by Fox Brison
“One hundred percent,” I assured ardently.
“Oh thanks be to God!” she blew out a huge lungful of air. “My sister, Isabella, decided to have a new extension built at exactly the same time as this project started, so she is also back at home with her family. I’m convinced she did it on purpose just to piss me off. Now don’t get me wrong I love my nieces, but I wasn’t looking forward to sharing a room with them. They aren’t the quietist.” She grinned.
“That settles it.. I need you on the ball if we’re to complete this project on schedule, Ms Callery, not sluggish and distracted due to lack of sleep. Besides it’ll be nice to have some company.”
“Well if you insist, Ms McAteer,” Elisha said before adding quite earnestly, “Brianna, I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am you took the position.”
“Gosh, you really are glad you don’t have to share with your nieces, aren’t you,” I joked.
Besides it wasn’t like I’d never shared a house with a lesbian - I lived with Sam before moving in with Leo.
Same difference, right?
So why did my stomach feel like I was waiting in line for the world’s largest loop the loop.
Chapter 10
Elisha
Brianna gave the kind of jaw cracking yawn a velociraptor would have been proud of. “Tired?” I asked.
Covering her mouth she yawned again. “Sorry, it’s been an exciting day.”
“It surely has. Look, I’ve to head up to Biddy and Pat’s. Why don’t you relax and I’ll sort out a bite to eat when I get back, after which we can have an early night.”
“Sounds like a plan. I wouldn’t mind a soak.”
“There are towels in the blanket box at the end of your bed, and the usual accoutrements are on the side. If you can’t find what you’re looking for have a poke about in my drawers.” It wasn’t until I was in the car on my way up the hill that I thought about what I’d said and laughed.
Poke about in my drawers! I hope she doesn’t think that was a cheesy come on, my game is much sharper than that!
***
“Well?” I sat down with my mug of tea. It was almost black and I didn’t like to speculate about how long it had been stewing in the pot.
“Well.” Pat tapped his pipe against the ashtray and stuffed more tobacco into the end. “It’s a virus.”
“A virus?” That doesn’t sound good.
“It’s Biddy worrying over nothing,” he insisted.
“Doctor Nolan told you to rest up for a few weeks,” Biddy argued from the kitchen. “That’s not nothing Patrick Fergus Callery.”
“Strong as an ox,” Pat muttered really, really quietly. I chuckled. Bridget Callery didn’t take prisoners with her brusque manner and no nonsense approach, but she loved her husband dearly and he knew it. They had the stoic practicality of age, and Biddy in particular was extremely phlegmatic about illness. “You know what doctors are like these days, Leesh. He’s covering himself in case I go chasing ambulances. Feet up! I’m a farmer not a feckin’ politician.”
“Chase ambu… oh you mean sue him.” I eventually cottoned on to what he was getting at, whilst at the same time trying to head him off at the pass and distract him from his weekly rant at all things Dáil related.
“That’s the one,” he nodded vehemently.
I chuckled as an image of Pat chasing after an ambulance, stopping every five minutes for a puff on his pipe, popped into my head. “Looka, the doctor prescribed rest, and if you don’t do as you’re told I have a suspicion Biddy will tie you down. Give me a list of what needs doing and I’ll see to it.”
“Elisha, I’ll go doolalley if I-“
“And Biddy will go mad if you don’t!”
“You drive a hard bargain.” He scowled but a smile lurked in his eyes. Despite Pat being eighty-four and Biddy pushing seventy-five their mortality was never an issue, except when something like this happened. Losing them scared the bejeezus out of me and I would wrap them both in cotton wool if that’s what it took to keep them fit and healthy.
“Now here.” Biddy handed me a cool bag.
“What’s this?” I asked. However, from the smell emanating from its depths, I didn’t have to be a psychic to guess what it was.
“I plated up a couple of dinners for you and Brianna. If I leave it up to you she’ll waste away and there’s not a pick on her to begin with.”
“Biddy, you’re a saint.” I gratefully kissed her cheek and left them in peace.
