‘Who knows!’
They’d finished eating when Andy called on Patrick and Moya to cut the cake, everyone giving them a rousing cheer as they stood up and joined hands holding the knife.
The speeches were great. Her father slowly rose to his feet, the piece of paper with his speech left discreetly on the table in front of him. Kate held her breath as Frank Dillon told everyone just how much he loved his darling eldest daughter and how happy he was that she had met Patrick. Kate blushed crimson when he mentioned that it was through her younger sister they had met, and that Kate should take full credit for bringing the two of them together. She could feel her mouth go dry and her eyes burn as he went on. Why had he made no mention of that to her earlier? He rambled on about their childhood and Moya and all the broken hearts there would be now that the beauty of the family had married. Everyone was upstanding as he toasted the bride and groom. Kate sipped with relief at the glass of champagne as finally with much clapping and applause he sat down, red-faced and sweating as the barman brought the double whiskey he’d ordered earlier.
Patrick’s father stood up and with much aplomb warmly welcomed Moya to their family and thanked her for taking on their son.
‘I know that my beautiful new daughter-in-law will be a great influence on Patrick, and that he in turn will be a good husband to her.’
Andy followed, reading some telegrams and messages of goodwill before embarking on his best man’s speech.
‘I am mightily relieved that my brother the Romeo of the Redmond family has finally found his Juliet,’ he joked, which brought a loud thumping from the table at the back of the marquee where Patrick’s friends were sitting. Then he wondered aloud how the beautiful Moya was going to put up with his brother’s bad habits, everyone laughing as he listed them. Moya put on a rueful face, saying she’d put up with them. He ended by thanking Kate and Romy for being such beautiful bridesmaids.
Finally Patrick stood up, his face serious as he thanked their parents for the wonderful meal and reception and everyone for coming along to share in their special day, declaring at the end: ‘I met the girl of my dreams in this house and there was nothing left for me to do but marry her.’
Kate could feel a huge lump in her throat as she remembered that night, trying to compose herself as Moya reached up and kissed him, the whole room breaking into rapturous applause for the happy couple.
Chapter Sixteen
ROMY RAN HER fingers through her tousled hair. Her feet were killing her from dancing in the dainty little shoes her mother and Kate had picked out to go with their dresses. Larry, the groom’s man, had asked her up to dance as soon as the floor began to fill up. A conceited young barrister, he’d managed to bore her all through the meal with his talk of law courts, barely bothering to ask her what she was doing. She had no intention of letting him monopolize her for the rest of the night and dumped him as soon as she could, watching as some of Moya’s single girlfriends flapped around him. They were more than welcome! She wriggled her toes trying to get the circulation going as Fergus signalled her to get up again.
Aunt Vonnie was smooching with Uncle Joe on the big wooden dance floor as if they were teenage lovers and Uncle Eamonn was dancing with Mrs Redmond like they were in a ballroom dancing competition. She supposed priests didn’t know a lot about dancing or get much practice. Her mam and dad had already made eejits of themselves dancing earlier on to some old Rolling Stones music while Moya and Patrick just kept staring into each other’s eyes. Everyone could see they were mad about each other.
Thank God for her cousins Fergus and Conor who had at least made her laugh and had great rhythm and loved dancing. Kate had been stuck up at the top table with the old folks and Andrew Redmond, who though he wasn’t a patch on his handsome brother seemed a nice guy. Kate had got up to dance with him and chatted away with him as they moved around the floor.
Her parents were enjoying themselves: her mother had three gin and tonics lined up in front of her and was lost in conversation with Rosemary Quigley and Mary Corrigan and Lucy Ryan, her first cousin, while her father was standing up at the bar with a crowd of men nursing a glass of Paddy, proud as punch because the whole day had gone so well.
‘The sun even stayed out,’ he boasted.
Romy was exhausted from constantly dancing – even young Jack Dillon had twirled her around the room – and talking to all the relations who kept telling her how grown up she’d got! Giddy from the wine and the music and the heat in the marquee she stepped outside to get a breath of cool fresh air. The garden looked amazing, all lit up with a mixture of fairy lights and candles, which flickered in the darkness, the scent of honeysuckle heavy in the night air.
‘How ya, Romy?’
She spun around, recognizing the voice immediately. It was Brian. Her Brian. ‘What are you doing here?’ she gasped.
‘I’m home from London for a few days and I heard that McHugh’s needed a few extra barmen to cover a wedding party so I signed up for the job. I’m used to pulling pints and changing barrels. I could do with a bit of extra cash.’
‘I can’t believe that you’re here at Moya’s wedding. I didn’t even see you earlier.’
‘I only came on duty at seven, though I was helping back at the pub before that.’
Suddenly Romy felt shy, standing there all dressed up in her long bridesmaid’s dress. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said as if reading her mind.
Romy grinned. Usually she was wearing jeans or shorts or old tracksuit bottoms and her runners when she met him.
‘Do you like it?’
He reached forward, his hands touching the outline of her shoulder and breast.
‘You know I do.’
She caught his hand in hers, tracing the length of his finger and palm, wanting to feel the touch of his skin against hers. She’d missed him so much. Without thinking she kissed his thumb, as Brian pulled her close to him.
