‘Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen …’ George calls out as everyone turns to gaze into the middle distance where we’ve been promised a fireworks display awaits. Celine is nowhere to be seen.
‘Eight, seven, six …’ James joins in and tightens his grip on my shoulders as the tit tape starts to give way, peeling slowly but surely away from my skin.
‘Four, three, two …’ He smiles and looks down into my eyes as I give praise and thanks for the blanket covering the purple and black plunge bra from the eyes of Buckleton’s lords and ladies.
‘One! Happy New Year!’ they shout and the first fireworks shoot into the air and James kisses me soundly and softly on the lips.
‘I love you, Aisling.’
25
A split second of looking into his eyes and only a whisper of hesitation later I say it.
‘I love you too.’
It’s such a perfect moment, as rockets and Catherine wheels erupt in the sky above us, how could I not say it back to him? A whole new year is yawning out in front of us, full of hope and possibilities. Maybe we will get a couple’s massage! And I do feel so much love for him, this poor little lost boy who came to BGB and swept me off my feet. As George Matthews starts bellowing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ into the night sky like Pavarotti himself, I think back to how Celine was so dismissive of us earlier. A flicker of doubt flashes somewhere at the back of my mind but I ignore it. I’ve never said ‘I love you’ to any man other than John. Of course it’s going to feel a bit strange and foreign, especially the first time. I snuggle deeper into him, inhaling his James Matthews scent, feeling content and safe despite being so far from home.
Standing there looking up at the fireworks, I catch myself wondering what he’s doing tonight. John. He’s probably in the Vortex with Megan and the gang. Paul too, I hope. They do a legendary drinks deal on New Year’s Eve – two vodkas and a can of Generic Energy Drink for €10 – and things tend to get out of hand early in the night.
James and I turn in shortly afterwards in a bit of a love bubble. Celine is nowhere to be seen, and James predicts she’s taken over the study with whatever members of her crew came to Buckleton with her from wherever they were. I ask James where that might be and he shrugs and says, ‘Probably at some castle in Scotland.’ I save this information for Majella. She’ll be delighted.
I’m grateful to be leaving the party. I was bored making small talk with the likes of Bumbo and his sisters, Buffy and Hedge. And I couldn’t risk exposing myself any more than I already had done.
‘James?’ I whisper when we get into bed and are lying face to face in the dark listening to cars crunching up and down the driveway. I feel like I should talk to him about it. I know it’s not a secret to him, but it’s a secret that I know about it.
‘Yeah,’ he says, his voice sleepy.
‘You can talk to me about anything, you know? Anything at all.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘I mean, we could talk about our childhoods or …’
He sits up, turns on the bedside lamp, props himself up on his elbow and looks into my eyes. ‘Is this about my mother?’
‘Well, Natasia said –’
‘I knew it was either Rose or Natasia. Look, it’s not a big deal. She wasn’t a very hands-on mother. She and Dad were never close. He was older. She travelled a lot. She made art with people.’ A few people there this evening looked like they’d made some jewellery or pottery in their time alright. ‘My father was fine but not that interested in looking after small boys. The end.’
‘Okay.’
He turns off the light and lies on his back.
‘James?’
‘Yes?’
‘Why did you and Rose break up?’
He sighs and then laughs. ‘Okay, I suppose I was asking for this,’ he pokes me in the side, ‘telling you I love you like I did.’ He lifts his arm and I duck under it and lay my head on his chest. ‘We just wanted different things, I guess. It was all fine. A long time ago. Water under the bridge.’
We lie in silence for a bit and then he talks into the darkness. ‘So I get to ask the same question then. Why did you and John break up?’
I answer quickly, parroting back what he’d said to me. ‘Same as you. We wanted different things.’
Although, in truth, John and I just grew apart in the end. We broke up, we hurt each other and then we got back together and it just wasn’t the same.
‘We outgrew each other,’ I admit to James. I’ve learned more about him in the past forty-eight hours than in all the time I’ve known him. I can return the favour.
