Rose Foley asked after her mother as she paid for her groceries. ‘Tell her I said hello, and not to leave it so long before she comes back up to visit us.’
‘Rose, by any chance do you know where Rob O’Neill lives?’ she asked as she packed the items in her bag.
‘That scallywag of a nephew of mine lives up on the coast road, about half a mile past Grogan’s house,’ she replied. ‘You can’t miss it! It’s the old schoolhouse.’
The car bumped along the muddy road between the overgrown hedgerows as she searched for the house, coming to a halt outside the stone schoolhouse with its new windows and bright painted gate. His car was there but knocking on the door she got no answer. Maybe she could just shove a note in the letterbox? She wanted to pay him but had no idea how much all the work and repairs had cost. In an attempt to find him she walked around the back of the building to find Rob busy varnishing a garden table and chair set in the middle of a grassy area overlooking the beach. The front of the schoolhouse had been deceptive: the back looked nothing like a school building. It had tall almost roof-to-floor windows giving a magnificent view of the sea, with glass panels built into the slanting roof.
‘Wow, it’s wonderful.’
He stopped what he was doing and came over to her immediately, wiping his hands, followed by a black and white Jack Russell-type mongrel.
‘I got your mower fixed and the roof done.’
‘That’s why I came.’ She grinned. ‘Thanks so much for all your work. I want to find out how much I owe you.’
‘Three hundred should do it.’
‘Your house looks amazing,’ she said as she pulled the crisp fifty-euro notes she’d got from the pass machine in Galway from her purse.
‘I was going to take a break,’ he said, slipping the notes into the pocket of his jeans. ‘Do you fancy a coffee and Tippy and I will give you a tour of the place.’
‘Are you sure I’m not holding you up? I’d love to see what it’s like on the inside.’
Rob led her in through a high bright glass and pine patio door to a huge kitchen area with simple oak units and a long oak table and chairs. The sun splashed on to the white walls, picking out the granite-covered chimney breast, and highlighting a scatter of oil paintings and modern graphic prints hanging on the opposite wall.
‘It’s beautiful, Rob,’ she said, walking around, standing at the island unit with its magnificent view of the coast. ‘It must be fun cooking here!’
A staircase divided it from the open-plan living area with another fireplace, two huge couches and a wall with a complete sound system, flat-screen TV and DVD player.
She laughed when she spotted the old-fashioned blackboard left down the back wall.
‘Well, I couldn’t have a schoolhouse without having a blackboard!’
Unable to resist she got a piece of chalk and wrote her name and drew a big smiley sun on it.
A small buttercup-coloured bedroom with view of the front yard and a storage room completed the downstairs.
She followed him as he led her upstairs unable to disguise her envy when he opened the door of the main bedroom. The room held a large bed which faced the tall pointed windows with the breathtaking view of the sea and beach below. The room was cream and white with three giant Aran-patterned cushions on the bed.
‘My mother knitted those for me,’ he confided.
The room was neat and clean, with a walk-in wardrobe to one side where she noticed everything folded and hanging in its correct place. A simple white bathroom with a glorious power shower and another bedroom, where he was fitting wardrobes, completed the upstairs.
‘It’s so amazing, I can’t believe it was ever a schoolhouse.’
‘It’s taken me three years to get this far and it’s been a huge amount of work,’ he admitted candidly. ‘I’ve done most of it myself but I hope that I have managed to retain some of the character of the place.’
‘Rob, it’s lovely. I wish my sister Grace could see it. She’s an architect,’ she explained. ‘She’d love it.’
As they sat and had coffee back downstairs he told her how he had managed to buy it. ‘My father phoned me and told me it was going to auction. I was working in Manchester at the time, but I knew the building and the location. It had been empty for about five years, windows smashed, partly boarded up, but I went to school here with the rest of my brothers so I knew it very well. They merged the boys’ and the girls’ school and luckily for me this was the one put up for sale. I put in a bid, it was probably a bit higher than most so I managed to get it. I got home that summer and put in for planning permission and by the autumn I had moved back.’
‘Well, you’ve done a wonderful job on it,’ she complimented him, genuinely impressed with his work.
