What Happened to Us?

by Faith Hogan

  ‘Of course not.’ He said evenly.

  ‘Year’s ago, oh, dear, so many years ago now.’ She shook her head. ‘I would dream about my children, what they would be like, how they’d turn out – you know, fantasize, day dream, silly sort of stuff…’ her cheeks reddened, a bashful pink striding across them, but she took a deep breath. ‘Well… if I’d had a son, in my mind, he’d have turned out just like you.’ Jane pulled away from his embrace, for just a moment, smiled at him in a way that made him feel as though some kind of magnet between them had just squeezed a little higher. This growing bond between them was… well, it wasn’t like anything he’d ever felt before. He pulled her close to him again, his arms about her, as if she was the child and he kissed the top of her head softly.

  ‘That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has said to me in the longest time.’ He said and he wiped a small tear before it ran down his cheek and into her soft grey hair. He thought of his own mother, curiously absent for so many years. Yes, he would have loved a mother like Jane Marchant, a woman who got him on so many levels and asked for nothing in return. They sat like that for a few moments, until Jane heard Carrie’s voice in the corridor outside, greeting nurses with her usual upbeat friendliness.

  ‘Well, what’s going on here?’ Carrie smiled when she put her head around the door. There was an unopened bag of fruit on the table and a stash of newspapers Luke had brought along, as if she’d ever get through the mountain of daily gifts he had already placed on the locker beside her bed.

  ‘We’re just watching the world go by,’ Luke said as he sat back in his chair. Outside, one of the children had fallen and now, there was a flurry about picking him up, setting him straight on the snow again. ‘Families…’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Carrie said and he wondered if she felt as Jane had all those years ago. She would make a terrific mother too. He could imagine her with a brood of children, doling out more love than lectures from a busy house in Dublin’s deepest suburbia. He pulled himself up from his wandering thoughts. Too easily, he found himself slipping into this imaginary life, which of course was madness – he was hardly settling down material. ‘Children,’ she said happily, ‘they’re just the tonic to put a smile on your face on an overcast day like today.’ She turned to watch as the two kids outside began to pelt each other with watery snowballs. There was no sadness about Carrie, no sense of loss or desperation about her. If anything she was quite the opposite, actually, today, she looked better, brighter and happier than he’d ever seen her before – there was something different about her. Perhaps it was her hair? He smiled at her now, he had a feeling it was something much more profound.

  *

  ‘Well,’ Carrie’s mother was positively glowing. ‘I can’t remember when you looked so well.’ She kissed her daughter’s cheeks, relieved perhaps, because they both knew that the break-up with Kevin could have gone either way. She was excited about the success of the blog too. ‘I think it’s a splendid idea. Count me in. Any night – except Wednesdays and Fridays – we’re having extra bridge practice.’ She looked around the bar. They were just having lunch, but her mother liked to make an occasion of it, so she always got her hair done. Today, Carrie had made an extra effort too. ‘Oh, and for the next few weeks I won’t be around for weekends either.’ She smiled at the waitress. ‘I’m doing a yoga retreat.’ She leant across the table and picked a stray rib from Carrie’s shoulder. ‘With the bowling ladies. Did I mention that we’re starting a book club? That’s on Mondays nights.’ For a long time, Carrie had considered that she and her mother had their social lives the wrong way round. Her mother, living off the pension her father had paid into for many years, was making up for years at home with all sorts of activities filling her retirement.

  ‘You don’t have very many nights free so?’ Carrie laughed. It was good to see her mother happy. She looked well, with her newly ‘done’ hair. It was shorter, blonder and sleeker than before. Still, it framed her softening features and added the glamour that had turned many heads back in the day.

  ‘No, I suppose I don’t. But still, Carrie, I’m glad that you’re doing this blog with the restaurants. Apart from anything else, it gives you something to focus on.’

  ‘I’m doing fine, Mum. Really, much better than I thought I would be.’ Truthfully, that was down to a number of different things. It was down to the reviewing and the blog, of course, but there were other things too. Like the fact that she’d managed to clear Kevin out of her home and she was enjoying having the place to herself with only Teddy to think about and he was a much more appreciative housemate. She wouldn’t miss Maureen Mulvey half as much as Maureen would miss her, she knew that for sure. And as for Kevin and Valentina – mostly, when she was thinking straight, she thought they were welcome to each other. She could see him for what he was. She had for a long time.

