Breakfast at Darcy's (34 page)

‘Nope,’ Conor says firmly, with his eyes shut this time. ‘And I like it that way.’

I watch him silently for a moment. Conor’s last statement should upset me; after all, he’s virtually saying our relationship
means nothing to him. But have I really ever expected anything more from Conor than what we have now?

Conor opens his eyes. ‘You’ve gone awfully quiet. You OK?’

‘Yeah, sure.’ I force a smile. ‘See, maybe you feel that way now, but one day you might change your mind when you want to
settle down and have a family of your own.’

‘I doubt it.’ Conor props himself up on his elbows. ‘Look, don’t get me wrong, Darcy, I think kids like Megan are great, and
I’ve had fun getting to know her – in fact, I can’t quite believe that one as smart as she is was fathered by a Neanderthal
like Dermot.’

I give Conor a reproachful look. Why does he keep calling Dermot names like that? He isn’t that bad … he’s quite kind when
he puts his mind to it, especially where Megan’s concerned.

‘But,’ Conor continues, ‘a little house surrounded by a white picket fence with two kids running around in the yard and a
wife inside cooking my dinner, that’s not how I see my future.’

I laugh at him, but in a way I’m kind of relieved. As much as I adore being with Conor, he does remind me of the gulls that
temporarily perch on Tara’s rocks – there’s always the sense that he might just soar off into the sky at any moment until
another, better resting place comes along. I’ve never met anyone quite like him before; he seems to live completely for the
moment, and although it’s exhilarating in the short term, in the long term I’m not so sure.

‘What?’ he asks.

‘That isn’t exactly want I want either, at this very moment, but that doesn’t mean I’ll never have children or settle down
in a relationship.’

Conor sits up fully now. ‘How
do
you see your future, Darcy?’ he asks, stroking a stray hair away from the side of my face. ‘You don’t see yourself living
here on Tara for ever, then?’

‘No way!’ I say, a bit too hastily.

Conor grins. ‘I thought you liked it here.’

‘I do. I just can’t see myself living here for ever, that’s all. It’s not me, living on an island.’

‘I thought you were fitting in like a real local these days.’

I look hard at Conor. Is he trying to wind me up?

‘What?’ he asks innocently. ‘I happen to think you are. So what would you do with the island, then, if you didn’t live here
– sell it, and live on the proceeds?’

I look around at Tara – the beach in front of me, the rocks that protect her and the waves that crash up against them in a
constant attack. Could I really sell them all on to someone else?

‘I thought not,’ Conor says, gently turning my face back around to meet his. ‘It means too much to you.’ He leans forward
to kiss me, which as always throws my thoughts off track for a moment. ‘You’re nothing like me at all.’

‘Get a room!’ Megan calls from across the sand as she sees the two of us huddling close together. ‘Either that, or at least
wait until you’re alone.’

I close my eyes for a moment.
How do kids know so much these days? I’m sure when I was eleven I was just moving on from Barbie dolls and the latest
Sweet Valley High
book.

‘We were only talking!’ I call, turning my face towards Megan.

‘Yeah, talking, is that what you call it?’ She hurls a stick out into the sea for the dogs to chase. ‘I’m not a kid, you know,
I’ll be twelve in October.’

Conor stands up and holds his hand out for me to take. ‘Come on you, let’s go join the party-pooper. Maybe she can teach us
old ’uns a thing or two about life.’

‘Knowing Megan, it wouldn’t surprise me one little bit.’

‘Conor?’ Megan asks when we’ve been running around on the beach for while, and all three of us, including the dogs, are sitting
down on the sand again having a rest.

‘Yes, Megan.’

‘Have we met before?’

‘I very much doubt it.’

‘It’s just, you seem awfully familiar to me.’

Conor sits up crossed-legged on the sand and looks at Megan.

‘Megan, sweetheart, I’m flattered you think you’ve met me before, but I can honestly say I’ve never met you – I’d have definitely
remembered if I had.’

‘Ah, maybe we knew each other in a past life, then,’ Megan says matter-of-factly, reaching out to rub Woody on his tummy.

Conor and I exchange a look of surprise.

‘What do you mean, Megan?’ I ask.

‘Past lives,’ she says, looking at both of us. ‘You know the theory that when you die you’re reincarnated as someone or something
else. It could be another human or an animal. Just think, Woody and Louis might have been your sister or your husband in a
previous life.’

