The Other Side of Wonderful

by Caroline Grace-Cassidy

  Sandra sat back on her chair. Dermot had saved her. She had also put him in a terrible position of lying to Jonathan and she felt awful about that. She knew Dermot would have come clean to Jonathan, no problem, but he was just protecting her. Again.

  The couples seemed pleased enough and gathered up their belongings.

  “And there will be a bottle of champagne on ice at the bar for you when you get back,” Jonathan said to them. “I’m terribly sorry about that mix-up.”

  They were completely won over.

  “Will you be at the wedding later?” the taller girl with the high ponytail plait asked Jonathan. “I want you for a dance.”

  “Watch it, Clare Hinch!” her partner said. “We are still engaged, aren’t we?” He laughed though as they all left in a trail of conversations about fake tans needing to be washed off and a forgotten eye-liner sharpener.

  Jonathan was standing in front of the desk as Cara approached to ask Sandra a question about the wedding car’s arrival. The driver was to call reception when he was leaving the garage.

  “What the heck happened there, Sandra?” Jonathan asked.

  Cara had never heard Jonathan use that tone with anyone before so she hung back.

  “I don’t know.” Sandra rubbed her eyes and her mascara smudged under them both.

  “You took a booking and didn’t tell them the check-in time? On the morning of a wedding?”

  Sandra was just about to admit her mistake when Cara piped up. “That was me, actually, Jonathan. I manned reception for Sandra the other morning when she stood over the photocopier man to make sure he fixed it properly once and for all. Sandra did tell me to tell the guests. I’m terribly sorry. I just forgot.” Sandra opened her mouth and Cara rushed on. “I’m new to it all, you see, Jonathan. It was just a teething problem.” She clasped her hands together prayer-like under her chin. “Forgive me?”

  He looked at Cara for what seemed like a long time, taking in every inch of her face. “Okay, fair enough but, seriously, don’t let a mistake that big happen again. That’s the one way our reputation gets ruined. Something as simple as that.” He patted the desk hard twice with his right palm and then walked away down the corridor to the kitchen.

  “Thank you, Cara,” Sandra said as Cara fished in her pocket for a clean tissue.

  “Your mascara.” Cara nodded at the piece of tissue as she held it towards Sandra.

  “Oh thanks. Seriously, though, I feel really shit letting you take the rap. Why would you do that for me? It’s not as if I’ve gone out of my way to make you feel welcome.”

  Cara laughed. “I’m new, it’s okay. It was Dermot on reception the other morning, wasn’t it?”

  Sandra slowly nodded. “It was a stupid thing to do . . . I just have so much going on . . .”

  The phone rang and she answered it. It was the wedding-car driver telling her he had just left the garage for the hotel.

  “Okay,” Cara said. “I have to get Jenny down the stairs but first I have to clear that bar. I’m not looking forward to this!”

  “It’s not that I didn’t want to get to know you,” Sandra blurted out, “to welcome you here, Cara, it’s just . . . I . . .”

  Cara raised her hand. “Another chat for another day, maybe?”

  Sandra nodded gratefully.

  “Now this bar . . .” Cara said and the two women craned their necks to look into the bar where a chorus of Olé Olé Olé Olé had already started up and full pints of Guinness were still being passed over heads from the bar.

  “This is one thing I can help you with!” Sandra said as she licked the tissue and rubbed hard under her eyes. “Gone?” she asked and Cara nodded.

  The two headed into the crowded bar.

  “Come on now, folks, please – it’s time to leave – the church starts in fifteen minutes,” Cara pleaded.

  The church was a five-minute walk into the village. The rain had long since moved on and the sun was shining. It was cold but bright and beautiful.

  “We’re on our way, girls!” one of the jolly guests threw back, taking a seat by the fire, obviously with no intention of leaving the bar.

  Sandra strode forward. “Folks! Leave now! Come on! Drink up! Get ye to the church on time!” she shouted really loudly.

  Cara burst into giggles. They caught one another’s eye and it was game on.

