Breakfast at Darcy's (30 page)

‘What do you think?’ I ask him, nodding to the outfit on the bed.

Dermot stares at my carefully selected ensemble. ‘They’re clothes,’ he replies in a flat voice.

‘Yes, I know that, but what do you think about the combination of them together?’

Dermot shrugs. ‘It’s OK, I suppose.’

I sigh. ‘They’ll look better when you put them on.’

‘Let’s get this over with, then.’ Before I can stop him, Dermot pulls the shirt he’s wearing up over his head without unbuttoning
it and reaches down towards the clothes on the bed. ‘You want me to wear this white t-shirt first?’ he asks.

I know I’m opening my mouth to speak, but for some reason there’s nothing coming out. Dermot just stripping his shirt off
in front of me like this has shocked me for two reasons: first, I hadn’t actually meant him to try the clothes on right at
this very moment. And second, the sight of him standing there bare-chested in just his jeans and boots is a lot more pleasant
than it should be, because Dermot does particularly well in the torso department. He’s exceptionally muscular, but not in
that ‘I’ve pumped a bit too much iron’ bodybuilder way. There’s a fine layer of dark hair covering his extremely well-developed
chest, but not so much that we’re talking grizzly bear alert.

‘Er … yes, that’s right, the t-shirt underneath the shirt,’ the words manage to find a way out at last. I sit down on the
bed and watch as Dermot pulls the white t-shirt on, and as his torso disappears order is immediately restored to my brain
once more.

‘You don’t need to put those on,’ I hurriedly instruct him as he reaches for the jeans, ‘they’re not that different from the
ones you’re wearing.’

Dermot shrugs. ‘OK,’ and he begins to tuck the white t-shirt into his jeans.

‘No – no tucking in!’

‘Why not? It’s neat and tidy.’

‘It’s neat and tidy if you’re over seventy, maybe! I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a decent belt hidden in those drawers,
is there?’

Dermot rolls his eyes and goes to his chest of drawers again. He opens the bottom one and pulls out a brown leather belt with
an ornate silver buckle. ‘What about this, will it do?’

‘That’s perfect, Dermot,’ I say, examining the belt. ‘Where did you get it from? It looks like it’s quality leather, maybe
a designer label.’

‘It was a gift.’

That figured.

I hand him back the belt and he feeds it through his jeans. He pulls on the blue shirt and begins to button it up.

‘Don’t button the shirt.’ I instruct from the bed.

‘Why on earth not?’

‘It will just look better if you leave it undone. Look,’ I get up from the bed and begin to undo the buttons Dermot’s already
done up. His chest begins to move in and out a little bit
faster as I do, and suddenly it begins to feel very warm in the bedroom. I’m aware of the heat radiating from Dermot’s body
as we stand this close to each other. I can feel his warm breath on the top of my head as I quickly pull the shirt loose and
arrange it so it hangs around his hips and the t-shirt sits just above his belt. Then I stand back and pretend to admire my
handiwork while I steady my own breathing.

‘Yep,’ I say, not daring to look him in the eye. ‘Not bad, even if I do say so myself. What do you think?’

‘What I can see looks pretty good to me.’

I stop admiring Dermot’s clothes and look directly up at him. His brown eyes gaze unblinkingly back into mine. ‘But you don’t
have a mirror in here, how do you know until you’ve seen yourself in a mirror?’

Dermot suddenly jolts into action like he’s just woken from a daydream. ‘No, you’re right. I need to see it properly. I’ll
go into the bathroom – back in a minute.’

Still in a daze myself, I begin hanging Dermot’s other clothes back in his wardrobe.

‘I have to hand it to you, Darcy,’ he says on his return, ‘it’s pretty good. I like it.’

‘Great. I’m glad you do.’ We stare at each other again for a moment.

‘Right, I’d better get these shirts off in case I get them messed up before tonight.’ Dermot begins stripping off again.

‘And I’d better head back,’ I say, grabbing my beauty box and hurrying towards the door.

‘Is that it? Torture over?’ Dermot asks, already shirtless again. ‘I thought Mrs Gok would have had a lot more in store
for me than just a few wardrobe adjustments. You didn’t even break into
the box
. Not that I’m complaining, mind.’

‘No, I think Mrs Gok’s seen …
done
plenty for one session.’ I’m trying so hard to keep my eyes on Dermot’s face and not let them roam to his bare chest again.

‘Well, I think she’s done a grand job,’ Dermot says, following me as I scuttle towards his front door, now desperate to escape.
‘Oh, you’ve forgotten something.’

