The Other Side of Wonderful

by Caroline Grace-Cassidy

  “I love all this,” she told her dad as she sucked her cherry Coke through her luminous green straw.

  “Listen in school, love,” he had said as he pulled hard on his Major cigarette. “Learn – take the opportunity education can give you – take it all in and go to college. One day you could become a part of this industry – wouldn’t that be grand all the same?” She could still see that box now: green and white with his trusty gold Zippo lighter on top. Esther had his name engraved on it one Christmas. Every time someone struck a Zippo gas lighter it brought her straight back to Lar Byrne. Esther was always on at him to quit. “They killed your own father!” she would chastise him but he would laugh. “It’s my life, Esther, and I enjoy my fags – leave me in peace, would you?” But Cara would notice he’d always squeeze Esther’s leg fondly as he spoke. Lar loved Esther, that much was true.

  “Why am I telling you all this?” she asked Alex. She shook her head as she watched him light another cigarette.

  “Because I want to know. Because I asked.” He leaned towards her as Christy Moore’s “Ride On” was sung out around them. “Because I think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my entire life. You took my breath away the moment I saw you.” His eyes were heavy with desire. “Because I believe in fate and that’s what this is, Cara Byrne. This is fate.” He steadily placed his cigarette in the ceramic ashtray holder and leaned in and kissed her slowly on the lips and she felt dizzy. How had this happened? That morning when she set out for work she was slightly grumpy and just wanted an early night and to watch The Kardashians. Now this? Now she was sitting here with birds singing in her head and stars floating before her eyes. She felt beautiful. She was smitten. He was too good to be true. This didn’t happen to girls like her. Did it?

  ***

  “It’s jammed again, has it?”

  Cara jumped out of her skin as Sandra put her hand on her shoulder.

  “Oh sorry, Cara, you were miles away. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just heard that dreaded whirring noise – it’s haunting me. Are you okay?” Sandra put her hand on Cara’s shoulder.

  Cara stood up. “Yeah, it has. Sorry, Sandra, I was miles away, yes – daydreaming again . . . listen, I have enough copies here now anyway, thanks.”

  She squeezed past Sandra and went out, leaving Sandra to clear up her mess.

  Put your spillage in the bin yourself, Sandra thought as she looked at the clock. Someone hit the bell on reception. Sandra let out a slow breath – it was one of those days.

  “Ah, Phyl, what can I do for you?” she asked the guest.

  “Well, the thing is, Sandra, we have been talking in there and you know how much we love this hotel and we will be fifty-five years married in January and, well, we want to book a party!” Her eyes lit up.

  “Hang on a minute, Phyl – excuse me.” Sandra hurried to the foot of the stairs – Cara was halfway up. “Cara!”

  “Yes?” Cara turned round.

  “Mrs Delaney has a question about a party. Could you deal with it now or are you busy? I can ask her to come back later?”

  “Sure, absolutely, now is perfect, Sandra.” Cara made her way back down the deep-blue-and-white carpeted stairs.

  She escorted the older woman back into the lounge. The piano that Jonathan had bought last week at an auction in Newry was now in use and a young man in a tuxedo tinkled quietly on the keys in the background.

  “So what did you have in mind?” Cara removed her notebook and pen from her briefcase as they sat.

  “Well, something big – like invite all our family and friends – he’s not been too well, you know, love, he –”

  “Good afternoon,” Tiffney interrupted them, a silver tray balanced on her left hand with her orders pad and pen on top. “May I get you anything to drink, ladies?”

  They ordered two teas and continued.

  “The thing is,” said Phyl, “I wouldn’t be great on computers and emails and all that and he’s useless. We can hardly use our mobile phones! So I’d need a bit of help, love. Our son Liam is in Australia and won’t be back and our daughter Maia has crippling MS, so I can’t ask her to help.”

  “I can do it.” Cara took the other woman’s hand. “Mrs Delaney, can I call you Phyllis?”

  “Of course, love.”

