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The feature in The Irish Times was stunning. The photos of Miranda and Dessie were beautiful and evocative with a wistful, nostalgic air that would capture the imagination of many readers.
“They’re like real 1930s photos,” Audrey remarked as she read the weekend magazine at the kitchen table. “It’s amazing how black-and-white photos are much more realistic than colour.”
Marcus looked at the photos over Audrey’s shoulder. “He’s a damned good photographer. The photos have a sad air, as if the women in them are long gone.” He smiled at Dessie sitting at the opposite end. “You and your sister are very good models.”
Dessie shrugged. “It was nothing we did. It was the place, the mist, the house, and all those things in it. I felt as if I’d gone back in time. It was a little spooky, to be honest.”
Audrey nodded and turned the page. “And here’s the piece about the house and the whole story of the family. This should make the auction big news.”
“Just as I planned,” Marcus said. He picked up his plate and cup. “I’ll be off.”
“Hunting?” Audrey asked.
“It’s Saturday,” Marcus replied.
“Of course,” Audrey snapped. “Why did I ask?”
Marcus glanced at her. “Yes, why did you?”
Audrey shrugged. “Just for fun. Have a good day. See you at the pub tonight?”
“I’ll let you know. Bye, Dessie. See you at the house tomorrow. We’re starting on the upstairs rooms, remember?”
“What’s going on with you two?” Dessie asked when Marcus had left. “Do I sense a little tension there?”
Audrey looked down at her plate. “Don’t know. He’s difficult to figure out.” She looked up at Dessie. “But maybe I am too.” She sighed and helped herself to a slice of soda bread from the basket. “It’s complicated. We’re so different. We get along, sure, and we have fun conversations.” She let out a laugh. “And in bed, he’s amazing. You’d think he was Italian or something.”
“That’s a start, isn’t it? I mean, if you get on in bed...” Dessie’s thoughts strayed to Rory and his remarkable skills in that area.
Audrey looked thoughtful. “I suppose that’s important, if all you want is a fling. But if you’re hoping for something more than that...” She stopped and stuffed the rest of her bread into her mouth. “Never mind,” she said when she’d swallowed. “Maybe it’s better not to think too much. Just enjoy it while it lasts?”
“I can’t answer that,” Dessie replied. “Either way, it ends in tears. Always does.”
Audrey nodded. “Except if you find that ‘until death do us part’ guy. And if you do, hang on to him and never let him go.”
“Even if it means having to give up your career or move away from home?”
“You sound as if you’re asking yourself the question.”
Dessie fixed Audrey with her gaze. “I might have been, but now I’m asking you.”
Audrey was silent for a long while. “Yes,” she finally said. “I would give up my career and move to wherever he wanted if it was the real thing, that forever love.”
“Why is it always the woman who has to give things up?” Dessie moaned.
“Not always, but more often than not.” Audrey got up. “That’s just the way it is, baby.”
Dessie let out a sad little laugh. “Yeah. I know.”
“I’m going out. You want to come for a walk in the mountains? It’s cold but nice.”
Dessie opened the magazine. “Thanks, but I want to read this and have another cup of tea. Just laze around for a bit, you know?”
“Good idea. See you later. Are you in for dinner?”
“Not sure yet, but I’ll let you know.”
“Great. See ya later.”
Just as the door slammed shut behind Audrey, Dessie’s phone beeped. It was a text message from Jules. Need to talk now!
Dessie gulped. This was it. Jules had found out. She punched in Jules’ number but only got her voicemail. Only one thing to do. Go over there and face the firing squad.
***
There was no firing squad, or even any sign of something brewing. Dessie found Jules mucking out the stables, the dogs lying in the straw, the radio playing a cheery song and Jules singing along out of tune.
She looked up when Dessie stuck her head into one of the loose boxes. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”
“No hunting today?”
“Nah, my hunter lost a shoe yesterday, and I couldn’t get the farrier out in time. Grab that shovel and gimme a hand, willya?”
Dessie shrank back from the smell of horse manure. “You want me to muck out?”
“Yeah. It’s not as if you haven’t done it before. Come on, don’t just stand there looking prissy. Or have you forgotten how?”
“Well, I...” Dessie grabbed the shovel, happy she had decided to wear wellies in case of rain. “Okay. I’ll show you I can do it.” She pushed the shovel into the pile of manure and straw and lifted it into the wheelbarrow. “There.”
“Great stuff.” Jules said, laughing. “Keep going. It’d be good if we could have all the stalls done before lunch.”
“How many are there?” Dessie grunted, lifting another shovel.
“Six left. I’ve done two already.” Jules turned the radio up. “We can sing while we work. Remember how we used to do that?”
“Yeah, when all I had was one pony to clean up after, not eight hunters.”
“Ah, come on, let’s do it together.” Jules started belting out “Mama Mia” along with Abba.
Dessie laughed and joined in. It would be okay. Jules couldn’t possibly know about Rory. It had to be something trivial, or did she just want help mucking out? “So, what was it you needed to talk about?” she asked as they washed up in the tack room.
Jules dried her hands on a rag. “Oh, it was about this woman. Awful gossip, but very observant.”
Dessie soaped her hands. “Yes?”
“Well, she...” Jules stopped. “None of my business, of course. You’re an adult and all that.”
Dessie glanced at Jules. “But...?”
“But she said she saw you at Mount Juliet with a man. An Englishman.” Jules coloured. “At first, she said it was Miranda, so I rang her up and accused her of having an affair. Shit, that was embarrassing. Jerry didn’t think much of that and gave me an awful roasting. So, of course, I thought the woman—her name is Susan Swift—was mistaken. But then she called me this morning and said she had seen the feature with you and Miranda in The Irish Times and realised she’d mixed you up.” Jules drew breath.
