Hot Property (Irish romantic comedy) (13 page)

The crowd roared as the gates opened, and the horses catapulted onto the course. The favourite took the lead at once and was soon a few lengths ahead, with Bare Necessities trailing at the back.

Megan slumped in her seat and turned her head away. “I don’t want to look.”
            

Paudie didn’t reply but took the binoculars from Megan and kept them clamped to his eyes. He suddenly made a strange noise. “What the—? Hey, Megan, look!”

“What? Our horse died?”

“No, he’s—” Paudie pulled at Megan. “Will you look, for fuck’s sake!”

Megan came to life at the same time as the crowd stood up as one and started to shout. She stared at the clump of horses and noticed that the jockey in bright pink and the little grey horse were nearly in the lead. The favourite was struggling, but the little grey soldiered on and, inch by inch, narrowed the gap. Then they were neck and neck.

“Come on!” Megan shouted. “You can do it!”

As if he could hear her, the little grey horse surged forward just before they reached the finish, and won by a head.

The crowd cheered. Paudie beamed. Megan threw her arms around him and burst into tears.

Paudie hugged her tight and laughed. “You won four thousand euros, girl. Why are you crying?”

Megan laughed and wiped the tears away. “I don’t know. It was just so exciting. And winning felt so strange.” She sighed and flopped onto her seat. “I can get some furniture now. Have the windows replaced. Finally get my house to look like a home.”

“And I won eight hundred. What a star Diana is to breed such a little trooper. We must go and thank her. She’ll be in the owner’s tent in a minute. I bet she’ll treat us to champagne.”

They started to walk down the steps, the crowd milling around them. When they were nearly at the bottom, Megan noticed a commotion below. Someone seemed to have collapsed.

“Someone’s been taken ill,” Paudie said.

“Should we go and see if we can help?”

They were interrupted by a siren. An ambulance came into view, lights blazing. “There would have been one standing by for the jockeys,” Paudie remarked. “Best place to have a heart attack, if you want the best care.”

The ambulance stopped, and two paramedics jumped out. They immediately came to the victim’s aid and applied an oxygen mask to his mouth. “Oh, good. He seems to be alive and breathing,” Megan said, relieved.

They lifted the man onto a stretcher. Then Megan saw who he was: Garret Nolan, clutching a bunch of betting tickets.

~ ~ ~

“Something’s come up,” Dan said. He had walked into the house late one evening, just as Megan arrived home.

She put her bag on the kitchen table. “What’s the matter?”

Dan pushed his fingers through his hair. “My dad’s in hospital, and I’ve had to take over at his office as well.”

“How is he?”

Dan sighed. “He had a heart attack two days ago. At the races.”

“I know. I was there.”

Dan looked up. “You were? At the races? What were you doing there? And why didn’t you tell me?”

Megan switched on the kettle. “Do I have to tell you everything? Yes, I was at the races. With…” She paused. “I mean, to see a friend’s horse run in one of the races. Then your dad collapsed practically in front of me. The ambulance was there in seconds, so he got help very quickly. I was told who he was by…” she paused again. “Some people who knew him.”

Dan looked confused. “Oh. Who’s your friend?”

“What? Oh, the one with the horse. Diana Connolly-Smith, my neighbour. Not her horse exactly, she just bred him. He won, actually.” Megan drew breath.

“Did you bet on him?”

Megan beamed. “Yes. And I won. Four thousand euros. Isn’t that amazing? I can afford to have the windows done now.”

He looked at her blankly. “You won four thousand euros?”

 
“Yes. Couldn’t believe it. It was like a dream. So exciting. But never mind about me. How’s your dad now?”

Dan sat down at the table. “He’ll be fine. It wasn’t a major attack. But he’ll have to be careful. Losing all that money didn’t help though.”

“I can imagine. Tea?”

“Yes, please. I could do with a cup. I’m a little stressed right now. What with my dad and then this problem with your house. So tea would be nice. Unless you have anything stronger.”

“No.” Oddly irritated at the way he made himself so familiar in her house, Megan busied herself with making tea. After she had put two mugs on the table and poured boiling water into the teapot, she sat down opposite Dan. “You said something’s come up with the house. So what’s the emergency, then?”

He looked suddenly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat noisily and started to speak very fast. “Well, it’s about the deeds. The probate court made a mistake. We’ve found that the property is encumbered, and there’s an outstanding debt of twenty-five thousand on it. It appears Pat borrowed some money a few years ago and didn’t pay it back. That debt is now yours.” Dan drew breath. “So…”

“So..?” Megan said. “How am I going to find that kind of money?”

