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Now, the sun was struggling to come out. It was quite warm despite the mist. We climbed, looking like the oddest couple in Ireland. I looked like a native with my red hair, freckles, and green eyes. Bill was dark-skinned, exotic-looking. People had looked at us as if to say, “Look at that stranger defiling a good Irish girl.”It didn’t phase us. We were here to soak it all in. I wanted Bill to see where my family was from. I wanted to feel the magic of ancestry. At the top of the hill overlooking vast green fields dotted with thatched cottages, we found the ruins of what was once a monks’ abbey. Grass and weeds had grown through its foundation and vines twined their way around half-standing walls. All at once, I felt a hush and a pause as I surveyed the scene. Something about those ruined abbeys and castles held for me a beautiful mysticism that swept through my whole body. I turned to face my husband. God he looked amazing. His brown hair flowed around his shoulders in the breeze and. ‘Don’t you bloody dare do this to me, not tonight. Don’t you know how often when we have kissed I have wanted to turn my face an inch and taste your lips? Don’t you know that when we have sat in a car or on a sofa or in the cinema or In the pub with our knees touching how much I have wanted to press against you? Do you think that every waking moment with you I haven’t wanted to tell you? Did you not see the want in me when we undressed together for swimming, or for the play? When I did up your dress, could you not feel my eyes burning into the back of your head, my hands hot on your skin? How could you say this now?’ Tears came and I stormed away out into the garden, down a path until I found a seat and slumped down into it and closed my eyes and let the tears fall and the sobs come and wane. ‘You ok?’ I looked up and there stood, Tippi, another of the party, another old friend from way back. ‘Give me a cigarette.’ ‘You don’t smoke.’ ‘Just give me a fucking cigarette.’ Tippi sat.
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