by Angel Devlin
Cillian: Doing the dishes? You mean throwing takeout cartons in the bin? Plus, ooops on the whiskey, hic!
Anna: How’s your ma taking it now?
Cillian: She’s stopped crying that her baby has left. All that fuss after she kept going on about me leaving. Now she’s decorating the spare room and making it an ‘artist’s studio’. My da winked at me and thanked me for moving out. He’s looking forward to some peace and quiet on the times their grandbabies aren’t around. No peace and quiet when that lot descends.
So anyway bossy boots. I moved out. My turn to set you a challenge. You’ve to go do something social one night a week other than go down the pub for work. You need to start embracing life again. So knitting class, yoga. What’s it to be?
Anna: Hmmm, I’ll have a look around and a think. You mean I actually have to put my book down and leave the house? sigh
June 2018
Anna: My photography teacher says I have a natural talent. I reckon I can probably take better photos than you.
Cillian: You know when I suggested a class, I didn’t mean steal my hobby and make me look shite at it.
Anna: shrugs
Cillian: Cheeky mare. Show us some of these photos then.
Cillian: Bloody hell. They really are good, Anna. Have you thought of studying this professionally?
Anna: Well, I’ve seen your photos and they’re just as good so have YOU thought of studying it professionally?
Cillian: Maybe, sometimes. Bit pie in the sky though isn’t it? I can hear my da in my ear telling me to get a proper job.
Anna: And by that did he mean work as a tour guide?
Cillian: Well…
Anna: I challenge you to look into studying photography as a potential career. I’m not just yet because I’m enjoying my starter course and that’s just looking slightly too far ahead. However, I will do in the future if I continue to enjoy it. Deal?
Cillian: Deal.
Anna: You alive? Not heard from you in a couple of days?
Cillian: Sorry, had a sickness bug. Did find a course though. Starts in September and I could work my tour guiding around it.
Anna: That’s brilliant. Tell me more.
Cillian: barf emoticon
Anna: Oh okay, I’ll message you tomorrow to see if you’re feeling better.
Cillian: :D
July 2018
Cillian: So what shall I challenge you to do this month?
Anna: Get through what should have been my wedding day?
Cillian: Oh shite. Is that today?
Anna: No. It’s in two weeks. Saturday 14 July. I’m staring at the calendar where I’d forgotten I’d put a heart around the date. Everyone in the pub will be staring at me. My friends will be suffocating. I’m dreading it, Cillian. Tell me what to do. Set me a challenge.
Cillian: Okay, here it is. Come back to Dublin. You can stay in my spare room. Come and let me show you Dublin as it should be seen and get away from that place until it’s all over. Stop a week. You have annual leave, don’t you?
Anna: Shocked face emoticon I can’t do that, that’s insane.
Cillian: Why is it? Is it because I’m male? If a female friend asked you to get away from it, you’d do it, wouldn’t you? Well, I’m a friend. Book into a hotel if you feel better. Redo Dublin and discover its magic. You were shortchanged last time.
What have you got to lose? This is my challenge; push yourself - and bring your camera.
She didn’t reply and for the next thirty minutes as I sat there waiting for a response I thought I’d gone too far. I thought I’d lost her and the next thing would be an unfriending. A cutting off of contact. But then the message appeared.
Anna: Challenge accepted. Dan says I can have leave. Does Thursday 12 July sound okay for me arriving and thanks for the offer of a room, but I’m going to book a hotel. You, however, can be my own personal tour guide.
Cillian: That sounds grand and it will be my pleasure.
My heart thudded in my chest. She was coming back to Dublin. The best kisser I’d ever met, the girl of my dreams, was on her way back to Dublin in ten days time.
She might come back to my flat. I looked around at the empty takeaway cartons, crushed cans of beer, and general manky surroundings. God. I would have to up my game.
I rang my ma.
“Ma, it’s me. Could you teach me how to cook something?”
“Pardon?”