  “Right – let me grab the red diary and look at available dates. Where is Mr Delaney?”

  “Ah, he’s lying down again – he has angina and he’s not too well with it today. But call me Phyl, will ya?”

  “Well, let him rest, Phyl – aren’t we women better at these things anyway?” Cara proclaimed as Tiff arrived with the tea and a plate of assorted chocolate biscuits.

  Phyl stuffed a chocolate shortbread in her mouth and nodded in agreement.

  ***

  Hines was quiet as Sandra sat up at the bar.

  “Hi ya, Charlie, a pint of Budweiser extra cold, please,” she said as she twisted the stool around to face him.

  “Haven’t seen you in here in an age. How’s Neiler?” Charlie flipped a beer mat over in his hand and dropped it in front of her.

  “Fine, thanks.” Sandra smiled at him. “We’re busy, you know yourself.”

  “Make that two, will you, Charlie?” Dermot came up behind Sandra and sat up on a stool alongside her.

  “Mind if we head into the snug?” she asked and he shook his head.

  He paid and took the pints, one in each hand, and followed her in.

  She sat as Dermot put the pints down and pulled the old sliding wooden door across. “Thanks for the pint and for today,” she said, lifting her glass when he had slid in opposite her, and they clinked.

  “No bother at all. You okay now, Sandy?”

  She nodded. His eyes were so kind. Sometimes she thought that Dermot had the right idea: single, no kids, no mortgage and free as a bird. He lived in the hotel-owned cottage beyond the stables. She remembered talking to Dermot in Hines, just after she got serious with Neil, about how in love with him she was and about marriage. His eyes had clouded over and he had told her she was mad. He had actually walked away on her and left Hines early. Marriage was not for Dermot, she had guessed.

  “Ah, things are just tough, really tough, but I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m just being a bit overly sensitive at the minute.” She reached up and tugged the bobbin from her tight bun and shook her black hair out. It fell perfectly straight and she ran her fingers through her fringe.

  “I’m here anyhow if ya ever need to unload again – and don’t worry – anything you tell me goes no further. Well, I might tell Midnight but that’d be it.”

  She laughed. Midnight was his much-loved black horse. At seventeen hands he was terrifying, Sandra thought.

  “Actually, there’s a thought,” he said. “Why don’t you come up to the yard in the morning for a lesson? You’re always saying you’d like to learn. You’ve been telling me for bloody years that you’d love to have a go. I know you’d love it. There’s nothing like it to clear your head.” He pushed his blond hair from his eyes.

  “Jesus, Dermot, it’s one thing saying it but the thought of getting up on a horse scares the living daylights out of me – besides, I haven’t the time to shave my legs these days let alone horse-ride!”

  “Lovely, thanks for that!” He made a face of disgust. “You seem to have time to swim in the mornings, though, and this is better for yer head. It’s the fresh air you need – you’re pale under that lovely brown skin of yours.” He took a long drink from his pint.

  “How did you know I swim in the mornings? Are you spyin’ on me in my sexy spotty Penney’s cossy?” She was genuinely shocked that he had seen her swim as she had never seen him in there.

  He winked at her. “Some pins on you, I can tell you that much!”

  She laughed out loud. It had been a long time since she had received a compliment and she enjoyed it. “I dunno, Dermot.” She took a long drink from the cold fizzy beer. “What’s it all about? Where do the years
go? What happens to fun and freedom? I used to have fun, I used to laugh. I used to get drunk and dance to cheesy Kylie hits.”

  Dermot leaned in close to her and she could smell the mix of mild aftershave and beer from him. “It’s a life choice, Sandy. Society tells us we will only be happy when we’re married and have kids and a mortgage. It doesn’t say that we have to be married to the right person or there’s no point to it. It just says do it regardless or you will be miserable. It says that single people are lonely and sad and unfulfilled and that’s just not true.”

