‘Blackberries,’ Ruby says proudly. ‘Straight from the bush. I’ve never felt more like Bear Grylls.’
‘All organic and vegan too, girls,’ Mammy says with a nod, even though I’m not convinced she’s 100 per cent on what either of those two words mean. ‘Make sure and tell your pals that if it’s a weekend glamping in the countryside they want, they need to come to ShayMar Farm in Ballygobbard.’
‘ShayMar Farm?’ I don’t think anyone around here’s named their farm. It’s always just Doyles or Ryans or whatever, but I suppose now that the eco farm is a tourist attraction, it needed a name. And this one is perfect.
‘That’s right, pet. Shay for Seamus and Mar for Marian.’
‘Ah, Mammy, that’s lovely.’ Her and Daddy’s names together bring a lump to my throat. She reaches out to take my hand. ‘But what about Constance?’ I say. ‘She’s your partner, isn’t she?’
‘I just couldn’t make the Con work, Aisling. She understood.’
‘It’s fabulous,’ Sadhbh says. ‘I can’t wait to spread the word.’
‘Hen parties a speciality,’ Mammy says, going straight into business mode. ‘Every need catered for. You can book it all online because the website is going to be,’ she takes a breath and leaves a dramatic pause, ‘transactional.’
‘Transactional, Mammy?’ I say, surprised.
Majella looks at me and raises her eyebrows. ‘Transactional, is it now?’
‘Oh yes,’ Mammy says proudly. ‘It has to be in this day and age, girls. Millennials don’t want to be talking on the phone. They want to book their team-building experiences and weekend escapes on their tablets and what have you.’
Sadhbh, Elaine and Ruby all look equal parts amused and impressed.
‘Mammy’s started a computer course in Knock Town Hall,’ I say by way of explanation.
‘Honestly, I don’t know why I resisted it for so long,’ Mammy goes. ‘Tessie Daly just wanted to learn how to send a Gmail and I was only hoping to get quicker at my touch typing, but I’m really enjoying it. I’m actually thinking of getting into coding.’
‘Well, fair fucks, Marian,’ Ruby says, raising her glass. ‘You’re an inspiration to us all.’
I look down at my wellies and around at everyone else in their finery. ‘I might run and get changed.’
‘Hang on, Ais!’ Majella calls from where she’s wiping what I assume is alpaca shite off her boot. How did I not even notice she was dolled up when I arrived? The snakey so-and-so. I hang back for her and she slings her arm through mine. ‘You don’t mind, do you Ais? I know you said you didn’t want anything but you’ve been so good to me with the wedding and I just –’
‘No, no. It’s great.’ I sigh. ‘Do you know what it was? I was just feeling a bit left behind, you know? Single again and living at home with Mammy on my thirtieth birthday. It’s not what I had imagined for myself. Remember the diary?’
‘I said it before and I’ll say it again, twenty-seven out of thirty is a very respectable score. You’re flying! And you don’t need –’
I cut her off. ‘I know, I know. New Aisling doesn’t care about settling down and getting the ring and all that, but with James gone now I’m feeling a bit, I don’t know, lonely, I suppose. Thank God work is mad enough to keep me busy.’
Majella gives me a big smile. ‘I think you’ll be just fine. And besides, have you finished Moby Dick yet?’
She’s got me there. I’ll have to renew it from the library again. ‘Thirty, Majella. It’s so old.’
‘It’s the new twenty,’ she says with a smile.
‘I know. And I am grand. Onwards and upwards, eh?’ I squeeze her arm and she peels away from me back to the party.
‘Onwards and upwards, bird,’ she calls behind her. ‘Now go and change those wellies. The state of you.’
I’m walking back towards the house through the yard, which is decked out in fairy lights, repeating a mantra Colette Green said she writes on her mirror and says to herself when she’s brushing her teeth.