‘Aye, it’s been a bit of a long road, but it’s worth it.’
She had seen no sign of a wife or girlfriend and was curious as to why he had put so much work into it.
‘I told you I went to school here. Well, I sat at a desk over there against that very wall. I had Mr Horan our teacher driven demented,’ he said, laughing aloud. ‘I wasn’t good at school, all I wanted was to kick football in the yard and play hurling with my brothers. Mr Horan told me repeatedly that I was hopeless and that he didn’t expect much of me. I was ten years old and his words hit me hard. Isn’t it funny how someone not believing in you can sometimes spur you on to do things you might not have imagined doing?’
Despite his smile Anna could still see the hurt in his eyes and was tempted to reach for his hand.
‘I guess that sort of makes me crazy for buying this place.’
The dog whined to be let out and they watched her take off like a bolt of lightning across the lawn after a seagull, barking like crazy.
‘Do you fancy a walk on the beach?’ he asked, surprising her. ‘Tippy likes to run around and chase the waves.’
Anna thanked heaven she was wearing her loafers as they descended the steps. The dog raced between them as they fell into step together on the almost-empty beach, the waves rushing towards the sand.
‘What about you?’ he asked.
‘Well, I’m the opposite of you,’ she said honestly, staring at a sailing boat in the distance. ‘I was a swot at school. I always had my nose stuck in a book! Studying and reading and learning came easily to me. I loved poetry and drama and after studying English in college I decided I wanted to lose myself in the world of academia. Now I’m a junior lecturer teaching in the English Department in Trinity, specializing in Anglo-Irish Literature.’
‘I always hated poetry,’ he admitted, his blue eyes honest and direct. ‘I could never understand why someone wouldn’t say straight out what they thought. Poems were always like a riddle comparing something to something else, instead of loving it for itself.’
‘Maybe you’re right.’ She was taken aback by his insight and his utter lack of literary pretension.
‘Lately maybe I’ve begun to realize that there is more to life than words written on pages,’ she confessed. ‘I guess spending time up here in Gran’s place has made me see that.’
‘That’s a good thing then,’ he said firmly as he threw a piece of stick for the dog who ran demented after it and chased back and dropped it at his feet. He laughed. ‘She thinks she’s a retriever.’
As they walked back up the sand-covered steps fashioned from old timber railway sleepers, Rob surprised her again by asking her to stay for dinner.
‘It’s only chicken curry,’ he warned. ‘You’ll be saving me from another lonely bachelor dinner.’
Anna swallowed hard. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had offered to cook something for her. ‘Sure,’ she said lightly.
She watched as he cut up chicken breast and onions, the scent of garlic and curry powder and chilli filling the kitchen as they chatted easily. She set the table, managed to find the mango chutney he’d insisted he had at the back of his cupboard and put together a green salad.
The curry was hot
and spicy and she reached for the glass of iced water on the table as he threw back his head and laughed.
‘I thought you said you went easy on the chilli!’
‘I did.’
Her tastebuds got used to it and after a few minutes she was able to carry on the conversation without looking too hot and flushed.
‘I do a creamy smooth korma,’ she teased, ‘you’ll have to taste that.’
‘I’ll hold you to it,’ he said, getting up and fetching two bottles of cold beer from the fridge.
They ate and chatted until it got dark; Anna was embarrassed when she saw the time. ‘I’d better get going,’ she apologized, thanking him for the food.
‘You could stay,’ he said slowly, his eyes never leaving her face.
Anna took a breath. She was tempted to nod and say yes but something was holding her back. Call it being old-fashioned but she wasn’t the type for casual relationships.
‘I’m sorry, Rob, but I really have to go.’
‘Let me walk you out,’ he offered politely. The dog followed them out into the darkness.
The night was still, the moon wobbling above them as he reached down and kissed her, his lips warm. Anna, surprised by her own response, kissed him back. The dark shape of the hedges and field and stone walls all spun together as she clung to him.
‘No changing your mind?’ he teased.
‘No!’ She burst out giggling as she fished for her keys. She fiddled, trying to start the engine, and flicked on the lights. The car jumped to life and she turned and drove back along the country road.
