Breakfast at Darcy's (17 page)

When eventually the fish is close to the shore Conor alarmingly pulls off his socks and boots, rolls up his trousers and wades
into the sea with a landing net, where he proceeds to scoop up the fish and carry it triumphantly towards me. My natural instinct
is to back away from the slimy wet creature wriggling about in the net. But Conor looks so excited that I feel obliged to
stand still and look pleased at my catch.

‘What do you reckon? He must be a ten-pounder at least! I had no idea he was so big. Fair play, Darcy.’

‘Yes, it’s, um, fantastic!’ I eye the fish warily, wishing I could share in Conor’s excitement.

‘He’ll make for a fine barbecue tonight.’

‘You mean, we’re going to eat it?’ I ask in horror, looking at the fish squirming about in the bottom of the net.

‘Sure we are! You’ll never have tasted fresher salmon than this.’

Conor now produces a truncheon-like object from his bag. ‘You may want to look away for a moment.’

‘Why? Oh, I see.’ I realise the truncheon is about to put an end to this fish’s chances of ever swimming in the sea again.
‘Look, I don’t suppose we can just put it back, can we?’

Conor looks at me in surprise. ‘Why, you’re not a vegetarian, are you? No, you can’t be, you ate sausages and burgers like
everyone else last night.’

‘No, it’s not that. It just seems a shame, that’s all; he’s done nothing to us, and we’re ruining his life just by catching
him.’

Conor smiles. ‘If you’re here to live the island life, then I’m afraid catching and cooking fish is something you’re going
to have to get used to. It’s really no different than the fish you buy in a supermarket back home, or eat from your local
chippy – you just don’t see it being caught.’ His blue eyes twinkle as he looks softly at me. ‘But if that’s what you really
want, Darcy, then of course I’ll pop him back in the sea for you.’

I look down at the fish one last time, and then up at Conor.

‘No, you’re right,’ I say bravely, holding my chin aloft. ‘I’ve made my decision by coming here, haven’t I, and I can’t just
bail out of it every time it suits me. Do what you need to do, Conor … but just don’t expect me to watch you doing it.’ I
turn my head away to watch Louis and Woody, and when I look back again the deed is done, and Conor has hidden the fish in
a large canvas bag.

He smiles at me again. ‘You know what you said a moment ago – about doing what I need to do?’

‘Yes?’

‘I was wondering … ’ he says, moving closer to me, his eyes glinting mischievously. ‘Since you’re the boss, do you give me
your permission to do what I feel I need to do in
all
respects here on this island?’

I can’t help but smile at his cheek. ‘I might do … depends what it is.’

Conor is now standing only a few inches away. He looks down at me and his now familiar grin appears. ‘Oh, let me assure you,
boss, it’s nothing bad, in fact I think it could be
very
good indeed when it happens.’

I feel Conor take hold of my hand.

‘Come on,’ he says, ‘shall we go and find the others and tell them what an expert fisherman you’ve become in one morning?’

‘Or about the expert teacher I had?’ I gaze up into his eyes.

‘Or maybe we should just keep it our little secret,’ Conor whispers, leaning in towards me, his lips so close to mine I can
virtually feel the vibration of his speech.

My eyes begin to close in anticipation of his kiss, but just as quickly snap open again when I realise Conor’s face has pulled
away and he’s stood upright again.

As a wave of embarrassment washes over me and my eyes drop down towards the ground, I see Conor’s bare feet still covered
in sand. ‘You … you’d better put your boots back on,’ I stutter, ‘it’s cold on the beach.’

‘That I had,’ Conor grins, reaching down for his boots. ‘I don’t want to get a chill, now do I?’ He lets go of my hand and
brushes the sand from his feet, then quickly slips his socks and boots back on.

‘Happy now?’ he asks, still smiling.

‘Yes,’ I reply, mortified I’d just sounded like a mother reprimanding her child. ‘Much better.’

‘Shall we, then?’ he asks, holding out his hand again.

‘Sure,’ I shyly take hold of Conor’s hand and, with Woody and Louis scampering about our feet, we walk back across the sand
towards the cliff path together, with Conor carrying the salmon and me carrying a new yearning inside, that for once doesn’t
belong to a handbag or a pair of shoes.

Its barbecue time again on Tara, but this time, instead of sausages and burgers it’s my salmon that sits proudly in the middle
of the flames, roasting away wrapped in a huge tin-foil parcel.