Dan shrugged. “Unless you have it or take out a loan, you’ll have to sell.” He looked at her at last and smiled. “But you have that amazing offer, so you could sell up very quickly, pay the debt and still be rolling in it. So that’s pretty cool, right”

Megan looked at Dan for a long time. “No, it isn’t. I love this house. Having to sell it would break my heart. Why can’t you see that?”

Dan squirmed. “What’s the matter with you? Don’t you see that hanging on to this shack is madness? That you could buy any little cottage out there on the Maharees and still have some cash left over?” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “We could be together there every weekend. And you’d be near to The Blue Door, so you’d get to work quickly. Think about it, Megan. You’d be living in a gorgeous spot and not have all the hassles of doing up this ugly—”

The chair toppled onto the tiles with a loud clatter as Megan shot up. “Ugly? You call my house ugly? I think it’s a very beautiful house, actually. I know it’s run down and in need of repairs. But…”

Dan walked around the table and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to say your house was ugly. It’s just that it’s going to take so much work and so much money to do it up. Seems too much for a girl.” He kissed her cheek. “Okay, so I was jealous. I don’t want you to spend so much time and effort on the house. I want to be with you as much as I can. I can’t stop thinking about you when we’re apart. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” He turned her around and kissed her mouth.

She sighed and let him, yet again, sooth her into submission.

~ ~ ~

Megan pulled in beside Paudie’s gate only half noticing the strange car with Dublin number plates.
Maybe some tourist looking for directions. Funny how this road seems to attract them.
Paudie often joked that he would have to start charging for information or put up a little booth selling coffee and a map of the area.

Smiling to herself, Megan went around the back of the house. The kitchen door was open and Denis wandered out, wagging his tail. Megan patted his head and walked into the kitchen. She stopped halfway in and stared at the kitchen table. It was laid for dinner with tableware she had never seen before. Confused, she looked at the linen placemats, the silver cutlery, the crystal wineglasses and the jug with artfully arranged wildflowers.

The kitchen was tidy, the stove polished and the dresser cleared of the usual disarray. There was a smell of something delicious, full of garlic and herbs coming from the oven, and a stick of French bread lay across the front to warm. The room looked like a photo in Good Housekeeping.
Dinner for two in my country kitchen
,
or something
, Megan thought fleetingly, before the door to the living room flew open and a woman burst in.

She stopped dead and looked at Megan. “Oh. Hi. Sorry, but…” She was tall and slim with blond ringlets framing an angelic face, huge eyes and a pouty mouth. Dressed in a sky blue tee-shirt, long cotton skirt and sandals, she looked as if she was about to sing a hymn in some chapel in The Sound of Music.

Megan ran a hand through her windswept hair and felt suddenly
unfresh
, as if she needed to put on deodorant and brush her teeth. “Hi, I’m Megan,” she said and held out her hand.

The woman looked confused. “Yes? What can I do for you?”

Megan let her hand drop. “You mean Paudie hasn’t said anything about me?”

She shook her head. “Uh, no. But I only arrived this afternoon. Paudie is out doing some farming or something. He’ll be here soon. I hope,” she added with a laugh. “Or the coq au vin will be a disaster.”

Megan managed a pale smile. “ Well, that would be… disappointing.” She cleared her suddenly dry throat. “In any case, like I said, I’m Megan. O’Farrell. I live down the road. I’m doing up an old house I inherited.”

The woman smiled, showing a row of tiny white teeth. “I see. I thought you were a lost tourist. She held out her hand. “I’m Victoria. Bunny for short.”

Only now did Megan notice her America accent.
Grace fucking Kelly
, she thought, at the same time trying to figure out how Victoria could become Bunny. “Hi,” she said automatically and shook hands. “Nice to meet you.”

Bunny nodded. “Very nice. I suppose you’re wondering who the hell I am, right?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “Paudie and I were in a relationship a while back. It didn’t work out, so I went back home again. But I had to come over to get a few things I left, like my paintings and so on. So here I am. And Paudie was so glad to see me and asked me to stay a while longer. So I’ll be spending what’s left of my vacation here.” She smiled wistfully. “And who knows? We might find that romance isn’t quite dead after all.”

Chapter 13

“Shit. She’s back,” Beata said. They were walking on the beach after a long morning of washing up and making beds.

Megan looked at Beata. “Why does that bother you? I mean Paudie had broken up with her when you were with him.”

“Yeah, but she was on his mind constantly. He couldn’t stop talking about her. I suppose he was on the rebound when he met me, so I was just some kind of consolation prize. Or a way to prove to himself he could still do it. She’s one of those ballbreakers, you know?”

Megan laughed. “She looks like an angel from one of those old paintings. I can’t imagine she’d break anyone’s balls. More like she’d burst into ‘My Favourite Things’ any minute.”

