Grown Ups

by Marian Keyes

  ‘We’re making memories.’ Sammie was already taking photos.

  Christ, not another one. Living’s such hard work, these days. Every moment has to be Instagram worthy.

  Ed was slowly emerging from the passenger seat of his car; he and Johnny locked eyes and laughed. Lurching across the gravel, they half fell into each other’s arms.

  ‘You’re so white you’re luminous.’

  ‘That’s an improvement. I was as green as a mint Aero earlier, according to Vinnie. Should we be doing this?’

  ‘Kill or cure.’

  ‘Right. Up we go.’

  Johnny fell into step with Dilly because she was the slowest. He could pretend that he was hanging back to make sure she was safe. TJ walked alongside them. Then a stray-seeming dog came and kept them company. It was a lovely dog, part spaniel, part … lurcher, maybe. Friendly, bright-eyed, keen to play.

  To his alarm, Johnny felt, once again, tearful. The uncomplicated love of an animal was a beautiful thing. If only he was at home in Dublin with Camilla and Bubs …

  As if she’d read his mind, TJ said, ‘I wish Camilla and Bubs were here.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Will they be okay with McGurk?’

  Johnny had his doubts. He had a vision of McGurk with his clipboard, punishing the dogs for some tiny infraction. ‘Course!’ He was all reassurance. ‘McGurk is very reliable.’

  ‘McGurk’s a weirdo,’ TJ said. ‘He doesn’t like animals.’

  ‘He doesn’t like people either, but he likes being reliable. The dogs will be grand with him.’

  ‘I think I prefer animals to people,’ TJ said.

  ‘I think I do too.’

  ‘When I grow up, I might be a farmer. Or a vet.’

  ‘Or a zoo-keeper.’ Johnny suddenly realized that that was his unfulfilled life ambition.

  ‘Dad, no! Zoos are bad! It’s cruel to keep wild beasts locked up!’

  ‘Unethical!’ Bridey cried, from further up the climb, her sharp admonishment floating back on the warm air.

  A wave of bleakness broke over Johnny’s head. Once again he felt as bare and broken as when he’d woken up. There was nothing good in the world. He wanted to be a zookeeper and for it to be ethical but it was too late.

  By some miracle, they all made it to the top. The view from the peak was jaw-dropping. The sky above blazed a vivid azure while, far below them, the numerous islands scattered across Clew Bay popped brilliant green.

  The mood was celebratory and Jessie began organizing the picnic. ‘Saoirse, Bridey, get out the rosé!’

  Sammie was clicking away on her phone, taking selfies with Ferdia. ‘It’s so beautiful up here’, Johnny heard her say. ‘Thanks for this, Ferd.’ She touched his face tenderly. They stood staring into each other’s eyes, for a long moment. She was the one to move away.

  Johnny hoped Ferdia didn’t fall to bits when she was gone. He was enough fecking trouble already. But he was young, and young men didn’t fall to bits. He’d never fallen to bits at Ferdia’s age. He didn’t know what it was to have his heart broken. No one had ever come close. Well, not until Rory had taken Jessie. Then he’d known all about it.

  ‘Nell,’ a gentle voice whispered. ‘Nell.’

  A small hand touched her aching back and Nell woke up.

  She’d been asleep on the floor of the bedroom.

  ‘You were sleeping,’ Dilly said helpfully. ‘You must of needed it.’

  She must have. She’d woken at around two in the morning, cold with fear that she’d overstretched herself and her talent.

  Liam was asleep beside her but she’d prefer to talk to Garr. She went out to the deck to ring him – and stumbled over spoilt-brat Ferdia.

  She hadn’t gone back to sleep again until early afternoon, when she’d lain down beside her little set and fallen into a dream-free blankness.

  ‘How was your day?’ Dilly asked.

  Shite, but she couldn’t tell that to an eight-year-old. It had become clear that she wasn’t an experienced enough designer to pull this off. The gig was already lost.

  Even talking to Garr hadn’t helped: he’d counselled that it was too late to junk her work and start again. ‘On Sunday evening, I’ll do an all-nighter with you,’ he’d promised. ‘You might still pull this off. Keep the faith.’

  ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ Dilly asked.

  ‘Oh. Ah. No, I’ll have a coffee.’

  ‘But it’s five o’clock, you’re allowed.’

  ‘Coffee is grand.’ Nell got to her feet and together they wandered into the kitchen.

