The Kinsella Sisters (37 page)

And then, as she headed home to shower and wash her hair, Río had had an idea so shocking she almost reeled. Was Adair Bolger doing this out of the goodness of his heart, or was he doing it because he had found out somehow that Río was the rightful
owner of the orchard he had pilfered by osmosis? Was he being Machiavellian? Word got round fast in rural communities, she knew–especially when it came to land deals–and Adair had powerful contacts. Dervla had mentioned something about Izzy taking over the Villa Felicity and turning it into some kind of hostel, but Río hadn’t really been paying attention. Now she wished she had. Was Adair wooing her because of her newly acquired status as a landowner? Did he hope to persuade her to sell?

No! This lady was not for turning.

The tranch of land by the Villa Felicity was Río’s and no one else’s. It was hers to cherish and to nurture and adore. It was hers to laze in on a summer’s day and pick apples in autumn and plant seedlings in spring. Mr Bigshot Developer would not get his hands on that orchard, no matter how persuasive he was.

And as Río hooked on her earrings and slipped her feet into her red shoes, she found herself hoping that actually, it wasn’t the land he was interested in. For some reason she rather hoped that–as Dervla had intimated–Adair Bolger might possibly be interested in her.

That evening, Río and Finn walked to the party. She didn’t want to drive, and she suspected that her son might be invited to stay over by pretty little Izzy.

She hadn’t told Finn about her inheritance yet. She still hadn’t come to terms with it herself. ‘When are you moving in with Carl?’ she asked as they walked along the road out of town. Nature had painted the landscape in hues of copper and bronze, with here and there a splash of scarlet, and leaves had started to float down from the trees. ‘You know if you stay in the duplex downstairs for much longer, Finn, Dervla will have to start charging you rent.’

‘I’ll move next week,’ Finn told her. ‘But, Ma, I don’t think I’ll be living with Carl for very long.’

‘What? Why not? He’s your best mate.’

‘Yeah, but something’s come up. Something that could be quite big.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Izzy and I are thinking about starting up a dive outfit together.’

‘You said something about that last week. I assumed it was one of those “What if…?” games that never get off the ground.’

‘It’s real, Ma. We really want to go for it.’

Uh-oh. Río had a dilemma here. On the one hand she didn’t want to dissuade Finn; on the other, the notion that Isabella was part of the equation filled her with fear and loathing. When she had told Shane that she’d love Finn to set up a dive outfit in Lissamore, she’d pictured him and Carl messing about in boats, not Finn and the Bolger girl.

‘Well, good for you! I mean, I think it’s a great idea, Finn. But don’t you think that if you’re serious about this, it would be better to go into business with Carl? Carl’s rock solid, and you know him a lot better than Izzy.’

‘Carl has no money.’

‘You have money,’ Río pointed out. ‘Your father’s offer was very generous.’

‘I know, Ma. But it’s not enough.’

‘Even if you go to the bank?’

‘You know how cagey they are about giving out loans these days. And the brilliant thing is that Izzy has asked her dad if he’d back us. He’s said yes.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Yeah. With Carl I can only go so far. With Izzy, we can operate a five-star PADI outfit with totally up-to-date equipment.’

‘You’re…involved with each other, aren’t you?’ Río focused on the evening star, Venus, who was just twinkling her way up above the horizon to the east.

‘Um. Yeah. Kind of’

‘It’s never a good idea to go into a business partnership with someone you’re involved with romantically, Finn.’

‘So what am I supposed to do? Turn round to Izzy and say, “Doh, I don’t think we can swing this because I like you”? I’d have thought that was a plus, to get on as well with your business partner as I get on with Izzy. She’s dead smart, Ma, and she can get us a backer. She’s even got premises in mind. Let me give you a clue. Two letters. V.F.’

‘Not the Villa Felicity?’

‘Got it in one! Wouldn’t it be brilliant! You’ve always said that it looks more like a club house than a place where people live.’

There was no stopping Finn now.

‘I was talking to Iz earlier, and she’s got it all figured out. The Villa Felicity’s got just about everything we need–it’s a dead cert! There’s even a pool for confined water work. And we can custom-build a kit room to our own spec’

‘In the garden?’

