Mother of the Bride

by Marita Conlon-McKenna

  No, this weekend she was determined there would be no talk of Amy and Dan or her mother, or worries about Ciara going off to Thailand with her weird friends, or about how Ronan and Krista were ever going to afford to buy somewhere instead of renting. This weekend was going to be theirs, not their children’s!

  ‘There’re the swans,’ nodded Paddy. ‘That pair are here every year, always together.’

  They watched the swan pair gliding on the small lake, ignoring the other waterfowl as they dabbled in the water with their long white necks, regal heads and sad dark eyes.

  Helen felt Paddy squeeze her hand.

  ‘They mate for life,’ she said. She’d read it in some magazine and been struck by the beauty of it, and by the thought of how awful it was when one of a pair was killed or mistreated by cruel young hoodlums.

  ‘They’re good and safe here, it’s so quiet,’ said Paddy, almost reading her mind.

  They continued to walk along by the lake, then turned back across the bottom of the meadow in the direction of the kitchen garden with its rows of early vegetables and herbs.

  ‘Look at the size of those cabbages!’ admired Paddy. ‘And not a drop of those chemical fertilizers on them, all organic.’

  Helen could see row after row of rich green cabbage and curly kale and spring onions. The garden here provided a range of home-grown produce for the kitchens, everything fresh. The herb garden was a special joy, with it enticing range of parsley, rosemary, sage, chives and other culinary seasonings.

  They trooped back up towards the house, both ready for the Glebe speciality of afternoon tea. The large drawing room hadn’t changed, with its fading floral print-covered chairs and old mahogany coffee tables, and they passed through it and out to the Victorian-style conservatory with its white wicker tables and chairs overlooking the side lawn and rose garden.

  After a plateful of home-baked scones served with a delicious plum jam, and a selection of baby éclairs and home-made macaroons served with a reviving cup of tea, they both felt their cares slip away.

  ‘Well, it’s lovely to see the two of you back again,’ beamed Eve Hanlon, welcoming them warmly. With her immaculately cut short hair framing her pretty face, and her petite figure clad in the usual black jeans, black shirt and cashmere cardigan, she was a stylish woman. She had created the unique ambience of the old house with her impeccable taste and sense of style.

  ‘And it’s good to be back,’ beamed Paddy, unable to resist the charms of another miniature éclair.

  ‘Eve, our bedroom is gorgeous,’ praised Helen. ‘Have you redone them all?’

  ‘Yes. We started with the bedrooms,’ Eve said, sitting down to join them. ‘Trudy and Sean persuaded me that the place was getting a bit too faded and we needed to give it a lift in style. We’ve been working on the refurbishment, and have had the decorators in since we closed up in late November. They’ve done a great job. Wait until you see the dining room tonight – it’s certainly got a new lease of life! By May it will all be finished: this place and the sitting room are next. You’ve got to keep up a bit with the times even in an old place like this, people expect it.’

  Helen was filled with admiration for Eve, who had taken over the running of Glebe following her husband Peter’s death almost twenty years earlier, and had turned the old house into a country retreat providing classic good food and wonderful accommodation for those looking for a few days’ break. Year after year the same couples and families returned to the place, glad of Eve’s guaranteed welcome.

  ‘Listen, I’d better go,’ said Eve, getting a message on her phone. ‘I’ll see you two later on tonight. Sean’s got a lovely roast shoulder of lamb on the menu.’

  ‘My favourite,’ said Paddy happily.

  Helen looked out over the garden. A few early roses were beginning to open, the tulips creating a great display. She took a bite of a melt-in-the mouth macaroon. This was bliss, and she was so glad she had persuaded Paddy to come away to unwind.

  The dinner was perfect; they ordered different dishes for each course and tried each other’s. Prawns and duck were followed by monkfish and lamb and a mixture of puddings from the mouth-watering dessert trolley. Two glasses of Chablis and a bottle of Bordeaux helped to complement the food. Afterwards they sat in the small bar with its cosy fireplace till after midnight, sipping port before heading off to bed.

