by Maggie Finn
‘Well as the only officer of the law in this village, Mrs. Brennan,’ he said, a hint of warning in his voice. ‘I feel confident saying that any damage the American girl caused was entirely by accident. And I also believe she was genuinely upset that she had scraped that wall.’
‘Not just a scrape…’
‘Just think of it this way,’ continued Noah, backing away. ‘If I send the girl to jail, you’ll lose your only guest at the B&B.’
Noah could see that idea hit home. Tourism had increased in the Cove, but it wasn’t exactly awash with coach parties this close to Christmas: it was too cold and even the more adventurous travelers tended to spend the festivities at home with their families.
‘You haven’t heard the last of this,’ called Mrs. Brennan as Noah crossed the square. No, probably not, thought Noah. It was one of the many things they didn’t teach you in training, that a large part of the job was dealing with difficult – often very difficult – people like Diana Brennan. But right now, Noah had another tricky situation to deal with.
Eliza: he was going to ask her out on a date. He was going to stop beating about the bush, grab the bull by the horns, all the clichés. He liked her and he suspected she liked him, so why not?
Why? Because he was terrified, that was why. He was a man of action, he’d face down a mugger or run into a burning building without a thought, but here he was, nervy as a frog in a bucket. Maybe I’ll ask her later, he thought to himself, his feet slowing as he approached the bookstore, maybe I’ll leave it until…
Noah heard a tinkling sound and looked up. Eliza stepped onto the pavement.
‘Eliza!’ he said a little too loud, ‘I – I mean Miss Carlisle.’
‘Hello Guard – I mean Noah.’ She smiled. And my, but wasn’t it a pretty smile?
‘Look, could I ask you something?’ he said, almost having to force the words out.
Eliza’s smile faded a little.
‘Sure. I think. What’s this about?’
What was it about? Suddenly Noah was very aware of his cap and his tunic and his insignia. If there was nothing in the Garda training about dealing with nosy neighbors like Ma Brennan, there was certainly nothing about the accepted protocols for asking out girls while in uniform.
‘I was just wondering if you’d have any free time this afternoon?’
Eliza glanced back at the shop.
‘Well, Moira was going to take me out on one of her library runs,’ she said uncertainly.
‘Oh, well if you’re busy…’
‘No, I should think I can do it another time, what did you need me to do?’
The way she looked at him made Noah think she could actually read his mind. Stop being paranoid, Noah, he thought, just ask her. Taking a deep breath, he began to mumble, ‘I thought I might take you out to the Port and…’
‘Everything alright?’
Kate O’Riordan was standing in the doorway and Noah immediately felt all the bravery drain from him. There was an awkward pause and Kate looked at Eliza. ‘Did you tell him about the birdwatcher?’ she said.
‘Birdwatcher?’ asked Noah.
Eliza looked slightly embarrassed.
‘We were just having this fantasy that some American guy who came in the store was a spy.’
‘A spy?’ Noah repeated, utterly bewildered now.
Kate frowned, looking across the square. ‘Or is this all about Mrs. Brennan?’
Eliza turned to look at the small woman, still carrying her load of flowers.
‘Is that it, Noah?’ said Eliza, looking up at him. ‘Is that why you need me to come to Port Quinn? To make a statement?’
He looked between the two women. If he didn’t know how to ask a girl out while wearing the Garda cap, he definitely didn’t know how to do it with another woman standing right there in front of him.
‘Sure,’ he sighed. ‘That’s it. Shall I see you tomorrow afternoon?’
Chapter Ten
The bus was more fun than Eliza had imagined. Catching it in the square, it chugged and clanked along the coast road down to the port, taking the tight hairpin bends at what felt like a reckless pace: Eliza had needed to hang onto the seat in front. But Port Quinn was more than worth the discomfort. Bustling and busy where Clover Cove was pretty and serene, it was an exciting contrast only a few miles down the coast.
