In a Moment

by Caroline Finnerty

  “You found me okay, then?” he said, grinning at her.

  “Just about,” she smiled back.

  “Come on in. Dave is dying to see you.”

  Zoe noted that he was dressed even more casually today – he was wearing jeans and a pair of green Hunter Wellington boots and the wax jacket was now replaced with a fleece, under which he wore a red check shirt. His blue eyes twinkled as he spoke and his dark hair was long but it suited him like that. His skin had a shadow of stubble. She had to admit he looked quite handsome, in a rugged kind of way.

  Zoe walked into the country kitchen. Pots of herbs were scattered randomly on the windowsills, with jugs of wild flowers decorating the place. There was a big farmhouse table with mismatched chairs.

  Dave was curled up in his basket in front of an Aga on which a kettle was boiling. When she stroked his ears, he opened up his brown eyes and wagged his tail. She was amazed to see how much he had grown. She had brought him some doggy treats and a red collar with his name on it. She played with him while he tried to nip her fingers with his razor-sharp teeth. As Steve recounted his antics during the week, she could tell that he had already grown very attached to him.

  “Ah, the kettle is boiled.” Steve made tea in a blue-and-white teapot and then left it to draw while he laid out a loaf of rustic bread and an earthenware dish of his homemade pâté.

  He poured two mugs of tea – one mug was spotty and the other had a picture of a pig.

  “Spots or pig?” he asked, holding up both mugs.

  “Erm – oh, go on, I’ll go for the pig!” she laughed. She sat at the table while Dave snuggled blissfully in her arms.

  He sawed through the loaf of rustic bread and served it to her spread thickly with his pâté.

  She picked up the thick crusted bread and bit a piece off.

  “Well?” he asked after she had chewed the mouthful.

  “You made this yourself?” Zoe said.

  “Of course!”

  “It tastes really good . . . mmmm . . .” She chewed some more. “It’s completely different to the supermarket brands.”

  “That’s because I only use locally sourced ingredients – everything I use comes from the farmers around here.” He gestured in a circular motion.

  When she had finished that, he took out a grey slate cheeseboard with a selection of smoked cheeses that he had cured himself and a small bowl of pitted olives for her to nibble on. She loved everything and made sure he knew it.

  After lunch they strolled along the deserted beach, with Steve carrying Dave in his arms. She was amazed they had so much to talk about.

  “How long have you lived here?” she asked.

  “I bought it a few years back – I always used to come walking down here at the weekends when I was working in the bank up in Dublin.”

  “You used to work in a bank?” Zoe was genuinely shocked. He looked nothing like the slick banker types with their polished shoes and tailored suits.

  “Uh-huh,” he nodded. “But I got tired of the rat race. I was sick of losing sleep over shareholder dividends and hedge funds – I wanted to do something I enjoyed. I’m a great believer in the saying ‘Do a job you love and you’ll never do a day’s work in your life’ so that’s what I did.”

  “What, you just handed in your notice and moved out here?”

  “Well, not quite as dramatic as that – I had always loved food and cooking. My mother was a great one for the family dinners when we were growing up. And as I grew up on a farm I loved how everything grown on the land had a use. So I got the idea of starting my own small business. I started small, just making some chutneys and jams first and selling them on the weekends while I still worked in the bank during the week. But I got a great reaction so I began adding more produce, bread and scones and then the pâté and it just grew from there. So two years ago, I decided to take the plunge. I handed in my notice to the bank, put my apartment in the IFSC up for sale and started looking around for somewhere to live. One day I was walking down here and looked up at the derelict cottage and thought it was a beautiful setting, out on its own like that with nobody next or near you. But you should have seen the state of it! There were holes in the roof and grass growing out of the chimney! So I approached the farmer whose land it was on and he agreed to sell it to me but even the solicitor told me not to buy it, it was that rundown. I’ve spent the last few years doing it up in bits and pieces – I love that pottering around doing jobs, planning what project I’ll take on next. Last year I extended the kitchen – that’s where I make all my produce and I’ve sown a herb garden and vegetable patch.”

  “It really is the most amazing place I’ve ever seen. Dave is going to love exploring all around here when his leg is mended.”

  When they walked back up the dunes to the house, Steve put a snoozing Dave into his basket beside the Aga.

  “C’mon till I show you the rest of the place.”

  He led her around the cosy rooms, all simply decorated with wooden floorboards and cream-painted walls. The bedrooms had cast-iron beds and small wooden dressing-tables.

  After he had stuffed her with more of his food and chatted some more, Zoe reluctantly said her goodbyes. It was getting dark out and she didn’t want to get lost on these roads with no signposts.

