Jessie called. ‘What was the rush? Are you okay?’
‘We saw you running in!’ Dilly was hot on her heels. ‘Do you need the loo?’
‘I’m fine, sweetie. But, Jessie, this place is amazing! I can’t even – I mean, thank you for inviting me.’
‘You’re more than welcome.’ Jessie lit up with pleasure.
‘Mum.’ Bridey was inside and heading for the stairs. ‘I don’t want to share with Dilly.’
‘Charming,’ Dilly said.
‘How old is it?’ Nell asked Jessie. ‘The house?’
‘Two hundred and fifty years, something like that.’ Then, ‘NO!’ She raised her hand to Bridey. ‘No! It’s agreed, you’re sharing with her and that’s that.’
‘Nell,’ Liam called, ‘am I to bring in our stuff all by myself?’
More and more Caseys were gathering in the hall, dragging bags, bumping against the people ahead of them.
‘Liam, let her be!’ Jessie said. ‘She’s in raptures about the house.’
‘Raptures!’ Dilly cried.
‘Saoirse and Robyn, you’re over in the barn.’ Jessie shooed them away.
‘The barn?’ they heard Robyn say. ‘Seriously?’
‘It’s super-cosy.’ Saoirse sounded anxious.
‘Lil bitch,’ Jessie whispered to Nell. ‘The barn is the best place. C’mon.’ She took Nell by the arm. ‘Come and see the kitchen.’
‘I’m not Bridey’s biggest fan either.’ Dilly chatted away to herself. ‘But I didn’t tell her.’
‘Regardez,’ Jessie breathed.
The kitchen was a large, light, rectangular room. Dominating the centre was a giant slab of amber-veined marble, over which sheaves of lavender hung from a suspended pot-holder. Decoratively carved cupboards painted a creamy apricot opened noiselessly to reveal bread, pasta, breakfast cereals and condiments.
‘Where did all the food come from?’
‘And drink.’ Jessie pointed out gallons of water, slabs of beer and boxes of wine. ‘Pre-stock of groceries.’
It was another world, a rich people’s one.
‘It’ll all be gone by tomorrow,’ Jessie said. ‘But it’s handy not to have to head to the supermarket the minute you arrive.’
Three French windows opened onto a long dining table, which could probably seat twenty, under a pergola woven through with wisteria. Just past it lay a herb garden drenched in sunlight. Jessie smiled, as if she were gazing at a basket of puppies. ‘Most days I think I’ve fallen out of love with cooking.’
‘Do you?’ Nell was surprised.
‘Ah, yeah, you know yourself. Cooking for kids would kill anyone’s joy. But this kitchen always rekindles the magic.’
‘This sink!’ Bridey had come in with Robyn. ‘You should pay attention too, Nell. This sink is where you rinse off the dishes. See that giant hose. Use that. You must never prepare food in this sink.’
‘Bridey, you’re mean.’ Dilly sounded like she’d rehearsed this. ‘I’m not your biggest fan either, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.’
‘Jessie.’ Johnny stuck his head around the door. ‘I’m going down to Marcello before he starts work and get some practice in on my espresso drinking.’
She came to kiss him on the mouth. ‘Bonne chance, mon brave. Don’t drink too many.’ Then, ‘Nell, would you like to see your bedroom?’
‘Yes, please!’
Accompanied by Jessie, Dilly and now Bridey and TJ, Nell was led upstairs.
OMG, the bedroom! The walls and an arched ceiling were stippled a parchment colour. On the floor was wide-planked white oak. Two walls – two – had beautiful deep-set windows, which fastened with ornate silver hasps, giving views over the olive grove, then to the hills beyond. The furniture, once a pale blue, but now faded to near-white, was unadorned and impeccable. The bed had a simple fabric headboard, in a muted silvery-grey.
‘Oh, wow.’ Nell ran her hand along the bed linen. ‘Jessie, I love it. It’s luxurious but not a bit nouvy.’
‘Nouvy?’ Jessie asked. ‘Short for “nouveau riche”? Bougie, nouvy Jessie!’
‘No, I didn’t say –’
‘Lookit, if the cap fits!’
The more Nell spotted, the more impressed she was. Everything worked. The plug sockets were in exactly the right places. You didn’t need a degree in advanced mathematics to figure out the lighting.
But when she saw the attached bathroom, a vision in white and cobalt blue marble, her face changed.
‘Feeling guilty?’ Jessie asked.
‘No.’ Then, ‘Ah, sorry.’
‘Well, this is the best bit. I’ve been dying to tell you! Little story: we came here five years ago, booked through an agent and, yeah, it wasn’t cheap. First three nights we went to the same restaurant in the village, run by Loretta and Marcello. We hit it off, stayed late, having the chats, free limoncello, the usual. I invited them to us on their free night, said I’d cook something Irish. I was pissed, like, you know how it is. Bougie. And nouvy, obviously. No, Nell, I love that word!