It was still cold, though. As she walked around the harbor, Eliza paused to look up at the sky, wondering when the snow would come. There seemed to be ice in the air, she could feel that cold nip when she breathed in too sharply. Of course, Eliza was no expert; it barely ever rained in California and her sole experience with frozen climes was when she and Nic had gone on an ill-fated skiing trip to Whistler. Ill-fated because now Eliza could see that they were trying to paper over the cracks with a stereotypical romantic break. As it happened, Nic twisted his knee on the nursery slopes and Eliza came down with food poisoning from a plate of oysters. If they’d been more in love, even the setbacks would have been a chance to care for each other, little stories to take home and laugh about. Instead, they had bickered all the way back to LAX.
Hindsight is 20:20, isn’t that what they say? she thought as she turned into the street with the Garda station. One thing was for certain: Nic and Noah were opposite ends of the scale. Nic had been a dreamer, flaky and unreliable, whereas Noah was solid and dependable. Not exactly what you looked for in a romantic lead, she supposed.
So is that what he is to you? A voice in her head asked. Eliza smiled at the idea, but she really wasn’t sure what the answer was. She could tell Noah liked her, it was just she couldn’t quite work out whether he was being professionally attentive or whether he had romantic intent. For a moment yesterday on The Font doorstep, Eliza had the distinct feeling Noah was about to ask her on a date before Kate had got in the way. Or maybe she was reading the cues all wrong. Clearly her love radar was faulty at the moment, otherwise the split with Nic wouldn’t have been such a surprise, would it?
Still, it wouldn’t do any harm to get all this paperwork out of the way. The rental company had been lovely about the dented Range Rover, replacing it with a cute little compact in the same green as the Irish flag, which she found tickled her possibly more than it should. But she was still wary about getting back behind the wheel right now: hence getting the bus to Port Quinn.
She opened the Garda station door and stepped inside. A middle-aged woman with dark curly hair was sitting behind a desk.
‘Can I help you darling?’
‘I’m looking for Noah,’ said Eliza, ‘I mean Guard Moyes.’
‘Noah!’ yelled the woman, ‘Someone to see ya!’
There was a pause, then Noah stepped out.
‘Okay Colleen, I’ll take it from here.’ he said, flashing a look at the other woman, then smiling warmly in Eliza’s direction. ‘How are you, Miss Carlisle? Just step this way.’
He beckoned her down a corridor and into a small office. It was crowded – a desk, two filing cabinets and endless shelves lined with box files – but it was neat and tidy. Eliza had expected no less.
‘Sorry about that,’ said Noah, ‘Colleen has six brothers and sisters: she had to shout to get attention and never got out of the habit.’
‘I heard that!’ came a voice from the passageway.
‘You were meant to,’ called Noah, closing the door on her.
‘Please, make yourself at home.’
He said, indicating a comfortable leather armchair.
‘It is actually,’ said Eliza. ‘Homely, I mean. I wasn’t expecting your office to be like this, although I don’t really know what I was expecting. I’ve only ever seen the inside of a police station on cop shows.’ She was babbling again. Maybe being interviewed by the police had that effect on everyone. She took a deep breath and composed herself.
‘So you wanted to talk about the accident?’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Noah, opening a notebook, ‘Just some formalities, nothing too taxing.’
<
br /> ‘Did Mrs. Brennan make a complaint?’
‘No, not at all,’ said Noah. ‘Well, I’d be lying if I said she was happy about the situation, but Diana Brennan’s always got a bee in her bonnet about something. It’s a little like the natural state of things around here, like the rain or the fog. It’s going to happen, so you get used to it.’
He smiled reassuringly and Eliza found herself looking at his deep brown eyes. They were brown, chocolate almost. Nerves again, she thought, forcing herself to concentrate.
‘So I’m not in any trouble?’
‘Heavens no, and even if an offence had been committed…’
Noah stopped as there was a knock at the door.
‘Yes?’
Colleen popped her head in and said in a deliberately quiet voice, ‘I’m sorry to disturb you Guard Moyes, but there’s been another one.’
‘Another one what?’
Colleen glanced at Eliza and raised her eyebrows.
‘You can speak in front of Miss Carlisle,’ said Noah.
‘Another break-in. At the lighthouse.’
‘Bluff point?’
‘That’s the one. Theo called up, says he’s got pictures.’
