‘You’re looking so well, Nell,’ replied Bronagh. ‘Radiant…’
‘Well, I have had a few weeks off,’ said Mum, ‘thanks to Olivia… and it’s worked, as my hip has totally healed.’
Bronagh was right. Mum looked incredible. She was off the crutches and wearing a slinky mink-coloured top and a pair of white jeans. Maybe that’s what being at peace looked like.
Mum put her arm around me. ‘And I’ve had my wonderful daughter home all this time. Now, that’s what has put a smile on my face.’
‘Which brings me to my news,’ I said. ‘I’ve decided to stay. I’ve been given redundancy and I am going to start up Seasalt again.’
‘You’re staying?’ said Bronagh. ‘You mean, permanently?’
I nodded. ‘I want to stay here… at home. But I’ll find somewhere to rent.’
Bronagh had already let out a shriek and grabbed me. ‘This is the best news ever!’ she shouted, squashing me against her. ‘And you can move in with me. Susie is moving out this weekend so it’s just me and Mies.’
‘I’d love to.’ We grinned at each other.
‘And you can join my yoga class,’ Bronagh said. ‘Saturday mornings. You will love everyone there. And you’ll have to come sea swimming…’
‘Can’t I just wave you off in the morning with my dressing gown on?’ I said. ‘While eating a croissant?’
She laughed. ‘I suppose…’ I grinned at both of them.
‘Girls, if you don’t mind,’ said Mum, ‘I need your advice. Henry and I are going away next weekend and Cara’s going to look after the shop on the Friday and Saturday. But for some reason, I’ve got it into my head to propose to Henry. Do you think it’s a good idea? I know people do it these days, the woman asks the man, and I just know I would like to spend the rest of my life with him.’
‘I think it’s a brilliant idea,’ I said. ‘I think he’s going to love it.’
‘What do you think about the Trevi Fountain?’ she asked. ‘It’s such a beautiful place, but is it too much of a cliché?’
‘Clichés are only clichés because they are the best ideas,’ said Bronagh.
Mum beamed. ‘That’s exactly what I was thinking. And we can go for an ice cream afterwards to celebrate.’
And as I stood there with my wonderful mother and my gorgeous best friend, I felt really and truly and deeply happy. For the first time in my life, I knew without a shadow of a doubt I was making the right decision. I wasn’t remotely scared of what lay ahead.
Bronagh raised her glass. ‘To you, Nell, and your continued adventures. To me and Liv in ours.’
‘But most of all to Mum and Henry,’ I said. And there was one more person I was thinking of. ‘Here’s to Joseph Delaney,’ I said, holding up my glass. ‘Wherever he is. I hope he’s doing well. I hope he’s happy.’
Bronagh touched her glass to mine. ‘Me too,’ she said. ‘To Joseph Delaney. Wherever he is.’
We smiled at each other. Wherever he is. I hoped he was at least somewhere, but even if not, I was determined to try and do what I could to find another few pieces in my jigsaw.
And as for Will… I remembered last night, and him kissing me, and how I’d felt… I couldn’t let disappointment stop me from moving on. I hoped he was happy too, he deserved it, he really did.
32
Roberto: Good luck today. Sorry to miss the fun.
Me: I’ll see you soon. I’ll be back in London soon to pack up.
Roberto: My heart is broken.
Me: At least you have Mary Berry.
Roberto: And Kylie. Always Kylie. Kylie 4ever.
Me: And us. Roberto and Liv 4ever.
Roberto:
The village car park was normally a grey and unprepossessing place but on midsummer afternoon, it was slowly being turned into something of a wonderland. Strings of multicoloured lights criss-crossed overhead, the ground was strewn with heavily scented lavender flowers, at the far end the bonfire was set, ready to be lit later, and the food trucks were waiting, awnings pulled out, generators rumbling. Over at the far corner of the car park, an old man in a threadbare brown suit and pale orange shirt and purple-patterned tie was rifling through a huge black box.
‘Harry Daly? The firework man?’
‘Tis the very one,’ he said, standing to his not very full height, and shaking my hand. His was slightly blackened. ‘I have my box of magic, just setting a few things up. I managed to find a few specially special specials as well. We’ll have them dancing with the stars later, so we will. Magic guaranteed.’
