“Oh, that was Luke!” Liz told her on the phone the following morning, when Tara mentioned the encounter. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”
Well, Tara wouldn’t say that exactly. Yes, she supposed there was something attractive about those muscled, hardy-looking, outdoorsy types, but brawn had never been her thing. No, Tara had always been attracted to dark, brooding, creative types and wouldn’t normally look twice at someone like that.
“I was too embarrassed to take any notice,” she told Liz breezily. “I really wish you’d told me there was somebody living there, though. The place looks just as abandoned as it was when I was growing up, so I’d no idea –”
“To be honest,I’d no idea he’d be moving in so soon,” her friend replied. “He’s abroad a lot – I think he works in different countries out on oil rigs or that type of thing. Last time I bumped into him, he said he had a long stint coming up and wouldn’t be back until after Christmas. That was just after he bought the house.”
“Well, he’s definitely here now,” Tara said with a sigh, “and Bruno gave him a lovely welcome.”
“Didn’t I tell you to be firm with that fella? Otherwise he’d walk all over you.”
“Tell me about it,” Tara groaned.
“Listen, I’d better go – Eric and I are just heading over to the house now. Will you give Toby my love and tell him Mummy and Daddy were asking for him?”
“Of course, I will.” Tara rolled her eyes good-naturedly. This was the third time Liz had asked her to pass on such a message to Toby.
“And thanks again for looking after him – I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. How’s it all going there anyway? Did you two get any time on your own?” Then she added, “Or can’t you say anything at the moment?”
“Not really,” her friend replied quietly, and Tara understood that Eric must be in the room with her. She really hoped that, despite the circumstances, some good might come out of their time away.
“Well then, say hi to Eric and Maeve for me, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow afternoon.”
“You too. And tell Toby I –”
“Yes, Liz – I’ll tell Toby you and his daddy were asking for him. Take care.”
Smiling, Tara replaced the cordless phone in the receiver and went back into the living room where Toby was playing happily on the floor with his toys.
She checked the clock on the mantelpiece and groaned. It was almost eleven – time to bring those mental-cases for another trek in the fields. Tara almost felt as though she were preparing herself for battle as she fetched their leads and went to let them out of their kennels, the dogs leaping about excitedly upon her approach.
An hour or so later, she, Toby and the dogs returned to the house. The animals had been much better behaved this morning, or perhaps she was getting better at handling them, she wasn’t sure. Then, as soon as they were all safely inside their kennels, she went inside and began preparing Toby’s lunch.
“This is quite good fun, isn’t it, Toby?” she said, as she rummaged through the fridge for something to make, Toby sitting quietly in his highchair as he watched her move around. He was a dream to look after, really, she thought, deciding that while he was the image of his father, he had definitely been blessed with Liz’s temperament. Her friend was so calm, so docile and unassuming, which were mostly lovely traits but could often work to her own detriment. She had urged Liz to use this weekend to find out what exactly was going wrong in her marriage, but she doubted very much that her friend would confront Eric. Liz hated confrontation and –
Hearing a loud roar from outside, Tara stopped short. Blast it – was one of the dogs due to leave today? No, that couldn’t be it, and even if that was the case, it was highly unlikely the dog’s owner would be shouting his head off outside the door, wasn’t it?
Then, she thought of something. Oh, God, had one of the animals escaped from its pen – maybe got out and bit someone?
Tara rushed to the back door. “Stay right there,” she told Toby, although there was little chance of the baby going anywhere strapped like that into his high chair. “Aunty Tara has to go outside and check on the doggies, OK?”
Toby giggled and clapped his hands excitedly at the mention of the word “doggies”, no doubt thinking he was due another outing in the fields. Fat chance of that, she thought wryly.
Going outside, Tara headed straight for the kennels, Ben and Jerry circling around her feet. As she drew closer, she saw that littles and large were still in their individual holding pens and, amazingly, all three were fast asleep. Thank God for that!
She turned away and was just about to go back inside the house when she heard someone curse loudly.
“Stupid friggin’ things!” a man’s voice hissed.
Following the direction from which the voice had come, Tara went towards the adjoining house. As she did, she spotted muscleman Luke standing outside his own back door, his face red and his fists clenched tightly.
“Is everything OK?” Tara called across to him. “I heard someone shout.”
“Everything’s fine,” he replied, through gritted teeth. “I just have a couple of unwelcome visitors.”
“Oh.” Someone must have dropped by unannounced, she decided. Her own mother hated that too, hated people calling to visit when the house was in a state, so in a way she understood how he felt. Still, the cottage hadn’t been lived in for years and was bound to be less than perfect, and it seemed a bit rude of Luke to go running out of the house screaming about it.
“Do you think you could get rid of them?” Tara heard him ask then, his tone softer and a little hesitant.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, do they bother you? Are you afraid of them?”
“Well,” Tara wasn’t sure how to answer that. Why the hell would people visiting his house bother her? “I’m not sure if . . .”
“I hate the little fuckers, always have. It’s embarrassing but . . .”