‘I will have patience in the timeline of my life. I will have patience in the timeline of my life.’ Now, I think Colette was asking for good thoughts for her scented drawer liners to be stocked in Brown Thomases, but sure everyone has their goals. I break into a little jog, desperate to put on a bit of brown mascara and a slick of Heather Shimmer, not to mention losing the wellies. While I’m at it, I decide to have a quick controlled cry here in the safety of the dark yard. Between panicking about Majella’s wedding dress and then the shock of the party, my nerves feel like elastic bands stretched to breaking point. I look behind me and can see all my friends through the big shed window. Pablo is swinging Majella around and going to do himself or someone else an injury. Sharon and Cyclops are kissing on a bale of hay. I let the hot tears fall down my face, my shoulders heaving. It feels good. I turn to head into the house and fix myself up and there’s a crunch of footsteps on the gravel. I freeze. Not a bloody alpaca, surely?
‘Are you alright, Aisling?’
It’s John. Of all people. I swat at my face, wiping the tears away with my palms. It’s dark enough that maybe he can’t see that I’ve been crying. Although he’s not deaf.
‘I was just tightening a few things up in the yurts. Your mother asked me to do one last check. She said there was the party tonight, alright, but I didn’t think it would be –’
‘Oh no. No. You should come. It’s grand. Is Megan …?’
‘She’s at a hen. Galway, I think. I got a picture of no fewer than three blow-up dolls. My mother nearly saw it. Can you imagine?’
‘Jesus. Wigs on the green.’
The following four excruciating seconds of silence threaten to turn into five but he breaks it, thank God. ‘Your mother asked if I know anything about websites. She wants to make the eco-farm site transactional.’
John has always been something of a technological guru to Mammy, despite the fact I’ve told her multiple times he’s a mechanical engineer and doesn’t in fact work in IT. ‘He’s in computers,’ I overheard her proudly telling everyone at my Granny Reilly’s funeral, me and John’s first public appearance since we got together at my twenty-first. All my aunts were convinced he was going to be the next Steve Jobs.
‘You don’t know anything about making websites,’ I retort.
‘I watched a few YouTube tutorials,’ he replies with a smile. ‘It’s very hard to say no to her. You don’t mind?’
‘No, no, not at all.’
‘Okay. Well, happy birthday, and … look after yourself, okay?’
He crunches away across the gravel and I relax my shoulders down from around my ears. I need another drink. I need another ten drinks. I need another ten drinks and then I need to maybe drunk-text James. Life is too short for this carry-on.
12
A quick change into my polka-dot tea dress and Good Heeled Boots and four drinks later I’m in much better form. Sadhbh has commandeered the playlist and it’s wall-to-wall Beyoncé. Even Mammy is dancing. Maj grabs my hand and twirls me around and around and around – I’ll be puking onto a bale of hay if she keeps it up. She spins and spins and I try to focus on one thing to keep from getting too dizzy – a trick I was taught in Irish dancing. My medals are all still up in one of the boxes under the bed. I pick a point above the door of the shed and keep bringing my gaze back to it.
I spin and spin and spin and spin and something catches my eye at the door. Someone. It couldn’t be. I rotate one more time and force myself to a stop, staggering slightly and trying to focus.
It is. Standing at the door, in a beautiful blue shirt, is James Matthews, holding a present. I look, dazed, at Maj and she just smiles and shrugs innocently. I look back at James and he smiles nervously and beckons me over. I feel all eyes on me as I try to walk in a straight line towards him, and as I reach him he backs out of the shed door into the relative darkness. We stand and look at each other for a moment before he opens his arms and suggests, ‘Hug?’
&nbs
p; I’m surprised at the force with which I throw myself at him. I really missed him, I missed those arms – I really wanted to feel them today.
‘I was going to text you! Tonight!’ I say into his shoulder before pulling back. ‘I really was. I was looking forward to it.’
‘What were you going to say?’ He laughs. He looks relieved.
‘I don’t know yet. It would have depended on how many drinks I’d had.’
He laughs again and shoves the present into my hands. It’s wrapped in blue tissue paper and festooned with an elaborate bow that I’m almost certain Sumira Singh had something to do with. She’s famed locally for her prowess with a ribbon. My stomach does a somersault. I wasn’t expecting to see 98 per cent of the people I’ve seen this evening, and I definitely wasn’t expecting to see him.
‘What are you doing here, James? You didn’t come just for the party? We’re not –’
‘Well, no, not just for the party. That’s just a nice coincidence. I got a call the other day that I wasn’t really expecting.’
‘It wasn’t from Liberia, was it? That’s a scam, James. They nearly got Joe Duffy himself a few weeks ago.’
