A Taste for It

by Monica McInerney

  Dominic looked over at her. “That was quick work.”

  “I was just being friendly,” she said, slightly taken aback by what he was inferring.

  He spoke calmly. “I didn’t mean quick work on your part, I meant on Cormac’s. And I’m not being critical. I’m not surprised in the least that you have an admirer. You’re a very attractive woman.”

  As he gave her a long look, she suddenly had a flash of the goings-on the night before. She could feel the blush rising in her face.

  Dominic spoke again. “I was just commenting on his persistence. I’m sorry if you took it as an insult.”

  She looked at him, about to protest when something in the sincerity of his look stopped her. She took a deep breath, prayed for a sudden dose of maturity and gave what she hoped was a gracious smile.

  He drove on to show her around Galway before they checked into their hotel. As he pointed out several Galway landmarks she gazed across at him, trying to work him out. He seemed so controlled most of the time, yet every now and then she would get a glimpse of something else.

  “Are you having trouble understanding my accent? You seem to be giving me an odd look,” he asked suddenly.

  “Not at all,” she said quickly. “I was just looking at the view through your window.”

  Dominic looked through the window. Outside was nothing but a row of very ordinary-looking warehouses.

  “Yes, they certainly look very interesting,” he said mildly.

  Embarrassed at being caught looking at him, Maura was staring fixedly out of her side of the car when Dominic spoke again a few moments later. “There’s a booklet in the glove compartment that you might like to see too. Rita gave me quite a collection before we left.”

  It was a beautifully produced guide to Galway, with a special section devoted to the history of the Claddagh rings.

  “Oh, I’ve always loved those rings,” she exclaimed, looking at a photograph of a delicately fashioned silver one and reading aloud the explanation of the simple design. “With these hands I give you my heart and crown it with my love,” she read softly to herself. “Oh, that’s lovely.” Nick had asked her to bring a special gift back for him to give to Fran. A Claddagh ring would be perfect.

  She was about to ask Dominic if they would be difficult to find, when she nearly laughed aloud. As they drove down the main shopping street, every second shop seemed to be selling them or boasting a sign saying Home of the Claddagh Ring. The problem wouldn’t be finding one but finding a unique one, she realised.

  She liked the look of Galway very much. It was the most vibrant city she had ever seen. The winding streets and footpaths were crowded with people and cars and bicycles, all jostling for space. Every now and then the cars would come to a standstill as the footpaths overflowed, and people quite casually walked out onto the road as though that was their territory too.

  There was the lively mix of people she had also noticed in Dublin. Businesspeople walking beside wide-eyed couples who were obviously tourists. Backpackers, hippies, New Agers, musicians, buskers, farmers. The streets of Galway were like a bubbling stream of all sorts of people. Dublin had felt busy but this was positively teeming with life.

  The sun finally made an appearance for the day as they pulled up in front of their hotel, the Great Southern, right in the centre of the city.

  “We’ve a busy day here tomorrow, haven’t we?” Dominic asked, as he unloaded her suitcases from the car.

  Maura nodded. “Five appointments altogether,” she answered. “But no more slides until Ennis, thank God.”

  “That’s a shame,” he answered surprisingly. “I enjoyed your slide show very much, I learnt a lot myself.”

  She looked quickly across at him, pleased and embarrassed at his praise. They walked into the foyer and she was about to speak again when they both heard an all too familiar sound.

  “Dominic?” the whining drawl called.

  They both spun around. Carla was curled up in a corner of a sofa near the reception desk. Her mascara was smudged, her face blotchy and she looked as if she had been crying.

  Maura looked at her in astonishment. Where on earth had she come from? Wasn’t she supposed to be halfway to Dublin? She glanced across at Dominic and saw a nerve twitch in his cheek. She was amazed at his self-control.

  “Carla, why aren’t you on that train?” he asked in a suspiciously low voice.