  She nodded as she looked at him. His eyes sparkled back at her and his floppy blond hair fell over one of his eyes. “You’re right, Dermot, I suppose I always did feel like I had to get married and have kids . . .” She trailed off and picked up her pint. “Aah, just like you said, the marriage bit, paha!” She waved her hand in the air and checked her watch.

  Dermot was nodding. “I can’t say I felt I had to do it when it wasn’t totally right,” he said. “I always knew I was a free spirit. I adore my sister’s two kids but I don’t think family life will be for me. I don’t think . . . I did . . . well, not now anyway . . .”

  “What if you had met someone you just couldn’t live without? What then?” she pushed him.

  “What? Just like when you told me that Friday night in here that you could never live without Neil Darragh?” He stared right at her.

  “Point taken.” She picked up her pint and looked into it, the tiny bubbles racing each other to the top. Just like sperm, she thought.

  Their silence was a comfortable one until Dermot broke it.

  “So, why don’t you come down to the yard in the morning before work? Wear a pair of leggings or jeggings or whatever it is you call them these days and I will sort you out. If you hate it I won’t ask you again. Deal?” He drained his pint and put his glass down with a bang.

  “Okay. Deal,” she said, “but go easy on me now! No ride-’em-cowgirl or any of that danger-devil stuff!”

  Dermot grinned. “I’ll have ya in Jordan’s horsey gear in a few months.”

  Sandra tilted her head to one side, pretended to shift a massive bosom but more in a Les Dawson way and winked at him. They laughed, easy in one another’s company.

  “Can I get you another drink?” a lounge girl asked them.

  “No, thank you,” Sandra told her.

  When Dermot also shook his head, the girl left them alone again.

  Sandra turned to Dermot. “As much as I’d love another drink, I’d better not. The house is in a state and I need to talk to Neil. I can’t run away from my problems either. Thanks though, Dermot, I really needed that pint – and see you in the morning so – giddy-up, shave a bullock and all that jazz!” She drained her drink and stood up. Leaning her hand on his shoulder, she squeezed it hard before she left the snug.

  She pushed open the bar door and made her way into the chilly night. She was glad of the walk. The beer had gone to her head but she supposed she hadn’t eaten any lunch with all the crying. Dermot hadn’t asked her any questions and she was glad. He was just there for her, as always, a true friend. Dermot could have his pick of lots of the single girls in the village, she knew that. Tara who ran the salon adored him and she was sure that something was going on there. She never asked. She wasn’t nosy.

  She waved at Tiffney who was in the doorway of O’Dwyer’s Shop & Post Office buying turf. She passed the loft tea rooms and thought of how she’d love a warm scone and a tea and an OK! magazine for an hour and a natter with The Apple.

  Neil would be in bed again watching DVDs no doubt. She was at a loss as to what to do but thought she’d try and talk to him again this evening, so she upped her pace.

  Be brave, Sandra, she told herself. You need to find out the truth. Whether you like it or not.

  ***

  Sandra knocked on the bedroom door as it was silent inside this time, the much hated surround sound blissfully quiet.

  “Yeah?” came the voice of her husband.

  “Neil? Can I come in?”

  “It’s your room. Why are you asking?”

  She gently pushed down the skinny chrome handle and opened the door.

  She immediately felt like retching. The smell in the room was a dead giveaway of where he had been all day.

  “Jesus, Neil, the smell of drink and aftershave in here!” She put her hand over her mouth and pushed open the window.

  “Close it!” he shouted.

  She flicked on the light. His eyes were glazed and he was pissed. He could barely keep his bloodshot eyes open.

  “What’s going on, Neil? Please, love, talk to me?”

  The bed that they had jumped up and down on the day they moved in was alien to her now. The bed they had spooned in at night and made love in every morning following the move.

  “Neil, I know we’re going through a bad patch. I was thinking maybe we could go and see someone – you know, a professional – maybe they could help us?” She tried to touch him but he moved away.

  “Leave me alone, Bill Cullen!” he sniggered now as he pulled the pillow over his head.