  ‘What about the wedding in Sligo? Have you decided yet?’

  ‘Didn’t I tell you I have a new mystery man?’ Carrie laughed at the idea of this. ‘The word is out that I have a hot foreign lover hidden away, just waiting to unleash him down the country.’

  ‘And, have you?’

  ‘Of course not. But if all comes to all, I can always arrive on my own and say he had to go back to wherever he doesn’t come from, very urgently.’ It was exactly what she was planning on doing. For now, she was enjoying watching Kevin try to circumvent any talk of new relationships. Perhaps he only half believed the nonsense that Jim had been primed to feed into him when they went for their weekly pint, but that didn’t matter to Carrie. Only half believing was a damn lot better than having Kevin looking at her with smugness or, worse, pity. ‘In the meantime, I’m having the nice suite in the castle. Apparently, there’s a four-poster bed and views across the gardens. Kevin and Valentina are going to have to make do with whatever is left over in B&B accommodation in a town that’s going to be chock-full of wedding-goers in off season. It’s going to be pretty dismal.’ Carrie laughed. ‘At this stage, I’d say, he’d be safer bringing a tent.’

  ‘Well, you know, I’m always up for staying in a castle and I’d promise not to snore or put my cold feet on yours,’ her mother said, running her finger down the wine list. ‘Anyway, by then, who knows, you may have already met the man of your dreams.’

  ‘Oh, Mum, I hardly think so.’ Carrie shook her head. ‘I can’t see them beating down the door for me, can you?’

  ‘Actually, I couldn’t imagine anyone breaking the door down to get Kevin, but there you go.’

  ‘I always told you he had hidden depths.’ They both giggled at that.

  ‘Have you thought about internet dating? Lorna Kennedy does it and she’s been out on lots of dates.’

  ‘Is she still a nymphomaniac?’ Carrie decided on the monkfish.

  ‘She was never a nymphomaniac; really, Carrie, I wish you wouldn’t call her that. She’s just a bit more open-minded than the rest of us.’

  ‘I bet she’s had some very satisfied dates, though.’

  ‘I’m not commenting.’ Her mother’s smile said it all. ‘Do you know, I think I was about your age, when I completely went off having sex with your father?’

  ‘Too much information, Mum.’

  ‘Well, it’s the menopause, though, I mean, there was no HRT for me.’

  ‘Good God, Mum, I’m not ancient and there’s no sign of that yet.’

  ‘Yes, well, it’s different when you’re married.’ The waiter poured a taste of house white and Pamela sipped it, smiling her appreciation before her glass was filled. ‘There’s more of a reason to go off it when you’re married.’

  ‘So, I’m off on Wednesday night and I’ve a booking at Chez Rouge,’ Carrie said abruptly. The only way to avoid hearing about any more of her mother’s love life was to change the subject. ‘I was hoping you’d come.’ Her mother wouldn’t miss out on her bridge night if she was on the pains of death. ‘But…’

  ‘Well, I do have bridge,’ she said, looking about the bar and w
aving across at someone Carrie did not recognise. ‘You know, that’s exactly where you could use the internet dating? How popular would you be, bringing them to the best restaurants in town, and it’d really spice up your reviews. You could post them on the dating site as well as your own.’ Pamela found this hilarious.

  ‘Thanks Mum.’ When she was like this, there really was no talking to her.

  They ate their meal, catching up on the little bits of gossip that would otherwise slip between them.

  ‘I’ll bet you’re glad to be off the hook with Maureen Mulvey,’ her mother said it as if she had mentally counted the benefits to the ending of Carrie’s relationship with Kevin.

  ‘Well…’ Carrie had always been careful not to talk too much about Kevin’s mother, mainly because she’d have been hard-pressed to find five good things to say about the woman. ‘She’s really not as bad as you all make out…’ Carrie felt her voice peter off, knew she had no real belief in the words.

