She boiled the kettle and took a green-tea bag down from the clear glass jar and popped it into a mug. She really had to remember to buy regular tea bags. Her mother always bought the tea bags at home so she never remembered them. She grabbed the phone from the wall and punched in Esther’s number.
“Hi, Mam!” she called as she poured water on the lonely tea bag.
“Morning, love, I’m just brushing Victoria. She’s a little baby, not a bother on her!” Esther was chewing.
“Mam, will you leave off the éclairs! It’s too early! I know I keep saying it but really and truly you won’t have a tooth left in your head!”
Esther was silent and Cara knew she had her hand over the mouthpiece and was chewing furiously.
“So what time are you coming over tonight?” Esther asked eventually.
“Actually, Mam, I can’t come this evening after all. I know I told you I would as Alex is away but I’m working today and back in on an early shift tomorrow morning so easier if I just head back to Sandymount.”
There was a brief pause but no chewing. “Sure, love, that’s fine. When will I see you so?”
Cara could hear the disappointment in Esther’s voice, though she tried to hide it, and she listened to Victoria’s snuffly breath. She pinched the bridge of her nose. This was crazy. “Ah, actually, listen, Mam, I will come after work and stay the night. Will you make some dinner or will I bring two of Mary’s Chicken Kievs?”
“No, love, I’m more than happy to cook if you’re sure you wanta come over? There’s no pressure, you know, I’m grand here.”
“I’m sure, Mam.” Cara closed her eyes.
“Lovely so. Okay, I want to take Victoria for a walk now and I’ll pop into the supermarket for us. It’s bloody ridiculous though, Mrs Canavan who had the poodles told me that I have to tie her up outside while I shop. Sure what harm can she do in a supermarket on a bloody lead? It will break my heart to leave her outside in the cold. Only God knows what she’s been through and she’ll probably fear every time I go into the shops that I’m not coming back. There should be supermarkets for dogs!”
“She’ll be fine, Mam, or maybe she’d feel more secure if you just left her at home when you go shopping?”
“That’s true.”
“Mam, make sure you have tea bags in – I’m gasping for a proper cup of Barry’s tea!” Cara smiled as she crinkled her nose at the smell of the green tea.
She hung up and went into the bathroom to apply her make-up. As she put on her mascara she suddenly felt a little nervous. Would Alex be mad with her? He did say she should promise him she wouldn’t go back to Esther’s.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Cara!” she chastised her reflection. “He won’t mind, why would he?”
Okay, so she understood his point. They were newly in love and newly living together, but she still felt it was all a bit of a dream. Alex had taken on the majority of the rent, insisting she pay only what she could. It was an expensive property even in this current rental climate. Alex had even suggested they look into buying the place but Cara had said a firm no. Not yet.
She sat on the toilet now as she tied the laces on her runners. Alex hated her runners. She smiled. She really wasn’t his type at all. They were like chalk and cheese. She stopped smiling all of a sudden and she didn’t know why. She was so very out of sorts. Maeve had asked her yesterday as she sat in the steamy kitchen of The Law Top tucking into a Shepherd’s Pie if she was okay.
“You don’t seem your usual bubbly self, missy!” the other woman had said as she tested her carrot and coriander soup from a huge black ladle, made a face and then added more sea salt.
“No, I’m good, Maeve, just a bit tired.”
Maeve had made a guttural noise. “There isn’t a fire burning under yer arse, Cara. Take your time, don’t rush into anything,” she said before moving on to chop the living daylights out of a turnip.
Here was the thing, Cara thought. Alex never spoke about himself, apart from that awful story about his father’s infidelity. She still hadn’t met any of his family. She was concerned about this at this stage. She had tried to bring up the possibility of her meeting his parents a few weeks before.
“They are getting divorced,” he said. “It’s really not a good time for them, Cara. Try not to be so selfish.”
That stung. It was nothing to do with being selfish. “Well, okay, maybe I could meet them individually then?”
