Feels Like Maybe

by Claire Allan

  “Go on and make a girls’ weekend of it,” he would say, and I would smile.

  “There’s a ceasefire, you know,” Aoife would tease and of course Dan would try to assure us that fears of the Troubles had nothing to do with it – but we knew.

  This time, however, he would need to come up with a pretty spectacular excuse not to go and be godfather for Maggie.

  “Okay,” he said hesitantly, sitting up and looking at me. “If I can get away from work.”

  “Dan Jones, you have been working your socks off without leave for months now. Of course you can get off work. For one thing, it’s over a weekend.”

  “I’ll see,” he said and lay back down.

  “You’ll love it, Dan. The scenery is gorgeous. The bars are top notch. They feed you enough in one sitting to keep you going for a month and the craic is always good.”

  He smiled. “I do enjoy the craic, begorrah,” he said in a fake Northern Irish accent.

  “If Aoife hears you talking like that she’ll kill you,” I laughed, throwing a pillow at his face.

  “Go easy, Beth. What kind of impression will I make in chapel with a black eye?”

  

  Chapter 50

  Aoife

  “How is the carrot cake? I would kill for some.” I typed in the words and pressed Send on my mobile.

  It was a fairly innocuous text but it meant a lot to me to send it. It felt weird to send messages to Tom Austin even if they were only about the moistness of Mrs Morelli’s carrot cake.

  I was sitting in my mother’s living-room while Maggie played in her baby gym. Daddy had gone to pick my mother up from the hospital and now seemed as good a time as any to send a few messages to Tom. I couldn’t really deny it. I missed him. It was strange really, because I didn’t actually know him all that well but there were times over the last week when I needed to talk to him and have him make me laugh. Anna was lovely, but she was starting to live her own life again now after years of loneliness and it wasn’t fair of me to make demands on her to stay in and keep me company.

  And even if she were there all the time, I knew I would still miss Tom. It was hard to explain, he just listened to me in a different way to Anna. Even though he didn’t know me all that well, sometimes I felt he knew me more than most people did.

  “Should I post you some over?” came the reply.

  “Oooh. Good thinking, Eejit Man. Beth is coming over at the end of the week for Maggie’s christening. Could you send some over with her?”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged,” he texted, with two x’s on the end for kisses.

  That made me blush. I smiled to Maggie. “That Tom is a nice man, yes, he is,” I cooed and she kicked her legs and chomped on her fists in what I liked to think of as a sign of approval.

  “Can you make it an extra big bit?” I texted.

  “What exactly are you referring to? ;)” he replied and I blushed.

  He was flirting with me. Surely that was a flirtatious text.

  “Carrot cake, of course” I texted back, but added a wink.

  I lifted the phone and speed-dialled Instant Karma where Beth answered.

  “Tom Austin is flirting with me,” I said excitedly.

  “Are you always going to refer to him as Tom Austin? Surely just Tom would work.”

  “Sure what’s that got to do with the price of eggs? Beth, he’s flirting with me!”

  “Aoife, my dear,” she drawled, “Tom Austin has been flirting with you since the first time he laid eyes on you. How can you only be realising it now?”

  “No, he hasn’t,” I said indignantly.

  “Oh yes, he has,” she replied and I could hear the smile in her voice.

  “You are being ridiculous.”

  “No, I am not. Aoife, the man is dying about you. He has been moping about like a lost puppy dog since you’ve been away. He says he is down because he’s waiting for the gardening business to take off, but I’ve seen the way he looks forlornly in the shop window every time he walks past and if he asks me one more time when you will be back I will scream.”

  I smiled. All this was music to my ears.

  “And another thing, Miss McLaughlin, since he has been on the scene, since he has been sending text messages and generally being besotted with you, you have barely mentioned that fuckwit Jake. And I know you still have a daughter by him and everything, but you are happy, Aoife. And do you know how long it has been since you were happy?” Beth’s voice started to break and I heard her sniff.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, my smile turning to concern,

  “I’m fine.” She sobbed. “I’m just very, very happy for you and very, very premenstrual.”

  “Oh shit, Beth, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m okay. Really, I’m very happy for you and things will happen for us when they will.”

  “Atta girl,” I said, wishing I could reach down the phone and rub her arm gently.

  “But anyway,” she said composing herself, “how exactly has Tom Austin been flirting with you?”

  “Well, it all involves a big wadge of cake,” I smiled and she laughed.

  ***

  When my mother arrived home I helped her to her chair, put her slippers on her feet and set about making a cup of tea.

  “Do you want one too?” I asked my father but he was busy strapping Maggie into her pram.

  “No, I’m fine, love. I’m going to take this little one out for a walk. I want to get some of that good Derry air in her lungs before you take her back to smoggy old London town,” he said with a wink.

  Already he was getting used to having Maggie around. He wasn’t keen on us going back to London but we hoped that things had changed enough that my mother would eventually make the trip over to see us (of course I would have to completely overhaul my flat before I let her cast her eye over it), which meant that Maggie and I would be seeing more of my parents in the future.