‘Who?’
‘Joe Duffy. From the radio.’
‘Is Lassie Brennan not the chap with the radio show?’
‘No, you’re thinking of Skippy Brennan. You’ve got your telly animals mixed up.’
‘I think I have,’ he says with a smile and my stomach flips again. ‘But it wasn’t a scam. It was about a work contract. Here, in BGB.’
I’ve always loved the way his smooth accent rolls out the letters B-G-B. It sounds so incongruous coming out of his mouth.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘And?’
‘It’s the renovation of Garbally Stud, Aisling,’ he says. ‘I’ve been offered the contract. The company originally signed on has gone bust. I got the call, flew back, met with them today and they’ve offered me the tender.’
I’m dumbfounded. I grip the box with my two hands. He carries on nervously. ‘If I’m honest, I let them know I was interested weeks ago. I didn’t want to leave.’
‘What about the work in England?’
‘I can hire someone else to cover it. This Garbally job is big and there’s a quick turnaround. And, of course, it would mean I’d be back in BGB for the work. But I’d also be back for you, Aisling. I miss you.’
‘I miss you too.’ It’s out before I can stop myself. It’s true, I do miss him.
‘I won’t take it unless you want me to. I like it here. I like you. So much. But I won’t take it unless you want me to.’
A hundred things spill through my head. My workload, the stress of the hen, my vow to stay single. But also James and the gorgeous way he treats me and the countless ‘what ifs’ I thought to myself when we were together. I look into the shed where Pablo and Majella are in a clinch up against the chocolate-fountain table. Mammy read online that hen parties go mad for chocolate fountains so she ordered two and got a free fondue set and she’s trying them all out at the party. Elaine and Ruby are talking to Cyclops, Sharon and Liam Kelly. Liam is showing something on his phone to the others. Probably pictures of the baby. He’s awful cute, Cumhall, despite having an abnormally large head. Sadhbh is on the phone making a gooey face. Probably talking to Don.
‘You’re making me nervous, Aisling,’ James says shakily and I realise I still haven’t answered him. ‘Why don’t you open your present?’
I pull off the elaborate bow and find my voice again, asking him suspiciously, ‘Did Sumira Singh do this for you?’
He laughs and nods. ‘I must admit, she did. She banged on the window of the hire car I was in on Main Street earlier. It was like she could smell me.’
I rip off the blue paper and open the box. Nestled inside is a rose gold Daniel Wellington watch. I gasp. All of my favourite influencers have been parading them around their wheat-coloured houses for months now. I’ve been deeply coveting one. That’s not all, though. There’s something else wrapped in more of the blue paper. I hand the watch to James and peel it back and a little ‘ah’ slips out of my mouth. It’s the ticket stub from our trip to Knock cinema. The cute bastard. I throw my arms around him again, pushing aside any doubts and whispering in his ear, ‘You better stay.’
‘You’re so cute together,’ Elaine says approvingly ten minutes later. James and I had re-entered the party to some mortifying squeals, me with my new watch on my arm.
‘Cute, but like chalk and cheese,’ she continues. ‘Like your one and your man – ah, what’s their names?’ She jigs up and down, trying to jog her memory.
‘Brian and Pippa?’ I offer hopefully.
She shakes her head, face screwed up in concentration. ‘You know them. She’s poor and he’s dead posh.’
‘Harry and Meghan?’ I’m feeling less hopeful.
‘Nooo, ah what is it?’
Sadhbh looks as helpless as me and shrugs just as Elaine’s face lights up.
‘Doctor Dolittle!’
‘The lad who talks to the animals? Thanks a million, Elaine.’
Sadhbh is creasing herself and can hardly get the words out. ‘E … E … Eliza Doolittle. My Fair Lady.’
‘Yes!’ Elaine is delighted with herself. Majella points out the window to where James is deep in conversation with Constance Swinford under the lights at the barbecue on the other side of the shed. ‘There he is now, with his people. I wonder will you have your own servant when he brings you home to meet the parents in Downton Abbey, Ais?’
‘Majella, stop!’ Sadhbh laughs. ‘James is lovely. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of posh. Nothing at all.” She nods at the watch and I blush.
