Some days after, Steve rang Zoe with an update on how Dave was doing. He told her how it was like having a small baby in the house and that now he knew what new parents were talking about when they complained about sleepless nights. He had tucked Dave up in a basket with a hot-water bottle wrapped in a blanket but he could still hear him whimpering from the kitchen. He didn’t have the heart to leave him like that so he had ended up taking him into his bed. The toilet training was also a bit hit-and-miss but all in all they were getting on well. Then nervously he asked her if she wanted to meet up at the weekend to see Dave.
“You can try some of my pâté and tell me what you think?” he added.
“Sure,” Zoe agreed while thinking in her head again how strange the whole situation was. But after she had hung up the phone and was thinking about him, she found herself wanting to see him. His personality was infectious, being around him made you feel good about yourself. He had a natural way with people and he was charming without being smarmy. He was easy-going too, like nothing would ever faze him. He had a funny way about him – you couldn’t not like him.
Over dinner the next evening she told Emma the whole story about Dave being thrown out of a car window, their trip to the vet and their dinner afterwards. Emma had been amazed by the irony of meeting someone in the street.
“He must like you,” Emma said.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, he wouldn’t be asking you to meet up again at the weekend if he wasn’t interested.”
“I’m not sure, Emma. I’d say he’s the kind of person that would be like that with everyone he meets, y’know.”
“Are you going to go?”
“I think so – I know it sounds mad but he seems like a genuine sort.”
“Well, who knows where it could lead.”
Zoe laughed.
* * *
Zoe set off on Saturday morning with the directions that Steve had given her. She turned off the main road onto a narrow winding back road with only room for the width of one car. She could see the sea in the distance with foamy white waves topping it. The land rose up as she drove down the winding roads which weaved through the stone-walled fields. The place was so remote she hadn’t passed a house for miles. Not for the first time, she began to doubt herself: what was she doing going driving out into the middle of nowhere to meet up with a man she had only met for the first time last week? She pulled over into a gateway at the side of the road and rang Steve.
“Hi there, are you on your way?” His voice was friendly and instantly she felt better.
“Well, I think I might be a bit lost – I followed the directions you gave me but it just seems a bit . . . remote?”
“Oh, people always think they’ve gone wrong – but keep following the road straight until the headland dips down to the sea and you’ll see a turn up to the right, with my sign on it.”
“Okay, well, I don’t think I’m too far away then.”
“Great, I’ll put the kettle on so.”
She pulled out in her car again and continued along the road. It really was beautiful out here, so quiet and peaceful. Living in the city she often forgot just how loud and in your face it could be. She finally saw a swinging sign for ‘McCredden’s Artisan Foods’ and she turned up an impossibly narrow track that had grass growing up the middle. Finally, a whitewashed cottage with small blue-painted windows came into view on the headland. When she looked down to the right she could see the sun glistening off the calm sea beneath her. It was amazing. She swung into the gravel driveway and Steve came out of the door to greet her.
“You found me okay, then?” he said, grinning at her.
“Just about,” she smiled back.
“Come on in. Dave is dying to see you.”
Zoe noted that he was dressed even more casually today – he was wearing jeans and a pair of green Hunter Wellington boots and the wax jacket was now replaced with a fleece, under which he wore a red check shirt. His blue eyes twinkled as he spoke and his dark hair was long but it suited him like that. His skin had a shadow of stubble. She had to admit he looked quite handsome, in a rugged kind of way.
Zoe walked into the country kitchen. Pots of herbs were scattered randomly on the windowsills, with jugs of wild flowers decorating the place. There was a big farmhouse table with mismatched chairs.
Dave was curled up in his basket in front of an Aga on which a kettle was boiling. When she stroked his ears, he opened up his brown eyes and wagged his tail. She was amazed to see how much he had grown. She had brought him some doggy treats and a red collar with his name on it. She played with him while he tried to nip her fingers with his razor-sharp teeth. As Steve recounted his antics during the week, she could tell that he had already grown very attached to him.
“Ah, the kettle is boiled.” Steve made tea in a blue-and-white teapot and then left it to draw while he laid out a loaf of rustic bread and an earthenware dish of his homemade pâté.
He poured two mugs of tea – one mug was spotty and the other had a picture of a pig.
“Spots or pig?” he asked, holding up both mugs.
“Erm – oh, go on, I’ll go for the pig!” she laughed. She sat at the table while Dave snuggled blissfully in her arms.
He sawed through the loaf of rustic bread and served it to her spread thickly with his pâté.
She picked up the thick crusted bread and bit a piece off.
“Well?” he asked after she had chewed the mouthful.
“You made this yourself?” Zoe said.
“Of course!”
“It tastes really good . . . mmmm . . .” She chewed some more. “It’s completely different to the supermarket brands.”
“That’s because I only use locally sourced ingredients – everything I use comes from the farmers around here.” He gestured in a circular motion.
When she had finished that, he took out a grey slate cheeseboard with a selection of smoked cheeses that he had cured himself and a small bowl of pitted olives for her to nibble on. She loved everything and made sure he knew it.
After lunch they strolled along the deserted beach, with Steve carrying Dave in his arms. She was amazed they had so much to talk about.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked.
“I bought it a few years back – I always used to come walking down here at the weekends when I was working in the bank up in Dublin.”
“You used to work in a bank?” Zoe was genuinely shocked. He looked nothing like the slick banker types with their polished shoes and tailored suits.