  As soon as she had pulled out of his laneway, she knew she was seriously starting to like him but she really didn’t want that to happen. As soon as she opened herself up to people, things never went her way. So she tried to tell herself to stop getting her hopes up. It was all just for Dave anyway. Plus he was so different to her usual type. Normally she went for the on-trend men, usually creative types from the fashion industry or the Dublin art scene. It wasn’t that she chose these men – rather, because of her job, it meant these were normally the type she socialised with. But Steve was the antithesis of them. When she had first met him he had been wearing cords and a bottle-green wax jacket; she could no more imagine any of her exes in that get-up than she could imagine herself running a marathon. All her exes either had smooth baby’s-bottom cheeks or carefully maintained designer stubble, but Steve looked as though he didn’t shave from one end of the week to the next. He was what you might describe as a ‘man’s man’, rough and ready. She knew he would also probably wrap you in his strong arms and hold you tight against his chest all night.

  She dialled Emma’s number.

  “Well, is he a psycho killer?” Emma asked.

  “No!” Zoe laughed. “Oh Emma, he’s great – the more I get to know him the more I know I’m falling for him. I’m so scared though.”

  “Of what?”

  “The unknown . . . letting go . . . seeing where life takes me . . .”

  “Zoe, you have to let your guard down sometime,” Emma said gently.

  “I know, Em, I know.”

  * * *

  On Sunday morning, Zoe’s phone buzzed on her bedside locker. Sleepily she picked it up and saw it was Steve. She quickly answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning to you, Zoe.”

  Even the way he said good morning was full of infectious cheer.

  “Morning, Steve. How’s Dave?”

  “He’s doing great altogether – but he’s getting a bit fond of my bed now.”

  Zoe laughed.

  “I’m just ringing to check that you got home all right last night but I’m guessing you did?”

  “Uh-huh, it’s actually a lot closer to the city than I had thought but yet it feels like you’re on the edge of the world out there.”

  “That’s the beauty of it. Look, Zoe, I hope you don’t mind but I was also calling to ask you something. Now tell me if you think I’m being a bit presumptuous but – well, I was wondering – well, y’see, there’s this ball on – Irish Food Producers Association – it’s an annual thing. Now I hate the bloody thing but, well, I was wondering if you would like to accompany me?”

  “I would love that.”

  “Oh, thank God!”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “I was worried the only reason you stayed in contact was because of Dave.”

  Zoe was taken aback by his honesty. “I actually thought you were doing the same thing!” she said, laughing. “When is it on?”

  “This Friday.”

  “This Friday! Talk about short notice. I’ll have to get a gúna sorted!”

  “I know, I’m sorry. It’s black-tie too. I wasn’t even going to go this year and then, I thought, well . . . I thought it would be nice to go together.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “It’s in Dublin anyway so you won’t have to go too far – I have a friend who will look after Dave for me so at least he’s sorted. If I pick you up about eight, is that okay?”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Zoe lay back on the pillow and smiled. She felt like a giddy teenager. He had said he liked her. He really liked her back and not just because of Dave. She would make sure she looked fantastic on Friday so that he would be glad he brought her. She would need to call around to Emma and see if she had any great dresses – she used to be always going to weddings and fancy black-tie things so she should have something. She couldn’t imagine him in a tux though. She tried to picture him but nothing was coming. She wanted to jump up and down and scream.

  13

  Zoe rooted through Emma’s wardrobe while Emma sat on edge of the bed chatting to her.

  “What do you think of this one?” Zoe took out a crimson crêpe-de-chine dress and held it up against her.

  “I wore that to the Snow Ball myself and Adam went to three years ago – it’s gorgeous on.”

  “I remember seeing photos of it on you – it was fab. Do you think it will fit me though?” Zoe was looking at the narrow bodice doubtfully.

  “Of course it will – sure we’re the same size.”

  Zoe looked at Emma’s tiny frame and, knowing full well that they weren’t, she decided not to say anything. “I’ll try it on.”

  She got undressed and Emma helped her into the dress and zipped it up the back.

  “There – it’s stunning on you.”

  “I don’t know – look at my tummy – it does nothing to disguise it.”

  “What tummy? You’re ridiculous.”

  “I’d feel too self-conscious – sorry.”

  She got out of the dress and looked through some more on the rail.

  “This one is beautiful – so elegant.” She held out a black satin, strapless number.

  “I wore that to a black-tie wedding – I just clipped on a wine corsage to decorate it. I’m sure I still have it somewhere.”

  As Zoe thumbed through the dresses Emma had a flash of the way her life used to be. Each dress marked a different occasion in their life. There was the dress she wore to their engagement party. She even had held onto the jersey summer dress she was wearing the night she and Adam had first kissed in San Francisco.

  It’s like my life in dresses. She smiled sadly.

  “Oh my God – this one is beautiful!”

  It was an empire-line full-length lace gown. The delicate lace was champagne in colour but it was spun with a fine gold thread and it had tiny beads sewn on all over.

  “I think I got that one in a vintage shop actually – it’s very Pride and Prejudice. It would be fabulous on your dark colouring.”

  Zoe slipped into the dress and stood in front of the full-length mirror.

  “It’s perfect on you,” Emma said.

  Zoe held her hair up messily with her hand and twirled in front of the mirror. The delicate shoulders of the dress and the empire line made her feel so feminine.

