and his touch were better than any professional massage I’d experienced before.
It was absolute bliss, a million miles from the real world. His firm hands kneaded my naked skin.
‘Jeez, and I thought you were a mere Audi wanker. Turns out you’re the house version as well.’
He laughed. ‘I suppose it’s not something you could explain without sounding like a complete prick. I know it’s special. I built it with the hope of a family in mind. I just didn’t meet anyone suitable. Until now.’ He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye to gauge my reaction.
‘Beautiful house or not, you still didn’t find anyone suitable. Have you forgotten I’m a city slicker and you’re a country bumpkin?’ I stuck my tongue out at him in jest. We really were worlds apart in a lot of ways, despite how I felt about him.
‘Let’s finish the tour and you can make your mind up when you’ve got the full picture.’ He wrapped a towel around me and fetched another for himself.
‘I thought we’d finished the tour with the grand finale there?’ I teased.
‘You haven’t been outside yet.’ He looked at the white jeans I was pulling back on. ‘Have you anything darker with you?’
‘In my case, in the car.’ He left to get it, leaving me alone in his bedroom.
When he returned, I hung my weekend clothes in his wardrobe and pulled on my dark new jeans, flat brown leather boots and the white shirt.
‘Better?’ I looked down at my attire for confirmation.
‘You look great. I’ll give you one of my jackets.
That should keep your shirt clean. And if you like those boots, I’d change them, they might look a little more practical than the skyscrapers, but they’re going to get filthy out there.
’ He winked at me before continuing. ‘I was prepared, even if you weren’t.
I bought you a present.’ He seemed delighted with himself as he led me downstairs and back through the kitchen and out into a utility room that I didn’t realise existed.
A large box sat on the worktop, wrapped in pink tissue paper.
‘What is it?’ I absolutely loathed surprises, the secret control freak that I was. ‘Open it and see. It won’t bite.’
I unwrapped the packaging and pulled the lid off what looked like a giant shoe box. Inside were a pair of baby pink Hunter wellies. In a size six. OMG. I couldn’t wait to tell the girls; they would wet themselves laughing. The funny thing was, I actually loved them.
‘How did you know my size?’ I asked in surprise.
‘I asked Clara,’ he said simply.
They fit like a glove and were surprisingly comfortable. He handed me a waterproof jacket which was about four sizes too big for me, and we set off out the back door crossing the field.
A whip in the wind hinted at autumns impending arrival.
We headed towards the beach at first; the grass turned to rock as we got closer.
John held me tightly as I negotiated the few steps down to the rocky sand.
The scent of the beach was oddly familiar, taking me back to my childhood days as if it were yesterday.
‘This is unbelievable. Your own private beach. Does it ever get busy?’ I asked him.
‘Honestly? We rarely get the weather for it to be busy, and there are only a few points you can get down to this part of the beach. Mainly it’s just used by Trisha and Jane.’
‘Who is Jane?’
‘She’s going to be your other best friend,’ he informed me with a small smile. ‘She lives in the first house, next door to Trisha. She’s a Guard.’
‘A guard of what?’
A long rumbling laugh escaped his chest. ‘A policewoman, I think, is the term you would use to describe her. You know, blue flashing lights and handcuffs etc? She’s from Donegal.
She’s the only Guard that goes into work with a full face of make-up.
She wouldn’t look out of place in a nightclub, bar the uniform of course. ’ He grinned.
‘I like her already.’ She sounded like someone I could relate to. I went to work with a full face of make-up on, despite the fact most of my face was covered with a mask. And if she was anything like Trisha, I knew we’d become great friends.
‘Her husband’s also a Guard. His home house is only a mile away from here.’
‘You mean his parents’ house?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Gosh, imagine living only a mile from where you grew up. I can’t imagine living on the Isle of Wight now, bumping into people I went to school with and seeing the same faces day in and day out.’
‘Lucy, it’s the same for me too. My parents live a stone’s throw away from here, just around the next corner.
For a lot of us, it’s the complete opposite.
We couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t live in my parents’ pockets; sometimes weeks pass by before I get a chance to visit them properly, depending on how busy I am here, but I honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.
There’s a lot to be said for living in a small community,’ he insisted.
We’d have to agree to disagree on this one. ‘There’s also a lot to be said for living in a city; culture, variety, opportunity.’
‘True. But everyone has to lay their hat down somewhere,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I’d prefer to do it somewhere I know people. If I ran into a bit of bother, whatever it may be, you can guarantee that in this place I’d know someone that could help me. There’s a lot of comfort in it.’
I couldn’t imagine it. I hated the thought of every mistake I’d ever made being right on my doorstep, the entire town knowing everything about me.
We stared at the ocean once again, both lost in our own thoughts. I felt lightyears away from my past.
John had been right about one thing. Nobody would ever find me here. It was so remote.
He led me towards the animals, where I was surprised to see a man and a teenage boy with the cattle.
‘This is Hugh and his son, Sam. He works on the farm with me. This is Lucy,’ John said, while I shook both their hands.
‘Ah, the infamous Lucy,’ Hugh said knowingly. ‘We’ve all been waiting to meet you.’
‘So I keep hearing.’ I turned to John accusingly, but he blatantly pretended not to hear us, despite the fact he was less than a foot away.
‘Well, what do you think of the place?’ Hugh asked, chewing a bit of straw.
‘It’s absolutely beautiful.’
‘It surely is. There’s no place like it. We’ll make a good Mayo woman out of you yet.’ He smiled and turned his attention back to the animals.
‘We’ll see you later, no doubt,’ John called over his shoulder as we headed towards the barn. It turned out the barn wasn’t actually a barn. As we got closer, I could see the stables and four fine big horses in their paddocks.
‘Did you ever ride?’
‘No. I wish.’ I had wanted to when I was younger, but my mum was such a worrywart she thought I’d fall off.
‘I’ll teach you,’ he promised, stroking the horses affectionately. ‘This is Maisy. She’s a thoroughbred.’
I nodded like I knew what that meant and we continued the tour. There were hens and geese as well. Apparently, they laid the best eggs I’d ever taste. John brought me into what I thought was a shed, but it actually looked more like a work shop.
‘This is where the real work gets done.’ He gestured at numerous antique-looking pieces around him. There were vases and pictures and furniture and all sorts of objects I didn’t recognise.
‘What is this place?’
‘This is where we make the money,’ he said gratefully.
‘I thought you were a dairy farmer?’
‘I am. I was. Since things took off with the antiques a few years ago, I had to get some help in.’ He referred to Hugh and Sam. ‘I didn’t expect it to go so well, but business is booming. I have an excellent eye for detail.’ He looked at me suggestively.
‘Oh, you do, do you? An excellent eye may be one thing, but a reluctant tongue is another. You never mentioned any of this to me.’ I thought we’d talked about everything; I couldn’t understand why he didn’t tell me about any of it. I shared everything with him.
‘I was going to tell you. I didn’t want to bore the pants off you before you even got here. Antiques aren’t riveting to most people. It started off as a hobby but it turned out to be a lot more.’
I noticed a laptop on an old mahogany desk in the corner and realised it looked familiar to me. This is where he did his FaceTiming from. No wonder I expected a quaint crumbly cottage with wooden beams.
‘Most of the business is done online, but I could be in Dublin twice a week sometimes.’ It made sense, his ease in the city and the car and house.
Why he didn’t tell me? Not that it mattered, but it was such an impressive achievement. He was obviously good at what he did. He should be proud.