‘CCTV?’
Colleen shrugged. ‘Maybe he sketched the fella. He’s got a lot of time on his hands hasn’t he?’
When the woman had gone, Noah looked down at his desk, thinking. ‘Listen, I know this is a little odd,’ he said finally, ‘But would you like to come with me?’
‘Me? I mean, isn’t this official police business?’
‘Well, sure it is, but you’d be assisting the Garda by providing vital outside expertise.’
‘Expertise? I’m in publishing. Do you want me to read his book?’
Noah gave a half-smile.
‘No, you see Theo – he’s the lighthouse keeper – he’s not a particularly social man. I guess that’s part of the job description, being a loner out there on the rocks. But if you tag along, he’s much more likely to be polite. And I’m guessing he’ll open up when he sees you.’ The smile widened. ‘Plus the sight of that lighthouse is pretty spectacular.’
Eliza knew she should say no and get on with her day – she was on vacation after all – but at the same time she was intrigued. A break-in at a castle and now at a lighthouse; it was like a detective novel come to life. She knew she’d kick herself if she missed out on this, however awkward it might be.
‘As long as you don’t think I’ll get in the way.’
‘No, not at all. It’ll brighten up my whole day.’
Eliza was surprised to see Noah blush slightly as he said this.
‘Well then, how can I refuse?’ she smiled.
Taking his cap from an old-fashioned hat-stand, Noah held the station door open for her. Such manners: Eliza knew her mother would swoon over Noah. That and the uniform. And the movie-star cheekbones. Not here for romance, remember? She reminded herself. And this isn’t a date. He’s just making amends for Mrs. Brennan: unofficial tourist officer, isn’t that what he said the other day?
She followed Noah out of the station and out into the street.
‘The car’s down by the port,’ he said, ‘The roads around here…’ he shrugged. ‘Sometimes it’s easier to leave it wherever it is than move it fifty metres.’
The fairy lights strung along the front were lit up and sparkling – it was barely three thirty and it was already near dark. It was true what she had said: how could she turn down such a unique opportunity? The old Eliza, the one who lived in LA and never saw the sea, the one who had been in the same job for the best part of a decade, the one who did the same stop-start freeway commute every day, that Eliza would have said no: too weird, too awkward, too random. And besides, wasn’t she supposed to be having some ‘alone time’ on this vacation? But since she had taken that strange and fateful turn into Clove Cove, Eliza’s life had become a series of small adventures. She had literally fallen down a rabbit hole and found herself in a wonderful upside-down world: the blue-eyed Lord, being handed the keys to a cute little bookshop and now a private trip to a lighthouse! She was playing it cool, but she was childishly excited by the prospect.
They passed a grocery store and Noah waved at the man rearranging the vegetables in crates outside. ‘How are ya, Guard?’ he called.
‘Just fine, Rory.’
‘You need any spouts or carrots for the ol’ Christmas feast? They’re going fast, so they are.’
Eliza saw a flicker of a frown cross Noah’s brow.
‘No, not just now,’ he said. ‘Although if you’ve any spare at the end of the week, you did hear that Greg Kennedy lost his job on the railways?’
‘Aye, I did that,’ nodded Rory. ‘There’s a rumor they’re going to close the whole branch line to Kilmara.’
‘Well, either way, it’s going to be tight for the Kennedys this Christmas, so…’
‘Way ahead of you, Guard, so I am,’ said the grocer, clapping Noah on the back. ‘Got a wee Christmas box going behind the counter been asking for donations from customers on the sly. We’ll be like Santy himself.’
‘Good man you are,’ smiled Noah, although his expression wobbled a little when Rory gave him another whack on the shoulder.
‘Nollaig Shona Duit, eh Guard?’ Rory called as he carried a crate of potatoes back into the store.
‘Ablythe Yuletide, yourself Rory’.
‘No-lig what?’ whispered Eliza as they walked on. ‘What’s that?’
‘It means “Happy Christmas to you” in Irish. Roughly anyway. And ‘Ablythe Yuletide’ is much the same, but in Ullans, Ulster Scots because Rory’s from Northern Ireland. It’s confusing, I know.’