‘I’m working, Romy,’ he groaned. ‘Old man McHugh will go mad if he sees me here with you. I’d better get back to the bar.’
‘What time are you working till?’
‘I suppose about two.’
‘Then I’ll wait for you. I’ll meet you back out here. Promise you won’t forget.’
‘I’ll see you at two,’ he promised, lightly touching her lips with his.
Sitting out on a garden chair she could hardly think as the noise of music and laughter filled the darkness. Brian home for a few days: it was too good to contemplate. If she had her way, almost every waking hour of that time would be spent with her. She’d better go back inside as Moya had to change for going away.
The music had stopped, the band packing up their instruments and amps and loading them into a small mini-van near the shed. The bar was shut and only a few hangers-on still sat in the marquee chatting or saying protracted goodbyes out on the patio. Moya and Patrick had taken leave of everybody earlier and were staying in a fancy hotel about a mile away before heading off the next afternoon to Nice on their honeymoon.
Romy tried to stop herself yawning as she looked around for Brian, almost jumping out of her skin with delight when he appeared.
‘I told Mikey to take the van home, and that I’d walk. We’ve loaded it up with glasses and the spirits and three crates of wine. The keg is empty and we’ll come back tomorrow for the rest.’
‘God, they must have gotten through tons of drink. Daddy is pissed and is gone to bed. If you stand under the window over there you’ll probably hear him snoring!’
‘It sure was some big bash. It must have cost your old man a fortune.’
‘I know. Only the best for Moya.’
‘Sure it will probably be the same for you.’
She shook her head, adamant.
‘If and when I get married, it will be a much smaller affair. Six or eight people, a nice long white dress and a pair of sandals or flip-flops.’
‘Flip-flops?’
‘Yeah, I want to get married on a beach. Somewhere
quiet and romantic.’
‘What about somewhere quiet and romantic tonight?’ he suggested.
‘That would be nice,’ she replied, stretching her arms up around his neck.
‘A walk, down by the beach!’
She considered. She was still angry with him for going away and leaving her but now that he was home the chance to spend time together alone was too good to miss. ‘I need to change my shoes,’ she giggled, displaying the red weals on her feet and toes. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
She raced upstairs and into her room, forgetting about Kate, who was lying in the camp bed.
‘You’re already in bed!’
‘I’m exhausted. Romy, hurry on and get undressed and turn off the light!’
‘I’m going out.’
‘Out?’
‘Brian’s downstairs waiting for me. We’re going for a walk.’
‘Romy, I thought it was over with you two now that he’s in London.’
‘I did too. But with Brian and me things are so different. It’s like we’re two pieces of a sculpture or a jigsaw that are meant to be together. He’s always been a part of my life. I can’t explain it, Kate.’
‘Just be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.’
‘I’ll be all right, promise.’
Grabbing a pair of sandals and a little white cardigan she raced back down. Brian was leaning against the wooden pergola, smoking. She could feel her heart flip as she looked at his broad shoulders and closely cropped brown hair and blue eyes. Silently he took her hand as they walked through the garden and out the gate and down the hill towards the sea, the moonlight silvering their path and skimming the glinting surface of the sea. She stopped as he bent down to kiss her, her mouth clinging to his, her body pressing against him, wanting him as always.
‘I missed you,’ he said huskily.
She gave in, letting his hands roam her body, her eagerness matching his. She wanted to make love just as much as he did, her body aching for the familiar feel of him. Half drunk with lust they almost staggered down to the waterfront, clambering over the low stone wall and sitting in the darkness watching the gentle swell of the tide. She leaned against him, enjoying the familiar smell of his skin, his hair. She’d been with other boys since he’d gone away, desperate to replace the familiar feeling, always disappointed by them, by her response to them. None of them could compare to him, could match the feelings he stimulated in her as he began to kiss her deeply, their breath coming together as they explored each other’s mouths. She moaned as he kissed her neck, wanting to savour every moment of their reunion. She wanted him more than anything, wanted his physical touch.
‘Not here.’
He grabbed her hand and pulled her across the grassy slope, back towards the headland, deserted now except for the holiday houses.
‘I have the key.’ He fiddled in his pocket and opened the door to one.
She watched as he put on the light and drew the curtains. The brightness highlighted the clean but shabby interior awaiting the arrival of new summer visitors.
‘The family went back to Cork today and Mam said the new people aren’t coming till Tuesday.’
A smile spread across Romy’s face as she reached for him and pulled him towards her. ‘Then it’s ours for tonight.’
She followed him into the bedroom, unashamed as he pulled her down onto his lap, breathless as she moved against him. He groaned as she slipped out of her long dress and turned towards him. Already aroused, Brian began to caress her naked skin and hips and thighs until after only a few minutes she was the one begging him to enter her, her body curving to meet his.
Afterwards she lay in his arms, exhausted and sated, knowing that no-one else had the power to make her feel the way he did, that her body responded uniquely to Brian’s. As she lay with her head against his chest listening to the beat of his heart she knew that for the next few days being with Brian was all that mattered. She couldn’t bear the thought of them being apart.
