Page 5 of An Irish Hope

“Why did she call me that?”

Maybe because she had eyes and a brain and could tell that Grady sometimes engaged in chauvinistic Romeo behaviour. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“Before the banshee returns?”

She wasn’t a banshee, Andy thought, as his sneakers hit the path and he picked up speed. He’d deserved her scorn. Well, maybe not all of it. But he could imagine his own sister getting upset if he’d wrecked her clothes. Even if it was an accident.

And, dare he admit it, there’d been something kind of appealing in the raw, wild way she’d let him have it with both barrels. She wasn’t embarrassed about speaking her truth. Even if her truth was a little skewed.

He settled into the rhythm of running like he used to, back when he trained for triathlons. Those days felt a million years ago now. Even if it was only two. Still, it was remarkable how much a life could change so dramatically. One minute, training for the Olympics. The next, tearing a calf muscle so badly that the surgeons had said he’d never reach elite status again. He’d wondered if it was that injury that had precipitated Greta’s rapid change of heart, transferring her attention from Andy to his training partner. But again, no good came from thinking like that.

“You’re better off without her anyway,” he muttered, as he dug deeper to ascend the hill. If Greta really was that fickle, it was better he found out before the wedding than after that part about loving and cherishing in sickness and in health. That’s what his family had said anyway, his sister adding that it obviously proved that Greta was so shallow she couldn’t even cope when he’d had a temporary injury.

“Muttering to yourself again?” Grady called.

“Mind your own business,” he snarked back, before realising that was exactly what the curvy bridesmaid had said. His lips slanted up and he put on more speed.

He knew Grady meant well, but taking advice from someone who only had to breathe to get a woman’s attention wasn’t quite the same as it was for most normal blokes.

And Andy knew he was a normal bloke. Brown-red hair his mam called auburn, freckles and brown eyes didn’t hit most as handsome, or so his older sister had teased all his days. It had felt a miracle when Greta had shown interest, and she’d made her interest plain. But now he wondered if her attention had been rooted in the lofty ambitions of his supposed jet-setting competition career rather than his far more humble self.

She hadn’t exactly been shy about asking him to move in with her, or teasing him to dream bigger than his PE teaching career. She hadn’t liked it when he said no, that if teaching was good enough for his parents then it was good enough for him. And staying in his parents’ granny flat was a better way to save money than a place that would’ve stayed empty for weeks while he was away for competitions. Knowing his parents or sisters were likely to barge in at any time had helped keep him from doing things with women that he might regret. That, along with his faith. Which, now he thought about it, was probably also part of the reason why Greta had been happy to move on with someone who didn’t share his supposed “extreme” values about no sex before marriage.

“Good thing you’re over her,” he muttered, “and never think about her at all anymore.” How was it she still had a hold over him after all this time? Lord, set me free.

The path opened up to a clearing, and what looked like the ruins of a castle nestled between a golf course and the sea. Huh. That was unexpected. He knew the place he was staying at was called the Castle Griffin Hotel, but thought that referred to the hotel part being the Griffin Castle. Was this the original instead?

Glad for the distraction, he put his hands on his hips, breathing harder than he liked. Obviously he still had some way to go before he was back to full fitness, but that had been a good workout.

Grady drew alongside him, puffing harder than Andy.

Good. He could still beat him at something.

“Hey a castle. That’s so cool.”

Andy noticed a sign and wandered over. The plaque showed a photo from the 1800s, then gave a spiel about the castle ruins being all that remained after a fire in the 1920s, and an explosion in the sixties designed to deal with the wrecked shell of what was left. His heart twisted, no doubt recognising itself in the description. Not that Greta had exploded anything, except her vow to love him. Her refusal to go through with the wedding had been the fire, and the explosion had happened later, when she’d married a man he’d once counted as one of his friends, leaving Andy shattered.

The long castellated wall of ivy-covered dark grey stones led to square towers either end. He peered through a window-shaped gap into what must have once been part of the family’s living area, now a quiet grassy area, partly portioned into what looked like a vegetable garden.

Grady whistled. “Can you imagine having your own castle?”

“Nope.” He couldn’t think of anything worse. “My granny flat is enough to keep clean, thank you.”

“Sure is.”

Yeah, Grady might tease, but he only said that because he knew Andy had neat-freak genes.

“Sometimes I wish my parents loved me enough to let me live at home instead of kicking me out like they did,” Grady complained.

“Come on, you and I both know they love you and that you deserved it.” After a certain incident involving too much of the black stuff.

“Ah, that was a grand time.” Grady laughed, which drew half a smile from Andy. “Sometimes I don’t know why I am friends with you, when you keep reminding me of things like that.”

“The feeling’s mutual, my friend.”

Grady punched him lightly on the arm. “I have to say it’s nice to see you cracking jokes again.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”