‘Have I?’ I turn back, my hand already on the door handle.
Oh, I wish Dermot would cover himself up!

‘Yep, aren’t you supposed to ask me that all-important question before we finish?’

I look at Dermot in confusion. My brain is scuppered enough at the moment, without any guessing games. What on earth is he
going on about?

Dermot rolls his eyes. ‘From that TV show. Do I look good naked?’

Tonight is turning out to be one of the loveliest nights I’ve spent here on Tara. The dinner party has been a very elegant
affair so far; Roxi has adorned my front room, the table and our chairs with trailing greenery and wild flowers to make it
feel like we’re in a magical fairy glen. The conversation throughout the evening has been fun and flowing at a constant pace,
with no awkward breaks, and the food that Kathleen and Aiden have served us has been exquisite. Conor and Dermot have been
civil to one another for once, and most importantly, Caitlin and Dermot seem to be hitting it off.

Dermot has turned up in his outfit newly styled by me, looking altogether quite un-Dermot-like. I wonder, as I look at him,
if it’s just the way he’s wearing his clothes that’s making him appear different. But he seems to have made a bit more effort
with his whole appearance tonight, too. He’s styled his hair and has taken more care with shaving, and he’s smiling more than
he usually does, mostly in Caitlin’s direction.
Something doesn’t feel quite right seeing Dermot like this, but I have no idea why it’s bothering me.

Us girls have all made a big effort tonight too, and are wearing dresses for the occasion. Caitlin’s is a long, flowing, flowery
gown that if I attempted to wear would look like I was going to a 1970s fancy-dress party, but which on Caitlin simply accentuates
her willowy figure. She’s wearing minimal make-up, and this, with her blonde hair cascading down over her slim shoulders,
makes her look like an old, glamorous advert for Cadbury’s Flake. I feel very formal, sitting opposite her wearing that dinner-party
staple, the little black dress. It’s a simple, long black gown from French Connection, with tiny diamantés around the neckline
and a deep slit up one side. I’m not too sure why I brought it with me − it had seemed a bit over the top at the time, when
I’d been packing – but I always like to be prepared just in case, and now I’m really glad I did bring it. This dinner party
deserves a bit of glamour with all the effort everybody’s put in, and jeans and a jumper, although they’ve become my day-to-day
Tara uniform, just wouldn’t have done at all.

Tonight Roxi has put my hair up for me in a style we’ve seen Cheryl Cole wear on
The X-Factor
a few times, and Roxi has even persuaded me to wear a tiny silver tiara in my hair.

‘No,’ I insisted when she produced it from her jewellery box.

‘But Darce, you look so elegant in that black dress, and with your hair up like that, you remind me of Audrey Hepburn in
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
.’

‘I hardly think so, Roxi,’ I’d replied, craning to view myself in the tiny mirror in Roxi’s bathroom. But the tiara went so
beautifully with the diamanté in the dress that I decided to let
it stay. How often do you get the chance to wear a tiara to dinner, after all?

But now, seeing Caitlin’s understated style and Dermot’s reaction to it, I do feel a bit overdressed. Maybe I have overdone
it? Conor has told me I look gorgeous tonight, though, so what does it matter what anyone else thinks?

Roxi, as ever, has gone for full-on glitz and glamour. She’s wearing a scarlet red-sequinned minidress with matching platform
shoes, and has accessorised her look with a red rose-and-diamanté headpiece, which is pinning up her long black locks.

Niall has produced a plain grey suit and white shirt from his cottage (I knew he’d have to bring one suit with him!), so it’s
only Conor, although clean and tidy, who doesn’t look much different to usual in his blue jeans and white t-shirt. But he
still looks gorgeous as he sits next to me now, tucking into his dessert. He winks as he sees me watching him.

‘So, Conor, you seem to have travelled the world,’ Dermot says, scraping the last of his sticky toffee pudding up with his
spoon. ‘Don’t you ever feel like settling down in one place?

‘Nope,’ Conor lifts the bottle of wine from the table to refill everyone’s glasses.

‘But you must want a base, somewhere to call home?’ Dermot persists.

Conor shakes his head. ‘You’ve heard of the song “Wherever I Lay my Hat (That’s my Home)?” Well, this is my home for now,
here on Tara. More wine, Dermot?’ he hovers with the bottle over Dermot’s glass.

Dermot shakes his head and holds his hand over his half-empty glass.

‘It must be wonderful to have been to so many places,’ Caitlin says. ‘I’d love to travel more.’

