Page 17 of The Women at Ocean's End

‘You came over with the students?’ He shook his head. ‘So, that’s how you managed to end up here. Have you finished your postgraduate work?’

‘No, not yet. I thought I might go back, but it didn’t work out that way.’ There was no point going into the fact that she couldn’t afford to do a college course when she had bills to pay and she was completely on her own in the world.

‘So you just tagged along with some mates after they were talking about it in the pub?’ He looked at her now as if he only half believed what she was telling him.

‘I wanted adventure and I found it here in spades.’ She bit her lip; she’d have to do much better than that if she went for an interview. She’d have to talk about her degree and find some reason to gloss over the fact that she’d spent the largest part of her life since graduation working in a bar. Somehow, she’d have to hide that the only real experience she’d ever had working in a job related to her degree before she arrived on Pin Hill. She knew, if the Parks and Wildlife interview committee realised how things had gone south with Wild Bird Ireland, she wouldn’t have a prayer in securing this, her dream job.

‘You found adventure on Pin Hill Island?’ He was watching her now, as if reassessing what he saw. But it was the truth. She’d had the time of her life here, in the little cottage, making connections, and the place had quickly felt like home. Now, people like Constance cared about whether she turned up in the day and that was something Ros hadn’t had in Dublin or anywhere else, not for quite some time.

Within half an hour, Ros had settled George for her absence and they were making progress quickly across the marshy fields and towards some of the many streams that flowed clear and fast towards the sea at the south-facing side of the island. Shane chatted easily on the way, telling her about his consultancybusiness, which sounded as if it wasn’t very busy, and his real passion, surfing and the sea.

‘Come on, we’re nearly at our first location,’ she said. For the next few hours, they worked hard to gather up as many samples as they could. She enjoyed pointing out places of interest around the island, places like Blackrock Island in the distance and the old castle ruins that had once belonged to Grace O’Malley, Ireland’s most notorious pirate and, according to legend, the only woman known to have gotten the better of the first Queen Elizabeth.

‘God, it feels as if we’ve been walking for a week, but I could keep on going,’ Shane said as they turned onto the road that would bring them back to the cottage.

‘It’s like that here. The one thing that you need for this job is comfortable walking shoes…’ Ros said lightly, but she’d learned the hard way with blisters and wet feet at the start.

‘Well, in fairness you need a bit more than that now.’ He had been eager to correct her earlier when she had pointed out some hedgerow plants with their Latin name.Real rangers call them by their proper names; Latin is only for your final exams.She tried to brush it off, but it stung, this way of letting her know that actually you needed more than a degree to do a ranger’s job. His point was, she needed experience. She needed to be a person who belonged in the country, not one who grew up in a flat in the city.

They walked back to the cottage via the cliff trail. It was as stunning as on any day she’d walked it and she hoped that maybe they might catch a glimpse of basking sharks in the water. Ros thought that surely, if that went into a report, it would have to be another string to the bow of the island. They stood for a while, looking out to sea. The water was calm today. Shane had been lucky in travelling across; some days it was ferocious, reminding Ros of a wild beast, angry, roaring and hungry. Thesound of the crows making their way back across the island to their nests after the day reminded them it was time to make a move for home.

‘It’s getting late. We should probably get an early night and set off first thing for Pin Hill?’ He sounded eager to get going, whereas Ros could have stood there for another hour, drinking in the beauty of the place.

‘Sure, I’ve got a lasagne in the fridge. We can heat it up and turn in for the night.’ It was shop-bought, but it would do. Suddenly, no matter how long it had been since she’d actually spent time with an attractive man, she found herself wanting to get away from him for a few hours alone.

Ros realised she wasn’t going to get her wish for that any time soon when they turned into the back yard of her cottage to be met with a parked and idling huge four-by-four jeep. Jonah Ashe was nowhere to be seen, but then, just as she pushed through her back door, he emerged from one of the tiny sheds that bordered one side of the property.

‘You have bats,’ he said as if she didn’t already know it.

‘Yes.’

‘Don’t they bother you?’ He walked towards them, stopping for a moment to nod at Shane.

‘No, not particularly. I mean, they’re protected, we’re lucky to have them here. No-one disturbs them – so long as you leave them be, they’re happy to nest and I’m happy to have them,’ she said, eyeing the door he’d pulled out tightly behind him. She marched across to open it slightly once more so the bats could emerge when the day had drifted into darkness.

‘Pah! Protected. I never heard such madness. Bats are well able to survive in nature, how do you think they made it through for the last fifty million years?’

‘Well, be that as it may, Ros is right,’ Shane said. ‘They are protected and anyone interfering with their nests would findthemselves in trouble with the law if it came to our attention,’ he added a little primly. It seemed whether Ros invited them both or not, they were following her into the cottage, when really, all she wanted was a bit of peace and quiet. Shane was hanging up his coat, now he turned, extended his hand to Jonah and introduced himself, making sure to mention his reason for being on the island.

‘Good God, more of our land being taken over for swamp and bog,’ Jonah muttered. ‘I hope it won’t interfere with my application for a wind farm?’

‘I can’t comment on that, but there are plenty of examples where the two aren’t mutually exclusive, it really depends on where you want to situate the masts,’ Shane said. ‘It’ll be down to compatibility with the site and, of course, your neighbours might have some say in things too.’

‘What can I do for you, Jonah?’ Ros stood between them. This was one conversation she didn’t want to have to tell her boss had happened in her porch while her rescue goat lay half asleep in his bed at their feet.

‘Oh, yeah, it’s what I can do for you. I have the vet coming across tomorrow. I know it’s probably not… well, I mean, let’s face it, whatever chance the poor bugger has… but if you wanted, I could send him your way when he’s finished at my place.’ He didn’t sound as if he particularly wanted to send anything her way, but it was how the island worked, you didn’t waste a resource as precious as the vet if he was making his way across. ‘Of course, it’ll cost you, you do know that?’

‘I think I can afford it,’ Ros said, ‘but don’t worry, he was coming here anyway, I called him the other day, so…’ She didn’t add that she’d have paid all her wages to sort out George if she had to. She bent down to him now, placed a hand on his snout, assuming that like dogs it was some indicator of good or badhealth. Did she really need to check? He looked even worse than when she left him this morning.

God, poor George. His crate needed to be cleaned, his water changed, it had been a long day for him on his own. At least he hadn’t tried to stand on that leg, chance would be a fine thing, he could hardly lift his head tonight, much less his leg.

‘Did you expect him to be up and running already?’ Shane had followed her to the porch and he leaned against the door jamb now, watching her. He wasn’t an animal person especially, he’d told Ros when he’d spotted the goat earlier, but she thought you’d have to be made of marble not to fall for George.

‘Of course not, but it’s been a long day for him and he’s going to need to have his bedding changed and…’ She was lucky, Max Toolis must have bought the Sunday paper every week he lived here and he rarely recycled the old copies, so there were stacks of free bedding in one of the sheds outside. She began to fold in a layer around George now, hoping it would support his injury as well as keep him cosy.

‘That doesn’t look good.’ Jonah stated the obvious. He had bent down next to her and was holding George while Ros pushed extra bedding around him and checked his injury.

‘No,’ she said quietly and willed him not to say what she knew he was thinking – that she should never have taken him home, that they should have put him out of his misery rather than prolonging it.

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