After the glorious sunshine of the morning, the weather has miraculously held for this evening’s event. But tonight we’re
cooking on a new barbecue that Dermot has built to accommodate the roasting of my giant fish. Dermot didn’t seem to mind when
we’d sprung this on him earlier; he seems to thrive on a challenge, and set to work creating this new stone-built contraption
that we are using to cook with now.

The weather isn’t the only miracle that’s taken place this evening. Some more cans of beer and lager have appeared, just like
last night. I wasn’t aware when we sailed over yesterday just how many crates of alcohol we’d been ferrying back with all
our other supplies. But now, as we gather around the barbecue with the sun just beginning to set, sipping on our cans
and warming ourselves on the flames, I’m quite glad at least someone had the foresight to bring some. Even Eamon has joined
us this evening to sample some of my salmon. Currently he’s leaning on his stick next to Dermot, watching him while he tends
to the fish.

Dermot has taken charge of cooking the salmon this evening, and the rest of the food to accompany the meal has already been
prepared in my kitchen. It would seem that my house, being the biggest, has been temporarily chosen as the automatic meeting
area for any communal gatherings.

Not only has Dermot managed to build the barbecue, but with Paddy’s help he’s knocked us up some new wooden benches from fallen
tree trunks – which some of us are now relaxing on around the fire. Paddy had been so excited earlier when he’d told me how
he’d helped Dermot scoop a quarter of the inside of each trunk out using some power tool or other, and they’d then sanded
and smoothed each log into a long bench. And I have to admit, as I sit on one of them now, they really are quite comfortable.

I watch Conor standing over on the other side of the barbecue talking to Niall and Roxi, and I secretly hope he might come
and sit next to me on the bench in a moment when he’s finished. But it’s Eamon who wanders over to fill the gap.

‘How’re ya, Darcy?’ he asks, sitting down next to me.

‘I’m OK, thanks, Eamon. How are you?’

‘Oh, I’m grand, lass, just grand. You’re looking very pretty this evening.’

‘Thank you, I thought I’d try and make an effort.’ I’ve changed out of my jeans and sweatshirt into a long summer
maxi dress, matching cardigan and gladiator sandals. I’m just starting to get a bit chilly now as the sun gradually sets behind
the island, but I’m determined to see the evening out in some sort of style.

‘And a grand effort it is, young lady.’ He takes a sip from his glass. ‘You and your friend over there certainly brighten
up the proceedings.’

I look across at Roxi. She’s wearing black zebra-print leggings she bought off Wembley Market with a bright pink scoop-neck
top and black patent ankle boots, and even though it’s now starting to get dark, in the dusk Roxi lights up Tara like a beacon.
‘Now,’ Eamon continues, ‘Conor is telling me you think you saw a dolphin in the bay this morning.’

‘I don’t
think
I saw one, Eamon, I did see one. In fact there were two.’

Eamon manoeuvres his body with the help of his stick so that he’s fully facing me. ‘Are you absolutely sure about that?’

‘Yes, definitely. Me and the puppies stood watching them for some time.’

Eamon nods slowly as he gazes into the distance again. ‘You could be right then,’ he mumbles so quietly I can barely hear
him.

‘What do you mean,
you could be right
?’ What are you talking about, Eamon? I know I’m right. What’s so odd about seeing a dolphin around here?’

Eamon turns to me again. ‘Do you know the last time I saw a dolphin swimming off the coast of this island?’

I shake my head.

‘The last time your aunt was here. Never seen one before, never seen one since.’

This I’m not expecting. ‘It could just be a coincidence.’

‘That it might. But there’s an old saying about dolphins and this island.’

‘Yes, Conor said he thought there was.’

‘The dolphins only swim around the island when there’s change afoot.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘They come to see what’s going on, to see if they’re needed.’

‘I’m sorry, Eamon,’ I say, feeling a bit silly. ‘But I still don’t understand.’

‘To see if they’re needed to protect the ruler of the island – their king or their queen. The more dolphins you see, the more
change there is about to befall either the island or the ruler. Or both.’

I stare at Eamon for a moment, wondering if he’s had a few too many of our beers. But he’s holding a glass with just a small
tot of whiskey at the bottom.

‘You needn’t think it’s the drink talking,’ he says, seeing me looking at his glass. ‘This is my first tonight. Yer man over
there,’ he nods at Dermot, ‘gave it to me when I says I don’t drink beer.’

