Spin the Bottle

by Monica McInerney

  ‘I wasn’t thinking properly. I mean, I was thinking, but I was thinking in a different way. I was thinking on practical levels, and sensible levels and all of those non-feeling levels. And I’ve realised that was wrong. Because the way I think about you is completely on a feeling level. I feel good when I’m with you. I feel happy when you ring me. I realised I feel wonderful when I kiss you, when I sleep with you, when we,’ she kept looking at the camera, ‘you know how I feel when we’re in bed together.

  ‘Ad, I made a big mistake. And now I have a terrible feeling I have left this too late. That it’s taken me too long to tell you this. When I got the videos you made with Hugh, I was really surprised, I think. That even though I had hurt you, you were still prepared to go to those lengths for me. That maybe you still cared for me. And that’s when I should have really thought things through. But I was too stubborn. And now I’ve heard from Hugh that you are seeing Kim.’ Her speed of voice quickened. ‘And that’s entirely up to you. You’ve every right to see Kim – you’ve every right to see whoever you want. I dumped you, as Hugh so bluntly put it once. And it’s my own fault if I have realised only now what a stupid thing that was to do.’

  She tried to find some more polite words about Adam seeing Kim, but suddenly there weren’t any in her brain. So she told the absolute truth. ‘To be completely honest, Ad, the thought of you and Kim together makes me feel sick. The thought of you with anyone else makes me feel sick. The thought of me with anyone else but you doesn’t feel right, either.’ She paused. ‘There’s a man here in Ireland. I used to go to school with him, and I started imagining there was something happening between me and him, hoping there would be, because that way I wouldn’t have to face up to being wrong about you. But I was wrong about him too. I was just using him to try and block out how I felt about you.

  ‘I know I’ve been unfair to you. I should have realised long ago all the things that are so good about you, should have dared to ask for more time from you, given you more of my time, treated you properly. I did take you for granted. I wish we could start again. My problem was I thought real love had to be filled with drama and spectacle, loud cymbals. But I’ve realised now that it can speak in soft voices, sneak up behind you, play gently as a soundtrack, not overwhelm everything and everybody.’

  She gazed right into the camera lens, focused completely on the idea of Adam now, feeling as though she was talking directly to him. ‘Why has it taken me this long to realise that, Ad? Is it because I was scared? In case it all went wrong? I used to spend all my days at work planning in case something went wrong, putting in place hundreds of contingency plans, safety net after safety net. And I couldn’t do that in real life, could I? If I’d told you I was in love with you too, if I’d relaxed and let it happen and then it had all gone wrong between us, then what? I’d have fallen in a heap and been hurt. And I think I didn’t want to feel that. I hate feeling vulnerable or scared or unhappy and I’ve been feeling that way enough since Dad’s accident as it is. But I didn’t recognise that at the time and it wasn’t fair on you. I should have known I could trust you.

  ‘Ad, I don’t know if I have any right to ask this any more, but I just want you and I to be together again when I come back in February, with all the letters and emails and phone calls we can manage before I do. Which was just what you suggested that morning, wasn’t it? What you expected we would do, to keep our relationship going while I was away. Except I was too busy organising everybody to see that there might be another way than mine.’

  She rubbed her eyes. The little red ‘record’ light on the video was still blinking at her. She looked into the lens for a moment or two. ‘I feel like this is one of those dating agency videos, that I’m sending it out into the wide world, hoping someone will happen to see it and think about taking me on. But it’s only you I want to see it, because it’s only you I want to be with. And I hope it’s not too late and I hope that you will forgive me for hurting you and that you will give me a second chance.’ She rubbed the bracelet on her wrist, then slipped it off, held it up to the camera. ‘I’ve kept wearing this, every day. So I must have known deep down what I wanted. It just took my brain a long time to catch up with my heart. So what I want to say, Adam Baxter, is this, in a nutshell. I, Lainey Byrne, am in love with you and I would love to spend the rest of my life with you. And I hope you still feel the same way.’ She paused. ‘But I know this can’t be about what I want. Or what I think. It has to be what you really want. So it’s over to you now, to tell me how you feel. If you want to, that is.’