‘Er … yes.’ I try to shake that thought from my mind. ‘I know what reincarnation is. But what has this got to do with Conor?’

‘It’s just that from the moment I saw him I thought I knew him.’ Megan looks at Conor with a puzzled expression. ‘Apparently
that’s what happens. You meet someone you don’t know and you’ve never even met before, but they’re instantly familiar to you.
It can happen when you take an instant dislike
to someone too; you’ve probably had issues with them in a past life as well.’

My mind flickers to Eileen for a moment, but I quickly remove the thought.

‘Megan,’ I say gently, ‘I don’t think you knew Conor in a past life. Conor is just one of those likeable people who you can
take a shine to easily. I even thought I recognised him the first time we met. He probably has one of those faces.’ I look
at Conor to back me up.

‘She might have done,’ Conor says, as if he’s considering the matter. ‘It is possible.’

I shake my head.

‘See,’ Megan says knowingly. ‘Have you ever done a past-life regression, Conor?’

What do they teach these kids in America?

Conor is about to answer, but I stop him.

‘How about when you worked in the States, Conor?’ I prompt, hoping he’ll take the hint. ‘Maybe you bumped into Megan somewhere
then.’

Conor shakes his head, and I feel like shaking the rest of him.

‘Wait a minute,’ Megan says, her eyes narrowing. ‘Holy moly, I think I’ve got something coming.’ She buries her head in her
hands in deep concentration.

‘Megan, what are you doing?’ I ask in concern. ‘Conor, what’s she doing?’

Conor shrugs.

‘I’m thinking,’ Megan replies in a muffled voice. ‘This helps me to remember.’

We watch helplessly while Megan sits with her face buried
in her hands for a minute. I’m just glad Dermot can’t see any of this.

‘Got it!’ she exclaims suddenly, her heading jerking up from her lap. She grins at Conor. ‘Now I know where I’ve seen you
before.’

Conor looks ever so slightly worried. But that’s not surprising; so do I after what Megan’s been talking about over the last
few minutes.

‘
Patterson Place
, right?’ she says, her eyes sparkling as she looks at Conor.

Conor shakes his head. ‘I … I don’t know what you mean.’

‘You were in
Patterson Place
. You played the lover of the owner of the pet-grooming salon. You were only in it for about six weeks, but I remember you
because I watched every one of those episodes when I was stuck at home after I’d ruined yet another of my mother’s holidays
by breaking my arm and leg in a skiing accident.’

I look at Conor. His face tells me everything I need to know.

‘
You
were in a soap opera?’ I try to say without laughing.

Conor nods in embarrassment. ‘In my defence, it was one of those very bad ones on one of the more obscure cable channels.
I never thought anyone I knew would see it. I only did it for the money when I was desperate, and I met the casting director
in a bar one night. It’s amazing who you can meet in a bar.’

‘No wonder there was a gap on your CV when you applied to come here,’ I grin, ‘and there was me, thinking you were rather
mysterious and had been up to all sorts of mischief you couldn’t tell us about, and all the time you were playing at being
a toy boy in a big glossy soap!’

‘He was actually quite good,’ Megan says. ‘Especially that scene in the jacuzzi with the bubble bath.’

Conor rolls his eyes. ‘Oh my God, you saw
that
?’

‘Yup!’ Megan grins. ‘Now what was your character’s name in it, Conor? I can’t seem to remember.’

‘Neither can I,’ Conor says a bit too quickly.

‘Oh, come on, Conor,’ I tease. ‘Surely you wouldn’t forget something like that?’

‘Didn’t it begin with R?’ Megan suggests, her face screwed up in concentration again. ‘I know it was Randy something.’

Conor sighs in defeat. ‘Randy Colossus.’

‘Randy Colossus!’ I repeat, falling back on the sand with laughter. ‘Oh, that is priceless, Conor! That’s the best thing I’ve
heard in ages, it so suits you, too!’

Megan squeals with laughter, and the two of us are paralysed with mirth. We lie back in the sand, laughing at the white clouds
above us.

‘OK, OK, enough,’ Conor insists, standing up. ‘I cannot sit here and be ridiculed any longer.’

‘Got enough of that for your acting, did you?’ I say, setting off another fit of the giggles.

‘Ladies, ladies, enough!’ Conor holds up his hands as he looks down at us on the sand. ‘That was all in my past, I’m a changed
man now. Do I look like a bit-part soap star to you these days?’ he gestures to himself.