  ‘She is too, and then some. I met her coming out of mass last Sunday…’

  ‘Hold on, you were at mass?’

  ‘No. I wasn’t at mass, she was, but I was on my way to the Lady President’s Day at the Golf Club when I met her. She was getting into a taxi outside the church.’

  ‘Ahh. That sounds more like it.’

  ‘Didn’t you always take her to mass?’ Pamela had laughed her socks off at that one many times over the years.

  ‘For my sins.’

  ‘She was certainly sheepish last Sunday when I met her. Neither Kevin nor Penny have seen fit to step into the role of dutiful mass goer.’

  ‘I really couldn’t blame them, Mum. It’s one of the best things about my weekends now. Sometimes, I just lie in bed and imagine the church bells ringing out.’ Still, Carrie couldn’t help feeling just a little bit sorry for Maureen Mulvey. The woman really could be the devil incarnate, but even she didn’t deserve the self-centred children she’d ended up with.

  ‘Well, she’s still there. She could hardly meet my eyes, but I was very civil. Well, there’s no point, is there?’ Pamela smiled. ‘Do you think she knows?’

  ‘About Valentina? No, I wouldn’t think so, he’s as spineless now as ever.’

  ‘Yes, but Valentina doesn’t sound like she’ll let him off the hook too easily.’

  ‘No, Mum. There’s no way,’ Carrie whispered and for a moment, she felt like she’d been betrayed again. How could Kevin replace her so fully, so completely, so quickly? It made it all a thousand times worse and she knew again that she still had a long way to go to get over it all. No matter how sorry she might feel for Maureen Mulvey, there was still too much hurt there to get drawn in and used all over again.

  *

  There was no point arguing, but Jane had a feeling that all the surprises in the world would not change how she felt about going back to The Marchant Inn.

  ‘Seriously, he’s put a lot of work into it,’ Carrie said, ‘at least humour him.’ She shook her head and Jane wondered exactly what kind of work could take the anxiousness from her stomach every time she thought about spending another night alone in the pub. Only the bundle of brochures buried deep in her bag felt like they might be the answer to this rising fear in her. ‘He’s come in here every day for the last week, honestly, I’d never have imagined the place could feel so…’ Carrie pulled up on the path outside.

  ‘Right, well, I suppose, I have to go somewhere,’ Jane sighed, although there was no missing the shine of the stained glass or the gleam of the brasses on the freshly painted front door.

  She didn’t expect much, but when she stepped into the pub, rather than everything feeling smaller, greyer, less than she imagined, it actually felt better. There was an enveloping warmth that welcomed her as soon as she stepped through the front door. The oak of the bar counter gleamed with a fresh stain of varnish, the glasses shone, even the ceiling had brightened with the benefit of a good washing. But it was at either end of the bar, a roaring fire lit in each of the Victorian grates, which seemed to make the biggest difference. The little dog Carrie had told her so much about lay curled up before one, as if he had always been here and raised his head lazily to greet her, before laying it easily against the fender once more. At the counter, Manus’s friends, a half a dozen of them, her only regulars, sat waiting for her and at the end of the row was Luke, smiling proudly.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ she said as she felt tears sting behind her eyes. She was not sure if they were tears of joy or some other emotion she could not put a name on.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ Luke asked and he made his way behind the counter where one of her familiar mugs stood bleached squeaky clean beside the kettle.

  She settled onto one of the freshly scrubbed stools, looking about the bar so she could take in the changes.

  ‘You’ve transformed it,’ she said eventually to Luke. ‘I mean, it’s as if you’ve brought the whole place back to life.’ She wiped the tears from her eyes, but they were tears of pleasure now. She’d never expected anyone to do so much for her, even to have this lovely welcoming committee organised for her arrival. ‘I’m just…’ And of course, what she wanted to say was ‘speechless’, but again her emotions got the better of her.

  It was probably one of the nicest afternoons she had spent in years. But what is it they say? All good things must come to an end. Once everyone started to leave, she felt that terrible weight of loneliness and fear descending on her again, so when she closed the front door she knew she’d be checking the bolts a dozen times as the evening wore on. She was sorry that Luke had not taken up her offer to stay in the spare room, but she could understand his reluctance, after all, he was a free agent. What would he want to be surrounded by her memories for? So she didn’t ask him again, instead she hoped that maybe the excitement of the day might be enough to send her into a deep and undisturbed peaceful sleep.

