To Love a Way of Life (4 page)

“What do I do?”

“Only you can figure that out, but I think you should concentrate on the business and let things happen. He might not see you that way.”

“I know, but if I do see him that way how can I work with him.”

“God girl, you’re far too professional to let that get to you. You know your business, concentrate on that.”

Emma knew she was a good accountant. This was new to her though. When she worked in an office she never lusted after the life a plumber lived, and she never fancied the sixty year old dropping a cereal box full of receipts on her desk. Sandra was right though, she’d have to treat this like a job. She could do that.

“Another cupcake?” Sandra asked. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

“I’ll have coffee then, please.”

“Ooh, I like it. You’re fired up, girl.”

E
mma was up at eight that Sunday morning. She’d start driving out to Patrick’s place at ten and she needed to get everything in order. She was meeting Daniel with Patrick at lunch time. She knew he needed to at least show Revenue he had some of his inheritance issues in the process of being sorted.

Emma didn’t know if she could get everything finished with him on the spot down in Ballyhane, or if she’d need to take his files home and work on them. It was quite a drive away, but it didn’t bother her. Her iPod was loaded with music and a few audio books. She decided she’d listen to Queen, and sing along with Freddie. It was perfect driving music.

Patrick had told her to dress comfortably, she’d be on a farm, she might be exposed and it could get a bit mucky. She brought her wellies in case she needed to plod through fields, but she wore her good walking boots for the drive.

Emma was fired up. This would be the first time she did real accountancy work in over a month. This is what she was good at, not rustling up clients. And deep down she was excited to be working with Patrick.

Her talk with Sandra the day before had cleared up some things for her. She liked Patrick, and she liked his life, but it wasn’t the right time to be thinking about anything like that. She would concentrate on helping Daniel get through his issues. He was only a young guy and he’d feel alone having lost both his parents so young. This was the time for Emma to do her accountancy magic.

After an hour’s drive she found the small road that led to Patrick’s cottage. She couldn’t tell if it was a private road or a public road, but it was definitely the one he indicated; full of potholes. As she rounded a bend and began to see over the ditches she saw the cottage, and a number of other structures. They all had paving in front of them and they looked like old working buildings.

Patrick had obviously heard her drive up and was standing outside his front door. Stan was next to him, jumping about. That dog was too excitable.

Emma parked up and stepped out of her car. Stan bounded over to her and jumped up on her front. She ruffled his head, and gave him a big scratch. “It’s good to see you Stan! I missed you.”

“He’s been excited all day,” Patrick said. “I think he knew we’d be having a visitor.”

“Do you get many visitors?” Emma asked.

“A few, I’m fixing up some of the buildings so I can have a place for friends to stay. They seem to like it here.”

“I can see why.”

Emma looked out over Patrick’s little plot of land. There was a stone wall that surrounded a garden, she could hear the clucking of hens and there were a few ducks and a goose wandering around. Behind one stone wall was a little lawn, with roughly hewn wooden furniture. They looked like they were being worked on. Emma wondered if Patrick was building them himself. Cornered off in one little enclave was a garden, well a vegetable patch. There were rows staked out and plants climbed wooden sticks rammed into the ground.

Looking further afield Emma could see an almost uninterrupted view of fields rolling out before her and the hills and mounds undulated to create peaceful vista of different shades of green and brown, only interrupted by a few trees and ditches separating the land. She tried to listen for noise from the road but couldn’t hear any cars. What she could hear was the sound of the animals Patrick kept and the birds twittering in the trees and bushes. It was beautiful.

“Come on,” Patrick said. “We have some time before we have to be at Daniel’s. I have some apple and cinnamon pie just out of the oven.”

“This place is beautiful,” Emma said.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? So different to my ninth storey apartment in London. The only nature there was a few badly-cared-for plants on my balcony.”

As she walked into Patrick’s cottage she could smell the apple pie. Patrick had put his arm around her and given her a little squeeze. It was a touch of encouragement. Emma couldn’t help but remember her conversation with Sandra the day before. She pushed thoughts of spending evenings with Patrick out of her mind and concentrated on the smell of the pie.

