Page 11

The main thing that struck her was the lack of cars.

In the whole time she’d been in the café she’d only seen one.

But then that would be the petrol rationing.

Many people in England were putting their cars under wraps in garages.

But here there were donkeys pulling carts, and the occasional pony and trap, a carriage or two, and many bicycles.

She knew as soon as she saw the green Austin pulling onto the station forecourt that it would be Mr Boyle. He wore a brown trilby, and he drove straight towards her.

‘Good morning, Miss Manning,’ he called out as he got out of the car. He was short and stocky, with dark-rimmed glasses, a rather hairy tweed jacket, and she put his age at around fifty-five. ‘I trust you had a smooth crossing; the Irish Sea can be very rough.’

He shook her hand. His Irish accent was only a faint lilt, and he had a warm smile. He put her suitcases in the boot and opened the passenger door for her.

‘It was fine, it seems I’m a good sailor,’ she said as she got in. ‘Just a very long night, what with train and ferry.’

‘Well, you’ll soon be in Clancy’s Cottage– it’s not far.

Kathleen, a local woman who used to do for Miss Falcon, has taken care of it since she died.

As I told you some time ago, I’ve been letting it out for holidays during the summer months, as there’s nothing so bad for a house as to be allowed to get cold, unaired and damp.

Kathleen gave it a thorough clean yesterday, lit a good fire, and got you a few groceries. ’

As he started up the car, she felt a bit nervous because summer lets suggested he’d had a great deal more correspondence with her friend than she’d realized.

What if they’d spoken on the phone? Would he realize her voice was different?

And as he hadn’t said where the house was, that suggested Elizabeth had known this.

‘You’ll excuse me if I seem a bit odd,’ she said, feeling she must cover herself. ‘But since the bombing I find when tired things slip my mind– my mother always accused me of being vacant. I can’t even remember the name of the village where the house is.’

He chuckled. ‘My wife is often vacant. I think I bore her. It’s Dunmore East. Why they added East I don’t know, there is no Dunmore West. But if you have any problems or forget something, you can always telephone me.

I used to call on Miss Falcon when she was concerned about something.

She was a very forceful lady, but even so, workmen often tried to take advantage of her.

They never got away with it though, she used to say, “Robert, I might be an old woman but my mind is still sharp. I can sniff out a rogue at fifty paces.”’

Beth laughed nervously. ‘I wish I’d met her,’ she said. ‘She sounds fascinating. I don’t know why she and Mother didn’t visit one another. She always remembered my birthday and Christmas, but it would’ve been lovely if she’d come to England to stay.’

‘My dear, she was in a wheelchair for the last ten years,’ he said. ‘I dare say she was too proud to admit to that. She had a fall and damaged her spine. Not that it cramped her style much, she still had bridge evenings. And she liked to paint watercolours.’

‘Why didn’t she marry? Mother didn’t say.’

‘I believe she came from a rather grand but impoverished family,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘She was perhaps too bold for some men, and certainly not cut out for the little woman role.’

‘What made her come to Ireland? Mother never told me that either.’

‘She once told me she’d come because of a man from Waterford.

But she fell in love with Ireland instead.

Dunmore has often attracted artists and writers.

But it is my opinion that she made it up about the man.

I couldn’t imagine a lady like her chasing a man across the Irish Sea. She liked to tease.’

He looked round at her in the passenger seat. ‘What are you going to do here? Or will you sell the place?’

‘I really don’t know,’ she said truthfully. ‘I need time alone to think on that one. My brush with death in the bombing raid has kind of knocked the stuffing out of me.’

‘Yes, it would do that,’ he said, his voice soft with concern. ‘You could offer bed and breakfast. That way you’d have a bit of company. I wouldn’t like to think of you being lonely.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Mr Boyle, but for a few weeks at least I think I need to be alone. London being so frantic, the Blitz, blackout and rationing, it was all a bit much.’

They lapsed into companionable silence. Beth looked out of the window and was soothed by the lush green fields all around and the trees beginning to take on autumnal colours.

‘Well, here we have Dunmore,’ Mr Boyle said as they approached a few cottages. ‘Fishing is the main occupation, but some people work in business in Waterford.’ Tis only a small village, but it’s famous for being friendly.’