  She had a vivid mental image in her mind of his lean, clever face, those dark-brown eyes, the warmth and humour, and she longed with all of herself that it wasn’t too late. She looked in the camera, knowing there should be a big finish, a summary even. But she had run out of words. So she sat there for a moment longer and then she got up and switched off the camera.

  One hour later, she walked out of the Dunshaughlin post office. The video was on its way, sent express. It would be in Melbourne within four days. She had checked it once, just to see it had worked, but not letting herself listen too closely to what she was saying, in case Miss Bossy Byrne took over and decided it could be done again, more professionally, more slickly. It was done. She had said what she meant. And now it was up to him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  NOTHING. A WEEK SINCE she’d sent the video and nothing. She was up the walls. She felt like she had travelled every mile with the parcel, picturing where it was since she had posted it. She’d imagined it lying in a bag with the other post. Being loaded into a van, onto a plane, lying in the cargo hold, arriving in Australia, being sorted in Melbourne, into another bag, being carried by the postman, dropped into Adam’s letterbox. Maybe it hadn’t fitted. That was it, of course. It hadn’t fitted, so the postman had to leave a card asking Adam to collect it instead. And Adam hadn’t time to collect it. So he hadn’t seen the video yet. Which explained the lack of response. Or did it? She couldn’t bear it. She had to ring him.

  Heart in her mouth, she worked out the time difference and dialled his home number. It rang, her pulse rate increasing with each ring. Then a click. She thought at first it was the receiver being picked up, then realised it was his answering machine. ‘This is Adam Baxter. Please leave a message after the tone.’ She hung up, paced the room for a moment, then dialled another number in Melbourne.

  ‘Hi, Hugh.’

  ‘Hi, Lainey.’

  A long pause.

  ‘So how are things?’

  ‘Great. What about you?’

  ‘Good, thanks. How’s Dad?’

  ‘He’s pretty good actually.’

  ‘Ma?’

  ‘She’s good too.’

  Another pause.

  ‘Declan and Brendan are good too,’ Hugh said.

  ‘Oh. Good.’

  ‘You want me to run next door and see how the neighbours are?’

  He’d seen right through her, she knew it. Lainey blurted out what was on her mind. ‘Hughie, please tell me the truth about something. You didn’t make that up about seeing Adam and Kim together, did you?’

  A pause. ‘No, Lainey, I didn’t. I did see them.’

  That hope evaporated. She bit her lip. ‘Well, I’d better go, then. I’ve got to get organised for the weekend.’

  ‘Get organised? What for? All those theme weekends are over for the moment, aren’t they? You’re not going away somewhere, are you?’

  His words got her back up. ‘No, Hugh. I’m not allowed to go away anywhere, remember? I’ve got a group of musicians here on Saturday night, as it happens. One of the guest speakers is coming back with a group of his friends.’

  ‘Oh, good. That’ll be fun.’

  ‘Sure will,’ she said, trying to put some enthusiasm into her voice. ‘Well, I’d better go. See you.’

  ‘See you, Lainey. And have a great weekend.’

  She couldn’t stop herself. She rang the number of the restaurant. Even i
f he didn’t want to know her any more, she had to hear it from him, have it confirmed, not just communicated by a lack of reply, a silence like this.

  ‘Baxter’s, David speaking.’

  ‘Dave, it’s Lainey calling from Ireland.’

  ‘Lainey, hi! Long time no hear. How’s it going over there?’

  ‘Good, good. How are things with you?’

  ‘Flat out. You can probably hear it, can you?’

  She could. There was a lot of noise in the background, conversation, music, even though it was early evening. ‘Sorry, I was hoping I’d get you at a quiet time.’

  ‘We don’t seem to have many quiet times just now. We’re doing two or more sittings a night at the moment.’

  ‘I won’t keep you, then. Um, I just wondered, could I have a word with Adam?’

  ‘Of course you can. Hold on, Lainey. I’ll go and get him.’

  Her heart started thumping. She pressed the receiver close against her ear.

  ‘Lainey?’