“I’m going to put on so much weight,” she said. “I ate three cupcakes yesterday and I can’t imagine I’ll have just one slice of this pie.”

“It’s there to be eaten,” Patrick said. “But not by Stan, not even the crust.”

“You mean I can’t cut my calories by feeding him some under the table.”

“I’ll take him for a walk when we’re finished with Daniel,” Patrick said. “You’re free to join us, if you’re worried about the extra pounds.”

“I think I could get used to this,” Emma admitted.

“That’s the plan,” Patrick said. He laughed as he picked up the pot of coffee and swirled it around.

“I know you prefer tea but this coffee is a favourite of mine.”

“I’m not against coffee,” Emma said. “I’m happy to try a cup.”

“It’s roasted by one of my clients. He buys the beans raw. Twice a year he travels to the Kenyan mountains where they’re grown and inspects everything. He roasts them by hand himself.”

“It smells delicious, anyway.”

Patrick poured a mug for Emma, then brought the pie over to the table. He took two plates from a large traditional kitchen dresser. He cut a slice for Emma, bigger than she really wanted, but taking the first bite she realised she’d happily manage twice that amount.

“Do you get lonely here?” Emma asked.

“I have Stan, and my books and the radio to keep me company,” Patrick said. “And I travel up to the city when I need some hustle and bustle.”

“I don’t know, you’re miles from anyone else.”

“You’d be surprised, the hills hide the cottages close by. A little village is a lot busier than you imagine,” Patrick said. “Are you really wondering if you’d cope?”

“It did cross my mind,” she admitted.

“If you have a car, you’ll be fine,” Patrick said. “But that does bring me around to something I wanted to ask you.”

“Ok,” Emma said. She wasn’t sure where this was going.

“We’re at least 80 miles out from the city, probably further from your place. You’re going to be down here a lot.”

“The petrol will be a cost, but I can manage it. It’s worth it for all this new business.”

“That’s the thing, I think you could be down here five days a week for at least two months.”

Emma paused, she hadn’t realised he had signed her on for that much business. She had thought she’d spend two days down here and the rest working from home.

“I didn’t think there’d be that much work.”

“I’ve talked to a few of my clients. Some are getting audited, and their finances are in a mess,” he said. “They’re making money, and have a surplus, I’ve made sure of that. But—“

“But they’ve let their accounts run away from them.”

“You’re going to be busy. Really busy,” he said. “I’ve even had some people pay up front for your services.”

“About the pay,” Emma knew she had to bring it up.

“I’ve looked at the guidelines for the professional institutions,” Patrick said. “I’ve followed their advised rates. It might take a month or two for everyone to pay up but so far they’ve all agreed to 50% up front.”

Emma was stunned, she really didn’t expect to be getting market rates, or upfront money. And what about Patrick’s cut, it was still his business.

“What about you?” Emma asked. “You still have to earn your way.”

“That’s not important,” he said. “What I wanted to ask you about is the travel, you’re going to be here too often to drive every day.”

“I think I can make it work for market rates. I didn’t really expect to charge small producers that much.”

“We can negotiate discounts for people who need it, my clients know their pay goes to help others, especially anyone up and coming,” he said. “They’ll appreciate if the region has a vibrant business life. It’s good for everyone.”

“I fully agree, a small economy can thrive on local producers. If we can get a business co-op together there’s the possibility of tax breaks, even local government grants.”

“It’s something I’ve been pushing for for a year now. I have a few people on board but I could never handle the tax implications.”

“I can research it, I’ve never done it but I know people who have.”

“Consider that my share of the profit. If you can get some work done on that then it’s a handsome reward for me.”

“I’d do it of my own volition, I really didn’t expect to be paid this much. I’m not a big city accountant,” she said. “I work from my living room, I just don’t have the expenses.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Expenses?”

“No, where you’ll be working from,” he said. “I don’t think it’s right to make you drive over 150 miles every day, not when you don’t have to.”

