by Izzy Bayliss
The view was magnificent. The land dipped and peaked for miles around covered with a hair of grassy reeds. Wispy white clouds were pulled delicately across the peacock-blue sky. A passenger ferry cut a silvery wave through the water below us looking like a toy boat from up there.
“It's amazing up here,” I said eventually.
“On a clear day you can see all the way to Wales,” Sam said proudly.
“Do you come here often?” Then I realised it sounded like a cheesy pick up line, and we both started to laugh.
“Well this was the beach that Marita and myself always came to as children. I have great memories from this place, if I ever need to get away from it all, I find a walk here usually sorts me out.”
I couldn't imagine the usually so cheery Sam ever having a bad day, he seemed to be permanently in a good mood.
After the beach, we had worked up an appetite. We managed to find a cosy pub in the harbour and we slotted into a little snug down the back. We ordered a feast of Dublin bay prawns, which the waitress told us were landed only yards away. Sam's arm was draped around my shoulder and it felt good. Beyond the window, dusk was starting to fall over the pretty white fishing boats and yachts that were docked in the harbour. A tea-light flickered on the table in front of us casting a warm glow around the panelled walls.
“So is this our first date?” I asked taking a sip from my wine.
“I suppose it is.”
Sam dropped me home when we were finished, and as we sat in the car talking at the end of the night, I didn't want the day to end. I had had the most amazing time – it had been so long since I had had that much fun.
“I really, really enjoyed today,” I said. “Thank you.”
“You don't need to thank me, I'm glad you had fun.”
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you so nice to me?”
“Because I like you, Lily. Isn't it obvious?”
“I wanted to say sorry.”
“For what?”
“Well when you went to kiss me that time . . .”
He raised his hand to stop me. “You don't need to apologise.”
“I want to explain, Sam. I love being with you, I have so much fun in your company . . .”
“I sense a but coming –”
“But, I've been badly hurt before . . .”
He reached across the gearstick and placed his hand over mine giving it a squeeze.
“You know we can take it as slowly as you need – I'm not going anywhere and I'm not going to break your heart.” Sam gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“How do you know you won't?" I asked.
“Because I'm a man of my word – look I don't know what happened before, and maybe someday you'll feel ready to tell me, but I promise you, Lily I won't do anything to hurt you. Just give us a chance, please. You won't regret it.”
I knew this was the right time to be open and honest with Sam about Marc but it was like a stubborn tie had come over my tongue, I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
Whether it was his kind words or because I was caught up in the wonderful day we had just had, suddenly I didn't care about Marc, I didn't care that my head told me that it was too soon. The moment felt right. I felt myself drawn to him like some magnetic force that was pointless trying to resist. Before I knew what I was doing, I had leant forward across the gearstick and our lips met. They were soft and full and felt gentle against mine. He kissed me back with a longing and intensity that I couldn't remember ever having felt before. It felt good. Really good. I was expecting it to be weird but it wasn’t at all, in fact it felt completely right. My heart was racing; it had been years since I kissed anyone but Marc. And although the way Marc had behaved told me never to trust another man again, something told me that Sam was different.
“Goodnight, Sam,” I whispered as I got out of the car.
“Goodnight, Lily,” he said with a wide grin spreading across his face.
I walked across the car park and climbed the steps to my duplex. I put my key in the lock and let myself in, and as I shut the door behind me I jumped up and down and squealed.
Chapter 28
I was careful not to rush things with Sam – I was enjoying being with him so much that I didn’t want to ruin what we had. At the weekends we would go for a walk along the beach and browse the farmers' market. He would always drop me home afterwards, but I would never invite him in. I was not ready to take the next step yet. I knew he was probably wondering when I would stay over in his or invite him to stay in mine, but if he was, he never let on. I still hadn’t plucked up the courage to tell him about Marc. I had hidden all the photos of us that were in my home, and there was none of his stuff left after I got rid of it all. Sam had asked me casually about my exes, but I just blew him off. I didn’t want to scare him away by offloading all my baggage onto him. I knew I would have to say something soon but how? I didn’t want there to be any secrets between us – secrets brought trouble with them. I of all people knew that. I had met all of his friends, but he had only met Frankie – I wasn’t ready yet to introduce him to other people, plus I was worried they would let it slip about Marc and I, and I wanted him to hear it from me first.
I could tell Frankie was impressed by Sam – not only was he a hottie, but he was a gentleman too, which made him even sexier. He was old fashioned in a black and white movie kind of way; he held open doors, and if we were out to dinner and I got up from the table, he stood up too. He always let me choose the movie when we went to the cinema. He was really close to his family, which I always think is a good sign. He was the polar opposite to Marc in lots of ways, which could only be a good thing. I was worried that people would think that I was moving on too quickly. I told Dad about him, and he was delighted for me and told me not to give a fiddler’s what people thought once I was happy myself.
