Hopes & Dreams

by Claudia Carroll

  ‘Jeez, do you really think so?’

  ‘Honestly. He was looking at you adoringly. Like … like …’ I scramble around for a metaphor. ‘Like a cute little … seal pup.’

  ‘Yeah,’ says Maggie. ‘That you want to clobber.’

  As the three of us head for Matt’s car, I turn to Sharon. ‘Something has to be done about her. She’s been in a bad mood for about twenty years now and I’m not sure how much more of it that I can take. The nicer I try to be to her, the worse she gets.’

  ‘I know,’ Sharon nods, as Matt goes to link her arm and she shoves him off. ‘But what the hell do we do?’

  *

  Anyway, we drive to Hannah’s house, which by car is only about five minutes from our street. Although neither Sharon nor I have ever been here before, you’d know we had the right house from about a mile off. Dozens of helium balloons are hanging off the gateposts, and the tiny driveway is completely stuffed with cars. It’s still early but already the party is looking wild and raucous. As we park and make our way to the front door, we can already see the front garden heaving with kids, all playing screaming fighting with each other.

  For a split second my thoughts go back to my old life; I remember a children’s do Eva and Nathaniel had for their twins where they’d hired an actual string quartet to play and the kids just looked bored off their heads while the adults stood around sipping Bellinis and talking about money. It was so sedate compared to this; a real, old-fashioned knees-up where even this early in the evening, you can see most of the grown-ups slowly starting to get arseholed drunk. I know where I’d far rather be too, I think, gratefully giving Sharon’s arm an encouraging squeeze. Among real friends, thanks very much.

  Hannah’s mum, Mrs Hayes, answers the door and it takes a second for her to recognise us.

  ‘Oh my God, Jessie? Is that you under all the red hair? Sure I’d hardly know you! Hannah will be absolutely thrilled you came by. She’s upstairs changing the baby, but the minute she’s down I’ll let her know you’re here. And Sharon, I barely recognise you, you’re looking so well and so SLIM! Come in, come in and welcome!’

  We introduce Matt and she’s so warm and lovely to him as well that it instantly takes me back to when I was a teenager, permanently lounging around her house. Never once did this generous, kind-hearted lady ever make me feel like I was just another kitten sharing the litter tray. At a time when money was tight for everyone, I think she must have guessed that things were rough at home for me and just automatically included me in all her own family meals and activities with no questions asked, bless her.

  ‘Mrs Hayes, I’m so sorry I haven’t been round to see you before this,’ I make a point of saying, feeling the apology is necessary.

  ‘Don’t be daft, Jessie. We’re old friends, aren’t we? And old friends don’t stand on ceremony. Steve tells me you’re doing a great job down at the radio station; but you’ll have to play a request for me, won’t you? Promise?’

  ‘Faithfully promise,’ I smile at her, thinking how lucky he and Hannah were growing up with a mum like this.

  ‘“Yesterday” by the Beatles will do me grand, love. I’m sixty-five years young next Monday, so if you could play it for me then, it would really make my day.’

  ‘Consider it done.’

  Other guests arrive hot on our heels and Mrs Hayes turns to greet them, so Sharon, Matt and I work our way across the packed living room then on through to the kitchen. There’s at least three generations of families here, all having a blast. I walk past a teenager who looks barely old enough to drink saying to his mum, ‘I swear I’m not pissed! I only had nine!’ Then I see a woman about my age breastfeeding a kid who looks old enough to eat Smiley Burgers. Funny being at a christening when you’re single and childless; it’s like the life you never had flashes in front of your eyes.

  ‘OK, there’s the bar, straight ahead, twelve o’clock,’ Sharon says, picking her steps across a train set that a gang of kids are fighting over on the floor. Just then, Matt reaches out to take her hand. Which again, she shakes off. I’m not making any comment. Just noticing, that’s all.

  When we get to the kitchen, it’s even more jammers, this time with people battling over the food laid out on the kitchen counter. I’m just about to suggest we go out to the back garden when a hand grabs me by the shoulder.

  Steve.

