We present an extract from Love & Other Liabilities, the new novel by Fiona McCann.
When a financial crisis sends emotionally-hardened accountant Lily Barrett to the West Cork island of Inish Ruin, to put her deceased Nana's beloved cottage on the market, she’s determined to keep "the feels" to a minimum. No trips down Memory Lane with the islanders who once felt like family. And definitely no reunion with the boy who broke her heart.
But the cottage needs fixing and an elderly bride-to-be has moved in with all her belongings! And Lily’s inherited a dog that terrifies her. While her irrepressible flatmate – who’s tagged along uninvited – is falling for the minibus driver and in no hurry to leave.
But as Lily's woes mount as fast as her bank balance plummets, can the island work its magic? For in a place where well-intentioned meddlers run rife – can Lily really hang on to her secrets? Or get past the terrible hurt that made Love such a Liability?
If Lily Barrett had ever imagined herself returning to this place, it wouldn't have been broke, in disguise or with an attention-attracting happy-head in tow.
Cassandra whooped to a halt beside her, forcing disembarking passengers to veer as she managed a low bounce under the weight of her overstuffed rucksack.
'They have a bus, Lily! I knew there had to be one!’
Dressed for the wilds in a flamingo-pink singlet and satin shorts, with hiking boots on her feet and a zebra-striped bandanna in her hair, her flatmate had been preparing herself both mentally and stylistically for this ordeal since early morning.
Lily steered her down the pier before she could announce their arrival any louder. Casual Inconspicuous was her own look for the day and while the August heat had ruled out a trench coat and the sea breeze made hiding behind a newspaper hazardous, her top was shapeless, her baggy shorts unflattering and her distinctive mane of auburn hair tucked out of sight under a baseball cap. Head down, she could be any day-tripper to the island. That was how she wanted it. The fewer people who knew she was home – she corrected that thought sharply – who knew she was here the better.
‘There’s no bus,’ she murmured. ‘Everyone just walks.’
But Cassandra was still looking as though she’d won the lottery. ‘But over there, though. See?’
Lily followed her line of sight as the milling crowds parted to reveal a rusting minibus into which bags and bodies were being unceremoniously thrown. A fair-haired man in jeans and a tight T-shirt was having an easy time hustling for business. He handed a middle-aged woman into the last empty seat and made promises to return ‘in no time’ for everyone else.
Lily bit on a chunk of cheek until it hurt. Thirty seconds on Inish Ruin and she was already off-kilter, unsure if it was the things that were different or the things that were the same that unsettled her most.
She pushed her mirrored shades further up the bridge of her nose as she cast a glance back to her only means of escape. The West Cork Ferries logo was the same but Seánie Murphy had got himself a bigger boat sometime in the last decade: metal instead of wood, two decks instead of one and the crossing from the mainland that had always taken twenty-four minutes now took just seventeen.
Seánie would recognise her as easily as any islander if he got a good look at her, but his attention was currently on his crew as they tossed trays of groceries onto the pier. Like his boat, he was now bigger round the middle too. But his face was exactly as Lily remembered it, weathered to a ruddy sheen with a tweed cap pushing down unruly tufts of white hair.
His gaze shifted in her direction and she snapped into motion to join Cassandra at the end of a rapidly forming queue.
‘You really grew up here?’ Cassandra’s face was beaming as a sweep of her hand took in the small harbour, then back across the bay, all the way to the mainland town of Cúltrá with its necklace of gleaming yachts.
‘It always looks good in the sunshine,’ Lily admitted, ‘but you wouldn’t like it in winter with the sea spray hitting your window from half a mile away.’
‘But you’d have cosy fires and be curled up in front of the telly while the wind howled.’
‘With rubbish channels? No mobile coverage? No–’
Cassandra held up her phone and grinned. ‘You can stop trying to wind me up about this place. Free Wi-Fi.’
Lily stared at the full bars of signal in disbelief. When had that happened? When she’d been here the frustration level from lack of signal was so high that no one was bothering with mobiles. If you needed to reach someone you used the landline or you got on your bike and pedalled. But, as everyone she’d loved then lived less than ten minutes away, it hadn’t felt that much of a hardship.
Nothing had felt hard about living here, in truth. Except being sent away.
‘First you tell me we’ve to walk when there’s a bus,’ said Cassandra. ‘Next not to bother with my phone ’cause it won’t work. Are you sure it’s a cottage we’ll be staying in? It’s not going to turn out to be a hotel with a nice spa, is it? Seaweed wraps and sea-salt scrubs? Oh my God, I’m right, aren’t I? It’s a surprise to celebrate my new job. Ah, Lily, you shouldn’t–’
‘I didn’t,’ she said quickly, before expectations could run any wilder. ‘Sure I didn’t even know you were coming until yesterday, when you just announced you’d bought a ticket. It’s just a cottage, I swear. Old. Small. Nothing to get excited about.’
But Cassandra’s enthusiasm was undimmed. ‘I just know it’ll be gorgeous.’ She turned away and started photographing a pile of old fishing nets that had been weighted down with a tractor tyre.
The words ‘quaint’ and ‘cute’ were uttered.
And Lily sought refuge in calculations. There were forty-two people ahead of them in this colourful queue, their clothes flapping in the breeze like oversized bunting. The minibus had rattled off full to capacity with nine souls aboard. The island boasted just 4 kilometres of road but the best of the beaches lay on the far side and speed was severely restricted – by the terrain as much as the faded speed-limit sign by the pier wall. They’d be here an hour.
A group of teenagers had apparently reached the same conclusion. They headed off at a marching pace, sleeping bags strapped to their rucksacks and plastic bags clinking from their wrists.
The ferry engine suddenly growled to life with a chug and belch of diesel fumes.
Lily chanced another glance behind her to see the crew hauling in the ropes. Then the vessel slowly pulled away from the pier as Seánie reversed it, with practised ease, into the start of his turn.
No escape now.
‘Could we please walk?’ she said.
Cassandra reluctantly agreed to try what her legs might accomplish. The steep hill from the pier nearly finished her though. She clutched her stomach at the top and demanded to know which side her appendix was on.
The minibus tooted as it passed them on its way back down.
Cassandra held up her hand in a plea for mercy.
The driver acknowledged it with a friendly wave and carried on and only Lily’s promise it was almost all downhill from here could move her on again.
Cassandra whipped off her bandanna and wiped her forehead with it, releasing a mass of golden curls. ‘I suppose that means we’re going south,’ she surmised as the road dipped.
With the morning sun beating hard on their backs, Lily scrutinised Cassandra’s face for comedy. Found none. ‘Umm …’
Love & Other Liabilities is published by Poolbeg Press