One day a few weeks later, we brought his nephew Cian and his younger sister Ava to Playfactory, a children's entertainment centre. With only a few days left before Christmas, Marita wanted to get some last minute shopping done so Sam had offered to mind the kids for a few hours and she had gladly accepted. He had suggested that I bring Jacob and Joshua too, but I told him there was no way I would be able to control them in a place like that, and he hadn’t disagreed.
Sam was a natural with his nephew and niece, he had dived into the ball-pool with them, and when little Ava had been too scared to come down the slide, he had squeezed through pipes and climbed up the padded steps before bringing her down on his knee. I could never in a million years imagine Marc playing with children like that – in fact he had always seemed quite scared of them, like he was just waiting for them to be sick on his suede shoes.
Just as we were coming out of Playfactory, we were holding Cian and Ava's hands between us when I spotted Clara, Tom and the boys coming along the path towards us. I tried turning to the right so she wouldn’t see me, but my human chain was too long and Cian started asking where I going. It was too late, Clara had spotted me. Oh God, how was I going to explain this, I thought? I purposely hadn't told her about Sam because I was afraid of how she would react.
“Lily!” she exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing here and who owns those children.” She pointed at Cian and Ava. Even though she had children herself, she looked upon other people’s kids with disdain.
I took a deep breath and prayed that Clara wasn't going to make things difficult for me. “Clara – this is Sam, his nephew Cian and his niece Ava.”
“Sam – this is my sister Clara, her husband Tom and you know the boys.”
Tom looked quite sheepish; he was still mortified over his antics in Galway.
I didn't offer any explanation of who Sam was and I could see Clara getting irritated.
“Nice to meet you.” Sam held out his hand to shake Clara’s but she looked at him like he was diseased. Tom shook it then.
“How do you know, Sam?” she turned and asked the boys hoping they migh
t provide a clue as to what was going on, but my little soldiers remained tight-lipped. I flashed them a smile.
“Look, we’d better go, Clara – Ava is exhausted,” I said.
“But – but, Lily?”
“Yes?”
“Erm – I was just . . .” She paused, “look I’ll give you a ring tonight.”
I groaned.
“Right I’ll talk to you later on.”
“Well that was awkward,” Sam said as soon as they had gone inside the door.
“It’s just typical of Clara – she will ring me this evening and interrogate me, just you wait and see!”
“And that’s the husband that didn’t come home from the stag party?” Sam asked laughing. “She must have taken off his shackles for the day.”
We dropped the kids home before heading back to Sam’s apartment in Spencer Dock. He had a beautiful home; it was all high-end furnishings and minimalist sleek lines. All of the walls were painted white, which contrasted with the warmth of the polished oak floorboards. The living room had a red, L-shaped sofa scattered with huge multi-coloured cushions to brighten up the otherwise muted decor. There was a 40-inch flat-screen TV hanging from the wall, and colourful canvases hung randomly. His kitchen had white high gloss cupboards with soft close drawers beneath. I noticed that the worktops were empty, not littered with things like in my kitchen. The appliances were all Miele and finished in stainless steel. His bathroom had dimmed spa lighting and a standalone basin with a central tap and mocha coloured tiles. The bathtub stood in the centre of the floor and it looked like a heavenly place to unwind after a long day.
When you stepped outside through the floor to ceiling glass doors, he had a roof garden with views over three sides of the city. The views across the rooftops were amazing – you could see the Ringsend chimneystacks on one side and the Spire when you went around the other side. He had lots of large plant containers with tropical plants and bamboo along the other side to give some privacy.
The first time I had seen the place, I had been in complete awe. My mouth had hung open, but Sam modestly had said that he couldn't take any of the credit - his sister Marita had done it all for him. She was an interior designer. I decided that if I ever won the lotto, I would be hiring her.
We sat down onto the swinging chair on the balcony and I rested my head against his chest as we sipped our wine. Even though it was December, it was quite a mild evening, and we were able to sit out there with our coats on.
After eight my phone rang as expected. It was Clara. She was so predictable, I knew she would just have put the boys to bed and now was ringing me to find out what was going on. It had probably wrecked her head so much that it had ruined her day. I knew what the conversation was going to go like, plus I was comfy lying back in Sam’s strong arms, so I didn’t answer it.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” he asked.
“Nope – I couldn’t face Clara now.”
“But what’s wrong with you having a boyfriend – you’re thirty-two years of age for God's sake!”
I felt guilty again for not being completely honest with him, but the more we got to know one another, the harder it had become to tell him. I really liked him and now the longer my secret about Marc remained hidden, the more I was afraid that the truth would jeopardise everything.
