Breakfast at Darcy's (10 page)

‘Of you. Of Dermot.’

‘But why?’

‘Because I’d love to get the chance to go and live on the island too, Darcy. That’s why I was so keen for you to take up the
opportunity. It was just so beautiful on Tara today,’ Niall’s whole face lights up as he remembers. ‘I’ve only ever lived
in towns and cities all my life, but I’ve always longed to breathe in the fresh clean air every day, to get my hands dirty
in God’s earth, to do something more physical than push a pen across a piece of paper.’

‘But what about being a solicitor?’ I’m astonished by Niall’s revelation. ‘It’s your family business.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Niall hangs his head, ‘and that’s what makes it worse. But I never really wanted to do this; it’s just what
was expected of me, to take up the family trade. So that’s what I did, without even questioning it.’

‘But if you’re not happy, Niall … ’

‘But who is these days, Darcy? I mean, who is truly happy when you ask them?’

I’ve a feeling there may be times when I’ll struggle occasionally over the next year …

‘But you, Darcy, you’ve been given this fantastic opportunity to break free. You’re so lucky. And now even Dermot gets to
tag along too – lucky bas— I mean, so-and-so.’ Niall blushes.

Niall’s right, I’m being so ungrateful about this whole experience. I’ve been looking on it as an imposition rather than as
a wonderful opportunity to do something new with my life. ‘Well, why don’t you, then?’ I ask, without giving it a second thought.

‘Why don’t I what?’

‘Tag along with us too. To the island. If that’s what you really want.’

I probably should have given as much thought to my question as Niall gives to his answer.

‘It’s very kind of you to offer, Darcy,’ he says, smiling. ‘But I can’t.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘For one, what would I tell my father? He’d be devastated if I just gave up on my career – the business is everything to him.
And second, what do I have to offer you? It’s obvious what Dermot’s got to offer – you only have to look at him. But look
at little old me, what use would I be on a remote island in the middle of nowhere?’

It’s true; if Niall’s thin body got too close to the edge of one of those cliffs, he might easily be blown over by even the
smallest gust of wind. But he’s been so good to me over the last few weeks, and I’ve been so tied up in making my own decisions,
that I haven’t appreciated his help at all. So if this is what he truly wants …

‘Why not tell your father you’re just taking a year out – like a gap year from university?’ I suggest in a flash of inspiration.
‘I bet you never had one of those. I bet you went straight from school to college to university to working in a solicitor’s
office.’

Niall nods. ‘Yes, but—’

‘No buts. If you really want to do this, Niall, then what’s stopping you? You said yourself that your father’s nearly recovered
from his illness now. He owes you a break if you’ve been virtually running the business single-handed.’ I waggle my finger
sternly at him as he begins to interrupt again. ‘And you can forget about your other excuse. How much use do you think
I’m
going to be out there on that island? We can learn together what it’s all about, living that kind of life – I’m sure I’m
going to make loads of mistakes along the way. And you can still help me manage all the financial side of things while you’re
over there, can’t you? Probably better than if you were in Dublin.’

Niall considers this.

‘Plus, I’m going to need someone on side to back me up when I have a clash of opinions with Dermot. Which, I’m afraid to say,
might happen quite often if today’s been anything to go by.’

Niall smiles at the last part of my little speech, and then returns to being serious again. ‘I just don’t know, Darcy,’ he
says, shaking his head.

‘Please, Niall. I could do with a friend out there with me. Otherwise the only person I’m going to know will be Dermot.’

‘Don’t forget Eamon,’ Niall is grinning now.

I roll my eyes. ‘Thanks for that. A year on an island with Bob the Builder on growth hormones and Ireland’s answer to Robinson
Crusoe – that’s going to be fun.’

Niall laughs now. ‘You do make me smile, Darcy. Oh, go on
then, I’ll do it. On one condition, though – that I can square it with my father.’

I throw my arms around him and give him a huge hug. Somehow the thought of having Niall there with me makes it all seem a
lot less daunting.