  ‘Hey, you made it, didn’t think you were coming!’ he says bending down from his ridiculous height to warmly peck me on the cheek. There’s a very tall, pretty brunette at his side with poker straight hair down to her bum which she keeps swishing over her shoulders, and trendy square glasses that make her look like an architect. He introduces her as Elaine but she doesn’t shake hands, just hovers proprietorially at his shoulder, clutching a glass of white wine. So I introduce Matt to Steve, then point out Sharon. It’s hysterical, his eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets when he cops a load of her.

  ‘Wow, Sharon? Is that you? I mean … you’re looking … I mean, you must have lost … and the hair …’ Then he just laughs at himself in that permanently good-humoured way that he has. ‘What I’m actually trying to say is that it’s good seeing you again and nice to meet you too, Matt. Now what’ll you all have to drink? In case you hadn’t noticed, Hannah has me doing barman for the night. All tips gratefully received.’

  After taking our orders, he tells us to go on out to the back garden where it’s a bit less crowded and that he’ll bring our drinks to us there. So out we troop and bump straight into Mrs Foley and Mrs Brady, sitting like twin sentinels on two plastic garden chairs. The pair of them give Matt a very obvious once over, then demand to know who he is. Sharon stays to introduce Matt and is clearly having a great time seeing the looks on their faces when they clock that she’s on an actual date. With a normal enough looking fella, to boot.

  I let her have her moment and move on, trying to find somewhere for us all to sit. Eventually I spot two free kitchen stools at the very bottom of the garden, so I leave them empty for the others and plonk down on a kid’s swing seat, glad of a bit of peace and quiet after the mayhem of the house. Steve’s out a few minutes later balancing a trayful of drinks which he hands out to Sharon and Matt, then spotting me, ambles down the garden in that long-legged way he has, sitting on the spare swing seat beside me. We chat a bit about work and he asks me how I’m feeling about going live on air next week. Can’t wait, I tell him, enjoying the drink, the late summer evening sun and the conversation.

  ‘We’re all very proud of you down at the station, you know,’ he smiles.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Oh, you know. Coming from the height you were at professionally, to a late-night/early-morning slot on a small local radio station. Plenty of celebs would have had a complete diva fit, but not you. You just bounced in, knuckled under and got on with the gig. No airs and graces at all. I really like that. We all do.’

  ‘Are you kidding me? Steve, you’re the guy who rescued me from flipping Smiley Burgers, chopping gherkins and asking bratty kids if they’d like fries with that. As far as I’m concerned, if you’d offered me a job washing the windows at Radio Dublin, I’d have considered it a step up in the world.’

  ‘You seem so fine about what happened. I’m not sure I’d be as cool about the whole thing as you are.’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t. Not for a long, long time. But I am now. At least, I’m getting there. And getting this job has been a big part of that, let me tell you.’

  Suddenly he gets serious. ‘You know, Jessie, I saw that documentary about you. That A Day in the Life thing. It was horrendous and I’m not the only person who thought so. Did you ever consider the possibility that you might have been set up?’

  I shake my head and smile. ‘Listen to you, you’ve been watching waaay too many conspiracy movies.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he grins. ‘But think about it and ask yourself, was there anyone who stood to gain by getting you out of the way?’

  ‘Oliver Stone him
self couldn’t have come up with a better concoction.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘It’s just, watching that programme, there was something not quite right about the whole thing.’

  ‘Steve, the only person who set me up was myself. Believe me, I’ve been over and over it a thousand times in my mind and the only conclusion I can come to is that, just like in the fable, I flew too close to the sun on borrowed wings and paid the ultimate price. I learnt a huge lesson though. The hard way, the way I seem to learn all my lessons in life, but there you go.’

  ‘Jessie Woods, you’re without doubt the spunkiest, bravest girl I know.’ He’s looking at me a bit more intently now.

  ‘Not a bit of it,’ I laugh off the compliment. ‘Just getting on with things.’

  ‘I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you though. There were so many shots of you in that incredible mansion you used to live in. To go from that to living back at home …’

  ‘Sleeping on the sofa, by the way …’

  ‘With Maggie and Sharon … although I have to say, Sharon’s changed so much since you came back into her life. It’s like she’s a different person. Not just her appearance, she’s … I dunno … softer somehow. If that makes any sense.’