  “It is amazing, Em! Are you sure you don’t mind me wearing it?”

  “Of course not – sure, when am I going to wear it again?”

  Zoe said nothing.

  “So you really like him?” Emma asked.

  “Well, it is still early days but yeah – I don’t know what it is – wait until you see him, Em, he’s the complete opposite of my usual type but, I don’t know, every time I think about him I feel all – all tingly and I get flutters in my tummy. I just get so excited!”

  “Well, he’s going to be blown away when he sees you in that dress.”

  “I hope to God you’re right, Em!”

  She took off the dress then and folded it up neatly so as not to crease it. Emma loaned her a pair of shoes and pearl earrings.

  “You’re a star!”

  “Not at all – I’m just glad to see you happy.”

  “I’m sorry, Emma – I’m being really thoughtless, amn’t I?” Zoe said seriously.

  “On the contrary, it’s great to see you smiling and happy – you deserve it.”

  “Are things any better with you and Adam?” Zoe asked carefully.

  Emma shook her head.

  “Oh, Emma!” Zoe hugged her tight while Emma did her best to try to keep back the tears that were springing into her eyes.

  14

  While the rest of their friends were still living the helter-skelter single life – getting pissed most nights of the week, stumbling out of sweaty night-clubs and spending the rest of their time hung over – Adam and Emma were busy playing grown-ups. Both held down proper jobs, rented an apartment in the city centre and saved whatever money wasn’t used to pay bills for a deposit on a house.

  The spare room in their apartment was stuffed full of bits of furniture and antiques that Emma had bought over the years, just waiting on her dream home to put them into. When they had finally saved up enough for the deposit they thought the hard part was over, but finding the right house for them proved more difficult than they had originally anticipated. Inevitably, there were none that were right for them. Any that they liked were either too expensive or miles away from anywhere, with no public transport. Then there were those that looked fine from the outside but once you set foot inside you could see the rising damp and floorboards crawling with woodworm and there were so many with teeny tiny gardens where two people couldn’t fit together at the same time, let alone a deck-chair. But they weren’t prepared to settle – this wasn’t to be just a starter home for them – this would be the house that they would live in for the rest of their lives, so they had to get it right.

  Just as they were starting to question themselves, wondering if they were being too picky and if they would ever find their elusive dream home, Zoe had mentioned that an old lady living near her mother on Cherry Tree Road had passed away recently and that the house was now up for sale. Emma knew the house she was talking about. She had always loved it. It was an old two-storey red-brick Victorian house with white sash windows. The front door was painted submarine yellow with a white wooden surround and a semi-circular overhead stained-glass pane. The garden at the front of the house had a small wrought-iron railing and during the summer months it was always blooming with hydrangeas, hyacinths and sweet peas so the scent lifted you up as you walked past. Emma’s heart had somersaulted when she had heard it was for sale and she knew in her bones this house was for them. She had phoned the estate agent straight away to arrange a viewing for that evening.

  As Adam and Emma had walked through the house with the estate agent, their excitement began to build. So far it had ticked all their boxes plus more. It still retained all the original features, like the shutters on the windows and the ceiling cornicing. Each bedroom still had its tiled fireplace. They could see it was in need of some modernisation but that would be just cosmetic. They had to hold their breath as the agent led them out into the south-facing back garden. It had a long rolling lawn, with a small greenhouse on one side and a fragrant herb garden on the other, and as they walked down the winding path they saw there were two old apple trees, rhubarb plants and a blackcurrant bush. They could see themselves living in this house and had to try hard to suppress their eagerness in front of the estate agent. The agent had told them that the deceased lady’s son was looking for a quick sale as he didn’t live in Ireland and had no intention of trying to manage
the house from overseas so they had put an offer in on the spot and they were thrilled to hear that it was accepted that very same day. Once the legals had gone through and the paperwork was signed they had picked up the keys to their new home and had moved in a few weeks after.

  They instantly set about stripping down the floral wallpapers and had repainted the whole house from top to bottom, splashing out a small fortune on Farrow & Ball paint. They pulled up the carpets to expose the original oak floorboards. Adam had sanded down the wood and varnished them himself and they scattered rugs across them to create warmth in the room. They replaced the dated velvet curtains in each room with modern damask fabrics. In the kitchen they kept the original Belfast sink and black-and-white chequered tiles. As they couldn’t afford to replace the kitchen, they painted the cupboard doors in duck-egg blue to brighten the place up. Emma now had a home for all the bits and bobs she had built up over the years. She was delighted when a small cross-legged writing bureau that she had found in a salvage yard fitted neatly into the alcove in their dining room and they now had room in their bedroom for the polished mahogany chest of drawers that she had come across in a car-boot sale.

  They were so proud of their home; all their hard work had made it all come together and now it had their stamp firmly on it. 59 Cherry Tree Road quickly became the focal point for all their friends; its central location meant they would usually all meet there first before heading into town or else would come home for a night-cap after a heavy night out. There was always someone coming and going; calling in for tea or dropping by on their way into town.