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

  The band is made up of a violinist, a keyboard player, a guy playing the guitar, and a woman who plays various wind instruments and does all the percussion too. There’s a lead singer – an elderly man with a beard who seems to slur many of the song’s lyrics together to make them fit, or simply hums when he doesn’t remember them. In between songs, when he’s talking to the crowd, which has swollen greatly since the music began, I can barely make out a word he’s saying.

  ‘I thought it was only me,’ I say, smiling gratefully at Finn.

  ‘Nah.’ He shakes his head. ‘It’s often like this. The more yer man there drinks, the worse it gets!’ He winks and turns back to listen to the music.

  I half watch him as the music drops down a gear and the band play an Irish love song – well, I think that’s what it is; it’s slower than much of their previous music, and their singer looks desolate as he wails his lament.

  I’ve tried to find out a little about Finn tonight, but it’s not easy. Finn seems happy to answer all our questions about Ballykiltara and the hotel, but when pressed for information about himself, he immediately becomes evasive and changes the subject.

  I can’t say I blame him; I’m guilty of the same thing. Most of the time I’m happy to chat to people about what I do for a living – unless I’m out in the field, searching; then I prefer to keep shtum until I’ve managed to find a house or a property to suit my client. But if anyone asks me to talk about myself, I clam up at once. Perhaps in Finn I’ve discovered a kindred spirit?

  I shake my head. I must have had too much Guinness – kindred spirit, indeed! I’ve been spending far too much time with Kiki.

  Talking of which, I look around the room to see where she’s got to, and I spy her with a few other uninhibited souls dancing to the music. Well, when I say dancing, right now they’re slowly rocking from side to side as they listen to the mournful ballad, but a few minutes ago they were all jigging across the pub’s wooden floor arm in arm.

  Finn turns back to me and wrinkles up his nose. ‘Bit woeful this, eh?’

  ‘It is a bit.’

  He looks at my pint-glass. ‘Another?’ he offers.

  ‘I think I’d better join you and have an orange juice this time,’ I say. ‘I have to drive again in the morning.’

  ‘Where are you off to tomorrow?’ Finn asks, picking up my glass and getting to his feet.

  ‘Oh, just around,’ I tell him. ‘No particular plans.’

  Finn seems to accept this relaxed idea easily, and heads over to the bar. ‘Back in a minute,’ he says, moving away from the table.

  Within seconds Kiki appears at my side again, plonking herself down in Finn’s vacated seat.

  ‘So?’ she asks breathlessly. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘How’s what going?’

  ‘You and Finn, of course!’

  ‘Go back and play with your new friends,’ I tell her. ‘There’s nothing to see here.’

  Kiki puts on her frustrated face. ‘You wanna try letting go, Ren. Have a little fun before it’s too late.’

  ‘What do you mean, before it’s too late?’

  ‘Well, you’re hardly getting any younger, are you?’

  ‘Wha . . . ’ I’m almost lost for words. ‘I’m hardly ancient!’

  ‘You’re the wrong side of thirty – and that’s getting on, in my book. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart, or should I say the bedroom . . . ’ She winks purposefully at me.

  I put my fingers in my ears and close my eyes. ‘I’m not listening to any more of your nonsense. Go away. La. La. La!’ I sing.

  I open my eyes to see what Kiki’s reaction is, and I’m horrified to find Finn already back in his seat, and Kiki nowhere to be seen.

  Finn observes me silently as I slowly remove my fingers from my ears, an amused expression on his face.

  ‘It was Kiki,’ I explain, my cheeks now flushed bright red, mostly from embarrassment, but partly from all the Guinness I’ve had this evening. ‘She was annoying me.’

  ‘I often feel like doing that in the hotel when things go wrong. Either that, or throwing myself down on the ground like a toddler, and having a full-blown tantrum, kicking and screaming on the floor until the problem goes away.’

  I laugh at the mental image of Finn doing just that with Donal and Orla watching him.

  ‘But I think I’d probably get fired if I did that, hmm?’

  ‘I think you probably would.’ I take my chance. ‘How did you become the manager – and I quote the Internet here – of “Ballykiltara’s premier four-star hotel”? It doesn’t seem like your ideal job.’

