Love & The Goddess (34 page)

Geoff was due to arrive at noon and I’d been up since the crack of dawn, doing everything from plumping cushions to messing with my hair. If I fiddled with my hair one more time it would
look contrived, and contrived was the last thing I wanted to look for Geoff. Natural it had to be. But a natural no-makeup look was very difficult to do, as was dressing well for the woods. For the
hundredth time, I checked my reflection in my full-length mirror. Was I over-dressed in my kick-flare blue jeans, worn under a light voile mini kaftan in shades of pinks and russets on a cream
background? It was certainly a hip look, but did I look too much like a regular at Glastonbury? At least for dinner it would be simply a matter of swapping trainers for heels, and I’d be
organised with minimal fuss.

I’d just decided everything was fine when my phone rang. I saw it was Billy, and answered it.

“Hi Kate. I know it’s short notice, but I’m in Galway visiting my aunt in hospital. Your mam said you lived in Taylor’s Hill. Right?”

“Yes …”

“I’m only five minutes away from you, then. Would you mind if I stopped in for a cup of coffee? Won’t stay long as I’ve to get back to Wicklow this afternoon.”

“Of course. I’ll text you the address.”
Damn!
Geoff was due in an hour’s time. And there was no way I could wriggle out of Billy dropping in. He had been sending
me texts reminding me that I’d promised to visit his new cookery school. (I had a plan to bring my father with me for the pleasure of a day out, although he had grumpily informed me he was in
no mood to travel anywhere at the moment because he was flat out going to see his “bloody psychiatrist”. Mam told me that “you’d need a watch tied to his behind” to
time my father’s mood-swings these days. She blamed it on the therapy, saying it was better not to rake up the past since it was well and truly buried for a good reason. I reasoned with her
that sometimes the past had to be dealt with before we could move on and that my father had to face the skeletons that had come back to haunt him. But to be honest, it was a waste of my breath
trying to convince her.)

The sound of the bell signalled Billy’s arrival, and I buzzed him in. He’d be gone before Geoff arrived, I assured myself, as I opened my apartment door.

“Great place, Kate. You never lost it, did you? The ability to surround yourself with beauty … You have impeccable taste!” He gave me one of his great big bear hugs followed
by a smacker on my cheek before he walked into the living room and had a good look around.

“Sorry I didn’t get round to visiting your place yet, Billy,” I said to his back as he peered up at the Triple Goddess before moving to look out the window.

“Well you know what they say: ‘If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain then the mountain will have to come to Mohammed.’ So here I am, but thankfully not as mountain-sized
as I once was.” He patted his quite trim torso. Then he turned to twiddle the leather handcrafted dream catcher hanging by the window, its rainbow coloured net of threads glistening in the
sunlight. “Perhaps your dream catcher drew me here today Kate … any chance of a coffee?”

“I’m not a big coffee drinker, so I’ve only got instant …”

“Oh no! Ah, only kidding, instant’s fine. A little milk and no sugar. I want to talk business with you, Kate.” Following me into the kitchen, he sat at the table and opened the
black leather cover of the iPad he was carrying. I handed him a mug of coffee, and took the chair beside him. He showed me a picture of a one-storey building faced with old stone and beautiful teak
barn doors set in a central arch. “This is the outside of the cookery school. We converted one of the outhouses.” The next photo showed a very professionally laid-out lecture room,
similar to that in third-level colleges. The top table was set on a podium with an overhead mirror, so that students could watch the teacher’s technique. Each of the eight units had its own
worktable with fitted hob, while the oven and microwaves were wall-mounted. “Now of course we’d get you whatever equipment you needed, Kate – I’m thinking, an interactive
display board, an automatic movie camera and a large screen.”

I was amazed. “It’s state of the art …”

“I’ve held back on ordering small equipment because I know you’ll have your own ideas regarding baking tins, food mixers and so on. You’ll also need to hire another
cookery teacher or chef to work with you and share hours, and …”

I touched his arm. “Hang on, Billy, you’re talking as though I’ve said ‘yes’.”

