The Matchmaker (21 page)

‘Rob, it’s beautiful,’ she said, standing at the windows overlooking the shore and the rugged Connemara countryside.

‘Thanks.’

They explored the lighthouse and Rob told her his plans: a curving window on each floor that hugged the tower yet gave a view. He intended to put in new lighting, bathroom, kitchen, and a wooden balcony deck that ringed the top viewing area.

‘It sounds amazing Rob,’ she enthused as they wandered around together.

‘I know it sounds grand but I just want it to be comfortable and to make sure that the accommodation lives up to the fantastic setting.’

‘How did you get into this?’ she asked, curious, leaning against the window sill.

‘I told you I was crap at school. In the end I chucked it in when I was sixteen and began working for Johnny Foley the builder, did my apprenticeship with him. He’s Rose’s husband and a cousin of my mother’s.’ He laughed. ‘There wasn’t the building boom there is now and most of the work was local attic conversions and kitchen extensions, along with a few houses. I moved to Dublin for a while, then London. I worked in Ealing and Ipswich on big building sites, then one of my brothers, Gary, moved to Manchester and I followed him. It was construction work, but mostly restoration. Old buildings! It’s easy to knock them and start over but it was bringing them back and adding something fresh to them that got me hooked: barns, factories, warehouses, a station, a firehouse, an old mill. You learn a lot from old buildings. I’m not afraid of hard work and getting stuck in. I signed up for some fancy night course in the local college. It was my first time sitting behind a desk for years. Project Management’s what they call it and I guess it means that when I start something I stick to it right through until it gets finished. I’m not like a contractor who comes on site, does his bit and goes off site. I get to see it from start to finish.’

Anna found herself suddenly filled with admiration. Rob was a country guy, down to earth and honest. He didn’t care about poetry and language and words, his world was timber, stone, earth and water, and buildings that came from another generation. Imagine, he actually owned a lighthouse! It was mad!

‘Dan Regan was the last lighthouse keeper to live here,’ explained Rob, looking through a pile of old charts and newspapers. ‘His grandfather Tim Corry had kept it for years and after that his uncle Liam. The Corrys were raised here, which must have been hard for them as it was actually against the regulations to have a family here. An old cottage up the field was provided for Tim’s wife and children. The place didn’t survive the winter gales and storms so his family moved in here.’

‘I’d imagine it must have been fun for the kids living in a lighthouse!’

‘Lighthouse-keeping is a fierce lonely job,’ he said slowly. ‘Men go mad without women and company. Dan never married. I suppose it’s hard to find a bride to live out in the wilds in a place like this.’

‘It has its attractions,’ she said, staring out across the rugged bare landscape and ocean. She could feel his eyes on her and turned towards him.

‘Loneliness is an awful thing,’ he said fiercely. ‘You can be lonely in the middle of a city, in a small town, surrounded by people you know even. Some people don’t need lighthouses!’

She caught his eye, struck by his intensity and drawn by his honesty. Without thinking she reached up and kissed his cheek, smiling as he ran his fingers over the curve of her cheekbones and face and kissed her lightly on the lips.

They drew apart, both surprised by the mutual sense of attraction between them.

‘Anna,’ he whispered softly, his breath on her hair as he took her hand. They kissed long and slow, again and again, as the seabirds wheeled around the old lighthouse and the sea breeze clipped the ocean.

‘We should go,’ he said a long while later.

She followed him out, watching as he locked the heavy door, Tippy racing ahead of them towards his Land Rover.

‘There’s a great little pub about five miles down the road if you fancy something to eat,’ he suggested. ‘Best seafood and steak outside Roundstone.’

She laughed. ‘That sounds good.’

O’Flaherty’s was quiet, with only two families and about five other people eating, and a few locals sitting up on barstools chatting. They found a table near the fireplace; a log and turf fire smouldered in the grate.

Anna suddenly realized how hungry she was when she read the menu: prawns, crab, lobster, scallops, served with baked or gratin potato. She opted for the prawns tossed in lemon butter and baked potato and salad, while Rob ordered a plate of fish cakes. She had a glass of wine while he ordered a pint.

‘The lighthouse is amazing, Rob, thanks for letting me see inside it.’

