Page 9 of The Matchmaker
“I will not be doing that.”
“Every morning she’s woken by an issue that we will all have to contend with soon. And it’s that issue I want to talk about tonight.Traffic.”
“Hah! Called it.” Gemma twists back to the bar and reaches out a hand to Adam, who returns her ten-euro note with a scowl.
“Double or nothing she asks us to start chaining ourselves to trees,” he says, and Gemma scoffs.
“Deal.”
“We have one road coming in and out of this village,” Nush continues. “One. What’s it going to be like when we’re suddenly adding another five hundred people to our population? We don’t have footpaths. We don’t even have traffic lights. It’s a recipe for disaster, and I’m thinking in particular of the dangers for the younger members of our community.” She places a hand over her heart. “As a mother—”
“You’re not a mother,” Frank interrupts.
“I have a son.”
“You have a cat. Gemma has a son.”
“You can have him if you want him,” Gemma calls. “I’m more than happy to trade.”
Nush ignores her. “Cats are expensive, Frank. Chester ate a piece of rope the other day, and I paid a hundred euros for the vet to tell me he’ll just have to poop it out. Ahundredeuros.”
“You shouldn’t have given him the rope then.”
“I didn’t give him the rope! He found the rope!”
“Can we keep this meeting moving?” Adam calls, not even looking up as he wipes down the toastie machine. “Please?”
“I’m just further proving my point,” Nush continues. “A hundred euros for rope poop. Think how much it will cost to fix a broken leg or an operation should Chester be knocked down. Should any of us be knocked down. You, Danny,” she says, pointing to Danny O’Meara who has the misfortune of sitting closest to her. “You could be knocked down. Do you want that?”
Danny pauses with his Guinness halfway to his mouth. “No?”
“No,” Nush echoes. “He does not. Which is why we need to consider the traffic that will be brought into the area as a result of the hotel.Taxiscoming and going at all hours of the day.Tourbuses parking where they should not be parking.Richpeople in Land Rovers doing God knows what. Who is going to take care of the roads with the increased wear on them? Because the council certainly doesn’t answer my emails. And I—”
Nush breaks off, her gaze shooting to the ceiling as a collective gasp ripples throughout the pub. Before any of us can so much as blink, the lights above us flicker before shutting off, bathing the lounge in instant darkness.
Blackout.
“See!” Nush exclaims, yelling to be heard over the ensuing groans. Adam curses behind me as Gemma raises her wine glass in a mock toast. “This is the second time this month. Coincidence?”
More than likely, but I’ve got to give it to her for trying to lay the blame on Glenmill.
The power cuts have been happening my whole life. Electricity is generally unreliable out here, and when outages happen, they tend to focus on getting the bigger towns back up and running first. I hate to say it, but we’re almost used to them at this stage.
“You can stay here as long as you like,” Adam calls over the annoyed grumbling. “So long as no one tells the insurance people. Honor code, folks.”
Phone screens light up, casting small white glows around the room as a few people start to rise, muttering about houses and families andnot again. Nush gives up trying to regain their attention and rings the bell to end the meeting. Sometimes, these things only last a few seconds, but other times they can go on for hours, and no one wants to take the risk.
“Katie?” Adam calls over, as he lights a handful of candles for the tables. “Could you grab some torches from the shed? Keys in the office,” he adds, and I raise a hand in acknowledgment as I slip away, grabbing the key ring and some loose change from his desk, before heading out the back door.
It’s pitch-black outside, but the sky is clear and full of stars, and I pause to gaze out at the lake as it shimmers silently. The forest that brackets the other side is dark and still and might be eerie if I didn’t know it like the back of my hand.
Once the summer hits, the patio where I’m standing will be full of people enjoying the sun, but right now it’s empty bar the weathered picnic bench pushed to the side and the old wishing well right in front of me. The latter has been here for so long, most people don’t even notice it anymore, but I think if Kelly’s is my favorite place in the world, then the well is my favorite place in Kelly’s.
It’s a bit of a tradition for me to come here. Though maybe addiction is a better word for it. Because just like how a few of our regulars always seem to relax after their first sip of the day, something in my chest eases every time I make a wish.
And after the day I’ve had, that’s exactly what I need right now.
I walk slowly around it, running my hands over the stones until I feel the faint etching on the far side, the initials of two love-drunk kids who’d grow up to have me.
