‘What are you? My mother?’ The boy’s features turned suddenly dark.
‘Hardly, but let’s face it, you’ve had enough – coffee, that’s what you need,’ he said and turned back towards his car to carry in more of the provisions he’d just picked up in the supermarket. It was as he was switching on the kettle that something dawned on him. ‘You’re not Niall? Are you?’
‘How’d you know that?’ The boy looked as if Dan had just divined some rare truth.
‘How did I know?’ Dan blew out an exasperated breath. ‘Because half the village is out looking for you, that’s how. Your mother is probably beside herself with worry and they’re going to deploy a lifeboat out on the bay to find you as soon as the storm dies down.’
‘Well it’s nice to hear I’ve been missed,’ Niall slurred.
‘I’m sure it is.’ Dan bit down on the anger that was rising up in him. ‘Anyway, it’s time to ring your mum, and then we’ll see about getting you into some shape and back to her.’ He picked up the kid’s mobile from the chair at his shoulder and handed it to him. The boy scowled at him from beneath knitted eyebrows. ‘Seriously, she’s going to be in a bad way. The whole village is up to ninety worrying about you…’ He let his words peter off, but the boy just stared at him. ‘Look, make the call; do you really want to be responsible for someone being drowned out in that sea while they’re searching for you? Don’t be a complete ass,’ he said, shoving it into the boy’s hand.
Dan turned and listened while the boy rang his mother, busying himself preparing coffee, divvying up the half chicken between two rolls so at least when he returned the kid, he might not be quite so badly hung over. He handed him the coffee when the call was finished. ‘Well?’
‘Yeah, you were right, she was worried.’ He sipped the coffee then, pulling himself up a little higher against the chair at his back. ‘I must have blacked out.’ He rubbed his head then. ‘I didn’t realise. I’ve been here since… yesterday.’
‘You fell, I’d say.’ Dan pointed to the chair and the stain that had dried into the rug. ‘You’ve got a matching patch on the side of your head.’
‘So, this headache might not be all about the…’ he picked up the almost empty bottle from the floor ‘…vodka?’
‘Alcohol won’t help – I can tell you that much.’ Dan dropped into the chair opposite the kid and handed him one of the rolls. They both began to wolf down their food.
‘So, are you here on holidays or are you going to live here, now?’ Niall asked when he’d finished and wiped away the crumbs from his sweatshirt.
‘For a while, I suppose, yes,’ Dan said and it surprised him, because it wasn’t just a holiday now that he was here. He did not have a return ticket booked. In a week someone else would be living in his flat, sleeping in the bed he’d so recently slept in while he pottered about here on a cliff side overlooking the ocean.
‘Mental.’ The boy looked around the cottage now, taking it all in again. ‘You’re English?’
‘That’s right. London – I’m just having a bit of a break, looking to… research, and a few months in peace and quiet.’ Dan smiled; he liked that idea.
‘Yep, like I said mental.’ The boy looked at him now. ‘What would anyone want to come here for when you could be in London? What kind of work do you do?’
‘I’m a writer, so the quiet will be good – less distracting.’ Dan wasn’t sure why he told the boy that. His writing job with the BBC was gone now and after what happened there, he knew the chances of finding another were thread-thin.
‘Right.’ Niall looked thoughtful then for a moment. ‘What kind of books?’
‘I write for television.’
‘Christ, even worse. My grandmother will be bloody all over you. She used to be involved in amateur dramatics back in the day – still harping on about it now.’
‘I’m not sure Am Dram is my thing.’
‘Too good for it, are you?’ Niall scowled.
‘No. Not at all. Any kind of theatre is worthwhile. It’s just I’ve only come to the end of a project and I want to start something different. Being here is all about…’ Dan sighed. What in God’s name was he doing making excuses to this kid?
‘You’re here to chill?’