A Very Irish Christmas

Chapter 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

I soon realise that Cork pubs are not quite like other pubs. There’s a whole heritage trail based on them – there’s even a map.

This, though, is Ryan’s trail – and we start at a place called the Hi-B Bar, which is located up a steep flight of stairs and is basically a bit like sitting in a very lively living room with a bunch of friends you haven’t met yet. We raise our glasses to Nanna Nora, and down a pint of Guinness each – me quite a bit more slowly than Ryan. After that, we move on to a place called The Long Valley.

There, we snag a little table at the back of the pub, where we enjoy people-watching a group of office workers on their Christmas night out. Everyone is dressed as an elf, which is a feast for the eyes.

After our toast, Ryan says: ‘Have you any pictures of her, the famous Nora? If I’m going to be celebrating her until my brains dribble out of my ears, I’d at least like to see her.’

‘I can do better than that,’ I say, grabbing my phone and heading to the videos. I pick one at random, and he leans close to watch.

‘That’s my sister, Suzie,’ I tell him, seeing that it’s a video we did together, sitting on lawn chairs in the yard at my mom and dad’s house.

‘Does Suzie always have that face on? Like she’s just eaten a rotten kipper?’

‘Yeah, she does actually! She looks like me, though, doesn’t she?’

‘Like a version of you that’s been ironed, and had all the joy sucked out.’

‘She’s not that bad! Well… you know what, she kind of is! But I’m her sister so I’m allowed to bad-mouth her, and you’re not.’

‘Fair play. Ah… just look at your nanna. She’s a treat for the eyes!’

It was a sunny day, and she’d insisted on wearing a hat a friend had brought her back from Australia – like a cowboy hat but with corks dangling off it on strings. It’s very, very silly – and very, very Nora. I suspect she did it just to annoy Suzie.

‘What’s the secret to a happy life, Nanna?’ I asked, the cheesy question making Suzie’s eyes roll. ‘Tell us how you always manage to seem so upbeat!’

I smile as I watch, but I also feel a rush of sadness. Nanna Nora’s life had been blighted by pain, by heartbreak. By the loss of both her first love, and in the end the family that rejected her for loving him. You’d never know it from the mischievous grin that creases her wrinkled face.

‘There’s no magic formula, girls – if there was, I’d have millions in the bank! But if you’re wanting my tips, I’ll give you a few. Firstly, don’t worry about the things that don’t matter, or what other people think of you – and I’m aiming that one at you, Boozy Suzie!’

My sister raises her wine glass at her, and Nanna thinks before she goes on.

‘Go for long walks,’ she says next. ‘There’s not much in life that can’t be figured out over a good long walk. The world is a beautiful place, and it’s best seen with your own eyeballs and not over a wee screen. Now, then, what else… well, laugh, as often as you can. Sing, dance, make a fool of yourself. Life is all about the craic. Enjoy every moment, because believe me, they go by faster than you’d believe – even when you’ve had as many as I have!’

She cackles at her own joke, and all the little corks on her hat wobble around her face. She looks up at me from between the strings, and adds: ‘I’d say, above all else – always follow your heart. It might lead you into trouble, but at least you’ll enjoy the ride – I know I have!’

I press pause, and she freeze-frames on the tiny screen, her eyes shining and a playful smile on her face.

Ryan leans back, raises his half-empty glass, and says: ‘Well now, that deserves an extra toast – to Nanna Nora, may she rest in peace!’

‘Well,’ I say, clinking my glass against his, ‘if she’s in heaven, there won’t be any peace, I’m pretty sure – she’ll have everyone organised into a conga line!’

‘That’s all for the good – bet it can get pretty boring up there, what with all that perfection. Right. Come on. Next stop.’

Our crawl goes on, taking in live music, singers, and even a poetry reading. By the time we reach our fifth stop, the Mutton Lane Inn, I am feeling much better about life. In fact, I’m feeling great about it. We are settled into a cosy corner seat in the dimly lit pub, and I stare around at the pictures on the walls, realising that I can’t quite read them clearly.

‘I think the walls might be moving,’ I announce solemnly. ‘Could be an earthquake – should we get under a table?’

He laughs, and says: ‘I think we should probably get you back to your hotel after this one. You’re scuttered.’

‘I am? What does that mean?’

‘It means you’re ossified. Blathered. Stocious. Completely battered.’

‘Wow, you guys have a lot of words for “drunk”, don’t you?’

‘We do. Part of our rich cultural heritage. Now come on, let’s be on our way.’

I consider protesting, because I don’t really want this to end. I haven’t thought about anything bad for the whole session – and Nanna Nora would be proud of the way I’ve concentrated on living in the moment, I think. But I know he’s right – I’m not usually a heavy drinker, and I am starting to feel the call of my bed.