‘No. We’ll need an air room as well, and it would be a shame to build in the garden.’

‘So where are you thinking of building?’

‘In the old orchard.’

Inside Río’s gut, an icicle started to form. ‘You know there’s a right of way down to the beach through there,’ she said.

‘Yeah. But that shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll just have to get good security. Who’d want to steal a load of scuba gear, anyway?’

Quite a lot of people, thought Río. There’d been a spate of thefts of outboard motors in Coolnamara recently, but that problem wasn’t high on her list of concerns right now. ‘What about the orchard?’ she asked.

‘What about it?’

‘You’d have to pull down trees.’

‘Ma, I know you have a sentimental attachment to that place, but this is my future we’re talking about.’

They had reached the main gate to the Villa Felicity. It stood open in welcome.

‘We’ll talk about this another time, Finn,’ Río told him. ‘It’s not appropriate to discuss it now.’

‘Oh, yeah. I forgot. You’re supposed to be surprised by this party. Why do you think Izzy’s dad is doing this for you, Ma?’

‘I honestly have no idea.’ Río realised that it was the second time that day she’d uttered those words with regard to Adair Bolger. And as she walked down the path that ran parallel to the orchard she heard the wind soughing in the branches of the trees that had grown there for decades, and she steeled herself for confrontation–pleasant or otherwise–and pulled the lapels of her black cashmere cardigan as close as she could for comfort.

‘What a lovely surprise!’ Río said, a handful of minutes later, as she stood on Adair’s deck listening to people singing ‘Happy Birthday, Dear Río’. ‘Oh, Adair, you really, really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble!’

The place looked amazing. Adair had followed her suggestions to the letter, and staged this party just as she had described it to him the day she’d come up with her inspired idea of how to transform the Villa Felicity into the kind of house that people would yearn to live in. The only discrepancy was that the white-clothed table in the middle of the deck was set for dinner for ten, as opposed to a dozen.

Upon it gleamed the same crystal and silverware that Izzy had laid out the day she’d entertained Río and Dervla to lunch, but the table this evening had been scattered with flower petals and littered with presents, all of which, she saw now, bore her name. There were countless wine bottles lined up on a trestle table on the other side of the deck, and the hot tub had been drained and filled with ice and beer and bottles of champagne. There were candles everywhere, and flowers, and a stage had been rigged for musicians.

Adair handed her a glass of fizz. ‘Sit down and open your presents,’ he said.

Part of Río wanted to throw her arms around the man and thank him for this absurdly generous gesture, and part of her wanted to send a stinging slap across his face and denounce him as a devious, land-grabbing louse. She was too confused to do either. Instead, she sat down at the table and did as he’d instructed.

First out of its wrapping was a pashmina, in a shade of poppy red that almost exactly matched her dress. She smiled her thanks, and draped it round her shoulders.

Next was a gift pack containing a Jo Malone candle and body lotion in her favourite fragrance, grapefruit. Had he asked Fleur to advise him? If so, it was very astute of him. Very astute, or wonderfully thoughtful…

Jo Malone was followed by Monty Don and David Attenborough and Nigella–all ready to take pride of place on her coffee table. Then came the CDs. Donal Lunny and Sharon Shannon and Zoe Conway. And there were cards, lots and lots of them, all with ‘Happy Birthday’ written in different handwriting, and all wishing her well, and by the time Río had finished unwrapping her presents, giftwrap and ribbon were festooned all over Adair Bolger’s deck, and the champagne had gone straight to her head.

She couldn’t have staged it better herself.

Izzy had been careful to stand very close to Finn when he was introduced to foxy little Megan Vaughan. ‘Paws off,’ said her body language. There was something about the girl that was aloof yet alarmingly predatory at the same time, and Izzy determined not to let her guard slip for a minute.

She had managed to inveigle Finn into the downstairs shower room before dinner, where they had shared such an intense kiss that Izzy’s appetite had come bouncing right back. Her place was at the right-hand side of her father, who was seated at the top of the table. Río was at the other end, directly opposite, looking flagrant in scarlet silk.

