Breakfast at Darcy's (35 page)

Woody and Louis look up at me eagerly, but apparently they’re not the only ones watching Dermot and I as Caitlin suddenly
appears from her shop and hurries across the square in our direction. Her eyes don’t miss my hand still resting on Dermot’s
bicep. Quickly I draw it back.

‘Any luck yet, Dermot?’ she asks, slipping her hand into his.

‘No,’ Dermot says, immediately looking worried again. ‘No one’s seen her. But Darcy’s going to keep a lookout when she takes
the dogs for their walk.’

‘Ah, that’s good. Are you off now, then, Darcy?’

‘Yes … yes, I am.’

‘Have you got a walkie-talkie so you can keep in contact?’ Dermot asks, looking me up and down.

‘Er … ’ None of us has been that good at the whole walkie-talkie thing, now that the initial fascination has worn off.

Dermot rolls his eyes. ‘Look, take mine.’ He pulls his walkie-talkie out of his pocket and holds it out to me. ‘I’ll get yours
from your cottage. Is it open?’

‘Niall is still in there with the accounts, so it should be.’

‘You’ll let me know straight away if you find her, won’t you?’

‘Of course I will. I still think she might be hanging around here somewhere, though.’

‘Maybe, but if she doesn’t turn up soon I think I’ll take a walk around the other side of the island and check there.’

‘Right then, we’ll be off. I’ll see you guys later.’

‘Bye, Darcy,’ Caitlin says abruptly, still gripping Dermot’s
hand. She turns her back to me. ‘Don’t worry, Dermot, I’m sure Megan will be just fine.’

Dermot nods at her, then smiles at me over the top of her head. ‘Yes, I feel happier now that Darcy is going to look out for
her.’

The dogs and I take one of our usual routes up towards the hill where the old ruined building sits looking proudly out to
sea. As we approach the remains, I can see immediately we’re not alone. There are two figures up near the ruins already –
the smaller figure wears brightly coloured clothing and sits swinging her legs back and forth as she perches on top of a wall.
And the other figure is taller, older and wears clothes that blend in with the colours of the landscape. A walking stick leans
against the wall next to where he rests.

They look up at me as I draw near.

‘Darcy!’ Megan calls, beaming at me. She jumps down off the wall to greet the dogs, who as usual have rushed on ahead of me.
They fuss around her, wagging their tails.

‘Hi Megan,’ I wave, following the dogs up the path. I arrive beside them both at the wall. ‘Your dad’s really worried about
you, Megan; he was about to send out the search party.’

‘I was just taking my daily stroll around the island and found the young girl up here all alone,’ Eamon replies calmly. ‘I
was simply keeping her company until someone came.’

‘Eamon’s been telling me all sorts of interesting stories,’ Megan says excitedly.

Great, that’s all we need, Megan’s head being filled with even more mysteries.

‘Has he?’ I smile. ‘About what?’

‘About Tara and her history, and your aunt Molly and what you used to do here when you were a child, Darcy.’

I stare at Eamon.
I don’t remember you being here when I used to come and visit.

‘Did my aunt tell you about my visits here to Tara?’ I ask him.

‘Aye, something like that,’ Eamon says, looking out to sea.

‘Only, I don’t remember anyone else being here back then, only her.’

‘The mind can be a funny thing when it wants to be,’ Eamon says mysteriously. ‘It can bury all sorts of things deep within
that it doesn’t want uncovered.’

I’m about to question Eamon further, but he pulls himself up with his stick and stretches. ‘It’s passed a fine few minutes,
so it has, spending time with you, my girl,’ he says to Megan. ‘Make sure you don’t go a-wandering too far on your own next
time, though. Them down there, they worry if you stray a bit too far away from the usual, if you know what I mean.’ He winks
at Megan.

Megan grins at him. ‘I will, Eamon, and thanks for all the stories.’

‘Any time, young miss,’ he says as he begins to make his way down the hill again. ‘Any time.’

‘So then,’ I say, pulling myself up on to the wall next to Megan. ‘What are all these stories that Eamon has been filling
your head with?’

‘Oh, just stories.’ Megan jumps off the wall and goes in search of Woody and Louis.

‘Yes,’ I call, determined not to move now I’ve got a seat for
a few minutes. As used to walking around the island as I am now, the climb up that hill still gets to me. ‘But stories about
what?’