  ‘What do you think my ideal job would be then?’ Finn asks, evading the question as usual.

  ‘Not the manager of a hotel, that’s for sure. It’s manic, and busy, and stressful. Three words that don’t spring to mind when I think of you.’

  Finn considers this. ‘It’s always good to know people are thinking about you. Especially people as pretty as you.’

  Can my face get any hotter? I wonder as my cheeks redden even further.

  ‘You’re very good at avoiding my questions, aren’t you?’ I reply, taking a leaf out of his book and sidestepping his compliment.

  ‘And you’re very good at ignoring praise.’

  I lift my glass of orange juice in a toast. ‘Here’s to being stubborn, uncooperative, and secretive!’ I flash my eyes at him meaningfully.

  Finn leans forward from where he’s been relaxing back in his chair, and chinks his glass to mine. ‘Secrets have a habit of catching up with all of us, Ren. If you want me to share mine, are you ready to share yours too?’

  Seven

  The next day dawns bright and sunny, which is in sharp contrast to how I’m feeling as I haul myself out of bed and into the bathroom for a shower.

  Kiki is still fast asleep, and I wonder as I let warm water rain down on my face and body, if she will feel as rough as I do when she awakes.

  I’m not used to drinking as much alcohol as I managed to put away last night – far from it. My usual limit is a few glasses of wine, and last night I must have drunk . . . I try to tot it up in my head . . . Oh my, I must have had at least four pints of Guinness before Finn bought me the orange juice, and we’d had that odd conversation about secrets. Then we’d been joined at our table by Eddie, who Kiki had discovered hiding on the other side of the pub, and had dragged over to join us. Finn then insisted we try some Jameson’s Irish Whiskey to finish up the night, and I think I must’ve had two of those as well . . .

  I groan in the shower. No wonder I feel so bad.

  By the time I emerge from the cubicle I’m feeling a tad better. I dry myself and clean my teeth, then I venture into the bedroom and pull back the heavy curtains in the hope the bright sunlight will wake Kiki.

  She doesn’t stir, so I put the TV on, but hurriedly turn it down when the volume is too loud for my sore head. Then finally, when Kiki still hasn’t woken, I go over to her bed and shake her.

  ‘Kiki, time to wake up or we’ll miss breakfast. They stop serving at ten.’

  I don’t think I can face breakfast after last night, but I know Kiki would never voluntarily miss a meal.

  Kiki shoots up in her bed. ‘Have I time for a shower?’ she asks brightly.

  ‘Er . . . yes, if you’re quick.’

  Kiki leaps from her bed and hurries across the room, but she pauses and turns back at the door. ‘You OK, Ren?’ she asks. ‘You look a bit peaky.’

  ‘I’m fine. How are you?’

  ‘Fab. I had a great night’s sleep.’

  ‘No after-effects?’

  Kiki thinks about this. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I mean the vast quantity of alcohol we drank.’

  She shrugs. ‘Nah, that’s nothing. When I go out with my mates, that would just be an aperitif!’ She grins at me and disappears into the bathroom, where I hear a medley of One Direction songs warbled for the next few minutes as she showers.

  I must
be getting old, I think as I continue getting dressed. If that amount of alcohol is an aperitif, I wouldn’t want to go for a three-course dinner!

  *

  At breakfast the choice is as varied as yesterday, but I stick with plain toast and a pot of tea this morning. I don’t think my stomach would be too happy with me downing smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. But Kiki has the works – cereal, a full Irish breakfast, and then croissants and jam to finish.

  ‘How can you eat all that?’ I ask, looking with disbelief at her plate.

  ‘I’m hungry – aren’t you? It must be all this fresh air we’re having.’

  ‘We spent most of yesterday in the car, and last night in a pub. Where are you getting all your air from?’

  ‘So what are we doing today?’ she asks, popping the last bit of croissant in her mouth.

  ‘We have two properties to visit this morning, then this afternoon I thought we’d take a boat trip.’

  Kiki’s eyes light up. ‘That sounds fun, and not at all like you, Ren. Where did you get that idea from?’

