“Wow, that is a monster of a machine Carol.” It’s the sort you would only find in a swanky café.
“It does make the best coffee you’ll ever taste.”
After she finishes frothing the milk, she brings the cup over to me. I take a sip. “Holy shit, this is the best coffee I’ve ever had.” It’s creamy and robust, just the way I like it. I need one of those machines.
“I knew you’d like it. We were just discussing what we should do today. We decided on going out to lunch at Turk’s Head and Temple Bar; is that okay with you?” Carol asks as she takes a sip of coffee.
“Yep, all I want is a big bowl of stew and a pint of Guinness on the side,” I say, and then I take another sip of my coffee.
“Oh, that does sound good, love,” George agrees.
Ready to get the day started, I go back upstairs taking my coffee with me, where I get changed into my skinny blue jeans and a cream-colored anorak. Considering we're in Ireland, I wantto keep as warm as possible and fit in all at the same time.
As we drive through the countryside, Carol turns in her seat to face me. “There are a lot of good-looking young boys in this town, and since it’s the weekend, they’ll be out at the pub. Keep a good eye out for the really cute ones.” She winks.
“Don’t you worry about me, Carol, I don’t want a relationship, but I wouldn’t mind some unattached fun.” I laugh. I don’t plan on becoming a whore or anything like that, just someone to keep me occupied, so I don’t wallow in self-pity.
“Good girl.” She nods.
“Couldn’t the pair of you have this conversation once we leave the car? There are just some things a father doesn’t need to hear?” My dad gripes.
“Fair call, Dad.” I snicker.
Once we arrive at the pub, Carol and I go to find seats while the boys get our drinks. We find a booth to sit in that's closest to the stage, where there’s a band setting up their equipment. I become excited when I see one of the members take a banjo out of its case. I could sit and listen to someone play the banjo for hours. When I was growing up, dad always had his Irish music playing, it became a comfort to me when I didn’t want to listen to my psychopath mother who was forever yelling through the house, and I’d put my headphones in and flick on my iPod.
A few minutes later, the boys come over carrying pots of Guinness. Dad places one down in front of me. “Thanks.”
“No worries.” He smiles and slips into the booth.
“So, have the pair of you made any plans to sightsee while you’re here?” George asks as he lifts the pint to his lips.
“Not yet. We will get out and see a few things, but we haven’t made any solid plans yet,” Dad explains.
“If it’s okay with you two, I was thinking we could all go and see the Giant’s Causeway,” George suggests.
In my head, I jump for joy. I know I’ve seen the causeway before, but I was six at the time, so I don’t remember much of the experience, but dad assures me it’s something I’d be interested in. “That would be great,” I say a little more eager than I would have liked. “But isn’t it like a two-day drive from here?” I ask, worried about my father having to travel that far, especially since we've just come off another long plane ride.
George leans forward. “We wouldn’t be driving there, pet. I’ll be sure to make plans to have the jet-fuelled and ready to go." He shrugs as if everyone in the world has a private jet in their backyard.
I almost spat out my Guinness, but I did have to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Umm, did you just say that you have a fucking jet?” ‘No fucking way, aren’t they like millions of dollars?’ I ask myself.
He smiles at me. “Yes, my dear. I said jet.” He looks at me as if it’s normal as if everyone has one. “What do you think, Cass? I know you haven’t been here since you were six, but I guess you don’t remember much from that trip. Would you like to see the Causeway again?”
“Hell yes, I’d love that.”
The three of them laugh at me, but I don’t say a word because I still have the freaking word ‘jet’ rolling around in my irrational brain.
The drinks go down a treat, and after a while, Carol and I get up and dance. Something I wouldn’t do sober, but drunk, I own the damn dance floor.
At closing time, we go on the good old hunt for kebabs. Cliché or not, there’s nothing better than a kebab after a night on the booze.
