The Kinsella Sisters (10 page)

The day after Frank’s funeral, Dervla swung by Río’s house to drive them both to the Villa Felicity. Adair Bolger had invited them for cocktails to mark the start of a new year, and Dervla was dying to see what the interior was like.

Making the decision to gift a third of Frank’s house to Río had not been a difficult one. Since the rift with her sister all those years ago, Dervla had had a recurring dream that she was living in Coral Cottage, and that Río had come to visit her, barefoot, with a baby in her arms. In the dream, Río asked Dervla if she could come in and shelter because there was a storm on the way. Dervla had said ‘no’ and then she had watched as Río made her way down the overgrown path of the garden and crossed the orchard where the fruit lay rotting on the ground. She heard the rusty creak of the old five-bar gate as Río passed through, and the crunch of her feet on the shingle as she started walking towards the sea. The dream always ended with Dervla calling, ‘Come back, Río!’, but Río just carried on walking because Dervla’s voice had been snatched by the wind that had started to blow from the west. After these dreams, Dervla always woke up in a cold sweat, with the vision of her sister disappearing beneath the waves imprinted on her mind’s eye.

Dervla hoped that by presenting Río with a home of her own,
the nightmares might stop, and with them the feelings of guilt that she’d harboured for so many years. Guilt that she’d overreacted to the stupid Shane thing, guilt that she hadn’t been there for Río when she was struggling to rear her baby, guilt that–being resident in Lissamore–Río had effectively borne the burden of caring for Frank. And now her guilt was compounded by the fact that Río had spent all those years caring for a man who was not even a blood relation. She also hoped that now that her sister was back in her life, they could be friends again. Frank may have been an irresponsible and neglectful father, but he’d still been family. Now Río was the only family that Dervla had left.

Dervla parped the car horn lightly outside Río’s house and her sister came to the door wearing her usual hippy-dippy gear.

‘Honestly, Río! Couldn’t you have made a bit more of an effort? We’re not going to Glastonbury.’

‘I don’t have anything smart to wear.’

‘Don’t you have a suit or something for when you’re driving?’

‘Yes. But I’m not putting on a suit to impress Adair Bolger. It’s a horrible cheap old thing, anyway, and I hate wearing synthetic fibre.’

Dervla sighed. ‘All right, then. Hop in.’

‘You’re not taking the car, are you? It’s hardly any distance. Let’s walk.’

‘In these shoes?’ Dervla raised an eyebrow and indicated her cream leather kitten-heeled mules. ‘I don’t think so.’

She started the ignition, and the car set off down the main street of the village, past the pub and the post office and the general store, past the fishermen’s cottages and the holiday lets and the marina, past a millionaire’s mansion and the old Protestant churchyard, past B & Bs and a five-star hotel and spa that was under construction. They passed Fleurissima, where the all-white window display had remained unchanged since the close of season, and the seafood restaurant, from which wafted a glorious smell of frying garlic, and the bottle bank, which was
overflowing with empties after Frank’s wake yesterday. Not far outside the village, they took the turn-off that led to the Villa Felicity, and the beach.

‘I wonder will he rename it now that they’re splitting up?’ said Río. ‘Maybe he could call it “Smugville”.’

‘I hope you’re not going to wisecrack your way through the afternoon, Río. Adair Bolger is a very useful contact. You’d be unwise to offend him.’

‘Is that the word you use to describe your friends, Dervla? “Contacts”?’

‘I don’t have many friends, Río. I’m too busy.’

‘So it’s all work and no play?’

‘Mostly.’

‘Don’t you have any social life at
all?’

‘Oh, yes. I have a social life. I play golf and I work out in a gym. A very exclusive one. I attend corporate events and theatrical first nights and book launches and exhibition openings and fashion shows and golf classics and charity lunches. But that’s work too. My social life is all about networking.’

‘What do you do to relax?’

‘I read the property pages.’

It was true. Dervla lived, breathed and dreamed property. She subscribed to every property periodical going, she recorded property programmes to watch late at night, she surfed the web ceaselessly, visiting other agents’ websites to check out the competition and Googling developers to give her a handle on the market. This afternoon she’d be in a position to get some insider info from Adair Bolger, which she could use to her advantage. She was keen to find out more about what people had started to refer to as the forthcoming ‘credit crunch’. Forewarned was forearmed.

In her capacity as an auctioneer, Dervla was ruthless–a Rottweiler. Every single person she had dealings with was a potential link to another person, and that other person might be in
the market for a house. And if they weren’t, they might know someone who
was
in the market for a house.