“Could you teach me how to cook? I can do a fry up, but can you teach me how to do something traditional like your stew, and colcannon? Sometime this week.”
“Stall the ball there, son.”
I waited.
“Darragh?” She shouted into the background.
“Yeah?”
“Phone the hospital, I’m having a hallucination. I heard your son say he wants to learn how to cook.”
“What? Pass me the phone.”
I sighed. “Hi, Da.”
“Don’t cook for her, son. Take her out to dinner. Less mess for you to clean up and less interference from your ma. Ow. God, she’s a punch on her still.”
“It’s me, your ma. You come over tomorrow and I’ll teach you some basics. Yes, take her for dinner, but if she comes back, she’ll want something to eat. Always made me hungry, did lovemaking.”
“Oh my God, Ma. I’m hanging up right now.” I said.
Then when I hung up, I smiled, wondering if Miss Anna Hepplestone would indeed end up in my bed. I’d imagined her there often enough.
The Irish Raver
Anna
I sat in Pizza Express and munched on a dough ball as I awaited my main course.
Jenny was sitting opposite me still wearing an expression like I’d told her I was having surgery to become a man.
“You’ve been messaging with him all these months and you didn’t think to share that fact with your best mate?”
I shrugged. “I thought about it a few times, but I didn’t know if you’d be all, ‘Oh that’s not a good idea, Anna. What if he’s a serial killer, and he hunts you down?’.”
“Why on earth would I have said that? Actually, what I would have said was tell me every single detail of what you’ve been chatting about with this guy, and also what’s the back story? How did you meet? How did he get your details?”
“Okay.” I had a quick drink and then put my glass down. “So no judging me, but when I was drunk, and we were in that club in Dublin, I danced with this guy. I remember him being sexy as fuck but thought it was beer goggles, and, well, I may have snogged him.”
“You did, or didn’t? Do you not remember?”
I sighed. “No, I did. I snogged him and my drunken mind thought it was the most fabulous kiss ever.”
“And then what?”
“And then I wanted to be sick and ran off. That’s when you found me in the toilets. Then we went back to the hotel. Only he was the tour guide that next day, you know where you dragged me for the sing-song? He saw me and got my details from Lesley. Sent me a message. When I was feeling bored one night, I sent one back, and that was it. We’ve been in touch ever since.”
“You are in so much trouble for keeping this from me. I wonder if he was really a good kisser, or if it was the beer? Oooh you’ll be able to find out.”
I shook my head. “No, I won’t. I’m just going to sightsee and meet my friend.”
“Are you insane?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Now I expected you to say that about my getting on a plane and going to Dublin on my own, not about the fact I refuse to lock lips with a man I met one night when drunk.”
“Well there’s that too, but it sounds so romantic. Hey, what about if me and Kian came along? We could hang around in the background or something?”
“Absolutely not. I’m going alone. But I’ll keep checking in with you, so you know he’s not murdered me. To be honest, I’m going to spend some time on my own, not just be with Cillian all week. I’m an independent woman now. It’s time to embrace it.”
“Well, you could embrace the one night stand. Have a fuck of the Irish.” She fell about laughing at her own joke.
“I’m going to behave myself.”
“For a whole week?”
I nodded. “For the entire week.”
“Even if without beer goggles he’s hot as hell?”
“He is. I’ve seen his Facebook photos remember?”
“Show me.” She demanded.
I was getting his profile on screen when my pizza arrived.
“Funghi?” The waitress asked.
“That’s hers.” Jenny said. “Might not be the only fun guy she’s eating too.”
The waitress laughed as I turned bright red. “You did not just say that.”
“I did.” She took the phone from me and clicked through his photos. “If you don’t fuck this guy, then you’re even more insane. If he is indeed a serial killer, at least you’ll die with a huge smile on your face.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Anna?”
“Mmmm hmmm.” I mumbled while chewing my food.
“Just don’t discount it altogether. If you get along and there’s a spark, go for it. Promise me.”
“I promise. But my focus is on enjoying Dublin. I’ve had a romance ruin the place for me once. I don’t want it happening again.”
