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By the time we drove down the leafy avenue leading to Kilkenny castle, I’d recovered my calm and my determination not to get romantically or even sexually involved with Colin. It would be hard, but I’d mastered greater challenges.
I pulled up in front of the entrance to the castle. “Here it is. The famous Butlers of Ormonde stronghold.”
“Butlers of Ormonde? Who were they?” Colin asked, looking up at the stone walls rising above us.
“Go inside and find out,” I ordered. “Visit the castle and walk around the gardens for an hour or two. I’ll call you when I’ve finished my research, and we can go and see the Tudor house in the centre of town.”
Colin sighed theatrically. “So much history in one day. I don’t know if my tiny brain can take it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do your best. There aren’t that many people here, so you might just escape discovery.”
“I hope so. Staying incognito is my motto today.”
“Good luck.”
“See ya later, darlin’.” Colin got out of the car, put two fingers to his baseball cap in a jaunty salute and sauntered into the castle.
I sighed and continued down the avenue in search of a parking space, difficult to find in this popular tourist town. But luck was on my side, and I managed to squeeze in between a Volkswagen van with Dutch number plates and a Toyota Yaris from County Meath in the main square.
I didn’t have far to go. The address I’d been given was of a small coffee shop just off the main street, five minutes’ walk away. It had stopped raining, and the skies brightened as I walked along the wet pavement, past tiny cottages and Victorian houses. I turned the corner and immediately spotted a white cottage with a sign saying Moe’s Café over the green door. A bell jingled as I walked into the cosy shop with mouth-watering smells of vanilla and cinnamon and newly baked bread. A grey-haired woman in a frilly apron was arranging buns in a pile behind the counter.
She looked up and smiled as I walked in. “Good morning.”
“Hello,” I said. “Those buns look good.”
“I just made them.”
“They smell divine. I’ll have one of those and a cup of coffee, please.”
The woman nodded. “Sit down by the window, and I’ll bring it all to you.”
I sat down and gazed out the window while I waited. The street was becoming busy, with tourists and a busload of schoolchildren making their way to the Tudor house across the street.
“Here you go,” the woman said as she put a cup of coffee and a bun on a plate on my table.
“Oh, thank you. That was quick.” I paused. “Are you Moe?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Moe Keegan? Johnny’s aunt?”
She nodded. “I am. Do you know Johnny?”
“Not really, no. My name is Finola McGee, and I took over Johnny’s position at The Knockmealdown News when he left.”
“Oh.” Her face was immediately less friendly and a lot more suspicious. “Who told you where to find me?”
“Fergal O’Hanlon.”
“The vet?”
I nodded. “That’s right. Johnny’s friend.” I leaned on my elbows and looked at her pleadingly. “Moe, I need to find Johnny and his family.”
She backed away, clasping her hands. “Why?”
“Because I want his help to find the little creeps who bullied his stepson.”
“What for? It’ll only cause a lot of trouble.”
“But if we let them continue, they’ll be torturing other young people,” I argued.
Moe stood for a moment, looking as if she was trying to decide what to do. “Johnny said he didn’t want anyone to know where he went.”
I nodded and tore a piece off the bun. “Perfectly understandable. But I’m not anyone.”
Moe folded her arms. “You’re a journalist.”
“Yes, but I don’t intend to write about this. Not directly, anyway.” I took a deep breath. “Moe, I hate bullies. It’s the one thing that makes me see red. And what those shits put Drago through must not go unpunished. They have to be stopped. Don’t you see that?”
“I—” The bells on the door jingled and a couple walked in. “I have to go,” Moe whispered and regained her place behind the counter.
I sighed and sank my teeth into the delicious vanilla-flavoured bun. Moe was a tough woman to convince. I watched her serve the couple, and then two women and a young girl came in, followed by four German tourists. The café was becoming crowded. Moe wouldn’t be available for any more questions.