  Carla started to cry again, climbing up from the sofa and moving closer to Dominic, speaking in a child-like voice again. “I didn’t like it, there were all these people crowded around me, shouting across at each other. I hated it. I made them stop and let me off, I couldn’t . . .” She broke down in tears again.

  Maura couldn’t believe her eyes or ears. The girl was behaving like a five-year-old. Fighting her own curiosity, she diplomatically moved away. She heard Dominic’s murmuring voice and watched out of the corner of her eye as Carla threw her arms around him. Dominic stood perfectly still, not responding.

  ‘Trouble in banker’s paradise,’ Maura thought mischievously, as she walked up to the reception desk, praying there’d be no mix-up with the room tonight. Three of them together in one room would be just a bit too much.

  With her own room key securely in one hand and her luggage in the other, she waited politely for an opportunity to speak to Dominic. Unless there was another train back to Dublin tonight and he somehow managed to convince Carla to climb aboard, she had a suspicion he was going to be kept very busy this evening soothing his anxious girlfriend.

  He suddenly caught her eye from where he sat on the sofa and after a quick word to Carla, stood up and came over to Maura.

  “I’m sorry about this,” he apologised, running his fingers through his hair anxiously. “She’s not very well at the moment and is a bit upset.”

  A bit upset? Hysterical was probably closer to the mark, Maura thought.

  Dominic was looking concerned. “I’d hoped to take you to one of the pubs or a restaurant, for a meal tonight, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to do that after all.” He nodded toward Carla. “Will you be able to manage with room service, or in the restaurant in the hotel?” he asked.

  She was unexpectedly touched by his concern. He looked truly worried about Carla. “I’ll be fine,” she said, smiling. “Is there anything I can do to help here?” she asked, glancing over at Carla. She didn’t like the girl but if she really was unwell . . .

  “No,” Dominic answered swiftly. “We’ll cope. And she has promised me she’ll return to Dublin in the morning, so please don’t worry about this upsetting tomorrow’s itinerary.”

  “I wasn’t worried about that at all,” she said, honestly. She was surprised he was.

  A loud sniff from the sofa brought their attention back to Carla.

  “You’d better go,” Maura said, looking over at the other woman. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “At ten?” he suggested. She nodded and said goodnight.

  Upstairs in her beautiful room, she suddenly felt a wave of relief sweep over her. What a day. And what a start to her trip. She felt the sudden joy of unexpected solitude. She’d have a room-service meal for dinner, maybe watch an in-house movie or just give her tumbling thoughts a chance to settle. Then tomorrow she’d be ready for anything. Even Carla.

  * * *

  Over breakfast the next morning she glanced again at her Galway schedule. They had four off-licences to visit during the day, then a late afternoon wine-tasting with local traders, hoteliers, wine merchants and local media. ‘And all very influential!’ Rita had handwritten on the notes.

  Maura made her way downstairs to the foyer, to find Dominic waiting for her by the reception desk. There was no sign of Carla.

  “Good morning,” she said, about to enquire after her.

  Dominic greeted her, then saved her the question. “Carla’s safely on her way back to Dublin this morning, I’m pleased to say,” he said, with a slight grin. Maura was slightly taken aback to hear
him say that about his girlfriend, but then again, after last night’s performance, he probably was glad to see the back of her, temporarily at least. “My apologies again – I hope you were okay last night?” he asked.

  She nodded, surprised once again at this softer side of his personality that kept making brief appearances. She had to keep reminding herself of all that Cormac had told her about him.

  “I’ve looked through the itinerary this morning, and we’re close enough to walk to all the appointments today, if you’re happy to do that?”

  She agreed readily. It was crisp, clear winter weather outside and after a day in the car she was ready for a good walk.

  They soon reached the first off-licence, located in the front section of an old pub. Maura was pleased to see Lorikeet Hill wines prominently displayed in the front window, basking in the light from a round yellow lampshade spinning above them. She guessed that was supposed to be an Australian sun.

  They were about to enter when Dominic’s mobile phone rang. He answered it briefly, then asked his caller to hold for a moment.

