The Other Side of Wonderful

by Caroline Grace-Cassidy

  At the time Sandra was reading The Secret. She was forced to make a choice. Did she want to believe that she was in the wrong place in her life? That she had no control over her circumstances, both with Neil’s affair and the fact she couldn’t get pregnant? Did she want to end the marriage and start all over again? Or did she want to believe in the Law of Attraction? The Law of Attraction said that like attracts like, so when you think a thought you are attracting like thoughts to you. Sandra wanted to have her marriage and her baby so she chose to believe in the Law of Attraction. She had to trust the Universe that she was in the right place. She also didn’t want to let any more hurt into her life so she chose to forgive and more importantly to try and forget and move on. Her vows had meant something to her even in that small registry office. Grudges were a waste of time and only brought ill health. Sandra believed in giving second chances. So she was telling the Universe that she needed a bigger house to hold all her babies. That’s what Cherry Hill had been about. It gave her hope that if she decorated a nursery in this house surely they would be blessed with a baby to fill it?

  If the baby came along, Neil would be happy. The baby.

  Sandra hung her polka-dot swimsuit on the small low radiator, trying to recapture the calm she had felt during her swim. But the door of her mind was open wide and negative thoughts kept pouring through one by one.

  They had spent over ten thousand euro they didn’t have on IVF and that was with the Drugs Payment Card. It had only succeeded in driving them further apart. She squeezed her eyes tight. Apart from the IVF costs, right now the house was worth a fraction of what they had paid for it, so financially they were ruined. They had sold Neil’s beautiful character-filled self-built bungalow and moved. The estate had twenty houses in all and only eleven had ever sold before the blast of the downturn hit them. The estate was now forbidding and unfinished and Sandra absolutely hated it. She had pictured the house complete with that nursery and swings in the garden and not like it stood today. It felt just like her. Barren. But with the belief that nothing more could come into her experiences unless she summoned it through persistent thoughts, she forgave Neil. With full intentions of giving her marriage a second chance they had moved in just as she was about to start the second round of IVF. A whole new beginning. The longing for this baby had quickly turned into a physical pain. Trips into Dublin to meet old friends for lunch were no more as there were just too many prams and mothers. She openly stared at pregnant women in the street and she seemed to see them everywhere. The most annoying part for her wasn’t so much seeing all these babies but the faces on some of the mothers. Unhappy faces. She knew darn well that having kids was tough and that everyone’s circumstances as a parent were different, but she just knew she’d be the happiest mother alive if God sent her this child. It wasn’t fair. How come everyone else seemed to get pregnant at the drop of a hat? Funnily enough, when she first began trying to fall pregnant she’d had a life too. Having a baby hadn’t occupied her every waking thought. She just presumed it would happen. When nothing did after a year it slowly became the way it was now. It crept up on her. It became her life. She’d never expected to feel like this. She had started to shun the women in Knocknoly whom she knew were pregnant or who already had kids. A lot of them met in Louise’s Loft on a Friday morning for coffee and cake and she always drove to work on those mornings so she didn’t have to walk past the shop. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy for others – it was just all too painful. She felt left out. She felt lonely and – she hated herself for this – jealous. So bloody jealous. It was even more strange to her because growing up she had never really been all that maternal – in fact the cabin crew used to draw straws to decide who would be unlucky enough to have to work sections of the aircraft carrying the most children – but as she grew older she had really looked forward to starting a family. Neil had said, amongst other nasty things, that she had become scarily obsessed and he was probably right. She had been obsessed. Completely obsessed. Demented. She had asked Jonathan to give her more hours at the hotel in the first instance so she could save money on the side for the second IVF and he had been fantastic to her. But suddenly her ‘IVF job’ that she had enjoyed immensely had become a highly pressurised full-time breadwinning role when Neil’s work ran dry.

  She took out her Strawberry Red Revlon lipstick and applied it expertly without the need of a mirror. She heard the big mahogany door of the hotel open with that familiar double creak and quickly snapped the lid back on her lipstick and made her way from the back office to the reception desk.

