An Unexpected Summer

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Misty glared out of the dark-tinted Mercedes window at the passing countryside. Her mind was racing with angry thoughts, competing with the increasing volume of her iPod. A scowl crinkled her pale forehead, and her smoky grey eyes shot daggers at her step-brother, Blaise, who was lounging in the leather seat next to her, his dark blond hair flopping into his eyes, his iPod turned up so loud she could hear the irritating jangle of his heavy metal music.

“Honey, are you okay?” her mother, Isabelle, enquired, twisting her strawberry-blond head around to face Misty.

Misty considered the question. It depended on the context, she decided. Physically she was fine. But emotionally she was not. Firstly she hadn’t wanted to leave Dublin; she would miss the vibrant city life, her old house, and of course her two best friends, Maggie and Julia. Not that she had spoken to either of them since the death of her Frisian mare three months earlier; she had been too consumed with grief to face their usual chatter.

Midnight had died giving birth to Darkstar, the black colt now in the horse trailer they were towing behind the flashy car. Her mother made her keep him, insisting that he would one day be a great horse. True, his bloodlines were brilliant. Midnight had competed at an outstandingly high level of show-jumping, and he had been sired by one of her Aunt’s prize-winning racehorses. But Misty was certain that she could never love a horse as much as she’d loved Midnight, especially not the one that had caused her death. She knew it wasn’t right to blame the colt, but it didn’t help that Darkstar was just like Midnight in appearance. Just one glance at his sleek black coat, fluffy feathered legs and big doe eyes brought tears to her own.

Thinking of it, she seemed to have been holding a lot of grudges lately. One against her colt, one against her stepfather. Liam was perfectly nice (although his son, Blaise, was horrible), but it was his fault they were moving. He was the owner of a prosperous publishing and editing business, and had a client, an author of nature books, who lived in Connemara. Arriving home from a trip to seal the deal, he returned with the news that he had bought a derelict 18th century manor house, near to the cottage where his client lived, intending to set up a new business there. Isabelle was delighted (although Misty suspected she has been aware of the plan before); according to her it was “the perfect place to raise a family”. So they’d just packed up and left.

Twiddling a long strand of wavy hair, that had escaped the messy bun Misty had pulled her dark red hair into, she answered her mother’s question.

“I’m fine.”

*

“Do you know where the keys are for the farmhouse?” asked Meryl, putting the handbrake on and cutting of the engine. Rachel bent down and grabbed the sheath of papers resting on her bag.

“You will pass a pub . . . small roundabout . . . drive through a farm . . .” Rachel scanned through the instructions she had been given when she booked the farmhouse. “Ah ha,” she said, triumphantly. “Here it is. ‘ You will find the keys situated in a coded box in the porch above the boot rack. The code is: 717-688-439.’”

“Okey-dokey,” said Meryl, taking a deep breath. She smiled at Rachel. “Holiday pandemonium here we come!”

“All-right, troops,” she shouted over the noise. “Out you get!” She switched off the child lock and slid out the car. The children were clambering out and looking at the farmhouse, apart from Kyle who was reading a philosophy book, and Rochelle was having a screaming fit about a fat worm, which was slithering over her boot. Jack and Jake were running around, whooping, their raucous screams echoing through the night.

The farmhouse held a lot of country charm. With its white, stone exterior and acres of surrounding land, it was the perfect get-away.

Bethany had already marched up to the porch.

“717-688-439 wasn’t it?” she inquired, her hand hovering over the number pad.

“717-68 . . . yeah, yeah, it is,” replied Rachel, walking up to join her. Retrieving the keys, Bethany inserted them into the door and wiggled them around. The lock clicked and the door swung open. Rachel surveyed the interior. Before them was an extensive lounge area, with an old fireplace, complete with snaking black chimney, and big television propped against the far, opposite wall. With its back to them, facing the fireplace and T.V was a large leather corner sofa.

Closer to them was a big oak table with ten chairs around it and to the left of that was a rustic kitchen. At the far right end was what looked like a laundry room and conservatory.

Meryl, who had come up behind them, grinned. Rachel loved open plan.

Bethany had disappeared, running back to the car to grab her Kipling rucksack and wheelie suitcase.

“Bags I have first choice of bedroom!” she shouted, racing up the wooden stairs, dragging her case behind her.

“Hold on,” said Meryl. “Rachel and I chose first!”

Bethany sighed.

“Fine,” she said. “But I get first dibs after you.”

It turned out that there was a big room next to the conservatory with two spacious double beds and a big wardrobe and chest of drawers, near the downstairs bathroom. Meryl and Rachel took that, and then shoved the children up the stairs. Jake and Jack decided on a small room with bunk beds as it meant they could climb about like monkeys, and Kyle took the single room at the end as because it had a bookcase stuffed full of volumes and a large metal desk.

After much deliberation, Rose took the other single room at the other end as it had an albeit derelict, but intact dolls house. James had bunk bed room all to his self, and Rochelle argued her way into claiming a big room with a yellow theme and cream walls. Bethany took the other big room with a double bed, right at the other end. The walls were covered in a delightful shade of willow-green and a thick, beige carpet covered the floor. It also had a balcony that over-looked countless fields and little streams. The bedroom also had an en-suite like the other double room.

Exhausted after their long journey, they all climbed their beds, the dogs stretched out on the sofa downstairs.

By the time Grandfather clock in the hall struck midnight, everyone was asleep.