‘Well, aren’t I the lucky man who got to claim the newly grown-up Aisling?’ he teases, tightening his arm around my shoulder, and I’m instantly and unfairly reminded of all the work and responsibilities waiting for me at home. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to stay in the moment.
‘James?’
‘Yes?’
‘That castle in Scotland. How many rooms do you think?’
I’ve already been awake for hours when James stirs at eight the next morning.
‘Hi.’ He smiles, turning to me. ‘I love you.’
This is what I’ve been thinking about, watching him sleep. How do you know you love someone? With John I just knew. I felt it deep in my bones. I wanted the very best for him. He was my best friend. We shared everything. When it was good, it was really good. And when it went bad, it broke my heart to pieces. That’s how I know it was love. As I watched James’s long eyelashes flutter in his sleep, I wondered if we would be best friends. Would we share everything? Would he ever be able to break my heart?
‘Love you too,’ I say back to him, hoping he can’t hear the strain in my voice. I’m just tired. That’s all.
Our flight isn’t until 6 p.m. so there’s plenty of time to kill before we’re due to leave, even allowing for the fact that I like to be there a good three hours early. Who knows what Southampton Airport has to offer? There might be a Gordon Ramsay restaurant or somewhere to buy a little Harrods bag. James decides to go for a run, and it’s brand new information to me that that’s something he does. I tried Couch to 5K with Majella a few years ago, but we made it as far as the second tree before we gave up completely. Fast walking is more my style – I don’t even run the mini marathon. I hope James doesn’t suggest couples jogging.
I don’t fancy getting caught talking to Celine by myself. She’s not like other mammies I’ve managed to charm. There’s no warmth to her. I can’t even imagine her having small kids, although James and Harry must have been small at some stage. The poor little yokes. So instead I snuggle under the duvet – goose down, very swish – and reach for my phone. Just five more minutes. Then I’ll go ask Marie for a few cuttings from her gardenias. If I can’t charm a mammy, I’ll do the next best thing.
I’ve a total of six Happy New Year texts that must have got clogged up in the midnight rush and filtered through overnight. When will they learn? There’s the usual suspects – Mammy, Carol, Sadhbh, Elaine and Ruby, one from Maj declaring ‘I’m getting married this year’ – and then one from John, which surprises me. ‘Happy New Year’ it says, same as the others. He probably forwarded it to everyone in his contacts list.
I’m checking my email – still nothing from Flo at the Paradise Aqua confirming our rooms – when there’s a sharp rap on the door, and I instinctively pull the duvet up around myself even though I’m wearing my good Harry Potter pyjamas ironed by Mammy.
‘I’m decent!’ I shout.
‘Aisling, it’s Celine. We’re heading out for a walk shortly. See you in the driveway in twenty minutes?’
Great, I escaped the running but now I’m stuck going on a family walk. I would have sworn Celine wasn’t the walking type. I hope I don’t get stuck with her.
‘Er, great. I’ll be down in a minute,’ I call, scrambling out of bed. After a quick shower I close my eyes, spin around and grab the first towel I lay my hand on. It’s a bath sheet. Are they all bath sheets? Even for hair? The luxury of i
t. These people know how to live.
James is standing inside the front door with his hands in his tracksuit pockets when I come down the stairs fifteen minutes later. He looks like he barely even broke a sweat.
‘There you are,’ I whisper. ‘I thought you were still out running and I was half-afraid to leave the room in case I got lost. Or ran into Uncle Bert by myself.’
‘I’m so sorry. I got a work call as soon as I arrived back,’ he says, helping me into a waxed jacket. There’s a rack of them at the front door in a selection of sizes, as well as assorted wellies and walking sticks. ‘There’s a problem on the site. I think it should be okay till I get back, though. I’m just hoping we don’t end up losing a couple of weeks over it.’
‘Is time that tight?’
‘Unbelievably so.’
‘James, you’re not talking about work are you?’ Harry says, coming around the corner and slapping him on the back. ‘You’re supposed to be showing Aisling a good time.’
‘Is Natasia not with you?’ I ask, saying a silent prayer that she hasn’t abandoned me in my hour of need.
