by Sophie White
‘Yeah, Sinead’s very cool,’ he agreed. ‘It’ll be weird to see her in a wedding dress,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘I’ve seen her arse so many times. She’s a real flasher when she’s drunk.’
‘Ha, brilliant. I love an arse flash.’ Ali nodded, scooping up her mash and gravy. ‘It’s such a whimsical brand of grossness. It’s sort of adorable, isn’t it?’
Sam laughed in agreement. ‘Though I saw my uncle do it once and it wasn’t great. Weird, almost stubbly arse.’
‘Shheeeesh, I suppose it is always the wrong person getting it out. So, do you have a plus one?’
‘Eh, yeah, I do ’cos of being in the bridal party.’ Sam was suddenly focused on his Yorkshire pudding.
‘Relax. It’s grand with me, of course. Who is she?’ Ali plastered a smile on her face, ready to play the cool girl if it killed her.
‘Oh no. I haven’t invited anyone yet. I just have the option.’
Ali messed with the last of the mash on her carb plate and debated throwing caution to the wind. She flashed on her new resolve to stop grovelling and just be herself. It was a gamble but fuck it. The man’s child was in her. She’d nothing to lose.
‘You should bring me!’ she announced brightly. ‘It’d be great fun. A nice chance for lil parasite here to get to know the sound of your voice ahead of him busting out all over you on a wave of gore. We could just go as friends, separate rooms and everything.’
Sam looked deeply uncertain and Ali figured it was best not to let him answer right away.
‘Sure, have a think,’ she quickly continued. ‘And if you want some company, I’d love to come. It’d be good to meet your friends and show them that I’m not a complete lunatic.’
‘Yeah …’ Sam was looking a little blindsided by her enthusiasm and undeniably dubious.
‘Look, no presh,’ Ali rushed on to change the subject, so that before he could reject it outright the idea could settle inside him and maybe he would start to think that he had come up with it in the first place.
‘Right.’ Ali mopped up the last of her gravy with a chunk of Yorkshire pudding. ‘Dessert? I feel like a doughnut might be in order.’ The buzz of her phone interrupted with a calendar notification.
W Y N D Summit announcement countdown post.
Ugh. Ali checked the time: 4 p.m. All the influencers were supposed to be posting the W Y N D tile at exactly 4.45 p.m. and adding a countdown function, which would expire at midnight when W Y N D would be unveiled on Holistic Hazel’s feed.
‘You’re still yoked to the phone, I see.’ Sam sat back and Ali sensed a chill permeate what had up until then been quite a good almost-date.
Ali ignored her immediate urge, which was deny, deny, deny.
‘Yep, kind of.’ She held his gaze. ‘I need money for carveries! And the small matter of your bastard child. But it is completely different now. No gaslighting. No pathological lying. And I’m not trying to make a career of it or anything. After the internet found out I was lying about the pregnancy it was totally shit, but there is something freeing about losing everything.’ She took a breath to steady herself. She didn’t want to get upset and make it seem like a manipulative sympathy-grab. ‘I’d lost my job, my dad and you. And I know it was my fault,’ she added quickly, ‘but, well, anyway I just thought “Fuck it”. I wanna make something positive out of all this mess. For me and for the baby. And whether it’s because I’m a crazy lying bitch who they hate or whatever, all these people follow me so I’m going to use it. But for something real, something important. I’ve been writing again and Terry from Durty Aul’ Town is helping me. I’m hoping to perform it in the Dublin Stage Fest.’
‘Oh.’ Sam looked uncertain. ‘Congratulations, I suppose?’
‘And I’m in this group therapy programme that’s really helping me to kind of get to the bottom of my problem with Instagram. So anyway, yeah, I’m not on there talking shit every day and I’m not pretending to design a range of prams or bollixing on about random supplements for an #ad but I’m still dabbling a bit. Just in a less obsessive, destructive way.’
‘Cool, cool.’ Sam was scanning the room to signal for the bill and Ali tried not to feel too defeated. She couldn’t have expected him to want to jump straight back on board her crazy train but this did seem like such a dud note to end on.