Dessie blinked. “Oh. Okay.”
Jules handed her the rag. “Here. Dry your hands.”
“Thanks.” Dessie dried her hands for a full minute while Jules looked at her expectantly.
“So...?” Jules finally said.
Dessie turned her head and looked at Jules coolly. “So?”
“Were you? At Mount Juliet? With a good-looking Englishman? Is it that Marcus guy who hunts with our pack?”
Dessie smiled mysteriously. “Wouldn’t you love to know?”
Jules sighed. “Yes, I would. Everyone in the hunt is swooning about him. I’d love to tell them my sister is dating him.”
“No, I’m not,” Dessie said, feeling it was the only true thing she had said since she arrived.
Jules looked confused. “Who was it, then?” Her face darkened. “He’s married? Is that it?”
“No. He’s not married.”
“In that case, what’s the problem?”
Suddenly, something snapped in Dessie. She sank down on a pile of straw and started to cry. “I can’t do this anymore,” she sobbed. “I can’t go on lying and hiding, I have to tell you.”
Jules stared at her. “Tell me what?”
“That the man that woman saw me with is...is Rory.” Dessie hid her face in her hands, unable to meet Jules’ shocked eyes. “I’m sorry, Jules. Really, really sorry. It just happened. We met out walking one day, and then we met again a couple of times, and all along, I tried my best not to fall in love with him. But I couldn’t stop myself. Or him. We’re in love, and I know this is it, it’s for keeps.” Dessie kept her eyes on the flags of the tack room floor while she rummaged in her pocket for a hanky.
Jules was silent while Dessie dabbed her eyes and blew her nose.
Dessie finally looked at her sister, who stared back at her with cold eyes. “Right, okay. Now I know. Thank you for telling me.”
“Are you upset?”
Jules eyes turned hard. “You’re damn right I’m bloody upset. You must have known Rory and I were...that well, we were getting close. Did he tell you that?”
“He said he likes you a lot, but that he didn’t feel...” Dessie stopped, trying to find words that would soften the blow. “He admires you. He thinks you’re very attractive. He said you had a great friendship going, but that’s all.”
Jules leaned against the rack of saddles and crossed her arms. “Yeah, right, bollocks. If he thought we were just friends, why all the sneaking around? A friend would tell another friend about falling in love. But he must have known there was something else there, something deeper, only waiting to happen, until you waltzed back into town and winked at him.”
“I didn’t wink at him,” Dessie protested.
Jules shrugged. “Yeah, well, whatever. So, now I know. Thanks for telling me. Now could you leave, please?”
Dessie got up and touched Jules’ arm. “Listen, I’m really sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose to hurt you. It just—”
“— happened, yeah I know. But I need to be alone. I can’t bear to look at you.”
Dessie shrank from Jules’ angry eyes. “Okay. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Jules nodded. “Maybe. But right now, I can’t.”
“That’s okay. I understand, I really do.”
“Good. I might talk to you about it one day. But that rat, Rory? I’ll never forgive him, the slimy bastard.”
***
“She called you a rat and a slimy bastard,” Dessie told Rory over a beer at the pub later that day.
Rory let out a sound between a groan and a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure she did. But you know what? I never said anything or made any sign that there was something more between us than friendship. It was all in her imagination. Yes, okay, we’ve seen each other a lot, and she cooked me dinner and did her hair and put on make-up. Made her look a hell of a lot more attractive, I have to say. She’s a good-looking woman, but you can’t manufacture chemistry between two people. It’s either there or it isn’t.”
Dessie nodded. “I know. But Jules seems to think there was chemistry between you two.”
Rory sighed and drained his pint. “Yes, I knew that. It scared me. I wanted to tell her, but then I thought, maybe I could fall for her if we spent enough time together. But it didn’t happen, and then I met you.” He drew breath. “But I’m glad she knows. Brave of you to tell her.”
Dessie sighed. “No, not brave at all. It just came out when Jules was pressing me for information. I couldn’t stand lying and sneaking around anymore.” She looked at her hands then back at Rory. “This doesn’t mean we can now gallop around town hand in hand and show everyone we’re together.”
Rory frowned. “Why? What are you talking about? She knows, so where’s the problem?”
“The ‘problem,’ as you call it, is that if we go around like a courting couple, Jules will look like a big loser, and I will be that slut who stole her sister’s man—twice.”
Rory nodded, looking glum. “I suppose you’re right.” He lifted his empty glass to the waiter at the bar, who nodded. “You want another beer, love?”
Dessie finished the last drops of her bottle of Harp. “No thanks.” She got up. “I think I’d better leave. This place will be filling up soon. Don’t want to start any rumours.” She suddenly giggled despite herself. “Right now, the talk of the town is I’m having an affair with a sexy Englishman called Rupert.”
Rory smirked. “Let’s try to keep that going, then.”
“Good idea.”
Rory put his hand on Dessie’s arm when she was about to leave. “But we can still smooch in private, can’t we?”
Dessie winked. “You bet we can. But it has to be very, very private.”
“No more sleazy hotels,” Rory grunted.
“You have a better idea?”
“Yes, I do.” He paused while the waiter put a fresh pint of beer on the table.
“Where?” Dessie asked when the coast was clear.
“My place,” Rory whispered.
Dessie laughed. “Of course! We’ve avoided that because it’s so close to Jules’ place. But now that she knows...” She looked over her shoulder as a group of customers walked in. “I’m leaving. Let me know when.” She winked and walked swiftly out of the pub.