  I decide it’s best not to mention Finn. There was no sign of him this morning when we came down to breakfast; maybe he’s in his office? He certainly wouldn’t be lying in bed, sleeping off a hangover – something I wouldn’t mind doing right now – because he was on soft drinks all night. I’m starting to wish I’d joined him.

  ‘Touring the lakes is a popular thing to do here,’ I tell her. ‘I thought it would be nice.’

  ‘Good morning, ladies,’ Donal says, pausing by our table. ‘And how are you both today?’

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ I fib.

  ‘And did you find your Irish music last night?’

  ‘We did, at The Raven’s Knowledge.’

  ‘Ah, yes, a few of the staff go there, I’m led to believe it’s very good.’

  ‘It’s ace,’ Kiki says. ‘We danced and everything.’

  Donal does his trademark nod, and I wonder if in his mind he’s clicking his heels at the same time. ‘And what will you be doing today, ladies? Remember, if you ever want to know anything about the area – I’m your man.’

  ‘A boat trip around the lakes,’ Kiki tells him.

  Donal nods his approval. ‘From Rafferty Castle?’

  Kiki looks to me.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Excellent!’ Donal looks approvingly at me. ‘And you’ll take the boat over to Sheehy Abbey?’

  ‘Yes – if you think so?’

  ‘I do. Those two places have some wonderful legends surrounding them. Would you like me to tell you some of the tales?’ He looks around the breakfast room, but because we’re late this morning it’s quiet. ‘I have a few moments.’

  I’m about to politely decline and tell him we have to be getting on, when I hear Kiki pipe up: ‘Yes please, Donal!’

  Donal looks delighted. ‘Let’s see . . . legend has it that Rafferty Mor, the original owner of the castle, still exists in a deep slumber under the waters of Lough Leane. Every seven years, on the first morning in May, he is said to arise from the water on a white horse and ride around the whole lake. Anyone catching a glimpse of him is said to be assured of good fortune for the rest of their lives.’

  ‘What a shame we weren’t here a few days earlier,’ Kiki says, looking genuinely disappointed. ‘We might have seen him.’

  I sigh. ‘Please continue, Donal.’

  ‘Of course.’ Donal nods. ‘If you take the boat trip over the water to Rafferty Island, you will find the ruins of Sheehy Abbey, a monastery that’s said to date from the early Christian period. Sheehy means mysterious or eerie, it’s said to be where Irish monks wrote the Annals of Tara, an early history of Christian Ireland.’

  Kiki listens amazed.

  ‘Is that something like the Book of Kells?’ I ask. ‘Wasn’t that done by monks too?’

  ‘Yes and no; the Book of Kells is an illustrated manuscript depicting the four Gospels; it dates from around the sixth or seventh century. The Annals of Tara date from around the twelfth to fifteenth century.’

  ‘Three hundred years?’

  ‘It took them a long time.’ Donal smiles. ‘It’s said that Irish kings came to Sheehy Abbey to be educated by the monks, which is why the lake surrounding the island is called Lough Leane, which means “Lake of Learning”, and why the Annals of Tara were so called, because Tara is the hill in County Meath where the Irish kings were crowned.’

  ‘Wow,’ Kiki sighs. ‘That’s awesome.’

  ‘Isn’t the island the owners of the hotel have called Tara too? I’m sure Finn mentioned something about that?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right, it is,’ Donal says. ‘Its full name is Glentara. Many things around here have taken on the Tara name because it’s synonymous with the high kings. Our own Ballykiltara being one of them.’

  ‘Fascinating, Donal,’ I tell him, meaning it. ‘Thank you for sharing all that with us, it’s much appreciated.’

  ‘Anytime, miss. I have many, many stories to tell if you ever want to hear more. I’ve lived around here all my life. Now, I’ve taken up too much of your time already – I’d best go and see to some of our other guests. I do hope you enjoy your day.’ He gives a nod and a smile, and quickly moves across the carpet, collecting a stray white cotton napkin on the way that a guest has allowed to slide to the floor.

  ‘Who knew it was all so exciting!’ Kiki says, looking at me in wonder. ‘I told you this place was magical.’