  “Good morning, how can I help you?” she asked the stunning redhead who stood in front of her, as she slipped in behind her shining wooden reception desk.

  “Oh, good morning! I’m Cara Byrne, your new hospitality manager. I’m here to meet with Mr Jonathan Redmond.”

  She was so quietly spoken that Sandra had to lean in to hear her.

  Cara extended her thin hand and Sandra shook it warmly.

  The newcomer’s eyes darted in her head and she seemed very anxious, nervous even, but it was her skin that Sandra couldn’t take her eyes off. It was translucent through a scattering of freckles.

  “Oh yes, of course, welcome! I’m Sandra Darragh, head receptionist, great to have you here. Let me just buzz up to Jonathan for you. Why don’t you take a seat?” Sandra lifted the receiver from the phone and held it over her shoulder. “Can I ask Tiff to bring you a coffee or a tea first?”

  Cara laughed and shook her head. “No thanks, I’m good. I’ve had about three cups of coffee already.” She took a seat on the long red-and-gold low-slung couch that was opposite reception. The morning’s newspapers were already laid out on a tall glass table beside her and a vase filled with fresh wild purple flowers was giving out the most gorgeous scent around the small reception area. She picked up a newspaper and flicked through it, not really reading the usual doom and gloom. Sandra had a great front-of-house manner and an aura about her that made you feel like you’d really love to befriend her and get to know everything about her, Cara thought. She was on the phone to Jonathan now, relaying other information first, and judging by her easy tone with her boss the two obviously had a really comfortable working relationship. Cara glanced up at the massive glistening chandelier that hung above the reception. It was magnificent. The hotel was lovely and warm without being overpowering. She looked across through the glass double-doors off the reception area to the intimate dining room that was now set for breakfast. Starched white linen tablecloths and silver cutlery sparkled back at her. A long table set out with juices of every colour in large jugs suddenly made her mouth feel dry. The large open windows looked out onto the breaking morning and Cara’s eyes were drawn to the open fields, mountains and sea in the far distance that peeped back in at her. A white horse walked by, led by a tall man in a green husky jacket and a well-worn tweed cap. Next door was the bar area and it was in dark mahogany wood with black leather couches and high-backed stools. An open fire was being cleaned out and fresh turf lay beside it waiting to be lit.

  The lift pinged and the gold doors opened slowly into reception. An elderly couple got out and smiled at Sandra.

  “Morning, Ronan and Phyllis!” Sandra waved at them and smiled broadly. “Ronan, your racing paper is here as requested. Phyl, do you want me to book Tara in the Haven for that foot massage this morning? I really think it would help you.”

  The older couple fussed around the desk as Sandra expertly took care of them and Cara lost herself in the lives of others.

  ***

  Jonathan Redmond hung up the phone, stood up and stretched his arms over his head. At six foot three inches he often got cramped sitting at his desk. He went to his filing cabinet and pulled out the file on Cara Byrne. He was sure she was the perfect person for this job. Over the last few years the Moritz had become a very popular venue for small intimate weddings and private functions and they needed someone on this full time. He glanced over her CV and read through her
experience again. Although she had no hotel experience, her on-the-ground experience meant more to them. She knew how to deal with people. Her years as a waitress combined with her recent college training made her ideal in his eyes. There was no point in having the education if you couldn’t deal with people and this industry was all about people. Pleasing people. Understanding people. Taking good care of people. There was no point in working in the trade if you weren’t a people person. Jonathan opened his desk drawer and pulled out his electric razor. Snapping the button to on, he quickly shaved. Then he left the office.

