Chapter 5
Her old dog Rocko was licking her face. He always did this in the mornings and his breath stank. Annie couldn’t smell the breath which was strange. She could smell something else, something fresh. Like Christmas, but damp. Christmas trees, that’s what it was, lot’s of Christmas trees. A forest full of them in the early morning rain and Rocko licking her face.
Annie jerked awake, opening her eyes to darkness. There was no Rocko, the roof of the tent was dripping rain water onto her face as the wind howled outside through the pine trees around the campsite, that’s what she could smell.
“Oh crap” she thought, panicking but not know what to do; sitting there doing nothing instead.
“Oh crap, oh crap.”
What was the time she wondered, looking around her. How long had she been asleep? Hunting through the sleeping bag and the clothes she had taken into the tent she finally found her phone inside the arm of her coat. The illuminated screen read 9:15pm as the low battery notice flashed in the corner of the screen.
Why hadn’t she thought about getting a battery pack for charging the phone? Thomas hadn’t suggested that.
Would the tent last the night? Annie, wasn’t convinced.
Unzipping the tent slightly and sticking her head out, she could see almost nothing in the darkness except her car which seemed to be sheltering the tent from the worst of the wind and rain.
“If the wind changes directions I’ll be blown away,” she worried, irrationally.
Quickly putting her coat and jeans back on and struggling her way into her boots, now covered in dry caked mud, she decided to jump in the car and warm up while considering her options. Before getting out she cleared what little there was in the tent to the side away from the dripping in the centre. Better to stop anything getting more wet than it already was, especially the sleeping bag and the air mattress.
“It’s a pity I haven’t got a bucket or something else to catch the water in,” Annie thought, watching the growing puddle of water for a second before hastily unzipping the tent, jumping out, rezipping it and dashing to the car.
It took what felt like an eternity for the car to warm up as Annie blasted the heaters, but eventually she was warm-ish.
“What do I do now?” she contemplated.
Realistically, having spent last night in a fancy hotel and splurging today on camping gear, she couldn’t afford another night in a hotel and she really didn’t want to trawl the town looking for a B&B in the current weather. It was only a little leak in the tent at the moment, and, considering that the car was blocking the worst of the wind and heaviest of the rain was being caught by the tree above the tent, maybe the tent could survive.
“If only there was something I could put in the tent to collect the leaking water in to keep the tent as dry as possible. Then I could wait out the worst of the storm here,” she thought, playing around with the idea, “or even better, I could wait in a pub.”
Then she remembered; there was a basin and a few rags in the boot of the car that would do the job and she could stay in the pub she had seen around the corner while the weather died down.
Feeling happier now having made a decisive choice, and feeling considerably warmer, Annie made the dash from the front seat of the car to the boot before diving into the tent, keeping her boots on this time. What was a little bit of muck now, she thought.
There was only a small puddle in the middle of the tent’s floor that she mopped up with the rags before placing the basin under the steady drip of water.
“Sorted,” she said, proud of her actions in the face of potential disaster.
After all that she could do with a white wine spritzer.
…
The pub was only about 200 yards around the corner, past the campsite’s portacabin reception, but by the time she reached the pub’s big wooden door Annie was already soaked through. The painted sign above the door read ‘DALY’S PUBLIC HOUSE’ in white peeling letters.
“No one will ever believe me when I tell them just how much it rains in Ireland,” she thought as she pushed the door open and was met by a warm blast of air and the buzz of people talking, glasses clinking and Bruce Springsteen serenading from them the jukebox.
“You can’t start a fire, you can’t start a fire without a spark,” Springsteen sang.
“I would love a fire right now.”
The pub was already packed but she spotted an empty stool at the bar, close to where a traditional Irish band were setting up. She figured they were a traditional band as she didn’t recognise any of the instruments. There was something that looked like a guitar with a very long neck lying across two stools, and a round flat looking drum was propped against a chair.
Clambering onto the high stool with as much dignity as possible, Annie tried to catch the eye of the only barmaid who was serving a large group of men at the other end of the bar. There was maybe twenty of them, she tried to do a quick headcount. They looked like they were members of a sports team on a club night out, Annie wondered if she would be better off catching one of their eyes instead.
Mid thought she was startled by a loud deep voice from right beside her.
“What can I get you?” the voice boomed.
Spinning around her eyes met with a tall, bearded man, with dark hair and rugged features, as if he had spent a long time standing against the wind that howled outside.
“Ah,” she said, caught off card.
“Take your time,” he said, with a smile and laugh.
Annie found herself in a daze, she had completely forgotten what she wanted. She was lost in his face.
“Oh, what did I want?” he laughed back, her cheeks reddening, “a white wine spritzer, that was it!”
“Any specific wine?”
“House is fined,” she smiled back, gaining her composure.
“Coming right up” he said as he disappeared to the other end of the bar, Annie examining him as he walked off.
Tall dark and handsome wasn’t normally her thing, and she tended to find beards messy and untidy, but he had really stirred something inside her. She couldn’t remember ever having been left speechless by face before.
She tried to compose herself as he came back towards her.
“Here we go” he said, placing the very full looking glass in front of her, “that will be 6 euro, please.”
“Thanks,” she said, handing over her card before gesturing over her shoulder, “It’s busy in here tonight.”
“Always is when it’s a wet one like this,” he replied, with his thick sing-song Irish accent; Annie was getting lost in his voice now, he could have been saying anything but she clung to every word.
“People like the fire,” he was continuing, unaware of Annie’s doting, “if you had been a little earlier you might have grabbed one of the armchairs in front of it.”
He nodded to where a couple of middle-aged women were sitting gossiping, glasses of red wine in hand.
“Oh yes,” she said, looking over her shoulder at the fire in the corner she had missed.
The husbands of the women sat behind them, talking about football or horses or something, Annie thought.
“Anyway, there you are” he smiled again, handing her card and receipt back.
She was panicking inside again and wasn’t sure what to say, so she just smiled back and lifted her glass to distract herself.
“Oh, thank you,” she said as he moved down the bar a bit.
“Who’s next,” he announced to the line of people waiting down the bar, oblivious still of Annie’s nerves, and he was gone.
“You stupid woman,” Annie chastised herself as she tried not to stare after him, “he probably thinks you’re a silly English airhead now.”
She replayed the conversation in her head, flinching as she remember how she froze when he first spoke, feeling the red rising again in her cheeks. At least by the time she finished her wine she wouldn’t care about it.