  *

  Quietly, they were all just a little relieved when Carrie suggested they meet up in The Sea Pear for the hen night get-together. Melissa was hardly a party animal – of all their friends, she was probably the most reserved. The idea of a drunken trawl with straw willies or wearing L-plates over skimpy outfits was her idea of hell rather than a good time. They had agreed the date months ago, Kevin would prepare the food, but they would close the restaurant and bring in music for the night. It would be a girls’ only night, with Melissa’s friends and family filling up a long table that Carrie and Andrew had arranged down the centre of the dining room.

  ‘This is so lovely,’ Melissa said when she arrived. Carrie had pulled out all the stops. She’d taken down the Christmas lights and found every photograph she had of Melissa, then had them blow up as large as she could manage and pinned them along the walls so it was a gallery of happy, smiling images for her friend. ‘You really shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.’

  ‘Well, Kevin had something to do with it all too…’ Carrie nodded back towards the kitchen where Kevin had prepared a five-course meal for everyone. ‘It’s all hands on deck back there now, but he’ll come out and say hello later.’

  ‘I can’t quite believe how civilised you’re being about it all,’ Melissa confided.

  ‘Oh dear God, you’ve faded away,’ Melissa’s mother stood stock-still at the door, taking in Carrie, but her eyes were shining with approval.

  ‘Hardly, but…’

  ‘You look amazing, don’t mind Mammy,’ Melissa said, putting her arms around her mother’s shoulder and guiding her towards the top of the table. ‘Although, if you keep going like this, we might have to get that dress altered,’ she smiled at Carrie, admiring her. ‘Honestly, you’re transformed, new hair, new figure… new man. A good old overhaul seems to have a lot going for it.’

  ‘Don’t tell Kevin,’ Carrie leaned in conspiratorially, ‘but Teddy has as much to do with how I’m looking and feeling as anything or anyone else these days.’ They all laughed at that, but it was probably nearer the truth than any of them might imagine.


  ‘Is the Colombian concubine here?’ Anna drawled.

  ‘Stop it, you have to behave yourself now,’ Melissa said. ‘Is she though?’ They were all dying to catch a glimpse of Valentina. It was understandable; they’d heard so much, mainly from Kevin, through Ben and Jim, but in the beginning, when she was too raw to help herself, Carrie had vented too and now she wondered what they really expected her to be like.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not, she’s taken the night off, I think maybe it would be just a bit too much for her…’ Carrie smiled. The truth was, she’d rostered Valentina off, the last thing she wanted was to waste a night with her friends talking about Kevin’s new woman. She could think of nothing worse than watching Valentina sashay about the restaurant while her friends tried to make all the right noises about imperfections that clearly, to Carrie’s eyes at least, simply were not there.

  ‘Well, I suppose, it would have been a bit uncomfortable for her,’ Melissa said, then she smiled. ‘Of course, she’ll have to face us some time.’

  ‘Is Kevin bringing her to the wedding then?’ Carrie asked. He was hardly the most socially commanding man, hurtling through the uncomfortable introductions would be enough to make anyone cringe, never mind Kevin.

  ‘Well, I think so. There’s been no definite word either way,’ Melissa said.

  ‘He’ll need to get his skates on,’ Anna said, already a little worse for wear thanks to the cocktails Andrew was concocting from the drinks cabinet. ‘Has he got a room booked, do you think or is he…’ she hiccupped, ‘maybe they’ll sleep in the car.’ Everyone giggled at this notion, there was no one less likely to sleep in the car than Kevin – or at least that’s what most people would think, until they met Valentina.

  ‘Well, they won’t be staying in the hotel,’ Melissa said, bending down to pass a length of beef steak to Teddy who was moving diligently around the table to maximise his chances of securing treats. ‘I’ve had a bugger of a job trying to get a double room for one of the girls from work, and even then, I have a feeling they’ll be essentially sleeping in a broom cupboard.’