Driving Home for Christmas

by Emma Hannigan

  ‘Maybe you can sort it out now. New year and all that? Contact her and start afresh,’ Jules suggested. ‘Anyway, I’m a right one to talk! I won’t be in touch with my mother so that’s that! On a more cheerful note, I’m really looking forward to Christmas at Huntersbrook.’

  Lainey was delighted Jules was joining them, if baffled as to why her mother wasn’t speaking to her. She was such a lovely girl, and so diplomatic. She could easily have entered into a let’s-slag-Grandma conversation just now, but she hadn’t. In Lainey’s opinion Jules’s mother was missing out by not talking to her daughter.

  The girls finished their meal and made their way to the station. As they settled into their seats on the train, Lainey couldn’t recall a business trip she’d enjoyed as much.

  It was dark and lashing rain by the time they pulled into Heuston station in Dublin. ‘I’m going to jump in a taxi,’ Lainey said. ‘It’s so disgusting – I can’t bear the thought of messing around on buses.’

  ‘I’m near the city centre so I’ll hop in a taxi too,’ Jules said. ‘Thanks for today. My first business trip with the county council!’

  ‘Great to have your company,’ Lainey said, kissing Jules on both cheeks.

  Moments later, as she settled into the warmth of the taxi, she felt happier than she had for ages. In general she liked her job, but until Jules had joined she’d often felt a bit lonely at the office. Days like today made her feel hopeful that she’d get over Seth and move on with her life.

  When the driver stopped outside her apartment complex, she realised she was exhausted. She paid him, stashed the receipt so she could claim the money back, then let herself into the dark flat. The one-bedroom first-floor unit was far from luxurious. The developers had described it as compact, which translated as poky yet functional. Lainey had bought it at the right time, just before the whole country had gone mad, paying extortionate prices. It was in one of those purpose-built complexes halfway between Dublin and Wicklow so there was little in the way of community spirit. Lainey knew none of her neighbours and she’d often thought that she could be lying there dead for a week and nobody would notice or care.

  ‘It’s a glorified cubbyhole,’ Grandma had said, the first time she saw the place. ‘I’d go stark raving mad in here.’

  ‘Well, you’re Manor House Maggie!’ Lainey had teased. All the same, she’d been bowled over when her grandma had arrived the following day with a large picture in a frame.

  ‘It’s your moving-in gift. I’d call it a house-warmer but this isn’t a house.’ Grandma had sniffed.

  Lainey had peeled off the newspaper wrapping (Grandma didn’t believe in waste and had recycled unwittingly all her life) and gasped at the blown-up photo.

  ‘Do you recognise it?’ Grandma asked, smiling.

  ‘It’s the view from my bedroom window at Huntersbrook,’ Lainey said, with tears in her eyes.

  ‘At least you can still see a bit of greenery to keep you going until the weekends.’

  Grandma always did things like that. She made thoughtful gestures that nobody else would ever consider. Well, she used to, until she’d gone with Sid to the other side of the planet without so much as a backward glance. Maybe it was the chilly air in the unheated apartment or maybe her hangover had set in, but Lainey was suddenly wide awake.

  She scolded herself for falling back into a grouch about Grandma’s defection, and tried to put herself into the positive zone Jules had talked about earlier. She needed to become a little more glass-half-full about everything.

  She turned on the washing machine and vacuumed the apartment. Then she put on her pyjamas and decided to have a quick practice in her new shoes. The high heels still made her feel a bit scared as she slid them on. She had to learn to walk in them before she ventured out in public or she’d be face down with her dress over her head in spitting time.

  Jules probably hadn’t meant for her to clean the oven with them on, but Lainey wasn’t going to cease being practical overnight. She was cleaning when her mobile rang so she forgot she was wearing the new shoes and nearly poleaxed herself as she staggered towards the coffee table. ‘Hello,’ she gasped.

  ‘Lainz, it’s only me. Is everything okay?’ Jules asked.

  ‘You don’t want to know! I think you’d have me locked up if you saw me now. I’m in my pyjamas with a pair of rubber gloves on and my new high heels. I nearly killed myself answering the phone. I’m not holding out much hope for making it through the Christmas party in these, Jules.’