‘Sam? I’m not sure if you’ve thought about the birth at all. Liv has said that if I need her, she’ll be my partner, but I just wanted you to know that I would love you to be there. But it’s totally up to you. There’s a class I’m going to in a few weeks, so you don’t need to decide now. Just let me know,’ she finished quietly.
They parted ways with a clumsy hug outside the Merry Cobbler and Ali had to concentrate hard on not getting upset. His Sam smell and lovely Sam arms were still her kryptonite.
He seemed to hear her thoughts.
‘That Ali smell.’ He allowed his fingers to linger in her hair and she could feel the crackle of that impossible to explain, impossible to ignore chemical compatibility that she’d never had with anyone else.
For a wild moment she considered just blurting out ‘Wanna bone?’ but before she could ruin a perfectly lovely moment with her trademark subtlety, Sam stepped towards her and practically mashed his face into hers.
She just about had time to think: My God, we’re kissing when it was over in a muddle of lips and tongues, her hands on his rough jaw and his on her neck. He looked dazed, even more shocked than she felt despite him being the instigator.
He took a few steps back and then gave her a slightly baffling thumbs up, his cheeks burning adorably.
Ali, not knowing what else to do, gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up too.
‘Well, see you in the WhatsApp, I guess.’ Sam spun around and immediately lurched away. Even his back looked mortified.
Ali positively floated to the bus, posting the W Y N D Insta to her Story and feed, unable to believe the turn the day had taken. All afternoon at her desk she tried to write and eventually settled into scrolling through pics of her and Sam on her phone while listening to the soundtrack from The OC for good measure. She kept checking WhatsApp to see if he had sent anything but there were only tumbleweeds. Eventually, when she heard Liv’s key in the door, she abandoned all attempts at pretending to work and drifted down to the kitchen, where Liv appeared to be in similar buzzed form. She’d cranked The Distillers and was bopping around cheerily doing the dishes Ali had ignored earlier. Ali sidled up and grabbed the tea towel to dry and Liv caught a peek at her face.
‘Uh oh, what’s got you so happy? Have you hit the half a mil on Instagram?’
Ali shook her head, unable to stop smiling. ‘I could ask the same of you?’ she deflected.
‘Ah well, tonight’s the dinner with Amy.’ Liv ducked her head, also apparently unable to stop smiling.
‘Of course!’ Ali shouted. ‘Finally! Boom!’ She whipped Liv playfully with the tea towel and then started a little victory twerk.
‘Gahhh, please.’ Liv pretended to shield her eyes in horror. ‘No preg twerking, it’s so jarring,’ she pleaded.
‘Fine.’ Ali modified the dance into some lascivious gyrating.
‘That is worse,’ Liv wailed.
‘What? It’s medicinal, I’ve got to do my pelvic thrusts.’
Liv laughed. ‘Seriously, what is up? This is the most jazzed I’ve seen you since that parasite moved in. I take it the scan went well?’
‘Yep.’ Ali continued thrusting and smiling, ‘But that’s not all … Sam kissed me and now I have hurty smiley face.’ She flung her arms around Liv’s waist and spooned her at the sink.
‘Wow, that’s … unexpected.’ Liv stopped washing the dishes and turned to face Ali.
‘I know.’ Ali spun over to the biscuit cupboard and grabbed the Jaffa Cakes. ‘I’m trying not to overthink it. I don’t really think he meant to and then suddenly it was happening. He cut it off kind of abruptly but I’m not dwelling on that.’ She crammed two biscuits
in her mouth triumphantly and handed one to Liv.
‘Quite the plot twist.’ Liv munched absent-mindedly on the Jaffa Cake. ‘But seems positive?’
‘Deffo.’ Ali’s reply was muffled by sponge and orange jelly and she swallowed thickly before continuing. ‘I think the best plan now is to totally ignore him and just try not to spook him. We don’t want him suddenly coming to his senses.’
‘No.’ Liv smiled.
‘Still, though, etiquette-wise, he’s on thin ice. It’s not a good idea to get your estranged girlfriend all riled up right in the middle of the second trimester. I have a raging pregnant horn and now I have to go action that myself. Like, not only is this kind of thing way better as a team sport but also logistically it’s very tricky right now. My reach just isn’t what it was even a few weeks ago.’ She regarded the obstructive bump sadly.
‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage, nature finds a way.’ Liv grinned. ‘Right, I’ll leave you … eh … all’ – she awkwardly indicated the bump – ‘to it. I’m gonna head. Need to meet Amy at seven.’
‘Have fun!’ Ali called. ‘Text me how it’s going. I’m living vicariously through you.’
Chapter 20
Shelly walked through the quiet house rubbing her back. At thirty-three weeks pregnant, she was aching everywhere now. She was doing her final check for the evening. She hated that she’d become so antsy in her own home. At least it was still bright out. In late July the garden just beyond the vast kitchen windows was still visible in many shades of violet and deep purple.
She dreaded next winter, when the night would press in on her and all she’d see from inside was her own tense face reflected. She cursed her determination to have as much glass as possible in the kitchen extension. Of course, she’d never pictured a future where she’d be alone here night after night, held hostage by some unknown threat. How had it been nearly six months of @_________? Of constantly looking over her shoulder for who or what, she didn’t even know?
Movement in the garden startled her but it was just Dan. Instinctively she retreated from the doors in the hope that he hadn’t seen her. Ever since the night she’d spotted him kissing that girl a few months before, she’d been waiting to see if he would bring any more women back to her house. The absolute neck of him. She still got furious when she thought about him admonishing her for taking photos of Georgie when he was bringing strange women around while he ‘babysat’ his own daughter. Now she could see Dan was heading straight for her back doors and she slipped over to unlock them.
‘Hey.’ He nodded, clutching a large brown envelope as he stepped over the threshold.
‘Hi?’ Shelly made no effort to hide her irritation. ‘Did you say you were coming by? I’m just going to bed. I’m exhausted and I have an early appointment.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t.’ Dan moved past her, and Shelly bridled at the entitled way he settled on the couch and crossed his legs without even being invited in. ‘I’ll be quick. I just wanted you to take a look at the new separation agreement my solicitor drew up – he’s amended it to include a suggested custody arrangement. He says it’ll make the divorce easier in due course. In your own time, anyway.’ He tossed the envelope down beside him. ‘Also, I need to take some pics of the kitchen extension to send on to the valuer.’
Shelly crossed her arms. ‘Why are you sending pics to a valuer?’
‘C’mon, Shelly, you know why.’ Dan actually had the nerve to look exasperated. ‘Neither of us will be able to buy the other out, so the sooner we get this place valued the better we can decide what comes next.’
Shelly snatched up the envelope. ‘Take whatever pictures you want. Do it quickly, please. I’m tired. I’m about a million years pregnant and I need to go to bed. I’ll send this to my solicitor.’
Just as soon as I get one, she added silently, seething.
As soon as Dan had left, Shelly pulled out her phone to resume her checks. Fucking fucker, as if I need this house stress on top of everything else, she fumed as she deleted the previous night’s videos then hit Record as she tested the sliding glass doors. Locked. Of course they were, Dan had only left minutes before. However, the security in the house had become an all-consuming paranoia. Hence the video. She’d started to record the nightly check so that in an hour or so up in bed when she became convinced she’d heard some unfamiliar creak downstairs she could check the video and be reassured she’d left no door or window unchecked.
She moved into the flat-lay studio to pull on each of the windows in turn, her phone capturing each tug. She returned to the kitchen, scanning the table as she passed.
Amy had set it immaculately for the Morning Routine LIVE they had scheduled for first thing tomorrow. It was sponsored by Kanavan Oats and Shelly was apprehensive. Amy priced the LIVEs very high on their services because they were tricky. You had to nail everything in one perfect take, which left little room for any Insta trickery. However, Kanavan’s had coughed up for an hour of Instagram LIVE and that was a serious spend for any client. So, in the morning Amanda was coming at the crack of dawn to do her make-up before Amy would arrive and kick off the LIVE. Shelly would rise refreshed and apparently perfectly made up from sleep to take the viewers through her morning routine.
The Shell-Belles were setting their alarms if the comments under her post announcing the collab were anything to go by and they had been promised a Q&A session at the end of the show. Exhausting. Shelly sighed as she knocked out the lights in the kitchen, repeated the filming process with the windows in the reception rooms, checked the front door and turned on the alarm.