‘You should do, Caitlin. Travel broadens the mind so much I can’t begin to tell you. I’ve learned more in my years of travelling
than I ever learned when I was home. But there’s still so much more of the world I’ve yet to see.’

‘So why are you here, then?’ Dermot asks. ‘Why stop on Tara?’

Conor finishes filling his own glass and places the bottle carefully back down on the table. ‘Maybe I’ve found something here
on Tara I like,’ he smiles at me.

‘But you couldn’t have known what would happen between the two of you when you applied to come here. So, no offence, Darcy,’
Dermot continues, glancing across at me, ‘but something else must have brought you to Tara.’

I roll my eyes. ‘No offence taken, Dermot.’ Picking up my glass, I sigh. I don’t like where this is heading: everything has
been lovely and dinner-partyish up until now. Why does Dermot have to start being awkward?

Conor eyes Dermot over the dinner table. And for a moment, the two men lock into each other’s stare.

‘I just wanted a break from travelling for a while,’ Conor says eventually. ‘After my mam died. So what better way than to
spend it here, near to where I grew up, reliving old memories?’ He picks up his wineglass and takes a large gulp.

I glare at Dermot.
After all I’ve done for you this afternoon.

‘Now then,’ Roxi says anxiously, looking between Dermot and me, ‘since we’ve finished dessert, how about we all have a game?’

I’d tried to encourage Aiden and Kathleen to stay and join
us once all their lovely food had been served up, but they insisted on going to join the others at The Temple Bar and leaving
us to enjoy ourselves. In fact, I’d felt guilty that I hadn’t been able to invite everyone to our dinner party – I didn’t
like excluding anyone – but as Ryan had quite rightly pointed out, someone had to look after our island guests and the pub
that night, so he and the others had encouraged Roxi and me to take a night off.

We really are such a close community now. Everyone on Tara is always so lovely to each other.

Everyone except Dermot and Conor, that is.

‘What sort of a game?’ Dermot asks suspiciously.

Roxi’s dark eyes dart between the five of us. Knowing Roxi like I do, I dread to think what she’s got in mind. I see her eyes
rest on the wine bottle in the middle of the table, and I fire a warning glance at her.

‘Spoilsport,’ Roxi says, giving me a mock pout.

‘How so, Roxi?’ Caitlin asks, looking between the two of us. ‘What do you want to play?’

‘Roxi’s thinking of playing spin the bottle,’ I answer for her, while she tries to suppress a cheeky smile.

‘No way,’ Dermot says, resolutely placing his empty wineglass back down on the table and lifting the bottle to fill it again.
‘This is all this bottle is going to be used for tonight.’

Caitlin looks faintly disappointed.

‘Come on, Roxi, you must know some other party games?’ Niall suggests helpfully.

‘Kiss chase,’ Roxi says, winking at me.

I shake my head.

‘OK, OK. How about I Never?’

‘What’s I Never?’ Caitlin asks. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever played that before.’

‘It’s easy,’ Roxi explains. ‘We all take it in turns to make a statement, like “I never ate six Cadbury’s Creme eggs in one
sitting”, for example. If you haven’t ever done that you remain sitting. If you have, then you stand up. For instance,’ she
says, pointing at me, ‘Miss Chocoholic over there should be standing up right now.’

‘Ha, I’m not that bad,’ I stick out my tongue at Roxi.

‘It sounds fun!’ Caitlin says, clapping her hands together.

‘It sounds about as much fun as putting my hand in a vice and turning the handle,’ Dermot grumbles.

‘Stop your moaning, Mr Cowell,’ Roxi admonishes him, ‘and lighten up for once! Right, I’ll go first then.’ She thinks for
a moment. ‘Hmm, I’ve never … been arrested,’ she says, her eyes lighting up.

Myself and Roxi immediately spring to our feet, followed by Niall, who is dragging himself up also. The others remain seated,
and look with interest at each other and with surprise at Niall.

‘What?’ he asks. ‘I was young once, you know. At university, there was a minor incident with a fountain and some bubble bath.’

‘Well, that’s certainly got the party started,’ Roxi laughs as we finish telling our own stories of minor misdemeanours with
the police. Roxi’s and mine obviously relating to the Eros incident.’Now, whose turn is it next?’

‘I’ll go,’ Conor says, raising his hand. A sudden flash of something flickers in his eyes, and then he smiles at us all,
waiting. ‘I’ve never … wondered what Eamon has hidden in that cottage of his.’