  He shook his head ruefully. “I’m sorry, again,” he said to Maura. “I won’t be a moment – do you want to go in ahead of me?”

  Maura nodded and walked into the narrow little shop, her eyes squinting in the darkness. A middle-aged man smoking a pipe came out from a little room at the end of the shop.

  “Can I help you, miss?” he asked, coughing slightly.

  Maura introduced herself. “I just wanted to drop in and say hello, and thank you for your great window display. It looks brilliant.”

  The man beamed. “Well, hello there, Maura. I’m Dan O’Shea and aren’t you a pet to say that about the display. Now, will you put in a good word for us with the judges? I fancy myself in a pair of shorts lying on the Gold Coast, can’t you just see it yourself?”

  Maura laughed. Dan looked like he’d be far more comfortable in a snug bar than a sunny beach and, by the twinkle in his eye, he thought the very same thing. “I’ll do my best,” she said with a wink. “That revolving sun might just do the trick. I hope it’s all helping your sales of Australian wine, is it? We’ve a lot of competition with the French and the Spanish, though, haven’t we?”

  Dan leaned down and took a thoughtful suck of his pipe. “Well, now, it’s all about what you like, isn’t it? Some people like French wine. Some people like Spanish wine. There are those that like Italian wine too. And then there are the ones that like Australian wine. And they’re the ones you want.”

  She blinked, trying to keep up. There was no denying his logic. “You’re absolutely right,” she said carefully.

  Dan began an involved explanation of the differences between the wines from each country, and after some moments, Maura began looking nervously at her watch, hoping another customer might come in and give her an opportunity to politely leave. The bell at the door rang and they both looked up as Dominic came into the shop.

  Maura took quick advantage of his arrival to interrupt Dan. “This is Dominic Hanrahan,” she said, “my host from the Wine Society.”

  “And a great society it is too,” Dan said. “It’s good to meet you. Dominic, is it?”

  Dominic nodded, about to say something, when Dan picked up from where he had left off. “Now, the French, their quality can vary widely from one region to the next – myself, I favour the Burgundy reds . . .”

  Dan theorised for more than five minutes, in an almost breathless monologue, not giving them an opportunity to interrupt until he took a long pull on his pipe.

  Dominic seized his chance and interrupted smoothly, as Maura watched with admiration. “I’m sorry to stop you there, Dan, but poor Maura has a very hectic schedule and it’s my head that will roll if she doesn’t make her other visits on time. Will you excuse us, and if we can find time to come back, we’ll do our very best?”

  “Of course, of course,” Dan said, expansively, waving his pipe around until Maura was nervous a plug of tobacco would come sailing out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, and Maura, don’t forget to have a wee word with those judges now, will you?” he said, tapping the end of his nose in a secret code.

  The other three winesellers weren’t quite as voluble, but certainly as friendly. Maura had just arrived at one of the off-licences when a customer came in and bought two bottles of Lorikeet Hill wine.

  “That lady behind you is from that very winery,” the young shop assistant said, pointing at Maura.

  The young man turned around. “Is he serious? This is your wine?”

  Maura nodded. “Well, my brother actually made it. But I picked some of the grapes. A lot of sweat went into that wine, I can tell you!”

  “Not too much, I hope. I was after a full-bodied red, not a watered-down one,” he said with a grin. “Here, would you sign one of them for me?”

  Maura blushed. She’d never been asked to do that before. “Well, if you’re sure, I’d love to,” she said, accepting a pen from the shop assistant. “It’s not like a book, though, is it? One night and it’ll be gone.”

  “Much more fun than a book, though,” the customer grinned.

  Maura thought for a second before writing in careful, small letters across the top of the label, grateful that Fran’s designs always left plenty of white space. ‘I hope you get a taste for it,’ she wrote, before signing her name with a flourish. She handed the bottle back. “I mean it, I hope you really enjoy it.”

  “We will,” he said. He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’m going to ask my girlfriend to marry me tonight – I’m hoping this will help her give the answer I want.”