  ‘She’s been terrific. Throughout all of this. She even apologised for the things she said about me in the documentary.’

  ‘Good,’ he nods, looking into the middle distance now, where some kids are having a water fight with the garden hose. ‘Because some of what was said … well, no matter now. All I’m clumsily trying to say is that you’ve had quite a journey in the last few months and I think you’re incredible to have come out fighting.’ A sideways glance at me, then he qualifies it. ‘That is … what I mean to say is, I think you’re handling it incredibly well.’

  ‘Well there you go. That’s my life story,’ I grin back. ‘I’m the original Celtic Tiger cub who fell to earth.’

  ‘But who lived to tell the tale.’

  In the distance, just coming out of the house is Elaine, the swishy-haired girl, head swivelling around looking for Steve. She spots him and strides down to where we’re sitting, not saying much, just glaring at me through the architect glasses as if to say ‘Push off, babe, your time’s up.’ Unsure of what the story is between them, I leave them alone, with the excuse I’m going inside to look for Hannah.

  I eventually find her in the TV room and just seeing her again after all these years brings so many memories flooding back. She’s the same old Hannah though. Tall and lean like Steve, with blonde hair (natural, natural, natural, used to make me sick with jealousy years ago) and not a single gram of baby weight on her.

  ‘If somebody doesn’t turn off that fecking Beyoncé Knowles song, I’ll throw the CD player out the window!’ she yells at her husband Paul.

  ‘Ah, come on, it’s catchy!’ says Paul.

  ‘Yeah? So is thrush.’

  Definitely the same old Hannah. And if I’d thought it would be awkward meeting her for the first time after so many years, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Thank God.

  ‘Sorry,’ she says distractedly. ‘I hate that song. Gets into your head and stays there for three days. This is the first chance I’ve had in twenty-four hours to sit down and relax with a glass of wine, and that crap song isn’t going to ruin it for me.’

  ‘It’s good to see you, Hannah,’ I say, clinking glasses with her. ‘And congratulations again. Your daughter is a little beauty. Just like her mum.’

  ‘Tell that to her father. I had a fight with Paul on the way to the church because he said the baby looked like Khrushchev. Then he tried to qualify it by saying that ALL babies look like Russian premiers. There was nearly a riot in the car.’

  I snort laughing, visualising the scene only too well.

  ‘Well, it’s lovely to see Paul too. You must be thrilled to have him home safe.’

  Paul’s a cadet in the army and only just back from a tour of duty in Chad. Hasn’t changed a bit since I last saw him though; still wiry and muscley, with absolutely no neck at all. Just a head, then shoulders.

  ‘Good to see you too, Jess,’ she smiles, collapsing exhaustedly onto the sofa beside me. ‘I wasn’t even sure whether you’d come or not. I know you’ve been lying low lately. And I don’t blame you either.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Hannah, I really am. I should have called months ago, but half the time I could barely haul myself out of bed.’

  ‘Can’t have been easy. Especially for someone like you.’

  I just look at her, wondering what she means, someone like me?

  ‘You were always so driven, I mean,’ she says, by way of explanation. ‘As long as I’ve known you, which is a long, long time, babe. Right the way through primary school, right up till we finished secondary school, even back in the days when we first started sharing that poxy flat in Beggar’s Bush together. You were just consumed with ambition. You wanted a TV career so badly. Remember when you first got the job as a runner? It was like you’d been given the golden ticket to paradise. You were like a greyhound, out of the traps and gone.’

  I’d forgotten that Hannah was such a straight talker. A tell-it-like-it-is kind of gal.

  ‘Oh God, was I really that bad? How did you not murder me? I must have been a nightmare to live with!’

  ‘No, you weren’t at all,’ she grins. ‘But then, I knew where you were coming from. I knew how tough things were for you at home and how much you wanted to get out and get away. I don’t even blame you for airbrushing your past, so you could reinvent yourself as this hot, tellie-tottie babe. You worked hard and made a huge success of yourself and no one could have been more proud of you than me.’

