Page 71 of A Merry Irish Christmas
‘What about you, trying to push a poor orphan boy out into the snow to spend Christmas all alone in a strange land?’
‘It wasn’t snowing.’
‘You know what I mean – metaphorical snow.’
They looked at each other and both burst out laughing.
‘Well, I’m glad now that I let you stay and teach me all about baseball,’ Mary said, tracing a bicep with one finger.
‘It was my pleasure.’ He grinned. ‘You’re a very quick study.’
‘Only I’m not sure I’ve quite got the hang of third base yet. I might need a recap – if you’re up for it,’ she said, snaking a hand under the duvet. He was definitely up for it.
‘Why don’t we try to find a game on TV later and I’ll talk you through it?’
‘You know what I mean,’ Mary said as she leaned in to kiss him. ‘Metaphorical third base.’
24
They spent the rest of the morning in bed, and were just contemplating getting up for food, when the doorbell rang.
‘Who could that be?’ Mary got up and pulled on a dressing gown, then ran downstairs to answer the door. Hilary and Charlie were standing in the porch.
‘Oh! Sorry to get you up.’ Hilary’s eyes widened. ‘I didn’t think you’d still be in bed.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Mary blushed. ‘Jet lag.’
‘Right. We’re going back to Dublin today, and Charlie just wanted to say goodbye to Evan, if that’s okay. Is he around?’
‘Yes, he’s just… I think he’s in the shower. Come in.’ She waved them inside, then raced upstairs to get Evan.
He threw on some clothes quickly and followed Mary downstairs. Mary noticed Hilary’s sly smirk as Evan appeared behind her, barefoot and running a hand through his tousled hair.
‘Hey, buddy!’ He grinned as Charlie ran up to him and gave him a hug. ‘You came to see me?’
‘Do you want tea? Or coffee?’ Mary asked Hilary as Charlie engaged Evan in a last game of Mario Kart on his Nintendo.
‘No thanks. We’re setting off shortly. Just one game, Charlie,’ she called to her son.
Mary sat beside her on the sofa. ‘Please don’t tell your mother about this.’
‘About what?’ Hilary asked innocently.
‘About… you know, me being in bed at this hour.’
‘Your jet lag you mean?’ Hilary smiled. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know.’ Her gaze drifted to Evan. ‘I mean that’s enough to give any woman jet lag.’
Mary laughed. ‘Thanks, Hilary. I owe you.’
When Charlie had beaten Evan at Mario Kart and taken a round of selfies with him to show his friends in Dublin, they waved him and his mother off.
‘You think they know we were boning?’ Evan asked as Mary closed the door.
‘I don’t think Charlie suspected a thing. His mother’s a different matter. But don’t worry, I’ve sworn her to secrecy.’
After a lunch of smoked salmon with some of Evan’s soda bread, they went for a walk on the beach. Evan said he needed the exercise – ‘I have to get back into that Spidey suit soon’ – and Mary decided she could do with some fresh air. The rest of the day was spent mostly in bed, only getting up to eat. They grazed on sausage rolls, toasties and mince pies – anything that was quick and that they could eat with their hands because they didn’t have time to waste cooking or setting tables. In between bouts of energetic sex, they talked and talked – about books and bands and New York restaurants – and found they loved so many of the same things. They’d both seen Taylor Swift in Madison Square Garden on the same night, though Evan had gone backstageafterwards and actually met her. They both loved the novels of Ann Patchett and Celeste Ng, and agreed that Katz’s still made the best pastrami sandwiches in New York, thatThe Empire Strikes Backwas the best Star Wars movie, and that hanging out in Central Park was their favourite way to spend a summer’s day in the city.
Evan talked about growing up as an only child in Portland and losing his parents when he was thirteen. They’d died in a car crash on the way home from a friend’s wedding. His mother had been a librarian and his father an art teacher. They’d passed on their love of literature and the arts to him and encouraged his interest in acting. Mary told him what it was like growing up in Dingle, and the fun and frustration of being one of five siblings grappling for space and attention.
