The Matchmaker (8 page)

Jan had tipped her off about this problem and she had bought a packet of ten yellow ear plugs in the chemist’s. With half the household rising at the crack of dawn to work in hospitals and offices and building sites the chance of sleeping after five thirty a.m. was slim.

‘Did I tell you Olek is going to play the part of a little monkey in his school’s production of
Noah’s Ark
?’

‘A monkey? That’s fun. You must be so proud. When is the play?’

‘Four weeks’ time.’

Irina could sense the pain in Jan’s voice. He would miss it for he was not returning home till the end of August for a two-week holiday.

‘Renata will take photos, send them to you.’

‘I know. She is a good wife. I have a good family. I am a fortunate man.’

‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘Very fortunate.’

The meatballs were delicious and Irina fended off the greedy attention of the other householders as she served up.

‘They smell delicious,’ pleaded Josef, a bricklayer from Piła who shared the room with Jan. ‘Just a little taste . . .’

‘No!’ she laughed as Jan passed him up a forkful of the spicy meat and sauce.

‘Better even than my mother’s,’ cajoled Josef, his big eyes glistening in the hope of persuading her to ask him to sit down and join them.

Marta appeared downstairs wearing her big pink dressing gown. Ignoring Josef, Irina made her sit down. She grabbed another plate from the shelf and served her some warm food. She had worked overtime all week with no day off.

‘So I work hard, I earn the big money and then I go home. Then there will be time for resting and sleeping!’

‘That was so good,’ beamed Jan, licking his lips. ‘As good as my Renata’s but don’t tell her ever I said so!’

‘Thank you,’ added Marta, clearing all the food on her plate too.

Irina smiled. She had a little left for tomorrow when she returned home from the Spar shop where she worked late on a Thursday night. She would put the meatballs away in the fridge with her name written clearly on the container, otherwise Josef or one of the other men would just eat them. Someone had a DVD of a Polish game show and the latest two episodes of her favourite soap
M jak miłośîć
and once she had washed up she would join the throng in the sitting room to watch the continuing story of the Mostowiak family.

She yawned as she lowered herself on to the multicoloured couch, squeezing in between a skinny girl called Justnya and Piotr Boczkwoski and his girlfriend. Her body ached with exhaustion but she didn’t want to just go straight to bed after working all day. Caroline Dunne had been even more demanding than usual and complained that she had not cleaned the shower in the main bathroom properly and made her redo it. At least she’d been paid, cash in hand, but she was in two minds whether to turn up next week or not. Watching the TV, for a short while she imagined she was back in her own place, in her own town listening to the gossip and chat around her.

Irina stared at the figures on TV. She laughed as on screen the contestants battled it out for the chance to win a thousand euros and a trip to London. Everyone wanted to win something. Be a winner. Yet life here was tougher than she had imagined: everything was so expensive – rent, food, the bus and Luas and trains – and yet every day more and more of her countrymen seemed to be coming to Ireland, living in rented accommodation in Dublin, Cork, Galway and Wexford. There were many stories of Polish people being successful; buying houses and property and shops and setting up businesses. Some day she would be successful too. Some day her broken heart would mend and she would forget the name Edek Stasiak, and fall in love again!

Ignoring the pelting rain Sarah grabbed an umbrella as she and Evie ran helter-skelter down the garden path to the mews. The new tenant was due and her mother had suddenly been called away to the funeral of an old family friend in Wicklow and had asked her to be there instead for the handover.

‘Don’t worry about money or anything like that,’ she reassured her daughter, ‘but just make sure you give Angus two sets of keys and show him how to work the heating and the water immersion and the alarm panel.’

‘Will do,’ said Sarah, who was curious to meet this Scottish guy her mother had been telling her so much about. His job designing computer games sounded great, really fun, but he was probably one of those computer nerds who never switched off.

Evie played around the living room and kitchen as Sarah pulled the curtains and did her best to make the place look cosy considering it was such a wet miserable night. She had a welcome bag of essentials with tea and coffee, milk, sugar, butter, bread and biscuits and had flicked on the heating to warm the place up. She loved this house. Her sister Grace had done an amazing job in terms of the simple design and making sure it captured light from all directions. Upstairs she checked the bedrooms quickly before racing with Evie to answer the doorbell.