‘So now we are three,’ I say, releasing him from my embrace. ‘Only another twelve more to find … ’

‘Are you sure you need all this stuff?’ Niall asks, eyeing up the back of the people-carrier once more as we drive along the
narrow road down towards the harbour. ‘I know we’re going across there for a year, but will you actually wear it all?’

‘It’s not
all
clothes,’ I keep my eyes firmly in front of me as I drive. These Irish roads are full of twists and turns, and I don’t want
to crash into a stray sheep wandering across the road. ‘There’s make-up, and beauty products in there too, and provisions.’

‘What sort of provisions? We will be able to get food, you know, there’ll be a regular boat going over to the mainland every
week.’

Niall and I are travelling together on the final stage of our journey before we leave civilisation and go and live on the
island for the year, and my stomach feels as if I’m about to get on one of those huge fairground rides that throw your insides
all over the place and charge you for the pleasure.

In the few months that have whizzed by since I visited Tara with Dermot and Niall, so much has happened that I’ve barely been
able to keep track of everything.

I returned to England, and the next morning promptly handed in my notice at
Goddess
magazine. I just dived straight in there before I had a chance to change my mind, and before Samantha had a chance to try
and stir up trouble as a result of the water incident. I didn’t tell any of the staff, including Jemima, what I was going
to do – just that I had other plans for my future. And after the initial shock that I was leaving had died down, it didn’t
take everyone long to start discussing who might be promoted into my job. Not that I expected any more from them, but it was
quite disappointing to think that my boss and her staff who I’d worked with for so long cared so little about the fact that
I would no longer be a part of the
Goddess
team. Sophie was the only person I told the real reason, after I had to ask to stay at her flat a little longer, now that
the old one was being pulled apart. There seemed little point in trying to rent a new one for a few weeks, and she, like Roxi,
thought I was mad. Mad for even considering
not
doing it.

Dermot, after organising all the necessary equipment and manpower to be ferried over to the island, was now living there with
the other men who were to work alongside him in one of the few houses that were fit for human habitation. On his return to
the UK, he’d set to work immediately on a full-scale plan of action, and had been very thorough about keeping me up to date
on everything by email, and occasionally with the odd phone call, before he left. But mostly I’d just OK’d everything, and
left it all to him. I was quite happy
that he knew what he was doing. I was more concerned about how I was going to pack enough clothes for a year. A lot of my
stuff had gone into storage already, because Sophie didn’t have enough room in her flat, so after many lists, shopping trips
and nights surfing the internet, I’d finally settled on a wardrobe I felt would be appropriate for a year spent in remote,
rural Ireland.

Of the three of us it was Niall who had the most trouble cutting the strings, especially with his father. But after several
sessions of ‘words’, as Niall described them – rather than
arguments
, he proudly announced one day over the phone that he had been given a year’s sabbatical from the solicitor’s, and would be
joining Dermot and me on the island in April. Niall then set about placing advertisements in all the national Irish newspapers
– and some of the UK ones too – looking for people to come and help set up a new island community.

Do you long to live the GOOD LIFE?

Get away from it all and do something different?

Why not come and be a part of a new island community on the Isle of Glentara, off Ireland’s beautiful west coast? Interviews
to be held in Dublin.

For an application form or for further details, please contact

Darcy McCall or Niall Kearney

We decided not to mention the one-year legacy in all this. The only people who would know about that would be Dermot, Niall
and me. After all, there was no reason why, if it all worked out, the others couldn’t stay on after my year
was over, if they so desired. I would make sure that whoever I sold the island to bought it as a going concern. It would be
only me who would have a time scale built into my stay on Tara.

My part in all this preparation had been to surf the internet; more specifically, the social networking sites. I already had
my own Facebook and Twitter pages, and so apart from setting up new pages to advertise both the island and my project, I’d
been socialising like mad on them both, trying to find like-minded people who might be keen to try out island living for a
year.

