by Maggie Finn
‘Hey there, Guard,’ he called cheerily, then had a double take at Noah’s face. ‘Mrs. Brennan fetched you a whack did she?’
‘No, no, just an accident, so. I’ll be grand.’
Aaron jumped down with a cable, hooking it up to the Range Rover’s towing bar.
‘Sorry about this, Miss,’ he said to Eliza sheepishly. ‘The tractor slips through there no problem. I feel terrible that you got stuck.’
‘Luckily it’s a rental,’ said Eliza kindly. ‘No harm done.’
I’m not entirely sure about that, thought Noah, looking back toward the square where a cluster of women were still muttering together. From previous experience, he knew that could be trouble.
‘So you’re here on holi… on vacation?’
Eliza laughed and Noah felt like he was listening to the wind blowing through the trees.
‘Yes, for the Holidays,’ she said. ‘Although the idea was to get a little peace and quiet. Instead it looks as though I’ve upset everyone. There was a lady shouting at me to move when I was stuck in the car.’
‘Ah, that’s just Mrs. Brennan, the local – well, let’s just say she likes to get involved in the dramatics. Don’t take it personally,’ said Noah, fishing a sticking plaster from a mini-first aid kit in his pocket. ‘Sure, and you get people like that everywhere, don’t you?’
‘People like what?’
‘People who enjoy finding fault in others, while failing to see their own shortcomings.’
Eliza looked at him for a moment, then took the plaster from him and carefully pressed it onto his nose. Noah felt a tingle on his skin even after she stood back to admire her handiwork.
‘Doesn’t that describe us all, Officer Moyes?’
Noah chuckled.
‘I think you have me there, Miss,’ he smiled. ‘And it’s Guard Noah, everyone calls me that.’
‘Guard, not officer?’
‘The police in Ireland are ‘the Garda’,’ he said. ‘Officially Garda????, it means Guards. So policemen are know as Guards.’
He smiled. ‘You’ll find a lot of things are different over here, Miss. Like our lemonade is red.’
Eliza laughed. ‘That’s what I’m here for: I want different.’
Noah glanced up the lane.
‘Well, I think we’d better get out of the way before Mr. Garvey drags the car over us.’ He helped Eliza take her cases from the car and they walked back down the lane a little way to a gap in the hedge. Noah pulled the gate open and they watched as Aaron towed the Range Rover – dented and scraped on both sides – through into the field.
‘I’ll bring it back around to the square, Miss,’ called the farmer as he drove past. ‘You can get someone to pick it up there, I guess.’
Noah closed the gate and led Eliza back down to the square. Both the gaggle of women and the pub crowd had gone, which was a relief. Riot control was tough when there was only one of you.
‘So can I drop you somewhere?’ asked Noah, suddenly curious, wanting to know everything he could about this woman.
‘No, actually. This square was where I was heading when I got stuck. The Rose Guest House?’
Noah’s eyes widened.
‘Is there a problem?’ asked Eliza.
Noah grimaced and reached for the woman’s bag. ‘I think you might need a police escort.’
‘Why? What’s wrong.’
Noah nodded towards a whitewashed building in the far corner of the square. ‘That’s the Guest House over there.’
Eliza wrinkled her nose and Noah felt those birds flutter again.
‘No good?’ she asked.
‘Oh, it’s cozy enough. It’s just I’m not sure you’re going to like the landlady.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’ve already met her,’ said Noah, with a ghost of a smile. ‘Her name’s Diana Brennan.’
Chapter Four
Under the circumstances, Eliza thought Mrs. Brennan had been remarkably civil. Perhaps it was the fact that the nice policeman – the Guard, Eliza corrected herself – was with her at check-in and pointedly remarked that he’d be seeing the local priest – a bishop, no less – later in the day and would pass on her regards. Apparently, Mrs. Brennan was more frightened of the Bishop than she was of the law. And perhaps the B&B’s landlady had accepted that the fracas with the rental was an accident. After all, who would travel a thousand miles, then use a brand new car to vandalize a wall on another continent? Either way, the old lady had shown her to a perfectly lovely little room at the front of the house with a view of the square and Eliza had done her best to unwind. It had been true what she had said to the Guard; she had wanted to slip into the village unnoticed, but had somehow made the biggest splash possible.