‘Who are you?’ asked the lilting Scottish accent.

‘I’m Evie,’ her daughter said, introducing herself to the stranger.

There was a very wet young man at the door trying to balance a massive box in his hands in the doorway. Embarrassed, Sarah ushered him in.

‘I just need to find somewhere to put my computer down,’ he explained.

She directed him to the rectangular dining table. ‘I’m Maggie’s daughter, Sarah,’ she said shaking his hand once it was free. ‘Mum had to go to a funeral and asked me to let you in.’

He grinned. ‘And I’m Angus Hamilton.’

Wow! He was just the kind of guy she always fancied: a little taller than her, skinny, with spiky hair and the very faintest tracing of a beard. He was wearing jeans and a leather jacket and boots. But it was his eyes that got her, big and dark and soulful.

‘I’ll just grab one more bag from the car; I can get the rest when the deluge is over.’

‘Take the umbrella,’ she advised, watching him disappear along by the hedge.

By the time he came back with a backpack and a flat screen for his computer she had put the kettle on. She was dying to hear more of that lovely Scottish accent.

He dumped his jacket on the expensive metal coat stand beside the front door and paced around the downstairs.

‘This place looks even better than I remember.’

‘Glad you like it.’ She smiled. ‘I brought you over a few welcome things like sugar and milk and coffee.’

‘That’s kind of you,’ he said, running his fingers through his damp hair.

‘We only live across the garden in the basement, and Mum wanted to make sure that you were OK.’

‘I appreciate it,’ he said seriously as she walked him around the rest of the house and gave him all the necessary instructions.

‘The kettle’s boiled if you fancy a cup of tea or coffee,’ she offered, hoping he wouldn’t think her too pushy.

‘Only if you two stay and join me,’ he said, opening the pack of chocolate biscuits and offering one to Evie.

Sarah finished off the coffee and carried the two mugs over to the black leather couches where he was busy telling Evie all about the Loch Ness monster.

‘She told me that she likes dinosaurs,’ he explained.

Over the next hour Sarah found herself filling him in on the local shops and telling him about all the hot night spots and good restaurants to go to in Dublin that her sisters and friends regularly frequented.

‘It’s good to get recommendations,’ he teased, ‘but surely that can’t beat trying out the places yourself!’

‘I do go out sometimes,’ she protested, ‘but with having Evie to mind, it’s not as easy.’

‘So it’s hard for you and Evie’s dad to get out?’

‘No, that’s not it,’ she said truthfully. ‘He lives in Italy so we rarely see each other.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No need to be,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ve got Evie and that’s all that matters. What about you?’

‘I’m twenty-seven and from the parish of Barclay in Edinburgh. I have one sister and two brothers and studied engineering, specializing in computer systems, which I now design, along with games – which are a sort of sideline and hobby of mine,’ he added mockingly, his dark eyes fixed on her face. ‘And I have a lovely girlfriend Megan whom you will no doubt meet when she comes to visit me in a few weeks’ time.’

‘Great,’ she replied, trying to hide her plunging disappointment. He was too good to be true. Someone like Angus was bound to have a girlfriend in his life. Her mother was right, though, he was a nice guy and she hoped that at least they could be friends.

‘Hey, Angus, I’d better go,’ she exclaimed. ‘Time to get Evie to bed or she’ll be like a bear tomorrow. She’s going to a birthday party at the Puppet Theatre. I said I’d give the other mum Jess a hand as she’s bringing twelve six-year-olds!’

‘Sounds like fun!’ he said and she could tell he actually meant it. ‘I’m big into those kind of places myself!’

Sitting up at her own computer later that night typing a story she was making up for Evie about a dog and listening to the lashing rain and gusting winds outside, Sarah found herself genuinely relieved to know that Angus was only a minute or two away.

Grace checked the table one last time. The ultra-modern Finnish cutlery, linen napkins, her good crystal glasses, Meadows and Byrne candles, two stems of green leaves with a showy splash of red ginger stems, all set out perfectly on her dark walnut table with its classic elegant lines.

