‘This time let’s have a smaller, more personal wedding.’ Amy smiled as she lay curled up in Dan’s arms. ‘Let’s keep it simple, so it’s just about us getting married and making our vows to each other and celebrating with the people we care about.’
‘The two of us in flip-flops on a faraway beach,’ he teased.
‘Tempting.’ She giggled. ‘But since Dad’s operation I’d be worried about him being stuck out in some hot place, with no decent hospital. Besides I really want Granny to be there. She’s says she’s too old to fly!’
‘Don’t worry,’ he agreed, kissing her shoulder. ‘Sheila will be there. Anyway, I don’t think we should be asking our friends and family to shell out a thousand euros, and waste their holiday time, just to come and see us getting hitched beside a swimming pool in some fancy hotel or castle in Spain or France. We’ve all been there, done that, and certainly don’t need to do it again!’
‘Dan, it would be nice to get married in St Mary’s, our local church, and have the reception fairly near by.’
‘That sounds good.’ He smiled, kissing her. ‘Do you remember that awful B & B in Donegal we had to stay in, when we went to Sarah and Tom’s wedding? Our room smelled of sick,’ he reminded her.
‘Just as well we were drunk when we came back to it, or we’d never have slept the night. It was disgusting!’
‘We need some place pretty close to home, with good food and a bar, where we can chill and have a party with everyone.’
‘A garden or nice views would be lovely,’ she added. ‘Do you think we should go for a restaurant? Or maybe even a small hotel?’
‘I’m not traipsing the countryside again looking,’ he warned sternly.
‘I know that,’ she said, kissing him. ‘This time we are keeping it simple.’
Dan and she drew up a map of places that were approximately an hour or so from Dublin. Amy phoned a number of them to discover that they were booked out totally until the autumn of next year, and to her dismay found that they were left with a country house, a modern hotel with a golf course, and a quaint inn with a really good restaurant.
‘Please, Dan, can we go and check them out this weekend?’ she begged.
Tully House looked good in photos, but up close was pretty rundown and ramshackle. All the weekend dates were gone until April next year, and looking at the shabby paintwork and upholstery Amy and Dan immediately said no.
The Carrick Ross Hotel and Golf Club had no Friday or Saturday available during the busy golf season, but could cater for a mid-week or a winter wedding. The hotel was modern and bright, with a fairly nice function room overlooking the golf course. Amy could feel a growing sense of panic and déjà vu. Then, as they drove along the road from Wicklow Town on their way to the Inn, Amy saw the sign for Glebe House.
‘Let’s stop in there for a drink or something to eat,’ she suggested.
‘Is it on “the list”?’ puzzled Dan.
‘No, they don’t do weddings. But it’s the place Mum and Dad love to escape to,’ she reminded him. ‘Ciara and Ronan and I stayed here twice when we were kids. I remember they had a little pontoon on the lake and Ronan caught a huge fish. He nearly fell into the water.’
Amy had forgotten how nice Glebe House was. She could see a lot of work had gone into painting and restoring it, and the gardens looked amazing. Dan and she found the bright airy drawing room and studied the menu. There was a good selection of afternoon tea, sandwiches, soup and crusty bread, a fresh salmon plate or prawns.
‘I’ll go for the prawns,’ Dan said happily.
Amy opted for the same, and they went out through the French doors and found a small table outside in the sunshine, overlooking the gardens.
‘Is everything all right with your meal, or do you need something else?’ checked the young woman serving them politely, as they tucked into a huge plate of prawns and salad with fresh home-baked brown bread.
‘Thanks, it’s perfect.’ Amy smiled.
‘No wonder Paddy and Helen love it here,’ joked Dan, tucking in. ‘I can only imagine how good dinner must be.’
‘Paddy and Helen?’ The waitress looked at them inquisitively.
‘My parents,’ explained Amy. ‘The O’Connors from Blackrock. They come here a lot.’
‘How are they?’ asked the young woman, introducing herself as Trudy Hanlon, the owner’s daughter.