‘About your holidays here when you were little.’ Megan bends down and begins picking daises that are growing in the grass.

‘Eamon seemed to know quite a lot about that. What sort of things did he tell you?’

‘Just what you and your aunt used to get up to.’ Megan gathers her daisies up in her cupped hands and comes back over to the
wall. She places them in between us and pulls herself up next to me.

‘Will you help me?’ she asks. ‘Make a chain, I mean.’

‘I’ll try.’ I pick up two daises and find to my surprise that I can quite easily join them together. Then I pick up another
and another, until I’m very quickly making quite a long chain.

‘You’re good,’ Megan says admiringly as she struggles with her own meagre string. ‘How’d you do that?’

I show Megan how I’ve been joining the two stems together so they hold tightly.

‘Oh,
that’s
how you do it,’ she says, trying it for herself. ‘Great! I’ve never been able to do this.’

‘I didn’t know I could until just now,’ I admit.

‘I knew you could,’ Megan says, working away on her own ring of flowers.

‘How?’

‘Eamon told me.’

How would Eamon know?
I wonder, looking in the direction he’s just walked. Then, as I glance down at the cottages, I suddenly remember Dermot.

‘I haven’t told your dad you’re safe. Hold on a moment,’ and I pull the walkie-talkie from my pocket.

After I’ve radioed down to Dermot that Megan is safe, we continue to sit happily in the afternoon sunshine making daisy chains
together for quite some time. It feels quite comforting to be sitting up here with Megan, and I find I’m in no hurry to leave.

‘So how have you found it here on Tara?’ I ask her. ‘Not too dull, being stuck with a load of boring adults?’

Megan shakes her head. ‘Nope, I like it here. It feels much more settled than back home.’

‘Does it? Why’s that?’

Megan thinks for a moment. ‘Back home, I never knew whether Mum was going to be in, or whether she’d be working or going out
entertaining business clients. I never knew where I’d be, or who would be looking after me. At least here you know where everyone’s
going to be, and what they’re going to be doing each day. I feel at home here. I feel safe.’

‘Good.’ I smile down at the top of Megan’s bent head as she concentrates hard on her ever-lengthening chain of daisies. ‘I’m
pleased.’

‘Do you feel like that about living on Tara?’ she asks.

‘It’s not quite the same for me, is it?’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m responsible for the island, there are more pressures and worries involved.’

‘But you like living here, don’t you?’ Megan asks, looking up at me now.

‘Yes, of course I do.’

‘And you like the people?’

‘Yes, very much so.’

‘Especially Conor,’ Megan grins, wrinkling up her nose in delight.

‘Yes, especially Conor.’ I grin back at her.

‘He’s funny though, Conor,’ Megan states matter-of-factly.

‘How do you mean?’

‘He’s good looking, anyone can see that.’ As she looks up at me, her dark eyes dart to and fro across my face. ‘But there’s
just something about him.’

I wait for her to continue.

‘What do you mean, Megan?’ I ask when she doesn’t.

‘It’s his eyes, Darcy. Try looking into them. I mean
really
looking into them. You might be surprised what you see.’

What does she mean? I fiddle with my daisy chain for a few seconds while I silently consider her words.

Megan continues to watch me.‘Don’t worry about what I just said. It’s probably just me. I read this thing once on the inter
net about eyes, so I’ve become a bit obsessed with them.’ She continues happily feeding daisies onto her chain again. ‘What
about the others here on Tara, how do you feel about them?’

I know children can ask lots of questions, but are they supposed to be this probing?

‘I like the others, of course. Some of them are my best friends.’ I think about Roxi and Niall.

‘Do you like my dad?’

I hesitate for a moment. Dermot has been a lot more bearable since Megan arrived, and I’ve definitely seen a softer side to
him I never thought could possibly exist.

‘Yes, I like your dad,’ I admit.

‘He likes you – a lot.’

I nearly fall backwards over the wall. ‘He does?’

‘Yep.’

‘How do you know this?’

‘I can tell.’

Megan appears to like asking questions, but getting straight answers from her is damn hard work. No wonder Megan and Eamon
were getting on so well.

‘Well, I’m happy your dad likes me,’ I say lightly. ‘It wouldn’t be good to have enemies on an island as small as this, would
it?’

