Artistic Licence (7 page)

Fortunately Thea’s toilet took mere minutes.

‘So sorry, Gerald,’ said Molly as they appeared in the lobby, where he was counting heads for the second time. ‘I am trying hard to be more punctual.’ She glanced at Thea, managing to imply it was her fault.

‘Well,’ said Gerald, following her glance, ‘I think we can agree that the effect was worth the wait.’

Thea smiled stiffly back at him, grateful that they would be going home the next day.

Derek wasn’t waiting in the arrivals bit of the airport so Molly rang him on his mobile with hers. ‘Oh. You’re just parking the car? Well, thank goodness for that, I hate waiting around to be collected.’ She punched in another number. ‘Traffic, he says,’ she told Thea as if she didn’t believe his story. ‘I’m just ringing my sister to see if there’s any news.’

Thea smiled at departing Tiger Tourers as they made their way to their separate destinations. In spite of Molly she had really enjoyed Aix-en-Provence and didn’t look forward to returning to winter, a house full of students and a boring part-time job.

Still short of sleep, she tuned out the bustle of the airport and let herself indulge in a little daydreaming, of Provençal sunshine and a certain lunch in a certain
place
in the company of a certain Irishman.

‘Oh, my God!’ said Molly, ending her call to her sister. ‘You’ll never believe it! Your lodgers have had a party and they’ve left the place in a terrible state apparently. It’s like that advert for Yellow Pages.’

‘Damn! They didn’t say anything about having a party when I rang the other night.’

‘You’d better ring them, find out what’s going on. Poor you, it sounds
dreadful
. A lot of gatecrashers got in and there’s vomit all up the stairs.’

Thea hadn’t been looking forward to going home anyway; now the prospect seemed utterly dismal.

Molly tried to press her mobile phone into Thea’s hand. ‘Better to find out now than be greeted with a horrible surprise. It’s going to take you ages to clear it
up. Apparently you might have to have the whole house redecorated. And, Petal says, the washing machine’s broken down. It’s so awful for you, I’m so sorry. What a thing to go back to.’ She wiggled the telephone helpfully, urging her to use it. ‘I know a firm of professional cleaners you could use. They’d only cost a couple of hundred pounds.’

Thea regarded Molly and all her previous indecisiveness fell away. She no longer felt like a sleepy sheep, following dozily along, obedient to every instruction to look up, or look down. Her way ahead seemed clear. It was obvious what she should do. ‘Actually, Molly, I’m not going back. I’ve changed my mind. I’m not returning to a trashed house and a broken-down washing machine – the lodgers can sort it out for themselves. I’m going to extend my holiday a bit.’

‘What?’ Molly was stunned. ‘But how can you do that? How can you know your house is in a state and not do anything about it? Besides, you can’t let Petal live in a house without a washing machine. I’m not sure it’s even hygienic’

‘They can die of salmonella for all I care. It’s
their
fault; they had the party. It’s
their
gatecrashers who vomited up the stairs,
they
can fork out the two hundred quid for the professional cleaners. Why the hell should I do it?’

Molly gawped.

‘Look, I know Cyril’s going to Stansted, I’ll go with him.
You
tell Petal to organise the cleaners, or do it herself. You can also tell her she can either ring up the repair man herself, or learn to use the launderette!’

Regretting only the paper carrier filled with dried
lavender she’d bought in the market, which she gave to Molly, Thea picked up her other bags and ran after the elderly veteran of ten Tiger Tours. She reached him just as he disappeared through some sliding doors. She glanced back to see that Derek had now arrived, and that Molly was pointing in her direction, open-mouthed and horrified. ‘Cyril! Hello. It’s me. Thea? Are you going to Stansted? Can I come with you?’

At the airport, having left Cyril’s comforting company, Thea was forced to face up to her impetuousness. Certain that she would live to regret it, she went to find out about flights. There was no point in ringing Rory until she knew she could actually get there.

