The Kinsella Sisters (27 page)

‘Ow,’ said Izzy automatically. She watched Finn’s fingers as he deftly cleaned and dressed and bandaged her wounds. When he finished, he sat back and assessed her.

‘You’re soaked to the skin,’ he remarked.

‘So are you. Why are you wearing different trousers?’

‘Miriam lent them to me, after she spilled the fingerbowl over my jeans.’

‘Water, water everywhere,’ said Izzy. ‘What were you doing, sitting by the gate in the rain?’

‘I wanted a word. We have unfinished business.’

‘Unfinished business?’

‘To do with a Japanese kanji.’ He brushed her arm with his thumb.

Nooooooo! Izzy
didn’t want to talk about that right now. And then she remembered what an expert she’d been at changing the subject earlier in the day, so she did it again. ‘How come you got here before me?’ she asked.

‘I took a short cut across the fields. Do you want that hot sweet tea, now?’

‘To hell with tea. I’d prefer a brandy’

‘You’re going to have to get out of those wet clothes first.’

‘So are you.’

They looked at each other levelly. Something in the air between them crackled and fizzed: a metaphorical gauntlet hung there like Macbeth’s dagger.
Challenge
, thought
Izzy. Adrenalin. Danger.
Words from her dive manual that made her tingle. And she remembered the blurb on the cover. ‘Experience intense adventure. Take it to the edge…’

‘I saw robes in the airing cupboard,’ said Finn.

‘Robes seem like a good idea.’

‘OK. I’ll get them.’

Finn disappeared back into the utility room. He was gone for several moments, during which time Izzy watched more raindrops run down the window and did some thinking. She was going to have to come clean about that day on Koh Tao, or she was going to have to make up more big fat fibs, and she knew that her current state of mind was not conducive to making up big fat fibs. She was too buzzy, too distracted.

When Finn came back, he was wearing a towelling robe, and carrying another. ‘I took the liberty of dumping my clothes in the dryer,’ he told her. ‘That’s the second pair of trousers I’ve had to discard today. I feel like some loser out of
Jackass.
Now, Little Miss Bolger, how can I help you undress without embarrassing you?’

‘I don’t embarrass easily,’ said Izzy.

‘Divers don’t, generally’

Izzy’s bandaged hand meant that she was having problems with her fly.

‘Can I help you with that?’ asked Finn.

‘If you don’t mind.’

‘Not remotely.’ Finn unzipped her jeans for her, and she shucked them down over her hips. He took hold of the hems and pulled.

‘Pretty knicks,’ he observed.

‘I can manage them myself, thanks,’ she said, with mock hauteur. ‘Will you get the brandy?’

‘Sure. Where’ll I find it?’

‘There’s a bar. Second door on the left in the atrium.’

‘The what?’

‘The hall’

‘Why didn’t you just call it a hall, then?’

‘Because my mother decided it was more upmarket to call it an atrium.’

Finn quirked an eyebrow, smiled and left the room, whereupon Izzy peeled off the rest of her clothes, dumped them in a pile on the floor and shrugged herself into her robe. Then she reached for her phone and–holding it carefully between finger and thumb–speed-dialled her dad.

‘Oh, darling, I’m so sorry!’ said Adair when he picked up. ‘I’d lost all track of time. I’m leaving now.’

Her dad was having to raise his voice to be heard. In the background, Izzy could make out the distinctive rasp of bow against strings, and the drone of uillean pipes.

‘What’s that noise?’

‘It’s a load of musicians, tuning up. There’s going to be a session.’

‘A trad session?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hey, Dad, you mustn’t miss that! You’ve always said it was your dream to catch one of those gigs.’

The impromptu traditional music sessions that took place in O’Toole’s were the stuff of legend. Adair had often bemoaned the fact that, while they’d been coming to Lissamore for nearly a decade, their visits had never once managed to coincide with one.

‘Stay on, Dad, why don’t you?’

I can’t, Izzy. I can’t bear the idea of you sitting there drinking hot chocolate all by yourself

‘I’m not by myself. Finn Byrne’s here.’ Izzy started peeling little strands of seaweed away from her décolleté.

‘Oh. Um, what’s he doing there?’

Izzy decided a white lie was called for. ‘I left my jacket behind in O’Toole’s. He very kindly brought it round, so I asked him in for a drink.’

‘Oh. And everything’s…all right?’

‘Yes, Daddy. Everything’s fine.’ There was no way Izzy was going to tell her father that she’d injured herself again. He’d have
her hoisted immediately onto a private helicopter and transported to the Blackrock Clinic.