  ‘I missed you today,’ Dilly said.

  ‘Missed you too.’

  ‘But you had to work. Want to blow some bubbles?’

  ‘Sure.’

  They sat on the deck, Nell sipping coffee, her eyes and muscles savouring the rest.

  Dilly blew bubbles with little success. ‘It’s too windy. Here, you have a go.’

  Nell blew a long, graceful ribbon of bubbles out into the salty air. They bobbed here and there, little iridescent balls, before popping in the sky above them.

  ‘That’s amazing. Do it again!’

  It really was so relaxing, Nell thought, just sitting there, watching the waves, sipping coffee, having her aching back rubbed by Dilly. ‘How was your day?’ she asked.

  ‘Glorious.’

  ‘Glorious?’ She was funny.

  ‘Glorious. Except Daddy had too much pink wine and then he was crying because he couldn’t be a zookeeper. It was sad.’

  A clatter of footsteps heralded the arrival of TJ and Bridey.

  ‘You sneaked off!’ TJ accused Dilly. ‘We were all coming to see Nell!’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Dilly said solemnly. ‘It must of slipped my mind.’

  ‘Are you going to this party tonight?’ TJ asked Nell.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘We’re getting a babysitter,’ Bridey said. ‘From the town. A raw-boned chit of a girl, her whey-white skin sprinkled with cinnamon freckles.’

  ‘She’s so embarrassing,’ TJ said. ‘The crap she talks. Nell, why can’t you be our babysitter?’

  There was a commotion behind them as Jessie appeared. She looked a little wild-eyed. ‘Bunnies, hop it. I need to speak to Nell.’

  ‘Is she in trouble?’ Dilly gasped.

  ‘Please, just go. Back to the house.’

  Frightened by Jessie’s evident agitation, they scarpered.

  ‘What did you say to Ferdia?’ Jessie asked Nell.

  Cold dread slid through her.

  ‘About me, Johnny and Rory.’

  ‘Jessie, I didn’t mean to interfere –’

  ‘Stop. No. Listen. He came and found me. Just now.’ She looked manic. ‘Said he was sorry. He was only a kid when Johnny and I … Down in Errislannan, he’d hear Izzy and Keeva hinting at stuff. He was too young to understand that they were hurt and just saying things.’

  So she hadn’t messed up horribly?

  ‘He’s been angry with me for years.’ Jessie couldn’t stop talking. ‘It’s been hard to live with. I was able to tell him how much I loved Rory. He said he knows that now. I couldn’t have imagined … Just, thank you, thank you. I’m very … you know … You’re great. We love you. Everyone loves you. Thanks. Right. See you at the dinner from Hell.’

  FIFTY

  ‘Nervous fecking wreck.’ Jessie hurtled across the restaurant to Cara. ‘That’s me. If there’s one single thing wrong with the food tonight, I’ll get the blame.’

  Poor Jessie, Cara thought. Tonight would be grim for them all, but extra so for Jessie: Canice and Rose had commandeered the posh restaurant outside town for their special evening, then demanded Jessie bag them Ireland’s most in-demand on-telly chef to cook for them.

  ‘Something’s bound to go wrong,’ Jessie said. ‘And I’ll be keelhauled. Whatever the hell that is.’ She plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing tray. ‘Drink up. If we survive this, I’ll buy us all new livers. There’s N
ell, grab her.’

  Nell was wearing the sexy, aubergine-coloured body-con dress she’d brought to Kerry, but not worn, a couple of months back.

  ‘You look uh-maaaay-zing. And heels! Look at you in heels!’

  ‘I can’t walk in them.’ Nell laughed. ‘Liam says I look like a builder.’

  ‘Don’t mind him,’ Jessie said. ‘Oh, sweet Christ, Rose is in da house. Cluster close to me, daughters-in-law of doom.’

  Cara slid a glance across the room. Rose was glammed up in a purple taffeta gown, not that Rose would ever describe the shade with as banal a word as ‘purple’. It might be ‘mauve’ or ‘amethyst’ or ‘grape’ – her type seemed to have an entire lexicon to convey the exact hue of their clothing.

  ‘Monique’s has pulled out all the stops.’ Jessie’s face was set in a giant fake smile.

  ‘Enough internal scaffolding in that dress,’ Cara said, ‘to construct an office block.’

  ‘Smile. She’s probably watching.’