‘When the place is done up it will be pretty special,’ he admitted. ‘I’m hoping to rent it out to holidaymakers, the kind of people who just want to come to the West and get away from it all, be close to nature. I’ve also applied for permission to build two or three small coastguard cottages on the other side of the field.’

‘That’s great.’

‘It’s funny,’ he mused. ‘When I was younger I couldn’t wait to get away from Connemara, away from the place and the parish and all the neighbours who know me and my cousins and relations. I didn’t think the place had anything to offer.’

‘The back of beyond.’

‘But since I’ve come back I’ve put down roots here and I couldn’t imagine myself living anywhere else. I can see how it has a hold on people.’

‘My granny said “the West” put a spell on her,’ remembered Anna.

The food was good, O’Flaherty’s deserved its fine reputation. Rob ordered a brown-bread ice cream for dessert and Anna managed to steal a spoonful of it.

They sat and chatted for an hour or two, deciding to move when the bar got crowded and people were standing waiting for tables.

The road was dark as they drove through winding country lanes, Anna stealing a glance at Rob’s expression, Tippy half-asleep on her lap. As they came near the town he slowed down.

‘The schoolhouse or the cottage?’ he asked softly.

Anna looked across at him. He was kind and old-fashioned and good and every ounce of instinct in her soul was saying ‘Follow him’. It made no sense but she knew in her heart that she didn’t want to waste any more time, not one more day of being apart, not one more night of not being with him.

‘Your place,’ she said, reaching for his hand.

From that night on Anna spent the vast part of her time with Rob, both of them equally surprised by the intensity of their feelings. Anna had never known anything like this before and had nothing to compare it with. Rob was so different from any other guy she had been with before and made her feel like she belonged here with him. How could she go back to Dublin, leave this place, the sea, the beach, the dog (who followed her like a shadow) and Rob?

‘You know I have to get back to work,’ she said, curled up beside Rob on the couch. ‘My students have exams and I have to set papers – I can do marking and corrections up here later but I’ve got to be in Dublin for a while.’

‘It’s OK, Anna,’ he teased, ruffling her hair which had gone beyond curly. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’ll still be here, OK?’

She took a breath. It was almost like a dream, a mirage, to have Rob waiting for her. She felt taut and nervous inside that something would go wrong, something would happen to ruin it but Rob reassured her, pulling her across on to his lap and holding her close, kissing the fear away.

Sarah’s feet were killing her. She’d been working since eleven o’clock this morning helping Cora cater for a large funeral lunch party in a private home in Blackrock. Cooked wild salmon, baked ham and creamy chicken in white wine sauce had been served to the guests and the family had been very kind and had tipped her generously as she helped tidy up afterwards and pack things away. Standing at the bus stop on Mount Merrion Avenue waiting for the number 5 she immediately recognized the large black Range Rover pulling over to offer her a lift.

‘Sarah, can I drop you somewhere?’ Mark McGuiness asked, rolling down the windows.

‘Oh, thanks, Mark,’ she sighed as he opened the car door. ‘I’m on my way home from work. This bus here isn’t the best, so thanks a lot.’

‘How did your party go?’ he asked turning towards her.

‘Party?’

‘Your daughter’s,’ he reminded her. ‘Sorry I couldn’t make it but I was away in Germany that weekend.’

‘It’s OK, I got your message. The party was great. They all dressed up as fairies and had a picnic in the garden.’

‘Sounds like a lot of fun; kids’ birthday parties are the days you always remember,’ he said. ‘And Evie’s a nice kid. She’s a credit to you,’ he added.

‘Thanks,’ said Sarah, watching his profile as he drove. She slipped off her shoes.

‘That’s a relief,’ she sighed. ‘I’ve been on my feet for hours at the lunch I was working at.’

‘I thought you said you had a job at Evie’s school?’

‘I do three mornings a week but today I was working at a funeral lunch; my friend Cora was catering. We just served lunch to over a hundred people. I work there sometimes at the weekends and when they have extra functions on.’

‘You sure keep yourself busy, Sarah,’ he said admiringly, glancing in her direction.

He is definitely rather dishy, Sarah thought to herself, in that mature smooth kind of way.

‘How’s your sister?’ he enquired as they stopped at the traffic lights.

‘I’ve two,’ she reminded him. ‘Anna’s off working on some poetry thing in Connemara and Grace is an architect.’