Earlier that day I had decided that that was the night I would finally stay over in Sam’s. I had thought it over a lot, and I couldn’t hold out any longer – I wanted him. I was bloody nervous though – Marc was the only person I had ever slept with, and he was the only one that had seen my wobbly bits in all their glory. I was afraid that once Sam saw me naked, he would make an excuse not to see me again. I supposed I looked alright with my clothes on, but taking them off was a whole different kettle of fish. And where was I meant to get changed? Would he expect me to do some half-fangled striptease dance? I used to get changed in the bathroom when Marc was there, and then I would get into bed in my pyjamas and he would undress me under the covers so no one saw anything, but I didn’t know what everyone else did in the bedroom nowadays? I felt so inexperienced. Luckily I had put on nice underwear that morning – well what I hoped Sam thought was nice – I didn’t know what single girls were wearing these days – crotchless knickers might be the norm for all I knew! I had chosen a simple set in Marks and Spencer’s the day before. I had gone for a navy plunge bra with a cerise pink trim and matching French knickers. I had spent so long agonising over what colour to buy that the security guard began to hover around me, but it was a hard decision to make. The colour was important - white was too boring, black too obvious and red was too raunchy. Then there was the worry of what to do with my lady garden. I knew Brazilians and even Vajazzles were all the rage these days or even completely shaven, but I had only got my regular bikini wax. I really wished I had asked Frankie – she would have told me what to do.
I was so nervous as Sam kissed me and we made our way to the bedroom because we both knew what was coming next. I tried to just relax and enjoy it, but my mind wouldn't switch off. I was going to have sex with another person that wasn't Marc. Then Sam began to undress me, and I was relieved that there were no striptease performances expected as we found our way down onto the bed. We had slow, tender sex and it felt bloody amazing. As he moved inside me, it felt right and I didn't feel nervous anymore. We both climaxed in a shuddering heap and as I lay there in the crook of his arm afterwards, I felt on top of the world. And the best bit was that Sam didn’t tell me I was doing it wrong, or ask what in the name of God was that? He didn’t jiggle my wobbly bits or grab the higher roll of flab on my tummy and pretend that it was talking to the bottom one like Marc used to do after we had sex, instead we lay there and he stroked my shoulder and told me how happy I made him.
Chapter 29
Sam dropped me home the next morning and we kissed passionately in the car park, neither of us wanting to say goodbye. It was amazing how close we had become in the space of a few months. Reluctantly I climbed out of his car and headed for my duplex. I was only in the door five minutes when my bell rang, and suddenly Clara was on my doorstep.
“Clara,” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” I had managed to put Clara out of my head after her phone call the night before.
“We need to talk, Lily,” she said walking past me and straight into the living room. “God I’d forgotten how small this apartment is.”
“It’s a duplex,” I said through gritted teeth. “It has a doorbell.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Apartments have buzzers, I have a doorbell.”
“Right, Lily – let’s not be pedantic. If you want to call it a ‘duplex’, we’ll call it a ‘duplex’.” She was being patronising, and it sounded like she was talking to one of her children. “Why didn’t you call me back last night?” she demanded.
“Sorry I forgot,” I lied.
“Hmm. I was talking to Dad,” she continued.
This sounded ominous. “And?”
“Well, he tells me that you’ve met someone else?”
I knew Dad wouldn’t have said it unless Clara probed him for information, which I’m sure she did straight after she bumped into us yesterday.
“Yes, I have actually.”
“Well don’t you think it’s a bit soon?” Her eyes flashed at me.
“I’ll tell you what I think, Clara – I think it’s none of your business. That is what I think!” I couldn’t believe I had spoken to her like that – never, ever before had I done that. All the years of biting my tongue and internalising my rage, had in that instant come to a head and I just snapped.
“But you've only been separated for a few months!”
“It wasn’t like I went out looking to meet someone new – in fact that was the last thing I wanted, but sometimes these things just find us.”
“There you go again spouting your romantic ‘fate and destiny, loves finds us’ nonsense. When are you ever going
to grow up and join the rest of us in the real world? When are you going to become a responsible adult?”
“I like to think I already am one actually.”
“Lily, you’re thirty-two years old, you’re separated after a mere three months of marriage, you got fired from what has to be the world’s easiest job, and then you decide to set up a bakery even though you have no formal qualifications. You can’t drive, yet you live in an apartment in the middle of bally-go-backwards and expect everyone else to ferry you around the place. Well Mam would be very proud of you!” Her eyes flashed with anger.
“How dare you, Clara. How dare you say that about Mam.” It felt like she had punched me. Her words stung me like they were physically piercing my skin. She had gone a step too far, even for me.
“You think you can just sail through life sans responsibilities. Well I think we’re all growing a bit tired of the Daddy’s little girl act at this stage, Lily.”
“Clara, what are you talking about?”
“I know what you and Dad are like – the pair of you together whispering ‘oh there goes Clara again’ and laughing at me behind my back, do you think I can’t see you?”
“But what has that got to do with me and Sam?”
“Because, Lily what I’m trying to say is that I’m sick of always looking out for you and trying to help you, steering you in the right direction and then you go off and do stupid things anyway.”
“You don’t look after me!”
“Lily, I have been looking after you since you were two years old.”
“I think you’ll find it was Dad who brought me up thanks.”
“No he didn’t,” she sneered. “He was grieving. He was a mess, I was the one who held it all together.” Her face had gone red and her nostrils flared slightly.
“But you were only five!”
“Exactly, Lily!” She lowered her voice and I could see tears in her eyes. “I was only five years old.” And with that she walked back out the door, leaving me stunned and wondering what had just happened in my own home.