Page 37 of For Love or Money
‘Sorry I’m a bit late,’Al said when he picked her up just after two. ‘I had a site visit this morning that went on longer than expected.’
‘No problem,’ Lesley said as he took her case from her and led the way to his car. He put her case in the boot, then went around to the passenger side and held the door open for her.
‘So, where are we off to?’ she asked as she fastened her seatbelt.
‘Doonbeg, in Clare. We’re going to stay with my aunt Jane.’
‘Oh.’ Lesley tried not to look too put out, but she’d been secretly hoping for a five-star boutique hotel (sans spa) or an exclusive country house that specialised in amazing yet hearty food. Then it dawned on her that he was talking about Jane Howard, Peter’s ex-wife. The Howard family were Irish theatrical royalty, and Lesley had fond memories of Jane playing the starring role in a TV series of Jane Austen’sEmmawhen she was a teen. But she’d given up acting and was now a successful writer of historical novels.
‘She wants to discuss Peter’s engagement. She’s quite worried about the whole thing, and since neither of my cousins are in the country at the moment, I said I’d go see her.’
‘Well, you might have told me,’ Lesley huffed. She would have made more of an effort if she’d known they were going to meet his famous aunt.
‘Why? You’ll like Jane,’ Al said, with what Lesley supposed was meant to be a reassuring smile.
‘But I would have dressed up a bit more if I’d known we were going to stay with Jane Howard.’
‘Don’t worry about that. Aunt Jane doesn’t set the bar very high. In fact, she’s pretty scruffy when she’s knocking around at home.’
‘Gee, thanks a lot!’
‘I didn’t mean it like that. You look great.’
‘So is she your aunt by marriage?’
‘No, she’s my mum’s sister. And Dad and Peter are brothers.’
‘So the two sisters married two brothers?’ No wonder Al’s family seemed so close-knit. ‘Does she live on her own?’
‘Yes, since she split up with Peter. I thought she might move after the divorce, but she’s very attached to the place. It’s her old family home – quite grand, or at least it used to be. But it’s fallen to rack and ruin a bit in the last few years. I’ve made plans for renovating it, but she can’t bear the upheaval, and I’ve never managed to persuade her to move out for long enough to get it done. So it’s a bit of a wreck, really.’
Oh well, Lesley thought, at least there wouldn’t be a spa.
Al’s carwas a point in his favour, Lesley decided, as they bowled along the motorway. She liked four-wheel drives, but unfortunately most people driving them around Dublin had to be written off as wankers, thus cancelling out all their cachet. But as an architect, she figured Al had a legitimate excuse for having the Land Rover, evidenced by the hard hat sitting on the back seat alongside a neatly folded wax jacket and a scatter of rolled-up plans. There was even a pair of mud-splattered wellies, she noted with satisfaction.
She appreciated the comfort of the plush leather seats and the smooth suspension on the long drive to Clare, especially once they hit the bumpy country roads, and she had to admit Al was an excellent road-trip companion. He had an impressive stash of chocolate bars in the glove box, and his playlist met with her approval, apart from a brief foray into the Bay City Rollers – ‘They were mum’s favourite,’ he claimed in his defence, so she made allowances as he yodelled along happily to ‘Summerlove Sensation’ and ‘Shang-A-Lang’, and she even did some harmonies on ‘Bye Bye Baby’ as a show of support.
It was just after five when they turned through an open metal gate onto a bumpy track overhung by tall trees, the branches of dense, unkempt fuchsia bushes scraping the sides of the car as they passed. They stopped in front of a large double-fronted house with stone steps leading up to a columned porch. It looked very stately, if somewhat run down, and Lesley imagined rooms draped with tapestries, a huge entrance hall with stuffed birds in a glass case, four-poster beds and toasted crumpets in front of a massive roaring fire. Maybe she’d have the country house experience after all, she thought, as she hopped out of the car.
Al got their bags from the boot, along with a large cool box. He dumped them on the gravel, then leaned into the back seat and took out several large brown grocery bags.
‘Can you take these?’ he asked, handing them to Lesley.
Then he led her around the steps to a door at the side of the house. He pushed it open and waved Lesley in ahead of him. She stepped into a big, old-fashioned country kitchen with a red-tiled floor. A wooden dresser painted a soft green and crammed with mismatched china stood against one wall, a dark green range beside it, covered in pots and pans. Under the grimy window there was a long table of unvarnished wood, piled high with newspapers, magazines and books. A rocking chair sat in one corner, stuffed with colourful squashy cushions. It had been a pleasantly mild day, but there was a chill in the air that had Lesley automatically rubbing her arms as she looked around. It seemed cooler in here than it had been outside – darker too, she thought. But maybe that was down to the film of dirt on the windows. Greasy plates and coffee-stained mugs littered every surface and the sink was piled high with dishes sitting in a basin of murky water.
‘It’s cold in here, isn’t it?’ Al said cheerfully, rubbing his hands together.
‘Bloody freezing!’
‘I wonder where Jane is.’
‘Do you think something’s happened to her?’
‘What do you mean?’ Al frowned.
‘Well, the state of the place …’
‘Oh, she’s working on a book,’ Al said, as if that explained everything. ‘Deadline looming, I believe.’
