For a second I felt helpless and wondered if I was going to be a rough sleeper when she said, “Most places will be full and the beds that are left have been left for a reason… mainly that you wouldn’t leave your dog there.”
“Thanks, that makes me feel a whole lot better,” I replied without an ounce of humor, then as if she had a flash of inspiration she grabbed her cell and held her finger up for me to wait. Swiping her phone, she scrolled down until she found what she was looking for then connected a call.
“Daisy, can you put a guy up for the night?” she listened then giggled, sweetly. “No, I don’t think so.” She looked up at me and bit her lip, “he doesn’t look like a mass murderer… he’s Canadian, I think.”
“Actually, I’m an American,” I offered, but she put her finger in her ear and turned away from me.
“Yeah, he is. He looks like your crush from that band that Paddy what-his-name’s in. That’s it, DistRoyed!” She said from her side of the conversation and turned, checking me out again. Once her eyes had raked over my face and torso she turned away cupping her hand over the phone as if she was telling a secret.
“Actually, I think he’s even better looking than Jamie Fontaine.”
I bit back a small smile that had threatened to spread on my lips as she listened for a few seconds more, before exclaiming, “I am! I wouldn’t bullshit you like this.”
The woman on the other end said something and the clerk listened intently. “I swear on St. Patrick’s life… you know a saint is dead, right?” she giggled again before glancing quickly to me and clearing her throat. “Right, I’m sending him over.”
After placing her phone back in her purse, she suddenly stared at me as if she had only just realized I had been privy to her conversation. Her face grew pink, and she busily tidied round her counter, unable to look me in the eye. I had to smile even though I wasn’t sure what the deal was because her shyness was cute considering the conversation she’d had on my behalf.
A few more seconds passed as she gathered her composure and then she gave me a welcoming smile like it was the first time she’d seen me.
“This is highly irregular, but in the circumstance and the awkward predicament you’re in, I called someone to see if she could help you. Daisy, my friend, has a pub with a function room. She’s holding an event this weekend, a thing called a ceilidh.”
I knew what that was courtesy of Finley, the taxi driver. “That’s a dance, right?” Her face brightened that she didn’t have to explain it to me, but I was intrigued as to where the conversation was going.
“She’s agreed to put you up overnight if you’ll work helping to collect glasses. The bar gets hectic and they need a glass washer.” Her simple request made me chuckle because she really had no idea who I was.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket to see if I could figure something else out. I’d had no signal since I’d landed, but my phone was off. When I’d tried to turn it on again, I realized my battery had drained. Donna had the portable charger kit in her bag and I was stumped.
At that moment I drew a blank as to what to do. With my options extremely limited I had little choice but to accept the offer and go to find Daisy.
Maria, as the check-in clerk was called, was finishing her shift and offered to take me to the pub, an offer I was grateful of, because for one, she knew where the pub was, and secondly, she had no idea who I was. Better her than risk another cab where someone may have recognized me.
One thing I couldn’t believe was a young girl offering a male stranger a lift. I thought her mother needed to have a word with her about that. I made a mental note to suggest she shouldn’t do it again once she had dropped me off, but the air of trust in the people here felt different to most other places I had ever been. Either Maria had an innate ability to sniff out danger, or she was too trusting.
It had only been a couple of hours since I’d landed in Dublin, but the friendliness and familiarity of the people had made me feel welcome. Even when most couldn’t help me, they were still pleasant about it. When I thought how Maria had gone out of her way it humbled me.
During the journey to the pub I learned the check-in job was only a filler as Maria was reading English at Dublin University, that Daisy was really her older sister, Frances’s friend, and that Maria worked for Daisy sometimes. I also learned Daisy had two younger sisters who were both away at college.
I was right in my assumption that people gave me far more information than I needed, but it was very nice to learn something about the folks I met during my journey.
I was concerned when Maria told me that when we arrived at our destination, there would be nowhere to park her car. She said as soon as she stopped outside the Lucky Shamrock Pub, I’d have to be ready to jump out as traffic was forbidden to stop there.
For about two hundred yards she kept telling me to be ready. My eyes scanned the small buildings for the name of the pub as my heart thumped hard in anticipation for the moment I’d have to get out. Even though it was a small action, I felt the tension within me build. It was almost on a par with going on stage and as she pulled alongside the sidewalk, I felt like I was in a movie waiting for the director to call, 'Action'.
“Now,” she said with a sense of urgency that left me fumbling for the door handle. I launched myself onto the sidewalk with my bag. Closing the door, I quickly thanked her, which didn’t feel adequate for everything she'd done. Maria grinned, and I smiled back as she waved and drove away. I watched her tiny car get swallowed up in the traffic before I turned to take in my new surroundings of the pub.
The Lucky Shamrock pub was a small building with four, small, rectangular windows above and two long paneled ones with a single door at the center. The wooden framed door was painted a rich bottle green and the pub name was embossed in Gold overhead. Flakes of snow began to fall heavily seemingly out of nowhere as I stood there and once again, I felt my vulnerability. Swallowing roughly, I took a deep breath, pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Chapter Two
The instant I pushed the door open my nostrils were filled with the rich aromas of stale beer and spirits—smells I recognized instantly from my previous tours of UK pubs. The atmosphere felt immediately warm and inviting. Peals of laughter filled the air and the buzz of the place mingled with the heat radiating out from a large roaring fire that burned in the grate.
Stepping up to the bar, my eyes connected with a beautiful, petite woman with short blonde hair. She looked about twenty-five. I was surprised someone so young was managing a public house. She was expertly pulling a pint of velvety looking black stout that I instantly recognized as Ireland’s world famous brand. It began to overflow when I distracted her and she quickly glanced down at what she’d done and pushed the pump closed to stem the flow.
“Shite,” she cussed and glanced back to me again, then quickly wiped the bottom of the glass on a small beer mat. “Here, it's on the house,” she told her customer. “Terry, I’m taking five,” she said hurriedly, to a handsome guy on the same side of the bar as her. He gave her a ‘thumbs up’ sign that she never saw because she was still staring at me.