‘Actually, my dad hasn’t been well. He’s had bypass surgery,’ Amy explained.
Trudy was all concern for Paddy and Helen, and Amy found herself telling the sorry saga of Paddy’s illness and her broken engagement and the renewed hunt now for a suitable venue. ‘I know what it’s like.’ Trudy smiled sympathetically. ‘I only got married three years ago myself.’
‘Did you have it locally?’ asked Amy.
‘Actually . . .’ Trudy hesitated. ‘We had the wedding here and it was just perfect.’
‘Here?’
‘My mum insisted,’ laughed Trudy. ‘Have to be loyal to the family firm.’
‘Lucky you,’ Amy said enviously. ‘It’s so lovely here. I didn’t know that you did weddings.’
‘We don’t normally,’ confided Trudy. ‘The dining room can only cater for about seventy guests, which is a bit small. We leave that kind of catering to the bigger hotels.’
An hour later they had walked around the small lawn and courtyard of the Drumlee Inn, near Wicklow, both of them disappointed by the inn’s time-warp appearance, complete with Toby jugs and fire irons and copper pans. It was obviously geared towards its elderly regulars, and the menu was pure nursery-style with roast lamb, pork chops, rice pudding and bread and butter pudding a feature.
‘It’s quaint, and I know that it has a good reputation,’ Amy declared as they had a coffee, ‘but even Gran would think it’s too old for her!’
‘Why don’t we go back to Glebe House and check it out for dinner?’ suggested Dan, much to her surprise.
After booking in for dinner they both had a good walk around the grounds.
Amy was relieved to see the little pontoon was still there, and that a new jetty with fairy lights had been added, with a few places to sit and relax. The garden was overrun with colour, and the place was so peaceful.
‘It’s pretty special here,’ said Dan, thinking aloud. ‘There aren’t many places like this.’
‘It’s lovely. I had forgotten how beautiful it was.’
‘Great place for a wedding,’ said Dan.
‘But you heard Trudy! They don’t do weddings, and the dining room can only hold seventy.’
‘I’d prefer to have seventy people here than a hundred in the Carrick Ross or the Drumlee Inn or some fancy restaurant in town.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah. I think we should talk to someone about it once we’ve tested the dinner menu.’
The food was so good and the atmosphere perfect. Amy agreed with Dan: it would be great to have their wedding here. There was a fabulous view of the small lake and the grounds from the bay windows of the dining room; she could see blowsy pink rambling roses and lavender bushes swaying in the soft breeze.
Trudy, who was still on duty, came down to say hello to them again, her eyes widening when they asked if they could talk to someone about the possibility of holding their wedding at Glebe House.
‘I think my mum might be in the kitchen’, Trudy said. ‘I’ll tell her.’
They had finished dinner and were sitting having coffee in the lounge when Eve Hanlon appeared and sat down beside them.
‘I’m sure my daughter Trudy told you that generally we don’t do weddings. We don’t need to.’
Amy’s hopes plummeted.
‘But Paddy and Helen are old customers, and if it was just a small family wedding on a Friday later in the summer, when things have quietened down, we might just be able to manage it.’
‘Oh, that would be wonderful!’ Amy almost jumped out of her seat and hugged Eve, and she could see Dan’s eyes shining.
‘I’ll have to check our bookings to see if we could give you the dining room and a reception room around September,’ Eve continued. ‘I’m busy now, but I will check it all out tomorrow and contact you, if that is all right.’
‘Oh, Mrs Hanlon, we would be so grateful!’ thanked Amy. ‘We’d really love to have our wedding here. The place is perfect: just what we are looking for.’
‘I’ll come back to you,’ she promised. ‘Remember to give my good wishes to your mum and dad.’
‘Do you think the search is over?’ mused Dan as they drove back in the darkness to Dublin.
‘I’m not sure.’ Amy didn’t want to get her hopes too high. Glebe House was one of those places that were always busy at weekends, all year round. It could well be booked up. They would just have to wait and see what Eve Hanlon said.