The Summer Guest

by Emma Hannigan

  By the time she’d calmed down, Lexie felt as if she’d aged by ten years. Her head hurt, her tummy grumbled and she was stiff and chilly. There was still no sign of Sam. Normally when they’d had a barney, he’d been hot on her heels, ready to fix the situation. Now he was nowhere to be seen.

  Not sure what to do, Lexie tumbled off the bed and staggered into the bathroom. Peeling off her clothes, she climbed into the shower and turned the heat up to an almost scalding temperature. As the water cascaded down her back and the room fogged up, the bathroom door opened. Sam walked in, closed the toilet lid and sat down heavily, his head in his hands.

  Lexie turned the water off but remained inside the cubicle. ‘What should we do, Sam?’ she asked, unable to hide the pain in her voice.

  ‘For the first time in my life, I actually don’t have the first idea of what’s right,’ he said. ‘I don’t know if I have the answer to eternal happiness in the world, Lexie. But I know one thing for certain. If we don’t start communicating a little better we’re going to drift apart. If you honestly want a baby, that’s fine. But I need to know that you’re suggesting we become parents because we think it’s right, not because of some deep-seated guilt.’

  ‘That’s not my reason for changing my mind,’ Lexie said, emerging from the shower. Sam handed her a towel, which she wrapped around her damp body.

  ‘Amélie thinks I’m an ogre. Maia is pregnant again and it’s as if I’m on an island now.’

  Sam listened silently.

  ‘Look at Agata. She’s an incredibly talented and imaginative artist. She’ll go from strength to strength. Her work is ingenious. Little Britta is the light of her life.’ Sam seemed deep in thought. ‘Maia is a total ball-buster and one of the most successful lawyers around, yet she and Josh seem to cope flawlessly with Calvin … Then I see Kathleen. She’s such a warm and wise lady. From the moment I met her I was drawn to her.’ Lexie sighed. ‘But she’s pretty much alone in this world now that Jackson’s died.’

  ‘She seems to be doing just fine,’ Sam said.

  ‘Yes, she’s coping. But she’s told me that she longed for a child. For years it was all she wanted. But it didn’t happen and now she’s like a lovely sparkling bouncy ball that hops from one situation to the next all alone.’

  ‘Lexie, no matter what happens in life, we all end up on our own. For some it’s all day, for others it’s only an hour a day. But when push comes to shove, the only person who can make us happy is ourselves.’

  Lexie fell silent again. She wanted to hide from Sam and the rest of the world.

  ‘Let’s think this over while we’re apart,’ Sam said.

  Lexie hugged him. ‘The main reason I want to have a baby is because I don’t want to lose you,’ she said, burying her face in his neck.

  He held her and stared directly ahead.

  ‘Those were the words I’ve longed to hear. But now that you’re saying them I feel as if I’ve hoodwinked you into saying them.’ Still holding her close, he stroked her hair. ‘Let’s have another shot at eating dinner, yeah?’ he suggested. ‘Then I’m going to have to pack and get to bed. I’ve a cruel start tomorrow. My taxi is arriving at four thirty in the morning because I’m on the red-eye to London.’

  She nodded, looking miserable.

  As she watched Sam go back down to reheat the fish pie, Lexie pulled on her dressing-gown and slippers. She combed her hair and studied her pale, drawn face in the mirror. Anything had to be better than this, she mused. Perhaps body clocks ticked in different ways and hers was showing its colours by slowly dismantling her entire life.

  Dear Diary

  I want to start again. I’ve had enough of being a rebel. Running away is too scary. I honestly thought I was going to be raped or murdered in France.

  I feel so awful for shouting at Auntie Lex. I was so angry after being with Grandma, but now that I’ve had time to cool down, I realise I was too harsh on her. Grandma has always been a drama queen. It takes one to know one, right? Mum is always saying I’m just like her. That used to annoy me and I figured she was making it up. But I’m starting to see that there could be a teeny-tiny grain of truth in it.

  I’m freaked about Lex and Sam. They’re arguing all the time. I never noticed them being like this before, but maybe this is just the way it goes when you’re married. Unless I meet a guy who is damn close to perfect and begs me to be his wife, I’m staying single. This marriage thing stinks.

