Page 44 of The Honeymoon Affair

‘It looked great when RTÉ did that programme about Ireland’s prizewinning authors.’

‘I’m sure it did.’

‘The fact that you obviously didn’t watch it has stripped me of all arse-ness,’ says Charles, and I smile.

He suggests we go downstairs again.

‘Nothing else to see up here?’ I ask.

‘Another room with books and bits and pieces. Not for the public, though. It’s more of a dumping ground than anything else. And bedrooms.’

I nod.

‘Would you like to see the bedrooms?’ he asks.

‘How many?’

‘Five.’

‘That’s a lot when you’re on your own.’

‘I do have people to stay,’ he protests. ‘My sister whenever she’s flying out of Dublin. And my mother occasionally. My nieces when they’re in town too.’

‘Your sister is the one who worked in a library?’

He nods.

‘Do you have many brothers and sisters?’

‘One of each,’ he replies. ‘Ellis is now involved in arts and crafts. She’s two years younger than me. Nick is married with children. Well, I say children, but they’re in their twenties now. Louisa is at college in Cork. Emily’s working in Singapore.’

‘And your parents?’ I didn’t ask him about his family when we were at the White Sands. Other people weren’t important then. But I’m interested now.

‘My dad died a number of years ago and Nick took over the running of the pub we own. He lives in the house that comes with it while my mother has a nice modern bungalow just outside the town. Ellis divides her time between staying with Mum, a house with a studio she rents in Enniskerry and the cottage we own in Mayo. Which is where I decamp to write from time to time.’

I’m dying to ask more, but as I don’t want to appear too nosy, I ask him to show me one of the guest rooms.

He opens one of the doors. The room is decorated in the same dark colours as elsewhere in the house, but it’s very cosy and I’m entranced by the original cast-iron fireplace and the old floorboards, partially covered by a large faded green rug. There are views over the long back garden, which is well lit by outside lights and has a renovated mews at the end.

‘Does anyone live there?’ I ask.

He shakes his head, and I think that if it all goes pear-shaped he’d get a great price for renting it out. I don’t say that out loud, though.

‘It’s lovely,’ I tell him. ‘And you’ve obviously worked really hard for it. So congratulations.’

‘Do you want to see my room?’ he asks.

‘Your bedroom?’

‘Yes.’

I hesitate.

‘Just to see it,’ he says. ‘I’m not . . .’

‘You’re not?’ I raise an eyebrow.

‘I don’t want to pressurise you.’