Chapter Thirty-two
There wasn’t sight nor sound of Rob the next day and Anna had to admit she was disappointed. Maybe she was reading the signals wrong and, as suspected, he already had a girlfriend or wife stashed away somewhere. Annoyed, she returned to her papers, spending the day immersing herself in the work of Augusta, Lady Gregory, Yeats’s patron and supporter.
If Rob O’Neill wasn’t interested in her that was fine; he was a nice guy but certainly not the type she normally fancied. The truth was that though they got on well and were easy with each other, he was totally different from any man she had ever gone out with before. They had nothing in common. Her mother maintained opposites attract, but sheer logic dictated that there was no point getting involved with someone who was your polar opposite!
She had worked till two a.m., delighted with her progress, her mobile switched off. Tomorrow, if there were no distractions, she should probably have the rest of the chapter done.
She set to work on the laptop after breakfast and took a break for a bowl of soup and some brown bread at lunchtime. Needing to clear her head she pulled on a light fleece and headed across the lane and down towards the strand. The beach was once again empty and she walked near the water’s edge where the waves slapped against the sand. There were dark clouds in the distance and the forecast had mentioned rain. She was standing daydreaming when she noticed the small yappy dog approach her.
‘Tippy?’ she said hesitantly. The dog jumped enthusiastically on her legs.
‘Heel! Heel!’ called Rob uselessly as the dog did a lap around Anna’s feet. ‘Sorry, but she won’t do a thing I tell her!’
Anna laughed aloud as the dog cocked one ear at her.
‘I called by the house and saw the car was there and the windows were open so I guessed you’d gone for a walk.’
‘I needed a bit of fresh air,’ she admitted. ‘I was going screwy-eyed from the computer.’
‘Take a break then,’ he suggested. ‘I’m going down to Corry’s old lighthouse. I just wondered if you might be interested in coming along for the ride?’
She studied him for a minute. He was wearing old jeans, a shirt and a knitted navy sweater, his skin tanned, his eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses honest and steadfast. He seemed completely unaware of how attractive he was.
‘We could see its light from here when I was a kid,’ she remembered. ‘I used to pretend when I was lying in the dark that someone was sending me a secret message in code.’
‘Anna, come on, leave the work,’ he urged, his face serious.
She had to admit she was tempted, as it was years since she’d been down near the lighthouse. Besides, there was no comparison between spending an afternoon in his company or in that of Lady Gregory.
‘OK! OK!’ she agreed.
Corry’s lighthouse was perched on a rocky promontory overlooking the Atlantic. For a hundred years it had warned sailors of the rocks and treacherous conditions that lay hidden beneath the waves.
‘It was sold four months ago,’ he explained as they drew up as near as they could, parking his Land Rover on the muddy path. ‘There’s three acres of land with it.’
Anna studied the shabby tower of the lighthouse. It looked so decrepit now its beacon of light was gone. It saddened her to think of its yellow beam no longer illuminating this wild part of the coastline.
‘What will happen to it?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ he shrugged. ‘I haven’t quite decided yet.’
‘You haven’t decided!’
‘I bought it from the fisheries department,’ he admitted, pulling a set of keys from his pocket, looking like a kid who has just won a big prize. ‘I couldn’t bear to see it falling down. Maybe it’s a bit of a mad project but restoring a lighthouse, that’s got to be something!’
Anna could see the enthusiasm written all over his face.
‘Do you want to see inside it?’
Anna nodded, holding her breath as the heavy wooden door opened. There was a musty smell inside and the ground-floor windows were covered in grime and dirt and spiders’ webs. They raced around the building like two kids, Tippy following them as they climbed the big spiral staircase. Up and up, a sitting room and small kitchen, two bedrooms, a storage room; the views were magnificent and Anna gasped when she stumbled into the lamp room. The huge central lamp stood like a giant eye in the middle of the room.
‘Does it work?’ she enquired.
‘Unfortunately no,’ he admitted. ‘It went out of service about ten years ago; the last lighthouse keeper left here in 1989.’
‘Can you get it working again?’
‘I’m not sure but I intend giving it a good try. I heard there’s a man living over near Spiddal who knows how to repair these things.’
‘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.
The Matchmaker Page 16