‘I can’t wait,’ I said. ‘Thank you, Harry.’
‘I’ll make sure to book you in for next year,’ he said. ‘So you don’t have to rely on luck.’
‘That would be great.’
‘And good news,’ he said. ‘My friend in China, the firework master? The family were very worried because he didn’t have a son or a grandson to take over the family expertise. But they’ve had a family conference and his granddaughter is now his apprentice.’
‘I am so glad to hear it,’ I said.
‘Now, that’s progress,’ he said. ‘An ancient art is modernised. My own daughter does all my accounts and my granddaughter says she’ll do one of those website things for me.’
I left him kneeling beside his box of magic. Over by the stage, Miss Rachel’s fairies were excitedly dashing around, a blur of sequins and wings, and I spotted Frankie dressed as a forest ninja with twigs in his hair and a camouflage T-shirt practising his pointed toes. Under the oak tree, the tin whistle orchestra were rehearsing a slightly screechy version of ‘Down By The Salley Gardens’. James was rolling a large oak red-wine barrel over to his open-air bar, where he had unfolded chairs and tables and had unfurled large garden umbrellas. Matt was standing inside a converted ice cream van, ready with his cocktail shakers. He’d pulled some of the benches close to the bonfire. Alison was wrapping potatoes in tin foil and placing them at the bottom of the fire.
Bronagh looked at me. ‘What do you think?’
‘It looks beautiful,’ I said. ‘I am particularly looking forward to a margarita from Matt.’
Bernard Murphy was carrying sacks of charcoal on his shoulders. ‘I’ll put my barbecue beside James!’ he called over. ‘Got myself some lovely flanks of steak!’
‘Did you know he was doing a barbecue?’ I said to Bronagh.
‘He must have just decided that there wasn’t enough meat in the world,’ she said. ‘Thankfully, he is not setting up next to Alison and her vegetarian zone. You don’t think we have too much food, do you? I don’t want Mum worrying about the village’s obesity levels.’
‘Is she coming?’
‘Yes, she’s trying to make an effort and being a more supportive mother. And I am trying to be a nicer and more supportive daughter. We’re a work in progress. What about alcohol… too much?’
‘I doubt it. I mean, it’s a family festival, not Woodstock. The parents of the tin-whistlers and the fairies will probably just stay for a while for the face-painting, a baked potato and one of Alison’s smores, and then leave…’
Bronagh nodded. ‘And then the disco and the fireworks… it’s going to be lovely and civilised.’
Fergal and another mountainous man were setting up some of the deckchairs.
Bronagh waved to him. ‘I’ve decided that I will accept any more custard slices he wants to throw in my direction,’ she said.
‘Is that a double entendre?’
‘It might be.’ She winked at me.
At 5 p.m. we both went back to Mum’s to change into something midsummery. I had bought one of the full-length silk dresses from Nell’s and gold flat sandals, Bronagh a black cotton strapless midi dress with black sandals, and we both wore flower crowns made by Catherine.
‘Do we look ridiculous?’ I said, as we both looked at ourselves in the full-length mirror in my bedroom.
‘Yes, but does it matter? We’re wearing our crowns!’
We walk
ed back to the car park, talking all the way. I told her about my plans for Seasalt and seaweed and she told me about how her mum had evicted Mark and had reclaimed the living room and had refused to cook for anyone, even Brian. ‘She’s commandeered the big armchair and is sitting with her feet up watching all the soaps,’ said Bronagh. ‘I think she’s really happy for the first time in her life.’
I thought of Will for a moment and felt a little foolish. You’d have thought he would have just texted to say that he and his wife were giving it another go. But nothing… it just seemed rude. And disappointing. But with my slightly silly but lovely flower crown on my head, I was determined not to let anything spoil my fun.
By 6 p.m., the car park was full and I stood up onstage, looking out at everyone. Behind me, the tin whistle orchestra were ready to start – their tiny instruments in their tiny hands. At the other side of the stage, Miss Rachel and her troupe of fairies and wood nymphs were gathered, all tutus and wings and twigs. Behind them was Henry and a group of bespectacled, hand-knitted cardigan wearers clutching their ukuleles, and beyond, the Mexican food stall was serving tacos and sloshing out margaritas from big jugs. Less adventurous villagers were sticking rather religiously to James’s offerings of Irish wine, while others tried Matt’s cocktails.