  Cara took another look and felt physical shock from Rose’s piercing stare. ‘She is. She knows we’re talking about her.’

  ‘Smile,’ Jessie ordered Nell. ‘Whenever you’re talking about her, smile like a loon. Like me, look.’ She lunged at Nell with a mouthful of flashing-white teeth and Cara fell about laughing. ‘Sorry. Mildly hysterical here.’

  Oh, thank you, God. Here come the canapés.

  She took four, even though decorum decreed she should choose only one. Or, even better, none. But the food would calm her.

  ‘You’re fairly new to this game,’ Jessie told Nell. ‘But the only way to survive Rose is strength in numbers. You must remember it’s not personal.’

  ‘It is personal,’ Cara was compelled to say.

  ‘Is it, though?’ Jessie said. ‘Because she’s a bitch to all of us?’

  ‘She’s an equal-opportunities bitch.’

  ‘If a mother-in-law bitches in a forest,’ Jessie mused, ‘but there’s no one there to hear her cackle … Ah, no, this analogy is going nowhere. Where’s that lad with the champagne? But let me tell you, Nell, not all mothers-in-law are like Rose. I had another, one of the nicest women I’ve ever met –’

  ‘Who are you talking about?’ Johnny approached. ‘My mother?’

  Jessie turned to him. ‘Yeah, right!’

  Then all of them laughed far too hard.

  It was a long night and she ate everything: too many canapés, too much bread, the amuse-bouche, the extra potato gratin, her own dessert and now Ed’s too. He hadn’t wanted it and she couldn’t stop herself.

  Canice was standing up to make his speech.

  ‘This’ll be good,’ Cara heard someone say. ‘He’s gas. A real comedian.’

  Canice beamed around the restaurant. ‘Look at them all, the great and the good of Beltibbet. Enjoying your dinner, are you? Because if you’re not, take it up with Jessie over there. She’s the one to blame.’

  Cara threw Jessie a sympathetic look.

  ‘I’ve lived in this town and worked for the people of this town, all my life …’

  Cara zoned out a bit as Canice made bitchy stabs at various poor bastards who had the misfortune to live in the same place as him, then zoned back in when Canice started talking about his family.

  ‘… As you know, I’ve three sons. Johnny, bit of a fly boy, wants life to be one long party. But, all credit to him, married into money. So what if the wife is a bit of a sergeant major? Can’t he muffle the noise by stuffing his ears with fivers!’

  He paused to let everyone laugh.

  ‘Shur I’m only joking, Jessie!’ He twinkled at them. ‘Now Ed. Ed and his beloved trees. Married to the lovely Cara. There she is, eating cake. Don’t worry, Cara, plenty more where that came from.’

  Another pause to let laughter fill the room.

  Cara burnt. She hadn’t even been eating, but that cruel old bastard knew exactly how to wound. In addition, she didn’t want Ed on alert as to how bad things were with the food. Although only yesterday he’d interrupted her when she was desperately trying to swallow the remains of a packet of biscuits and he hadn’t noticed a thing. She was lucky that he was a man with no real interest in day-to-day detail.

  Canice had moved on to Liam. ‘Liam thought he’d be the next Usain Bolt. Run a race? Shur, that eejit couldn’t run a bath! And would he listen when I warned him he’d need a profession to fall back on? Indeed’n he did not! Do you know what he does with his time now? He cycles. Where was it you cycled that time, Liam? Istanbul, that’s right. Took him thirty-one days.’ He paused for a breath. ‘You can fly there in four hours.’ Howls of laughter erupted. Canice beamed benignly around the room. ‘Ah, I’m only having a bit of craic. But seriously, folks.’ He reached for his wife’s hand. ‘Rose, what would I have done without you? Fifty years married. I’ve been a lucky, lucky man. Ladies and gentlemen, please charge your glasses for Rose Casey!’

  People were dabbing tears from their eyes as they stood up. ‘To Rose Casey.’

  FIFTY-ONE

  Nell was sketching at the kitchen table when the knocker began banging madly: the others were back from the dinner.

  Laughing and talking loudly, Liam lurched into the hall, followed by Ferdia, Sammie and Barty.

  ‘I didn’t expect to see any of you until the sun came up.’ Nell was worried by how drunk they seemed. She’d get feck-all done now.

  ‘We got kicked out at midnight.’ Ferdia followed her into the kitchen. ‘They closed the bar. Can you believe it?’

  A bottle of red wine had already appeared on the table and Barty was pouring.

