‘It’s beautiful,’ she says dreamily.
‘Ah yes. The orchid room is Mam’s favourite,’ Solomon says, stepping inside. His mother putting her in this room says a lot. ‘My sister Cara is a photographer. These are her photos on canvas. For some reason, she likes to photograph flowers. And stones. But they’re in the stone room. Crazy Uncle Brian is in that room. Mam’s not so keen on stones.’
She laughs. ‘Your family is funny.’
‘That’s one word for them.’ He clears his throat. ‘So the festivities will begin in one hour. About all of Spiddal is about to burst in here, with a song to sing, an instrument to play, a story to tell, or a dance to dance. You are free to stay here, in safety.’
‘I’d like to come.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asks, surprised.
‘Will you sing?’ she asks.
‘Yes, everybody has to do a piece.’
‘I want to hear you sing.’
‘Be warned, they might force you to sing. I’ll try to stop them but I can’t promise you anything. They’re a tough bunch and I have zero sway with them.’
‘I’ll hide in the back,’ she says, and he laughs.
‘Why are you laughing?’
‘The idea of you hiding. Even in a room filled with people you’d stand out.’
She bites her lip at the compliment, which he didn’t intend to sound so corny. He backs away to the door cringing internally.
She mimics his throat-clearing.
‘Exactly,’ he agrees. ‘Awkward. Sorry for that. I’ll give you time to freshen up, shower, whatever. Is thirty minutes okay?’ For Bo, thirty minutes would be enough, she doesn’t spend much time thinking about how she looks, she is naturally beautiful and throws everything together to look cool. Preppy. Brogues and turn-ups, thin cashmere sweaters and blazers like she should be going to Harvard, a J.Crew wet dream. But he’s had girlfriends where thirty minutes wasn’t even enough time to dry their hair.
She nods. ‘Wait.’ She looks nervous. ‘Is it dressy? I don’t really have anything fancy. I made some things but … they’re not really right for here.’
‘What you’re wearing now is perfect. It’s casual.’
She looks relieved and Solomon feels bad that this would have been a concern for her all this time. This is the kind of thing Bo would have done better.
‘What’s the deal with the blonde?’ Donal asks, as Solomon steps out of the shower and finds him lying on the bed in his bedroom. Donal is scrolling through Solomon’s phone.
‘Go ahead, look through my personal stuff, why don’t you.’
‘Where’s cow?’
‘Bo is in Dublin. She was lecturing for film students at the university this afternoon. She couldn’t get here on time.’
Donal sucks in air, but sarcastically. ‘Bet she couldn’t get out of that.’
‘I told her not to even try. It’s a big deal.’
‘Sounds like it is.’ Donal studies him.
Unhappy with his brother’s gaze, he drops his towel from around his waist and holds his hands up in the air. ‘Look no hands!’
‘That’s mature.’
‘Yeah, well,’ Solomon roots in his bag for a clean T-shirt. ‘It’s easier for me that she’s not here,’ he says, back turned, while he hears the click of Donal’s phone. ‘You lads make it hard for me.’
‘We don’t.’ He angles the phone on Solomon’s arse and takes another photo. ‘We’re looking out for you.’
‘By calling her cow.’
He genuinely laughs at that. ‘You said speak English to her.’
Bó is the Irish for cow, something Solomon’s Irish-speaking family delight in calling her.
‘You never give her a break.’
‘It’s only banter.’
‘She doesn’t have the same sense of humour.’
‘Wrong. She doesn’t have a sense of humour. And she barely sees us, so she doesn’t have to put up with us often.’
‘Please stop taking photos of my balls.’
‘But they’re so pretty. I’m going to send them to Mam. She can decorate a new room, call it the bollox room.’
Ashamed to find that childish joke funny, Solomon laughs.
‘So, do you go to Bo’s folks’ place, parties, brunches, soirees and the like?’ he asks putting on a posh Dublin accent.
‘Sometimes. Not very often. Once. Me and Bo are better on our own. Away from our families.’
‘Away from each other.’
‘Come on.’
‘Fine. Last question. Are you going to get married?’
‘Are we going to get married?’ He sighs. ‘You sound like an old woman. Why the fuck do you care if I get married?’
‘Man, I think your dick shrunk when I asked that. Look –’ He holds the camera up to show him. ‘Before I asked the question.’ He slides the image. ‘After.’
Solomon chuckles. ‘It’s a fine thing, you asking me all these questions. Single man of forty-two. You should have been a priest.’
‘Might have got more action,’ Donal says and Solomon rolls his nose up in disgust.
Donal chuckles at his own joke.
‘Seriously, I overhead a conversation between Mam and Dad about you being gay.’