The Summer of Serendipity: The magical feel good perfect holiday read Read online

  Looking across at Kiki, still fast asleep, I begin to feel a little drowsy myself. The hotel room is warm and comfortable, but I know if I fall asleep now I’ll find it hard to sleep tonight. Sleep and I have never been the best of friends, especially when I’m staying away from home – an occupational hazard in this job. So I decide to take a walk in the hotel grounds, reasoning that should keep me occupied and awake until Kiki’s finished her nap. Then the two of us can head out into the town for the evening.

  Reception is quiet as I arrive downstairs. I wave casually to Orla, standing behind the desk looking at her computer screen, then make my way outside and around the back of the hotel to the small garden we can see from our room.

  The garden is pretty, and as I wander along gravel paths I find rose bushes, cheery beds of spring flowers, and magnolia trees in full bloom. When I reach the bottom, I notice a small wooden gate in the red-brick wall that surrounds the garden. There’s no sign marking it as private, so I reach for the handle.

  I swing open the gate to find a narrow path with high hedges either side. It leads away from the hotel, but more than that I can’t tell, because the hedges block my view of what lies at the end of the path.

  I pause to think for a moment. Kiki will likely be asleep for some time, so why not do a little exploring? My decision made, I close the gate behind me and begin to follow the path.

  As I approach the end of the dusty track, I can see what looks like a farmyard in front of me. I’m about to step out from my enclosed walkway to investigate when a small red ball rolls past the entrance, followed by a large dog in hot pursuit. The dog leaps on the ball, picks it up and is about to make its way back towards its hidden owner, when it spots me. It immediately drops the ball and begins barking.

  ‘Hey, fella,’ I say, holding up my hand to try and calm it down. ‘It’s OK, I’m friendly, honestly.’

  But the dog keeps barking.

  ‘Fergus!’ I hear a male voice shout. ‘What are you . . . oh, it’s you,’ the voice says, as a familiar face pokes around the end of the hedge. ‘Fergus, stop it. Ren is friend not foe.’ Finn comes into full view, and he reaches down to pat the now much friendlier-looking dog – probably some sort of cross-breed by the look of his shaggy, multicoloured coat.

  ‘Sorry,’ I apologise. ‘I probably shouldn’t even be here. But there wasn’t a private sign on the gate back there.’

  ‘No, yer all right, that gate is a shortcut to the stables.’ He raises his arm, and I move forward so I can see what he’s pointing to.

  What I’d thought was a farmyard when I glimpsed it through the narrow opening is in fact a large square yard. Flanking the yard on three sides are rows of stable blocks, most of which are occupied by horses, who are all watching me with interest as I stare at them.

  ‘Oh wow,’ I say, as I look around. ‘I didn’t expect this.’

  ‘No, not many of the hotel guests do. The main entrance is off the road, up there –’ He points again. ‘The one that runs into Ballykiltara.’

  ‘And what sort of horses are they?’ I ask, looking at the many heads peering over stable doors.

  ‘Oh, the usual four-legged kind.’

  I glance at Finn. He’s watching me, obviously amused.

  ‘Ha ha, very funny. I mean, are they race horses?’

  He smiles again. ‘No, they’re only ponies. This is a riding stable, we take people out for treks – holidaymakers much of the time, but we have our regulars too.’

  ‘You run this as well?’ I ask, surprised he’s involved in this as well as the hotel.

  ‘No, Mac runs it – that’s the owner – well, part-owner, since the O’Connells bought in to this too.’

  I look at him for a few moments confused, then I remember: ‘Oh, the owners of the hotel? And didn’t you say they own the island too?’

  ‘That’s them – Dermot and Darcy. When they found out the stables were in trouble, they bought a share. That’s sort of why we have the path through from the hotel, for guests that want to ride while they’re here.’

  ‘Sounds like a good idea. So what do you do here?’

  ‘Ah, I pop in from time to time to see the horses – often when I’m supposed to be working.’ He goes over to one of the stalls and runs his hand along the nose of a chestnut mare, who according to the plaque outside her box is called Trixie. ‘The horses can be a darn sight nicer company than a lot of folk I know . . . ’ To my relief, he winks. I smile in return. ‘Do you ride?’ he asks, taking a treat from his pocket and feeding it to Trixie on the flat of his hand.

