Inside the cottage had that same mix of functional and pretty that marked the outside of the property. It was essentially one large room with a door at either end and what she presumed was a narrow pantry or porch at the rear. It was cosy and even though there was the end of a fire burning in the stove, Lucy had a feeling it was the kind of place that stayed warm long after the fire had died out. It was tidy too. Dan was an organised sort of guy, not one of those men who needed a woman to come in and sort out his laundry or manage his store cupboards. He seemed almost too big for the kitchen, as if he could reach from one end to the other in a long stride, but he moved with an ease that spoke of how much he’d completely settled into the place.
‘Sit, sit,’ he said as he pulled out a large pizza from the oven and placed it on the scrubbed kitchen table. ‘Do you need a plate, or will you just help yourself?’ he asked, placing a bottle of red wine and two glasses on the table between them both.
‘I can’t just gate-crash your dinner.’ She laughed, but the pizza smelled as if it had been smoked and she couldn’t help but notice it was loaded with a mixture of cheeses and a hefty fusion of fresh fish and shellfish. Suddenly Lucy’s stomach grumbled loudly – it had been too many hours since lunch.
‘You were saying?’ He raised an eyebrow in mock horror and set about cutting the pizza into slices. ‘You can talk about Jo if you want, or don’t if it’s too upsetting,’ he said gently, as if reading her mind.
‘You know already?’
‘I’m a writer; I pick things up. It’s not always a blessing, let me tell you.’ He shrugged. ‘Apart from which, you look as if you could do with offloading some of that worry you’re carrying about behind your eyes.’
‘I won’t deny that this last week took far more out of me than I’d ever have expected,’ she said between delicious mouthfuls. ‘You’d think, well, I thought at least, that being a doctor, being used to hospital environments… I mean, it’s madness really. I’ve worked in busy A&Es for years, but…’
‘It’s not the same thing at all,’ he said gently.
‘No. It turns out it’s nothing like it.’
‘I don’t care how often you see that; it’s bound to be different with your own mother – nothing could prepare you for that.’ He poured out two generous glasses of merlot for them.
‘But, that’s it – I knew that, but still…’ She sipped the red wine, sat back for a moment, savouring the taste. ‘That’s really good,’ she said.
‘Happy accident – I picked a bottle up on my first day here and I struck lucky. I’d say I’ve all but bought out their entire stock in the local supermarket.’ He smiled easily. Simple pleasures; maybe they were alike in that. ‘I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself, expecting to be far stronger than anyone could possibly be. Of course, you’re going to be worried sick. The fact that you’re there, well—’ he smiled ‘—here in Ballycove, is quite enough.’
‘Is it though? Because I feel as if I’m looking at her just fading away before my eyes and there’s just nothing I can do about it.’ There: she had said what she’d been afraid to give voice to since they’d had her mother’s prognosis confirmed.
‘It is, of course it is. If you were outside, looking in, you’d see that as clearly as I do.’ He leant forward and topped up her glass. ‘Another bottle of this left, if we need it,’ he said easily and they both laughed.
‘Anyway, this isn’t doing either of us any good. Tell me more about your novel,’ she said as she polished off another slice of pizza. ‘This is delicious too by the way, although, a bit messy.’ It dripped as she took it up, but the fish was cooked perfectly and the cheeses – a mixture of cheddar, Italian soft cheese and strong Parmesan–melted in her mouth when she tasted them.
‘Oh, it’s just made from a whole lot of stuff I threw together. Most days, I pick up fish from the men coming in off the boats; there’s always unwanted, unusual catches in the bottom of the nets. This evening…’ he made a face and threw the tea towel across his forearm as if he was a waiter in a fancy restaurant ‘…we have prawns, trout, bass and flounder.’
‘Very impressive.’
‘Well, any writer has to put time in waiting tables or helping out in kitchens before they get a break.’