Cillian nodded as he ripped off a hunk of bread from his side plate and slathered it in butter. ‘Nice little family place, good food and drink, nothing rowdy.’
‘The pub idea again? I was thinking nice big dryers and decent washing machines. Been thinking about it a lot, have you? The whole shebang?’ she teased, pleased that she had him on her side. She still shuddered to think what she would have been like without him. She had an image of her and Martha sitting in matching cardboard boxes, tethered to the rocks to avoid being blown off the end of the point as they slept, shivering and crying. She brushed the thought away, glancing down at the gallery pack she’d been given.
‘Some. Tim really did a number on the place. It was sad to see it go downhill. I stayed on as long as I could, but the hours were dropping and I needed the money.’
She started looking for the salt pot, and he held it out to her in his hand.
‘Here.’
‘Thanks. Err—?’
He was already holding out the pepper to her.
‘Yep, that too, thanks.’
‘Welcome. So I left, but I always kept an eye on the place.’
She took the pot from him, seasoning her food and tucking back in with a delighted squeak.
‘And by that particular set of eyes you mean Martha, right?’ She leaned back in her chair, letting her stomach rest a second so that she could finish. The portions were lush and huge, which was great, but not for a woman who had been living off snacks and quick bites for weeks. The heartbreak diet. ‘It’s a great idea, for the future. I need the next few seasons to go well, to survive the winters, and get the place how I want it.’
He nodded, his mouth full.
‘Luke was nice, wasn’t he? Do you think she’ll go and see him, show him some work?’
Cillian shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but I feel like we will soon enough. Martha’s not one to mince her words, is she? She’s been sketching loads, so that’s a start. Losing Charlie hit her hard.’
April nodded. She knew the loss of a husband herself, although in her case she would happily have buried him under the patio to avoid what happened. She couldn’t imagine being separated from a soul mate by death. It seemed like one of life’s cruelties, and she had endured enough of them.
‘Where did you go?’ he asked, touching her hand with his across the table. ‘You okay?’
She ran her thumb along the length of his, before pulling away and reaching for something in her bag. ‘I haven’t turned my phone on yet, not since you sent me that picture.’ Cillian’s brows shot up to his hairline, but he didn’t say anything. ‘I daren’t really. I’m a chicken, I know.’
‘I didn’t tell my ex where her daughter was till I could get a court order in place to stop her from seeing her own child,’ he said, monotone. ‘I think chicken is a strong word for you. Do it now,’ he suggested. ‘Turn it on, put it on silent. Delete what you can’t cope with. You need a phone. Once the park’s open you won’t want to be glued to the landlines. You’ll be busy enough.’
It made perfect sense, and they both knew it. If they were to get Martha back painting, neither of them would have the time to be stuck to the reception desk all day. Maybe once she had guests coming in, paying good money, she could hire a receptionist. A local who loved the place and knew all the local highlights and must-see attractions. She put the handset on the table, pushing it into the centre with one finger as though it was a loaded trap.
‘Maybe after lunch,’ she lied feebly. Cillian arched a brow before shovelling a fork full of salad greens into his mouth, his eyes near crossing as they both ripped into their food. After their morning, they were both ravenous.
‘Three,’ he said, swallowing his food and placing his index finger on the power button of the phone.
‘You wouldn’t,’ she teased, half terrified, half intrigued by his change in mood.
‘Ah, never dare an O’Leary man. Two.’ His eyes locked with hers, and she put down her knife and fork.
‘Cillian?’
‘Yeeeeeesss?’
‘I’m scared,’ she admitted. ‘People might be mad. I did sort of leave in the middle of the night.’
‘Without telling anyone?’ he said, unable to keep the surprise in his voice. ‘No one?’
‘Yep.’
‘Not one person?’
She thought for a moment. After she’d left the baby shower, she’d gone straight home, emailed the estate agent of her mother’s house to tell him where she would leave the keys, and packed everything up. Hours later, she was on the road, everything she owned strapped to her mum’s old car.
‘Well, I told my mother, but I don’t think talking to ashes counts.’ She stabbed her fork a little bit too hard against her plate, and the noise set her teeth on edge. ‘Press it.’
He bit the corner of his lip, and then pushed his finger down onto the button. The phone sprang to life, lighting up as it ran through the boot-up. The welcome screen came and then—
‘Password.’ Cillian nudged it towards her with his hand, turning back to his food while she entered the code. It was her wedding anniversary. She cringed as she typed it. Once she was truly back in the land of the living, that would be the first thing to go. The photo of her and her mother on the beach popped up, and then the phone went haywire. Some of the other diners looked up, irritated, and April gave them apologetic looks as she turned the sound off. She was just starting to look at it when she felt Cillian’s hand on hers.
‘Not now. Leave it for a bit. Have lunch first. If you get upset here, you’ll make me cry, and no one here wants to see that. I have a very ugly