Despite being so tired, Beth leaned forward in her seat and felt a burst of wild excitement to see the sea in front of her.

Book and magazine illustrations had put an image like this in her head.

But the reality was better, white caps on the waves, a picturesque lighthouse at the entrance of the harbour, swooping seagulls, fishing boats, and the smell, so bracing and exhilarating.

Mr Boyle turned to the left, up past a thatched cottage, then right again along a narrow lane, where all the houses faced the sea. At the end he stopped.

‘Here we are, Clancy’s Cottage,’ he said, waving his hand to the last house surrounded by a picket fence which needed painting. ‘Miss Falcon liked the meaning of the name, which is Red Warrior. She saw it as an omen she’d be safe here.’

Beth looked at the cottage as he spoke, and noted Michaelmas daisies and chrysanthemums, so someone had been caring for it.

But her eyes were drawn back to the beauty of the sea.

Turquoise water stretching to infinity. She could hardly believe she was to have this view from the windows of the cottage.

Whatever unpleasant surprises might await her inside, she was already in love.

Mr Boyle seemed to understand what the view was doing to her. He came round and opened the car door and held out a hand to her.

‘It is a grand view,’ he said. ‘Miss Falcon once said to me, “I hope I can be looking out at it when the time comes to meet my Maker,” and do you know, Miss Manning, she was looking out at it, she had her heart attack while sitting in her chair at the bedroom window. Kathleen found her soon after, and she said there was a smile on her face.’

‘So the Red Warrior took care of her right to the end?’ Beth said. She felt he needed to know she had been listening to him and he smiled in acknowledgement.

The cottage was small, with a window either side of a trellised wooden porch around the front door, covered in a pretty climbing plant. It had a tiled roof, and under the eaves were two more smaller windows.

‘It’s all so lovely,’ she managed to add.

‘Nature has been kind to you today, so it has.’ Boyle smiled as he lifted her suitcases out of the boot. ‘September can be very windy and wet, but she’s shown you her best today, and I think that may mean you’ll be happy here.’

The heat from the fire hit her as he unlocked the front door and led her into the living room.

‘Kathleen’s been in again this morning to bank up the fire, it seems. I won’t stay with you now unless you ask me to,’ he said.

‘I know you must be very tired and will want to explore on your own. But first I’ll carry these cases up for you, then show you where the account book is.

Kathleen has kept these meticulously since Miss Falcon died.

Anything she had to spend, soap, coal for the fire, the electricity and other bills, and her wages too.

At first I paid the bills and gave her wages and any expenses, but once we started letting the cottage out, it came out of the rent.

The balance is in the cash-box, for you. ’

He opened a writing bureau and pointed to a cash-box and a ledger.

‘I won’t bother you with this now, but in a day or two when you’ve had time to check the figures and count the money, we can talk this over and anything else you need to know about.

’ He closed the bureau, then turned back to her.

‘Kathleen said she’ll pop round tomorrow to welcome you.

But understand, Miss Manning, you don’t have any obligation to keep her on, she knows you are young and will have your own ideas as to running the place.

But she’s a good woman and it might be nice for you to have someone to turn to until you are settled. ’

‘You are very kind, Mr Boyle,’ she said. ‘I really appreciate it. I’ll be glad to meet Kathleen.’

Finally he reached inside his jacket and drew out an envelope.

‘I was Miss Falcon’s executor and handled the probate too.

This is my final account and a cheque for the balance of your inheritance.

I wish you much happiness here, and I will always be available to you, not just for legal advice, but as a friend. ’

He left then, saying he had to call on another client, and she had his telephone number if she had any problems.

As kind and helpful as the man had been, she was glad to be alone again.

The living room was cosy. She loved the round Victorian-style mahogany supper table in the window, the carved-back dining chairs which, although worn, were beautiful.

Watercolours on the walls were of scenes and views she assumed were local and painted by Miranda Falcon.

A thick, traditional Axminster rug covered the entire floor, very similar to one she remembered in Auntie Ruth’s flat.

She felt like flopping down on the chintzy sofa in front of the fire but knew she was likely to fall asleep, and she needed to look round first.