Champagne Secrets

by Amanda Brunker

  He was barely out the door when I fled to the shower to cleanse myself of toxins from the previous night. Sure I had lied and told Rory that I was going to have a lazy day, but I didn’t specify with who, or where, so I didn’t feel entirely horrible about myself as I jumped into action. With bloodshot eyes, I grabbed my shopping bags and just several of my red roses from Rory – that was all I could manage to carry out of the suite – and jumped straight into a taxi outside the Shelbourne asking for, ‘Terenure, please.’

  Within twenty minutes I was back outside my family home, with only a text from Parker asking, ‘What time did you go?’ to remind me of what had been. Although I had feared the wrath of an angry mother, I was greeted with a warm smile from my dad and a sloppy wet kiss from Daisy as she announced my arrival with her first sentence, ‘Dit’s Mam-may!’

  According to my dad, my mother had taken up going to Curves every Saturday morning, with her friend Joan from down the road. Much to his delight this allowed him the freedom of watching football on the TV without interruption, and, as he said, ‘Enables your mother to burn off some energy at her spinning class.’ Happy just to be in her grandfather’s arms, Daisy overlooked the fact that she would normally be watching cartoons at this time of the day, back with Maura’s kids in London, and cooed up at him lovingly, knowing that the feeling was reciprocated.

  Begging my dad for five minutes more so I could run upstairs and change into comfies, I quickly raced up to my old bedroom and slipped out of my stinky clothes. While it wasn’t quite the walk of shame that my father had become accustomed to in my late teens, I did feel a tinge of regret, knowing that even a little piece of him might feel disappointed in me for being a floozie. But then, no matter how old I got, there was still something about my old bedroom that made me feel sixteen again, and although I normally hated that, this morning I embraced it, and started singing with delight.

  Urgently feeling the need to speak to my big sister, I picked up my phone and rang Ruth’s mobile. Within two rings she had picked up. ‘Hiya, how’s things?’ I asked, still full of the joys. ‘Fancy a bit of company this morning?’

  The reply was a lacklustre, ‘Sure. But don’t come expecting to be fed. I’ve nothing in, and I’ve too much to do in the house to get out to the shops.’

  I had expected a more welcoming response, but, wanting to get back out of the house as quickly as possible, I grabbed a smart change of clothes for Daisy and popped back downstairs to ask Dad if everything was OK with Ruth. But, as if he was trying to keep some winning Lottery numbers secret, he defensively replied, ‘You’ll have to ask her … It’s not my place to say.’

  That sparked my curiosity. I quickly dialled for a taxi before dressing Daisy and gathering up her day bag of bottles and nappies. What could possibly be wrong with my sister that I hadn’t been told about? I had only gone to London, not outer space. Surely if there was a problem with her health, or one of the kids, I would have been told? Wouldn’t I? Not wanting to arrive empty-handed, I stopped off at the Food Hall on the coast road in Clontarf and bought everything from wine and gourmet sandwiches to magazines for the kids, along with enough chocolate to fatten a piggery.

  Although Daisy and I received a rapturous greeting from Ruth’s gorgeous kids – Finn, Brendan and Sile – stress was spread all across their mother’s face. I knew not to bring up any problems until we had bundled all the children into the front room with their gifts, and Ruth and I had retreated to the safety of the kettle in the kitchen. Deciding to hold any pressing questions until mugs of tea were firmly within our hands and the tin of posh biscuits I’d brought was opened, Ruth spared me from skirting around the issue by blurting out, ‘Joe has lost his job, if you must know. And there are more bills to pay than there is money to go around, if you really must know.’

  Trying not to sound shocked, I told her, ‘Yeah, I must know. I’m your sister, and I love ya. So, when did this happen?’

  ‘Oh, more than a month ago, now. I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want you to worry. You’ve enough on your own plate than to be worrying about my crap.’

  ‘Jeeze, sis, that’s unfair to you and me. That makes me feel horrible that you can’t tell me stuff. I always want to hear your news, good and bad.’

