‘Martha needs us to run that errand for her today. Could we go first thing?’
His green eyes were different too, as though the shine had been taken right out of their surface. He ran his hand roughly down his face and nodded.
‘Your money, boss. What’s the errand?’
April heard a door slam behind her and opening the van door, she leaned in quickly. She could hear Orla’s little steps on the path, and she didn’t want her to hear.
‘Cillian, what’s wrong with you lately? Is it because of the other night? I’m sorry if I overst—’
‘Why did you leave?’ he said simply, not even looking at her. ‘I woke up and you were gone.’
April couldn’t help but show the shock on her face, and Cillian’s face closed down even further when he looked at her.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he practically growled, as Orla reached them. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll be back to pick you up.’
She didn’t argue, turning to smile at Orla as she stepped aside for the little girl to get in.
‘Have a good day, Orla. Pinky will be doing a bit of work with me, so he’ll be fine.’ Orla gave her the cutest little grin, and she melted. This kid was such a cutie. Like her dad, she couldn’t help but think. ‘See you soon, Cillian.’
She heard something that sounded like a grunt, and after closing the van doors she watched as they drove away. The curious excitement she had harboured about today was useless now. They had a million and one tiny little things to get sorted before they opened, and after the other night she had been excited about their … whatever it was, too. But now? She just didn’t get it. What was his problem?
She checked on reception, diverting the phones to answer machine for when they went out. She needed to get a tablet at some point, so that she could book people in even when she wasn’t sat in the reception hut, but that was a moot point when she was too chicken to use her smartphone yet. She’d left it turned off since Cillian had sent her that picture. Another little thing on the huge towering pile of errands and tasks to wade through. She hadn’t even been to the beach since the first day, and the thought depressed her. She knew things would get better, but when? The few people she knew around here were all acting pretty strangely, lost in their own inner struggles. It came to something when she was the only sane one around.
Heading to the games room, she checked in on the installation of the equipment and took a flask of tea down for the workers. She had been taught well to look after people she worked with, and it came second nature to her now. It made her feel wanted, and special, and seen. Everything she hadn’t felt since Duncan left, since Mum died and left her alone in the big bad world. Whatever Cillian’s deal was, she felt sure that she hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d been polite, grateful, and hadn’t left a mess. She didn’t understand how they could go from that night to talking like they did this morning. The more she replayed it in her head, the more it baffled and perplexed her.
She headed to chalet 9, which was still bare bones after being cleaned out and freshened up. In the centre of the dining room table was a pile of sheets and cushions, and on the floor were two boxes of freshly cleaned utensils, pans, et cetera. This was the fun part, putting the chalets together, but as she worked she just got mad. She just got madder and madder. Falling asleep together that night had surprised her, but that morning, when she woke it had felt so natural. The feel of his arm around her, protective and loving, made her want to weep now. She hadn’t realised how much she had missed the feeling of being held, and it boiled her blood that he’d tainted it. He’d taken a precious little moment and ruined it with his sore bear head and petulant grunting.
She was onto her fourth kitchen cupboard when she heard his van come up the drive. She’d come to learn the noise of his engine, the path he took to his chalet. It felt comforting normally; hearing his van meant he was back. Another steady pair of hands, and Orla wasn’t a bit of bother. Quiet, ever watching but no bother. Usually his little van noises made her smile. Her heartbeat quickened even to see Orla’s little pieces of art, Martha ever praising as Cillian looked on. Every inch the bashful, proud dad.
Now hearing his wheels drive into Shady Pines, she felt something else. Anger. Rage. It was the time of month where she felt pretty crappy anyway, but this was anger now. She’d had enough of trying to gauge people’s moods while hiding her own. It was time to stick to the plan and be the master of her own life. Cillian be damned. Putting some serving dishes onto one of the shelves, she locked up and went out to meet him.
Martha was standing next to him as he leaned against his van. He was shaking his head vigorously at her, but she wasn’t having any of it.
‘Everything okay?’ April half shouted, feeling strangely jealous that they were as thick as thieves with each other. She swallowed down her anxiety and dusted off her anger at the grunting Neanderthal she had apparently employed.
‘Yes,’ Martha acknowledged her first. ‘I was just filling Cillian here in on my little request.’ Cillian looked at her but didn’t say anything. Martha frowned at him, but thankfully let it go too. April couldn’t help but blush when she thought of her failed early morning flit from Cillian’s. ‘Games room all done?’
‘Yes, getting there. The lads are