‘Still in bed, I’m afraid,’ Harry goes. ‘She has a flight this afternoon and woke up with a migraine.’
‘Who? Your mother?’ It’s George Matthews, striding across the foyer wearing what looks suspiciously like a Sherlock Holmes get-up, complete with hat.
I feel James bristle beside me but he doesn’t say anything.
Harry takes a deep breath. ‘Mum won’t be joining us either.’
‘But she just knocked on my door?’ I say. ‘Is she okay?’
‘She’s fine. She likes to change her mind,’ George bellows. ‘Now, let’s make a move. Aisling, after you.’
‘She’ll actually take a third one too,’ James says, passing me three little bottles of Pinot Greej while the air hostess – although according to Sadhbh I’m supposed to say ‘steward’ – looks on bemused. ‘She’s earned them.’
‘James!’ I protest. ‘The flight’s only an hour and a half.’
He’s right, though, I have earned them. Hook them up to my veins, Deborah, to be quite honest. I thought the walk would never end. George insisted on showing me every inch of property he owns and then gave an impassioned speech about why Ireland was lucky to have been colonised in the first place. A thought crept into my head that maybe Celine had the right idea jumping ship, but I chastised myself right away.
‘You must admit things are better here on the mainland, Aisling,’ he said when I mentioned it’s often very wet in Galway, giving a mini hint that I know something of Celine’s background. But he was barely listening. ‘And what’s this I hear about Potato Park? Is it some kind of joke?’
Well, I took umbrage at that one and I just couldn’t hold my tongue. ‘It’s actually Tayto Park,’ I said in a tone I wouldn’t normally unleash on a parent, especially not a boyfriend’s parent. Fran would have turned me into a pillar of salt if I’d so much as tried it with her. ‘And it has a rollercoaster and a zoo and you can get a guided tour of the real Tayto factory. Like, the actual working one, where Taytos are made.’
‘Aisling, calm down,’ James whispered, pulling my sleeve gently.
‘No, James,’ I said indignantly. ‘Too many people think Tayto Park is a joke but it’s actually one of the country’s top attractions.’ Then I added under my breath, ‘Have a bit of respect’, and I’m pretty sure Mr Matthews heard me too.
The rest of the walk was fairly subdued, save for when Harry spotted a beaver and made an inappropriate joke.
‘It was nice to see your ma – mum before we left,’ I say to James when we’re halfway across the Irish Sea and I’ve had my first few gulps of wine. I didn’t think Celine was going to surface again at all, but then, just as we were putting on our coats, she appeared in another floaty ensemble and pecked us on the cheeks in a cloud of expensive perfume. Marie watched on with a seasoned and unimpressed eye. It was like something out of an old film.
‘What did she mean when she said “you do amuse me” at the party?’ I suspected Celine was talking directly to me when she said that.
‘Oh, she finds relationships amusing. The very idea of monogamy or settling down or … marriage. She finds that all very amusing.’
‘Right.’ I’m truly dumbstruck.
‘I don’t tend to listen to her. She’s not exactly a ringing endorsement for healthy relationships.’
This is the most jaded I’ve ever heard James. His parents seem to truly depress him.
I think back to how it used to be when Daddy was alive. Him and Mammy’s relationship wasn’t perfect – there used to be war over what match to listen to on our aimless Sunday drives – but they were always solid. I don’t mean kissing and hugging and saying ‘I love you’ or any of that craic. I mean the unsaid stuff. The flasks of tea left out during lambing season. The hours he spent sitting outside the supermarket so he could help her with the bags. The dancing around the house to Abba.
‘Actually, I’ve been thinking,’ he says, snapping me out of my trance. ‘I have a proposition for you.’ A proposition? I pour out another little bottle of Pinot. What kind of a proposition? Myself and Mammy awkwardly watched Indecent Proposal on RTÉ One the other night and I start panicking that he wants me to do the deed with one of his friends for a million dollars. Who could it be? Not Uncle Bert, surely …
‘Instead of you going home to Ballygobbard and leaving all your stuff at your house and spending all your time at my house …’
Oh my God.