When we get back to the house, not one of us is ready to hit the sack, so I introduce them all to Grand Theft Auto on the PlayStation, a PlayStation I found still in its box in the cinema room. Yes, I said cinema room, and the room is as big as my mother’s house.
It isn’t long until George and my dad are glued to the screen, and there’s no chance of prying the controllers out of their hands. “I can’t believe I’ve had this sitting in my house this whole time and I haven’t played it,” George says, shocked.
“At least, you know it’s here now.” I hop up and stretch my legs and arms. “I need a sugar fix. Do any of you want me to bring something back to snack on?” I ask the room.
“Nope,” they answer in unison.
I walk into the kitchen and rummage through the cupboards. “Jackpot!” I yell. I found a huge container of M&M’s so I take the bowl out of the cupboard, grab a Coke out of the fridge, and make my way back into the cinema room.
“I see you’re set for the night.” George laughs.
“I’d eat these in a bowl with milk for all of my meals, but I’ve been told it’s not good for you.” I point my chin toward my dad and throw him a look of disdain while the others laugh.
The boys play GTA until the sun comes up, and for the first time in a long time, I’m genuinely happy. Seeing my dad smile, laugh, and act like a teenager, makes my day.
Not one of us wakes until late in the afternoon. When I’m showered and changed, I skip through the house, and eventually, I find the old farts slumped over their coffees while sitting at the kitchen table. They’re all looking a little worse for wear. “Good morning!” I yell.
"Shh," is all they can manage.
“Are we all suffering from a little thing called a hangover?” I ask.
“Yes, we are, and your young body coping with last night’s drinking is pissing me off.” My dad smiles his best sarcastic, smart-ass smile towards me. Poor bugger.
“I can’t help the fact that I'm still young and vibrant.” I wave my hands across my body.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, okay? You’ll be our age soon enough.” He rests his head back down on the cold surface of the table and closes his eyes.
“I’m sure I will, Dad, one day, but today is not that day.” I then skip to the other side of the counter and grab a frying pan out of the cupboard. “Okay, you lot, would you like me to cook you up a sure-fire way to help with that hangover?” I look at them as I place the pan on the stove.
“Do your worst, love,” George mumbles.
I walk through to the butler’s kitchen looking for ingredients when I find the family’s private chef, Eric, standing at the sink peeling potatoes. “Cassie, can I cook something for you? Are you hungry?” he asks.
I had met Eric only briefly yesterday and explained to him that I like to cook and that I'd been given free rein in the kitchens. Chef Eric, has a Colin Farrell feel to him, and the accent, oh, that accent makes me want to grind my naked body up against his, but I won’t.
I catch my breath and try to get the image of him naked, out of my head before pressing on. “Nope, what I’d like you to do, is take a smoke break.”
His forehead wrinkled with confusion. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. Go out and put your feet up for ten. I want to be the one to cook breakfast.” But I catch myself and look at the clock. It's two PM. “Or lunch, or...” I have to think for a moment about what comes between lunch and dinner. “We have brunch, so should this time of day be called linner? Dinluc?” I ask with my face crinkled in thought. “What if w
e use supper, how about, lupper?” My brain is severely strained from thought, but I’m pulled from my dilemma when I hear Eric begin to chuckle. “What is so funny?”
He shakes his head, his arms fold across his chest, but his chest is still jumping up and down with his laughter. “It's going to be a fun few months around here with you staying,” he says as he continues to laugh.
My god, his laugh is adorable. I know dad and Carol told me I should have fun while I'm single, but there’s no way in hell I’d sleep with someone who works for my family, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t fantasize.
I’ve only been at George and Carol’s house/mansion for a couple of days, but I already know that my family has a fantastic relationship with every one of their staff. I won’t be the one to ruin that. After Eric’s left to have a cigarette, I make my way over to the fridge and open the doors. In there I find bacon, eggs, sausages, and hash browns.