  The huge Irish breakfast the next morning included pancakes, and Helen laughed to see Paddy layering them on to his plate with maple syrup. She loved the home-made muesli that Eve served, and the two of them agreed that a massive walk was called for if they wanted to work up an appetite for lunch. They decided to head down towards the beach, which was about two miles away.

  No longer kids, they both huffed and puffed as they slowly climbed up the tall sand dunes before rushing down on to the golden sand. In summer this place would be crowded with holidaymakers and swimmers, but today it was quiet except for one or two other couples and a few people walking their dogs.

  The beach held so many memories for both of them, and they walked along the strand hand in hand. The tide was out and they watched as a wizened old man swam in the choppy water.

  ‘He’s a brave soul,’ declared Paddy.

  ‘I remember when you used to swim all the time,’ Helen reminded him. ‘Summer or winter, you’d be down in Seapoint or Sandycove or Brittas Bay when we were on holidays.’

  ‘That was a long time ago,’ he laughed. ‘I’ve got sense now.’

  ‘The children used to think that you were like the Man from Atlantis,’ she teased. ‘You were always in the water and were such a strong swimmer.’

  ‘I remember Amy and Ronan trying to swim out to me from the beach here one time when they were small. Ciara wanted to come, too, but she was only a baby, and she bawled and bawled and yelled “DA DA”, and you had to walk out into the water with her in your arms.’

  ‘We got them ice cream and lemonade afterwards from the Mr Whippy van that used to park beside the dunes, and I remember I fell asleep in the sun and got sunburn on the back of my legs. Oh, the pain of it!’

  ‘They were the good times!’

  ‘We hadn’t a minute with three of them. I always seemed to be changing nappies and washing faces and wiping noses, and spent my life making dinners and trying to get clothes dry.’

  ‘It seemed a lot of work, but it was a lot less complicated then. They were such good kids! Great fun!’

  ‘They still are,’ she reminded him gently. ‘It’s just that they’ve grown up.’

  ‘Hate that!’ he grimaced. ‘It makes me feel old and useless and crotchety like my father!’

  ‘You are not a bit like Seamus! Besides you’re only sixty-one, so a bit less of the old man!’ she teased.

  ‘Some days I feel old and tired,’ he admitted. ‘Over the hill. Isn’t that what they call it?’

  ‘Paddy O’Connor, don’t you dare say that you are over the hill, because what does that make me?’

  ‘Twenty-one for ever,’ he shouted, swooping her up in his arms and swinging her wildly around. ‘Twenty-one in my eyes, like when we first met.’

  She touched his handsome face, his dark hair now grey, wrinkles around his eyes.

  ‘I love you,’ she said, kissing him.

  ‘And I love you, too.’

  The weekend passed far too quickly, with the afternoon spent reading the papers and the evening enjoying another fine meal. As they packed up the next day and left their bedroom with its view of the lake they decided to come back to Glebe House before the summer’s end.

  Refreshed and re-energized, down at the desk in the hall they both thanked Eve for her wonderful hospitality and promised to return.

  ‘I want to see your roses in full bloom,’ Helen said, taking a last glance around.

  ‘And I’ll be back for more of those breakfast pancakes,’ Paddy joked, taking their bags out to the car.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Amy’s hopes had risen like a k
ite in the sky when Daniel phoned her when she was in the middle of Supervalu getting a few groceries.

  ‘We need to talk,’ he said, keeping the conversation brief. ‘Do you want to meet in McSorley’s tomorrow after work at about seven?’

  She had hoped that he would suggest meeting at the apartment, where they would be back on familiar territory, and was surprised that he had opted instead for the local pub in Ranelagh.

  ‘Great,’ she said, unable to keep the hope and excitement from her own voice despite his rather distant tone.