“I can’t rent a house down here, and the B&Bs are expensive,” she said. “And anyway I couldn’t work in a hotel room.”

“You don’t need a hotel room, or to rent a house.”

Emma could feel the confusion take over her face. She couldn’t move down here, she couldn’t afford to buy a place and if she didn’t rent somewhere here...

“You saw the buildings I have here, one of them is ready for a guest.”

“You want me to stay with you?”

“It’d be your own cottage, I wouldn’t need to go into it. You’d have your own bedroom and an office space. The toilets are hooked up and there’s a small kitchen. The only thing not running is the hot water. Apart from that it’s insulated, warm and furnished.”

“I—“ Emma didn’t know what to say.

“Think about it,” Patrick said. “If this turns out the way it’s shaping up you’ll have a lot of work, and my clients need your help.”

Emma tried to come up with arguments against it. She wouldn’t be near her friends but she rarely saw them during the week anyway. The building looked appropriate, even if it was a little smaller than the place she rented in the city. And not driving 150 miles a day would give her a lot more time.

She realised it was the culture shock, and the abruptness of it that was getting to her.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready for this.”

“That’s ok. I know it’s a lot to take in so quickly,” Patrick said. “You could leave a few things in the cottage, a change of clothes, some nightwear, toothbrush, and I can give you some towels and bedclothes. You don’t have to stay but it’s there if you want to.”

Emma knew how she must have looked when Patrick got up from his chair, he crouched down next to her and took her hands in his. She leaned into towards him and he hugged her. She let her head rest on his shoulder.

“I’m not sure of this,” she said.

She thought of their meal on Friday night. Everything was so easy then, they had talked; about business as well as life and family, and friends. Now she was considering moving to a new part of the country. It wasn’t the other side of the world. She had even talked to Sandra about this, about a rural life with nice clients, and a garden and trees with fruit growing on them. Her biggest worry on Friday night had been whether it was appropriate to hug Patrick, know he was holding her worried body in his arms.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said. “You can handle all this however you want. I’ll work with how you want to work.”

“I know,” Emma said.

“Let me show you the cottage,” he said. “You might hate it, it’s covered in Stan hair.”

A nose pushed between their hug. Stan had noticed what was happening. Emma realised the two men in this house seemed to care for her, Stan and Patrick. She felt silly getting so emotional over a simple offer of a bed, but Patrick seemed to understand what a big step it would be for her. This wasn’t just a few new clients, this could be an entirely new way of life. And it was a little overwhelming. She steeled herself, she was an adult and capable.

Stan had picked up on her mood, he was as good as Patrick at picking out emotions.

“I can deal with Stan hair. Can’t I Stan?” Emma said. “That’s right boy!” The dog had pressed them apart and was glad he was getting some attention. He seemed to be doing a cat impression and had curled himself around Emma. It was just what she needed. She became engrossed in giving Stan belly rubs and ear scratches. Stan was obviously delighted by the attention.

Patrick was on the phone. He was telling Daniel they’d be a little late, but not to worry. Emma didn’t want to keep them waiting, but Patrick reassured her that this actually suited Daniel; he and Peter were busy trying to dig a tree stump out of the ground and needed a little more time before they’d be free. Patrick beckoned to Stan and led the dog and Emma to the cottage she realised could become her temporary home.

The cottage was beautiful, a lot of wooden fixtures, it was like a high quality holiday home. Someone would pay a lot of money for a week in a place like this. Emma was still unsure though, but her thoughts were interrupted when Patrick said it was time to go visit Daniel.

She grabbed her stuff from her car; a few tax forms she figured he might need and her notepad, tablet and a calculator. She never could rely on the one built into her computer. She’d had this calculator since she started college, it was a gift from her Grandfather.

T
he farmhouse they drove to was right on the main road out of the town. Ballyhane looked beautiful, plenty of hanging baskets and stone troughs filled with flowers. There were a few kids playing in the car park of the little supermarket and a little girl hanging around with them eating an ice-cream.