‘I’m just codding.’ Majella slings an arm around my shoulder. ‘I’m delighted he’s back.’
‘You knew he was coming, you snake,’ I accuse her, laughing.
She holds her hands up. ‘I did. I did. He has good manners, that man. He asked me if it would be okay if he showed up, and after you telling me you were missing him, I said, ‘Who am I to stand in the way of true love?’ and gave him the green light.’
True love? Steady on, Maj. I look out at James and feel a swell of warmth for him. It’s a lot to process, sure. And having to make the decision for him to come back was a lot. I can’t just go back on it the way Suzanne Corcoran dropped out of her arts degree when she discovered there was no painting.
‘He’s going to be a great plus-one for Maj’s wedding. He’ll look fantastic in a suit,’ says Sadhbh approvingly.
That’s true. I’d been sort of dreading going alone, even though I know Maj will have me kept busy. It will definitely be nice to have James on my arm.
‘Speaking of which, get that ridey boyfriend of yours on the phone there, Sadhbh,’ Majella says, nudging her.
A claw of panic grips at my throat as I remember about The Peigs and the wedding. Does Maj think I’ve asked? Is there about to be a scene?
‘He’ll be in bed.’ Sadhbh laughs.
‘He’d better be dreaming about my wedding playlist.’
My breath catches and I watch Sadhbh’s face for the inevitable confusion but she just laughs harder. ‘He’s said under no circumstances will they be covering Ronan Keating.’
‘Spoilsport!’
What the–?
Majella clocks my face. ‘You were obviously stressed out about it from the moment I asked you, Ais, so I just went straight to the source.’
My stomach loosens ever so slightly. All that worrying for nothing. I really wish Maj had told me.
‘Don said himself that they’d love to do it. To my face. Well, on FaceTime.’
‘We’ve been having a lot of clandestine chats to plan your party,’ Sadhbh says conspiratorially. ‘Don couldn’t resist Majella’s pitch.’
I’m sure he couldn’t. She’ll have them at the top table with her and Pablo if they’re not careful.
‘I’ve been a Peigs fan since day dot. My loyalty deserves rewards!’ comes Majella’s mock
indignation as she stalks off to the drinks table for a refill.
‘I know you have,’ Sadhbh calls after her, laughing. And then she leans in to me. ‘She asked him to disregard any tweets, Facebook messages or handwritten notes and cards she may or may not have sent him in the past two years “in the spirit of our new and very special friendship”.’
‘Oh, sure, last time she saw him she was holding his hand for twenty minutes and she didn’t even notice. He had to pry it off to go to the toilet. And she definitely put his straw in her bag.’ When Majella loves something, she really loves it. ‘I’m sure she’ll have calmed down by the wedding.’
Sadhbh waves her hand. ‘It’s no problem. Me and Don were going to the wedding anyway, and the lads are up for playing as long as we can give them a bed.’
‘We can give them a bloody yurt if they want one. I was going to ask you about them playing myself but I didn’t want you thinking I was taking liberties.’
‘We’re friends, Aisling. Don’t worry about stuff like that. And you’re so good to Majella.’
‘It’s the biggest day of her life. It has to be perfect.’
‘And what about you?’ She gives me a dig in the ribs and her eyebrows shoot up as she nods out at James, Constance and Mammy deep in conversation. ‘What a birthday present, eh?’
As if James has heard her, he suddenly looks up, catches the two of us gawping at him and smiles shyly with a little wave. Sadhbh shrieks and waves back, leaving James laughing as she drags me back to the chocolate fountain.
‘Look at you now, with a man like that to round off your thirtieth birthday.’ She’s piling a paper plate with chunks of pineapple and strawberry to dip into the melted gushes of chocolate, as if she can’t even see the mounds of marshmallows there only waiting for their go. ‘He’s obviously been mad about you since day one, and why wouldn’t he be?’ she continues. ‘You’re a catch just as much as he is, by the way, and don’t forget that.’
I think about James’s shy smile and warm brown eyes and can’t help but smile myself. I walk over to the barbecue to rescue him from the two ladies. When I reach him, he has a burger in one hand and a hot dog in the other and Mammy is trying to force a corn on the cob into his shirt pocket.
Once, Twice, Three Times an Aisling Page 10