‘I think that somehow that did come up in our rather heated conversation.’ He laughed.

‘Poor Grace. She just broke up with this awful creep she worked with. We are all mightily relieved as none of us liked him. Of course now she is burying herself in work.’

‘Hard work never killed anyone,’ he said as they turned in the direction of Pleasant Square.

They chatted easily about the neighbourhood as they drove. Mark McGuinness mightn’t be her type of guy, Sarah thought, but he was sound and despite Grace’s opinion of him, she liked him and was glad he was moving in opposite them.

‘Mark, thanks for the lift,’ she said, slipping her shoes back on as she got out of the car.

‘Was that Mark McGuinness I saw dropping you off?’ her mother asked as she relieved her from babysitting Evie. Honestly, her mum was such a curiosity box.

‘Yes, it was Mark and I’d probably be still standing waiting at the bus stop in Blackrock otherwise.’

‘Do you like him, Sarah?’

‘Mum, you’re obsessed. Will you stop it! He’s just our new neighbour and he gave me a lift and it’s no big deal.’

After tea when she had bathed Evie and changed her into her pyjamas, Sarah went into her bedroom to have a root around her wardrobe, which consisted mostly of denim jeans in various hues, lengths, widths and styles. Her best friend Karen had invited her to a dinner party on Saturday and she wanted to make a good impression. Karen would kill her if she turned up in jeans. She lifted out the multicoloured Zara skirt she usually wore with a black string top; it suddenly looked too old and worn for a stylish dinner party. The same went for her wrap-around blue dress and the silk print dress she’d bought in the sales.

‘What are you doing, Mummy?’ asked Evie, standing in the doorway watching her.

‘I’m trying to find something nice to wear for Saturday night when I go to dinner at Karen and Mick’s house. It’s going to be kind of fancy there.’

Evie stayed ominously silent. Then: ‘Auntie Grace has nice clothes, fancy ones.’

Out of the mouth of babes and innocents, thought Sarah, getting the message.

‘Take what you want!’ offered Grace, throwing open the doors of her massive walk-in wardrobe with its huge amount of hanging space, and racks and pullout drawers of tops and knits and belts and wraps. She sat on the bed to watch. ‘There’s a few Karen Millens that might fit and that lovely corset thing I got in Rococo that goes with that flouncy skirt.’

Sarah slowly went through the rack of expensive designer clothes hanging in her sister’s wardrobe: Chanel, Stella McCartney, Chloé. Grace must have spent a fortune on them.

Some of the things swamped her as she wasn’t as tall as Grace, even though her figure was curvier and far less toned.

‘What about this?’ suggested Grace pulling a chiffon wrap-around top and matching skirt from a padded hanger. ‘I bought it in Paris.’

Sarah held it up. The grey-blue colour certainly suited her, even with her blond hair, and she quickly pulled it on. The V neckline showed off the curves of her breasts and made her neck appear longer.

‘Wow,’ said Grace. ‘It never looked that good on me.’

‘Are you sure it’s OK?’ Sarah was hesitant. Dressing up and looking sexy and attractive was something she hadn’t done for a very long time.

‘Nice strappy shoes with a high heel and tanned legs and you can’t go wrong.’

Sarah twirled around studying herself in the mirror. She looked and felt good, something that didn’t happen very often these days.

‘You look lovely, Sarah, honest,’ said Grace sincerely.

Sarah couldn’t believe that Grace was actually going to lend her something. When they were younger she used to scream at Anna and herself if they so much as took a pair of socks or a T-shirt from her room. There had been battles over make-up and cotton-wool puffs and mascara and nail varnish. She was sure the Lynches next door must have thought that they were a crazy family with all the shouting and screaming and banging of doors that went on. She supposed this meant they were finally grown up and that Grace was being the big sister helping her get ready for the special occasion.

‘How are you getting to Karen’s house tomorrow?’

‘I’ll get a bus or take a taxi.’

‘No you won’t. I’ll drop you,’ insisted her bossy big sister. ‘I said I’d call into Roisin tomorrow night and I can drop you en route.’

‘Thanks,’ said Sarah, overwhelmed with gratitude.

Evie had studied her getting dressed and blow-drying her hair and putting on her make-up, her face serious as she took in the rituals of preparation for a
big night out
.