“Fair enough.” She said, handing me my phone back. “You’re gonna make sure you shaved everywhere and pack a razor though, yeah? Or go and get a wax?”
“Is sex all you think about?”
“Well, yeah. Better than thinking about the fact the bins need emptying.”
“Poor Kian. He must be knackered.”
“He was pleased as punch I was coming out tonight to give him a night off.”
We giggled.
Jenny’s face turned serious, and she lowered her voice. “So, how are you about the whole 14 July thing?”
“Numb.” I replied honestly. “I feel like it all happened to someone else. Now I can’t believe what I ever saw in him. I fell out of love so fast that I’m questioning if I was ever in love. I think I was in-settling.”
Jenny picked up her glass and took a sip. “Chris was always a charmer and I think when you first met him, he was an okay guy. At least he seemed to be, and that’s how Kian knew him, or we’d have never set you two up. But he got cocky as he got older. Neither of us expected him to cheat on you though.”
“Oh, I’ve heard stories since, people at the Nag’s feel they need to share the rumours with me now. I don’t think Tania’s been the only one. I went for a sexual screening you know? How fucking humiliating, having to say my boyfriend had been cheating and could they check he’d not left me with a final gift before departure. Luckily, we’d always used condoms and everything came back okay. But that’s not right, is it? To do that to someone. I’m glad he’s gone. I don’t feel sadness that I’m not marrying him, but I get upset thinking it should have been my wedding day. Does that make any sense?”
Jenny placed a hand over mine. “Yeah, I get it.”
“It’s the dream of it all. The white dress, the declarations of love, the promise of the future. But I think that’s all it was anyway. The promise of it, the dream. My reality would have been living with a selfish, cheating scumbag who didn’t want kids.”
“You really think he didn’t want any?”
“Yep. I thought he’d change his mind once we were married, but I bet he wouldn’t have. Chris wants the world to revolve around him, he doesn’t want to share the stage.”
“I wonder if Tania knows that.”
I threw my napkin down on the table. “Tania deserves whatever she gets. I hope as she’s walking down that aisle, she realises that she’s in someone else’s shoes. That she hasn’t even got the wedding of her dreams, she’s got another woman’s. Though being honest, it wasn’t the wedding of my dreams either because I had to suit what my family wanted seeing as they were paying for a chunk of it, forced to invite relatives I hadn’t seen since I was six. I’d much rather have eloped.”
“Well, you make sure that on Saturday 14 July at 2pm, you’re doing something spectacular instead, or even better, someone.” She winked.
As the days passed I became more nervous. We still messaged each other and Cillian was sending me ideas of places we could visit, but it was becoming so real. Now we were talking about where he’d meet me and what time.
This. Was. Really. Happening.
I did book myself for an all over wax, a haircut and my roots touching up, and a mani-pedi. Just for myself you understand. To increase my self confidence. But then I added a box of condoms to my luggage and admitted to myself that I was hoping, that maybe, things would go really well and I might just get a bit of action in the sack before I came home. But I wasn’t to let anything like that happen at the beginning. No way. Friends only and sightseeing.
I threw a few lacy bras and matching panties into my case.
A sexy little black dress.
My God if I got searched at the airport they would think I was a right little raver.
The night before I was due to travel we’d been messaging when it came up that Cillian was video calling me. I hit answer and his image popped up on screen. Fuck he was still hot, and I had no beer goggles this time.
“Oh feck. Sorry, I hit t’wrong button. Now ya having to see me ugly face. Should get a warning before t’at happens.”
I continued to stare.
“Anna?”
“Oh sorry. Oh it’s fine. At least tomorrow I won’t vomit at the sight of you, I’ll be prepared.”
“Yeah, not like last time. Doesn’t do a lot to a man’s ego you know, when a lass runs off to be sick.”
“You know full well that was all the alcohol I’d consumed and not you.”
He laughed. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Anna Hepplestone.”
“See you tomorrow, Mr Cillian McCarthy.”