Brianna was stretched out on the sofa with the wood burner blazing and a few scented candles burning when I got back. I was pleased she had already made herself at home, because that boded well for the future. I couldn’t bear spending the next few months walking on eggshells, or even worse having to entertain her. She lowered her book, and her eyes focussed on the cool bag she asked, “What do you have there?”
“Dinner courtesy of Bridget,” I explained. “Which is just as well otherwise we would be eating ham and cheese sandwiches again.” I beamed. Cooking was not my forte. “Good book?”
“I’m not sure yet. I found it on your shelf, I hope you don’t mind?”
If it was one of mine it was probably lesbian in genre, and possibly erotic in nature, but I couldn’t exactly say yes I do mind and rip it out of her hands… could I? “Of course not,” I replied breezily. “I’m going to stick the plates in the oven for half an hour and make a jug of gravy.” I quickly did as Biddy instructed, not because I was hungry, oh no, it was because the sooner we ate, the sooner I could drag Brianna away from my book so I could hide it!
Sat in front of the fire replete, each with a cold bottle of beer (mine in my hand hers in a glass) Brianna and I listened to the wind making mischief outside.
“That was delicious and incredibly thoughtful of Biddy,” she said with a satisfied sigh.
“She knows I can’t cook! We’d be surviving on sausages and cheese sandwiches if it was left up to me.”
“Two of my favourites.” She smiled and then noted, “You and Biddy seem close?”
“I’ve been a bane on herself and Pat’s existence since I was eight years old,” I said and only half in jest!
“I don’t believe that for a second, Biddy clearly adores you. Your chicken not so much!” she snickered.
“Red and I have much in common; we’ve both been chased by a Doran!”
“Really?” Brianna’s eyes widened in shock.
“Really. Pat hunted me off his land many a time. He and my father have never got on. There’s a river of bad blood between our two farms, and it harks way back to before I was even born. I’m the only one who has dared cross it. Pat slowly warmed to me, so I kinda bounced back and forth even though my Dad tried to stop me. I was a kid, what did I know about grown-ups and their feuds?”
“They don’t have children of their own?”
“No, and it’s a shame because they had so much love to give, but I guess I was the one who ultimately benefitted. Pat taught me all about traditional farming methods. I think that’s what drew me to him in the first place. I loved learning about the past and his family tended the land pretty much the same way forever. It gives you a sense of…of,” I wrinkled my brow, searching for an appropriate word. “Permanence?” I mooted it as a question and Brianna bobbed her head in understanding. “Basically if it could be done to a sheep, Pat taught me how to do it!”
My smile gradually slipped. “He was devastated when I moved to Dublin for college and then decided to stay. He wouldn’t talk to me for a month, but eventually accepted that I had to get away.” I glanced at the clock and started at the realisation that I’d been talking about myself for the past ten minutes! The only people I usually trusted as confidantes were my cousin Shannon and her wife Kate; apart from them I’d never opened up to anyone like this, or as fast. Feeling a tad vulnerable, and unused to the magnitude of sharing, I performed an abrupt U-turn. “So tell me, what do you have planned for the next few days?”
Bria
nna smiled knowingly, almost like she could see my thought process. “It’s a tight schedule,” she began, “so I’d like to hit the ground running. The first thing on the agenda is to meet with the main contractor.”
“Dominic O’Connell’s yer man in charge of construction. I can find out if he’s free tomorrow.” I fired off a quick text. “I spoke to him a couple of days ago and he explained he won’t be able to do anything until the ground dries out. Once that happens, the first job is to sort out the drainage.”
“Good plan,” she acknowledged.
My phone beeped; it was Dominic’s confirmation text. “He can be here tomorrow about elevenish.”
“Perfect. I’ll head down to the site as soon as it gets light. There are a few things I want to check before I speak to him to iron out the fine details.”
“It doesn’t get light much before eight, so there’s no use rising too early and killing yourself on the first day. You have till July to do that!” I teased.
