Brute Force

14

Ruby had fallen asleep again after our last 'comfort stop', as Tallulah called them, and Tallulah had finally come up front to get a better view.

'Knocks spots off Herne Hill.' She turned and looked at me, doing her best to relax.

I wanted to tell her that she didn't have to try so hard, that I knew coming with a relative stranger on this trip was a big deal, but I didn't know how.

'This is so good of you, Nick.'

'What? Agreeing not to sing?'

'You know very well. I want you to know . . . well, I couldn't have faced . . . Ruby's really excited.'

'So am I. I can't wait to play with the present I got you. I'm glad she's asleep.'

'Why?' She looked concerned.

I nodded towards another road sign. An Clochán Liath. 'She might have asked what that meant.'

Tallulah smiled. She hadn't just bought Top Of The Morning or whatever Irish Hello! was called – she'd also got herself a guidebook. 'I don't know how to pronounce it, but it's how they write Dungloe – it refers to the grey-coloured stepping stones which the townspeople once used to cross the river.' She read on: ' "The hills and cliffs of North West Donegal are still relatively unfrequented and little restraint is put on walkers. There are walks to suit all ages and interests. In the immediate vicinity you will find stunning unspoiled beaches, forest walks, quiet country roads and a wealth of historical sites to explore." '

'And a wide selection of pubs. I've done a bit of research too . . .'

'No you haven't. That applies to every village in Ireland.' She gave a little laugh. It was a rare thing, and sounded good.

'Everything OK?'

She looked down at her lap. 'Mind if I ask you something, Nick? There must be plenty of other ways you could have been spending Christmas. What would you normally do? Family?'

I shook my head. 'Telly and the microwave. You're doing me a favour.'

She hesitated. 'Thing is, Nick, I need to make sure we're clear about something—'

'I think we'd better stop right here.'

I pulled up outside a small mini-mart. It was only just past four but already getting dark. The shop window lights reflected off the pavement. The woman who looked after the cottage was going to stick a pint of milk and a few other basics in the fridge when she came in to air the place and make sure the immersion heater was on, but we had to buy everything else. I switched off the engine. 'She's still asleep. You stay. What's her favourite cereal and stuff?'

'Shouldn't I – I mean, if I'm cooking . . .?'

'This is your holiday. I'll do it. It's OK, there's a microwave. Prepare to be amazed. Man and machine in perfect harmony. Organic or ordinary?'

'What?'

'Baked beans.'