“Yeah,” Beata sighed. “But the fragile-looking ones are the worst. I bet she’ll move back in now and pick up where she left off. Turning the house into an art gallery and Paudie into her lap dog.”

“I can’t see that happening.”

Beata stopped and looked at Megan. “How do you feel about this? I mean you and Paudie are pretty close.”

“We’re just friends. Close friends, but that’s all.”

Beata peered at Megan. “Really? Just friends, huh?”

“Of course,” Megan said. “Nothing more. But nothing less either. If he’s happy, so am I.”

“Yeah, sure. I wouldn’t have thought he could resist a hot woman like you.”

 
“Hot?” Megan laughed. “Me? I might have been once. But look at me now.” She glanced down at her less-than-clean jeans and wrinkly cotton shirt. “A long way from the stylist I used to be. I haven’t had my hair cut in two months or had a facial or even done my nails, other than cutting them short. I seem to have done some kind of Cinderella in reverse this summer.”

Beata started walking across the sand again. “You know, you’re much more attractive now than you were when you arrived. Much less stuck up and snobby.”

“What?” Megan pulled at Beata. “What did you say? Stuck up and snobby?”

Beata turned around. “Yes, you were. You looked at everyone and judged them for how they looked and what they wore. You even tried to restyle Boris, remember?”

Megan laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. And he listened for a while. Even went and had his hair cut and bought that pink shirt in TK Maxx. I thought you’d have a heart attack when you saw him.”

Beata giggled. “Yeah, the Ralph Lauren look lasted for about an hour. Then he said it was too good for everyday and never wore it again. And the hair grew out into the same old mop.”

Megan sat down on the sand. “Let’s take a break. The wind’s getting up, and they’ve promised a storm later.”

Beata joined her. “The first storm of the summer. Means we’re getting into autumn.”

“That’s a little sad.”

“Yes.”

They both looked at the sea in silence for a few minutes. The wind increased in strength, but it was still warm.

“So how do you feel about Paudie and Saint Victoria, then?” Beata asked.

“How do you mean?” Megan pulled up her knees and rested her chin on them. “I told you. We’re just friends, so why should that change anything?”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean? I’m not going to do anything.”

Beata glanced at Megan with respect. “You’re one smart bitch.”

~ ~ ~

 
Megan pulled herself together and finished painting all the walls of the house. She decided to use some of the money she had won to buy furniture. She contacted the firm in Dingle for a quote to replace the window frames, and made an appointment with the bank manager in Tralee to negotiate a loan. Not that she had high hopes he would agree but she had to try. The loss of the unemployment benefits, although small, made her finances less than impressive, but she did have the income from Beata and what was left of her savings.

She had a fun day with Beata in Tralee trawling through furniture shops. They bought a bed with an iron bedhead, a white bedside cupboard and a matching wardrobe. A bookcase for the front room that had been the good room and would be turned into a study-cum-guestroom. Her remaining furniture was brought down to Kerry by hired transport and carted into the house by two burly Latvians. The red sofa looked as if it belonged in front of the fireplace, and the antique desk fit perfectly into the alcove in the new study. With the addition of two large Indian rugs they found in a second-hand shop, an expensive patchwork quilt Megan fell in love with in a design shop and assorted lamps and framed prints, the house was now a home.

When all the items were carted into the house by a surly Boris who had driven them home in Beata’s battered van, Megan sank into the sofa with a sigh. “Finally.”

Beata looked around the room. “This is really nice. I love the white walls. Makes the room so bright. The curtains we found will look good here. And with the rug and the two easy chairs we discovered in that second-hand shop, it’ll be really comfortable and cosy. A room to cuddle up in front of the fire on a wet day.”

“If I can get the chimney swept,” Megan sighed.

“Boris will do that for you.” Beata went into the hall. “Boris, when you’ve set up the bed, come down and have a cup of tea with us,
willya
’?”

“Okay, boss,” Boris grunted from the bedroom.

“He seems a little bit cross,” Megan remarked.

Beata sank down on the sofa beside Megan and stared into the fireplace. “Yeah. He’s not in a good mood these days. Doesn’t even want to hump me.”

Megan giggled, despite Beata’s downcast face. “I love your choice of expressions.”

“Do you think he’s going off me?”

Megan sobered up. “I wouldn’t think so. If he did, wouldn’t he just leave? Maybe there’s something going on at home in Russia?”

“Hmm. Yes. Could be something Russian, all right. They’re so fucking
moody
all the time. Very tiring.”

“Unlike Poles, who are furious, scathingly critical or cool but friendly?”

“At least with us, what you see is what you get. We don’t withdraw into ourselves and make other people worry.”

“Very true. Or never let anyone know how you feel.”