  Uncle Sam is going away again so I’ll be by Auntie Lexie’s side tomorrow and I’ll tell her how awful I feel for being such a witch to her. She needs someone on her side. After all, she was right there with me when I needed her in France.

  She’s been so good to me. Nobody else I know would lie to the police and drag their butt across the sea to rescue me. She’s the coolest and most sound person on the planet and I need to cut her some serious slack.

  I’m going to a party tomorrow night. It’s with some new people I met through the girls at school. It’s in a flat so we can do what we like apparently. I’ll have a couple of beers and then I’m getting my shit together. I want to make people proud of me. I’m going to get shedloads of points in my exams next year and go to business school. Working at the gallery has shown me what’s out there. Helping organise the exhibition with Agata was mint, seeing it all come together and how the crowd flocked in and were awestruck by what we’d done. It was the bomb.

  After the party tomorrow night I’ll start organising my life.

  And that’s a promise.

  Ciao

  Amélie

  Chapter 37

  Kathleen rushed out to the taxi just before six the next morning. ‘That’s not exactly a granny bag,’ the driver commented.

  ‘It’s my little nod to my inner craziness,’ Kathleen explained.

  ‘Ah, you’re American,’ the driver said, as if that explained everything.

  ‘Not totally,’ she corrected. As they hurtled towards the station, Kathleen explained her situation.

  ‘So you haven’t seen this old doll since you were a kid,’ the man said. ‘You see, that’s the difference between men and women. I’d never in a million years think of looking for a long-lost friend. I’d just go to the local bar and meet new people there.’

  ‘I guess that’s one way of doing things,’ Kathleen said. ‘But I’m very excited about seeing Betty.’

  By the time she had found the correct train and settled into a seat, Kathleen was hungry. Luckily she’d taken Ben’s advice and booked a ticket that included a full Irish breakfast. Less than twenty minutes after she’d set off, a waitress appeared with the dining trolley.

  The meal was rather like aeroplane food but the cappuccino was surprisingly good, as was the packet of fresh brown bread. The newspaper had a couple of colourful weekend supplements, so Kathleen was perfectly entertained.

  As the train pulled up at the station the announcer on the Tannoy instructed the passengers to remove all personal items.

  Moments later Kathleen was sitting in a seat at the front of a bus that was winging its way to the Connemara House Hotel. As they left the city behind them, she was cast into a near-trance as she gazed at the incredible scenery. ‘It’s so long since I’ve experienced this,’ she said in awe. ‘It’s so much more beautiful than I remember.’

  ‘I come here day in, day out, and I never take it for granted,’ agreed the driver. ‘Depending on the weather, the colours around the mountains can go from vibrant to misty and mysterious.’

  Today the sun was lighting the mauves and soft greens of the mountain range with such clarity it looked almost like a Hollywood set. Huddles of scribbly white sheep dotted the landscape, like tiny Fuzzy Felt creatures that had been strategically placed to make the scene pretty. Apart from a few tourists, there were no cars on the road. No people rushing by. No noises or commotion.

  ‘It’s like we’ve stepped back in time,’ Kathleen breathed, ‘to before the world took off and we all thought we should be
in a constant hurry.’

  As they drew up at the country-house hotel, the last of the cerise blooms of the rhododendrons welcomed her. Stepping off the bus, Kathleen inhaled the pure air gratefully. She waited until the bus had driven away and then, sitting on a bench, she drank in the serenity of her new surroundings. Tiny birds twittered and flew daintily from one pale green leafy branch to the next. The Atlantic Ocean sparkled in the sunlight as seagulls glided back and forth, occasionally diving to catch food.

  The cars parked to the left of the main house indicated that there must be other guests, but Kathleen couldn’t hear any human life. The pretty tumbling lilac blooms of the wisteria that covered the entire frontage of the hotel scented the air with a delicate fragrance.

  The building was quaint and charming with a large oak door that had been propped open with an iron boot scraper in the shape of a hedgehog. Old-fashioned white-painted sash windows added to the country-chic feel. Kathleen went inside, pulling her bag behind her.

