The whole thing seemed incredibly strange. Connor slid off the edge of his bed and slumped down onto the floor. He picked up a Lego Star Wars fighter jet and began to dismantle it piece by piece. “It’s too cold here,” he said. “It’s nothing like New York at all.”
Ronan shook his head, bending down in front of his son. Connor didn’t look up, but it was pretty clear he was waiting with baited breath to see what his father would say. “It’s just as cold in New York as it is here,” Ronan informed him. “But no, you’re right. The island’s very different to the city. You’ve got fresh air here. Places to run and play outside. Doesn’t that sound like it would be a fun thing to do? You could even learn how to sail in the summer time. You told me you wanted to do that.”
Connor looked up, over Ronan’s shoulder, straight at me. Only for a second, but the eye contact was long enough to see the fear in his eyes. “I don’t like new people,” he whispered to Ronan.
“It’s okay. Ophelia will only feel new for a little while, and then it’ll be normal that she’s here. Okay?”
Connor didn’t look so sure about that. I’d had to win kids over every single time a new school year started, so I wasn’t worried about tackling that challenge. If I could find a level to connect with him on, we’d be fine. At least that was how it was with normal seven-year-olds. This was a unique situation, though. Connor had lost his mom, and that turned everything on its head.
Ronan seemed completely in love with his children, and they were equally besotted with him. It was surprising: I’d assumed he’d be awkward and irritable around them considering his desperation to spend the next six months locked away in his study while I looked after them, but the opposite was true. He collected Connor up in his arms and sat him in his lap on the floor, chattering and asking him questions about the menagerie of plastic animals he was lining up like they were about to walk two by two into Noah’s Arc. Amie eventually went and sat with them too, using her Stegosaurus to attack Connor’s lions, giraffes and zebras.
Cold, cold Ronan laughed and played along. It seemed he had a warm heart after all, even if it was reserved for some people over others. I couldn’t stop myself from softening to him as I leaned against the wall by the door, watching them quietly play. Then again, I didn’t exactly try and stop myself. Ronan, despite our rocky first meeting and his casual way of implying I wanted to sleep my way through the inhabitants of the island, was weirdly growing on me.
“You’ll probably want to go and get settled now,” he said, catching me off guard when he looked up at me and spoke. “Your room’s the one at the very end of the hall on the right. I had one of the cleaning girls fetch some shampoo and soaps. A hairdryer. That kind of thing. I figured you wouldn’t have time for grocery shopping for a couple of days. The fridge is fully stocked as well. It’ll probably take you the next week to adjust here. After that, I’m sure you’ll have found your feet.”
“They didn’t need to do that. I brought a bunch of stuff with me from home. And don’t worry about grocery shopping or anything like that. I can manage. I’m very capable.”
Ronan gave me an odd, distracted smile, eyes directed right at my face, though I couldn’t help but feel as though he was staring straight through me. “Oh, I know that, Ophelia. That’s why I hired you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Note
My room was something out of a hotel brochure, all white linens and soft, luxurious throws. A comfortable reading chair was angled by the window to catch the light, and a small desk against the wall was stacked high with books—Causeway Island Wildlife, A guide to East Coast Islands, Patrick Kavanagh and Other Remarkable Irish Poets of the Twentieth Century. It seemed Ronan wanted me to fall in love with The Causeway, and had provided with me enough reading material to make it happen.
I didn’t join the family for dinner. Ronan wanted to spend time alone with the children before I got to work tomorrow, and to be honest I was relieved. I used the expansive kitchen on the first floor to cook up a fresh fillet of salmon, some greens and carrots, and I camped out in my room, watching unfamiliar TV shows on the huge flat screen TV in my bedroom. At around eight thirty I tiptoed downstairs to make sure everything was okay—the huge, echoing house was full of shrieks and screams, loud enough to wake the dead. When I stuck my head through the door to the lounge, what I saw made me laugh.