  ‘Yeah, well, Eva, Joe being let go is not exactly something that I like talking about. To anyone. So don’t take it personally.’

  After a moment of uncomfortable silence, I braved asking, ‘Where’s Joe today?’

  ‘He’s now selling himself as an odd-job man. He got fliers made up, so he’s driving around various Northside estates handing them out.’

  ‘Well, that’s great that he’s keeping busy. Isn’t it?’

  ‘Is it, Eva? He’s going door to door begging for work, and I’m now cleaning toilets for a few quid.’

  ‘Oh, where are you doing that?’

  ‘The apartments up the road.’

  ‘Listen, as they say, cash is king.’

  ‘Don’t patronize me, Eva. I’m in my forties, and I’m scrubbing skidmarks off the toilet bowls of twenty-somethings’ ensuites. It makes me feel like a failure. But then I think of the bills and the new trainers that I need to buy the kids, and I feel like flushing my head down the toilet. So do you feel proud of your big sister now? Do ya?’

  Placing my mug of tea on the counter, I threw my arms around Ruth’s shoulders and gave her a tight squeeze. I hadn’t meant to cry, but as I cradled her depressed and weak body my emotions got the better of me, and the tears flowed out of my eyes as I felt her pain and disappointment. ‘I’m always p-p-proud of you,’ I stuttered.

  Of course, once Ruth realized that I was crumbling, she immediately shrugged me off, complaining, ‘Stop that. You’ll only start me off again, and I’ve done too much crying about this already.’

  Restoring my composure, I inhaled all my tears away and sat down at the kitchen table with my tea. Although I offered up several ways for Ruth and Joe to get back on track, I could see her eyes glaze over and sense her mind praying that I would shut up. So I did. And instead, for once, waited for her to take the lead.

  Eventually, after she had fired crisps, cartons of juice and some abuse at the kids, Ruth returned to sit next to me in the kitchen and offered up an apology. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m just finding all this hard to deal with at the moment. I know there are a lot of other people in a similar boat to us right now, and the world is in a recession, but I didn’t think it would happen to us, you know what I mean?’

  ‘I understand. Hey, small mercies, but it’s kinda fashionable to be broke these days.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I’m just saying, it’s trendy to be penniless. Even the rich are poor these days. If ever there was an acceptable time to go bankrupt, it’s now.’

  Unimpressed with my brand of humour, Ruth looked me square in the eyes and asked, ‘Are you finished mocking me yet? If I wanted someone to laugh at me I’d just walk down to the bank and ask for another extension on the mortgage.’

  ‘Why, will they not give you one? Surely you can get that? I thought it was only people who didn’t speak to their bank managers and just let their arrears build up that got into trouble?’

  ‘Eva, I honestly haven’t got the energy to go through everything with you. Nor should I have to. But let’s just say, we had used up all our credits with the bank already. And that was before Joe lost his job.’

  ‘Ruth?’

  ‘Don’t even go there,’ she snapped, almost gnashing her teeth. ‘OK?’

  Not wanting to upset her with the kids only next door, I let it be, for now anyway, and agreed to drop the conversation.

  ‘If you’ve finished with your misguided black humour …’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘… then tell me all about your adventures in London, little sis. And give me all the updates on this new bloke, Rory. My brain needs a holiday. Cause it’s next stop heroin.’

  By 3 p.m. it was time to head back to Ter
enure to avoid the peak traffic, but I was happy to do so, knowing that Ruth’s mind had been well and truly distracted with all my tales of espionage and naughty sexual encounters. Mine had, too. Telling her about Bradley and Sir Charlie’s had made that side of my life seem less scary, somehow.

  Typically, she did what any big sister would do and told me to come clean with Rory, ‘Immediately!’

  To which I agreed absolutely, and fobbed her off by promising, ‘As soon as I get back to London. You have my word.’

  As I waved goodbye in the taxi, I felt a sadness in my heart over two things. One, that my word now meant nothing at all. And secondly, that I hadn’t offered my sister any money. Although I had thought about it, I knew that she would have taken such an offer as an insult, and that stuffing money into her pocket would only have made her feel more of a charity case than before. Having had Ruth bail me out on many an occasion while growing up, I knew that this was my time to return the favour. I just needed to find the right way of going about it.