The food served up by the caterers was so mouthwateringly good that Izzy decided she might try and head-hunt the chef once she’d got her business up and running. They had steamed mussels with watercress sauce to start, followed by parsnip and honey soup. The main course was saffron risotto with grilled sardines and a green salad, and pudding was bitter chocolate sorbet with raspberries. Blue Mountain coffee was served afterwards, and cognac for those who wanted it, and then the table was cleared as guests started to arrive for the main event, which was, of course, music and dancing.

As hostess, Izzy was kept busy. Her
savoir-faire
–courtesy of
her mother–was the one thing for which Izzy was grateful to Felicity. Izzy knew she had considerable charm, and she used it to great effect.

She spoke to Devla Kinsella about property, and expressed an interest in the logistics of conversion work. Could she introduce Izzy to a bespoke carpenter? Which design consultant would she recommend? When Dervla put forward her sister, Río, as a potential design guru, Izzy feigned enthusiasm.

She spoke to Christian about his wine importing business, and suggested that he supply the restaurant of her scuba-dive centre. He knew a chateau in the Loire that could provide an exceptional house white, he told her, and he’d be delighted to draw up a sample wine list for her.

She spoke to Fleur about Fleurissima, and told her it was her favourite shop in the whole world–better than anything Dublin had to offer. She had admired Fleur’s dress (Bill Blass) and her shoes (Freelance) and her bag (vintage) and her scent (Chanel No. 5). Of course! How classic! Incidentally, would Fleur be able to recommend someone who could design staff T-shirts for her? Why, yes, indeed. Fleur could recommend her partner, Conrad.

Having pocketed Conrad’s card, and crooked a finger under Babette’s chin (Babette was dressed for the occasion this evening in a diamante collar), Izzy noticed that Mrs Vaughan senior was sitting on her own on a seat in the garden, under a patio heater. The old lady had clearly elected to distance herself from the hurly-burly of the party, so Izzy decided that it would be a charitable thing to keep her company for a while. She sought Finn out to tell him that she was going to spend some quality time with Mrs V.

‘Aren’t you sweet!’ said Finn. ‘To spend time with a little old lady when you could be dancing with me!’

‘I’d rather slow dance with you later,’ Izzy replied, with a minxy smile.

She fluttered across the deck like a white butterfly, gracing
guests with compliments and smiles (an especially saccharine smile was bestowed upon Megan), and lit next to Mrs Vaughan on her bench under the patio heater.

‘Good evening! We didn’t get a chance to talk earlier. I’m Izzy’

‘Izzy! What sort of a name is that?’ said Mrs Vaughan.

‘It’s short for Isabella.’

‘Is a bell necessary on a bicycle?’ said Mrs Vaughan, and Izzy gave a tinkling laugh.

‘That’s a good one all right!’ she said.

‘Do you like my trousers?’ asked Mrs Vaughan.

Izzy nodded a polite assent. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘They’re lovely!’

‘I got them in Ireland, I think. You should get yourself a pair.’

‘I–well–I could have a look for them,’ said Izzy, uncertainly. ‘I could ask Fleur, who has a boutique in the village. She might be able to help.’

‘What village?’

‘Lissamore.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Well, it’s–kind of where we are now. Just down the road.’

I see.

‘It’s a lovely party, isn’t it?’ said Izzy, manfully.

‘Yes. What are we celebrating?’

‘It’s a birthday party’

‘Congratulations,’ carrolled Mrs V. ‘That’s Cliff Richard, you know. I love Cliff Richard.’

‘Yes. His music is very…accessible.’

‘What are those people doing?’

From beyond the sea wall, came the sound of a couple making out
con brio. Izzy
ignored the question, and tried to think of another topic of conversation. The weather! Of course. ‘The weather’s—’

‘Are they having sex?’ demanded Mrs Vaughan. ‘It’s very overrated, you know, sex.’

‘The weather’s changed a bit for the worse, hasn’t it?’ said Izzy
hurriedly. ‘Such a shame, after our glorious Indian summer. It’s definitely got a lot cooler.’ ‘Cooler, cooler…’

Some time later, Izzy staggered back onto the deck, feeling as though she’d been over an assault course. She very much wanted to find Finn and fling herself into his arms, but there were two more people she needed to talk to before she could relax and enjoy the party.

The first person she wanted to sweet-talk was her father. The second was Río Kinsella.