“Uh-huh,” he nodded. “But I got tired of the rat race. I was sick of losing sleep over shareholder dividends and hedge funds – I wanted to do something I enjoyed. I’m a great believer in the saying ‘Do a job you love and you’ll never do a day’s work in your life’ so that’s what I did.”
“What, you just handed in your notice and moved out here?”
“Well, not quite as dramatic as that – I had always loved food and cooking. My mother was a great one for the family dinners when we were growing up. And as I grew up on a farm I loved how everything grown on the land had a use. So I got the idea of starting my own small business. I started small, just making some chutneys and jams first and selling them on the weekends while I still worked in the bank during the week. But I got a great reaction so I began adding more produce, bread and scones and then the pâté and it just grew from there. So two years ago, I decided to take the plunge. I handed in my notice to the bank, put my apartment in the IFSC up for sale and started looking around for somewhere to live. One day I was walking down here and looked up at the derelict cottage and thought it was a beautiful setting, out on its own like that with nobody next or near you. But you should have seen the state of it! There were holes in the roof and grass growing out of the chimney! So I approached the farmer whose land it was on and he agreed to sell it to me but even the solicitor told me not to buy it, it was that rundown. I’ve spent the last few years doing it up in bits and pieces – I love that pottering around doing jobs, planning what project I’ll take on next. Last year I extended the kitchen – that’s where I make all my produce and I’ve sown a herb garden and vegetable patch.”
“It really is the most amazing place I’ve ever seen. Dave is going to love exploring all around here when his leg is mended.”
When they walked back up the dunes to the house, Steve put a snoozing Dave into his basket beside the Aga.
“C’mon till I show you the rest of the place.”
He led her around the cosy rooms, all simply decorated with wooden floorboards and cream-painted walls. The bedrooms had cast-iron beds and small wooden dressing-tables.
After he had stuffed her with more of his food and chatted some more, Zoe reluctantly said her goodbyes. It was getting dark out and she didn’t want to get lost on these roads with no signposts.
As soon as she had pulled out of his laneway, she knew she was seriously starting to like him but she really didn’t want that to happen. As soon as she opened herself up to people, things never went her way. So she tried to tell herself to stop getting her hopes up. It was all just for Dave anyway. Plus he was so different to her usual type. Normally she went for the on-trend men, usually creative types from the fashion industry or the Dublin art scene. It wasn’t that she chose these men – rather, because of her job, it meant these were normally the type she socialised with. But Steve was the antithesis of them. When she had first met him he had been wearing cords and a bottle-green wax jacket; she could no more imagine any of her exes in that get-up than she could imagine herself running a marathon. All her exes either had smooth baby’s-bottom cheeks or carefully maintained designer stubble, but Steve looked as though he didn’t shave from one end of the week to the next. He was what you might describe as a ‘man’s man’, rough and ready. She knew he would also probably wrap you in his strong arms and hold you tight against his chest all night.
She dialled Emma’s number.
“Well, is he a psycho killer?” Emma asked.
“No!” Zoe laughed. “Oh Emma, he’s great – the more I get to know him the more I know I’m falling for him. I’m so scared though.”
“Of what?”
“The unknown . . . letting go . . . seeing where life takes me . . .”
“Zoe, you have to let your guard down sometime,” Emma said gently.
“I know, Em, I know.”
* * *
On Sunday morning, Zoe’s phone buzzed on her bedside locker. Sleepily she picked it up and saw it was Steve. She quickly answered it.
“Hello?”
“Good morning to you, Zoe.”
Even the way he said good morning was full of infectious cheer.
“Morning, Steve. How’s Dave?”
“He’s doing great altogether – but he’s getting a bit fond of my bed now.”
Zoe laughed.
“I’m just ringing to check that you got home all right last night but I’m guessing you did?”
“Uh-huh, it’s actually a lot closer to the city than I had thought but yet it feels like you’re on the edge of the world out there.”
“That’s the beauty of it. Look, Zoe, I hope you don’t mind but I was also calling to ask you something. Now tell me if you think I’m being a bit presumptuous but – well, I was wondering – well, y’see, there’s this ball on – Irish Food Producers Association – it’s an annual thing. Now I hate the bloody thing but, well, I was wondering if you would like to accompany me?”
“I would love that.”
“Oh, thank God!” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I was worried the only reason you stayed in contact was because of Dave.”
Zoe was taken aback by his honesty. “I actually thought you were doing the same thing!” she said, laughing. “When is it on?”
“This Friday.”
“This Friday! Talk about short notice. I’ll have to get a gúna sorted!”
“I know, I’m sorry. It’s black-tie too. I wasn’t even going to go this year and then, I thought, well . . . I thought it would be nice to go together.”
“I’d like that.”
“It’s in Dublin anyway so you won’t have to go too far – I have a friend who will look after Dave for me so at least he’s sorted. If I pick you up about eight, is that okay?”
“I look forward to it.”
Zoe lay back on the pillow and smiled. She felt like a giddy teenager. He had said he liked her. He really liked her back and not just because of Dave. She would make sure she looked fantastic on Friday so that he would be glad he brought her. She would need to call around to Emma and see if she had any great dresses – she used to be always going to weddings and fancy black-tie things so she should have something. She couldn’t imagine him in a tux though. She tried to picture him but nothing was coming. She wanted to jump up and down and scream.