While everything cooks, I find some champagne glasses, fill them with three-quarters champagne and the rest orange juice and I take a sip. “Fuck, that’s good,” I mumble to myself. As I finish plating up, Eric walks back in from his smoke break. “Would you like some help with that?” he asks.
I look down at the trays and nod. “Yes, please.”
As we place the food under my family's noses, the looks on their faces are priceless. It’s as if I’d served them up a plate full of poison. I laugh for a moment and try to reassure them. “Trust me, this will soak up whatever’s left in your stomach.”
Carol looks up at me questioningly. “Then why the mimosas?”
“The hair of the dog.” I shrug. “Now eat up,” I order each of them with a pointed finger.
After breakfast, I see a vast improvement in everyone’s moods, and we decided it would be best if we just lounge around and relax for the rest of the day since we’re in for a long day tomorrow when we go to visit the Giant’s Causeway.
By nine PM, I can see that my dad is tired.
“Dad, we have a huge day tomorrow. I think you should get some rest.”
He shakes his head. “Who’s the parent here?” He chuckles. “But I believe you're right.” He stands and kisses me on the forehead. “Goodnight.”
“Night, Dad.” I watch as he slowly takes the stairs one at a time, and it breaks my heart. I can tell he’s in pain just by watching his movements.
As he disappears around the corner, and out of sight, I turn to George and Carol. “He shouldn’t be this sick yet,” I deadpan.
George gives me a knowing look. “Cancer is a funny thing, wee girl. It affects people differently. If he feels the same tomorrow, I’ll arrange to have a doctor come by and see him,” he says as he reaches out to pat my hand.
I place my free hand on top of his. “Thank you. I think I’d feel better knowing that a doctor gave him a once-over. I don’t know if he’ll agree to it, but we can try.”
He nods, George knows what a stubborn man my father can be, at times. “No problem. If he’s feeling better in the morning, we can still go to the Causeway, but I can promise you that I will have a doctor here the morning after that. I don’t want him living with any regrets.”
My dad always talks about how amazing the Causeway is, I just thought that he loves it because it is a part of his home country. I didn’t think of it as being a part of him. “That sounds perfect. I’m going to go and try to get some sleep, so I’m not too tired tomorrow.” I kiss George and Carol goodnight and head up to my bedroom.
The next morning, we wake bright and early. When I see that dad is looking a lot better than he had been the night before, I give George the okay and we shuffle around the house getting ready for our trip.
The closer we get to the jet, the more excited I become. But when we arrive at the airstrip, I pause for a moment at the bottom of the stairs and take it all in. The thing is enormous from the outside, and I love the fact that we can bypass any queues we’d have to stand in if we were flying on a commercial plane. It would take forever just to get through check-in.
When I've made my way up the steps and I'm inside, I pause to take a look around and when I do, I swear my eyes are deceiving me.
The recliners aren’t just recliners, they fold out into beds, but then I look over to the far side, I see a giant plasma television resting on the wall. “Hey, George,” I call out.
“Yes, love.” He drops his bag down next to one of the seats and turns to face me.
“You need to get yourself a new jet, because this one, is now mine.” I drop my bag and wave my arms around like an idiot.
“Okay,” he says just to keep me happy.
The flight was only two hours long, but damn, do I wish it had been longer because I sat back, got comfortable, and read a book. The stewardesses were at my beck and call, and I knew it was something I could get used to.
Once we'd landed, the others weren’t sure if they’d be able to pry me out of my seat. Eventually, they did manage to pull me from the jet, but only because they'd promised me I’d be back in it, in comfort, just a few hours from now.
We’re met by a limo that's waiting for us on the landing strip.
The Causeway is only a fifteen-minute drive from the jet, and I find myself staring through the rear window pining to be back in the comfort of the jet.
“It’s not going anywhere, Cass.” George laughs.
I let out a long sigh. “I know, but I think I’m in love. It’s never a good idea to try and pry young lovers apart, they’ll always find ways to see each other behind their parent's backs,” I coo dreamily.
