Ireland Romance

So that was Ballyshanasy Castle.

To “Blue” it looked like it was growing out of the craggy cliffs that overlooked the sea on the Dingle Peninsular, grey-brown in the mist. It was what the Irish called a “soft” day. The incessant light and shade play of the showers coming in from across the vast Atlantic, had given way to a pearlescent mist that made the scene seem mysterious even romantic. She would not have been surprised to see a unicorn coming over the grey green fields with a garland of flowers about its neck. She stopped the Honda bike she was driving and pulled over by the side of the road to better appreciate it.

She cast her proffessional eye over the scene and thought what a challenge it would be to capture the constantly changeing light of this country on paper. It was a watercolour world. Sometimes still and misty; sometimes changing from sunshine to shadow with the capricious will of of a leprachaun. She could hardly wait to get her watercolours out to try and capture the romantic scene she saw before her. It was funny how things just happened to you sometimes.

How strange life is less than a week ago she had been sitting in her studio at home in Attwood Avenue Madison overlooking the Lake just wondering how she was going to do the artwork for that new brand of toothpaste. They wanted something sexy and romantic.

How the hell do you make toothpaste romantic and sexy for chrissake? For a second she conjured up an image of a tube of toothpaste attached to a battery with a cap like a rocket ship’s nose. “Peppermint dildo!” She’d love to see the face on the prissy director of the agency when she opened up the folder. But she had her job to keep. Pity though. It’d probably sell like hot cakes.

Then the phone rang.

“Ah Blue. If it isn’t me favourite Colleen.” The voice was deep, strong and had Irish blarney written all over it. And that’s just what she felt like at this moment.

She knew the voice. It was Brendan MacPherson. He was an executive in the finance department of one of Ireland’s new booming software development companies. She had met him briefly but memorably when she was attending a graphics convention she had attended in the Big Apple.

He had been attending his own convention, and she had met one night after the seminars were over in the bar of the hotel they were staying at. His eyes smiled when he did, and she liked that. He had dark curly hair that framed a face constantly creasing up in a smile that spelt devilment. But most of all....the voice...that accent. Oh it would charm the pants off a 90 year old spinster. How could she resist.

Next morning, facing another round of seminars and small talk, Blue could feel everyone looking at her. Surely everyone could see her satisfied smile and the rings under her eyes. Damn trying to stay a wake. She could hardly walk!!!

She left at the lunch time break and just lay in her room, thinking how lucky she had been and reliving the night before in her memory. Then she slowly drifted off dreaming of Ireland and of one Irishman in particular.

She woke at 8:00 PM. God she felt like a Korbel and Coke! She dragged herself down to the bar again and there was Brendan.

“I’ve been waitin’ for ya me darlin’. Don’t think I could stand another night like that!” But his grin told her he could. And his eyes convinced her that she could too.

And that’s how it was for the rest of the week. This was an advertising convention that she would never forget. And one that, if she was asked for a report, she could never remember.

They said their goodbyes at Idlewilde and she convinced herself that the departure only added a piquancy to a relationship that was too hot to last long anyway, and left writing off Brendan as a pleasant memory.

And here was his voice again. Her heart leapt un-nervingly even after all this time.

“Hi Brendan. Long time no see!”

“Ah you’ll live in me memory forever you spunky thing. But I was wonderin’. You said you’d like to come over to Ireland one day. Well here’s a chance for you, me darlin’. I’ve just bought this small property on the West Coast, and I need someone to look after it for a while. I thought I might “do it up” and open it to American tourists who still can’t forget their Irish heritage. But I’ve got business in Europe. Getting pretty busy what with the EEC and all. Won’t be able to do much for a month or two. Need a caretaker. Pay you well.”

“Why me?” Blue didn’t want to appear too anxious.

“Oh you’ve got taste me darlin’. I thought at the same time you were lookin’ after the place ya might be able to develop the sort of interior decoration that would get all those compatriots of yours racin’ over the Atlantic and makin’ me a heap o’ money. You know kitsch but authentic.”

“Well I...this is such a surprise...”

“O’ course if ya aren’t interested........”

Three days later Blue was on the Concord and hours after that she was landing in Heathrow. She had flown to Dublin on a local commuter craft, and there found to her delight that she could hire a Motor Bike for the rest of the Journey across Ireland.

She could have hired a car. Brendan had not stinted on expenses. But she preferred to drive down the Irish lanes with the wind and rain in her hair and the smell of peat in her nostrils.

Now here she was. looking up through the mist at this craggy castle growing out of the beetle browed cliff face overlooking the wild Atlantic Ocean.

Small property!!! It was a genuine castle. Probably been there since the thirteenth century. She drove up the hill to the castle itself. Up close it was even larger than it had looked from down below. Must be at least thirty rooms. Upkeep would be a task and a half. Still it would probably make a good resort.

In the middle of the ground floor, looking like the mouth of some petrified Gothic giant was a huge arched door.

“All that’s missing is the drawbridge moat and portcullis” though Blue wryly as she stopped the bike and went up to the door.