When I’d finished my coffee, I walked to the counter and asked for my bill. Moe nodded and scribbled something on a slip of paper. I checked the amount. It said seven euros fifty. I was about to dig into my handbag for money when I noticed something else written in small letters at the bottom of the bill. It said “Ahakista.”
I looked at Moe. “West Cork? Is that where they are?”
She nodded and took the ten-euro note I handed her. “Yes, but that’s all I know.”
“Thanks. Keep the change. The bun was delicious.”
She nodded, gave me a wan smile and turned to the next customer. I could tell she regretted revealing Johnny’s whereabouts.
I looked again at the name on the bill. Ahakista, a small village on the remote Sheepshead peninsula, about four hours by car from Cloughmichael. I’d never been there. Could be a very close-knit community. Would the villagers be willing to tell me where Johnny was living? Not very likely. People in remote areas like that were often suspicious of strangers. But I had to at least try.
***
I walked back to the castle, mulling over the morning’s event. Annoyingly, the surprise clinch with Colin kept popping up. I just couldn’t get the feel of his lips, his hands, his body out of my mind. What female under the age of sixty could resist him? Me, I decided. He was just fooling around, and if I got in any deeper, I’d end up looking like a stupid eejit with a broken heart. I didn’t want it broken yet again. Twice was enough, and my first heartbreak had been the one that left the deepest scars.
Eoin, the love of my life, my friend, my soulmate. We fell in love at college and were inseparable for two years, engaged for six months with a wedding planned for after our graduation.
Then he met Orla. How I hated her. Hated her frail little body, her pretty face, blonde hair, sweet voice and gentle ways. She’d stolen my only love with just a bat of her long eyelashes and soft laugh. Eoin had been contrite but adamant. He didn’t love me, he said, never really had. Orla had made him realise what real love was. And she wanted a family. I wanted a career in journalism. It was over. Eoin, being a gentleman, put it around that I was the one who’d broken off the engagement. So I was at least spared the pity. I didn’t go to their wedding.
Later, we would become friends, and I even came to like Orla. Especially when Eoin was so brutally murdered and I was working on the case. She showed such strength and courage then, and I finally understood why Eoin loved her so much. But the wounds of the broken engagement never really healed.
My second engagement was a huge mistake, from which I walked away with a sense of relief and a feeling deep inside that I’d never have any luck in love.
I promised myself then that I’d only get into a relationship with a man if I truly trusted him. Colin inspired a lot of feelings in a woman, but trust wasn’t one of them.
I reached the castle at the same time as the sun broke through the clouds. I walked through the entrance into the gardens, and stopped dead and stared at the scene that met my eyes: Colin, surrounded by giggling women posing with him and taking selfies. Some of them even kissed him. He was laughing and chatting, looking as if he was having the time of his life.
He waved when he saw me. “Hi, Finola!” he called and pulled away from the women. “Excuse me, ladies, my friend wants me.”
“Define incognito,” I hissed in his ear as the women proceeded to take pictures of us.
He looked only slightly sheepish. “Yeah, well, they were there during the guided tour, and then one of them pointed at me and asked, ‘Aren’t you Colin Foley?’, so what was I supposed to do? Say no, you’re wrong, I’m Seamus Moriarty?’ In any case, it’s good publicity and—”
“And you love the attention, you sneak.”
He laughed. “Yeah. Especially with these cute women. They could all be my mother, judging by their looks. Aren’t they sweet?”
“Like barracudas. They’ll post those selfies on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and God knows where else.”
“Yeah, sure. But that’s all great publicity, isn’t it?”
“Colin, put your arm around your girlfriend and smile,” one of the women called.
Before I had a chance to react, Colin put his arm around me and swivelled me to face the women. He kissed my cheek. They all picked up their phones and snapped away.
I tore away from Colin. “Oh, terrific. Now I’ll be plastered on the front page of The Sun as your bloody girlfriend before we know it.”