  “Well, if it doesn’t, you can drown your sorrows with the other bottle,” the shop assistant said drily.

  It was past seven o’clock by the time Maura and Dominic were walking back to the hotel. Night had fallen while they were at their final appointment for the day, and the city was now lit by streetlights and car headlights. The footpaths were packed again, as people going home from work for the evening blended with others just starting their nights out.

  “That’s it for Lorikeet Hill duties for the day, now, is it?” Dominic asked, as they dodged their way through the crowds back to the hotel.

  “That’s it,” she said, sidestepping a trio of giggling teenagers. “I hope it’s working. I’m hearing myself say the same things over and over again. I’ll have to start embellishing them, to keep the interest levels up.”

  He grinned across at her, and she thought again with a jolt how handsome he was. He was in a suit still, but had removed his tie, and the white collar of his shirt was stark against his tanned skin. She suddenly had a mental image of him relaxed, laughing, in less formal clothes than the ones he was wearing today. A pair of faded black denim jeans, she decided. A thick woollen dark green jumper. With wind-ruffled hair.

  A car beeping its horn at a gang of young men walking on the road beside her brought her back to reality. They were in front of their hotel and Dominic was saying something to her.

  “Would you like to eat in the hotel tonight, or try one of the pubs or restaurants in town?” he was asking.

  She suddenly had an urge to set some boundaries between the work trip and their spare time. “You really don’t have to mind me all the time,” she said earnestly. “I’m sure you’ve plenty of things you’d rather be doing, and I’m quite happy to get room service again or go out my own.”

  For a second she thought he looked slightly hurt. She told herself she’d imagined it. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “I’ve promised the Society I would take Bernadette’s place this week, and I’m sure she wouldn’t have left you to your own devices in Galway two nights in a row.”

  Of course, the Society. And his own research. Maybe he wanted to ask her for some tips on how to run a successful restaurant in the country, she thought suddenly.

  He repeated his invitation again. “Would you like to come out with me?” His voice sounded surprisingly polite and sincere and she almost felt
she was being asked out on a date. Oddly enough, the idea appealed to her, until a vision of Carla suddenly came into her mind.

  Dominic was waiting for an answer. Maura suddenly thought back to the lively pubs and cafés they had passed. Oh, what the hell. What could he do? Bite her? Sell her off to a visiting Arab? She could put up with a few more hours of the tension between them, and besides, she was dying to try a pint of Guinness and some more Irish food.

  “I’d like that very much,” she said.

  He smiled.

  Chapter Fifteen

  They arranged to meet in an hour and Maura took the opportunity to shower and change.

  She was in high spirits by the time she came downstairs to meet Dominic in the foyer. Her grin froze when she saw that he too had showered and changed.

  He was wearing a pair of faded black jeans and a thick woollen dark-green jumper. It was as if he had read her mind. She suddenly felt like a child with a paper doll. If she had imagined him dressed in football gear would he suddenly have appeared in that? she wondered. He looked . . . she couldn’t find the word for it. Strong. And very approachable. She gave him a big smile.

  He seemed to be noticing her appearance too. She had dressed in a close-fitting dark-green top and a long, richly patterned skirt. She’d left her hair down and it fell in a mass of dark red curls around her shoulders and down her back.

  He stopped looking first. “Would you like restaurant or pub food?” he asked.

  “Oh, definitely a pub. Do you know I haven’t had a pint of Guinness yet. Or heard any real Irish music. I’ll have to complain to the Irish Tourist Board for false advertising,” she said lightly, conscious that the relaxed mood between them had returned.

  “Well, you’re in the right town for pubs and music now,” he said, smiling down at her. “We’ll wander along until you find something that takes your fancy.”

  Maura was glad to find they were gathered up in the streams of people strolling down Shop Street. She felt a rush of excitement at the buzz of people around them. It seemed that even on a weeknight, the streets of Galway had an air of excitement, as people called out to friends, or wandered in and out of pubs and restaurants.