The Lost Secret of Ireland: Completely unforgettable and uplifting Irish fiction by Susanne O'Leary

Author:Susanne O'Leary [O'Leary, Susanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bookouture

12

Ella came back to reality more than an hour later as she heard footsteps on the terrace. She blinked and looked up from her work as a shadow fell over her drawings. She turned and focused on the figure, thinking it was Lucille. But the person standing there was a lot taller and broader. Ella realised it was Rory, who now knocked on the sunroom door.

Ella got up and opened it. ‘Hi,’ she said, her voice stiff. ‘What are you doing here? Lucille isn’t home.’

‘I came to talk to you,’ he replied, his eyes a little wary. ‘If you have the time.’

‘I’m working,’ she replied, glancing at her watch. ‘But I see it’s past lunchtime and I haven’t had anything to eat, so I’ll take a break.’

‘I’d appreciate it,’ he said. ‘May I come in? It’s starting to rain, actually,’ he continued as large drops began to smatter against the windows.

Ella opened the door wider. ‘Okay. Go and sit down in the living room. I’ll go and make myself a sandwich. I’ll be back in a minute. Do you want anything?’

‘No thanks, I’ve had lunch.’

‘I’ll bring you coffee, then.’

‘That’d be great,’ he said as he entered.

Ella went into the kitchen and quickly made herself a cheese sandwich, catching sight of her reflection in the window. She realised how messy she looked, with stains on her white T-shirt from the dark graphite pencils she used for drawing, one of them stuck into her hair. There were smudges on her nose, and her black linen trousers were both baggy and creased from sitting so long. She had dressed for comfort, not style but now she felt slightly awkward about looking so unkempt in front of Rory. Not that she cared what he thought about her, but it felt like a disadvantage all the same. She quickly cleaned her face with a dampened towel, pulled the pencil out of her hair and tried her best to smooth it. There was nothing to be done about the T-shirt or the crumpled trousers, but she was at least cleaner and tidier. Then she suddenly remembered something and her heart nearly stopped. She had forgotten to put away the sketches she was working on. The ones with the bear. He wouldn’t recognise himself in the sketches, but Lucille had given her a photo of Rory, which she had propped up on her worktable. She forgot all about her appearance as she hurried out of the kitchen. She had to hide those drawings and the photo before Rory saw them.

But it was too late. When Ella rushed into the living room, she could see Rory through the glass door to the sunroom, where he was standing at her worktable, looking from the sketchpad to the photo with a strange expression. He looked up as Ella approached and when she came through the door, he held up the page. ‘What is this?’ he asked. ‘Some kind of caricature of me?’

‘No,’ Ella exclaimed, snatching the sketchpad out of his hand.

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