She found the former in the kitchen, settling up with the caterers. ‘Hello, Daddy, darling!’ she sang, linking his arm as the caterers backed off, practically salaaming after clocking the tip they’d received. ‘Let’s take a stroll’

‘I couldn’t think of anything nicer,’ said Adair, dropping a kiss on her forehead, ‘than an evening stroll through the garden with my gorgeous girl on my arm.’

They walked through the atrium and headed for the orchard.

‘I’m sorry Lucy couldn’t come,’ remarked Adair.

Izzy hadn’t actually invited Lucy to the party, but she wasn’t going to tell her dad that.

‘Yeah. It’s an awful shame,’ she said. ‘But she felt she had to stay in Dublin to be agony aunt to a friend who’s going through a really rough time.’

‘Oh? What’s happened?’

Izzy paused for dramatic effect before launching into a pre-prepared spiel. ‘Well, this friend–her name’s Sarah–met a boy that she really really liked. And Sarah’s dad’s divorced, and so is this boy’s mum. And when she introduced her dad to the mum, they fell madly in love.’

‘The parents did? That’s lovely!’ said Adair.

‘No, it’s not,’ said Izzy, in the manner of an infant school teacher. ‘You see, Sarah and Paul–Sarah’s boyfriend’s called Paul
–were so mortified by the whole thing that they had to break up. Sarah’s inconsolable.’

‘Why?’

‘She just couldn’t hack the idea of her father and Paul’s mother being a couple.’

‘Why–why not?’

‘Oh, come on, Dad! Just
think
what it would be like for a girl to be involved with a guy whose mother was having a thing with her own father? Ew,
ew!
It’s so icky it’s almost incestuous. What if there were babies? I mean, imagine if Paul’s mother got pregnant? Would the baby be her sister or brother as well as being Paul’s sister or brother? It’s just really, really hard for poor Sarah to even contemplate the idea of her father having sex with her boyfriend’s mother. I mean–
ew!
It gives me the shivers to even think what it must be like to be in her situation.’ Izzy shook her head mournfully. ‘Poor, poor Sarah. Lucy’s doing her best, but she thinks she might need medical help.’

‘You mean, the girl might have to go on anti-depressants?’

‘Yes. And get counselling too, probably. The whole thing’s messed her up, bigtime. Without Paul, her life’s a meaningless void.’

‘That’s–that’s a dreadful story.’

‘Yes. Isn’t it?’

Izzy’s ringtone went. ‘Oh! Sorry, Dad. I’m going to have to take this. It’s Lucy. She’s probably looking for some advice.’

‘Yes, you go ahead and take that call, darling. Dear God–that’s a dreadful story!’

And Adair turned and walked back into the house, looking bewildered.

Izzy hung up on her caller (it was a private number; she never picked up on private numbers, but she thanked the anonymous caller for his excellent timing), and went off on the next stage of her mission, which was to find Río.

The scarlet woman had discarded her shoes and was sitting
by the pool. Her feet were dangling in the petal-strewn water and she was sipping champagne, doubtless waiting for her host to come along so that she could flirt with him again.

‘Hi, Río!’ said Izzy, sitting down beside her. Río choked a little on her champagne, and Izzy banged her on the back. ‘Oops! Careful. That happened to my friend Paul recently, and he choked so hard that champagne came out of his nose. He thought he was going to die, but then that wouldn’t have been so bad because he actually really
did
want to die.’

‘Oh?’ said Río, recovering. ‘Was he suffering from depression?’

‘Yeah. He was going through a really rough time.’

‘What happened?’

‘Well, Paul had met a girl, Sarah, who he really really liked. And Paul’s mum’s divorced, and so is Sarah’s dad. And when he introduced his mum to the dad, they fell madly in love. Madly being the operative word, at their age.’

‘I think that’s rather lovely,’ said Río, cautiously.

‘No, it’s
not,’
said Izzy categorically. ‘You see, Paul was so mortified by the whole thing that he and Sarah had to break up. He was inconsolable. Neither of them could hack the idea of their parents being a couple.’

‘Why–why not?’