“Like Paudie?”

Megan nodded. “Yes. Like Paudie.”

“Have you seen him lately?”

“No,” Megan said. “But then, I haven’t been anywhere near the farm up there.”

“I saw
her
going into that French cheese shop in Tralee,” Beata said. “I bet he’ll get indigestion eating all that fancy food. Being used to a diet of cold pizza and ham and bread, I mean.”

Megan looked up as Boris came in carrying a tray with three steaming mugs and a jug of milk. “I made tea,” he said. “You don’t mind, Megan?”

Megan cleared a space on the little table on front of the sofa. “No, that’s terrific.”

Boris slurped some tea from his mug. “I just listened to radio in living room. There is news of your man’s father.”

Megan poured milk into her tea. “What man?”

“Your man,” Boris said. “The man you go with.”

“Do you mean Daniel Nolan?” Beata asked.

Boris nodded. “Yes. The lawyer. He was on radio.”

“Really? I haven’t seen him today,” Megan said. “What did he say on the radio?”

Boris shook his head impatiently. “Not say, do. His father do.”

Beata shot up from the sofa. “For God’s sake, Boris, spit it out! What the hell was it about?”

Boris finished his tea with a loud slurp. “Okay. Don’t get your knickers twisted, Beata. I will tell. The lawyer man, Mr Nolan’s father has been put in prison.”

~ ~ ~

He was right. Megan heard the whole story on the evening news. Garret Nolan had been arrested for fraud. It appeared he had taken money out of one of his clients’ accounts as they paid the full asking price for a house in Tralee. A deposit of twenty thousand euros was supposed to have been paid to the vendors, but when they tried to withdraw the money, it was gone from the account. His son, a well-known solicitor, made no comment, and the trial was set for later in the year. Bail was set at two hundred and fifty euros.

Stunned, Megan switched off the radio. So that was it. Dan’s dad was not only a gambling addict but also a thief. Stealing money from his clients to feed his habit, no doubt. Poor Dan, having to deal with this. She felt suddenly guilty about being so obsessed with her own problems, she hadn’t listened to Dan. And guilty for letting whatever had happened in his wild youth affect her. That had nothing to do with her.

Megan picked up her phone to do what she usually did these days when she had a problem. Talk to Paudie. But no. She dropped the phone on the table.
That’s not possible anymore. He wouldn’t have the time to talk to me. Even if he wanted to. Which he probably wouldn’t.

She heard a jeep drive up outside, and her heart skipped a beat.
That must be him. Coming to check the cattle. Maybe I could have a chat with him after all.

She rushed out the back door and around the corner of the house but stopped dead when she saw who it was. Diana with the horses.

~ ~ ~

The mare and foal were unloaded and Diana went back for the other two. When the horses were settled and grazing, the foals suckling from their mothers, Megan and Diana leaned on the fence and watched. The evening sun lent a golden glow to the air and the mild breeze stirred leaves and grasses. The horses swished their tails and twitched their ears at the flies.

Diana let out a long sigh. “Isn’t this the best time of day? When all the chores are done. And you can stand here and listen to the sound of horses chomping and watch the foals feeding, and all is right with the world for one short second.”

Megan put her arms on the fence. “Yes. A good moment.”

Diana glanced at her. “You don’t sound too happy. Something wrong?”

“Not really. Just some stuff.”

Diana put her hand on Megan’s arm. “We all have stuff. I won’t intrude. But if you want an ear, I’ll be happy to listen.”

Megan smiled wanly. “Thanks. I think I’ll just try to forget it all and move on.”

Diana nodded. “Moving on is good. A hard thing to do but in time, we all get there.”

“I know. Thanks.”

Diana moved away. “I have to go. Nearly supper time and we have guests.” She clapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh shit, I nearly forgot. We’re having a party next week. End-of-summer garden party. Well, it’s supposed to be in the garden, but it nearly always rains, so we end up in the house anyway. What was I saying… Oh, yes. We’d like you to come. Next Saturday.”

“A party?” Megan said. “I had nearly forgotten what that was. Thank you.”

“You want to come, I hope?”

“Of course. Sounds like fun.”

“It will be. And do bring your date. That handsome solicitor, isn’t that right?”

Megan nodded. “Yes. Dan. But he might have some family problems. I’ll be there in any case. Thanks for inviting me.”

Diana backed away. “Excellent. Everyone’s coming. I’ve even invited that Polish girl and her Russian. They’ll make the party less bourgeois.”

Megan laughed. “You can count on it. Just don’t offer Boris any vodka.”

“We’ll just serve champagne, and everyone will get deliciously sloshed.”

“Perfect. I’ll get sloshed too.”

“We all will. Even Paudie’s saintly fiancée.