Chapter 16 #2
Perhaps because the funeral had been condensed so much, she’d been taken aback by the turnout after the mass and burial.
The hotel, when she arrived back from the graveyard, was thronged, walking through the front door alone took almost ten minutes as she negotiated handshakes and condolences from familiar faces from across the island and many who had travelled over from the mainland.
Strangely, Blythe found herself searching the crowd for Kip.
Although it was completely pointless, he’d already rung her from South Africa.
There was no way he could make it back in time, but they’d spent so long on the phone, the operator had cut them off twice – fearing the Irish team would not cover the charges.
If he was here now, she knew he’d stand head and shoulders higher than anyone else in the foyer.
She took a long deep breath, just thinking about him calmed her in some weird way.
It was when she reached the bar that she spotted the one familiar face she never imagined she’d see again.
Marcus Johnson.
He was standing next to the staircase, holding a cup of tea and chatting to her grandfather as if they’d known each other their whole lives. Blythe found herself doing a double take, rubbing her eyes to make sure it was not some cruel mirage – an oasis of familiarity in this desert of grief.
‘Hey,’ he reached towards her, pulled her close and kissed her cheek when she approached them.
She breathed in the taste of cologne from his body, noticed that his suit looked expensive, his tie was pinned with what looked like a French rotary tie clip.
He was every bit the successful hotel manager she’d always known he’d become once he got his degree.
She felt that familiar stab of regret, that she’d never had the chance to finish up properly.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ All the basic conversational skills had deserted her.
She put her hand to her hair, regretted not having taken the time to get it done before the funeral.
She felt acutely the fact that she was bedraggled and washed out, having stood in the wind and watched as her mother’s grave was covered over with earth, until at last, she could tear herself away.
At some level, she knew she must be still standing there with an awestruck expression on her face.
She only just remembered to close her mouth and not fire a dozen hot and heavy questions at him, by some miraculous surge of personal reserve.
‘Well, that’s a nice how do you do, indeed,’ her grandfather laughed at her surprise.
‘I was just telling Jack.’ He stopped, smiled at the old man and Blythe wondered at the familiarity that seemed to have sprung up between them so quickly.
‘I’ve just returned from overseas and taken a job in that new five-star hotel in Galway.
One of the chefs there told me about your mother.
I’m so sorry, Blythe, truly sorry.’ He shook her hand again and she realised that his appearance had made her forget for those few moments exactly why they were all gathered here.
‘She hadn’t been well, you know, since…’ There was no point going into it all now, so much had happened since that last time she’d seen him, when he left her standing there to go back into the flat on her own.
And then, he’d never called her. She’d disappeared from her life in Dublin, and there had been nothing.
Not a card or a call when her father died, not so much as a whisper from him after that day.
She’d forgotten that, as the years had passed, only thinking of how crazy she had been for him, once.
‘I was telling Marcus about the accident and how things were here, with all of us and the great job you’ve been doing, helping out here in the hotel,’ her grandfather said, and somehow the words stung, because she didn’t see herself as helping out – she saw herself as running the place.
‘It’s been busy, alright.’ She brushed it off as if it meant nothing.
‘You should think about maybe taking on more help. Blythe told me all about the hotel, of course, but I didn’t imagine it would be quite so charming.’ Marcus turned his full attention to Jack now.
‘You’d be surprised how many youngsters can’t wait to get away from the island, it’s damn near impossible to take on staff who’ll stick with it for any length of time.’ Jack shook his head ruefully. ‘Thankfully, Blythe seems content to stick around.’
‘Ah well, she has the place in her bones at this stage, I suppose.’ Marcus smiled at her and there it was, still that effect he’d always had on her. Back then, she thought it was love, maybe she’d always been out of her depth with him.
‘I love it, that’s the truth of it. And I have great plans for the place.’
‘Ah hush now,’ Jack put his hand on her arm.
‘Sure, today’s not the day to be thinking of plans,’ he said in that way he always did when he didn’t want to entertain any changes she might suggest. For all he praised her and depended on her, she knew he still saw her as just a girl.
She hadn’t fully grown up in his eyes. When would he trust her to take over the hotel?
He shook his head, sharing a look with Marcus, as if they understood each other.
Then, he picked up two glasses of brandy from a passing tray, handed one to Marcus and took one for himself, turning his back on her as he did so.
Suddenly, Blythe felt as if they had dismissed her.
She stood stock still for a moment, utterly alone in a room full of people there to support her.
Ridiculous. She was just upset, sensitive to every little thing, she raised her head and tried to fix something close to a smile to her lips before moving to thank the many other people who’d come to pay their condolences.