We make our way back onto the street, and it’s deliciously full of people in a similar state to me. I call out hellos, and make new friends, and giggle when I slip on a patch of snow. We come across a busker singing alone with a little keyboard on a stand, and I immediately decide that it’s a good idea to start dancing. I jig around, catching strangers by the arms and taking them for a spin, loving every moment of it.

When Ryan finally takes hold of me, putting his arm around my shoulders and steering me away, I protest: ‘Why do we have to leave? What’s wrong with having a little jig?’

‘Nothing at all, darlin’ – it’s just that the fella there was singing a ballad. “My Heart Will Go On” from Titanic , as it happens.’

‘Oh. Yeah. That’s not a very jiggy song, is it? Was he annoyed with me for spoiling his Celine moment?’

‘I left him a few euro to make up for it. I’m sure his art will go on.’

I laugh way more than this joke deserves, and we make our way through the busy streets towards my hotel by the river. Once we’re inside, Ryan snags some candy bars and a can of soda from the bar, and accompanies me upstairs.

He lays them on my bedside cabinet, as though he thinks I might need them in the morning. He may be right, I think, slightly dizzy. I might wake up tomorrow with a case of Martin Byrne’s ‘fear’. I tip the contents of my purse out on the bed, smoosh everything around, and finally find what I’m looking for – a strip of painkillers. I add them to the supplies, feeling quite pleased with myself for being such a Girl Scout.

‘Excellent idea,’ he says, grinning.

‘Well, I’m a details person! Wow. I’ve had an amazing night. So much fun. I didn’t think I’d ever smile again after hearing that story about Nanna Nora. Thank you, Ryan, for taking such good care of me. You’re a lot nicer than you pretend to be.’

‘Keep that a secret, now, won’t you? I have a reputation to protect.’

‘Ha! You and your reputation… you know, you can’t be that much of a playboy. I’ve been here for weeks and although you’ve flirted, you’ve never once made a move on me. It’s enough to give a girl a complex.’

I’m being playful, but I’m also standing close to him, looking up into that gorgeous face. Looking at that thick, dark hair, and wondering what it would be like to bury my hands in it. Admiring his muscular arms, and imagining what it might be like to be held in them. Remembering the sight of him back at Bancroft Manor, wearing only a white towel slung low on his hips.

That single image is enough to make me blush, and I suddenly feel a little out of control. Like the booze has unleashed something inside of me that has been lurking there all along.

I reach up, run my fingers along his cheekbone, entwine them in his hair. He leans into my touch, and I see the change in his eyes – the humour is gone, replaced by something darker. Something wilder.

‘Be careful now, Cassie,’ he says, his voice low. ‘I’m only human.’

‘So am I. And isn’t this the most human thing in the world? Wanting somebody?’

He makes a noise that is half growl, and tugs me towards him. I fall into his body, feeling his arms go around me, his hands on the small of my back. I wind my hands around his neck, holding on tight, refusing to break the eye contact.

One of his hands runs up my body, twines into my hair. He holds me there, and I know I should pull away. I know I should end this before it begins, but I can’t. I stare at his lips, and want them on mine.

When he finally leans down and kisses me, it is electric. Every cell in my body responds to him, every part of me comes alive. I mould myself into him, losing my senses as the kiss deepens, as my hands roam, as all thought disappears. My knees literally go weak in a way I’ve never experienced before.

I cling on to him, lost in the sensations of having him close, of the touch of his fingers and his mouth. If what I’d felt with Charles was a spark, this is a full-on forest fire, and I am happy to burn alive.

When he eventually pulls away, I can almost hear my heart thudding, and feel abandoned as he sighs and shakes his head.

I keep my grasp on his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but he takes hold of my hands and removes them from his body.

‘This isn’t right,’ he says, sounding as lost as I am. ‘I have to go.’

‘It is right! Nothing has ever felt so right. Don’t leave. Stay here with me.’

My fingers are curled inside his, and the heat is still there – even a shadow of that kiss is enough to make me reckless.

He gazes into my eyes for what feels like an eternity, obviously wrestling with himself, and then says: ‘No. You’re drunk, Cassie. You’re drunk, and you’ve had a hard day, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s your Nanna Nora on my shoulder like a devil, telling me to follow my heart.’

He gently pushes me away from him, disentangles his hands from mine. He softly touches my face, sweeps aside my hair, and gives me one more kiss – a chaste one, on my forehead, that is a pale imitation of what came before it.

‘Damn,’ he says, his eyes bright and shining as he drinks me in. ‘Look what you’ve gone and done.’

‘What have I done?’ I reply.

‘You’ve gone and made me break one of my hard-earned rules, that’s what.’

He shoves his hands in his pockets, and I frown in confusion.

‘No, I haven’t! I’m not married, and I don’t really live in the village – I’m only visiting!’

He laughs, and turns to leave. As he reaches the door he looks back and adds: ‘I’ll let you ponder that one, darlin’. Now get some sleep.’