As the tantalizing smell of food wafted from the kitchen she stifled her hunger pangs, knowing she didn’t want to spoil her appetite by snacking and tasting too much of the meal she was preparing. There were salmon fishcakes, Shane’s favourites, which she had shaped with the cooked fish and egg and breadcrumbs and seasoning, all ready to heat and serve on a small bed of tossed leaves. To follow there was fillet of pork done in calvados with apple rings and a baked mixture of sweet potato and carrots. For dessert she had made a coffee cake. It had turned out perfectly and sat temptingly on her big blue ceramic plate. The room was bathed in low candlelight, Sinatra was playing in the background, an expensive Merlot was already open and a Chablis was chilling in the fridge. They say the way to a man’s heart is a good home-cooked meal – well tonight she hoped that it was true as she really wanted to impress Shane. She enjoyed entertaining, having friends around for supper and drinks, but this meal was strictly dinner à deux.

Yesterday had been Shane’s thirty-fifth birthday and she’d been annoyed when he told her that he was going for a business dinner with a client and the invitation had not been extended to include her.

‘We can celebrate it another time,’ he’d told her as if it wasn’t that important. Well, they would just have to have a private birthday party, she’d decided, and had cooked his favourite meal, splurged out on some good wine and had left the office early to ensure she had plenty of time for preparation. She’d been delighted when he had jumped at her offer of an intimate dinner for two instead of eating out. The fact he was happy to stay in for a romantic evening was certainly a step in the right direction.

She’d known Shane for years. He’d been ahead of her in college, the golden boy, an architect who could do no wrong. On qualification she had done a three-year stint in Hunt Brown, specializing in reclaiming derelict buildings in some of the city’s run-down areas, turning old mills, factories and churches into bright innovative living spaces. Approached by Thornton’s, one of the city’s biggest and brightest architectural practices, she had accepted a job offer from Derek Thornton to come and join the firm. Her path once more crossed with Shane O’Sullivan as they now worked for the same firm. Shane was living with a stunning-looking girl called Ruth Liddy, who was a journalist for the
Irish Times
, while Grace was happily dating an eager young barrister called Fintan Dywer.

Shane was always professional, polite and charming and when they had been paired two years later to work on a new hotel project in Barcelona for one of their big Irish clients, she was delighted. However, a few weeks into the job, after a pretty drunken night in the historic Els Quatre Gats restaurant, as they held hands and walked through Barcelona’s Barri Gòtic in search of a taxi-cab, Shane had admitted that Ruth and he had broken up a few months earlier and that Ruth had taken off travelling around South America. Grace had read a few of her pieces in the
Irish Times
entitled ‘Footloose and Fancy Free’, envying Ruth’s ability to just pack up and go travelling and exploring on her own.

‘So much for being a happy couple,’ he said drunkenly. ‘Ruth and I just wanted different things!’

Grace had consoled him and told him that her relationship with Fintan had also bitten the dirt a few months previously and that he was now dating a sexy young junior counsel called Hilary.

‘That Fintan must be a stupid bastard!’ he said, ordering two more drinks back in the hotel bar. By three a.m., helping his six-foot frame into the lift and upstairs into the bed in his room, Grace had found herself utterly besotted.

The next day he had greeted her at breakfast with a red rose and an apology but once his hand had touched hers there was no going back. They had cancelled all meetings for the rest of the day and crept away to her very large double bed with its view of the marina. They revelled in each other’s bodies, both equally surprised by the depths of the passion they were experiencing. In the city of Gaudí they explored the Güell Park and Montjuïc, arguing and laughing constantly over buildings and art, Shane buying her a crazy painted stone lizard to remind her of their time together.

Returning to Dublin, they had begun a relationship, enjoying romantic dinners which always ended up back at her place – her stone lizard Dalí gazing at her from the balcony as they made love. Grace was happier than she had ever been before and thought how lucky they were to have found each other at a good time in their lives. OK, so they weren’t heady teenagers cracked out about each other but she did love him and want him to be a part of her life. Shane was charming and handsome and intelligent: everything she could want in a partner. When he told her that he didn’t want to rush into marriage she had nodded understandingly, saying there was no hurry. She was prepared to wait. The very odd time she was free to babysit her little niece Evie she reassured herself that one day marriage and motherhood would happen. There was nothing to say that she couldn’t have it all: career, love, children – a perfect life, balanced and beautiful