  And that’s when her tone completely changes. Now there’s hurt in her voice, that wasn’t there before. I brace myself for what’s coming.

  ‘But, Jessie, all I’m asking is … did you have to airbrush me out of your life too? After everything we’d been through together? When I got married and had my first baby and then moved back here, be honest, Jess, and admit it. You just stopped calling me. The odd Christmas card, but that was pretty much it.’

  The guilt feels like heartburn. ‘Hannah, I’m so sorry …’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, I do understand to an extent. I mean, you had your life and I had mine. And I know once you’ve had a baby, it’s very hard for your single friends to understand how different life is. Would have been nice to hear from you once in a while though, that’s all I’m saying. But you were all pally with that Emma Sheridan by then; you had new mates to play with, new places to go.’

  ‘I still am friends with Emma. In fact, she’s about the only person from my TV days who still bothers to pick up the phone to me.’

  ‘Hmm,’ says Hannah, unimpressed.

  Another memory from years back resurfaces. Hannah never liked Emma. I’d completely forgotten. When they first met, all those years ago, they just didn’t get on. ‘Too sweet to be wholesome,’ Hannah always used to say about her. One of the few things she turned out to be wrong about. Although she’s right about pretty much everything else. I did airbrush Hannah out of my life and it was a horrible thing to do. I just figured our lives had drifted apart and that we’d nothing in common any more. And, to my shame, I assumed Hannah felt the same way too. Tell you something; if there’s one big life lesson the past few months have taught me, it’s this: in a single word … humility.

  ‘Well,’ says Hannah, topping up our glasses of wine, ‘if Madam Emma has stood by you, then I suppose that’s to her credit. But you know, even when she’s on TV, I could never take to her. Too much of a cold fish for me. She’s one of those women that never puts a foot wrong and I can totally see why they had to pair you up with her. You livened things up and weren’t afraid to fall flat on your arse, then laugh it off. Unlike Miss Ice Queen, goody-two-shoes.’

  ‘I can’t believe you used to watch the show …’

  ‘Are you kidding me? Of course I did! I’ve follo
wed your whole career, Jessie. Kind of made me feel like I was keeping in touch with you. I’d see you on TV and read all about you in the papers, going to this party and that glamorous do. And I’d think to myself, well she certainly got what she wanted.’

  ‘It certainly didn’t last though,’ I say, knocking back a mouthful of wine. ‘The minute things started to unravel for me, every single one of those people vanished into thin air.’

  ‘I know and that must have been tough for you. Especially with what happened with Sam Hughes.’

  I’ve no answer for that one. Besides, I think you’re only allowed a certain number of tears per guy and I’ve already used mine up.

  ‘Sorry, Jessie,’ she says, a bit more gently now. ‘I know how much he meant to you. Remember how, just after you first met him in Channel Six, we used to scroll through all the papers together to see if we could find any mention of him? Then years later, when I read that you were actually with him, I couldn’t believe it. You just went after your goal and somehow you made it happen. I thought wow, Cinderella finally got her Prince Charming.’

  ‘For all the good it did me,’ I smile at her wryly. ‘I suppose I’m a walking cautionary tale. You know, one of those people that you point at and say, be careful what you wish for. But I’m a very different person now.’

  ‘No,’ she says shaking her head firmly, with the killer insight only someone you’ve grown up with can possess. ‘You were a different person then. You used to be so hungry for it all. So driven and obsessed with shaking off your past and getting on in the world. But you know something? You’ve changed. You’re calmer now, more grounded, more realistic about life. In fact, I prefer you like this.’

  ‘You know something? I prefer me like this too.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘And a huge big hi to all our listeners out there, hope you’re having a great night wherever you are and whatever you’re doing. This is Jessie Woods, at The Midnight Hour, saying welcome to the show and stay tuned. The lines are open if you fancy ringing in for a chat but before we get started, I’d like to play a very special request for a very special lady. Mrs Mary Hayes of Whitehall is celebrating her birthday today, so now that it’s exactly one minute past midnight, we at Radio Dublin want to be the very first to wish you a fantastic day. And so, especially for you, here’s the Beatles singing your favourite song, “Yesterday”.’