“I don’t speak to my father.” He stared at her. “And I just told you it’s not a good time for my mother. The last thing I want to do is push a happy relationship in her face. Think about it? Can we drop it now, Cara, please?”
Deep down Cara knew this wasn’t good. She stood again now and jogged on the spot. She always did this to test the tightness of her laces. She flicked off the light in the bathroom and then flicked it back on. At the very top of the boiler in the bathroom she had noticed a small black box. She had never seen it there before but she had noticed it during the move. Alex had laughed and called it his “box of tricks”. Right this second she was really curious about what Alex had in there. It must be something to do with past relationships – otherwise why hide it in the bathroom? It was way too high for Cara to reach – she doubted if she could reach it even standing on a chair with a few books or whatever on top. Now that she thought about it Esther had a small stepladder. She would borrow it tonight and take a look at that box tomorrow. She needed to know more about Alex but for whatever reason she couldn’t bear to upset him by asking him again. He was so good to her. She just needed to get to know him better, she needed to know more about his life before her. She locked the door behind her and headed for a busy day at The Law Top.
***
“Ah, listen, it’s very sad, I’m not saying it isn’t, Aoife,” Steve was saying to Aoife as Cara pushed open the bar door. The smell of bleach was overpowering, as always at this time of the day. The two were stacking the mixers into the bottom fridges. “What’s very sad?” she asked as she joined them behind the bar.
“Ah, yer man Seán Hackett. Overdosed in prison last night.”
Cara’s hand flew to her mouth. “Ah no, is he dead?” she managed.
“Dead as a doornail,” Steve flicked his white teacloth at a fly as he stood up.
Cara was sickened. What a tragic life Seán had! She would go to his funeral. “Poor Seán, he never stood a chance,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.
“What are you on about, Cara?” Steve said. “He was a thieving druggie bastard for God’s sake! Let’s not make him into some poor martyr now he’s popped his clogs, please. I took you for being smarter than that!”
“You didn’t know him, Steve.” She bent her head and tried to walk past him.
“Neither did you. You really are gullible, aren’t you, Cara? Seán Hackett would have robbed the eye out of your head given half a chance.”
She turned on Steve now. “No, he wouldn’t, Steve, you’ve got that all wrong. He was my friend.”
“Ha!” Steve shook his head wildly. “Your friend? Get off the crack,will you? You are too trusting, that’s your fault, your biggest fault! Be careful of it, Cara – it could be the ruination of you!”
She was angry now. “What’s that supposed to mean? Leave it out! I am entitled to my opinion and you can’t push yours on me. You didn’t like him, fine, you didn’t trust him, fine. I did. I liked him as a person, I took the trouble to get to know him a little bit. In fact I’d have trusted him with my life!”
“Well, more fool you because you’d be stone dead!” he said and walked away into the kitchen.
She pulled her apron out from under the bar and turned to Aoife, catching her breath. “So, busy morning?” She composed herself now.
“Ah, ticking over – there’s a big rape trial on in the court today so I’d say we’ll be packed.”
No sooner had Aoife spoken the last word when the door opened and a bunch of customers piled in. It was obviously a very
serious trial by the look on the faces of all of them. She hated these days when the bar was wracked with tension as members of each side sat as far away from each other as possible. They spoke in hushed tones. Violence was always a threat.
Cara grabbed her notebook and slid her biro into her messy hair-knot. She dropped clean beer mats on all the tables and checked the salt and pepper sets were full before finally checking to see who looked ready to order. As it was usually a one-hour break the pressure was on.
She approached a corner table, where three men and one older woman were sitting. They were whispering urgently, so obviously were part of the trial.
“Are you ready to order?” Cara asked quietly.
The woman spoke. “Wot is zee soupe of ze daz?” Her French accent was hard to understand.
“Soup?” Cara checked.
“Oui – soupe?”
“It’s carrot and coriander,” Cara answered.
“That okay with you all?” one of the men asked – he was obviously Irish – and the other three nodded. “Four soups so with some brown bread, please, love.”