  She blow-dried her hair and sprayed herself with Dan’s favourite perfume. Pulling on her pale denim jeans she noticed that she had dropped a few kilos, not just from the stress and upset but because, despite the wedding being called off, Jess had still insisted on sticking to her new healthy eating regime, and wouldn’t let a square of chocolate or a packet of biscuits or cheese and onion crisps past the hall door. No comfort eating allowed! The salads and fruit and crunchy nibbles in the fridge were working for them both, Amy thought, as she slipped into the pink chiffon top with the tie front that Daniel loved to play with, and her grey suede ankle boots. She had worked all through lunch and finished up at 5 p.m. so that she could chase to Jess’s place and get ready to see Dan again.

  It was two weeks since they had seen each other, and she was dying to look at him and touch him. There was so much she wanted to say.

  ‘Amy, please don’t go building it up in your mind too much!’ warned Jess. ‘Daniel’s hardly bothered to contact you. He might just want to sort out stuff about the apartment and things.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s more to it than that,’ Amy laughed. ‘Honestly, Jess, you are such a pessimist!’

  ‘Please, Amy, take it easy,’ warned Jess, before disappearing to her weekly yoga class.

  Dan was already sitting in the back section of McSorley’s, nursing a Guinness, something he rarely drank. When he did he usually only took one or two pints.

  ‘Hi,’ she smiled, resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss him or touch his hair.

  ‘What will you have?’ he asked, jumping up to go to the bar.

  ‘A glass of white would be great.’ Daniel knew the kind of wines she liked and hated and he returned a few seconds later with a wine glass and a small bottle of her favourite.

  ‘How have you been?’ she asked.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Great.’ She took a sip of wine and tried to control the hysteria she felt bubbling inside her.

  ‘I’m sorry about what has happened, Amy, really sorry, but I just couldn’t go through with the wedding the way things were between us. It would have been like a big lie, pretending everything was OK when clearly it wasn’t! We were taking such a big step and it was clear that we weren’t ready for it . . . Well, I wasn’t ready for it.’

  ‘I see,’ she said, trying to focus on the French label of her wine bottle as the words swam in front of her eyes.

  ‘What have you been up to?’

  ‘Well, obviously I’ve been kind of busy getting in touch with everyone to cancel all the wedding arrangements.’ She made no attempt to hide her sarcasm.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he apologized, embarrassed. ‘But is that all done?’

  ‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘Everything is done. Mum has been great. You’ve no idea how embarrassing it was phoning everyone and trying to explain. But all the arrangements we had made are totally sorted and wiped away. We returned some of the wedding gifts that had arrived early. And you’ll be glad to know that another couple were delighted to get our date to get married in Castle Gregory!’

  ‘I see.’

  She looked at his face. He was pale, with a few zits around his chin. His polo shirt hadn’t been ironed, just folded over, Daniel-style, and flung on.

  ‘Let’s hope it is a luckier day for them than for us!’ she said bleakly.

  ‘I really am sorry, Amy. I can only imagine how hard it has been for you.’

  ‘Pretty shit!’ she said bitterly. ‘But as they say, shit happens!’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Stop it!’ she found herself saying loudly. ‘I’m fed up of you saying sorry when you are the one that ruined everything.’

  ‘Amy, I still love and care for you,’ he said, staring at her. ‘That hasn’t changed!’

  ‘Then what is all this about, Dan? What in God’s name is this all about? Please just tell me! Give me some explanation for the shit that has happened.’

  ‘Amy, I still want a relationship with you but one that is about us, and the things that are important to us. We got caught up in some kind of wedding frenzy. We both let it get out of hand. Maybe we were rushing things too quickly, and lost track of what is important to both of us. The only explanation I have is that we changed – we both did,’ he said sadly. ‘I didn’t like what we were becoming. It was as if we were the least part of the wedding! It was meant to be about us loving each other but it became this big show! I didn’t want to be part of it any more. I felt you didn’t want me . . . didn’t need me . . .’

  ‘But I did,’ she whispered. ‘I do . . . And you were the one who proposed,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I know. I know.’

  Pensive, they both sat silent, staring at the table.

  ‘Do you want to move back in?’ he said, the tips of his fingers touching hers; so intimate and yet so distant. ‘See how things go between us?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Amy, I miss you. I want you to come back, and for things to be the way they were before!’