It was surprisingly easy. By some fluke she had reached the airport a couple of hours before the flight was due. There was a ticket available and she could get there in daylight. It must be meant, she told herself. I must be meant to run away from my wrecked house and my responsibilities. It’s written in the stars that I should have a wild affair.

She rang Rory with a dry mouth. It might not be written in his stars. ‘It’s Thea, we met in France?’

‘Oh, Thea, yes. Nice to hear you.’

At least he sounded as if he remembered her. ‘You invited me to stay?’ She must be mad! Rushing across the Irish Sea to stay with someone she’d only known a couple of hours.

‘And you’ve changed your mind? You’re coming?’

‘Yes, if you’re sure you don’t mind.’

‘I’ll kill the fatted calf and put out the red carpet for you.’

Relief caused sweat to bead her forehead. ‘It would
be better if you met me at the airport. Is it miles from where you live?’

‘Not at all, I told you. Only about an hour. What time do you get in?’

Elated, she ran to buy a ticket, high on the excitement her impulse had created. As long as her credit card had some credit on it all would be well. To have to crawl home now would be the most dreadful anticlimax, not to mention humiliation – Molly would have a field day.

The smiling, bright-eyed Irish girl who sold her a ticket seemed a good omen. The card cleared, the ticket was handed over, and Thea fairly skipped off to the shops to buy some extra pants and socks. She then spent a long time in the Ladies washing all parts of her uncovered by clothes, wondering if she could wash her hair and dry it under the hand dryer. A girl did like to look her best, especially when she was chasing a younger man.

Taking a chance that her card would hold out for one last purchase, she dithered between buying Rory a bottle of cognac, to remind him of Provence, or a bottle of Paddy Irish Whiskey. She settled on the whiskey because it was cheaper, then bought some film and the latest Jilly Cooper for herself. Then, as clean and calm as possible, given that she was running away from home, she settled down to wait for her flight.

Chapter Four

Rory was standing at the arrivals gate. When he saw Thea, he opened his arms. Good manners insisted that Thea go into them and receive a very hearty kiss on what was nearly her mouth. She wasn’t entirely reluctant. He was even more good-looking and attractive than she remembered.

‘Jaysus, Thea, it’s good to see you. What changed your mind?’ he asked, picking up her bags and tucking them under his arm.

‘My bossy friend Molly.’

He dropped the bags. 
I don’t believe you! She never said “my advice to you is to run away with that handsome Irishman who knows so much about Cézanne".’

Thea laughed delightedly. ‘No, she didn’t. She rang her sister and found out that there’d been a wild party, with gatecrashers, at my house while I’d been away and told me I’d have to get professionals in to clean it up. Her husband hadn’t arrived yet, so I decided to make a run for it.’ Thea paused. ‘I am so glad to see you, Rory. You’re never quite sure if people mean those invitations issued on holiday.’

He made a horrified face. ‘I wasn’t on holiday. It was the hardest work I’ve ever done, trying to be exciting about Cézanne, watching them close their eyes and nod
off, one by one.’ Then he gave her another kiss, this time definitely on her mouth, and although it was certainly pleasant, she did wonder if it meant he expected rather more than she was prepared to give on such brief acquaintance. Running away from home was one thing, but she didn’t want to leap into bed with Rory before she’d had time to get to know him. Her morals were a lot harder to leave behind than her lodgers.

Seeing her doubts, he laughed. ‘Is this all the baggage you’ve got with you? Never mind, you can borrow my clothes if you need to. The car’s this way.’

As she followed him to the car park, it occurred to Thea, somewhat belatedly, that the clothes she had thought suitable for a week in Provence were unlikely to be the right sort of gear for the west of Ireland. She snuggled into her fleece as he opened the door of a very battered Land Rover.

‘Climb in. It’s a mess, I’m afraid, but it’s a good workhorse. The track down to the house is quite steep and this can do it in most weathers.’

‘Do you get a lot of snow here?’ It felt to Thea as if snow were imminent, with grey clouds tossing across the sky and flurries of icy rain throwing themselves at her from time to time.