“In that case I will say goodnight, but before I do I’d like to reiterate how much I’m looking forward to this job and working with you, Elisha.”
“I have a feeling we both lucked out on this one,” I said sincerely. “Night, Bri, sleep well.”
Brianna headed off to her room and I stacked the stove before doing the same.
If the rest of our time together was as equable as the first day, this may very well be a match made in heaven!
Chapter 11
Elisha
The following morning Brianna breezed into the kitchen wearing nothing but a Tweetie Pie nightdress which crept up her slender thigh. It was a chilly morning, and probably used to gas central heating she was clearly feeling the cold, and I mean clearly – I was lucky I didn’t lose an eye! “Go and get yourself sat in front of the fire,” I shooed her back towards the front room, “and I’ll bring your coffee through.”
“You’re an angel.”
“How do you take it?” I called before she disappeared.
“Milk and no sugar,” she specified.
First thing I do is buy her a dressing gown and a pair of slippers! I thought as I watched her tiptoe hurriedly across the cold tiled floor, her arms wrapped around her waist.
Coffee made, we sat either side of the fire, each quietly sipping away contemplating the day ahead. “Mmm,” Brianna groaned, “I feel human again.”
I smiled in agreement. “Yep that first coffee is essential. I’m suspicious of anyone who doesn’t need a caffeine fix to kick start their brain. Oh, I have something for you.” I headed back into the kitchen and returned with an egg. “Here, Red laid you a welcome present.”
Brianna reached out and cradled it gently– and then nearly scrambled the thing when it almost rolled out of her palm. “It’s warm,” she breathed in awe. “I’ve never felt a warm egg before, well not one that wasn’t cooked. This is. I mean it’s only an egg but.” She shrugged shyly and my heart throbbed with joy. It was good Brianna appreciated the simple things in life because if there was one thing we did well in Gloshtrasna, it was simple.
However, as she placed the egg back and our fingers lightly brushed, the tremble I felt travelling through the tips and circumnavigating my entire body revealed that uncomplicated and Brianna McAteer were not going to be used often in the same sentence.
At least not where I was concerned.
***
An hour later we were pulling on our coats, ready to leave the house and meet Dominic. Brianna was dressed appropriately for the conditions, thick navy jumper (and even thicker socks) and a pair of matching blue wellington boots. She looked every bit as good in her work gear as she did yesterday at the airport, if not better.
“The access isn’t terrible,” she muttered to herself before musing, “the bridge over the stream might require reinforcing. I’ll climb down tomorrow and examine it more closely.”
“I wondered,” I scowled. More time. More money. “There’ll be heavier traffic than the odd Massey Ferguson crossing it?”
“Definitely,” she agreed. “And I’m not convinced those concrete foundations will be fit for purpose. Have you any idea what they were used for?”
“Before my mother left she had a figary about running a caravan site, but that’s all it was because they’re as far as she got.”
“Your parents are divorced?” Brianna pushed a stray lock of her wavy hair behind her ear and looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry, Elisha, that was an incredibly personal question.”
“I wouldn’t have mentioned her if it bothered me,” I said negligently. I rarely shared my thoughts, especially not my deeper emotions - those I kept locked up tight. It was a complaint made by many an ex. Unfortunately, I had an unerring type when it came to women, dating obsessive individuals who weren’t happy unless they knew precisely what was going on in my head every. Single. Minute. However, my ma leaving was old news, and certainly not upsetting.
Still… there was something about Brianna which suggested that eventually I wouldn’t mind her knowing me intimately. I mean my intimate thoughts. Jeez.
“How old were you when she left?”
“Twelve. She went out for a pint of milk one day and never came back.”
“Christ almighty that must have been a nightmare for you all.” Brianna gripped my forearm again. She was either extremely tactile or had inner ear issues which affected her balance.
“It might have been, but luckily we had a couple of cans of the powdered stuff in the cupboard.” I smiled and winked. “Seriously, Bri, it was twenty years ago and if I’m truthful it probably hit my little sister Isabella the hardest. Da wasn’t fussed. I never saw them being affectionate with one another, but I witnessed ample contempt. So the concrete, could we break it up for hard-core?”
