by Olivia Ryan
‘Thank you, dear. I do feel better these days.’ She looked away, and then added, quietly, ‘I’ve got my self-respect back.’
I gave her a hug.
‘Well done. We’re all very proud of you.’
‘Oh, but I haven’t achieved anything. It isn’t over. It’s an ongoing battle, you see. You know what they say: One day at a time.’
‘And you’re achieving that. No wonder you feel better.’
The hen evening was at a pub near Emily’s place, two days before the wedding. I drove over during the day and left Thomas with Mum. It seemed strange, getting dressed up to go out, putting on make-up and high heels and pretending I was still the same young, free, single girl I was before the second of January, when in fact I was now the mother of this tiny boy who depended on me completely. Gone were the days when I could roll home drunk in the early hours of the morning and spend the next day in bed with a hangover. I smiled as I bent to kiss my sleeping baby son goodbye. I wouldn’t change a thing!
There was only a small group of us in the pub: Emily; her mum and cousin; Karen and Suze; three or four of Emily’s friends from work; Jude, Lisa and myself. Emily had been determined that this would be a quiet, low-key evening.
‘Katie’s weekend in Dublin was more than enough for anyone!’ she said jokingly.
‘This is more like Mum’s famous hen night at Southend!’ commented Lisa, which was greeted by a chorus of groans.
‘Not funny,’ I pointed out. ‘Not now we know how it ended up.’
‘That’s true. Your poor mum,’ said Emily sadly.
‘Not so poor, now, actually,’ smiled Lisa.
‘No,’ I agreed. ‘She looks so much better – happier – she says she’s got back her self respect now that she’s not drinking.’
For a moment everyone looked down warily at the wine glasses in their hands. I chuckled and took another gulp of my orange-juice.
‘It doesn’t do you any good, you know, girls!’ I teased.
‘Will you listen to the cheek of her, sanctimonious madam, just because she can’t have a glass or two herself!’ exclaimed Jude.
‘Maybe we should all cut down a bit?’ pondered Lisa.
‘Nah!’ retorted Emily, knocking back the contents of her glass and slamming it down on the table. ‘Not tonight! Tonight’s my hen night and we’re all getting sozzled. Apart from Katie, of course. Can’t have my godchild being breastfed second-hand white wine, can we, now?’
‘And anyway,’ added Lisa after everyone had followed suit and emptied their glasses, ‘there’s more to the new perky, happy Mum than meets the eye.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘You really haven’t noticed, have you! For God’s sake – I know you’re all caught up in the throes of new motherhood …’
‘And new lurve-hood!’ added Emily with a glint in her eye.
‘But you must be going in and out of Mum’s house with your eyes and your ears closed!’
‘Why? What’s going on?’
‘She dresses up to the nines to go out to her AA meetings.’
‘So? I’m pleased for her. It’s good that she’s taking an interest in her appearance again, now she’s stopped drinking.’
‘And she’s on the phone all the time, giggling and going all pink and excited like a teenager.’
‘Yes. I had noticed that. I’m glad she’s in touch with her friends again.’
‘Katie! She’s got a boyfriend.’
My mum – a boyfriend?
‘Close your mouth, Katie! You’ll start dribbling in a minute!’ laughed Karen.
‘But – I can’t believe it!’ I gulped. ‘I mean – she hates men! She never wants anything to do with them.’
‘Well, she seems to have changed her mind since she met Bob,’ said Lisa meaningfully.
‘Who the bloody hell’s Bob?’
And what are his intentions towards my mother?
‘He’s a member of her group. A widower. He seems really nice.’
‘You’ve met him?’ I stared at Lisa accusingly. ‘You never said!’
‘Look, I’ve only just met him the other day – and only because he happened to call round when I was there. She hasn’t said anything to you yet because she thinks you’ve got enough on your plate with the baby. Didn’t want to worry you.’
‘Well, it has worried me. I mean, what do we know about him? How old is he? Where does he live? What did his wife die of? He could have bumped her off for all we know!’
‘Katie!’ exclaimed Lisa, laughing out loud. ‘Give it a rest! She’s dating this guy – not marrying him! Let her be happy!’
‘Lisa’s right, Katie,’ Jude soothed me. ‘Sure we all have to take a chance on being happy, do we not, so?’
I looked around at them all: my lovely bride-to-be, Emily, who was taking her chance in getting married, despite my experience, despite all the statistics about break-ups and separations, divorces and misery; my oldest friend Jude, who seemed like a different person since she’d fallen for Conor; my sister Lisa, who’d taken the plunge and got out of her loveless marriage; they were all making a bid for happiness in one way or another. Why shouldn’t Mum do the same?
‘Here’s to happiness,’ I said, raising my orange-juice glass. I smiled around the table at them all. ‘Here’s to friends, and families … and lovers!’
‘Especially the lovers!’ muttered Jude with a growl, making us all laugh again.
‘And for God’s sake, somebody, get another round in – how can we drink a toast with empty glasses!’ said Suze irritably. ‘Is this a hen party or a fucking wake?’
We’ve got to the part where the vicar tells the groom he can kiss the bride. They’re smiling at each other in a way that somehow makes me ache inside. Will that ever be me? Will I ever actually do it one day – walk up that aisle, make those promises, walk back out of the church arm in arm with my own new husband the way Emily is now, grinning at the congregation, happy and secure and married?
I don’t know. I think it’s still what I want – eventually. It’s still the ultimate dream – one man, one love, for the rest of my life. I catch Harry’s eye again as I follow the bride past the end of his pew. He’s smiling at me and I feel a rush of love for him. Maybe, after all, it’ll come true for me. It happens in the books I read; it can happen in real life – and perhaps, you know, I’m still a romantic at heart. And what a bizarre tale it would be to tell my grandchildren one day: how I met my future husband – on my own hen weekend!