Eliza turned away to hide a broad smile. It really was just like – how had Moira put it? – an immersive art experience. Eliza was getting to see life in an Irish village from the inside and she knew just how lucky she was, especially as she was accompanying Noah who seemed to be right at the heart of everything. As they moved down towards the port, Noah could barely walk ten paces without hailing a dog-walker or exchanging chit-chat with a shopper. Perhaps Eliza had spent too long in LA, but in the States she only saw cops in her rear-view mirror; this was real hands-on policing where the Guard already knew your name and actually had time to listen to you.
Just before the harbor, Noah crossed to speak to an old man dressed in tweeds, bent over a gnarled walking stick.
‘Hey there Mr. Fitzgerald,’ said Noah. ‘How’s Jimbo?’
The man peered up at him with rheumy eyes.
‘Ah, he’s run off again, Noah. Doesn’t like the cold; the ol’ boiler’s on the blink again. I think he’s sneaking off to Anna Hervey’s across the way.’
‘That won’t do, will it?’ said Noah, before lowering his voice. ‘Would you like me to have a word with Mrs. Hervey?’
‘Would you Noah? You’re a good lad. I do miss Jim when he’s gone.’
‘Sure, no problem Mr. F. And how’s about I see what I can do about the boiler too?’
‘Oh no, I wouldn’t want to be any fuss.’
‘No trouble at all. You sit tight and I’ll see what I can do.’
The old man thanked them and hobbled off on his way. At the patrol car, Noah opened the door for Eliza and they set off, winding up out of the port.
‘Who was that old man?’ asked Eliza.
‘Mr. Fitzgerald? Oh, he was a shipwright, used to build boats, back when folks needed them here. The Fitzgeralds were a big family around here at one time, but his boys have moved to America and his wife, Beverly, well she passed on five years ago. He struggles financially, I think. A lot of folks around here do. It’s a big problem when an entire industry like fishing dies out. There aren’t any safety nets, if you’ll excuse the pun.’
‘And who’s Jimbo?’
‘His cat, Mr. F’s pride and joy. Trouble is, Jimbo’s like all cats and he’ll go wherever there’s food and warmth. My guess is that the heating’s been off for a while at Mr. Fi
tzgerald’s place.’
Eliza nodded thoughtfully.
‘So what will you do?’
‘I’ll speak to his neighbor. She’s a grand old lady; I think she just enjoys Jimbo’s company too. And I’ll give the gas people a ring, see if we can work something out.’
‘Is that actually part of your job?’
He chuckled. ‘Not really, but if there’s no one else, then it’s down to the rest of us isn’t it? Out here on the edge, it’s easy to get forgotten and I dare say Moira’s told you a bit about that with the library service. But we muddle by, between me and the priest and people being neighborly.’
Eliza glanced across. ‘They rely on you, I can see that.’
‘Sure, but that’s nice, isn’t it? To be needed?’
‘I’m not sure everyone would look at it that way.’
‘Ach, well then they’d be missing out on all this, wouldn’t they?’ he said, raising a hand to indicate the Port below them. ‘What’s better than being part of all this?’
They drove up into the dusk, the headlights cutting through the drizzle – or was it fog? – it was a perfect night for visiting a lighthouse, supposed Eliza; slightly eerie, the kind of night you’d expect to see a sinister hitchhiker standing at the crossroads. Or maybe she’d spent too long watching schlocky horror movies as a teenager.
‘There it is,’ he said.
‘Where?’
She sat forward, wiping a hand across the foggy windscreen. All she could see was mist and droplets of water running down the glass. And then suddenly, there was the beam of the light cutting through the gloom. Sweeping around in a wide arc, blurry yellow light illuminating the headland, then the black sea, then swooping across the road in front of them.
‘Oh my word,’ she said, eyes wide. ‘That’s amazing.’
And as they approached, Eliza could now see the tall tower, white and red stripes, the disks of the lens shimmering as they turned. Noah drove up the twisty road towards the tower, pulling up next to a barred gate.
‘This is as close as we can get,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to walk from here.’