Brianna took the hint and agreed. “Great minds.”
We walked the entire site twice, and Brianna certainly knew her stuff. I have to confess I was worried when I first saw her, and yes I’ll admit it was incredibly chauvinistic, looking at a femme woman and assuming she wouldn’t recognise one end of a torque wrench from another, but… okay there are no excuses. I’m ashamed. I judged a book by its cover, but boy, I’ve never been so glad I was wrong. I should have known with the amount of money being invested by Heavenly Homes in this venture, they wouldn’t hire a project manager without substance.
And Brianna McAteer (first, second, and third impressions counting for everything) had a rich seam of substance running though her veins.
“Hmmm, the bridge may be a problem, but your foreman is right, the drainage definitely needs to be addressed first. Heavy machinery and soft earth is a disaster waiting to happen.” She pushed an implement she had brought from the site office into the ground, making a note of the measurement. “It works out perfectly because it’ll give me the chance to organise everything else we need before we break ground. I’ll be back in a minute; I want to take a couple more measurements before we leave.” Brianna headed over to the far side of the site, and as she did so I heard the growl of a diesel transit. Turning around I saw Dominic parking on the other side of the bridge.
“Howya,” I called, when he stepped out of his van. I’d recommended him to Dylan because we were at school together and I knew he was reliable and hardworking, if a little dour.
“Good, Leesh. How’s ya Da?”
“Ah, sure, still pulling the devil by the tail.”
“I’ll call in before I leave. Is he allowed a sup?” He grinned.
“Just try and stop him. He’d rather die than give up his Jamesons.” I wasn’t joking.
“He’s great craic, so he is.” Dom laughed “I checked out the forecast and it’s looking good for next week, so I thought we’d get going with the drainage pipes sooner rather than later.”
“You’ll have to speak to Brianna about that,” I stopped talking when I noticed him tilt his head and narrow his eyes. I couldn’t blame him for staring, because she would snare most people’s attention. We stood quietly e
ntranced and watched her tiptoe through a swathe of nettles, then leap frog a couple of puddles, before wind milling and slipping on some-
“Shit,” Dom whispered.
“You’re not kidding!”
We both flew over to where she fell, and found her sitting amongst the rushes, her brand new wellies filling with water. “Brianna, are you okay?” I held out a hand to help her up and Dominic did the same.
“Apart from being covered in crap and a bruised ego, I’m fine,” she joked, but was clearly embarrassed.
“I’m Dominic O’Connell, the contractor for the project, Miss McAteer.” If Brianna was embarrassed before, she was currently rating nine point four on the mortified scale.
“Excuse me if I don’t shake your hand, Mr O’Connell.”
“Ah, sure, if I had a penny for every time I’d gone arse over tit on this land I could retire tomorrow.” Dom was a polite prince charming, rather than the sour puss I was used to. I found it highly disconcerting.
“If you had a penny for every time you went arse over tit coming out of the Fiddler’s you needn’t have started working at all!” My derision didn’t go down to well with Dom, but I’d never seen him this enamoured with anyone, and inexplicably felt ultra protective of Brianna. He had a reputation as a self-proclaimed ladies’ man and I didn’t want her to fall for his silver tongue.
I won’t divulge whose silvery tongue I wanted her to-
“Can I walk you back to the cottage, Miss McAteer?” he asked.
What now? Daydream for a second and miss half the conversation. “It’s Ms,” I interrupted. They both considered me, Brianna with a half-smile and tiny cock of her head in question, Dom with irritation.
“There are no titles on this site,” Brianna let me off the hook. “If I call you Dominic, would you call me Brianna?” She offered him a genial smile.
Oh my God, now she’s at it. I’m building a summer camp for kids, not a matchmaking retreat! I mentally scoffed.
Dom nodded. “Of course, Brianna.” He practically purred her name.