  Shutting the door securely behind him, he headed down towards the reception. As he walked he ran his expert index finger over the gold picture frames that adorned the walls of the hotel corridor, to check for dust. He was strict as a manager but also fair and kept a small but professional and tight team around him. Having grown up in Knocknoly himself he knew most of the older staff well. In fact his very first job had been as a dish-washer in this very hotel. Over the last few years in Ireland hotel staff had been mainly Eastern European but most had since left to return home and grateful Irish workers were now employed once more. Jonathan had returned only a year and a half ago after years in London. He had managed a top hotel, The Kingston in Knightsbridge, for ten years but was now happy to be back. He had closed the door behind him as the London hotel went into receivership. His thirties had been spent there and he knew it was time to go home. New decade, old life. He had never married. He occasionally wished he had met Miss Right but he was very set in his ways and, with the hours he kept, he just couldn’t seem to hold down a relationship. In London he had lived in at The Kingston so he was never really off duty. Hotel life was all he really knew.

  Jonathan loved his job. The Moritz had always been a part of his life and was very close to his heart. He had moved into his parents’ old home – they had long since passed and the house had been willed to him but he had rented it for years. His two brothers were in their late fifties and had moved to Australia and he heard from them infrequently. His mother had been forty-five when he was born. Not so very rare in this day and age but considered very unusual in those days. He was always the kid with the old parents. Sometimes he wished for her sake that he had married when she was alive, as she worried so about him but she was at peace now and he had his own life to lead. He had been on various dates but never, ever with members of staff: that was a hard and fast rule. Gail, a therapist in The Haven had asked him out on a date after months of them sort of flirting and, as tempted as he was, he’d had to turn her down. She left the following week, apparently saying she was mortified and couldn’t work with him any more after that, which really upset him as she had been a fantastic girl. Tara, the salon manager, had been furious with him.

  He just couldn’t mix business with pleasure. It never worked. Dermot Murray, the stable manager, had no such rules. Jonathan laughed quietly. Dermot was a tonic and a breath of fresh air around the place. What you saw was what you got. Dermot lived his life the way he wanted to live it and Jonathan really admired him for that. The two had been friends since they were boys.

  He pressed the lift button and the circular green light lit up around it, then he rubbed it with his jacket sleeve and stared at himself in the clean gold reflection of the lift doors. He was wearing a dark navy Tom Ford suit, dark navy shirt and a red-and-yellow tie. The red-and-yellow tie was worn by all employees and he liked to be seen as a regular member of staff. He wasn’t asking Cara to wear the tie though as he wanted her to appear more casual. His shoes glistened with fresh polish. That was another of his rules: shoes polished every night. His dark brown eyes took in every inch of the mirrored lift for marks now as he stepped in. He had dark circles under his eyes, he noted – as he hadn’t been sleeping too well lately.

  The hotel was doing okay, all things considered. They were keeping their heads above water. The recent renovations had been really necessary, he knew, but they hadn’t come cheap and they couldn’t afford to let any finances slide. That was the reason he was employing Cara Byrne. They needed to keep the functions coming in and keep offering superb value for money. Recession or no recession, he was confident that people still needed a break and that couples still tied the knot. He was happy to deliver value for money and demanded the best service from his staff. It had always been his ambition to own the Moritz. Someday. He closed his eyes for a few seconds as the lift powered down and the doors opened onto reception.

  “Cara?” He stood towering above her as she sat on the couch, apparently engrossed in the elderly couple chatting to Sandra. He extended his hand.

  “Hi – yes!” She jumped up a little too quickly and shook his hand.

  “It’s great to meet you at last. Can we chat in the office?” He pointed to the small room behind Sandra’s reception desk.

  She followed him quickly, briefcase tucked tightly under her arm.

  Chapter 3

  The cottage was in darkness when Cara got home, just as she had left it that morning. Knocknoly was literally over the bridge from the hotel so she could easily walk to and from work. But she didn’t feel that confident just yet. November seemed to be constantly dark and she couldn’t wait for spring to get here. She closed the door quickly and latched the thick safety chains and double bolt she’d had fitted that morning while she was at work. She flicked on the lamp and the room was softly illuminated. The landline rang out shrill and loud and she jumped.

  She grabbed for the receiver.

