Chapter Thirty-Three
As expected, Lucy and Rory were rudely awakened by the pummelling of tiny fists against the wooden door. There was no lock, but at least the twins had knocked before bursting in with the strength and enthusiasm that only two nine-year-olds could muster. Despite the early hour, the identical blond boys came barrelling into the room at what felt like a hundred miles an hour, with decibel levels through the roof as they shrieked, ‘Uncle Rory!!’ and jumped on to the bed, paying little attention to the newcomer in the room.
Muttering under his breath, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get rid of them!’ to Lucy who was still half asleep, he shouted, ‘Right, you little rascals!’ and got out of bed. He scooped up both of the offending children, one under each arm, and carried them out of the bedroom so that Lucy could have a little longer in bed. She could hear the boys shrieking in delight as they were taken downstairs and out of earshot by their beloved uncle.
Having given herself time to wake up properly, Lucy tiptoed down the corridor and washed herself in the ancient enamel bathtub, brushing her teeth and drinking some water. She was still feeling tired and a little disorientated, something she hoped was down to waking up somewhere new and nothing more. She was beginning to feel terrified that she might be pregnant. Excited too, in a way, for the desire for a baby had not left her, but terrified about what such a revelation would do to Rory, to their relationship. It was all so perfect, she was so happy and she just couldn’t bear the thought of putting it all in jeopardy. She knew that she couldn’t go back in time, but if she had only known Rory was about to come into her life she doubted she would have gone through with the treatment. She would much rather have the chance to create a family with him, with the man she loved.
Back in the bedroom, Lucy opened the little curtains and gasped as she took in the view. The rolling hills, all different shades of green, were spectacular, some covered in woodland and some stretching up and out towards the sky. In the background she could see the famous Great Sugar Loaf. A smattering of snow coated the top like white icing on a sticky bun. She could see at once why Ireland was called the Emerald Isle and in particular why Wicklow was known as the ‘Garden of Ireland’. It was breathtaking.
Suddenly feeling as excited as she had done as a small child on Christmas Eve, she longed to get outside and explore. She pulled on a pair of jeans, some boots and a coral jumper, applied some make-up, and then went downstairs to find Rory. He was in the kitchen with Trina, Trish, the twins Connor and Darragh, and Trish’s younger daughter, Rosie, who was five. They were all sitting at the table happily munching on bowls of cereal of various sizes, reminding Lucy of the bears in the story of Goldilocks with their bowls of porridge.
The children peered shyly at Lucy through their blonde fringes, pausing mid mouthful with spoons in the air to size up this newcomer into their midst.
Trina said, ‘Good morning, love!’ giving Lucy a hug before turning to her grandchildren. ‘Kids, I would like you to meet Lucy, Uncle Rory’s lovely girlfriend!’ she said.
They spluttered ‘Hi!’ and ‘Morning!’ in response, the boys giggling into their cereal at the word ‘girlfriend’, before returning to the much more important task of eating breakfast. Rosie continued to fix Lucy with her dark brown eyes, smiling coyly whenever she caught Lucy returning her gaze.
Rory set about making Lucy a cup of coffee while Trina enquired whether she had slept well and if she was feeling okay. She wasn’t feeling particularly hungry, but thought it would be rude to turn down breakfast, so she agreed to a piece of toast and sat down with the others at the large, scrubbed pine table, the wood etched with markings from over a century of happy family meals.
After breakfast, Rory announced that he and Lucy had work to do. ‘We’ll be gone for an hour or so,’ he said.
The twins started to bounce on their seats in excitement.
‘Are you going to make us a treasure hunt, Uncle Rory?’ asked Connor.
‘Pleeeeeeease!’ begged Darragh.
‘PLEEEAASE!’ they all pleaded as Rory and Lucy pulled on coats and boots and made their way to the door.
Refusing to reveal the motive behind their early morning excursion, he said, ‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ ruffling the three curly mops of hair and laughing at their expectant, pleading faces.
He led Lucy out of the back door and they stalked across the lush green grass down the hill away from the house. The sun glistened on the coating of frost that clung to each blade, creating an optical illusion of stalks of crystal shattering underneath their wellington boots. Behind the house the mountains stood majestically like ancient leaders calmly surveying their realm. At the bottom of the hill dense woodland spread out before them, an enchanted forest full of whispering trees and secret hiding places.
‘These are the famous woods,’ said Lucy, clapping her hands in glee. ‘Are we going to see the treehouse?’ she asked.
‘We certainly are,’ said Rory. ‘And on the way, we’ll set out our clues.’
‘What’ll the treasure be?’ asked Lucy.
Rory reached into his Barbour pocket and pulled out a bag of sweets that he had picked up duty-free. ‘Trish’ll kill me for the sugar high!’ he chuckled mischievously as he dangled the cellophane bag stuffed with jewel-coloured wrappers in the air.
‘Oh dear! As if those boys need any more energy than they already have!’ laughed Lucy. ‘Right, you had better show me how to make the trail; I’ve never made a treasure hunt before!’
For the next hour or so they trudged through the woodland, stamping on bracken and flattening out the pathway as they went. They used little twigs to create arrows at various intervals along the way, showing the route. Whenever the path became unclear they made a cross on the floor, instructing the explorers to turn back. It was great fun. Rory was fuelled by memories of his childhood, mucking about in the woods with his siblings, and he recounted them to Lucy as they worked. At the end of the trail, Lucy finally laid eyes on the huge, ramshackle tree house that Uncle Seamus had built.
‘There it is!’ Rory said.
‘Oh, WOW!’ said Lucy. ‘It’s so much more incredible than I expected.’
It really was quite a feat. The rooms were constructed around the thickest, sturdiest boughs of three towering oak trees. A complex system of ropes and pulleys threaded through the woodwork. A recently replaced rope ladder dangled from the left-hand side.
‘Wait there,’ said Rory. ‘I’m just going to check it out to make sure it’s all safe then you can come up.’ Rory grabbed hold of the ladder and held it steady before scrambling up it with surprising ease. A patch of sunlight streamed through an opening in the trees where a tree stump stood like a welcoming seat.
Feeling ludicrously exhausted after the morning’s exertions, Lucy sat down and basked in the sunshine while she waited.
A few minutes later, having completed some basic checks on the tree house, Rory helped Lucy up the ladder, holding it for her as she pulled herself up. She gasped in delight as she reached the top, imagining how exciting it must have been for them all as small children to have this amazing den. Rory showed her around and they peered out from the windows, the perfect position to spy on the world below. He proceeded to show her all the best secret hiding spaces, and how to operate the pulley to haul up the tray for snacks. Lastly, Rory led her over to his favourite spot, a wall full from top to bottom of carvings, etched by tiny hands with rusty penknife blades, their names and the names of their friends, complete with dates and coded messages in spiky, childish writing.
‘How sweet!’ Lucy cried, running her fingers over the uneven surface of the wood. Suddenly, she spotted a new addition to the etchings, clearly freshly carved in the top right-hand corner a short while before, while Lucy had been waiting on the tree stump. The letters R and L were encased in a wonky heart, the date etched beneath it. Lucy looked up at Rory who was watching her reaction. ‘You did one for us!’ she cried. ‘I can’t believe it!’