“She’s got it bad, George.” Dad laughs. “Keep a good eye on it; she may just try to steal it along with the Maserati.” Now the rest of the car, including the driver, is laughing at me.
Once we arrive at our destination, I hop out of the car, and I automatically hug myself. The wind is icy cold, but the scenery is breathtaking. I take my father’s hand in mine, and we walk up to the Causeway. “It’s so beautiful here, Dad,” I tell him over the gusts of wind.
He squeezes my hand in return. “It sure is, love.” He’s facing the giant bricks, and I can see that his eyes are glassy. This is home to him, and I can’t help but smile. I’m so glad we came out here. I’m so glad he got to see this place one last time.
“I used to come here with your Uncle Will when we were boys. Whenever your Nan would be in one of her deep depressions, here is where we’d escape too. I’d run around until I was exhausted and we'd head back home and climb in through one of the windows. I couldn’t handle her moods. She only got like that when she skipped her MEDs. At one point, your granddad would sprinkle the capsule of anti-depressants in her food so we didn’t have to listen to her sobs.” I watch him as he tells me his story and I want to cry. In the time I’d spent with Nan, I never saw anything of the sort from her. But dad assured me that was only because she had granddad set the alarm on her watch so she didn’t miss taking them.
I reach down and run my hand along the jagged rocks. It’s slippery, in parts, and I'm grateful I decided to wear my trainers, or I’d have been ass up more than once.
After two hours of roaming around the cold but beautiful grounds, Dad asks if we can find a seat as he’s getting tired, so we find a café/gift shop back up towards the entrance to the Causeway.
While the others take a seat and enjoy their coffees, I get a to-go cup and head over to the gift shop to buy some trinkets for Courtney and Zoe.
As soon as Dad’s feeling up to it, we climb back into the limo and stop at a restaurant not too far away.
The Dinner was excellent, but it was time to head back to Dublin. I slept on the jet for an hour, then read for the rest of the flight.
The moment we're back at the house, Dad excuses himself and heads up to bed. Not long after, I also excuse myself so I can go up to my bedroom and call Courtney.
“Hey, Court. I just wanted to let you know that we arrived in Ireland safe and sound.”
“You could have called me two da
ys ago. I have a copy of your itinerary, remember? I’ve tried calling you like a bazillion times.”
“Sorry, the phones been off, and I’ve been concentrating on Dad.”
“How is he?”
“He’s tired but good. We caught the jet-”
Courtney cuts me off, “Wait! What jet?”
“Well, my dear, it turns out our Irish cousins have more money than God.”
“Shit, you must be having a fantastic time over there.”
“The best part about the jet was the open bar and plasma television.” I can’t help but brag. I love rubbing shit in her face; she’s so cute when she’s angry. Her face scrunches up, and all you want to do is pinch her cheeks. Something she hates, just FYI.
“I want to jump on a plane, like, right now.”
“I can arrange for you to come over in a month or so if you’d like? I want you to see Dad before he gets too sick. I know that’s not how you would want to remember him.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
“Anyway, how’s everyone back there?”
“Why don’t you ask me how Mitchell is coping? I know you must be dying of curiosity by now.”
“I haven’t really thought about him until now.”
“Yeah, right. Hamish called me because you weren’t answering your phone. Apparently, Mitchell only went back to work yesterday. He took some personal time off. But he sure as hell isn’t telling anyone what he’s thinking. No shit, he’s banned everyone from saying your name when he's around.”
“Fucking hell. If that dick-wad had paid this much attention to me when we were together, I might not have broken up with him.”
“That’s what Haim said, too.”
"Can you tell Haim I’ll call him tomorrow? Right now, I need to get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“Okay, Cass. Take care, and I love you.”
“I love you, too. Bye.”
“Bye.” I hang up the phone.
Immediately, I change into my PJ’s and hop into bed. But even exhaustion isn’t enough on its own to make me sleep, so I lay there staring at the ceiling.
The Beginning Page 11