  Of course, after hours of excitement with her cousins, Daisy slept the entire journey across the city, which gave me plenty of peace to think. During this time I had decided to enroll Ruth’s kids with a model slash talent agency in town and had rung Parker to ask if he could employ Ruth as an assistant anything on his current TV production. Despite saying that he didn’t have much work to speak of, he dismissed out of hand the idea of me paying him to pay her, and texted back, ‘Don’t be stupid. I’ll come up with something by Monday or Tuesday. Leave it with me xx.’

  While I felt a small sense of achievement that I had at least done something to solve one problem, the guilt over my lies to Rory soon returned. I was still waiting to hear all his thoughts about the marriage to Michael that I’d kept secret. Although he had brushed it aside last night to keep the peace among the group, his opinions were sure to pop up in conversation once we had some time to ourselves. And, of course, the fact that I still hadn’t managed to reveal my true identity as Eva, or mention Daisy or my job, remained a major worry.

  Tackle one problem at a time, I thought, as I paid the taxi-man and carried my gorgeous but sleep-heavy lump of a daughter up the pathway. This evening I would have to deal with the disgruntled and unwilling babysitter that was my gym-bunny mother. Tomorrow? Well, I would deal with that when it came.

  Dinner with my mam and dad was long and painful. By now my hangover-headache had set in, and with perfect timing Mam had begun to question everything! ‘What were Daisy’s tests for?’

  ‘Why do you have to live in London full-time?’

  ‘Who takes care of Daisy’s special needs now?’

  ‘Where do you think you get off just abandoning your poor unfortunate child with us on a whim?’

  Her questions went on and on, and just as I was about to reach my limit and blow a fuse my father, the peace-maker, stepped up. He announced he had a cheeky bottle of Bailey’s, my mam’s favourite, in the front room, and asked, ‘Which of my special girls would like a double on ice?’

  Grateful for the interruption, I offered to get the ice from the freezer, which meant both of us left my mother alone at the table with the dirty plates and her frustration at not being in control. Several extremely generous Bailey’s later, my mother was happily talking about her home furnishings again, while Dad and me battled it out to be the golfing champion on the Wii.

  It was only when I was retiring to bed that I remembered I had left my mobile in my jacket upstairs. It being a Saturday night, I hadn’t expected anyone to be in contact, but I was proved wrong when I discovered I had twenty-two missed calls and seven voice messages waiting for me. Although both Parker and Rory had tried to get in touch, the rest were from the not-so-lovely Craig from Sir Charlie’s, saying that we needed to talk urgently. I was petrified at the thought of what it might be about, so I automatically rang Bradley to ask his advice on the matter.

  Considering it was 11.30 p.m., I hadn’t held out much hope of him answering, but amazingly, after a couple of rings, he did. ‘Hello there, stranger,’ said Bradley sarcastically, sounding a teeny bit merry. ‘Looking for something, I presume, or is this just a social call?’

  ‘I’m in Ireland, Bradley, but I’ve just had a load of missed calls from Craig in Sir Charlie’s. Why would he be ringing me? I told them I wasn’t free to work there any more. Do you think they know something? Do you?’

  ‘I’m not exactly sure what you mean by “know something”. I’m sure they know plenty, Eva. But the question you should be asking is: what do they know about you and your time spent with them at the club?’

  Feeling my heart pounding, but aware of my parents in the room below, I just managed to stop myself from yelling. ‘Don’t be an arsehole, Bradley. Do they know about me? You have to fucking tell me!’

  Taking his time to answer, Bradley eventually revealed, ‘They might. Letting someone find a camera in your hair probably wasn’t the brightest thing to do, but—’

  Feeling like I was losing my mind, I barked, ‘But what? But posting you the footage was, you mean …’

  ‘But nothing, Eva. My intelligence is patchy. I only hear bits and pieces. It’s probably best if you stay in Ireland for a bit, though. Just as a precaution.’