The woman looked up at Cara again and then back to the three men sitting around her. She looked sad.
Cara wriggled through the crowd. Steve was back in behind the bar and their eyes met. “Sorry,” he mouthed at her.
“It’s okay,” she mouthed back. Who knew which one of them was right? But Cara always saw the good in people. It was a legacy her father had left her and she meant to honour it. “Docket down, Chef!” She rang the bell with the palm of her hand and they were off.
Chapter 14
Sandra crawled out of the bed at eight o’clock, padded naked out to the landing and flicked down the buttons for a shower. She found her bag on the floor by the bed and fished out her phone. She dialled the hospital. Neil had had a peaceful night, had woken for water and painkillers and had gone back to sleep. The nurse said she could come in at any time so she told her to tell Neil she would be there at lunchtime. She pulled on her white fluffy robe and went downstairs.
The house was bitter cold and she shook as she poured the dregs of the semi-skimmed milk on her Crunchy Nut Cornflakes. Not the real deal, but who could tell? She stood eating as she gazed out the window. How she hated this house! But they were stuck in it. Stuck paying over the odds for it. What would happen to them? There would never be any more money for another round of IVF, she knew that. She threw the bowl into the sink and turned on the tap to wash it. She couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t believe that it was all over. That she would never have her baby. A tear dropped onto her cheek. She wiped it away guiltily as she hadn’t really shed a tear over her marriage. Funny how the tears just came now without her really ever getting worked up. It was like they dropped onto her cheek to let her know they understood. They were supporting her sorrow but in an understated controlled way.
She ran back up the stairs and hopped into the shower before dressing quickly and fixing her hair. Downstairs again, she pulled on her green Oasis coat and slammed the damned front door behind her.
As she approached Louise’s Loft on her way to the hotel she upped the pace – she wasn’t in the mood for talking to anyone today. As she passed the Loft she saw faces staring out at her so she lowered her head and hurried on. Sandra hated gossipers.
She slipped in through the fire escape at the back of the Moritz and walked briskly through the kitchens to reception. There was Dermot. He had put on a tight black shirt with his jeans and black shoes for the morning and Sandra barely recognised him.
“I could get used to this work. Easy.” He pretended to type with his long fingers against the edge of the reception desk. “How is he this morning?”
As she slipped in behind the desk the phone rang. “Hang on,” she said to Dermot, putting her finger to her lip. “Good morning. The Moritz Hotel. Sandra speaking. How may I help you?” She sat and pulled her office seat in under her. “Oh hi, Jonathan!”
She pointed frantically to the phone and Dermot pulled pen and a hotel notepad from the drawer and wrote quickly. He pushed the note in front of her. It said: “He hasn’t called this morning.”She let out a slow breath.
“No, everything is fine – well, actually, Jonathan, I have two calls on hold. Could I call you back in a few minutes?” She hung up. “Okay, that was close. He’d have a fit, wouldn’t he, if he thought you had manned reception for me?”
Dermot just laughed and shrugged his huge shoulders. “I doubt if a fit is the correct word,” he said.
She made a face. “I know he is your friend but still he’s my boss and he’s uber-paranoid about this wedding. I better get back to it.” She started to read through the list of messages Dermot had taken.
He was looking at her strangely now. “Yeah, J’s one of my dearest friends, Sandra, and yep he runs this ship like clockwork but you –”
“Most of these messages are for Cara – is she in?” she said, ignoring his comment.
“Cara is indeed in – she actually offered to do reception for you. I didn’t tell her why you weren’t in but I should warn you, Sandy, the whole village knows about Neil.” He looked away now too quickly. “I mean . . . I mean . . . not about . . . well, about Neil’s accident . . .”
She had known that. It was the reason she’d flown past Louise’s window – she’d seen the customers stare out at her. There was no way a small village like Knocknoly wouldn’t be eating into that kind of gossip like a fresh gooey-in-the-middle chocolate cake. Anything drama-related and it was a fun day out. But it was the gossip they really knew that was bugging her the most. The gossip that Dermot had just tripped himself over. She tugged at her fringe. It wasn’t fair to involve Dermot – gossip certainly wasn’t his thing.