Dervla had asked Adair some questions yesterday, and had learned that the reason the Bolgers no longer spent much time in Lissamore was because Felicity’s dream of hosting house parties had come to nothing after the first few summers they’d taken up residence. As the traffic on bank holiday weekends became more and more unspeakable, more and more of her Dublin 4 friends declined her invitations to visit the Bolgers’ palatial summer home. In despair, Felicity had applied for planning permission for a helipad so her friends could fly to the west coast, but scandals involving property developments had rocked the country to Government level, and the new boys in Planning proved to be less compliant than their predecessors. When Felicity realised that her villa was no longer the stately pleasure dome that had been her heart’s desire, she had turned her back on it, never to return.

At the gate, Dervla got out of the car and pressed the buzzer. Knowing that she’d be on video surveillance, she affected her most pleasant expression.

‘Dervla!’ came Adair’s voice over the speaker. ‘You’re welcome! Come on in.’

The Merc glided smoothly through the big steel gates and joined Adair’s coupe under the
porte-cochère
that protected its gleaming paintwork from the weather. The sisters got out of the car as their host emerged onto the massive slab of polished granite that was his front step. He was wearing a Ben Sherman shirt, Levi’s, and deck shoes. He scrubbed down well, Dervla decided.

‘Come in, come in,’ he said. ‘This way!’

‘Thank you.’ Dervla passed through the atrium, looking around in awe. Even for a seasoned professional like her–having handled sales worth millions–this was
impressive!

‘I feel like I’m boarding a luxury liner,’ she said.

Adair turned to her and nodded. ‘That’s exactly the impression the architect intended to convey,’ he said.

‘Wish I’d taken a seasickness tablet before I left the house,’ quipped Río under her breath, and Dervla narrowed her eyes at her.

They followed Adair into a vast living space, where a window that resembled a proscenium arch framed a priceless view. Beyond the expanse of sliding glass, a teak deck ran the length of the house. Dervla started doing mental arithmetic. To have a house like this on her books would lend her no end of prestige. She wondered if Adair was considering selling. Was that why he had invited her here this evening? To allow her an informal recce?

‘Words fail me,’ she said. ‘It’s magnificent, Adair.’

‘Words fail me too,’ said Río.

Dervla shot her sister a look to see if she was being sarky, but Río’s expression was unreadable. ‘I understand you have a pool,’ she remarked.

‘Yes.’ Adair strolled to the other side of the room, where a second sliding door opened onto a vast patio that boasted pool, hot tub, changing pagoda and barbecue area.

‘That was a feature of the original garden,’ said Adair, indicating an ancient stone sundial on the raised area by the hot tub. ‘We kept it for luck.’

‘I remember it,’ said Río. ‘It used to be by the henhouse, where your barbecue is now.’

‘There was a henhouse here once? How quaint!’

‘Yeah. I used to come here with my mother to buy eggs. I suppose the only ones I could get here now would be of the Faberge variety’

‘I’ve always liked the idea of keeping silkies,’ said Dervla, keen to change the subject.

‘What are silkies?’ asked Adair.

‘They’re a breed of chicken.’

‘I thought they were a brand of underwear,’ said Río.

Dervla chose to ignore her sister. ‘They’re little fluffy bantams–awfully sweet.’

Río gave her a disingenuous look. ‘It wouldn’t be easy, keeping poultry in your penthouse.’

‘Where’s Izzy?’ asked Dervla, by now wishing fervently that she’d left Río behind.

‘She’s on the phone to some pal in Dublin, so God knows when she’ll deign to join us. You know teenage girls and their phones, ha-ha. Her last bill floored me, it was so astronomical. Now, what can I get you to drink, ladies? Champagne, martini, G&T?’

‘Just water for me, thanks, Adair,’ said Dervla.

‘Are you sure I can’t rustle up a cocktail for you? I know it’s rather early in the day, but I’m still officially on holiday.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t join you, much as I’d like to,’ Dervla told him. ‘I’ve to drive back to Galway this evening.’

‘How about you, Río?’

‘I’d love a cocktail,’ said Río, with a minxy smile. ‘I’ll have a Slow Comfortable Screw Up Against the Wall. Mexican style, please.’

‘Urn. Coming up,’ said Adair. ‘Just–er–let me check the bar to see that I’ve got sloe gin. That is one of the key ingredients, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Río. ‘Hence the pun on
slow
, although I can’t say that I’ve ever had a screw against a wall that was even remotely comfortable.’