  I brought a cup of tea in a fine china cup with two Rich Tea biscuits resting on the saucer in to my mother. She was a creature of habit and if I heard her tell me that “tea doesn’t taste good unless it’s in a china cup” once when I was small, I’d heard it a million times.

  “Thanks, love,” she said, shifting back in her seat and putting her feet up on the footstool and I smiled at the use of the word “love”.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. It felt like I was asking her that a lot at the moment. I suppose, if I’m honest, I was waiting for her to tell me that yes, she was okay and she was going to continue to be okay and nothing bad or nasty was ever going to happen ever, ever, ever again.

  She nodded. “Just tired, Aoife. I feel as if I’ve been in the wars.”

  “Well, it’s not been easy,” I said, sitting down beside her.

  “No, but I’ve realised I didn’t do myself any favours – getting so wound up over things.”

  “Mum, you know you’ve always been like that,” I smiled. “But I think we would all like it if you would take it nice and easy for a while. We’ve had enough scares for now.”

  “You are one to talk, missy. Your father has told me about your little collapse. Low on iron indeed? Did I not teach you right about eating lots of red meat and all your greens. Goodness, lady, what have you been eating over there?”

  I smiled quickly as I thought of Mrs Morelli’s carrot cake, and Tom Austin, and then took my telling-off on the chin.

  “I know. I promise I’m being good now. I’ve had lots of decent home-cooked food since I’ve been back.”

  “Don’t tell me Anna has actually been cooking? I didn’t think she knew how.”

  In the past I would have stormed off in the mother of all huffs that my mother had dared criticise my precious Auntie Anna, but now I conceded Anna was not famed for her cookery skills. And I could step back from it all now and see that my mother didn’t really mean any harm with her words.

  “She’s not the worst,” I laughed, “and I’ve done my share. I’m q
uite good at cooking, you know. All those Home Economic classes at Thornhill really paid off.”

  My mother grimaced. “God, I hated your cookery days at that bloomin’ school. Do you remember you would come home with all manner of inedible rubbish and expect us to eat it for tea? God love your father, he would try.”

  I laughed, blushing at the memory of stale scones, sludgy fish pie and lumpy soups.

  “Okay, well, maybe Home Economics did me no favours but I’ve come on a long way since then.”

  “I’ll test you on that later,” she said, sipping from her cup and taking a bite from her biscuit, cupping her hand under her mouth to stop the crumbs from falling on her.

  She sat back and I took the cup from her hand.

  “I’m tired, Aoife,” she said and I went to fetch a blanket for her. As I tucked it around her she smiled – a watery smile with soft tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “I’m glad we can talk now,” she said as she closed her eyes to sleep.

  I sat on the floor beside her and rested my head on her lap and she stroked my hair. She didn’t criticise its frizziness, or pull it back from my face, she just twirled it and stroked it until we both fell asleep.

  When we woke my father was staring at us, a proud look on his face as he cuddled Maggie.

  “Here,” he said, handing my daughter to me, “let me get a picture of my three girls together.”

  ****

  Anna decided to bring John over for tea that night. She called me before and asked me if I would mind. It would have been churlish for me to say that I did – given that I had basically been acting very much like a thirty-one-year-old gooseberry over the last ten days. Not only that, but I had a brought a tiny baby gooseberry with me too to double the damage to Anna’s reawakening sex life.

  “Of course I don’t mind, you eejit,” I laughed. “Do you want me to cook something?”

  “That would be perfect,” she said, “but don’t go to any trouble. We are plain eaters and sure it’s all about company anyway.”

  Anna had used the “sure, it’s the company that matters” excuse many times as she served up burnt offerings or takeaway, all washed down with loads of decent wine and bundles of warmth and humour. And I guess she was right. I started peeling potatoes and preparing vegetables while looking at the steaks I had bought earlier in Tesco. I had put a bottle of white wine in the fridge to cool.

  “I can do this,” I said, looking at Maggie who looked back at me with a gaze similar to Matilda’s stony stares as if to say “Aye, right!”

  “I can,” I repeated. “Sure didn’t I tell your granny that cooking was wee buns to me at the moment?”

  She stared at me, not convinced.

  Anna arrived home a short time later, flustered and face blazing red with a mixture of nerves and embarrassment.

  “You will be honest with me?” she called down from the bathroom as she ran a bath. “I mean, not painfully honest. Don’t smack him or anything or tell me I’m mad, but tell me please if you think he is worth the effort.”

  “Of course I will,” I replied.

  “Because your opinion matters to me,” she called. “I mean, what do I know about men and how these modern-day relationships work? And Maeve, well, she has her head in the clouds and her daddy on a pedestal – which is fair enough – so I don’t feel I can trust her. But I can trust you? Can’t I? You’re a good judge of character, Aoife.”

  I choked back a laugh, thinking of my train-wreck of a love life. If I was such a good judge of character then I would have seen Jake Gibson for the arsehole he was a long time ago. Then again, if I had done, then I wouldn’t have Maggie in my life and that wasn’t something I wanted to contemplate.