Megan and I lean together in a huddle for a moment, as if considering this. Then we screw up our noses as we give our verdict.

‘Nope, you’re right,’ I say, looking up at him. ‘You’ve no chance of making it as a rich lady’s toy boy these days.’

‘Right, you pair!’ Conor grabs the bucket Megan’s been playing with. ‘Just for that, you’re going to get a soaking!’ He runs
down to the edge of the waves to fill the bucket while Megan, the dogs and I make a dash for it across the sand. Megan holds
tightly onto my hand while we run, and I feel a strange sensation around my heart again. But this time it’s not a feeling
of discomfort, but a warm glow of happiness.

‘Have you got those figures done yet?’ I ask Niall, placing a mug of coffee down in front of him on the desk.

‘Almost.’ Niall shuffles a few pieces of paper around and writes a few more figures down in his big red accounts book, like
he’s just spent the last hour and a half doing.

‘So, how’s it looking?’ I ask, sitting down opposite him with my own mug of tea.

Niall pulls a face. Much like the type I imagine Dermot pulls when he’s quoting for a building job. ‘It could be better,’
he says. ‘But then, it could be worse.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘You’re not in the red as far as the business side of things is going. If anything, you’re turning over a nice little profit
with the amount of bookings you’ve got coming in.’

‘But that’s good, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is.’ Niall taps his pen on the cover of the accounts book. ‘But for how long, Darcy? We’re in the last few days of
August, when the summer comes to an end, and you’ve no guests booked in beyond that. How are you going to make the island
pay for itself off-season? People aren’t going to want to come and stay here in the cold of the winter. Plus,’ he adds before
I’ve got a chance to reply. ‘When I say Tara is making a profit at the moment, that’s not allowing for all the outgoings that
have come from your own pocket, or should I say the fund that was allowed to you to set everything up here. Let me warn you:
that’s dwindling quicker than I’d like, a lot quicker. Tara
has
to keep making a profit, or she won’t be able to survive.’

I take a gulp of my hot tea, hoping it will soothe my troubles. ‘I’ll think of something,’ I say with reassurance. I’m suddenly
feeling much happier with my island responsibilities and, for the first time, I’m even quite enjoying them. This is my island,
my business – I want this to work for all of us here on Tara.

‘You always say you’ll think of something,’ Niall says, sliding his glasses back up his nose.

‘And you always keep doing that – pushing your glasses back up your nose, knowing they’re just going to slide right back down
again. But you still keep doing it, in the hope that one day they might just stay there.’

Niall smiles. ‘I get your point.’

‘And anyway, I always
do
think of something, don’t I?

‘You always seem to. How do you keep managing that?’

‘I’ve no idea, Niall, but as long as it keeps happening I’m just going to go with the flow – just like Tara has all these
years.’

*

‘Have you seen Megan?’ Dermot asks me later, as I’m about to take the dogs on their daily jaunt around the island. I’m just
crossing O’Connell Street, and Dermot is standing by one of the benches in the centre looking most un-Dermot like – he looks
anxious.

‘Why, is something wrong?’

‘It’s just that I haven’t seen her for a while,’ Dermot says, looking all around him again, ‘and no one seems to know where
she is. I just wondered if she was with you.’

‘No, sorry, I haven’t seen her today; I’ve been with Niall for most of the morning doing the accounts. Why would you think
she’d be with me, anyway?’

Dermot shrugs. ‘No reason; she just seems to get on well with you.’

‘Paddy’s the one you should be asking; they’re always off doing things together.’

‘No, Paddy’s been with me all morning, working on cottage repairs.’ Dermot looks worriedly out across Tara’s landscape again.

‘Dermot,’ I say, resting my hand on his arm, ‘she’ll be fine. Megan’s a tough cookie, she knows her own mind.’

Dermot looks down at my hand. ‘Yeah, don’t I know it.’ He manages a half-smile. ‘I have no idea where she gets it from, though
– she’s so direct about everything when you talk to her, and she knows exactly where she stands on so many subjects. There’s
only black and white with Megan – she’s straight down the line, that’s for sure.’

I smile now, too. That sounded like a very good description of someone standing not too far away from me right now. ‘She’ll
be fine,’ I say again, reassuringly rubbing my hand up and
down his arm. ‘We’re just going for a walk up the hill, so we’ll keep an eye out for her on our travels. Don’t you worry,
we’ll find her for you. Won’t we, boys?’