‘Not snow, hardly at all, we’re too far west, but plenty of rain.’ He slammed the door of the boot behind her luggage and walked round to the driver’s side. ‘It’s what gives us the forty shades of green, after all.’

The Land Rover, for all its noisiness, had a very efficient heater, which blew hot air at her like a hairdryer and as the scenery became pretty, she began
to feel better. She only had to stay with Rory for a week or so for the sake of her grand gesture and in the meantime she could just enjoy herself. She had never been to Ireland before.

‘Mayo’s mostly famous for Clew Bay and Croagh Patrick. It’s a mountain which looks uncannily like a slag heap, but one day a year it’s a place of pilgrimage and people walk up it, some of them in bare feet.’ He smiled. ‘If you look down to the left as we reach the top of this hill you’ll see the bay.’

She looked. The sun, which had been sulking, suddenly pierced the cloud base, turning the sea to silver and tingeing the distant islands with gold. The beauty of it made her catch her breath. Part of her longed to photograph it, but mostly she just wanted to look, take it in and remember it. She sighed so deeply it became a yawn.

Rory glanced at her. ‘You must be tired. But we’re nearly there now. When you’ve got settled and had a drink, you’ll feel better.’

‘I am a bit worn out. It was an early start this morning and I haven’t been sleeping well.’

‘That Molly snored, did she?’

‘I didn’t tell you that, did I? How dreadfully disloyal.’

‘I just guessed. Well, you’ve a choice of two bedrooms’ – he shot her a look – ‘not including mine. You can choose which one you like best.’

‘How kind.’ Was he tactfully telling her that his bedroom wasn’t an option for her, or that she had plenty of choice without having to sleep with him? She suddenly wished for a more misspent youth; she might be better at the subtext. As it was, the social
niceties of running away with a man you didn’t know were pretty much a mystery to her.

‘Well.’ He grinned at her. ‘You won’t be wanting to jump into bed with me until you’ve had a chance to check out how often I take a bath, or if I snore worse than Molly and things like that. Will you?’

His grin, his sympathetic understanding and the fact that the world was now tinged with pink and gold from the setting sun made her feel her mad impulse was justified.

It was a cottage more than a house, almost on top of the beach. A long green lane ran down to where it hugged the ground, long and low with white walls, grey slate roof and a blue front door. She stood in the garden, looking at a gate framed by two thick, tall bushes, through which she could see the beach and the silver sea.

‘The view’s even better from my studio, on the hill up there.’

‘I can see why you would want to live here. It’s so beautiful.’

‘Come inside. It’s too chilly to be admiring the view from out here, when you get just as good a one from the kitchen window.’

They were greeted by a huge, deep barking.

‘Enough to put the fear of God into you,’ said Rory. ‘But she’s a sweet thing, really. Ready to have puppies any day now.’

He opened the front door and a dog the size of a small sofa tottered out, unable to jump up because of her huge bulk. She was definitely smiling and greeted Thea with just as much enthusiasm as Rory.

‘This is Lara. She’s an English mastiff. You get to know her while I get your bags out of the back.’

Thea cuddled the dog as best she could. ‘Are the puppies English mastiffs too?’

‘I doubt it. We’ve no idea what the puppies are going to be until we see them. Probably half-collie, although there was something that got in through the cat flap. Come on, let’s get you inside.’

The front door opened straight into the sitting room, which was wide and high, with a curved ceiling like a boathouse. There was a fireplace in which a turf fire smouldered in a welcoming manner, and bits of boat and fishing tackle hung on hooks high up, out of the way. There was no wall between the kitchen and the main room, so it had a feeling of space and light. There were windows on three sides.

‘Now,’ said Rory, when Thea had stared about her, taking in the pictures, the charts pinned on the wall, and the glass fishing floats and bits of driftwood which were scattered about. ‘Would you like a cup of tea or a glass of whiskey, or both? I recommend both.’

Thea laughed. ‘Both sounds greedy, but lovely.’