  I shake my head. ‘Not in a long, long time. I did for a while, when I was a child, but I fell off and got scared.’

  ‘Ah, that’s a shame. You could have gone out while you were here.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Sometimes,’ he says, patting Trixie and walking back towards me. ‘When I get the time.’

  Fergus barks suddenly and I jump.

  ‘Hush, Fergus, ya big eejit!’ Finn calls, patting his leg so Fergus comes to him.

  Fergus bounds over to me with his long pink tongue lolloping from the side of his mouth, and I jump again as something painful stirs deep within me.

  Finn grabs Fergus’s collar, obviously misinterpreting my jumpiness as fright. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you were afraid.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’ I try to explain: ‘I’m a bit wary, that’s all.’ This isn’t strictly true, but it’s a darn sight easier than trying to explain the real reason I’m wary around animals.

  ‘Calm down, Fergus,’ Finn tells him. ‘Shall I put him on a lead?’ He looks around. ‘I think there’s one here somewhere . . . ’

  ‘No, it’s fine. I’m fine.’

  ‘Walk you back then?’ Finn offers. ‘I was about to head back to the hotel myself.’

  ‘Sure,’ I agree, pleased to have company.

  Fergus races ahead of us down the path while Finn and I take our time following behind him. ‘So what did you and your friend get up to today?’ he asks as we stroll along.

  ‘We took a drive around the Ring of Tara,’ I tell him truthfully.

  ‘Very touristy,’ he replies, smiling.

  Finn has the most amazing set of teeth. You would think he’d had them straightened, polished and bleached to within an inch of their life to make them whiter than white. Except it’s hard to imagine Finn being that vain, so I have to assume he’s been blessed with a perfect, natural smile to match the rest of his rather pleasing exterior.

  ‘Yeah, well, when in Rome!’

  ‘Most of the locals only drive that road when they absolutely have to. They’d never drive it for pleasure.’

  ‘What would you suggest we do then?’ I ask, slightly irked by his apparent snub.

  ‘Go for a walk in the mountains, away from the gift shops and tearooms. Take a boat trip on one of the lakes. Go pony trekking on one of our four-legged friends back there. All much more enjoyable than sitting in a car or a bus all day, getting out where you’re told to every few minutes.’

  ‘You don’t much like doing what you’re told, do you?’ I ask, wanting to get my own back. ‘In fact, I’d go so far as to say you’re a bit of a rebel.’

  Finn’s green eyes twinkle as he looks at me. ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘Oh, where do I begin?’ I hold up my hand and pretend to count on my fingers. ‘Let’s start with your blatant disregard for hotel uniform, then there’s your visits to the stables when you’re supposed to be working, and . . . ’

  ‘No, don’t,’ he says with a wave of his hand. ‘I don’t think my employers would be too happy if after one day a guest at the hotel knew all that about me. Even such a perceptive one as yourself.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I smile at him, and I’m surprised to find I’m secretly pleased he thinks this. ‘So what are you up to tonight?’ I ask, meaning at the hotel.

  ‘Are you asking me out, Miss Parker?’ Finn asks, pressing his hand to his chest dramatically. ‘How very modern of you!�
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  ‘Oh, I . . . I meant at the hotel,’ I say, my face flushing red. ‘I assumed you’d be on duty, like last night.’

  ‘Ah . . . of course you do.’ He drops his head sadly, then looks up at me and winks. ‘Yes, I knew you meant that, I was only teasing.’

  ‘Good,’ I nod hurriedly. ‘I’m glad.’

  Finn looks back out into the hotel garden. ‘Actually, I’m not on duty this evening,’ he says casually.

  ‘Oh, do you have something nice planned? Sorry,’ I swiftly apologise as Finn glances at me. ‘Obviously, that’s none of my business.’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ Finn replies, equally fast. ‘Do you?’

  ‘My friend and I were going to go into town. Kiki is keen to hear some traditional Irish music.’

  ‘Nice. Where are you going?’

  We’ve reached the gate again, and Finn steps forward to open it for me.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, passing through the brick archway back into the hotel garden. ‘I’m not too sure yet. We thought we’d wander around until we find something we like the look of.’

  ‘Can I recommend The Raven’s Knowledge? Bit of an odd name, but both the food and the music are excellent.’