It took me a moment longer than it needed to, to end the video call.
My God, he was gorgeous. Stare-with-my-tongue-hung-out gorgeous. How was I going to act normal around him?
The morning of travel beckoned. I got up feeling like I would hurl and after searching around the kitchen cupboards, I found a bottle of unopened whiskey, something I loved and had been introduced to by my dad. I drank some straight from the bottle, and after almost burning out my oesophagus, I poured some into a glass and added the tiniest splash of water to it, then took another mouthful. I felt much better thirty minutes later when that and a second glass had gone. It was only 9:30 am though. Once more I repacked my case and went through my mental list of what I did/used every day to make sure I had everything.
My phoned beeped and I went on to see a text from Jenny.
Jenny: Remember! The Fuck of the Irish.
I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me and I couldn’t help but smile. Hers wasn’t the only message. I’d gotten one from Lesley last night wishing me safe travels and advising me to try as many bars as possible.
I was getting the train straight to Manchester airport and then the 2:00pm flight out of there, arriving in Dublin just after 3:00pm. I didn’t want Cillian meeting me there, so I’d put him off. I’d booked The Fleet Hotel, as Temple Bar looked a good place to reside for the week, with lots of restaurants and shops nearby. When I arrived, I just wanted to get settled in and freshen up. No way was he seeing me straight off a flight. We’d arranged to meet in the Hard Rock Cafe - which was apparently a few doors down from my hotel - at 6:30 pm, to get a bite to eat. After that he said he’d let me get an early night. We were going to fit in sightseeing around his tour guide shifts. He’d said I could either accompany him on the tours or go ‘girly shopping’ as he called it, because ‘no way was he sitting in shops while I tried on fourteen pairs of identical looking jeans’. I’d berated him for his stereotypical nonsense and then he’d told me that his ma used to drag him round while she took his sisters shopping. Then I felt sorry as I im
agined this small boy, sat bored in a shop somewhere.
A taxi beeped outside, ready to take me to the train station and then that was it. I locked the door behind me and wheeled my case down to the taxi.
I was on my way.
The flight was straightforward, and I arrived in Dublin to a pleasant day with a hint of sunshine. I decided to brave the bus as I knew it stopped near my hotel. My room was beautiful. Pale walls, soft bedding and a soft brown carpet. Almost directly opposite was a Tesco Metro so I knew I had a place nearby for snacks and magazines. Cillian had given me his mobile number and I’d had to text him on each leg of my journey. Him, and Jenny, Lesley, and my mum, who was convinced she was getting me back in pieces in separate bin liners.
I sent everyone a text to say I’d arrived safely, saying to everyone but Cillian that I’d text again later. Then swallowing down the lump in my throat, I went in the shower again, before getting my make-up on. I dressed in a pair of blue skinny jeans; and a baggy, emerald-green tee that fell off one shoulder revealing a hint of black bra strap. After pulling my hair back in a pony tail and slipping on some wedge sandals that was it. A final squirt of my travel-sized Si perfume and off out the door I went.
“Oh my God. You made me jump a foot.” I squealed, as Cillian almost walked into me, a bunch of flowers in his hand.
“I was just about to knock. Only I was early, so I thought I’d escort you to the restaurant.”
Recovering but nervous, I looked up at him, taking in that scruff on his chin and those beautiful hazel eyes. His facial expression turned from one of apprehension to one of lust. I recognised it because I was feeling it myself.
“Feck it.” He said, and he leaned into me, placing a hand on the back of my head. His mouth came down to mine, brushing against my lips softly and then as my own opened eagerly it changed to a lip crushing kiss that almost had my knees bowing.
I’d underestimated his kiss. He was the best kisser I reckoned in the whole universe. Beer goggles had dumbed it down.
He broke off. “Dinner then?” He smiled.
I looked back at my room. “Do you fancy a coffee first?” I winked.
You brazen hussy. My brain yelled. What about waiting? What about sightseeing?
My libido shouted louder.