Page 18 of The Women at Ocean's End

‘A wild goat is never going to do well caged up, the stress alone…’ Jonah paused. ‘Well anyway, he’s here now, I suppose.’ He stood for a moment assessing the whole set-up. ‘He’s doing a rum job on that plastic bed, isn’t he?’ It was true, in his short spurts of wakefulness, George had managed to gnaw his way through the rim of the old dog bed she’d put him into.

‘A strong antibiotic would go a long way,’ Shane said from his vantage point in the doorway. Ros found herself being gratefulthat he was here, if only to act as a foil against the damning judgement of Jonah.

‘Yes,’ Ros said, but there was no getting away from the fact that George looked a lot worse than he had earlier that day. She took a deep breath. She would not let these men see just how upset she was, she wouldn’t give either of them the satisfaction.

Once George was looked after and Jonah had charged out the back door to whatever was next on his agenda, she and Shane ate in near silence. Shane read over some report he’d pulled from his bag. Ros flicked mindlessly through her phone. It seemed her whole Instagram feed had room for nothing more than images of one soppy goat. It turned out there was an avid goat community on social media and now she was getting messages from people all over the world wishing George well. One girl, Aisha, from Germany owned a goat farm – Ros had been intrigued, because Aisha told her she hadn’t a scrap of land, but her business was thriving. In fact, what she did was brilliant. She was responsible for herding a flock of goats from one mountain to another and, between them, the goats managed to clear the ground of enough growth so that there were no longer mountain fires in the region. ‘See, George,’ she told the sleeping goat that night, ‘your appetite could yet be your greatest strength, if only you’d been born in Germany.’

As she closed her eyes that night, all she could do was pray that George would make it through the night. It was decent of Jonah to think of sending over the vet to her, even if he’d left unsaid that he thought she was foolish for taking George home and trying to patch him up.

The sun was pale lemon, picking out frosty webs and the dew still resting on the grass when Ros and Shane set off the following morning with a flask of strong coffee Ros had made up. It was hard not to feel in good humour as the day stretched out ahead. George, by some miracle, looked a little brighter beforethey left; maybe keeping the wound clean was going some way towards halting an infection.

Early morning birdsong, the rustle of wildlife taking cover as they approached and the sight of fishing boats bobbing out to sea in the distance lifted her spirits further. There had been many times when she’d set off walking and not returned until late evening, bringing a packed lunch and settling down to enjoy views so spectacular they still took her breath away.

They made the journey to the mountain top easily. At this time of year, the silvery rock was washed clean between scraggly clumps of wild grass and occasional clusters of heather and clover. Overhead, the sky had turned to an obstinate grey veil, diluting the sun as if determined to keep its lustre in the shadows. Ros expected the clouds to burst open at any moment with rain to wash the pink-hued walls that lined parts of the path.

‘Famine walls?’ Shane murmured and she presumed he wasn’t asking so much as confirming.

‘Yes, they litter the whole island, but in summer time, with the weather bright, they’re fantastic when you look across the land and see them.’ They were pink and mellow in straight lines going nowhere at all, but standing to attention all the same.

‘It must be very striking,’ he said and his voice was unexpectedly soft.

‘I think so, but then maybe I’m just carried away on the notion of the place,’ she said to cover over her embarrassment. They climbed the final hundred yards in silence. It seemed as if their long strides were in step most of the way and by the time they reached the summit Ros was ready to sit and drink some coffee to catch her breath.

‘I think I understand now,’ he said as they lay back against rocks that had managed to dry off in the morning breeze.

‘What’s that?’

‘Why you called this place your adventure…’ He looked at her. From here, the view across Clew Bay was amazing. Forty or more islands dotted the bay. Beyond the unfettered view it felt as if you were looking towards the end of the world. ‘Yeah, that’s what you said yesterday and I didn’t understand. I just saw bogs and rocky fields, and then one of the men down at the pier said that there are days on end when no boatman worth his salt will even think about landing on the island.’

‘That’s very true.’ They had been cut off for almost a week after Christmas. Ros thought it was the most glorious thing. Thankfully, she had Max’s old chest freezer to work off. It had been packed up with fish and shop-bought bread and frozen berries that he must have spent most of the summer picking out of the hedges on his daily rounds. It was probably lucky he wasn’t coming back; she had put a real dent in his supplies.

‘And I suppose, when I think of adventure, you know, well, I think of trekking in Peru or doing voluntary work in some third-world country that welcomes Westerners who are happy to build homes even though the closest they’ve ever gotten to construction was a box of Lego or a three-D jigsaw puzzle.’

‘Yeah, well, each to his own,’ she said. That really marked out the difference between them. Well for some. None of that mattered now. At this moment, the only thing that concerned her was being here, in this rook’s nest above the world, and she just wanted to enjoy the view. They sat there for a while in silence, both keeping their thoughts to themselves.

The actual work of testing the running streams took very little time, as she knew it would. They had already taken samples on their way up and the return journey to the cottage would be made on the east-facing side of the mountain. Over here, farmers let their sheep graze freely and you were as likely to run into a giant red deer as you might a herd of wild mountain goats.

‘You’ve done a good job here,’ he said as he took the final sample. The water was clear and there was evidence of thriving biodiversity with frogs, newts and even, in the lower reaches the previous day, salmon making their way back to breed.

‘Thank you,’ she said and, this time, she willed herself to look him in the eye, because as much and all as she had enjoyed her time here, she had worked hard, she had given it her all. It had truly been a labour of love, but for that no less a demanding job at times.

‘You’re welcome,’ he said and when he looked at her, for just a moment, she thought she saw something else at play behind his smile. Was he flirting with her?

They walked back to the cottage mostly in silence. Occasionally, Shane would comment on something he spotted in the distance, a falcon overhead or the waves crashing about a trawler making its way out to deeper waters.

‘So, that’s it.’ He stood awkwardly by his boat later before setting back for the mainland. ‘I mean, I probably won’t see you around, you’ll be finishing up soon and then back to city life,’ he said and it felt as if he was asking her something, except she wasn’t entirely sure what it was. As they stood there, she almost forgot about the fact that he had been so dismissive of her the previous day. For the briefest moment, she held her breath as a wordless tension sat between them and she wondered if he was going to lean forward and kiss her. Then the screech of a seagull broke the spell. Just as well.

‘Hey,’ a familiar deep voice called from along the pier. ‘I’ve been looking for you, the vet’s just finished on my farm. He’s calling out to a sick calf over on the other side of the island, so he should be back at yours in the next hour or so…’

‘Er, yeah, thanks…’ Ros said, but she was completely discombobulated. What had just happened? Had Shane McPherson just been about to kiss her? She looked up at himnow, distracted by Jonah Ashe, bloody nuisance of a man. ‘Sorry, I better get back to George.’

‘Hope he’s all right,’ Shane said softly.

‘Fingers crossed,’ she shouted as she backed away from him.

‘Ros,’ he called to her again, took in the space between them in a few long strides. ‘Just… if you did find yourself over in Ballycove… um, if you fancied lunch or dinner or something, you know… give me a call, yeah?’

‘Yeah, that might be nice,’ she whispered, feeling her stomach flip because he was standing so close to her now.

---