I wondered at first if we’d get any responses at all. I certainly didn’t anticipate the enormous amount of messages and emails
that poured in from willing volunteers, all desperate to be chosen to come and live on Tara. To be fair, a high percentage
of them were from slightly odd types, who I wasn’t sure about spending two minutes in a lift with, let alone a year living
on an island. But Niall and I managed to sift through the cranks and loonies, and filter it down to the people we felt might
be worth seeing.

The three of us held interviews in Dublin for all the lucky candidates, where we met people who were perfect for the island,
and some who were not quite so perfect. Although who I considered the ideal person to spend a year on an island with was not
Dermot’s idea of ideal, and vice-versa. As usual, Niall chose to remain impartial throughout.

After the interviews, it seemed quite obvious to me who we should choose to come and share this experience with us. But, as
always, Dermot had to make it difficult.

*

‘But
why
?’ I ask him over and over again as we sit around a table discussing our choices in the lounge of the hotel we’ve been holding
our interviews in. ‘What’s wrong with them this time?’ I glance at the application form Dermot is brandishing in his hand;
attached is a photo of a cheerful-looking man with chubby cheeks.

‘Just why is The Little Chef coming to Tara?’ he asks, waving the form at me. ‘Darcy, you need people over there who can work
for a year to make this island as self-sufficient as possible, not eat all the profits before we’ve made any.’

I’m trying to remain calm, but this has been a long day, and it’s fast turning into a very long and tortuous night.
Have I done the right thing in asking Dermot to come with us?
He seems to be causing a lot of trouble already, and this is before we’ve even got there. ‘Dermot, we are not simply trying
to pick people on a “who can work the hardest” basis, like they’re some sort of human pack horse. We do have to live with
these people for a whole year; we have to be able to get on with each other.’

Dermot stares at me for a few seconds, then shakes his head. ‘I wondered how long it would take you to revert to type,’ he
says, dropping the pile of applications back down on the table. ‘You’ve already forgotten all about the practical side of
living out there on that island, in favour of this becoming some sort of Irish soap opera where we’re all popping in and out
of each other’s houses for cups of tea and coffee every morning.’

‘No I haven’t!’ I’ve lost my grip on the calmness now. ‘I know exactly what we’re trying to do here; I’ve got complete control
over the situation. And don’t you dare say I’m of a type. You have
no idea
what type of person I am, you … you barely
know
me!’

‘Actually,’ Dermot smirks, ‘you’re backing up my point pretty well right now.’

I glare at him, and swipe my drink up off the table.

Niall, using his best United Nations negotiation techniques, finally managed to reopen discussions again a few minutes later.
But when the debate continued into the early hours of the next morning and we were still not getting anywhere, I felt I had
to put my foot down.

‘Dermot,’ I’m trying to remain diplomatic. ‘I’ve listened to your point of view, and yes, with a few of these people I can
see that you have got a valid point. But,’ I add, as that same triumphant expression begins to cross his face, ‘with more
than a few here, I can’t see what your problem is. What, for instance, is your issue with Conor?’

The last person to enter the interview room that day had been Conor, the cute guy who had taken us across to the island in
the motorboat on my first visit. He wasn’t on our shortlist, but as Niall pointed out while we hastily got him to fill out
an application form, someone local would know the island better than most, so we had decided to give him an interview.

‘Thanks for giving me a shot,’ Conor grins as he sits down in front of us. He looks very different to how I remember him from
the boat, so much so that I almost mistake him for someone else. I’m not sure who, but for a split second I feel like I’ve
met him before. Today Conor is clean-shaven, and is wearing a tight white t-shirt, clean jeans and brown Caterpillar boots.
His wavy blond hair that was unruly and dishevelled before, today is kept under strict control by a dash of hair gel, and
his
short-sleeved shirt now allows a rather pleasant view of a pair of taught, tanned biceps that his Aran sweater, on our first
visit back in January, had sadly kept a well-guarded secret. ‘It was grand out there, waiting with everyone else who’s wanting
to come and live with us all on Tara.’