  ‘Thanks, we’ll look out for it.’

  ‘And will you be partaking in another pint of Guinness tonight?’ Finn asks, teasingly.

  ‘I will, but I doubt Kiki will be joining me.’

  Finn nods knowingly. ‘I knew the moment I saw you you’d enjoy a pint of the black stuff.’

  ‘How could you possibly know that?’

  We’ve reached the door that leads into the hotel, and Finn pauses before opening it.

  ‘It’s the Celtic in you,’ he says, without explaining further. He pulls the door open and waits for me to enter.

  ‘What do you mean, the Celtic in me?’ I demand, making no move to go through the door.

  ‘Fiery temperament, have you?’ Finn asks.

  I shrug. ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘How red is that hair of yours naturally?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask, reaching up and absent-mindedly touching my hair.

  ‘Come on, Ren, that’s not your natural colour now, is it?’

  He was right. My natural colour was full-on ginger, but I regularly went to a hairdresser and had it toned down to a more manageable auburn.

  ‘No, it’s not. But what’s that to do with anything?’

  Finn wiggles his finger in front of my nose. ‘And what about all these freckles here, and your whiter-than-white skin? It all adds up to you being Celtic in my eyes.’

  I’m about to continue this conversation when Donal appears at the open door. ‘Oh, Finn, it’s you,’ he says, sounding a tad annoyed. ‘I thought the door had been left open by a guest. You know what a chill wind blows through here at this time of the year.’

  ‘Yes, sorry, Donal.’ Finn turns to me and rolls his eyes.

  ‘Now that I’ve found you, Finn,’ Donal begins, but then he notices me standing on the other side of the open door. ‘Oh good afternoon, Miss Parker, I didn’t see you there.’

  ‘Hi again.’

  ‘Your friend was down in reception looking for you,’ Donal says. ‘I had no idea you were out here in the gardens or I’d have sent her this way.’

  ‘I was showing Ren the stables,’ Finn says. ‘She’s thinking of going for a ride one day.’

  I flash my eyes at him.

  ‘Oh really?’ Donal says. ‘I can’t say I understand the fascination with riding horses myself, but if that’s what you enjoy then I’m sure Cormac will look after you well.’

  ‘Cormac?’

  ‘Mac is his nickname,’ Finn explains. ‘Everyone calls him that.’

  ‘Names were bestowed upon us to be used, Finn,’ Donal insists. ‘Not to be shortened.’

  Finn shakes his head.

  ‘I’d better be getting back inside to find Kiki,’ I tell them both. ‘She’ll be wondering where I am.’

  Donal does his trademark tiny bow, while Finn continues holding the door for me. ‘Enjoy your night out,’ he says as I pass him.

  I turn towards his voice and find our faces are inches away from each other.

  ‘Thank you, I will,’ I whisper, and to my annoyance I’m sure I feel my legs wobble, before I hurry down the corridor to find Kiki.

  Six

  ‘So what were the two of you doing wandering hand in hand in the garden earlier?’ Kiki asks as we walk along Ballykiltara’s high street towards The Raven’s Knowledge. ‘I saw you through the window.’

  ‘If you were looking out of the window, and not just surmising because I told you I bumped into Finn, then you’d know we were not wandering hand in hand, we were simply walking through the gardens together on our way back to the hotel.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Kiki says, nudging me. ‘And the rest.’

  I stop walking and grab her arm. ‘Look, I know you like to romanticise everything and always see hearts and flowers everywhere, but like I told you before, I bumped into him at the stables and we walked back to the hotel together. That. Is. It.’

  ‘Touch-eey!’ Kiki says, looking down at my hand on her arm – which I quickly remove. ‘We both know that means— OK, OK,’ she says as I glare at her. She pulls an imaginary zip across her lips. ‘I won’t mention Finn’s name any more tonight.’

  ‘Good.’ I look up at the sign over the pub we’re standing in front of. ‘Oh, it looks like we’ve found it.’

  The Raven’s Knowledge, even with its slightly odd name, is what I imagine a typical Irish pub to be. Whether it’s deliberately designed that way to please the tourists – and I’d say about 70 per cent of the people in here tonight are just that – or whether the dark oak panels, antique sporting prints, and carved wooden furniture are indeed genuine, is difficult to say, but what is definitely genuine from the moment we walk through the doors is the welcome we receive.