‘No, I mean
really
likes you.’

I stare hard at Megan. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘Just the way he talks about you.’ She holds up her chain of daisies. ‘Look.’

‘Very pretty,’ I say, admiring her handiwork. ‘What kind of things does he say?’

‘Erm, I can’t really remember. I just know that when we’re together he talks about you a lot more than he talks about Caitlin.’

‘He’s probably moaning about me, in that case.’ A nervous laugh escapes my mouth. ‘Just because my name’s mentioned a lot
doesn’t mean it’s always good.’

‘No, it’s always nice things actually, and he hardly speaks about Caitlin at all unless she’s there. Caitlin doesn’t like
me, anyway.’

‘Of course Caitlin likes you, why wouldn’t she?’

Megan shrugs. ‘Don’t know. Like I said before, past life issues maybe – who knows?’

I shake my head.
I haven’t had much experience of children, but are all eleven-year-olds like this?

‘Thing is,’ Megan continues, ‘I’ve consulted my angel about it and he says I should just let it go – nothing I can do if our
auras aren’t compatible. I’ve just got to ride it out.’

Whoah, hold on just one minute.

‘Megan, did you just say you’d consulted with an angel?’ I ask slowly.

‘Not just any angel,’ Megan looks up from her flowers. ‘My guardian angel.’

‘O
K
,’ I say in the same slow voice again.

‘It’s all right, Darcy, you don’t need to be scared by it, we all have them. It’s just that some people choose to use them
and some don’t. But the angels are cool with it; they just stand back and let you get on with your life. They’re there if
you need them, though. Most people are using them every day and don’t even know it.’

‘Are they?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘How?’

Megan thinks about this for a moment. ‘Take, for instance, the amount of times that an idea suddenly springs into your head
out of nowhere. That’s your angel helping you.’

‘Is it?’ I ask dubiously.

‘Yep,’ she says, nodding. ‘You just don’t realise it if you don’t connect with them. It’s up to you whether you choose to
believe or not, but this place is full of it.’

‘Full of what?’

‘Spiritual energy. I felt it as soon as I arrived here. Once you’re open to this sort of stuff, you just know when it’s around
you.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘There’s all the stuff you’ve got going on here already,’ she says, jumping off the wall. ‘The t’ai chi classes and the reiki,
that’s very spiritual.’

‘But you can do those things anywhere, Megan, it doesn’t mean there’s anything special about Tara.’

‘Oh, there is something special, Darcy,’ Megan insists, looking me straight in the eye. ‘You just haven’t opened your mind
up wide enough to see it yet. You’re still all shut off at the moment, like an ancient fortress.’ Megan is talking to me as
though she’s the adult and I’m the child. ‘Take some time to think about what I’ve said, and then you’ll see what I mean.’
She lifts up a perfect chain of daisies and places them around my neck.

I watch open-mouthed while Megan begins to skip away down the path. ‘Where are you going now?’ I call after her.

‘Back down to see Dad,’ she calls back. ‘You stay there and have a think. Open your mind up, Darcy, as well as your eyes.
You’ll be surprised what happens when you do!’

Dermot, you’ve got your work cut out with that one
, I think as I watch her run down the path and back towards our little village. That’s one very old head on those young shoulders.
It’s like she’s lived for hundreds of years on this earth instead of nearly twelve. I jump down off the wall and turn around,
taking in the derelict building again. I never did get to the bottom of what it had once been. It seems such a shame for it
to stand up here all alone.

I wander over to the doorway I’ve stood beneath many times when I’ve come up here with the dogs, either to shelter from some
of Tara’s inclement weather, or just to take in the magnificent view that this building offers. I stand beneath it
this time wondering just how many people have stood here before me on this very same spot. Perhaps even Finn McCool himself,
when he was recuperating here. What had Eamon said? The islanders looked after him so well that when the time finally came
for him to leave, he hadn’t wanted to go, and he’d left his heart here along with his treasure
.
It’s quite a sweet tale really; I wonder if any of it’s true? I’ve always felt especially calm and comforted when I’ve been
up here in this old ruin. Perhaps others before me have, too. And now, as I look out over the view into the distance, I can
quite understand why Finn fell in love with Tara, or fell in love with
someone
while he was here; or maybe it was a bit of both.