  ‘Celtic myths and legends are interesting, perhaps not magical though. More like stories that have been passed down through the generations. I could get you a book on them, if you want to read more?’

  Kiki shakes her head as we stand up from the table. ‘No, you’re all right. If I want to know anything else, I’ll ask Donal.’

  ‘I think he’d like that.’ I smile. ‘He seems to thrive on giving the best customer service he can.’

  ‘All the staff here are so nice,’ Kiki says as we walk back through the foyer towards the lift. ‘It was really cool spending time with Eddie and Finn last night.’

  ‘Yes, they’re quite an amusing pair.’

  ‘Morning, ladies.’ We turn to see Eddie carrying a bucket and mop. ‘Are you well today?’

  I’d thought at first Eddie was a porter, judging by the way he’d taken our bags from the car when we arrived, but he seems to do all sorts of odd jobs around the hotel, and is always popping up everywhere. Last night he’d described himself to us laughingly as a general dogsbody, but I suspect he’s far more valuable to The Stag than that, and without him the place might crumble.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Eddie!’ Kiki sings. ‘Are you?’

  ‘I am indeed, miss,’ he says. ‘What’s not to be happy about? It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, and I have a half day later.’

  Am I the only one who has a hangover?

  ‘Call me, Kiki,’ Kiki says, smiling coyly at him. ‘I asked you to last night.’

  ‘Ah well, it’s different when I’m in the hotel,’ Eddie says, looking a tad self-conscious. ‘You’re a guest.’

  Kiki is about to protest when the lift pings and the doors open behind us.

  ‘Got to go, see you later,’ Kiki says, backing into the lift. She waves shyly at Eddie as the doors close and we rise up to our room.

  I smile secretly to myself as we do. Kiki seems quite taken with Eddie after last night; perhaps if she has a love interest while we’re here she’ll stop trying to persuade me to have one too.

  But in the time it takes the lift to carry us up two floors, I realise that the thought of that not happening makes me feel very sad indeed.

  Eight

  It takes us most of the morning to visit the last two properties I have listed, because they are both quite remote and we have to drive quite a while to reach them.

  The first is not suitable at all; or rather, the house is almost perfect, but the views sadly are not. When we arrive at the second, we spend some time looking around the exterior while
we wait for a local estate agent to come and open it up for us. From the outside, I’m convinced this house could be the one. The setting and views seem to be exactly what Ryan Dempsey wants. But when we finally venture inside, the agent informs me that there is no central heating, only open fires, with the option of installing an expensive boiler system – something they’d decided to leave out of their listing details. Ryan had said he didn’t mind a few basic renovations to any property we might find, but I knew something as drastic as installing a full central heating system was going to make this house a total non-starter.

  So as we drive away, feeling quite despondent that our first two days of searching haven’t turned up anything positive, the prospect of an afternoon off is a very pleasant thought indeed.

  We grab some lunch at a local pub, then set off in search of Rafferty Castle, which is not too far from Ballykiltara.

  ‘This must be it!’ Kiki shrieks as our little Fiat turns a corner and a tall imposing castle looms up in front of us. ‘Quick, pull into the car park.’

  ‘Calm down,’ I tell her, indicating and turning into a small pull-off area with a few cars and a coach already parked in it. ‘One, I can clearly see it’s Rafferty Castle, and two, there was a sign on the road before we pulled in.’

  Kiki, undaunted, shakes her head. ‘It’s big, isn’t it?’ she says, craning her neck out of the car window.

  ‘Yes, it seems so. Shall we go and take a look?’

  We climb out of the car, pulling our raincoats with us and stuffing them into our bags just in case. The earlier sunny weather has quickly become overcast and cloudy, and we don’t want to get soaking wet if the rain decides to make an appearance while we’re out in the middle of the lake on a boat.

  The approach to Rafferty Castle is a short dusty track, at the end of which stand more of the horses and traps we’ve seen so many times already in Ballykiltara, accompanied by the elderly men who drive them. They stand waiting hopefully for a gullible tourist who wants to go for a short but no doubt expensive ride.

  Kiki looks at me, but before she can speak I shake my head. ‘No, we are not going for a ride on one of them. End of.’