“Is anyone at home?” she called. There was a huge brass knocker on the door, but Blue thought it would be more friendly somehow if she could make contact with her voice. Brendan had mentioned that a Mrs. Macgillicuddy (how they’d giggled at that name) was looking after the place until she arrived. Apparently she lived in the village about a mile (they had kilometres over here now didn’t they?) from the castle itself. But the castle remained silent and in the gloaming more and more foreboding by the minute.

At last she used the knocker. Its deep thud resonated down what Blue imagines would be long dark passages inside the castle.

This had an immediate effect. From deep in the bowels of the castle came the excited yelping of a number of dogs. She could hear them as they came racing to the front door. They sounded more curious than aggressive.

“Hang on. Hang on I’ comin’ I’m comin’’ It was a female voice which sounded none to pleased at being roused by the knock on the door.

It still took a while before the door opened and inch or two and two ancient eyes and a craggy face peered out into the evening gloom. At her feet were the curious eyes of two of the most beautiful Red Irish setters she had ever seen. She would have died to have hair that colour. Come to think of she did. Well at least she used a tint!

“And who might you be?”

“Name’s Blue Gill. Brendan said.....”

“Ah the American.. Funny name ya got. Sounds like some sort of a fish....Well Mr McPherson told me you’d be here soon. Better be comin’’ in then. Don’t mind the dogs. They wouldn’t hurt a flea. They might lick you to death though!”

The door opened to reveal a small bone wizened up woman whose facial structure revealed that at one time she must have been quite a beauty. She still had a bright eyed intelligence and he straight bearing attested to someone who still viewed herself with pride even though time had wrinkled her face.

“Ah you’re quite a beauty.” she said eying Blue up and down critically. “Just like Mr. McPherson to get someone good lookin’.. Still you can’t judge a book by it’s cover, you could still be a nice person..”

The candour of the judgements amused Blue. She smiled at the lady with genuine affection that one independent lady has for another.

“Thank you.. You must be...” and she paused so that she could regain enough composure to say the name without a gratuitous smile....”Mrs Magillicuddy.”

“That’s right. Let me show you around. and then you can settle in. Or would you like a cup of tea first?”

“No thanks”...There was no mention of coffee. “No I’d like to have a look around.”

Mrs Macgillicuddy knew a lot about the castle and it’s history and it was half an hour before the duo and the dogs made their way up the oak staircase to where a bedroom had been prepared for Blue’s arrival. By that time Blue knew all about the history of the castle and half the gossip of the village down below in the valley.

When she first glimpsed the room it took Blues breath away.

The room was huge, at least thirty feet wide by almost forty feet deep. There were two windows merely narrow but tall in the wall opposite through which could be heard the incessant beating of the waves against the rocks below.

The walls were panelled in rich dark oak which reflected the light from the dozen or so candles in candleholders attached to the walls. The room seemed to coruscate and undulate giving the impression it too was underwater as the small drafts caught the wavering candlelight making a continuous display of shadows throughout the room.

A huge mirror had been installed in one wall, and it made Blue intrigued about the sexual proclivities of the previous owner.

And the bed......

It too was huge. It could have easily accommodated six people. A genuine four poster. with a cornice of rich red velvet hangings at each corner that were held by a cord and could be drawn for complete privacy.

Blue was feeling more and more to the manor born every second.

However it was the painting on the wall that caught and held Blue’s gaze. It was of a huge muscular man naked to the waist and dressed only in a tartan kilt. His hair was an unruly mess that framed a face of such savage sexuality that Blue at once wanted to gaze into those piercing eyes which challenged her and at the same time look away almost embarrassed at the sensations she had deep in her body.

“Who’s that?” she asked, as much to lighten the tension the picture built up in her as to request genuine information.

“Oh that, Mrs Gill. That is Cuchulainin. He was the King of the Celts, long before Christianity came to this land. He was loved by the Earth Goddesses and was king because of his relationship with them.”

“Earth Goddesses?”

“Yes she changes her face according to the seasons. She was the maiden of Spring, the Lady of Summer, the Mother of Autumn and the Cailleach ( old one) of winter. She represented germination, growth, fruition and decay, and reminds us that just as it cannot always be summer death and winter also come. But she is not to be feared. A world without decay is just as difficult to contemplate as a world where spring never comes.”

“But Goddesses? It thought you Catholics only believed in a male God.”

“The earth mother ruled the world for thousands of years before man invented a God in his image. No the Earth mother is not forgotten. She exists deep within each of us, as natural as the cycles of this world. She is not expunged from our ancient souls simply because a Jewish religion was imported here a mere two thousand years ago. And neither my dear should we forget Cuchulainin.”

The elderly dignified woman caught Blue’s eyes with a gaze of passion. The fire of the ages flared in her soul and Blue was suddenly aware of the sea venting its frustration on the ancient rocks below.

For an unknown time the world seemed to stand still as if in some mystic trance, and when Blue came back to reality the woman was gone.

Blue was on her own.

(Look out for part 2)

To anyone who read Melora.... this is something completely different. An attempt at writing a romantic erotic story with "real" people. I hope you like "Blue" (who is based on a real lady) as much as I do.... I would love comments from readers on what sort of genre they like best....