Unforgettable Embrace (19 page)

"What's the name of this area anyway?" she asked. "This is Bangor, Erris," he said. "There's a few things to see around here as well. The Ceide Fields is the most historic site in these parts. You know they were only discovered in the 1930s when Patrick Caulfield, a local farmer, was digging in the bog he noticed a heap of stones buried beneath it.

His son, Seamus, was inspired by his father's story of the discovery to become an archaeologist, and in the 1970s he began extensive exploration of the area. Seamus and his team uncovered the world's largest Stone Age monument, consisting of stone-walled fields, houses and megalithic tombs. Can you believe they discovered such an important site right here in sleepy little Bangor? Archaeologists estimated that approximately five millennia ago a thriving farming community existed here, growing crops and grazing animals."

"Wow, sounds very impressive," Rachel enthused. "There's an impressive Interpretive Centre there as well, I think admission is about €3.50 for adults, but I'm not sure if they're open at this time of the year."

"It sounds like it might be worth a trip up
there anyway," she agreed.

"Oh, definitely," Batt said, "there are breathtaking views from the cliffs overlooking the ocean."

"So is there anywhere you could recommend I park my campervan for the night?" Rachel asked Batt. "I don't know the area at all and I don't particularly want to stay here, parked at the side of the road."

"Well, I own a farm just a few miles up the road, you're more than welcome to park in the drive if you'd like," Batt offered.

"Are you sure you wouldn't mind?" Rachel asked a little hesitantly.

"Not at all," he smiled at her, "sure I'd love the company, up there in the old farmhouse all by myself. I might even cook a bit of dinner if you're hungry."

"That's very kind of you, thank you so much."

"Right, that's sorted then. I just need to pop into the supermarket real quick and then you can follow me to the farm."

"Sounds like a plan."

It turned out that the village of Bangor was only a mile away from where Rachel had broken down. It was a cute place, with a few shops, pubs, hair salon and a post office. Rachel and Batt strolled around the supermarket together, and for a minute she was transported back to the times when she and Tony would go grocery shopping together. There was something so companionable about it, she was suddenly fill
ed with a pang of loneliness.

"Is e
verything ok?" Batt asked, noticing the faraway look on her face.

"Fine, thanks," Rachel said quickly, "just lost in thought there for a minute."

They had a mini battle at the checkout when Rachel tried to pay for the groceries but Batt was having none of it.

"You're my guest," he insisted and that was the end of the battle.

Rachel followed Batt for several miles out of town on the road to his house. It couldn't even be described as a road really, it was more of a track. The campervan shook and rattled all the way. Even though the road was atrocious the view was stunning. There were bog and mountains on one side of the road, which had a certain austerely bleak charm and on the other side was a beautiful lake, whose surface was so still that it perfectly reflected the mountain behind it.

Floating on the lake were two snow white, graceful swans.

"A good omen," Rachel mused. She loved swans and hated seeing one on its own, for she always thought its mate must have died as swans supposedly mate for life.

Liz consoled her one day, when she couldn't find a second swan, that maybe it just hadn't found a mate yet. She liked that idea better than thinking its mate had died.

Before long, Batt turned right up a little hill and Rachel followed close behind him. There at the top of the hill was a large, thatched house with ivy growing on the walls. The door was painted red with a round brass knocker. The house had a garden just in front, which was somewhat overgrown with late-blooming flowers. It looked like it needed a good weeding. The house looked so cosy and inviting, Rachel couldn't help smiling.

"Here we are, home sweet home," Batt grinned as he opened the front door, his arms laden with groceries.

Rachel almost jumped out of her skin when a very large, fluffy German Shepherd took a running jump at her. She stumbled a little at the impact but managed to remain standing.

"Down, girl, down," Batt ordered the dog, "sit Sheba."

The dog immediately sat at their feet, looking up at them both with big brown eyes and wagging her tail.

"Sorry about Sheba," Batt apologised, "she gets a little excited. We don't get many visitors around here."

"That's ok," Rachel replied shakily, "I thought I was under attack there for a minute."

"Ah, no, you're perfectly safe with Sheba, she's a big old softie," he said, rubbing the dog's head gently.

"Like her owner," Rachel said, instantly regretting the words once they came out of her mouth. Batt looked at her for a minute and then smiled, making Rachel blush a little.

They made their way into the kitchen, with Sheba hot on their heels. A huge Aga stove stood against the back wall. It was toasty warm in the kitchen.

"It's thirty years old," Batt said, seeing Rachel looking in admiration at the Aga.

"Heats the whole house and gives a constant supply of hot water."

"No fear of you going cold in the winter then," she said.

"It gets too hot if anything, but I suppose that's a good complaint to have."

"So, what are we having for dinner?" Rachel asked.

"I usually like to treat myself to steak on a Friday evening, if that's ok with you?" Batt asked, looking worried.

"It sounds good to me," Rachel agreed, "nothing like a good steak."

"I'm glad you like steak, I didn't think to ask you in the supermarket," he sounded relieved, "for all I knew you could have been one of those vegans or vegetarians."

"Definitely not a vegetarian," she laughed, "I like my food too much."

"A girl after my own heart," and then it was his turn to blush.

He quickly busied himself unpacking the groceries and opening a tin of dog food for Sheba.

"I feel guilty if I don't feed her first," Batt explained, “bit like having a child really."

"Do you have children?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, a daughter, Lilliane, she lives in France with her mother."

"When did they move to France?" Rachel asked curiously.