‘I think you should move in with me,’ he says confidently.
Stunned silence. I’m suddenly very conscious of how tightly I’m holding the plastic cup in my hand and the roaring of nothing in my ears.
‘If you want to, that is,’ he says quickly, his confidence wavering ever so slightly.
I’m so shocked my hands start moving independently, picking up the little wine bottles off my tray table and putting them down again.
‘You spend so much time at mine anyway, and you’re always saying your clothes are all over the place, and we’re not kids. I like having you around, and … I hope you feel the same.’
He finishes his sales pitch and I look up and catch his warm brown eyes, hoping the mild panic isn’t visible in mine as I grapple with my first instinct, which is no, I can’t move in with you. Not after a few months and not without a ring. I always thought there’d be a ring, truth be told.
‘You still haven’t said anything.’
But then I snap out of it. It’s 2019, Aisling. This is what I’ve always wanted, what I never had with John, despite all the years together – a grown-up man to live with. James to live with. He’s practically perfect in every way. The height. The manners. The respect for my tea-bag preferences. Okay, the family is a bit of a hurdle, but they’re in another country and haven’t they made his life hard enough?
‘And if I’m going to stay in Ireland long term …’
This is the first time he’s really said this out loud. He’s dropped suggestions of picking up work in Dublin when Garbally is finished and made noises about this project and that, but he hasn’t actually said anything concrete about staying long, long term. I’ve daydreamed about maybe moving to England with him, but after the couple of days I’ve just had, with the Tayto Park abuse sprinkled on top, I don’t know if I’d be able for it, and I really am so fond of the euro. Home is home.
‘You still haven’t said anything.’
I smile, suddenly flooded with warmth and surprising myself. ‘You’ll have to get a few more mugs.’
By the time we land in Dublin I’ve panicked and calmed down about it around seventeen times. I hardly know him. What if he leaves? But he said he’s staying. When will I do my moussaka farts and my Big Toilets? But sure, he has to do his too. He has no idea how to properly stack a dishwasher. But then again, I am partial to a chair full of clothes in the corner of the room. What will Mammy say?
26
‘No
w will you take a few plates with you? And have you enough pillows?’
Mammy is flat out trying to add items to the latest box of stuff I’m transporting to James’s. I’m not bringing that much – the apartment isn’t that big and is already fairly well kitted out, although I know for a fact there’s no whizzer for doing soup and I’m really trying to get Trim for Tenerife now that it’s January. Colette Green has been posting a lot of New Year, New Me recipes, and I saw another influencer posting about carrots helping with feeling anxious – I’ll give anything a go. After taking a bit of a break for Christmas, I’m back with hen prep and keeping things going at BallyGoBrunch and now I’m moving on top of it all.
‘I’m already overloaded as it is,’ I say, swatting away the stack of tea-towels she’s trying to sneak under my good bedside lamp. I’ve been running around the house for the past hour packing up my last bits and my head feels as full as the box I have on the kitchen table.
‘Has Paul said anything to you, Aisling?’ Mammy’s following me everywhere, tidying everything I lay my hand on. I won’t miss this when I move into James’s place, that’s for sure.
‘I’d say he’s said about six words to me since Stephenses Day, Mammy. You know the way he is.’
‘I saw a sign in Dr Maher’s surgery. For men. About opening up. You wouldn’t see if you could sit him down for a chat, would you? I’ve tried but –’
‘Have you seen my spare phone charger, Mammy? I could have sworn I left it on the counter there. I have to check my email.’
‘I put it up beside your bed, love.’
‘Ah, Mammy!’
To be fair, she barely batted an eyelid when I told her I was moving out.
‘I knew it was on the cards as soon as James said he was staying on, pet,’ she’d said, feeding a bit of brandy to a leftover Christmas cake and wrapping it tightly in parchment. ‘Sure you’re always there. It makes sense.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind, Mammy?’
‘Aren’t you thirty, Aisling? My big girl!’
Once, Twice, Three Times an Aisling Page 19