Oh, now Tara got it. Whoever his guests were, they must have brought children with them, and evidently Luke wasn’t a fan – to say the least. Glenn could be a bit like that too and would often run a mile whenever Liz or any of her other friends brought their offspring to their house. Though if Glenn were to express himself in such a horribly violent way, she would have something to say about it. In such an unbalanced way . . . Tara began to feel a bit nervous. Was he quite sane?
And how he expected Tara to deal with these people on his behalf when she didn’t even know him was beyond her . . .
“I think they’re under the sink,” he added then, confirming for Tara that he really wasn’t the full shilling.
Under the sink?
“I opened the door, and two of them ran straight out,” he informed her, grimacing. “One of them ran right over my hand! Jesus, I can still see his bloody tail!”
Tail? But right then it hit her and she understood exactly who, or rather what, had paid Luke a visit. She tried to smother a laugh.
“Mice?” she clarified, her eyes widening in mirth. “You’re afraid of tiny, harmless, little mice?”
Luke’s expression paled at the mention of the word. “Rub it in, why don’t you? I know the place is old, but I thought it was so old that the little fuckers wouldn’t be bothered with it.” He shook his head. “There could be hundreds in there for all I know.”
“Oh, for goodness sake!” Tara was still struggling to keep a straight face. “Imagine someone your size being afraid of a tiny, harmless little animal like that!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I can’t help it, OK? It’s just something that’s in me and I can’t help it. Some people are afraid of heights, others of spiders. Me, I’m afraid of mice.”
He said this in such a way that Tara knew it was killing him to have to admit it, especially in front of a woman.
“So do you think you could . . . you know . . . go in and take a look around? See where they went?”
Tara was laughing openly now, but felt almost guilty when she saw his petrified expression. This really was killing him. “OK, then. But let me get Toby first – I left him inside on his own when I came outside to investigate all the noise you were making.”
Luke looked sheepish and, still smiling, Tara quickly went back inside to Toby, who was chattering happily away to himself and totally out of harm’s way.
“Sorry about this, pet,” Tara told him as she lifted him out of the chair and strapped him into his buggy, “but the scaredy cat next door needs our help.”
“Ca!” Toby pointed out happily, as the two of them passed the cattery on their way through the garden to Luke’s house.
Leaving Luke to keep an eye on Toby (or indeed the other way round) Tara was in and out of the place within a few minutes, having opened and closed all the old cupboards and checked in various nooks and crannies, but there were no “visitors” to be seen.
“I know you think this is hilarious, and I don’t blame you,” Luke said, when Tara eventually reappeared outside, “but I can’t help it. My mother used to freak whenever one appeared in our house when I was younger, so I suppose I’ve carried the fear since then.” He shrugged. “Stupid I know but . . .”
Tara was sorely tempted to keep teasing, but a look at his mortified expression told her it was unfair to embarrass him any further. “Like you said, it’s a genuine fear and most of us have them.”
“It’s stupid,” he insisted and Tara suspected he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “I know they’re only tiny, but . . .” he winced again, “those bloody tails!”
“Well, they seem to have gone into hiding now. But I doubt that’s the last you’ll see of them so you really should think about setting down traps.”
“Ugh!” Luke shuddered.
“Well, if you’re not up to it, you’ll have to get somebody else in to do it. The place has been vacant for so long now, I’m surprised it isn’t ten times worse than it is,” she added thoughtfully.
“You know the place?”
“Yep. I grew up here in the village – and me and my friends used to come up here when we were teenagers to drink and chat and . . . you know.”
Luke smiled. “Right.”
“That’s why I got such a fright the other day. Nobody’s lived there for so long that I just assumed –”
“I know. And I still feel bad for shouting at you. But to be honest, the renovation work is not going as well as I’d thought.” He rolled his eyes. “Those bloody TV programmes make it all look so easy.”
“True,” Tara laughed. “In twenty-four hours, you can make your rundown cottage into a show-house mansion! It’s not quite the same when you get down and dirty with it, is it? Although in fairness, I’d love to have a house of my own to decorate. The one we’re in now is rented. But it’ll be a long time before I can afford to get any house in Dublin, let alone one I can restore to its former glory.”
“Oh, you don’t live in the village any more?”
“No, I’m just looking after the place for Liz. Oh, and speaking of looking after the place, I’d better go – this little fella will be needing his lunch soon.”
“Well, look, thanks a million . . . um . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know your –”
“It’s Tara.”
“Tara. I owe you a cuppa, only I don’t even have a kettle in there yet. Speaking of which, can you recommend anywhere in the village for food? I was in that coffee shop yesterday, but they do all this organic muck, and I’m not really into –”
“Why don’t you come back next door with me?” The words were out before she realised it. “I was just having lunch anyway. I could do you a fry-up or an omelette or something.”
“Are you sure? I’d love that, but I really don’t want to impose.”
“Don’t be silly. After the shock you’ve had, you need a strong cup of tea,” she added mischievously.
“I won’t argue with that,” Luke said, his form greatly improved as he closed the back door of his cottage behind him. “And I’d kill for a decent cuppa. Those choco-mocco things they serve in that café taste like shaggin’ dishwater!”