Once their host had disappeared on his cocktail-mixing mission, Dervla turned to Río. ‘What the hell do you think you’re at, Río?’ she hissed. ‘You may have a strong personal antipathy for the man, but please stop taking the piss.’

Río’s eyes widened. ‘I’m not taking the piss,’ she said.

‘Then what do you mean by asking for a Slow Comfortable Screw, for heaven’s sake?’

‘It just happens to be my favourite drink of all time. I’ve spent years as a bartender, remember? I know my cocktails.’

Dervla detected something prickly about Río’s demeanour today, something slightly mutinous. Maybe her sister was still sore over the fact that she’d never been able to get her mitts on Coral Cottage, never been able to achieve her dream of living by the sea and cultivating her garden there. But, as Dervla had pointed out just last week, the past was another country. It was time for them to move on; and that included jettisoning adolescent flights of fancy involving Pierce Brosnan lookalikes and Dalmatians and marmalade cats.

‘He’s got a bar,’ observed Río. ‘How naff! Did you know that Aristotle Onassis had bar-stools covered with whales’ foreskins on the—’

In her peripheral vision, Dervla saw Adair come back into the room. ‘Yes, yes–you’re right, Río,’ she interjected adroitly. ‘The pool
is
magnificent.’

‘What?’ said Río.

‘The pool,’ Dervla said, with emphasis, giving Río a meaningful look.

Thankfully, her sister copped on. ‘Oh. Right,’ she said. And so is the hot tub. ‘And the barbecue. It’s magnificent too.’

‘We were just remarking on how magnificent your house is,’ said Dervla, turning to Adair with a dazzling smile.

‘Oh, yes? Thank you. Feel free to have a look around while I mix the drinks. You’ll be glad to know that I do have sloe gin, Río, so I think I’ll join you in a highball. Here’s your water, Dervla.’

‘Thank you, Adair.’ Dervla accepted a tinkling Waterford glass tumbler of fizzy water and ice. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind us having a look around?’ she asked. ‘I don’t want to seem like a nosy parker.’

‘Be my guest!’ said Adair.
‘Mi casa es su casa.
The stairs are that way’ He indicated the door that led to the atrium, and disappeared in the direction of what Dervla took to be the bar. Yesterday he’d mentioned a games room as well as an entertainment suite.

As they climbed the impressive staircase, Dervla’s mind segued into estate-agent speak.

An outstanding contemporary-style home with spectacular coastal views…

‘Wow! Get a load of the chandelier!’ said Río, gawping at the steel and glass confection that was suspended from the ceiling of the atrium. ‘I wonder, has there been much swinging out of that?’

Situated directly on a beach, with a 180-degree panoramic view taking in the whole of Lissamore Bay including Inishclare Island plus several miles of the Coolnamara Estuary…

Displayed upon a long windowsill was a row of starfish.

‘Have you ever seen starfish underwater?’ asked Río. ‘They’re actually hideously ugly. They look like big, misshapen fish fingers. I’m always scared they’re going to grab me.’

What was Río blathering on about? Dervla concentrated harder on her sales blurb in order to drown out her sister’s inane remarks.

The Villa Felicity
—No, that would never do. Río had been right when she’d said the name ought to be changed–but not to ‘Smugville’. Something Irish would be good. How about
Teach na Mara
–the house by the sea? Yes. Perfect!
Teach na Mara provides a unique opportunity to acquire a truly splendid contemporary-style home. With a bold design statement that compliments
—No, no! She was always getting that wrong! She had to remember to spell it ‘complements’ with an ‘e’…
that
complements
its sensitive coastal site and optimises natural light, this unique property works both visually and practically in a stunning coastal location…

‘Oh, look! A nautilus shell!’ cried Río, pointing at a delicate, whorled shell in a glass case. ‘They’re
incredibly
rare. I wonder how much some dealer-in-endangered-marine-life palmed for that.’

But Dervla was too engrossed in her interior monologue to comment.
This two-storey building is on four split levels
, she
resumed, looking up before taking a mental photograph of the view of the atrium from the top of the stairs.
The house has a balance between open-plan and private spaces, with the spacious ground-floor drawing room opening onto a deck that provides one of the most breathtaking vistas in the West of Ireland and…
And? Framed by the enormous picture window on the landing, the sun was gilding the line of the horizon…
and gives a private position to take in the beautiful sunsets out over the sea and Lissamore Bay.