Page 54 of The Women at Ocean's End

She started to fill in the form, noting the final date for applications was drawing close. Then, once she’d filled it in, she popped it into her bag and decided that tomorrow she would get signatures and, once it was in the post, she would go about setting up the committee who would manage the funding. Hopefully she was right and plenty of people would be on board with it.

Later that night she pulled down one of Max Toolis’s old wildlife journals, hoping to gather as much information as she could about the native Irish goat. Over the years, Max had subscribed to quite a few. Mostly, these were the old-fashioned types of magazines that came with a giant folder and, every week, Max had faithfully slotted in the latest issue. He had quite the collection. Ros had enjoyed many hours over the winter months thumbing through the pages. She planned to bring them to him when she went back over to the mainland; if he didn’t want them, she would hold onto them. She was rather hoping she could keep them, they were a real memory of her time spent in the cottage.

There were more farmers than just Jonah Ashe on the island and Ros decided that perhaps she should go to the localdevelopment company before going to the farmers to get help the next morning. The development company on the island were always looking for projects to get involved in. They busied themselves with the tidy village competition every year and ran what approached a chamber of commerce, but really only consisted of the hotel owners and a few of the locals who had self-catering cottages to let out to tourists.

Mai Boland, who was the chief bottle-washer, CEO and head lackey of the outfit, was completely taken with the idea. ‘So, there would be a job in it? I mean, they would pay your wages and you could stay on the island?’

‘That would be the plan and for that, we might actually do some good in staving off forest fires, stop the farmers from complaining about the goats and maybe even make a bit of a thing for the tourists around the presence of the goat on the island?’ Ros had hardly slept a wink all night thinking of the project. ‘But we have to submit the paperwork by the end of the week and I have no idea how many other places will apply for the funding, so…’

‘Well, let’s call the management company the Pin Hill Island Goat Society for now and then, if we’re successful in getting the funding, we’ll put directors in place for governance and…’ Mai rhapsodised on about the possibilities for the project, but Ros just wanted some signatures and she figured they could sort all of that out later, if they were successful in the application.

This was what Ros was still thinking about as she pushed in the back door at Ocean’s End that afternoon. Her mind was full of the possibilities that she might be able to afford to stay on the island after all. It would mean staying with Constance until she got sorted, but she knew that in actual fact that was the very least of her worries.

Constance was just as excited as Ros when she told her what she’d been up to.

‘It’s early days, but at least we’ll get the application in and see what’s to become of it,’ Ros said then, realising she was actually far more enthusiastic about this than she had been about applying for the ranger’s job. ‘So, I might be staying with you for a while after all,’ she told Constance.

‘Oh.’ Constance clapped her hands in delight. ‘That would be just lovely. Mind you, it’s going to mean you’ll have clean out another bedroom,’ she said apologetically.

‘No problem, I’m very easily pleased…’ Ros listened to what sounded like a chime coming from the hall.

‘God, is it that time already?’ It was the clock in the office sounding out the half hour. It had sat dormant for years, now it was working perfectly again. ‘Heather found the key, she found a tray of them tucked away in my mother’s desk. She’s spent half the morning slotting them into various cupboards all over the house to match them with their locks. I think she has most of them figured out at this stage,’ Constance said. ‘How on earth did I manage all these years without that lovely clock?’ she added as she took down the sandwich box that held an array of tablet boxes that seemed to be never very far away. ‘Silly really, Heather said it was only a case of finding the key and giving it an extra wind-up!’

‘It’s a lovely sound, all right,’ Ros agreed. There was something comforting about it. She stood at the window looking out as the sun fell heavy in the sky across the water. It was an incredible view; you could lose yourself in it, really, if you weren’t careful.

*

Back at the ranger’s cottage, the inventory was going slowly. Ros had picked up a few boxes from the local supermarket and, so far, she’d only filled one with items that belonged to her.Constance had told her to put anything she wanted in one of the spare rooms and so all she really had to do was walk out of the cottage with a weekend bag when the time came to leave.

‘Hello, hello…’ A tap on the door startled her and she turned to see Shane standing there. He looked every bit as delicious as the first day he’d arrived on the island. This time, he walked into her little home with a purpose that underscored the fact that this would be his cottage soon. Ros shook off the notion; it was silly, after all, being so precious about a place that had never actually belonged to her to begin with.

‘Hey!’ She smiled at him, it was impossible not to, he was one of those people whose eyes always crinkled as he spoke, making you feel as if you were bringing out the best in him, without even trying. ‘You’re eager, fancy doing a bit of clearing back around the willows down at Wilson’s Banks?’ She was joking him, but there was no point having hard feelings, even though she’d bawled like a baby when she heard he’d gotten the job of her dreams.

‘No, I’m really not that eager,’ he said and he drifted towards the edge of the kitchen table, leaning against it. ‘No goat?’

‘No, I’m afraid George didn’t make it.’

‘Ah, well, that’s the way. I wouldn’t have expected him to anyway, but sweet that you did your best for him,’ he said and he looked around the cottage as if taking in an inventory of his own. ‘Packing already? I’m not due here for another week.’

‘I don’t have much to pack, but I just thought…’ There was no point putting it off.

‘I suppose I’ll be left with all this junk.’ He looked around again, his eyes moving from the well-thumbed periodicals that had been Max Toolis’s to the enormous old throw that Ros had made from old blanket ends she’d found in the back of the hot press. It was another of her winter projects and she thought ithad turned out quite well, considering it was her first attempt at anything like that.

‘No, some of it belongs to Max, I’m going to ask him if he wants me to bring it over to him and…’ she said, looking around the room. It was full of bits and pieces left behind by rangers and their families who had lived here over the years. ‘Actually, yes, you probably will end up with quite a bit of junk, but it’s homely, don’t you think?’

‘I’m a lot more minimalist in my tastes, I’m afraid. I’ll be looking at a good-size skip for most of it.’

‘Oh,’ she said and somehow the idea made her a little sad, which of course was ridiculous; every dog had its day, after all. ‘Anyway, what can I do for you?’

She assumed he’d come to get the measure of the place. God, would he be replacing the old double-lined plaid curtains with Cape Cod–style shutter blinds? She shivered at the notion; maybe it was just as well she wouldn’t be here to see that.

‘No, not a thing, it’s more what I can do for you…’ he said and he headed out to the porch and brought in a medium-sized shopping bag. ‘I thought, maybe we could have dinner and…’ His eyes crinkled again and, in spite of herself, Ros felt her knees almost buckle with a sort of nervy excitement she hadn’t felt in quite a while.

‘So, you came all the way over here just to cook me dinner?’ She wanted to ask him if he’d checked the tides for his return journey, but she supposed he would stay here. After all, this cottage was halfway between being her old home and his new home.

‘I did, but not just any dinner.’ He placed the bag on the table and proceeded to empty it. ‘Steak, red onion, a very nice merlot, a frozen – well, it was when I was leaving Ballycove – chocolate pudding… and…’ He reached into the bottom of the bag, which seemed to be empty at last. ‘What’s this…?’ He made a face as ifsurprised. ‘Oh my, it’s another bottle of merlot!’ And again, that irresistible smile.

‘You really shouldn’t have gone to all that bother.’ And a little part of her wondered at his supreme confidence; what if she’d had other plans? What if she had a boyfriend already? What if… but of course, she didn’t have anything else to do and nowhere else she really had to be this evening and it niggled her a little that perhaps he already took that for granted.

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