“I’m going up to see him at lunch if that offer of a lift still stands?”
“Sure. I’ll drop back for you then,” Dermot said. “Must go tend to my horses.”
“See you then.”
Sandra caught up on the messages and only then remembered to call Jonathan. He sounded dog tired and rather tense. After a brief exchange with him about a few matters. Sandra turned back to her computer.
“Hello.”
Sandra looked up to see a couple standing at the desk.
“Hi, welcome to the Moritz,” she said, greeting them with a big smile. “Have you a made a reservation booking?”
“Yes, Mr and Mrs Crowley and Baby Rose,” the woman said and bent down to pick the baby up from her snugly Maxi-Cosi.
Sandra stared at the baby. “She’s so . . .” she paused, “she’s so perfect.” She reached over the desk and took Rose’s tiny pudgy hand in her larger one.
“Thanks,” said the woman rather snappily. “Well, you can have her! She’s hard work, she doesn’t sleep at all and we are totally wrecked. That’s why we are away – thought we could get a sitter and try and have a quiet dinner together for once. No one warns you about the tiredness – she just never shuts up and we are just totally exhausted all the time – she’s such a hard baby.”
Sandra rubbed the soft perfect pink skin. “So soft, so perfect,” she whispered and the Crowleys stared at her. “Sorry,” she said hastily. “But you have something so precious, you should be over the moon.” She stopped herself just as the printer whirred into action and printed the booking form.
Mrs Crowley stared at her then signed the form. Tucking her long brown hair behind her ears she said, “I’m guessing you don’t have children so you wouldn’t understand.” She pushed the completed form across the reception desk.
Sandra swallowed hard and forced a smile on her face.
“Will I book you a baby-sitter for Rose tonight then? We have quite a few on our list from teenagers to older mammies – it’s whatever you’d prefer yourselves?”
“We’ll get back to you later, thanks,” Mr Crowley said, giving her a funny look. He took the key cards as Sandra pointed out the lift and they left.
She shook her head. “Oh Sandra, that was ver
y unprofessional,” she said under her breath.
The rest of the morning flew by with bookings for the Brophy-Burrows wedding and the hotel was buzzing.
Jonathan returned just before lunch as Sandra was getting ready to go and see Neil. He came through to the back office as Alice the relief sat down at the desk.
“I heard about Neil, what the heck happened?” He sat on the swivel chair, leaning forwards so his hands hung loose between his legs. He did look exhausted.
“One of the kids from the Bracken’s Road decided to take a driving lesson in her dad’s car, without her dad!” She applied some Coconut Vaseline to her dry lips and then put it back in her handbag.
“Yikes, is he okay?” he asked softly.
“Yeah, I think so. It only happened last night and he hasn’t been awake much. I’m going down now. Broken wrist, bruised ribs and his face is cut but I’m sure he’ll live.” She didn’t quite know why but suddenly she couldn’t make eye contact with her boss. Embarrassment perhaps.
“Don’t come back,” he said. “Take the day off. I’ll ask Alice to stay. Just leave a detailed list of the wedding reservations for her.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Yes, certainly. I’m really sorry, Sandra. If there’s anything I can do?”
She smiled at him as Dermot approached, the yard keys dangling between his fingers, and they left.
***
Jonathan sat in the chair for a few minutes as Alice settled herself into reception. Sandra had always been such a lively happy girl. Now she was a shadow of her former self. It saddened him deeply. He had heard the latest rumours around the village about Neil Darragh. He wasn’t one for rumours. If he paid too much attention to the biggest rumour they would all be in trouble. The rumour that was haunting him. That the Moritz was going up for auction. The conference had been cancelled so a decision must already have been made. He had a meeting to attend with the board and he was dreading the outcome.
The Other Side of Wonderful Page 16