I saw all the faces of people I knew. Betty and Jennifer-Louise and Graham were together, Betty with a large glass of wine. Dermot and Catherine were right in front of the stage, ready to watch Jake in the tin whistle orchestra. Mum was there with a group of her friends. Bernard Murphy was flipping burgers on his barbecue, while next to him Mrs O’Keefe sliced bread rolls and squirted ketchup on them. Audrey Kelly was sitting on a deckchair, a large pina colada in her hand. Jessica and her mother were both clutching another of Matt’s cocktails – his tequila sunset. I gave them a wave, before clearing my throat and speaking into the microphone.
‘Hello, everyone,’ I said. ‘It is midsummer’s eve and we are here on this great pagan festival…’ I gave Jessica a look and she winked back, ‘…to celebrate the most magical night of the year. Tonight we celebrate life in our wonderful village, we are raising a glass to all of us Sandycovers.’
Everyone cheered and raised their glasses.
‘And according to folklore, tonight is when the fairies slip from their world to ours, and so it is with great pleasure that I present Miss Rachel’s Midsummer Night’s Fairies, to be followed by the tin whistle orchestra from St Joseph’s National school!’
And I left the stage to more cheering, which seemed a little too excitable, a little too loud.
‘You don’t think everyone seems a little drunk already?’ I said to Bronagh, who had been waiting for me at the bottom of the steps.
‘They do definitely seem drunk,’ she said, ‘as though they have taken some magic potion. Bernard Murphy just downed a margarita as though it was lemonade and Betty’s already got her shoes off.’
I looked over, as Betty, heels in one hand, swayed along to the plink-plonk of Miss Rachel’s keyboard. But Bronagh was right, there was something in the air which seemed to give a slightly heady, heavy atmosphere, as though it was Woodstock, and not some local community festival, as though for this night only, we were one ancient tribe.
When the children were finished performing, the audience cheered them as though it was nothing they had ever seen or heard before. Feet were stamped, arms clapped, throats sore from cheering. Miss Rachel, a little bemused, ushered her fairies offstage, followed by the tin whistlers, each child flying into the arms of their proud and delighted parents. Jake was lifted onto Dermot’s shoulder, his tin whistle held aloft as though it was the Liam MacCarthy Cup. And he was wearing the tiger jumper I had given him, exactly the same as Catherine’s. I’d found an extra-small in the shop and had given it in exchange for the flower crowns. Jake couldn’t have looked happier.
By the time the Sandycove Ukulele Orchestra took to the stage, the audience were as excited as if it was Live Aid.
‘One, two, three…’ The ukulele players counted themselves in, and then they began… with… It took me a while to realise what they were playing, and then, in all its brilliance, I realised it was ‘I Should Be So Lucky’ by Kylie. If only Roberto was here, I thought. Standing here in a church car park, surrounded by lovely people and feeling so completely and happily at home, it wasn’t very often that you catch up with the universe and you are exactly where you are meant to be. When it does happen, it’s the most wonderful feeling.
Dusk was creeping into the village, the longest day of the year was slowly coming to an end.
Bronagh handed me a margarita. ‘Here’s to us, best friend and lodger,’ she said.
‘Here’s to us.’ We clinked and grinned at each other.
‘I’m so glad you’re staying,’ she said.
‘So am I.’
A man tapped her on the shoulder and she turned round. ‘Paul!’ said Bronagh. ‘What are you doing here?’ He was dressed in navy blue shorts and a light-blue shirt, with the badge of the Irish postal service on the pocket.
‘To say sorry,’ Postman Paul said. ‘To say that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.’
‘That’s not what you said two weeks ago,’ said Bronagh.
‘I love you, and I don’t care if your parents don’t like me…’
‘Paul, I don’t care if they don’t like you either,’ said Bronagh. ‘I don’t care what they think of anything…’
‘And I don’t care if you don’t know the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek.’ He had dropped to one knee. ‘Bronagh Kelly, will you marry me?’
‘Paul, please!’