‘Well, as long as you’re—Hey! It’s—Wow!’ Her dad’s voice on the phone sounded like a big kid’s who’s just opened his best Christmas present ever. ‘Wow! I can’t believe it, Izzy! Guess who’s just come in? Donal Lunny and that gorgeous fiddle player–what’s her name? Zoe you-know-who.’

‘Zoe Conway? Well, hell, Dad, you’ve landed yourself in the middle of trad royalty there. Don’t even
think
about coming back here any time soon.’

‘Are you sure, Izzy-Bizz?’

‘Sure I’m sure. Have fun. Just text me when you’re heading home, will you?’

‘Why?’

Izzy thought fast. ‘I’ll worry otherwise,’ she said.

‘Darling, I’m a grown man—’

‘And I’m a grown woman, and I
always
pay you the courtesy of texting you when I think you might be worried about me. Promise me you’ll do it?’

‘Promise.’

‘Good Daddy’

Izzy put the phone down, calculating how long Adair was likely to be an absent father. The session would go on until past midnight, and then there’d doubtless be one for the road, and, of course, the fifteen-minute walk home because he’d left the car behind this evening in anticipation of having a few jars. There was plenty of time.

Finn came back into the kitchen. ‘I was going to bring the brandy in here,’ he said. ‘But I thought we’d be more comfortable in the sitting room. Or do you call it the “salon”?’

‘Sitting room will do,’ said Izzy, levering herself off her chair.

‘Are you sure you can walk by yourself?’ asked Finn.

Izzy was just about to say, ‘Yes, I’m sure’, and then she remembered how nice it had felt to have Finn’s arm around
her waist earlier, so she changed it to, ‘Oh–actually, I’m not so sure.’

‘Maybe you should put on an elasticated bandage?’ Finn suggested.

‘No!’ said Izzy emphatically. Those bandages were hideous to behold, like orthopaedic socks. ‘I don’t need one. They make my feet feel claustrophobic’

‘OK.’ Crossing the floor, Finn helped Izzy to her feet, then manoeuvred her across the gleaming atrium and into the vast sitting room. He had lit the fire, and set a bottle of Remy Martin VSOP and two brandy balloons on the hearth. As Izzy dropped into one of the deep leather armchairs and pulled up the collar of her oversized robe, Finn looked at her and laughed.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘You look like something out of an advertisement for one of those posh spas,’ he said, handing her a glass.

‘With seaweed in my hair?’ she said, plucking a strand of the feathery green stuff from her damp curls. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘You had seaweed in your hair the night we dived with the whale shark.’

Finn sat opposite her, and they looked at each other for a long moment.

Izzy said nothing. He had put two and two together. He wasn’t a fool. ‘That wasn’t seaweed,’ she said finally. ‘That
was
my hair.’

‘So you’re the girl who rescued my mask in Tao.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why did you pretend it was your mate?’

‘Um. She fancied you, and wanted to big herself up?’

‘You’re lying, Izzy.’

‘How do you know?’

‘You’re a diver. Because you speak with your eyes, it’s dead easy to tell when you’re lying.’

Izzy looked down at the rug.

‘What was the real reason you wanted to remain incognito on Tao?’ Finn asked.

‘The real reason,’ said Izzy, feeling very stupid, ‘was because my hair extensions were falling out.’

She waited for him to hoot, but he didn’t even smirk. ‘That was it? That was the only reason?’

‘No. The other reason is that you thought I was a lesbian.’

Now he did laugh. ‘What on earth would have made me think you were a lesbian?’

Izzy didn’t want to compound her embarrassment by reminding him that she’d been wearing a cap with I Like 2 Dyke on it. So instead she said: ‘Babette is jealous of me. She is the Perez Hilton of Lissamore. She’s been spreading lies all over the village about my sexual orientation.’

Finn sighed. ‘She’ll have fun holding court on the sea wall tomorrow, spreading the latest gossip, so.’

‘What might that be?’

‘That Shane Byrne, star of the cult television series
Faraway
, was seen flirting outrageously in O’Toole’s seafood eaterie with a beautiful Business Studies student before escorting her to her beach-front home.’

‘How do you know he escorted me home?’ said Izzy indignantly. ‘Were you spying on us?’

‘No. I heard you talking on the road above.’

‘He–he just wanted to make sure I got my jacket.’

‘Oh, yeah?’

‘Yeah. I’d left it behind on my chair—’

‘That old trick!’

