She was wearing strappy high-heeled sandals and her feet were killing her. At least her black skin-tight leather trousers protected her legs from the nippy breeze and drizzly rain, but her hair was getting wet and her red boxy jacket and white T-shirt were not really suitable clothing for a dank, cold autumn night. It wouldn’t have killed him to get a taxi, she thought sourly as she stumbled on a broken cobblestone. ‘Nearly there,’ Carl encouraged. ‘See down there,’ he pointed. ‘That’s Enya’s castle.’ Lorna was impressed. Enya was a neighbour! Wow! He must be loaded. He probably drove a Porsche, or was he more the Beemer type? She wasn’t quite sure yet. She wondered did he have a sea view over Dublin Bay, or even his own stretch of private beach. He was exactly the type of eligible bachelor that she had come to Dublin to meet, she thought triumphantly. It was worth travelling all the way over to Dalkey and this should finally prove her point to Heather, once and for all.