‘Oh, Río! Just
think
what it would be like for a guy to be involved with a girl whose mother was having a thing with his own father? Ew,
ew!
It’s so icky it’s almost incestuous. Anyway, Paul knew that his mother didn’t even like Sarah very much. Can you imagine what it would be like for them to have to do family stuff together–you know, holidays and Sunday dinners and Christmas and all that jazz? And the other thing is that it’s just really, really hard for poor Paul to even contemplate the idea of his mother having sex with Sarah’s father. I mean–
ew!
It gives me the shivers to even think what it must be like to be in his situation.’ Izzy shook her head mournfully. ‘Poor, poor Paul. He’s on anti-depressants, and he’s probably going to have to get
counselling too. The whole thing’s messed him up, bigtime. Without Sarah, his life’s a meaningless void.’

Izzy was just about to congratulate herself on her performance, when she clocked the expression on Río’s face. The woman was looking back at her with a kind of understanding that made Izzy feel…petty. Worse than that, she felt ashamed. She felt as ashamed and worthless as she had when her mother had told her ‘Don’t!’
Don’t make a mess! Don’t fiddle with your hair! Don’t get your dress dirty!
But her mother had never said the word ‘Don’t’ gently, the way Río was saying it now, with her eyes.

‘That’s a dreadful story,’ murmured Río.

‘Yes. Isn’t it?’ Izzy hardened her heart. If she started backtracking now it would be like unravelling a tapestry.

‘D’you know something, Izzy?’ said Río. ‘There’s a lot that I’d love to be able to—’

But just then Adair came round the corner, swinging a bottle of champagne. ‘Oh, hi, Dad!’ said Izzy brightly. ‘I was just telling Río that awful story about Sarah and Paul’ There was a pause, as the three of them looked at each other. Then Izzy jumped to her feet. ‘Well, I’ll leave you two to enjoy your champers. I’d better go and find Finn. We’re going to wander round the house and dream-build. Gorm Mhór is going to be sooooo beautiful!’

‘Gorm Mhór?’ echoed Adair, uncertainly.

‘Our dive centre, of course! The Big Blue!’

And, mission accomplished, Izzy danced off in the direction of the deck.

Río was in the downstairs bathroom, trying to resist the temptation to bury her face in Adair’s robe so that she could breathe in Acqua di Parma. She was feeling very confused, and it wasn’t just from a surfeit of champagne. She was confused about her feelings for Adair, and she was confused about the whole thing with Finn and Izzy, and she was confused about the land issue and how she was going to resolve it.

Oh, how she wanted her orchard! But if Finn was dead set on going ahead with this Gorm Mhór idea, she wanted to be able to help him out too. If he and Izzy needed to build on part of the land in order to realise their dream, she couldn’t be the one responsible for thwarting them. However, on anticipating the expression on Izzy’s face when she found out that Río had the power to veto any building on the orchard of which she did not approve, she couldn’t help but break into a smile. It was petty of her, she knew, to think about scoring points, but after the treatment meted out to her by Adair’s daughter, it felt good to have the upper hand for a change. Arra, what the hell–she’d think about all that tomorrow. After all, as her heroine Scarlett O’Hara had said, tomorrow was another day. She was sure they could come to some compromise.

And yet, and yet…her smile faltered when she recalled Izzy’s story about the guy whose dad had fallen for his girlfriend’s mother. If she and Adair did hook up–and the idea had become more and more attractive to her–she’d not just be opening a can of worms, she’d be disturbing a whole nest of vipers. Izzy had started making hissy noises, although, to Río’s ear, the hiss was more like a kitten’s than a snake’s.

She suspected that the girl’s story was just a cautionary tale concocted as a warning to Río to back off. She had a point. The thought of padding down to breakfast someplace and bumping into Finn and Izzy after having just left Adair’s bed was wildly inappropriate. She couldn’t–
wouldn’t–
subject Finn to such mortification. It was the kind of scenario you’d find in a Feydeau farce or a Greek tragedy–and look what happened to all those old Greeks: murdered in their baths and killed by their own hands and sacrificed to indifferent gods.

Río moved to the mirror to check out her reflection. She’d made an effort to look good tonight, and she knew she’d made that effort for Adair. But any possibility of a relationship was out of the question now. Things had become far, far too complicated.