‘–and your dad was chivalrous enough to return it to me and make sure that I got home all right.’

Finn gave her a sceptical look. ‘That doesn’t explain why you spent the entire evening flirting with him.’

‘Who else was there to flirt with?’

‘I suppose I am not worthy?’

‘You! You couldn’t keep your eyes off that Miriam one—’

‘I’ve known Miriam all my life! She’s like a sister to me!’

‘–and then you went skulking off into the storeroom with her at the first opportunity’

‘What do you mean, the first opportunity? My jeans were soaking!’

‘After she’d
accidentally
poured water all over them.’

‘It
was
an accident!’

There was a pause. Izzy reached for her brandy glass, then made a face, and put it down. ‘Ick,’ she said. ‘I’d forgotten that I don’t really like brandy’

‘There’s Baileys.’

Izzy was just about to say that yes, she’d love a Baileys, when she remembered the old television ads for the liquor that featured loved-up couples just about to do it. So instead she said, ‘Thank you. But maybe I should steer clear of alcohol.’

‘Hot sweet tea, then?’

‘No, thanks. I don’t like tea much, either.’

‘What would you like?’

Izzy thought about it, tracing the kanji on the inside of her elbow with a forefinger.
Water…

‘I’d really, really love a bath; I feel a chill coming on.’

Finn took a taste of his brandy, made an appreciative face, then moseyed over to the window. ‘D’you know what would be much better for you than a bath?’ he said.

‘What?’

‘A Jacuzzi. I’ve just spotted the hot tub on your deck.’

Izzy clapped her hands. ‘Oh! A Jacuzzi in the pouring rain! I can’t think of anything more blissful.’

‘Then let’s go for it,’ said Finn.

‘Do you need me to show you how to operate it?’

‘No, ma’am, I do not. I spent a summer working in Coolnamara Castle Hotel, where Jacuzzis are as much a part of the furniture as emperor-sized beds.’

Finn moved to the doors that opened onto the deck, then paused. ‘What time is your dad due home?’ he asked.

‘Not for a while. There’s a session starting in O’Toole’s.’

‘A session? No shit! Who’s playing?’

‘Um.’ Izzy thought fast. If she told Finn that Donal Lunny and Zoe Conway were playing, he’d be back down the pub in–well, in jig time. ‘A baroque quartet,’ she improvised.

‘A baroque quartet? In O’Toole’s?’

‘Yes. They’re trying to raise money to study at the Conservatoire in Paris.’

‘I wish them luck with their fund-raising. I’d say your dad’ll be the only one in the audience.’

Finn dropped his bathrobe, stepped naked into the rain, and made for the Jacuzzi. Izzy watched as he raised the lid and reset the motor. Oh! He was fitter than Beckham and Nadal and Ronaldo rolled into one.

Rising from the armchair, Izzy moved to the window. Finn straightened up, and turned to face her. He pointed an index finger first at her, then at himself, and then he made the ‘OK’ signal with forefinger and thumb. Izzy smiled. He was communicating in scuba language.

‘Shall we?’ he signed, raising an interrogative eyebrow.

Izzy demurred. ‘You go ahead, I’ll follow,’ she told him with both hands–a little shyly.

He climbed the steps to the hot tub, then lowered himself into the water, and drew a big smile across his face. Izzy stepped through the door, and stood there, hesitating.

Finn said something, but the thrumming of the rain against wood meant that she couldn’t hear him. She indicated that she might have a problem.

‘Is something wrong?’ he queried with an eloquent hand.

She nodded, holding out a clenched fist to warn of potential danger.

He pointed a finger at his chest. ‘Me?’

Nodding again, Izzy raised her hand to her forehead, fingers together in the shape of a dorsal fin. ‘You could be a shark,’ she was telling him

He laughed, then placed his hands on either side of his head, and wiggled his index fingers to tell her that, really, he was a pussycat.

Izzy stalled some more, then gave an exaggerated shiver, and hugged herself. The signal she was sending indicated that she was cold, or frightened, or nervous, or all three.

‘Take it easy,’ he told her with a movement of his right hand. Then he put both palms prayerfully together, bowed his head, and gave her a beseeching look from under his eyebrows.

She looked at him, deliberating, then laughed out loud as she watched him place his fingertips against his mouth, stretch out a bronzed arm, and blow. The invitation proved irresistible. He was a master scuba instructor, after all–a dive god. And you
never
flouted the authority of a dive god. His wish was her command. Izzy caught the kiss. Then she untied the sash of her robe and let it fall.