Eliza crossed to the window and pushed back the curtains; chintzy, but then you didn’t come to the west coast of Ireland for ultra-modernist, did you? The rain had gone, leaving the square gleaming in the light. Not sunshine, exactly, but it felt clean. Refreshing. Exactly the kind of weather for a stroll along the clifftops. Not that Eliza had seen any clifftops as yet, but she had spent enough long hours drooling over pictures of them on websites dedicated to the beauty of Ireland. In the last week running up to this trip, she must have seen more pictures of the cliffs of Moher and Dingle Harbor than the Irish Tourist board.
The last week. Eliza swallowed and turned away from the window, a sudden knot of anxiety in her stomach. What a difference a week made. Eight days ago, she had been set to spend the Holidays around the pool at Nic’s house off Beachwood Canyon. They’d have had Margaritas and turkey tacos, all those stupid traditions that you make up in the early days of a relationship when everything you do is cute and clever. Eliza tried to picture herself sitting on one of those achingly arch rattan deck loungers, listening to Phil Spector and griping about the heat and was surprised to find she couldn’t do it. Somehow, so quickly, Nic seemed like the distant past.
Needing a distraction, she pulled open her suitcase, a cloud of pink tissue paper wafting out. ‘Everything perfectly packed’, that’s what her mother used to say, her face solemn as she emphasized the importance of rolling instead of folding, the advantages of silk over cotton – ‘weight and wrinkles, honey, a woman’s worst enemies’ – and how a lady without a compact ‘is practically naked’. As a teenager, Eliza had tried to rebel with backpacks and grunge chic, but it hadn’t lasted and now Eliza made sure she packed the perfect capsule wardrobe wherever she went, so that even if a hurricane hit, she’d be able to attend cocktails at the Embassy. Not that she’d ever been asked to cocktails at the Embassy. Her job in book publishing opened doors to a lot of swish parties, but not the kind of formal shindigs thrown by high society; another reason for Nic’s disappointment in her.
Eliza shook her head. You didn’t come here to think about him, did you? She scolded herself and pulled out the Little Black Dress, the clutch purse and the bathing suit: you never knew. Apparently, there was even a spa somewhere in the village. Carefully filling the cute chest of drawers, she left out a cashmere sweater and a cute pair of leather brogues, plaid socks neatly rolled inside: Mom’s packing 101 in full effect. She quickly changed and, tying a scarf over her hair, Eliza quietly closed her bedroom door and slipped down the stairs, tensed in case Mrs. Brennan should still be lurking in the dining room by the front door.
The old woman had gone, but in her place, Eliza was surprised to see a young man sitting by the fireplace, scowling down at a cell phone.
‘Oh, hello,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know there were any other guests.’
‘Oh, hi!’ said the man, jumping up, ‘I’m not, that is – a guest.’
‘Ah. Then what are you?’
‘I’m Danny,’ said the man, ‘Ma’s son. That is, Mrs. Brennan’s…’ he shook his head and stepped across, his hand extended. ‘Danny Brennan, I’m the owner’s son. And I’m also a reporter with The Kilmara Examiner. I heard what happened with your car.’
‘And that’s new
s?’
Danny smiled.
‘Point taken, but yes, actually it could be. ‘Prize bull wins prize’, ‘New Streetlight Planned’, ‘Motorists Upset By Pothole’, they’re all potential front page exclusives in Clover Cove.’
Eliza laughed, not entirely sure if he was pulling her leg.
‘So are you here for an exclusive on Stupid Tourist Gets Car Stuck?’ said Eliza warily.
‘Oh, I think my mother was thinking more along the lines of ‘Ancient Architecture Destroyed By Invading Foreigners’.
‘A couple of chips from a brick wall?’
Danny held up both hands. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger. My ma likes things to stay the way they are and gets defensive when she sees them changing. Did you hear about the Ross Oil story?’