“So what? It’s only a bit of fun.”
“At my expense. I’d hoped to keep a low profile after all the trouble I’ve been through.” I turned and walked away. “Come on, time to go. I’m parked in the square.”
“But what about the Tudor house?”
“I think you’ve done enough sight-seeing. We’ll only run into more of your fans.”
“What about lunch? I’m quite peckish.”
I stopped and sighed. “We have to eat, I suppose. Maybe we can buy a sandwich and eat in the car?”
“I have a better idea. Isn’t Mount Juliet near Kilkenny?”
“You mean the five-star country-house hotel?”
“That’s the one. We can have lunch there.”
I stared at him. “Are you kidding? The way you’re dressed, they’ll throw you out on your ear.”
He whipped off his sunglasses and beamed at me. “But I’m Colin Foley. They’ll let me in naked.”
“You’ll use your fame to get in? Have you no shame?”
“No.”
“Why did I ask?” I muttered and continued through the entrance and down the street, Colin behind me. We reached the square and I got into the car. Suddenly, the ridiculousness of the situation hit me, and I started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Colin asked getting in beside me.
“Me. You. Us.” I turned on the engine. “But what the hell. Let’s shake them up at Mount Juliet.”
“Now you’re talking.”
***
But instead of invading Mount Juliet, we ended up having a burger at a roadside restaurant. I wasn’t the one to chicken out. Colin suddenly got cold feet at the entrance.
“Wait a minute,” he said, taking the earphones of his phone out of his ears. “Let’s not do this.”
I pulled up beside the big gates. “Why not? I was looking forward to seeing their faces when you unveiled your true persona. I could see us being turned away, only to get the best table as you revealed who you were. Egg on the face of the maître d’ and all that.”
“Yarra bollocks. It’s all a load of shite. Let’s go back and get a pizza or something.”
I sighed. “God, you’re such a moody little prima donna. But okay, I was having my doubts about the whole thing, anyway.”
“I didn’t actually think you’d go for it.”
“You were having me on?”
“Yeah.” He leaned his head back and tilted the baseball cap over his face. “I’m tired and hungry. Feed me and take me back home, darlin’.”
“Okay.” I was about to start the car again, when a black Mercedes swept past us through the gates. I caught a glimpse of the two men inside and recognised one of them: Oliver O’Keefe, the politician Rory had introduced me to in the pub that day after my date with Fergal. I didn’t know the driver, but Colin did.
He sat up and pointed at the Merc disappearing up the avenue. “You know who that was?”
“Yes. Oliver O’Keefe. Local politician. Big noise in Cloughmichael.”
“Not him,” Colin argued. “The other guy. That was that gobshite what’s-his-name. Head of the Irish Democrats or whatever they’re called.”
“The new party? They got two seats in the last election.”
“They’ll get more in the next one,” Colin stated. “Just look up their website and read their manifesto. Scary stuff.”
I stared at him. “I didn’t know you were interested in politics.”
“This is my country. I want to know where it’s going.”
“Good for you. But why did you say the Irish Democrats are scary?”
Colin snorted. “Because they look like bloody Nazis. Thought you might have noticed, being a political reporter and all. The stuff they put out is thinly veiled racism.”
“I haven’t been in touch with the current trends for a while,” I had to admit.
Colin sighed and slumped in his seat. “You’d better catch up. But right now, I’m starving. Take me to some food, okay?”
“Right away, your lordship,” I quipped and drove off. It didn’t take us long to find a petrol station with a fast-food restaurant attached, where we enjoyed a lunch more to Colin’s liking: a cheeseburger deluxe with extra fries and ketchup.
The drive back was not as fraught with sexual tension as I’d feared. Colin spent most of the hour on his phone, taking orders from the production team and his publicist. The shooting would start the following day, and from then on, I wouldn’t see much of Colin, he said.
I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed. But I knew a time away from temptation would be good for me.