  ‘Adam.’ Her voice was as high as a bat squeak.

  ‘No, sorry. Dave again. He’s got a bit of a kitchen emergency happening. Can I give him a message?’

  ‘Um, no. No message. Could you just tell him I called?’

  ‘No worries, Lainey. He’s got your number, I suppose.’

  No, he probably didn’t, she realised. She quickly called it out.

  Dave read it back. ‘I’ll pass it on. Better run, Lainey. See you. Have a Guinness for me, won’t you?’

  ‘Sure will, Dave.’ She hung up, her hands shaking.

  The phone didn’t ring again that day. Or that night. By Friday morning she couldn’t bear the waiting any more. She’d gone over all the possible scenarios in her head. Perhaps Dave had got so busy he had forgotten to give Adam the message that she’d rung. Perhaps something had happened, an accident or something, and it had slipped his mind. Or perhaps Dave had given Adam the message and he had chosen to ignore it…

  She swallowed her pride once more and rang the number again.

  ‘Baxter’s, good evening.’

  She realised her hands were shaking. ‘Dave, hi, it’s Lainey again.’

  ‘Lainey, hi.’

  She knew immediately he hadn’t forgotten to pass on the message. She could hear it in his tone of voice, instantly wary. ‘I won’t keep you, I was just wondering… um, I hadn’t heard back and just wondered if you had a chance to give Adam my message.’

  ‘I did, Lainey, yes. I told him you rang. And I did give him your number.’

  He was feeling as uncomfortable as she was, she knew it. This was excruciating. Dave was clearly trying to cover for Adam. Because Adam clearly didn’t want to talk to her. ‘Thanks, Dave. And there’s no need to tell him I rang again.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘I’m sure.’ She was. Whether the video had arrived or not, it seemed Adam didn’t want to talk to her.

  Mrs Hartigan rang that afternoon, full of apologies. ‘Lainey, I’m so sorry. I double booked myself when I said I could help you out on Saturday night. I forgot Sabine’s over from Munich and Rohan’s taking us all out for a surprise birthday dinner for her.’

  Damn, damn, damn. ‘It doesn’t matter at all, Mrs Hartigan. Have a great time,’ Lainey assured her.

  She rang Eva straight away. ‘Oh, Lainey, I’m sorry. I can’t. I’ve got a gig this weekend. And Joe’s finishing a project for work, otherwise he could help.’

  She was on her own.

  The next morning she turned on her computer and picked up her emails. There was just one new message.

  Sender: Adam Baxter Subject: [no subject]

  She clicked on it, her heart racing.

  Lainey, I’m sorry I couldn’t talk when you rang. I need to think about the things you’ve said. I’ll be in touch again soon, I promise.

  Adam

  She read it again. Then again. And again, even more slowly. It was perfectly reasonable. Polite. To the point. She couldn’t fault him on that. But was that it?

  During the day she read it another ten times, but she still couldn’t wring any extra meaning out of his words.

  By eight o’clock Saturday night Lainey was in a mild state of panic. She was wearing one of her favourite outfits, an elegant skirt and top cut so well and made from such a beautiful deep-red material that it had cheered her up just to put it on. She’d done her hair, applied a little more make-up than normal, a touch of blush, lipstick, telling herself that if she looked in control perhaps they would all think she was in control.

  ‘Forget the food, Lainey. We’ll be happy just to look at you all night,’ Barry had said admiringly as she greeted them that afternoon. The group was in such high spirits she suspected she could have served toasted sandwiches and cans of beer and they would have been happy. There were six of them so far, though Barry said he was half expecting a couple of late arrivals. ‘You don’t mind, Lainey, do you? They said they’d try and get down if they could, but they’re not the most reliable of fellows, I have to say. Don’t hold dinner for them, though. If they’re late, they’ll be happy to eat separately from us.’

  No problem at all, Lainey had said with a smile, cursing them inside. She still wasn’t confident with her quantities and serving times and she only just felt on top of serving one lot of them on her own, let alone any splinter groups.

