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Aisling pushed open the swinging doors and was assailed with a deliciously rich waft of meats and vegetables simmering away inside the frenetic kitchen. Quinn was over by the gas hobs, his head down in conversation with the sous-chef as they discussed whatever it was bubbling in one of the many pots being tended to. His blonde hair was just visible beneath his hat. The sous-chef spotted her first, giving Quinn a nudge.
His face she saw was flushed from the steam and he needed a shave which she’d be sure to tell him, but it was nice that his blue eyes lit up at the sight of her. ‘Aisling! How’s the form?’ He wiped his hands on his chequered pants before striding over to wrap her in a hello hug. She hugged him back just as warmly.
‘Grand,’ she lied. ‘It’s a bad time to call I know, right on lunchtime. I don’t know what I was thinking other than I fancied a bit of air. I had to make a reservation for some guests and pick up more of these so that’s my excuse.’ She held up the pamphlets. She wouldn’t mention having seen Marcus from afar less than fifteen minutes ago, she knew Quinn’s opinion of him and it wasn’t high. Come to think of it, it hadn’t exactly been glowing before Marcus had jilted her. The feeling between the two men was mutual and she’d never figured out why. Neither had said anything but she could tell by their macho posturing when they were in one another’s company.
‘How’s your mam getting on?’ she asked. Mrs Doherty had suffered a stroke a month back. Aisling had dropped a bunch of flowers around a few weeks ago. It had been a shock to see her looking frail and well old, especially when she’d always been so sprightly. She hoped given time, she would get back to how she was before it happened.
He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. ‘Alright. She’s definitely slowed down, and she gets frustrated you know, having to rely on me or Dad to take her everywhere. The doctor’s not given her the all clear to drive yet.’
‘Give her my love, won’t you?’
‘I will do. And what about your mam—is she enjoying being by the sea?’
It was a sign they were getting older Aisling thought, them asking after each other’s
mammy’s like so. There was a time it didn’t seem all that long ago, they’d have been moaning how banjaxed they were after Thursday night’s rave up.
‘Ah, she loves it Quinn. I swear everything in her wardrobe is nautical stripes these days, and she’s even taken to wearing boat shoes. I never thought I’d see my mammy in flats. Fair play to her she’d look a bit odd in her striped tops and white pants with a pair like this on her feet.’ She gestured to her impractical footwear.
‘The thing is she’s never even been on a boat other than the Dún Laoghaire to Holyhead ferry. Mind you I’ve heard her making noises about sailing lessons so, it’s only a matter of time.’ Aisling shook her head. ‘She’s gone a bit mad taking up art classes and joining everything from the golf club to bowls. Oh, and she’s on about the yacht club too now. She’s managed to slot Moira and me into her busy calendar for lunch tomorrow.’
Quinn smiled gently. ‘She’s a good woman your mam, and to be fair now she nursed your poor dad until the end. Losing someone you expected to spend your retirement with would change your perspective on things. I expect she needs to keep herself busy.’
‘When did you get so wise?’ Aisling’s eyes prickled unexpectedly with tears and she blinked them away. She didn’t want to stand here snivelling in Quinn’s busy kitchen but Dad’s death, even though it had been a blessed relief when the time came was still raw and the pain snuck up on her when she least expected it. For Mammy to have grabbed life by the horns with quite as much vigour as she had was a shock too. She’d no desire to spend the rest of her days mouldering in O’Mara’s with her memories she’d said. Then she’d signed on the dotted line for a modern two-bedroom apartment with views out over Howth Harbour.
‘I don’t know about wise,’ Quinn said, his eyes flicking over to the kitchen hand who was taking advantage of his boss being occupied, to check his mobile phone instead of cracking on with the chopping of vegetables. ‘Observant maybe.’
‘You’re that alright, you never did miss much. Remember when you told me that Diarmud and Orla from our old college gang had the hots for each other?’
He nodded.
‘And I said you needed your eyes checking because Orla fancied Diarmud about as much as I liked Bono.’ Aisling could never understand what all the fuss was about where the Irish rocker was concerned. It was something she’d been verbal about after a few pints of Guinness from time to time.
‘And now they’re married.’
‘With four children, no less.’
They both laughed.
Paula pushed past calling out an order.
‘Does your dinner on the house offer still stand? Because I’m due to catch up with Leila and I was eyeing the slow cooked Guinness and beef stew on the board out the front before I came in.’
‘Of course! Let me know a time, and I’ll make sure we’ve got a table.’
‘Thanks Quinn and you’ll join I us I hope,’ she said before adding, ‘It’d be good to sit down and have a proper natter. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.’
‘I’d like that. Its’ been too long since we three had a catch up. It was good to see you Aisling. Take care now. Remember me to your mam too.’
‘And me to yours. Oh, and Quinn—,’
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘Be sure and have a shave tonight won’t you?’
‘What? Are you not keen on my rugged Brad Pitt, Fight Club look? All the girls love him.’
‘You’re more a Ronan Keating type than Brad Pitt.’
‘Ah well, the girls love him too.’
Aisling grinned, there was a time when she’d been smitten with Quinn Moran back in their college days. She still had a soft spot for him, it was something she’d learned to live with because he’d never looked at her in that way. She never let on how she felt for fear of ruining their friendship. Then she’d gone abroad for work needing to put some space between him and her mixed-up feelings. All of that was a lifetime ago, ancient history. ‘Bronagh, sends her best. And remember to shave!’ She mimicked shaving her jawline before turning and exiting out the swinging doors.
Aisling waved goodbye to Alasdair. She had to laugh hearing him tell a snappily dressed customer that he was sure they’d met each other before, when they’d both been gentry landowners in the seventeenth century.
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Quinn watched Aisling leave, a wistful look on his face. Despite his swagger, there was only one girl he wanted to love him, but it had never occurred to her to look at him in that way. His love for Aisling had been a slow burn on his part. He’d been aware she was gorgeous but still their relationship had begun platonically with a friendship formed at college. They got around in the same group and all had a great craic together. Then the realisation had hit one night as they neared graduation, somewhere along the way his feelings had taken root and grown into something deeper.
It was a million little things, like the way she tossed her head back and laughed, the slight dimpling in her cheek when she smiled. The sparkle in her eyes when she told a story or the way she’d leap off her stool to do the actions whenever the Macarena came on.
He could have said something back then on one of their many nights out, but he was scared. If she didn’t feel the same way, he’d lose her friendship because there’d be no going back to the way things were once he’d crossed that line. So he said nothing.
‘Quinn, the water’s boiling away on the potatoes.’
He jerked out of his reverie and did what he always did after he’d seen Aisling, threw himself back into his work.