On the second floor, she slipped into Georgie’s room to kiss her on the temples. Mama perk, she smiled to herself and then double-checked the child’s outfit was in order, grey and pink skirt and top to complement the grey maternity jeans and pink cashmere sweater she’d hung up for herself in the dressing room upstairs.
In her bedroom, she spritzed her pillow with something claiming to be calming lavender oil. She massaged her bump with some body butter Hazel assured her was the best stretch-mark-preventing unguent on the market and tried to do some of her breathing techniques.
She hadn’t been going to her therapist, Berna, quite as much in the last few weeks. Things were just so hectic with the weekly trips to various hotels pedalling her perfect life and her perfect wardrobe tips. Plus being at Hazel’s beck and call with the W Y N D summit barely six weeks away had been … taxing. Still, if she made the money to buy out the house meant it would be all worth it. She’d worked so hard for it. She could do it, couldn’t she?
In the dim light of her side lamp, she took some steadying breaths to stave off the thoughts that crowded in unbidden at night …
Could she realistically sort the house? She could. She would. Whatever it took. The anxious monologue changed tack. How would she manage a nearly four-year-old and a newborn?
‘Oh my God!’ she blurted out loud, shooting up from the sea of throw pillows.
How, how, HOW could I have forgotten this?
She raced from the room and back downstairs as fast as she could without waking Georgie. In the kitchen she scoured drawers for candles or balloons, anything birthday-ish. Nothing.
She looked at the wall calendar in the kitchen. Wednesday, 25 July: Georgie’s birthday. For God’s sake. The coming Saturday was highlighted and circled many times over because that was the day of her party but the anniversary of her bloody birth was tomorrow. Poor Georgie probably didn’t even know that tomorrow was the actual day but still Shelly couldn’t believe it had gone so far out of her head. Plus, many of the Shell-Belles were invested enough to remember specific dates. Last year it was only thanks to a few Shell-Belles messaging to say happy anniversary that she remembered it was her and Dan’s sixth wedding anniversary. Morto. Shelly pulled out a few more drawers but couldn’t find so much as a streamer to put on the breakfast table for the morning. Not wanting to give Dan the satisfaction of her having forgotten something so key, she dug out her pho
ne to send Amy a voicenote.
‘I’ve messed up. Is there any way you can pick up some balloons and candles on your way over in the morning? It’s Georgie’s goddamn birthday and I am officially the worst mother in the world.’
She trudged back up the stairs feeling slightly better. Amy would pick up that message in the morning and Georgie would never know Shelly’d forgotten. She hopped back into bed and pulled the sheets over her. It’d all be fine in the morning was her final thought as she drifted away on a tide of sleep.
‘Shelly? Shell hun?’
Shelly opened her eyes to Amanda’s whispers tugging her from a chaotic dream where she’d left the baby and Georgie in the back of a taxi and was racing around the city trying to find them. They were the kind of dreams that had plagued her during her pregnancy with Georgie. Anxiety was a bitch.
‘I’m awake, Mandy. Thanks.’ Shelly sat up and Amanda gave her a little wave and ducked back out to set up in the dressing room. It was 6 a.m. They had an hour tops before Amy would arrive and she’d go LIVE for the Shell-Belles. Luckily, Mandy worked quickly, and Shelly was back in bed and ready to fake wake up when Amy strode up the stairs an hour later.
‘Hey bbz.’ Amy kept her voice low so as not to disturb Georgie and came around to the side of the bed to put an alarm clock on the bedside table. ‘Right, let’s get going. We’ll aim to do the Q&A while you’re cooking the porridge. So just rock through the morning meditation, journalling and intention-setting, get yourself dressed, wake Georgie et cetera and we’ll be down in the kitchen by half. This is set for twenty seconds, right?’
Shelly nodded and settled herself under the sheet to pretend to wake up as Amy began to roll the Insta LIVE recording. Just as the alarm began to sound, she realised she forgot to check if Amy had brought the party stuff. Oh feck. It was impossible to interrupt the LIVE now. The Shell-Belles missed nothing, and no doubt would be swarming all over Rants.ie with theories if anything were amiss in the LIVE.