‘Bronagh, I’m sorry. Will you do me the honour of being my wife?’
‘Paul, don’t! Stand up!’ She tried to pull on his T-shirt, but he remained kneeling.
‘Bronagh… please.’
‘Paul… it’s a no. I suggest you find someone who does like Star Trek.’
‘But I said I didn’t mind.’
‘But I do!’
‘You do?’ He looked delighted.
‘No! I don’t! I definitely don’t. I meant that I did mind, not I do!’ She looked at me, desperately. ‘Paul, come on!’
I spotted Fergal, craning his neck, creeping closer to hear what was going on as Paul got to his feet and hung his head. ‘Okay, I accept your negative response.’
‘Thank you, Paul, for your apology and I am sorry too. And I really hope you find someone really nice, someone you deserve.’
He nodded, dejected, and then held up his hand in a strange shape. ‘That’s Vulcan for goodbye,’ he said, and walked away.
Fergal went straight up to Bronagh. ‘Listen, Bronagh,’ he said. ‘I just want to say before any other man proposes to you that I am a major fan of you, your work and your aura.’
‘Okay…’ Bronagh was starting to smile.
‘And I may as well tell you that I would like to buy you more cakes… for as long as you would allow me to and I would like to entice you to come to London with me… there’s an open house at the Barbican next weekend… would you come with me?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I would! The feeling’s mutual, by the way. That stuff about being a fan of you and your work and your aura. Yours is pretty cool as well.’
They grinned at each other, as though they couldn’t believe they had found each other, and I slipped away, leaving my beautiful and brilliant friend to enjoy her new romance.
Margarita in my hand, I wandered around the crowd, stopping to speak to people, waving to others. Cara and Shirley were sitting on the deckchairs in front of the stage. ‘Hello, you two,’ I said, kneeling down beside them. ‘How are you feeling, Shirley?’
‘Never better,’ she said. ‘Back to normal. Cara’s set me up with two alarms in the kitchen – one at 8 a.m. and the other at 8 p.m. so I remember to take my tablets. I’ll be relying on them when she goes to New York.’
‘You’re going?’ I said to Cara.
&nb
sp; She nodded. ‘It’s only three years and I’ll be home for Christmas and summer. And Nan and I can Zoom every day – we’ve already practised it. And she has every single neighbour in our street looking out for her…’
‘Not that I need it,’ said Shirley.
‘And I’ll be around,’ I said. ‘I’m not going back to London now. I can call in and see you, Shirley, if that’s okay?’ I turned back to Cara. ‘What made you change your mind?’
‘Anna Karenina,’ she said. ‘I thought about what she would do. What is the difference between an interesting life and an uninteresting life? Living the most exciting life you can. Leaving Nan, going somewhere so far away… it’s… terrifying. But…’ She pushed her long hair out of her eyes and blinked at me from behind her glasses. ‘My mum didn’t get a chance to go to New York.’
Shirley was nodding away, agreeing.
‘I know she is looking down on us and she won’t let anything happen to Nan.’
‘She won’t,’ I agreed. ‘And I think you are really brave.’
I spotted Jessica and Ellie-Mae and Frankie eating baked potatoes beside the bonfire. ‘I’ll just go and say hello to Jessica,’ I said. ‘Bye Shirley, have a lovely evening, bye Cara.’
I gave Jessica a big hug. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘We’re having a lovely time. Olivia, this is my mam, Pauline,’ said Jessica. ‘Mam, this is Olivia, you know who…’
Pauline nodded. ‘Thanks for taking care of our Jess,’ she said, in a quiet voice. ‘Wish I’d been there. Of all the weekends I chose to go to Galway! But anyway, things always come to a head, and it’s always for the best. Right, Ellie-Mae and Frankie, who’s for some of those smore things?’
‘Your mum’s asked me to be manager of the shop,’ said Jessica. ‘Starting Monday. Can you believe it?’
‘I can. And you’re going to be brilliant.’
‘I hope so.’ She smiled at me. ‘Me! Manager of a boutique!’
‘And how is everything with Damien? Have you heard anything?’
‘He’s back in custody,’ she said. ‘And the hearing is on Monday morning. And then it’s the first day of the rest of my life. A new start.’
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