  “Leave! Get out! Go forth!” Cara said loudly, her and Sandra falling around the place laughing now.

  “Go, go, go!” they yelled in unison, now clapping their hands, and were beside themselves with laughter when Jonathan and Dermot arrived. The two men stood there looking at them, bemused, as the guests filed out one by one.

  ***

  When Jenny had been settled into the car and waved off, the staff took a ten-minute break in the round conference room.

  Old Mrs Reilly had made another pot of coffee and sliced up some of Delphine’s banoffee pie for them all.

  “There’s fresh cream in that stripy blue bowl if anyone wants extra cream. I’m watching my waistline!” she said and patted her ample tummy.

  “Bit late for that!” Big Bob winked at her as he licked the back of his pie-covered spoon.

  Old Mrs Reilly wiggled her hips at him.

  Sandra and Cara arrived in.

  “I haven’t laughed like that in months,” Sandra said, still wiping her eyes.

  “Me neither.” Cara blew her nose as they sat. “God, I enjoyed it though!” She stuffed the tissue up her sleeve. It was badly needed and way overdue!”

  “What was that all about?” Jonathan asked her as he set out the white coffee cups on white saucers.

  “I don’t know really,” Cara said. “We just took a fit of laughing. Sorry.”

  “Looks like you both enjoyed it,” Dermot noted as he spooned sugar after sugar into his coffee and then plopped a large dollop of the whipped cream on his pie.

  Tiffney and Mike walked in and sat together in the corner, taking their coffees and pies with them. Sandra and Cara looked at each other. The two women had hardly spoken in all the time Cara had been at the Moritz but they both sensed now that they had each found a new friend. They just got each other. Kindred spirits. It was crazy. It was as though, just like that, there in that bar, they had known each other all their lives. They had just suddenly and immediately clicked.

  “Sugar?” Dermot asked Sandra.

  “Yes, my sweet,” Sandra answered and Cara spat her coffee all over the table and the two women roared laughing again.

  Chapter 17

  “Oh my God, Cara!” Sandra was flopped over the reception desk half an hour later and beckoning Cara manically with her right hand, fingers dancing to a frantic beat.

  “What?” Cara pulled at the cream bobbins in her hair. They were too tight.

  “You will never guess who just tried to check in?” Sandra was flushed.

  “Who?” Cara was opening her jacket now as the morning’s activities and all that laughing had left her hot. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like that. It was an incredible relief. She was up to her eyes now though and hadn’t the time to chat any more.

  “Jamie Keenan.” Sandra said the two words ever so slowly, releasing them from her mouth like a tortoise from its tracks, before adding, “You know, the famous English tennis player?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Cara said. “Jenny mentioned he’s a friend of Max’s all right. Max is a tennis pro, well, a coach now, a very successful doubles player apparently. What do you mean tried to check in? Didn’t you have a room for him?”

  “No!” Sandra hissed and held her hands up in the air. “Can you believe it? I’m so pissed off. He’s going to drop his bags here and see what happens. They don’t know he’s coming. It’s a surprise.”

  “Ah, what a shame! What can we do for him?” Cara asked, moving away from Sandra toward the dining room.

  “I know what I’d like to do with him!” Sandra laughed and then immediately stopped, her face suddenly pa
le.

  “What is it?” Cara came back towards the other woman.

  Sandra bit her lower lip.

  Cara reached over and laid her hand on Sandra’s. “I’m here if you ever want to talk.”

  “Ah, I’ll tell you later sometime, whenever. If you have the energy. It’s long, it’s depressing and it’s not looking brighter any time soon.” Sandra licked her lips, now horribly dry and in need of some lippy no doubt.

  “Well, I see your tragic story and I raise you mine!” Cara gave Sandra the thumbs-up. “Let’s do it later. I’ll bring the wine to yours.”

  “But I’m on here till very late,” Sandra said.