  When it came to judging characters I was about as far off the mark as they come. And that is why, despite the flirtatious text messages from Tom Austin, the growing friendship, I was still keeping my cards very close to my chest.

  “Anna, I’m sure he is perfectly lovely. I’m looking forward to meeting him actually and warning him that if he even thinks about hurting you I will have his knackers in a vice.”

  Anna looked down the stairs at me, a towel wrapped around her body. “Would you ever mind letting me have a wee use of his knackers before you smoosh them? It’s been a while and I’m not getting any younger. This could be my last chance.”

  ****

  John seemed nice. He was handsome in a newsreader kind of a way, with a warm smile and clean shoes. I liked the fact his shoes were polished – it made me think he was making an effort for my aunt.

  He said hello while smiling at Maggie and then returned his glance to me to shake my hand and say it was lovely to make my acquaintance. He had a nice handshake, strong and masculine. A handshake was a good indicator of character, I figured.

  “Anna has told me a lot about you,” he said.

  I nodded. “Well, she hasn’t told me a whole lot about you but, now that you are here I can carry out the interrogation for myself.”

  He looked slightly alarmed before I smiled.

  “Don’t worry, John. I have a new baby. I don’t have the energy for interrogations but I am duty bound to warn you to be nice to Anna.”

  “I have no intentions of doing anything other than be very nice to your aunt,” he said, putting an arm around her waist.

  “Good,” I replied. “Now let’s have some wine.”

  It was both delightful and difficult to watch the game played out between Anna and John. If I’m honest I was jealous. How did Anna manage to have two men in her life who clearly adored her when I was yet to find even one who would adore me with even a fifth of what she got to experience?

  After dinner I made my excuses and went to bed early. Feeding Maggie, I lifted my phone and called Tom Austin.

  He answered, his voice gruff with sleepiness.

  “Did I wake you? God, I’m sorry Tom. I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

  “No, no, it’s fine,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  Now there’s a loaded question if ever I heard one.

  “I just wanted to say hello. If I’m honest I feel a little silly now. Seriously, it’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

  “You’re a strange one, Aoife McLaughlin,” he said and my heartbeat quickened at how he said my name, his delicious country accent. And it wasn’t lost on me that he said Aoife – not Aoifs like that twat-on-legs Jake.

  “I’m not strange at all,” I blushed.

  “It’s okay, Your strangeness has a certain appeal, and I’ve no intention of going back to sleep just yet – not when an attractive Irish lady has called me in the night.”

  “You’re an awful flirt, Tom Austin.”

  “I thought I was quite good at it actually,” he said and I could hear the smile in his voice. “But anyway, what can I do for you? Are you okay? Is Maggie fine?”

  “I’m fine. We’re fine. I, well, this is going to sound weird but I just fancied talking to you.”

  “I can’t tell you how much that happens to me,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Well, no. Never really,” he laughed, “but I’ll never turn down a phone call like this.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “So,” he said, “do you know when you might be home? I thought, if you didn’t mind, I could cook dinner for you some night? I know getting out won’t be easy because of Maggie.”

  “I’d like that,” I said. “I would really like that.” I could not hide the smile in my voice.

  “And Aoife,” he said, “in case you wondered, I would want our dinner to be a date – not just friends. I can’t make you any promises but I’d like to see what could happen with us.”

  “I’d like that too,” I said. “I’d like that a lot, but I’m not sure when I’ll be back. It will be a week or two yet, maybe more. I have to make sure my mum is okay.”

  “I understand,” he said, “but the High Street just isn’t the same without you and I swear Mrs Morelli’s
takings are down a good fifty per cent. She asked me to beg you to come back!”

  “You cheeky bugger!” I teased but, feeling my loosening waistbands, I knew he probably had a point.

  “You know I’m only teasing,” he said, “but it would be nice to see you soon.”

  “I’ll be back soon, I promise,” I said.

  

  Chapter 51

  Aoife

  Dan and Beth arrived looking more relaxed than I had seen them look in months. I met them at the airport and brought them back to Anna’s where we made a cup of tea and chatted – just like the old days before we had settled down and got proper jobs.

  The only difference was the not-so-tiny-anymore baby gnawing on my nipples. Still, it was funny to watch Dan try and not look at my breasts while Maggie fed.

  After a while, leaving my daughter in the tender care of her great-auntie, I took Beth and Dan to the hotel where they would be staying. (Anna had of course offered to put them up but her box room was even more floral and claustrophobic than the room I was staying in.) Then Dan offered to stay out of our way while Beth and I shared a bottle of wine in the hotel bar and caught up on the gossip.

  “So things are well mended with your mum then?” Beth asked, sipping her wine.

  “It’s getting better. She is getting better and we don’t want to kill each other as much. It’s not quite Walton’s Mountain, but it’s a start. She has even taken to calling Maggie her wee lamb.”

  “That’s nice,” Beth said smiling. “I’m glad things are starting to come good for you.”