“What’s to stop you? I’ll add twenty-five per cent to your present salary and give you one of the cottages on the estate rent free. Look! Isn’t that cute?” He
brought up four images of a stone-faced cottage with a wild garden.

“Gorgeous. But I have a job here and this is where my friends are.”

“Ah, come on Kate. That’s just a job, not a career you’re passionate about. And you can make friends anywhere. I know you.” He was smiling at me intently, as if he
couldn’t and wouldn’t understand a refusal.

I didn’t know what to think. “But I’d planned to stay working where I am until retirement … The timing is all wrong … I’ve just had the greatest upheaval of
my life with my marriage break up … Maybe I’d consider it in five years time if you have a vacancy on the team ...”

“No. I know you, and if there’s one thing I’m certain of it’s this: you have to be in charge of this. You won’t want to join later, and have to work under someone
else. You’ve always been stubborn and proud, and however they have it organised you’ll tell me you would have done it differently. So it’s now or never. I need someone to head the
school and you’re perfect. I’ll give you a week to think about it because after that I’m going to have to advertise the post. We’re starting a six-month course in January
and I need the teacher to work on the syllabus before then. I want brochures printed and a website running for mid-October.” Softening his tone, he said, “Please tell me you’ll
consider it.”

“I’ll think about it. I promise.” But all I could think of was that I needed to get rid of Billy right away, or Geoff might assume he’d spent the night. “I’m
a creature of habit in lots of ways, Billy, and this would be a big upheaval, a huge lifestyle change.”

“One that would improve your quality of life no end. I’m telling you, you’ll fall in love with the estate. Look at these pictures!” He brought up images of the great
house and its sprawling grounds. He turned to face me, his eyes shining: “We’ve almost finished work converting another outhouse into a lifestyle store to sell crafts, fashion and soft
furnishings along with foods and preserves from the cookery school. In one corner, we’ll have a little bistro and coffee shop with a garden. Kate, it’s made for you. I don’t know
why you’re not jumping in the air over this.”

“Billy, I wish you the best of luck with it, really it sounds great.” I was a teacher who had spent all my life working from nine to five within certain parameters. Billy’s
enthusiasm scared the living daylights out of me.

“Don’t you see I want you to manage all of this? It’s the business opportunity of a lifetime! And I’m solvent, I have the funds to do this properly – I’m not
like the rest of the schmucks who flew too close to the sun during the Celtic tiger years.”

“I’ll give it some thought. I promise.” I stood up. I needed him to go, right now.

“Kate, you know something?”

“What?”

“I believe in serendipity and meeting you so near Machu Picchu was the universe’s way of re-uniting us. I believe you and I would make a great team, and who knows where that could
lead? They say when it comes to choosing a mate we should look to the person who could most easily be our best friend because friendship and loyalty will still be there long after the fireworks
have gone out.”

“Billy, please …” I could feel myself flushing. Would he ever stop talking and get out? “Listen, we’ll talk again, but I have a very important meeting
…”

“Ah, she’s throwing me out now. Okay, I’m going.” He gathered up his iPad, but then stopped at the door. “I’m only going on condition you’ll give this
serious consideration.”

“I promise, I promise.” I pecked his cheek and opened the door for him. “The switch at the right of the front door opens it.”

What felt like only two minutes later Geoff rang the bell. I grabbed my jacket and ran upstairs to meet him. Scanning the car park, I was relieved to see that Billy had disappeared.
“Hi!” I said shyly. “I’m ready to go now unless you want to come in for tea or coffee first?”

“No, I’m ready too.”

“I’ll drive, since I know the way.” I pressed the automatic key to open my silver Audi, and its lights flashed.