Eliza nodded. ‘That’s what led me here, actually. I did a search for beauty spots on the Irish coast, and there were a heap of news stories talking about how the oil people were going to destroy an untouched stretch of coastline. I suppose I wanted to see it before it disappeared.’
‘Well, the good news is that the coast is still here,’ said Danny. ‘For the moment anyway. The latest is that the Ross Oil plans are on hold, but giant corporations have a way of getting what they want, don’t they?’
Eliza cocked her head. ‘So you’re not here for the exclusive on my reckless driving?’
He shook his head.
‘I actually came to apologize on behalf of Ma.’
‘She’s sorry?’
Danny pulled a face.
‘Shouldn’t think so. When Ma gets an idea into her head, it’s like fast-setting cement. But I’ll apologize on behalf of the community. We’re doing our best to regenerate tourism here and while I love my mother to death, I’m not sure we’d choose her for the “Come to Clover Cove” posters.’
Eliza thought Danny Brennan might be a good fit for that. Dark eyes, a warm smile. But she wasn’t here for romance.
‘Well, apology accepted, not that one was needed exactly,’ said Eliza. ‘But you could make up for it with some local advice. I was just going out for a walk along the cliffs. Do you think you could point me in the right direction?’
‘My pleasure,’ said Danny, slipping his computer into a bag and grabbing a coat from the back of his chair. ‘Actually I was going down to the harbor to see my girlfriend; she’s an artist, has a studio down there. I can show you the way up to the cliffs from there.’
Ah, he has a girlfriend. Of course he did.
Danny held the front door open and Eliza stepped out into the square. It felt fresh and clean, the trees seemed shiny and greener and there was a tang of the sea in the air.
‘So you’re here for the Procession?’ said Danny, leading the way down the cobbled street towards the sea, just glimpsed between the buildings. Eliza’s confusion must have shown because Danny laughed.
‘Sure, we need to get working on that PR, don’t we? You’ve come to stay in the Cove over Christmas and you haven’t even heard about the procession to the chapel?’
He pointed up to the right where a little stone house was perched right on the edge of the headland.
‘See up there? That’s the chapel, it’s been there since your pal Columbus was off discovering the New World. Every Christmas Eve, there’s a candle-lit procession from the church up to the chapel. We sing carols and a couple of lads dress up as the Wise Men, if we can find anyone who fits the bill. It’s pretty.’
‘I’ll bet it is. And everyone’s welcome?’
‘Sure, even my Ma’s full of the spirit of the season that night.’
Eliza laughed as Danny stopped by a tall stone building with white shutters.
‘Right, so this is Tessa’s studio,’ he said Danny. ‘Will you come in for some tea?’
Eliza shook her head.
‘Maybe some other time. But I’m in publishing, so I might be interested in the art.’
‘That so? Publishing?’
Danny looked like he was about to say something, then changed his mind. ‘Well maybe you should go speak to Moira in the book shop. No one knows more about books than Moy.’
Eliza smiled politely. It was a running joke in publishing: so and so knows books inside out, person “x” has forgotten more about books than you’ll ever know’. The irony was that the industry was in steep decline as people migrated to the instant hits of cell phones and the internet and none of these supposed experts seemed to have a clue what to do about it. She thanked Danny as he showed her a hidden path up behind the studio past a cute cafe decorated with sea shells and up into a wide field.
Now this was more like it. A well-beaten path followed the edge of the cliff and as Eliza peeked carefully over the side, she could see jagged black rocks jutting from the foaming waves. Exposed up here, the wind was brisk, whipping Eliza’s long chestnut hair, and she tucked it back into her headscarf, a grin on her face. Whatever the rights and wrongs of her break-up with Nic, she was glad it had led her here. The truth was she had been slowly suffocating in the dry heat of Los Angeles, like those plaster mammoths being sucked into the La Brea tar pits. Eliza had been doing the same job for seven years and while it was fun and flexible, it didn’t challenge her as much as she would have liked. The big players in publishing were based in New York, so she spent her time dealing with movie tie-ins, celebrity memoirs and the occasional literary lion who refused to shift from the west coast. Put that way, it sounded glamorous and exciting, but anything could get repetitive and anyway, she was sure her feelings about work were wrapped up in her dissatisfaction with her relationship.