  The warm aromas of fresh bread and beeswax assailed her. The décor was a mix of antique and contemporary colours. The walls and floors were a neutral shade of honey and the brightly chequered armchairs, rugs and bowls of peonies added welcome splashes of colour.

  ‘You’re most welcome to our hotel,’ a young woman in a navy skirt suit said.

  ‘Thank you. It’s beautiful,’ Kathleen said, as she gazed around.

  ‘I’m glad you like it. My name is Clara and I’m a member of the Fitzgerald family. We’ve lived here for the last three generations and we’re proud to share our home.’

  ‘How wonderful.’ Kathleen gave her name.

  ‘Can I offer you tea and scones? Your room is ready so I can ask my brother to take your bag up. But I’m guessing you’d like a little snack after your journey.’

  ‘That sounds gorgeous,’ Kathleen said. Clara showed her to a room that was dotted with soft golden sofas, plump cushions, and shiny wooden coffee tables.

  ‘This is our drawing room and you’re most welcome to sit here. Alternatively we have a gorgeous walled garden just to the right of the house. It’s particularly lovely on a warm day like today. I’ve brand-new tables and chairs out there if you’d like to check it out.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ Kathleen said. ‘I could do with a breath of fresh air after being cooped up on the train.’

  ‘Good idea. Follow me.’

  Kathleen was expecting it to be a little breezy and chilly, but as she sat on the decorative wrought-iron chair, with the pink and white gingham cushion, she felt as if she’d landed in Paradise. Clara returned with a wooden tray laden with delicious goodies.

  ‘Wow! That looks almost too good to eat,’ Kathleen said. ‘Is all this for me?’

  ‘Ah, they’re only tiny,’ Clara said. ‘A mere mouthful in each one. I decided to bring you our afternoon tea selection. I thought you’d enjoy it.’

  The tiny smoked-salmon sandwiches were interspersed with egg and cress and dainty cucumber ones. ‘I’ll leave this with you,’ she said. Kathleen clapped her hands and giggled as Clara handed her a small brass handbell.

  ‘Tinkle and I’ll come trotting,’ she promised.

  Kathleen poured tea into the porcelain cup and took great pleasure in using the tiny silver tongs for the sugar lumps. She made great headway with the delicate sandwiches before polishing off the bite-sized scones and miniature butterfly buns.

  A couple passed. ‘Enjoy your stay,’ the woman said, in a distinct New York accent. ‘We’re just leaving and can’t wait to return.’

  ‘I’ve only been here a short while and I’ve fallen in love with the place already,’ Kathleen admitted. ‘Safe journey.’

  Being alone in the walled garden was oddly comforting. Kathleen drank her tea, then wandered about inspecting the plants. Someone with a true passion for gardening was clearly in charge. Each section was divided into colours. One corner boasted predominantly pink shades, which moved towards burnt orange then yellow.

  ‘Sorry to barge in with my wheelbarrow,’ said a voice behind her. Spinning around, Kathleen was met with an older yet just as friendly version of Clara. ‘I’m Jenny, allegedly the lady of the manor, but I’m a lot happier in my old gardening trousers with my trusty barrow and trowel.’

  ‘I’m Kathleen. I’ve come to visit with a very old friend who happens to live near here now.’

  ‘Who’s your friend?’

  ‘Betty Clarke was her maiden name, but I’ve just realised I don’t know her married name. She’s originally from Caracove Bay.’ Kathleen looked doubtful.

  ‘Ah that’s Betty White. Indeed I do know her. She’s a great woman for sharing gardening clippings. She often comes here for tea with her grandchildren.’

  Kathleen explained why she’d ended up in Connemara.

  ‘That’s just fantastic,’ Jenny said. ‘Well, I can vouch for Betty. She’s a fantastic character. You’ll have a great evening with her, I can assure you.’

  ‘I’m so excited about seeing her again. I met with her son, Ben, and he advised me to come here,’ she said.

  ‘Glad he’s doing my marketing!’ She chuckled. ‘Did Ben tell you that George, his partner, is my son?’

  ‘I had no idea,’ Kathleen said, laughing. ‘It’s lucky I didn’t say anything bad about him. I really need to remember to watch my Ps and Qs around here.’