  ‘Listen, tell me if you hate him,’ Jules said, ‘but I just got a call from a girly mate who has two Michael Bublé tickets from her ex-boyfriend, as of this afternoon, and they’re going begging for zero euros.’

  ‘Free?’ Lainey was aghast.

  ‘The only condition is that she might get back with him and need them again. But seeing as he’s been shagging her flatmate, I reckon we’re fairly safe.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t have anyone else to bring?’ Lainey said doubtfully.

  ‘Oh! You’re allergic to him, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘I know he’s a bit of a Marmite type – some people love him and others hate him.’

  ‘No! It’s not that.’ Lainey was giggling. ‘I’d love to see him. Thank you.’ She needed to get out more and Jules was fun. It was time to push through the barrier of uncertainty Seth had left her with. I’m going to be a glass-half-full girl, she reminded herself.

  ‘If you want to stay over at my place you’re most welcome. It’ll be a blow-up bed on the living-room floor but it’d save you a taxi fare to your own place,’ Jules offered.

  ‘Thanks, Jules.’ She shook off her shoes and flopped onto the sofa.

  ‘Brilliant!’ Jules said happily. ‘See you tomorrow at the office and thanks again for a great day today.’

  Lainey said goodbye, then decided to log on to Facebook and post something cheerful.

  Happy Monday one and all. Just home from a successful business trip where I was joined by a great friend along with the Chardonnay fairy! Oops – shouldn’t drink on a work night but what the heck? It’s nearly Christmas! Off to Mr Bublé on Sat night! Can’t wait!

  As she hit the share button her gaze rested on Seth’s latest post.

  My fiancée made a serious faux pas today & brought a wedding dress home to hide in the wardrobe. Luckily I came across it – suffice it to say she’ll be taking it back tomorrow. I mean, who wants to marry a girl dressed in an old-fashioned toilet-roll holder? Ugh! It’s vile! I told her she’s lucky I’m willing to wipe the image of her wearing it from my mind!

  Some of Seth’s mates had added comments about him being like Hitler, and one even suggested he should consider locking the girl in the attic. The whole exchange made Lainey’s blood run cold. She knew Seth wasn’t joking about any of it. She could clearly imagine his flaring nostrils as he’d found that poor girl’s dress. She was probably sobbing silently in their room at this very moment broken-hearted that he had slated the dress she’d thought was the one.

  Closing her laptop, Lainey glanced at her watch and decided to give her parents a quick call before she went to bed.

  ‘Hi, love,’ her dad answered. ‘Are you not watching NCIS?’

  ‘I forgot it was on.’

  ‘Are you ill? It’s not like you to miss it,’ Paddy said.

  ‘I was at the Limerick office all day. I’m not long back,’ she said, yawning. ‘I was just calling to tell you and Mum I’ve been invited to the Michael Bublé concert with a friend on Saturday.’

  ‘God love you,’ Paddy said. ‘I think I’d rather stab myself with the pitchfork, but I suppose he’s more for the ladies than rough old farmers like myself.’

  ‘That’s enough.’ Holly was on the line. ‘I’m envious, Lainey,’ Holly continued. ‘I’d love to see Mr Bublé. Ignore your father, he’s in one of his silly moods. Hold on till I give him a quick thump. Who are you going with? Anyone nice?’

  ‘Jules, my new friend in the office.’


  ‘Oh. I thought for a moment there you might have a hot date.’

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ Lainey said, smarting. ‘Jules is really lovely and you’ll like her. While I remember, I invited her for Christmas dinner. That’s okay, isn’t it?’

  ‘Eh, yes, of course.’ Holly sounded hesitant.

  ‘You don’t sound sure,’ Lainey said. ‘Is everything okay, Mum?’

  ‘Everything’s fine. I’m just tired. I was running around like a mad woman today, that’s all.’

  ‘Sure I’ll chat to you later in the week. Get a good night’s sleep – you sound exhausted,’ Lainey said.

  ‘I said I was fine!’

  ‘Sorry.’ Her mother was in one of her usual defensive moods. Lainey couldn’t help but think that if Holly had been talking to Pippa or Joey she wouldn’t have snapped. If she herself so much as attempted to voice an opinion her mother practically jumped down her throat.