  “What? What does that mean?” she asked, confused.

  “I will talk to you tomorrow, I promise. I’m wrecked now and I really cannot take another second of your nagging.” His muffled voice was barely audible to her.

  “Neil! I need to talk to you! Take the pillow off your face, please?” she shouted.

  “Get out!” he shouted back, throwing the pillow onto the floor and turning his head to face her. “Seriously, you are wrecking my head. I need you to get away from me, please, just leave me alone for a bit, will ya? I need some space!”

  His glazed eyes told her a hundred different things. What had he been up to all day? Who had he been drinking with? She stood her ground.

  “Neil, please, this can’t go on. We have to talk!” she pleaded.

  “Ah, man, will you ever stop talking? Just get out, Bill!” He turned over and put his face into his pillow, roaring laughing now, his body shaking.

  He was too drunk to talk to now. She sat on the edge of the bed and called his name. He wouldn’t answer.

  “Bill Cullen?” She repeated his words aloud. Oh, right – he was trying to say she was ambitious like the self-made millionaire Bill Cullen? Didn’t he understand she was working all the hours God sent for them? For this home?

  “Asshole,” she whispered to herself as she made her way out of the room but not before quickly grabbing his jacket and jeans as she left.

  Chapter 6

  Cara was glad to get into bed with her notes, a cup of tea and the top layer of a box of Milk Tray which she had bought in O’Dwyer’s on the way home. She had seen Tiffney in there buying her turf and Sandra passing by. It really was a small village. It was so pretty and the locals were all so friendly. It was just the type of place she had always wanted to live. It was idyllic. She thanked her lucky stars she had been offered this job. At long last things were starting to turn for her. Esther had been over the moon for her. Proud of her. It was a wonderful feeling.

  Now she wanted to focus on the wedding that was coming up and the big wedding anniversary party next year. She really wanted to impress Jonathan. He’d been so great to her, never once breathing down her neck but just letting her get on with it. He was so calm and relaxed. He had also set her up with her own email address – hospitalitymanager@themoritz.ie – and she was thrilled with it. He had even given her a small laptop and now she was set up in the back office and felt even more official. Next week she was going to order some business cards. Jonathan said she could design them herself and the hotel would pay to print them. Her fabulous briefcase even had a pocket for business cards.

  She popped a hazelnut swirl into her mouth. She’d gone a bit heavy on the Elizabeth Arden 8 Hour Cream and the smell was really overpowering her taste buds. “Hmm, true what they say,” she said aloud. “Smell really is taste. Won’t stop me from eating them all though.” She laughed and caugh
t her reflection in the new bedroom mirror at the end of the bed. She sucked the chocolate hard to reach the hazelnut. She looked at herself in the mirror for a few minutes. Then she nodded at herself and went back to her notes. She was going to do her darned best to get Phyllis’s family back home for this wedding anniversary party. She jotted the numbers Phyllis had given her into her book. They had compiled quite a good list and she was going to call every individual in the coming days to confirm existing addresses before she went shopping with Phyllis for the invitations. The older couple lived in Dublin and had only another four days’ break in the Moritz before they went back, so she had a lot to do. They deserved a fabulous party. What would it be like to be with someone for that long, to share every day and night of your lives for fifty-five years? To be that comfortable with another person? She felt like that around Esther but that wasn’t what she meant. She popped a strawberry chocolate into her mouth without looking, bit into it and put it straight back into the box. That was one good thing about living alone, she mused as she took up another hazelnut swirl – you could spit the strawberry creams back into the box. She was turning into her mother. She laughed quietly to herself now. She had booked in the party in for the end of January so she had some time to play around with. She would look into the fashions in fabrics and furnishings around the date of their wedding. It would be great to see some old photos of their day and try to recreate some of that look. She flicked the heavy quilt away with her foot and wrote some ideas down for the upcoming wedding – she did not have so much time on this one. She liked the idea of crystals and white beading. She wanted the Brophy-Burrows wedding to be a great success.