  ‘Ireland is still a very small island. Everyone is related to someone. Never say a word unless you’re willing to say it at the top of your voice through a megaphone.’

  ‘That’s sound advice.’

  ‘I’d better plant my little primulas before they shrivel up and die in the wheelbarrow,’ she said.

  ‘I’m going to settle into my room, see you later on,’ Kathleen said.

  As she went back into the hotel she was smiling. Ever since she’d stepped off the plane from Orlando, she had been meeting warm, friendly and genuine people. Not for the first time, she thanked her lucky stars that Jackson had insisted she come here.

  Moments later, Kathleen had an urge to bounce on the bed. The vast four-poster was draped with the thinnest, wispiest layers of lightest pink voile with tiny dark pink embroidered butterflies.

  Unzipping her bag, she pulled out her dress for dinner and hung it in the antique walnut wardrobe. The ensuite was beautifully presented with gorgeous lace-trimmed towels. This, Kathleen mused, was the difference between a massive impersonal hotel chain and a country house. All the personal touches delighted her.

  Remembering Lexie, Kathleen pulled out her mobile phone and sent a quick text to say she’d arrived. The fan of magazines on the coffee table caught her eye and before she knew it Kathleen had been sitting and flicking for over an hour.

  It was nearing dinnertime, so instead of rushing or fussing, Kathleen decided to luxuriate in a deep bubble bath. ‘You’d love this place, Jackson,’ she said. Her voice echoed in the tiled surface of the steamy bathroom. ‘Hold my hand this evening, won’t you? This could be a horrific mistake. Betty might be a bore. She might be loud as a drain and full of obnoxious opinions. What will I do if she’s cross and cranky?’ The lapping of the water and the shifting of the suds in the bath seemed to answer. ‘Okay, I’ll stop with the negativity, Jackson. I’m sure she’s a great old gal. Her son seemed very normal. Plus Jenny’s a darling and they’re friends, so it’ll be fine, right?’

  Kathleen wound the chain from the plug around her big toe and pulled it free. Gurgling noises made her grin. It was a long time since she’d heard old pipes groaning in this way. It reminded her of the stand-alone bath that used to wash every one of them at number three Cashel Square once upon a time.

  Soon she was slipping into her jersey wrap dress and high heels. ‘I might be seventy-five but I can still rock killer heels, eh, Jackson?’ she said to her reflection.

  As she descended the stairs she heard voices at the reception desk. She broke into a wide smile when she spotted Betty. Although almost seventy years had passed, she still re
cognised her flame-haired friend. Gone were the flowing unruly curls. Instead this elegant woman had a slicked-back ponytail with the same porcelain skin.

  ‘Kathleen!’ Betty said, rushing to the foot of the staircase.

  ‘Betty!’ She hurried down the last few stairs. They embraced and stood apart, still holding hands. ‘Jeez, Louise, you look good, honey!’

  ‘So do you. You have the lovely sun-kissed look that non-Irish citizens enjoy.’

  ‘I’ve skin like a rhino, you mean?’ Kathleen laughed.

  ‘Not quite! I’m actually overwhelmed to see you. You really haven’t changed much.’

  ‘Neither have you, Betty. I’d know you anywhere. It’s amazing that, no matter what our poor old bodies and skin have been through, the eyes remain the same.’

  ‘Let’s go and get a glass of something nice.’

  Jenny greeted Kathleen and led the way to the drawing room. ‘It’s a lot quieter in here than it is in the bar,’ Jenny said. ‘I reckon a glass of bubbly is in order. What do you think, ladies?’

  ‘That sounds wonderful for me,’ Kathleen said. ‘Betty?’

  ‘Delicious!’

  ‘So tell me everything,’ Kathleen said, as she sank into the chair opposite Betty. ‘I know from Ben that you have a son and two daughters and that you look after your grandchildren.’

  Kathleen needn’t have worried about conversation or a sense of awkwardness with Betty. The night flew. Both women went from belly laughs to dabbing their eyes when Kathleen told her old friend about Jackson.

  ‘Poor you,’ Betty said. ‘It sounds as if he had a really tough few years.’

  ‘We made the best of it, and we were lucky he had as much time as he did.’