I’m trying to get my head around all this. ‘Are you saying that just because I’ve seen dolphins swimming off the island we’re
to expect some huge disaster to befall us all?’

Eamon shakes his head. ‘No, that’s not what I said at all. I said it meant change was afoot, either for you, for the island
or both.’

‘Why me?’

Eamon raises his bushy white brows. ‘Because you’re the owner of Tara now, Darcy. In ancient Celtic legends that would have
made you the ruler – the king. Or in your case, the queen. The dolphins want to know if they can help you in any way.’

As I sit listening to Eamon I suddenly realise I’m falling for all this, hook, line and sinker – just like my salmon did.
I shake my head.

‘OK, stop it now,’ I say, looking around me suspiciously. ‘Whose idea was this to wind me up? Was it Dermot’s or Conor’s,
hmm? Whose? Ooh, I’ll get them back for this, Eamon, just you see if I don’t!’

But as I turn back to Eamon again, he’s not smiling. He looks at me with concern.

‘This isn’t a wind-up, Darcy. I’m only telling you what you asked me to – the Celtic legend associated with Tara and the dolphins.’

‘Are you really serious – that’s the truth?’

Eamon nods.

‘But I’ve only seen two.’

‘My bet is you’ll see plenty more over the coming weeks. That’s what happened to your aunt.’ Eamon gazes out to sea.

‘And what were they warning her about?’ I ask, desperately curious now.

‘Change,’ he says, slowly turning his head back towards me again.

‘Yes, I know you said it means change, Eamon, but in what sense?’

‘Hey, what are you two guys discussing over here?’ Roxi
asks, leaning her voluptuous chest over the top of the log bench. Eamon hurriedly averts his gaze from the sizeable amount
of female flesh suddenly being thrust in his face.

‘Roxi!’ I gesture at her low-cut top.

‘Oops, apologies,’ Roxi says, rearranging her chest as she stands upright again. ‘Didn’t mean to offend.’

‘No offence taken, young lady,’ Eamon says, smiling at her now. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve had two such pretty young ladies
to look at on Tara.’

‘Well, then,’ Roxi says, squeezing her plentiful behind between us on the bench, ‘let me sit down here and have a little chat
with you, young Mr Eamon. I always have time for a man who properly appreciates the female form.’

When finally the salmon is cooked, we all sit round the fire enjoying our meal while the sun turns the sky from azure blue
to a deep crimson red, and Conor is right – it
is
the best salmon I’ve ever tasted, whether that’s because I caught it, or whether it’s more to do with Dermot’s expert cooking
I’m not sure, but whichever it is, it tastes extremely good.

Most of us have finished eating – Paddy seems to have an enormous appetite and can continually take in food in gargantuan
proportions – and I’m just about to bring up the subject of the new islanders arriving tomorrow. We still haven’t had a chance
to sit down and discuss it again, what with everyone doing their own thing this morning, and me still tossing and turning
my idea around in my head all day. Then Roxi stands up and announces, ‘Right, I think it’s time for some entertainment. What
can everyone do?’

Dermot eyes her warily. ‘What do you mean,
do
? I just
cooked you all supper; I don’t need to
do
anything else tonight.’

Roxi rolls her eyes. ‘I didn’t expect you’d have much of a repertoire for entertainment, Mr Cowell. What about you, Paddy?
I bet you’ve got a trick or two up that Adidas tracksuit sleeve of yours.’

Paddy looks up from his dinner plate. ‘I can pick any type of lock you like in County Kerry,’ he announces proudly, ‘and there’s
not many I can’t do over in Dublin either – cars, houses, you name it, I can get in there.’

‘Um, I’ll bear that in mind next time I’m trapped in the ladies’. But that’s not quite what I was thinking of.’ Roxi looks
around the assembled group. I fire a warning glance at her when her gaze rests on me. ‘Eamon, my new best bud,’ she says,
sitting down next to him again, ‘what about you? I bet you’ve got some old Celtic stories or something you can tell us?’

Surprisingly, Roxi and Eamon have hit it off immediately, and have spent the entire night laughing and chatting about goodness
knows what while the rest of us just marvel at the opposites sitting on the bench together; Eamon in his traditional attire
of greens and browns, against Roxi’s vibrant and pulsating shocking pinks and electric blues.