  ‘Precaution against what, exactly?’

  ‘Surely you don’t need it spelt out for you, do you?’

  ‘Say it, Bradley. I want to hear YOU say it.’

  ‘OK. Your safety could be at risk, Eva. For now, I recommend you keep your head down and stay away from London nightlife. I can’t imagine that sounded any easier coming out of my mouth, but you wanted the truth, and now you have it.’

  Complaining that he was in a bad reception area, and that he really needed to get back to some birthday celebrations, Bradley hurried me off the phone and coldly finished by saying, ‘I’ll speak to you Monday. Goodbye.’

  Feeling like I was standing at the mouth of a volcano, trying to balance and not to fall in, I sat wavering on the edge of my bed as a million thoughts raced through my head. Turning into a version of my mother, I began to question everything. Like: why the hell hadn’t Bradley warned me? Maybe he had been setting me up all along? Or maybe he was going to throw me to the lions to save his own skin? That night I ignored Rory’s ‘Goodnight Irish rose’ text and cried myself to sleep, with the mother of all headaches banging across my temples.

  The following morning I walked to church with my mam and dad for the first time in decades – now a mother myself, yet still a sinner. While I wasn’t sure whether or not I was still a believer, I needed to walk into a house of God and seek guidance. I wasn’t sure where to turn to next, so I reckoned church was as good a place as any. As I sat surrounded by hundreds of little old spinster women, laden down with rosary beads and Catholic guilt, I pondered what had brought them to this place: why they were lonely, and why they were seeking help from a higher being. Had they also lied to good men and chased fame and fortune in a dangerous and unforgiving city? Was this to be my fate in another thirty or forty years’ time? As I stared into the eyes of a nearby statue of the Virgin Mary, I found neither solace nor redemption, but instead saw a mirror version of myself on the wall. After all, she looked as sad as I felt. And she bore a child whose destiny she was unsure of. Never before had I compared myself to a biblical figure. OK, maybe Judas? But Mary … never.

  Temporarily drifting off into a sad place, I was thankfully snapped back to reality by the grace of my daughter. Content in her own little world, she was kicking her short chubby legs with excitement as she repeatedly kissed her soft cuddly teddy and chuckled to herself. She was the picture of innocence. I couldn’t help but lean forward to her buggy and give her another kiss myself, which of course made her yelp, and my mother complain for us both to be quiet.

  As I turned back to look at my mother, all I could see was the anger in her face and the creases that mapped out years of disappointment. Although I never intentionally wanted to hurt her, I couldn’t bear being aro
und her another minute, so, saying, ‘Shhh yourself!’ I gathered up my bits, turned Daisy’s buggy around, and made to leave.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ whispered my mother sharply.

  A feeling of giddiness had returned, and I felt the urge to shout, ‘HELL!’, but chose, instead, to mutter respectfully, ‘I’m not sure yet. But outta here.’ And I continued towards the door without any further explanation.

  Despite feeling a tad lost, as I had no game plan about where to go, or how to get there, I did enjoy being mistress of my own destiny. And, of course, I knew that I had immediately to sort things out with Rory if I was to stand any chance of sharing a future with him. So I got on the phone to Ruth and asked, ‘Is there any chance you could take Daisy for the night? I have a bit of business to take care of overseas.’

  ‘My rates are cheap,’ came her reply.

  ‘You pay for what you get, I reckon. Sounds like a deal.’

  By 9 p.m., after a hastily booked flight, I was back in London and in the arms of my lover. Cuddling on his couch with a glass of champagne in my hand to loosen my tongue, I didn’t want to spoil the moment with the horror story that was my real life, but I knew that I had to go for it.

  ‘Listen, Rory, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry for what?’

  ‘A lot of things, unfortunately.’

  ‘Oh gosh, this doesn’t sound good. Talk to me so …’

  ‘Well, there’s actually two things – no, three things, as well as my marriage – that I want to talk to you about, and haven’t told you about before.’