She walked on, staring out to sea. Technically, Eliza lived by the sea, LA having more than one pier and a marina, but it was rare she ever saw the water. She pulled out her phone and turned her back to the sea, holding up her phone for a selfie. As she flipped her hair back, the wind gave a sudden gust, making her stumble backwards and then Eliza was stepping back into space. She barely had time to think: I’m falling over the cliff, before:
THUD
She cried out as she hit the rough hummocks of grass right at the cliff edge, her ankle twisting as she fell. Pain flaring, Eliza struggled to free her foot and saw she had stepped into a hole. Rabbits? Badgers? It hardly mattered. She tried putting weight on it and had to bite her lip to stifle a squeal. Good news: she had narrowly avoided falling into the sea. Bad news: she couldn’t walk.
Fighting her panic, Eliza rolled around onto her side and raised herself up, peering over towards the path. In the distance, she could just see the top of the church tower above the rise of the field. It was so close, but how was she going to get there? With a flare of panic in her chest, Eliza had to admit it to herself: she was trapped.
Chapter Five
Noah was running. Heart in his mouth, he sprinted along the path, yanking out his radio, his thumb finding the ‘send’ button, hoping against hope that Colleen hadn’t popped out at the wrong moment.
‘Are you there, Colleen?’ he panted. ‘If you are, I’d raise the coast guard asap.’
He waited, but all he got from the radio was a long hiss. Grimacing, Noah ran on, skidding to a halt at the edge of the cliffs.
‘Miss Carlisle? Eliza?’ he shouted, eyes scanning the rocks below. Sure, and they were evil-looking. Shark’s teeth grinning up between the foam.
‘Here!’ came a voice over the growl of the waves. ‘Over here!’
A head poked over and Noah offered up a prayer of thanks, quickly slipping the handset back into its cradle. Every year he had to deal with dozens of tourists who had either fallen from the cliffs or become trapped on the beaches by incoming tides. So far, no one had suffered more than a few scrapes and a bad case of shock, but that didn’t stop the cliffs from being dangerous – and it didn’t stop people from straying too close to the edge.
Noah jumped down to where Eliza was lying, kneeling beside her.
‘Can you move?’
She gave a pained smile. ‘Sure, but I’ve twisted my ankle.’
Noah gave a nod. ‘Then do you think we can get you up?’
‘Sure,’ she looked up at him with those brown eyes. ‘I’m sorry, it’s Guard…?’
‘Moyes,’ said Noah, trying not to flinch. She doesn’t remember me, he thought, stomach sinking. Ach, get over yerself Noah. Of course she doesn’t remember you. She’d just seen the uniform. It wasn’t uncommon: they’d even covered it in training. When the public encountered a law enforcement officer, they often treated them as a role rather than an individual. So Noah’s brain knew he shouldn’t take it personally that Eliza Carlisle didn’t remember him: but his heart wasn’t listening to his head.
‘We met earlier,’ said Noah, touching the sticking plaster on his nose.
‘No, I remember,’ said Eliza. She gestured towards her foot. ‘It’s just I’m a bit distracted.’
‘No, of course, of course,’ said Noah, helping Eliza into a sitting position on a clump of grass. ‘Stepped in a rabbit hole, did you?’
‘Not sure,’ said Eliza, her cheeks flaring. She looked around her, then tried to bend down. Noah saw what she was reaching for: her phone winking silver just off the path. ‘Here, let me,’ he said, scooping it up and handing it over, then bent down to inspect Eliza’s ankle, gently rotating it. She hissed, but didn’t cry out.
‘Can you wiggle your toes?’
She nodded and he inclined his head, looking carefully at Eliza’s foot from all angles.
‘Well, I don’t think it’s broken, just a sprain. I have a first aid kit in the car up on the road which should hold it until we can get the doc to have a proper look.’
She nodded. ‘Thanks, Noah.’
He grinned at the use of his name.
‘My turn to look after you, eh?’
Noah hoisted her up, trying not to notice her sweet smell, how good her arm felt around his neck. He concentrated on keeping her foot free of obstacles as they awkwardly limped onto the path.