  “Oh, where have you been, love?” Esther Byrne was talking way too loudly as usual. Cara held the phone away from her ear as she flopped on the wicker chair and kicked off her black heels. “I’m fine, Mother! Relax, will you?”

  “Well, why aren’t you answering your mobile thingy then?”

  Her mother still worried about her at thirty-five years old. She supposed she had given her the very best of reasons to worry.

  “I’ve had a really busy day, Mam, and you know I have to turn my phone on silent while I am in work – at least in the beginning – and I have literally walked through the door this second.”

  No response came from the other end and Cara heard the tiny sounds that told her Esther was peeling the blue-and-gold paper off an éclair and popping the sweet into her mouth. Her mother had always kept a bowl of éclairs on the phone table on a white doily. Esther was addicted to éclairs. “I don’t have a problem!” she would insist. “It’s under control.” The bags and bags of éclairs under the kitchen sink would not agree. Empty éclair wrappers turned up in the most unexpected places.

  “Did you bring éclairs to Auntie Ann’s house, Mam? You are still in Ann’s, right?” Cara clutched the phone tightly to her ear.

  “I am, and, no, I didn’t bring them to Ann’s – she kindly bought me a few bags for while I am staying here. Jesus, I’m not an addict! I wouldn’t bring them to someone else’s house! So go on, will you, tell me everything! How was it then? What’s everyone like?”

  Esther’s sucky tones were paused as Cara filled her in on every detail. Her mother had been so encouraging and the main reason Cara had gone back to college. Cara hated herself for what she had put Esther through but she was learning not to look back. It was all about moving forward.

  “Hmmm, he sounds a bit sexy, ya’ wha’?” Esther said at the description of Jonathan and Cara laughed.

  “You know what, Mam, do not go there. He is my boss and, yeah, he isn’t too hard on the eye but a man is the last thing on this earth I want. Go easy on the éclairs, will you? Seriously, you won’t have a tooth left in your head!”

  Cara turned her head and quickly scanned the front room, the windows and doors. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Sorry, love,” her mam said, speaking lower. “Listen, I need to get ready for bingo and let Victoria out for her wee-wees. I still don’t know this bus timetable so I haven’t a clue where I am. I miss my own place and my own bus.” Esther’s voice was sad.

  “I know, Ma
m, I know you do. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Win big, okay?”

  “Are you okay there then? Did you sort all the security stuff out?”

  “Yes – now go, you bingo fiend!” Cara laughed and hung up.

  She flicked on the TV and let some evening soap show fill the house with noise. She padded into the kitchen and opened the fridge. She had bought a few essentials on her way down last night. Her appetite still wasn’t back by any means but she was feeling like she could pick at something. She removed two eggs from the box and whisked them into a bowl as she heated oil in the pan. She grated some cheddar cheese into the eggs, added salt and pepper and even sliced in a few baby tomatoes. She poured the mixture into her hot pan and it hissed as a woman screamed out on the TV in the background. She froze. Suddenly she couldn’t stomach the smell. She turned off the gas and emptied the mixture into the bin before pouring herself a large glass of white wine. She turned off the TV and headed into her bedroom.

  ***

  “I’m home!” Sandra called out as she banged the large red hall door on the chilly dark night.

  She made her way down the long hall towards the warmth of the kitchen. The kitchen was the only room in the house that kept any heat in it. She untangled her bright orange woolly scarf as she wondered if Neil was home at all. The van was in the driveway but he sometimes used his Vespa. If so, what sort of mood would he be in? Was she imagining the worst? Was she being unfair to him? Her eyes narrowed and she dropped the scarf onto the crook of her arm. The kitchen was dark and she flicked on the lights. The table lay bare and there was no sign or smell of her pre-made lasagne heating. It was also freezing in there so no one had been in the kitchen all day. She double-checked that she had remembered to leave the lasagne out this morning and sure enough she had. It sat lonely in its shiny coat of tinfoil on the chrome counter.