  She said goodbye, scooped up her new shoes and went into her bedroom to look in her wardrobe for something to wear to the concert. Nothing jumped out as being a ‘gig’ outfit. She vowed to call Pippa the following day for some fashion advice.

  8

  Grown-up

  Christmas Wish

  Joey was having one of those days when he was pretty short of patience. He needed to get to work and Sophia had been in the bathroom for at least half an hour. ‘I’m late! What are you doing in there?’ he asked, knocking on the door once more.

  ‘I was putting on fake tan,’ she said, coming out and brushing past him.

  He went in and opened the window. He couldn’t stand the smell of that stuff. The whole concept was beyond him at the best of times but it was December and they lived in Ireland: why did girls think they should have a tan?

  ‘This place stinks,’ he shouted, as he kicked the door shut. He turned on the shower, stood under the jets and lathered himself. At least he could breathe in the citrus scent rather than that awful burned-rashers pong. Folding his arms, he sighed deeply. He was still pissed off with Sophia. She’d made zero effort with his family last weekend. He’d given her the benefit of the doubt on the rare occasions they’d visited Huntersbrook over the past few months, but this time her selfish carry-on had bugged him.

  He rubbed his hair dry, wrapped a towel around his waist and brushed his teeth. Sod it, he thought. Enough was enough. ‘We need to talk,’ he said, walking into the bedroom and beginning to get dressed.

  ‘Not now,’ she said, as she pulled on a puffa coat over her yoga gear. ‘I’m going to the gym to meet a new client. I’ll see you later. I’ve a bike session to do so I’ll set up the turbo-trainer in the living room. You can talk to me then.’

  ‘Sophia, can’t you give me five minutes? I’m late for work too.’

  ‘Then now isn’t the time. Catch you later,’ she said, pecking him on the lips and jogging out the door.

  Joey thumped the bedroom wall, then finished dressing as quickly as he could. There was no way he could talk while he was in work and, besides, she never answered her phone during the day.

  The Lanzarote thing was stressing him out too. He didn’t want to go. He was enjoying his training and he certainly hoped he’d do a few races come the summer, but he wasn’t as dedicated to it as Sophia was. He knew she needed to put in serious hours if she was to manage the Ironman race in September, but he had to explain to her that he wasn’t happy about missing Christmas with his family. Maybe they could come to a compromise and go to the Canaries on 26 or 27 December instead.

  Luckily the bus arrived quickly and he made it into the office on time.

  ‘Ready to meet Mr Dunphy from Megavalue Supermarket?’ Clive, his boss, greeted him. ‘They should be here in a few minutes. I’ll be along once you’ve gone over the initial figures with them.’

  ‘See you shortly,’ Joey said.

  ‘I hope to have a bit of news for you later on too,’ Clive added, banging Joey on the back.

  ‘Thanks,’ Joey said, brightening. Could this be what he’d been waiting for? A promotion, perhaps? He’d been working his arse off to make it in the accountancy firm. Times were really hard economically but they were weathering the storm so far. The client he was meeting this morning was a tricky fecker, but he and Joey had connected on the triathlon circuit last summer.

  ‘Joey! Good morning. How are things?’ Mr Dunphy emerged from the lift behind him.

  ‘Good morning! Good to see you. Come on in and we’ll get started,’ he said. ‘Coffee or tea?’

  ‘I’m off caffeine. I’ve a new trainer and he’s all about natural foods and avoiding artificial stimulants. Not sure how it’ll all translate on the triathlon courses but I’m giving it a shot. Have you herbal tea in this place?’ he asked, striding into the meeting room and bashing his briefcase onto the desk. He was pushing sixty but his training meant he was fit. He worked and trained hard, but although he was undoubtedly a sound businessman, he wasn’t exactly popular with most of the accountants. He was loud and brash and had a habit of offending people.

  ‘Certainly,’ Joey said, buzzing his secretary’s extension. ‘Morning, Jemima. Can you bring me two herbal teas, please? Hold all my calls. I’m in room three with Mr Dunphy.’

  He hung up, clipped open his briefcase and pulled out his laptop with the Megavalue books he’d finished working on.

