Read Online Beneath an Irish Sky (Choc Lit) by Isabella Connor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Isabella Connor
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said, when the waiter had left. ‘It doesn’t bother me – really.’
He smiled. ‘Okay.’
They made small talk about the weather and the restaurant until the drinks arrived. Jack gulped down half his beer in one go, like a man who’d been lost for weeks in a desert.
He set down the glass, looking a bit shamefaced. ‘Sorry – I really needed that.’
‘Was it bad – Luke and the Guards, I mean?’
Jack cast a swift glance at the diners close by. They were all absorbed in their own conversations, but Jack lowered his voice anyway. ‘They were implying Annie had been drinking. Luke almost lost it. Lucky I was there.’
‘Perhaps he needs a solicitor,’ Emer fretted.
Jack shook his head. ‘They were just fishing. Hopefully they don’t need Luke any longer. They don’t know he’s leaving Ireland.’
‘Is he going home with you?’ Emer mentally crossed her fingers.
‘Yes, for a few weeks at least, but I think that’s more from lack of options than any great desire to be with me.’
‘Doesn’t matter, Jack. The important thing is you’ll have some time together. You can find out a bit more about him …’
‘And maybe why Annie left.’
Emer nodded. That was his main reason for inviting Luke home, she knew that. Jack was coming at this thing from the wrong angle but at least it was a start.
‘Luke also agreed to let me organise the funeral. It’ll be at the local Catholic church Annie attended.’
Clearly Jack could be very persuasive when necessary. He’d not have been the successful businessman she’d read about otherwise. ‘That’s a lot of arrangements to make. If you have to get straight back to the hotel after lunch …’
‘No.’ He shook his head vigorously. ‘I need some time away from it all. I want to hear all about
you
– your family, your career, why you don’t eat meat, what you think about the ozone layer – the works.’
Emer laughed. ‘In that case, it’ll be a short lunch. I’m really very uninteresting.’
‘Oh, I doubt that.’
The compliment and his direct gaze made Emer blush, not something that had happened much since school days. She silently blessed the waiter who turned up at that moment with their food.
The tension was slowly draining out of Jack’s neck and shoulders. This leisurely lunch in a nice venue with a good-looking woman was exactly what he needed. Emer had been telling him all about her childhood in a small town in County Mayo, on the west coast of Ireland, where her father was still the local doctor. The memories she shared of a convent education, Irish dancing lessons and long carefree summers on Achill Island were soothing in their remoteness. So completely unlike Jack’s early years, split between a grim boarding school and the family estate at Edenbridge, where fun was never on the agenda.
‘How many brothers and sisters do you have?’ asked Jack, grinding pepper onto a plate of pan-fried Toulouse sausages with mash. His appetite was coming back.
‘Three,’ said Emer. ‘My older sister, Maeve, lives here in Dublin – she’s married with three sons. My other sister lives in America, and my brother’s working as an accountant in England. So we’ve all scattered, but we try to get the Sullivan clan together – including aunts, uncles and cousins – at least every other year.’
‘The Sullivans,’ mused Jack. ‘Wasn’t that a TV soap?’
‘So it was! But I’m sure it consisted of more than an hour of boisterous redheads talking over one another. The real Sullivans wouldn’t get great ratings.’
A scatter of raindrops rattled against the porthole window. For once Jack welcomed the dreary weather. It was a good reason for them to prolong the meal, snug and dry indoors, and he’d get the chance to hear more about Emer’s life. ‘So what made you choose counselling as a career?’ he asked.
Emer’s knife and fork slowed, and she frowned. Perhaps he should have let her choose the topics, although career was
He smiled. ‘Okay.’
They made small talk about the weather and the restaurant until the drinks arrived. Jack gulped down half his beer in one go, like a man who’d been lost for weeks in a desert.
He set down the glass, looking a bit shamefaced. ‘Sorry – I really needed that.’
‘Was it bad – Luke and the Guards, I mean?’
Jack cast a swift glance at the diners close by. They were all absorbed in their own conversations, but Jack lowered his voice anyway. ‘They were implying Annie had been drinking. Luke almost lost it. Lucky I was there.’
‘Perhaps he needs a solicitor,’ Emer fretted.
Jack shook his head. ‘They were just fishing. Hopefully they don’t need Luke any longer. They don’t know he’s leaving Ireland.’
‘Is he going home with you?’ Emer mentally crossed her fingers.
‘Yes, for a few weeks at least, but I think that’s more from lack of options than any great desire to be with me.’
‘Doesn’t matter, Jack. The important thing is you’ll have some time together. You can find out a bit more about him …’
‘And maybe why Annie left.’
Emer nodded. That was his main reason for inviting Luke home, she knew that. Jack was coming at this thing from the wrong angle but at least it was a start.
‘Luke also agreed to let me organise the funeral. It’ll be at the local Catholic church Annie attended.’
Clearly Jack could be very persuasive when necessary. He’d not have been the successful businessman she’d read about otherwise. ‘That’s a lot of arrangements to make. If you have to get straight back to the hotel after lunch …’
‘No.’ He shook his head vigorously. ‘I need some time away from it all. I want to hear all about
you
– your family, your career, why you don’t eat meat, what you think about the ozone layer – the works.’
Emer laughed. ‘In that case, it’ll be a short lunch. I’m really very uninteresting.’
‘Oh, I doubt that.’
The compliment and his direct gaze made Emer blush, not something that had happened much since school days. She silently blessed the waiter who turned up at that moment with their food.
The tension was slowly draining out of Jack’s neck and shoulders. This leisurely lunch in a nice venue with a good-looking woman was exactly what he needed. Emer had been telling him all about her childhood in a small town in County Mayo, on the west coast of Ireland, where her father was still the local doctor. The memories she shared of a convent education, Irish dancing lessons and long carefree summers on Achill Island were soothing in their remoteness. So completely unlike Jack’s early years, split between a grim boarding school and the family estate at Edenbridge, where fun was never on the agenda.
‘How many brothers and sisters do you have?’ asked Jack, grinding pepper onto a plate of pan-fried Toulouse sausages with mash. His appetite was coming back.
‘Three,’ said Emer. ‘My older sister, Maeve, lives here in Dublin – she’s married with three sons. My other sister lives in America, and my brother’s working as an accountant in England. So we’ve all scattered, but we try to get the Sullivan clan together – including aunts, uncles and cousins – at least every other year.’
‘The Sullivans,’ mused Jack. ‘Wasn’t that a TV soap?’
‘So it was! But I’m sure it consisted of more than an hour of boisterous redheads talking over one another. The real Sullivans wouldn’t get great ratings.’
A scatter of raindrops rattled against the porthole window. For once Jack welcomed the dreary weather. It was a good reason for them to prolong the meal, snug and dry indoors, and he’d get the chance to hear more about Emer’s life. ‘So what made you choose counselling as a career?’ he asked.
Emer’s knife and fork slowed, and she frowned. Perhaps he should have let her choose the topics, although career was
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