Chapter Seventeen
THE COLLEGE’S MEDICAL office was quiet as Romy filled in a form listing all her details: home address, course, health cover, etc. Fortunately, except for a girl with severe acne, the room was deserted. Twenty minutes later the doctor had called her in.
Embarrassed, she haltingly told him the results of the home pregnancy kit she’d done five days before. The doctor passed her a jar and sent her outside to the toilet, than examined her on her return.
‘Well, Romy, as you suspected you are definitely pregnant. You seem fit and healthy and I would envisage a normal pregnancy.’
‘I can’t have a baby,’ she blurted out appalled. ‘I’m only in second year arts.’
He stopped writing and put his pen down.
‘When was your last period?’
She tried to remember: it was about two weeks before Moya’s wedding.
He took out a circular cardboard wheel and turned it around.
‘Your baby is due on 10 May.’
‘My exams, what am I going to do?’
‘You could defer,’ he said gently, ‘or repeat the year.’
The full horror of her circumstances hit her as she sat in the black leather chair opposite him.
‘I don’t want to have a baby. I’m too young.’
‘Do you have a boyfriend?’
She thought of Brian. She loved him like crazy but she wasn’t sure she could call him a boyfriend.
‘Do you know who the baby’s father is?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded dumbly, feeling humiliated.
‘Is he a student also? I could talk to him if you want.’
She shook her head vigorously. She needed time to think, to decide what to do.
‘Have you told him yet?’
‘No.’
It was like some awful nightmare that you would see in a film or read about in a book, never imagining it could happen to you.
‘What about your parents? Will they be supportive, do you think?’
She moaned aloud, thinking of breaking the news to her parents.
‘Listen, Romy, don’t panic. You are young and fit and healthy and we can organize to book you into a maternity hospital and arrange for you to see an obstetrician for your pre-natal care.’
‘I don’t want it,’ she said, breaking down. ‘I don’t want to book into a hospital or a doctor. I don’t want to have this baby. Do you understand?’
‘Listen, you’re scared. Many young women are nervous when they discover they are pregnant. We handle a number of student pregnancies here on campus every year. The college make allowances, there are programmes put in place, counsellors and advisers who will talk to you, lend you support.’
‘I don’t want their fecking help. I just don’t want to be pregnant!’ she yelled at him, jumping up.
‘It’s going to be all right,’ he said, reassuring her, making her want to bawl in his arms as he passed her some tissues from his desk. ‘Nurse Malone is outside. She will give you some general information leaflets on pregnancy and a bottle of folic acid tablets, which are important for you to take for the baby at this stage. Also I’d like her to do a general blood test on you, which we should get back next week.’
Romy felt sick at the thought of tablets and tests.
‘She will make an appointment for you to come and see me again so we can talk about where you’d like to have the baby and the kind of cover you want.’
Like a zombie she walked to the door with him and sat in the seat beside the nurse, rolling up her sleeve, not wanting to think about what was happening to her.
She sat through a lecture on American literature contrasting the work of Steinbeck and Scott Fitzgerald in a total daze, not writing a single word on her pad, hardening her heart for the days ahead. Now she had definite confirmation she’d get in touch with Brian, and talk to him.
She got home before the others and dialled the code for England, praying she’d catch him. His uncle came on the phone.
; ‘I’m sorry, Brian’s not here at the moment.’
‘Will he be back soon?’ she asked, trying to keep the panic from her voice.
‘Well that’s just it, love. We’re not expecting him back. He signed up for a six-month contract in Germany. He left for Frankfurt about ten days ago.’
‘Frankfurt!’
‘Who is that?’
‘It’s a friend of his, Romy. Romy Dillon.’
‘Ah sure I’ve heard him talk about you.’
‘Do you have an address or phone number for him, Mr Murphy? I need to talk to him fairly urgently.’
‘Brian’s staying in a hostel but he told Mary he’d write with an address once he got one, but unfortunately we haven’t heard from him yet. You know what lads are like! I’m sure we’ll hear from him soon if you want to call again, or otherwise try his mother. She might know.’
She thanked him for his help and getting up her courage phoned Lavelle’s. Sheila O’Grady was surprised to hear from her but admitted she too was awaiting a letter with Brian’s new address and was anxious to discover how he was getting on in work.
‘Is everything all right, Romy?’ she enquired.
‘I just badly need to talk to him about something, that’s all.’
Puzzled, Sheila began to put down the phone.
‘Mrs O’Grady, if you are talking to him,’ Romy struggled to control the emotion in her voice, ‘will you please ask him to phone me immediately.’
Two long weeks passed and there were no phone calls, no letters, Brian unaware of the calamity of her pregnancy. Romy had never felt so isolated and alone in her entire life. She couldn’t think straight and didn’t know what to do. The campus nurse had made an appointment for her in Holles Street Hospital where a Dr Ryan would look after her. On a noticeboard in college she had found the number of two clinics in London that arranged terminations of pregnancies, which involved only an overnight stay. The cost was exorbitant and she didn’t know how she was going to find the money. She was already beginning to show and knew she could not leave it much longer to decide about ending the pregnancy or having the baby.
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