  ‘How’s the training going yourself?’ Dunphy asked.

  ‘Not bad,’ Joey said. ‘Ticking away. I can’t say I’ll be as successful as you are come race season, but I’ll do my best.’

  ‘It’s easier to win when you hit my age group. Most of the competition are heading towards Zimmer-frame territory so I’m at a bit of an advantage, I suppose,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘Ah, don’t put yourself down. You’re a fine athlete in your own right. I’ve seen you in the water and you’re a machine!’ Joey said, grateful to be able to tap into the other man’s passion outside running one of the biggest local supermarkets in the country.

  Dunphy cackled at the compliment. Then: ‘Enough of that. Show me the money,’ he said, all smiles gone.

  Sophia was feeling even more irritated by the end of the morning. Her first client that day had been a total sap, a man sent to her by his wife to lose some of his beer belly.

  ‘My good lady has gently told me I need to tone up, so I figured a few sessions before Christmas would keep her happy,’ he boomed.

  ‘Well, it’s going to take a lot more than one or two jogs,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to kid you here. You’re very out of shape. I can help you, certainly, but it won’t be easy.’

  He’d looked shocked and annoyed! Ha! As if it was her fault he’d stuffed his face for fifty years and spent his evenings drinking wine and pontificating.

  She’d got him to pay up-front for the training so, as far as she was concerned, the rest was up to him. He was definitely one of the lazy sort who’d come once more, twice at a push, and she’d never see him again. She wasn’t bothered what he did. She was a good trainer, everyone in south Dublin knew that, but she wasn’t a ‘coach’. If they wanted to discuss their feelings, her clients could go elsewhere. Her way of doing things involved pushing it, then finding the extra ten per cent and pushing it some more. Nothing else worked.

  ‘You’re a hard taskmaster,’ Mr Blobby had said this morning.

  ‘And I make no apologies for it,’ she’d answered.

  The next session was a group she’d been training for a while. They were a corporate set, like the crew from Joey’s work, but this lot were women, who did their block session of planned training and disappeared. Perfect.

  She saw she’d missed calls from Joey but she hadn’t the headspace to talk to him today. He was only going to bleat on at her about Christmas again. He was really pissing her off. She’d counted on his usual easygoing nature to bring him round to her way of thinking, but he was digging in his heels and she didn’t like it one bit. He kept saying, ‘Mum’ll be hurt,’ or ‘Dad’ll be devast
ated,’ and even ‘Pippa would never get over it if I wasn’t there.’

  It was such arse in Sophia’s opinion. It was Christmas – one day. Who gave a toss? He could go and sit by the fire and smell smouldering logs any other time he wished. Why did she have to do it too? Christmas to her meant time off from her clients. Time she needed to spend training. This camp only operated for a few weeks each year. It was vital she tapped into the expertise of the people who ran it. Ironman was a big deal and Joey needed to start seeing her point of view. If he didn’t, she’d have to reconsider her position with regard to their relationship.

  Stuffing her mobile phone to the bottom of her kitbag, she banished the scowl from her face and turned on a smile. Her ladies would be ready for action and they didn’t need to be faced with a sourpuss. Damn Joey and his constant whining.

  The day flew past, as Joey moved from one taxing meeting to another. By the time five o’clock came around he was starving. He grabbed a banana and a large packet of peanuts from his desk drawer and shovelled in as much as he could before he went to the lift.

  ‘Ah, there you are,’ Clive said, as he joined him. ‘Are you coming to the track for a run?’

  ‘Yup,’ Joey said wearily. ‘I can’t say I’m in the mood but I’m sure it’ll do me good once I get going. I’m starving – I didn’t make it to the canteen for a proper lunch but I reckon the exercise will clear my throbbing head. It sounds pretty wild and windy out there. It’ll blow the cobwebs off us if nothing else.’

  ‘Certainly will,’ Clive agreed. ‘Did you bring your car today or do you want a lift?’

  ‘I’d love a lift, as it happens,’ Joey said. ‘I knew I was in the office all day so I didn’t bother with the car. Cheers,’ he said. They descended in the lift to the underground level and he held the door to the car park open for his boss. Sitting inside Clive’s Audi, Joey inhaled the earthy smell of the leather.