  In the safety of the kitchen, she was cursing them out loud now. Things were only just running to plan. They’d eaten the oysters and brown bread far more quickly than she’d expected and now her timing was out with the lamb, roasted potatoes and green beans. She decided to deliver another few bottles of wine to their table, hoping that would distract them while she got organised again.

  She had just opened one of the bottles when the front doorbell rang. Damn it. Why couldn’t the late arrivals have been really late, and given her enough time to at least serve the others their meals? Now there’d be a delay while they all started chatting and getting their drinks, while her lamb and vegetables shrivelled up in the oven… She hurriedly took off her apron and went to the front door, mentally calculating how to add more place settings without disturbing the others too much and working out which of the back bedrooms she could make up. Bottle of wine still in hand, she opened the door and plastered a fake smile on her face to greet the new arrival.

  It was Adam.

  She nearly shut the door again in shock. She blinked. He was still there, smiling at her.

  ‘Hello, Lainey.’

  ‘Adam? What on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve come to see you.’

  ‘But how did you get here?’

  ‘How do you think?’

  ‘But I had an email from you this morning. From Melbourne.’

  ‘It wasn’t from Melbourne, actually. I sent it from Singapore last night, during the stopover.’ He grinned. ‘Dave sent me an urgent text message to say you’d rung the restaurant again and he was worried you’d start getting suspicious that I wasn’t there. So I sent you the email, hoping it would buy me enough time to get here. I wanted to surprise you.’

  ‘Oh.’ She stared at him. She didn’t seem able to move or ask any sensible questions. There was a sudden burst of laughter from the dining room.

  He looked over her shoulder. ‘You’ve got company? I thought your theme weekends were over until next month.’

  How did he know that? ‘They are. This is a one-off.’

  ‘And what are you serving?’

  He’d flown from Australia to ask about her menu? ‘They’ve just had the oysters. I’m about to take the lamb in to them. Then the chocolate pudding for dessert.’

  ‘Are you doing the cooking and the waitressing?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Can I help at all? Would you like me to take over in the kitchen?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Do you want me to do the cooking?’

  She stared at him. ‘I would love you to do the cooking.’

  �
�Well, then.’ That smile. ‘Lead me to your kitchen.’

  This was all wrong, Lainey thought as he followed her into the kitchen. It shouldn’t be like this, should it? Shouldn’t they have run into each other’s arms? Shouldn’t she have burst into tears of joy and happiness? The truth was she was too shocked to know what to do. Adam, on the other hand, seemed perfectly relaxed. He took in the kitchen in a glance, checking inside the Aga, lifting the saucepan lids, starting to clear space on the bench to organise the plates. He glanced over at her, a very amused look in his eyes. ‘Are your guests waiting on that bottle of wine?’

  She nodded, mute again.

  ‘You might want to take it in to them.’

  ‘Oh. Yes, of course.’ She was on her way out when he called her back.

  ‘Lainey?’

  She turned.

  ‘You look very beautiful, by the way.’

  Lainey wondered if her guests noticed she was suddenly beaming from ear to ear.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  TWO HOURS LATER she was cursing herself and not smiling any more either. Why had she accepted this group booking? And why, especially, had she accepted a booking from a group of musicians? The late arrivals had turned up, fifteen minutes after Adam, two of them already half-filled with wine and far more interested in getting started on a sing-song than eating her carefully prepared gourmet meal. All the desserts had been put on hold, the group too busy talking and taking out their instruments. Lainey had counted two violins, a bodhrán, a guitar and a tin whistle when she’d delivered their new supplies of wine. Outwardly she was being the best hostess she could, while inside her heart was thumping, her pulse racing, her nerves on edge at the thought that Adam – Adam – was out in the kitchen.

  They hadn’t had a moment to talk yet. She was in a state of high tension. He, however, was completely relaxed, behaving as if he’d been brought up in this kitchen. He hadn’t commented on any of her unorthodox cooking preparations. He’d diplomatically done some rearranging of the oven shelves, checked a few ingredients with her, raised an eyebrow once or twice at her answers. Anyone watching would have assumed he was the usual chef and she was the usual front-of-house. A perfect team, no less.