  She held her breath. They were the words she had been waiting every day for the past few weeks for him to say. But he wasn’t saying what she expected, hoped for! He wasn’t saying that he was heartbroken without her, loved her madly and passionately and couldn’t live without her in his life. She could tell that Dan just wanted things to go back to the way they were pre-engagement: easygoing and relaxed, having fun together, hanging out, just being a couple again and slipping back into the comfortable routine they had enjoyed for the past two years.

  But everything had changed in the past few weeks, everything. Couldn’t he see that? Nothing was the same. She certainly wasn’t the same. He had broken her heart, turned her world upside down.

  ‘Daniel, I’m not ready to move back yet,’ she found herself saying. ‘I need more time to think about things, to think about us and what we should do.’

  She could see the disbelief register in his eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dan.’ She regretted the utter stupidity that had driven them apart, but knew that moving back in together and pretending everything was back the way it was before would be a big mistake. ‘I’m staying with Jess at the moment, and she says that I can stay on there for a while longer if I need to. She’s been great. Everyone’s been great: Mum and Dad, Ciara and Ronan – even Norah in the office and Jackie and the crowd there.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘But I do need to take some things from the apartment if that’s OK with you, so maybe we can organize that.’

  ‘We can go over there now if you want,’ he said, brightening up, hoping that proximity and familiarity would help her to change her mind.

  ‘No,’ she said, determined not to weaken her resolve. ‘It’s better if I go on my own. Are you still playing football tomorrow evening with Liam and the lads?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he nodded.

  ‘Right. I’ll go over to collect some stuff then.’

  ‘Listen, will you have another wine?’ he asked.

  She had already gone through two glasses. She didn’t need a third, didn’t want alcohol to fuzz her thinking. She was tempted, but didn’t want to stay.

  ‘No, I’m fine, thanks,’ she lied. ‘I’ve a big presentation tomorrow. So I’d better go.’

  ‘Christ, Amy, what have I done to us?’ he said, looking forlorn as she stood up to go. ‘What have I done?’

  Not trusting herself to speak, she managed to compose herself enough to get out of th
e bar and, turning left, began to walk along the familiar road towards the canal.

  She had no intention of being over-dramatic and chucking herself in the water, but knew that a long fast walk along the deserted canal bank where she could scream at the seagulls and swans and the water would do her good!

  ‘Feck him!’

  ‘Feck you, Daniel Quinn, for ruining my life!’

  She yelled and shouted as loud and as hard as she could, letting the dark muddy water claim her words.

  Chapter Forty

  ‘I can’t believe it, Amy!’ Jess was incredulous when she returned from yoga in the parish hall to discover that Amy had been asked, but yet refused, to move back in with Daniel.

  ‘Do you think that I’ve gone mad?’ Amy asked, in a quivering, small voice. ‘I don’t know what possessed me, but I just knew that I couldn’t move back the way things are now, with Daniel thinking everything is OK again, when it isn’t.’

  ‘I can’t believe that you didn’t cave in,’ Jess said, seeing a side to Amy she had never known existed.

  ‘I was tempted. I really was . . . I love Daniel, you know I do, but I’m not sure that he loves me enough,’ Amy said in a small voice. ‘I couldn’t bear that. Imagine how bad it would be if I went back and it didn’t work out. Jess, I’m not sure that I could take it.’

  Jess knew just how fragile Amy really was, but yet some kind of miracle had happened and she had managed to retain her composure around Daniel, and to think clearly.

  ‘I’m so proud of you,’ Jess said, giving Amy a big hug.

  ‘Do you have any wine?’ Amy asked. ‘I think I need a drink.’

  ‘Sure, there’s a Prosecco in the fridge and a Shiraz in the press.’

  ‘Prosecco, please.’

  They stayed up late talking, wrapped in the big brown rug. Finishing the Prosecco, they opened the Shiraz as Jess drunkenly demonstrated to Amy the two new yoga positions she had learned: the Cobra and the Bull Frog.