"I lived in France for eighteen years," Batt continued, "I met Sylvie, Lilliane's mother, when I was there. We broke up nine years ago, when Lilliane was seven. My father died and being an only child, my mother needed me to come home to run the farm. She was too old to manage it herself. Sylvie didn't want to leave France to move to Ireland. She can't speak a word of English and wasn't too fond of Ireland when she visited here, and to be honest with you our relationship was in a bad place anyway.

It'd been dying a slow death for a few years. I think we persevered for those extra years for Lilliane's sake. It's difficult when there's a child involved. I miss her, but now that she's older she comes and stays with me for a few months over the summer and whenever I can find someone to mind the farm for a few weeks I stay with her and her mother in France. Our split was amicable enough, thank God, and we've always made a conscious effort to get along for Lilliane's sake."

"That's good," Rachel said, amazed at how openly Batt was speaking about his life. "Do you miss France?" she asked.

"I miss certain things," he agreed, "like the wine and the cheese. Nothing more delectable than a bottle of Chateau Neufe du Pape and real French bread smothered in melted, smelly brie. I stock up on red wine and cheese whenever I visit Lilliane. I might break some out later for dessert if you fancy it?"

"Definitely," Rachel replied, "I adore red wine, especially French. I studied in France for a year and I had an absolute blast."

"There's no place like Ireland," Batt mused. "We may not have the wine or the cheese but there's nowhere else I'd rather call home."

"Cheers to that," Rachel raised her mug in a toast.

****

"I am well and truly stuffed," Rachel said, "that was absolutely scrumptious, thank you, Batt." "My pleasure," he looked pleased with the compliment, "it's not often I get to show off my culinary expertise. More wine?"

"I don't mind if I do," she said, holding out her wine glass.

They were Waterford Crystal wine glasses, exquisitely cut. They reminded her of the glasses which her sister had given her one Christmas, and which were now one of her most prized possessions. She felt like a queen drinking from them. Once you'd drunk from such glasses you couldn't go back to drinking from plain old glass anymore.

"I almost forgot the brie," Batt said, rushing off to the kitchen.

Rachel was left alone in the sitting room, staring into the massive log fire. The fireplace itself was about a metre long and half a metre tall, surrounded by old stones and brick which were a warm brown and reddish colour. There was a sword-like feature in a decorative sheath, hanging just over the fireplace, and either side of the hearth was two, life-like statues of German Shepherds.

It's so peaceful here, she thought, and I can't believe how well Batt and I are getting along. It's like we're old friends who've known each other for years, not just a few hours.

A bookcase lined the side wall, full of books on birds and wildlife pho
tography. There were lots of DVDs on war and the usual boys' collection of action-adventure films. Rachel was surprised to see "The Bridges of Madison County" wedged in amongst the soldier films. Must have been left behind by an old girlfriend, she mused. Batt didn't seem like the type of person who'd sit around crying over unrequited love.

There were corner units built into the alcoves and they were crammed with little animal ornaments and fairy-like figurines. Definitely belonged to his mother, she decided. The floor was oak with two luxurious wool rugs in chocolate brown and cream underfoot. Thick, deep-red velvet curtains hung at the windows, giving the room an air of opulence and cosiness.

She peaked through the curtains which framed a picture postcard view of the lake and mountains. The moon cast a captivating aura over the water, with the long deep shadow of the mountain reflected on the surface.

This is a real home, she thought to herself, the people who lived here were happy. She believed you could pick up on the "vibe" of a house if you paid close enough attention, which is why she loved old houses, especially castles and their history.

A loud crackling interrupted her pleasant reverie. It was the last of the logs spitting in the grate. She stoked the flames and threw another block of wood on the smouldering embers.

"Dessert for mademoiselle," Batt swept dramatically into the room, laden down with a tray that was full to the brim with goodies.

"Merci, monsieur," Rachel responded, showing off her fluency in French, "vous etes tres gentil."

There was a plateful of warm baguettes, in the middle of which was a melted mound of creamy brie.

"It smells atrocious," Rachel gasped, turning up her nose slightly.

"I know, I know, but it will taste divine," Batt assured her confidently, "the golden rule with cheese is that the tastiness is in direct proportion to the stinkiness."

"Then this is going to taste heavenly," she laughed, helping herself to a hunk of bread and spreading a wedge of brie over it.

"There's a trick my ex-father in law taught me, if you'd like me to share it with you," Batt offered, his eyes twinkling in the firelight.

"By all means, enlighten me," Rachel grinned.

"Well, it sounds disgusting, so you have to trust me," he continued.

"Go on then," she said, dying to get her hands on more brie because it was delicious.

"Ok, pop a piece of bread and brie in your mouth. Chew it until it
’s almost the consistency of mash, then take a sip of wine and savour it in your mouth."

Rachel did as Batt instructed and couldn't believe the explosion of flavours in her mouth.

"It's melt in your mouth fantastic!" Rachel exclaimed.

Batt laughed at her response, "I know, I couldn't believe it when I first tried it myself. Please, have some more, help yourself."

"Thank you, I don't mind if I do," Rachel helped herself to another serving.

The two of them sat in companionable silence, eating bread and cheese and sipping wine, watching the flames in the fire.

"This is the life, eh?" Batt said, in between mouthfuls.

"It certainly is a great life," Rachel nodded, "thank you for this evening. You've been very generous."

"The pleasure is all mine," Batt replied, "this is the most pleasant evening I've had in quite a while. Thank you for your wonderful company."

"You're so easy to talk to," Rachel said, "not only that but you're
full of interesting stories." Batt blushed a little and decided to stoke the fire to cover his embarrassment.