  ‘Evening, ladies,’ a small middle-aged barman greets us as we head over to the bar. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Hmm . . . ’ Kiki scans the assortment of alcohol behind the bar. ‘Do you have any WKD?’

  ‘No, I’m sorry we don’t stock that.’

  ‘Smirnoff Ice then?’

  The barman looks behind him at the shelves.

  ‘Sorry, no.’

  ‘Kopparberg?’

  ‘That’s cider, yes?’ the barman says hopefully.

  ‘Yep. Do you have some?’

  ‘No, we don’t, but we do have Magners. It’s an Irish cider,’ he adds when Kiki doesn’t immediately respond.

  Kiki thinks about this. ‘You know what, I think I’ll have a vodka and orange.’

  ‘Orange juice or Club Orange?’

  ‘Do I have to be in the Club to drink it?’

  ‘If you are, I’d better leave the vodka out, eh?’ the barman jokes, and I smile.

  ‘What does he mean, Ren?’ Kiki asks, confused.

  ‘She means orange juice,’ I tell the barman.

  He nods gratefully and turns to begin pouring the drink.

  ‘Club Orange is a type of orange drink you only get in Ireland,’ I explain for Kiki’s benefit.

  ‘Oh . . . oh, now I get it!’ Kiki says with relief as the penny drops.

  The barman brings Kiki’s drink over to us, then he looks with concern at me, probably wondering if my order will be as complicated.

  ‘I’ll have a—’

  ‘She’ll have a Guinness,’ someone finishes off for me. ‘And make it a pint too, Brendan.’

  ‘Sure thing, Finn,’ Brendan says, pulling a pint-glass from below the counter.

  I turn to find Finn standing behind us, casually drinking from a glass.

  ‘Finn!’ Kiki calls out, then she slaps her hand over her mouth. ‘Whoops, sorry!’

  Finn, wearing jeans and a checked shirt similar to the ones we’ve seen him in at the hotel, looks puzzled.

  ‘Ren said I wasn’t allowed to mention your name this evening,’ she blu
rts out without thinking, then looks between us. ‘Ah, I’ve done it again, haven’t I?’ She grimaces as she grabs her vodka and orange from the bar. ‘Awkward!’

  ‘Is that right, Ren?’ Finn asks, looking to me for clarification.

  ‘Er, yes, sort of . . . ’ I struggle for an answer. ‘What I actually said was, it would be nice to talk to someone new tonight – we’ve only met people from the hotel so far, you see?’

  Finn doesn’t look entirely convinced, but does a good job of hiding it.

  ‘Then I shall take my leave of you, ladies. I wouldn’t want to cramp your style.’ He turns and takes a few steps away from us.

  ‘No . . . Finn,’ I jump down from the bar stool I’ve been perched on and scamper in his direction. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, catching up with him. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude. Kiki got the wrong end of the stick, that’s all. She gets a bit confused sometimes.’

  Finn turns and I’m relieved to see he’s smiling.

  ‘Let’s put it down to the language barrier, eh?’ he says, then looks over my shoulder at the bar, where Brendan has my drink waiting for me. ‘Now, you’d better be collecting that pint of yours – there’s letting it rest and there’s wasting it!’

  We spend the rest of the evening at the pub. I continue to drink Guinness and Kiki sticks to her vodka. Finn diligently sticks to soft drinks all night because he’s on duty early tomorrow morning, but we have a lovely time either chatting amongst ourselves, or with locals who Finn introduces us to. We manage to order some pub food before the band comes on, which I’m grateful for. I’d been beginning to feel quite light-headed, drinking so much on an empty stomach, and the cheeseburger and chips Brendan brings to our table is just what’s needed to soak up the alcohol. The Irish band that begins playing at around 9 p.m. is very well received, and Kiki and I try to sing along with everyone else in the bar. But after the crowdpleasers ‘Whiskey in the Jar’ and ‘Wild Rover’, I’m a bit lost for the words, so I sit patting the table in time with the tune.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Finn says, leaning in towards me so I can hear him above the noise. ‘Not many in here know all the words. I’m not even sure the band does half the time!’