  Cara nodded. “I will be here until the death as well so we will need a drink and Big J says we can both have a late morning. Oh, and bring tissues!” Cara made two fists with her hands and twirled them in front of her eyes. They both burst out laughing again. “Okay – a little wedding reception to organise, Sandra. Later!”

  Sandra smiled as she reached for the ringing telephone. It was her bank manager.

  “I asked you before not to call me in my place of work!” she hissed down the phone to the unfortunate man. “I will have the mortgage money next week.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs Darragh, but we really need to see you urgently. It’s not about the mortgage repayments – it’s about the transfer of the mortgage to a Mr Tom Darragh.”

  She stood for a moment and let the words sink in. Then she let out a slow breath. “I will be in later this afternoon after I go up to the hospital, Mr Kilroy,” she said and went back to pour herself a large glass of water from the cooler in the back office. She held the plastic cup under the nozzle. She couldn’t pinpoint her feelings right now. She was afraid to think too deeply, but not because she would upset herself more but because she knew she’d uncover her true feelings and she was deeply guilty about this one emotion. Relief. As she stood gulping the cold welcoming water, she remembered.

  ***

  Sandra was dressed in a canary-coloured yellow T-shirt and cut-off denims with her white flip-flops. She stood in the kitchen of her new build, Number 11 Cherry Hill. The papers were signed and sealed and it was now theirs. She couldn’t believe it. They were going to IKEA in Dublin that afternoon to buy lots for it. It was so big. They had some furniture from Neil’s bungalow but somehow it didn’t suit this big house. The bungalow had been bought by a local so they had left a lot of stuff for her. She glanced out the window at the builders working away furiously to finish the rest of the houses. “Going like hot cakes!” the auctioneer had told her as he left. “There’s a waiting list for the others, and them not even built yet.” They were so lucky. She hadn’t mentioned the baby again since all the moving-house stuff was going on around them and neither had Neil. They were repairing their marriage slowly and she didn’t want to rock the boat. She knew deep down he was hoping she had moved on. Forgotten about it. As if. She was going to bring it up this afternoon. He couldn’t say anything about money because she had it saved for the most part herself. It was the same procedure all over again.

  Sandra headed to their master bedroom. They had bounced on the bed last night until they couldn’t breathe. She had worried, but only slightly, that all that bouncing could kill off any good sperms. They had even christened the new house.

  Neil had nuzzled into her ear last night as they made love in the empty curtainless front bedroom on the hard wooden floor – for the pure enjoyment of it! It was the first time in so long that sex hadn’t been purely to procreate. Sandra hadn’t found it all that comfortable to be honest but she wanted to make Neil happy. She wanted the marriage to work.

  She turned on the power shower and stepped out of her clothes. Their life was a routine. Work. Bar. Dinner. Work. Dinner. Bar. She was tired. She had been working full time the last few weeks and, although she was enjoying it, it was a means to an end. As soon as she got pregnant she knew she would give it up. She couldn’t work full time anyway when the baby was born, but she fully intended to go back part time if Jonathan would have her, to help with the bills. She stepped under the shower jets and poured some Coconut shampoo into her hand before washing her hair really well. Sandra was a double hair-washer: she washed it and then washed it again, always had done. Would Neil be freaked out when she asked him if they could try again? She had mentioned it only that one evening on Knocknoly Bridge when they had received the negative result. He hadn’t wanted to discuss it then but she’d understood it was way too soon. What if he said no now though? She scrubbed harder and looked down at her flat tummy. All she wanted to see there was a big growing baby bump. She’d welcome the stretch marks and piles and varicose veins. Was it too much to ask for?

  She should invite her parents around this evening, she thought as she heard Neil come up the stairs – they hadn’t even seen the house yet. She had asked her mother last week but she was in the final of some golf competition and couldn’t make it.

  “Mmmmm . . . someone’s wife all showery and naked in there?” He tipped the glass shower door with his index finger.

  Sandra laughed. “Come in if you want!”

  He didn’t need to be asked twice. He stripped off his work clothes and stepped under the hot jets. “You are so sexy, Sandra!” he gasped as he took her all in.