He smiled a wry smile. “Okay, I won’t refuse a ride in your nice sleek car. I tried to get rid of the smell of cigarette smoke out of mine, but it lingers. Just let me get my camera
equipment.”

As I led the way to my car, I hoped I hadn’t sounded too eager.

The drive to Coole Park in South Galway took longer than usual – the traffic was heavy in Clarinbridge, where the Oyster festival was in full swing. Once there, we walked
together through the walled garden and studied the famous autograph tree bearing the carved initials of writers from Yeats to Synge to George Bernard Shaw – all regular visitors to Coole when
it had been the private residence of Lady Gregory. Great literary works had been written in her magnificent home surrounded by exotic trees, many of which her husband Sir William had imported from
his time as Governor of Ceylon. Now people came from far and wide to walk their dogs, while young families brought children for picnics because the walled garden was an ideal place for kids to run
wild under their parents’ watchful eyes.

The surrounding woods were quieter than the garden – there was only the shimmying of the wind through the trees, the soft calling of the birds that nested there and the snapping of twigs
beneath our feet. Scents of cedar, musk and wild garlic rose up to fill our nostrils. We arrived at a magnificent giant redwood with russet bark so scaly and hairy it resembled a prehistoric
mammoth with seven trunks soaring from one root. The higher branches reached out and curled at their ends like tusks. “Feel it!” Geoff said, taking my hand and placing it on the bark.
He set his hand above mine and we stroked it together. “It almost feels like a horse!” I said. “So animal-like.”

“It’s magnificent,” he said, and I could feel the warmth of his breath brush my ear. Then he stood back and took the cap off his lens. “Stay where you are and let’s
try some shots,” he said. “Do whatever you feel like doing, just don’t pose.”

As I stood leaning against the redwood, I could feel the energy pulsating through the tree as though it were travelling rhythmically from her roots.

“That’s great, Kate, you’re a natural. Now just turn to the left ever so slightly and loosen your shoulders, while elongating your neck.” I could hear the shutter
clicking.

“Now, shake out your hair, relax your jaw muscles and think of something nice.”

Hmm … That wasn’t so hard, since I was looking straight at the object of my fantasies.

Afterwards he came over to show me some of the shots on the camera’s digital display unit. Standing that close to me, his thigh touching mine, I was enveloped by his scent. “Wow,
they’re good, Geoff. Probably the best shots I’ve ever seen of myself.” I tried to keep my voice even. Footsteps and the sound of wheels approached, and Geoff pulled me gently out
of the way as a young mother arrived wheeling her toddler in a buggy.

“One last shot, Kate, of you walking down the centre of the path towards me. I want you to think power and grace, as though you’re the queen of the forest. Not arrogance, just inner
power and self assuredness. Your natural qualities.”

But I felt self-conscious. I wasn’t used to doing this sort of thing. Standing exposed in the open, I had no prop to hide behind or hold. Suddenly an elderly man came down the path, tugged
along by a golden Labrador. “Sorry to interrupt you,” he cried. “Great place for photography. I used to take a lot here one time myself.”

“Oh, could I borrow your dog for the picture? What do you think, Geoff?”

“Ideal, if he doesn’t run away with you!”

“He won’t,” the man assured me, handing over the dog’s lead.

Click … click … click … click … “Great shots.” Geoff showed the man the images on the camera and handed him his business card. “If you call me,
I’ll send you a few. Would you like to have your own picture taken with Kate and the dog?”

“Ah no, sonny. This aul mug’s seen better days. She’s a gorgeous gal but she looks better with you, mate.” And he headed on his way.

We continued on our trail, holding hands while Geoff told me more about his painting and the fact he was planning a big exhibition for early December. “I work fast, so I’m fairly
prolific. I just wish they flew out the door as fast as I finished them.” We had arrived back at the car park, and he lit up a cigarette as he leaned against the bonnet of my car. He had a
habit of knocking back several tic tac mints as soon as he’d finished, which was just as well since I hated the smell and taste of smoke.