  “Hmm, I wonder will you think that when I have a huge baby bump?” She opened her mouth to kiss him.

  “What do you mean, a huge baby bump?” His eyes nearly popped out of his head. Oh God, he thought she was pregnant! Naturally.

  “No! No! I’m not pregnant, Neil, I just mean . . . well . . . I want us to try IVF again this month.”

  His eyes clouded over. His mouth pursed closed. A light went out. “No, please, Sandra, not all this baby business again! I thought we agreed?” He slowly dragged his hands down his wet face.

  “No, Neil, we never agreed. I want a baby, Neil. You know that. You have always known that.”

  He put one hand over his private parts and slid the shower door open with the other. “I didn’t always know that, to be honest. I knew it was probably what you wanted but I didn’t know it was the only thing you wanted.”

  “Where are you going?” She pushed the button to turn off the power shower and, dripping all over the floor, walked naked through to the bedroom after him.

  “Sandra, put something on! The curtains are open in this room!” he hissed at her as he pulled on his boxer shorts. He padded to the landing and dragged his jeans off the banisters.

  “Why are you so against trying the IVF again?” she implored him, trying to remain calm. She pulled her robe from the chrome hook behind the bathroom door and slipped it on.

  “It’s not so much the IVF, Sandra, it’s you . . . it . . . it’s what can I do to make you happy? I got you a house I can’t really afford and as soon as we move in you are on to the next thing. Tom warned me you were high maintenance!”

  “Tom? He doesn’t even know me and I assure you, Neil Darragh, I am so not high maintenance!”

  “Forget IKEA, I can’t be arsed now, I have a lot on so I’m out of here. You know, Sandra, if you ever bothered to ask, work is drying up. I am pricing every job going out there but I am losing it all. No one is employing me, Sandra. So I’m fucking shitting it that the construction industry is going belly-up after us buying this mansion I can’t afford!” He pulled on his jeans.

  “Neil, please sit down for a few minutes. We need to thrash this out. You have me all wrong – a baby isn’t all I want, I want us too.”

  He poked his head through his grey T-shirt and ignored her as he left the room. He ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  “Shit!” she shouted to the empty bedroom. She couldn’t do it without him. If she could, she would.

  He slammed the front door hard behind him.

  ***

  They sat among other hopeful couples in the clinic again five weeks later and Neil was handed the cup to do his thing.

  “This is the last time,” he g
rowled at her as he left to make his way, shoulders hunched, down the grey carpeted corridor.

  The last few weeks had been awful. Neil was pissed off with her and barely speaking to her. She knew in her heart he wanted her to cancel the IVF, she knew he didn’t want to do it but she just couldn’t stop. He was never in any more and she never asked him where he was.

  As soon as she became pregnant it would all change. It would all be better, back to normal. She had to be cruel to be kind. She watched him follow the nurse and she prayed a silent prayer it would work for them this time.

  Neil’s electrical business had slowed dramatically in a matter of weeks and she knew he was really worried about their finances. He had been in foul moods and nothing she did was shaking him out of it. She had kept her head down and gone to work and come home, made his dinner which most nights he just pushed around his plate before telling her that he was going out.

  When he returned from wherever he’d been he went straight upstairs to watch DVDs in their bedroom, shutting the door behind him. The house was still as though they had moved in yesterday. There was a huge snag list to be attended to but they were having problems pinning the builder down. He had been off site for a week now and Sandra was losing patience. Their bedroom was the only one furnished and the rest of the rooms remained bare. That IKEA trip had never happened and although Sandra saw some great pieces online the funds were not there, Neil had told her. “Don’t buy a thing until I say it’s okay,” he said. “Now I have to let the lads go too.”

  She had managed to save quite a lot and it was all going on the IVF. Her mother had not offered her any funds towards it which she was fine about even though she knew her parents had money to burn.

  A nurse approached Sandra. “Now, as soon as Neil is back we will take you through,” the nurse told her. A different nurse this time. A different baby.