  ‘How’re you getting on?’ Liam asked. He went in for the snog, but he was so drunk that she slid away easily.

  ‘Grand.’ She started gathering up her pencils and sketches.

  ‘Nell?’ Barty asked. ‘Glass?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  Ferdia, Sammie, Barty and Liam settled themselves around the table and were already drinking enthusiastically.

  ‘Have a glass of wine,’ Liam said to Nell.

  ‘I’m good.’

  ‘Ah, go on, you’re no craic.’ Liam had picked up Dilly’s tube of bubbles. He blew out a stream of them. They rose upwards and popped at the ceiling. ‘Have a drink.’

  ‘Not tonight.’

  ‘You’re no fun.’

  ‘Nope. Night all, see you in the –’

  ‘Is anyone having another drink?’ Liam locked eyes with Sammie, sitting beside him.

  ‘Sure.’ She shrugged.

  ‘Good girl.’

  His tone was a worry, Nell thought. He sounded a bit creepy …

  Liam picked up the tube of bubbles again. ‘Good girl,’ he repeated, in that same crooning voice, then gently blew a steady stream of pretty little bubbles into Sammie’s pretty little face.

  Frozen to the spot, Nell stared, as the bubbles burst like rainbow-shot exclamation marks against Sammie’s eyelashes.

  Barty gave a strangled laugh, then abruptly shut up. A shocked silence seized the room.

  Sammie swallowed, went pink, then became steadily more and more red.

  Liam, grinning, was balanced on the two back legs of his chair.

  Shock had wiped Nell blank. What Liam had just done was so … wrong that she didn’t have any response available. Then her hand reached out and whacked the back of his chair so that all four legs clattered down against the floor. Such rage was in her.

  ‘What the fuck was that?’ Ferdia bit the words out.

  ‘Say what?’ Liam tipped his chair back again, looking the picture of innocence.

  ‘Blowing bubbles at my girlfriend?’

  ‘They’re bubbles!’

  ‘That was a fucking come-on.’ Ferdia got up and stood behind Sammie’s chair. ‘It’s – it’s predatory, what you just did to Sammie. And you’ve insulted your wife.’

  ‘It’s just bubbles.’ Liam was insistent.

  He was nothing like as calm as he was pretending to be: Nell knew him to
o well.

  Liam laughed at Ferdia. ‘Look at you, the big man protecting his girl.’

  ‘You’re a fucking asshole.’

  ‘No, you’re a fucking asshole. Getting all up in my grille about a few fucking bubbles. Calm the fuck down, would you?’

  Liam was very, very angry, Nell realized. Had been ever since she’d told him about the call from Ship of Fools. She wanted to leave this room, leave this house, park this fucked-up shit with her husband until some faraway time in a very different future. But Sammie was only a kid.

  ‘Sammie?’ She touched her gently. ‘Hon, come with me.’

  Obediently, Sammie got up and followed her into the hallway.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah. Like, I’m sorry, Nell, I didn’t encoura–’

  ‘Stop. You did nothing wrong.’

  The kitchen door opened and Nell tensed. If Liam came out – But, no, it was Ferdia. He made for Sammie, touched her arm and, fluidly, pulled her against him. ‘You okay?’ he whispered to her. He turned to Nell. ‘Are you okay?’

  Probably not, but this wasn’t about her. ‘Good. You?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He cradled the back of Sammie’s head as she pressed her face against his chest. They were young and beautiful and clearly loved each other. Watching them, Nell felt bereft.

  FIFTY-TWO

  ‘I love dogs,’ Johnny slurred, slightly. ‘Dogs are just pure … goodness. I’m serious, Jessie, I’m going to be a dog-minder.’

  ‘Okay, Johnny, but now go to sleep.’ She was sitting up in bed beside him, trying to read tomorrow’s papers on her iPad.

  ‘You think I’m drunk. I’m not drunk,’ he stated bleakly.

  Maybe he wasn’t. Neither was she, despite all the drinking they’d done at that terrible dinner.

  ‘I’ll be fifty next year. Fifty years old.’ He was lying flat on his back, addressing his remarks to the bedroom ceiling. ‘And I’ve done nothing of worth.’

  ‘That’s crap.’ She didn’t look up from her screen. ‘What about our girls?’

  ‘They think I’m a joke. And they’re right. There’s nothing to me, Jessie. Surface all the way down, that’s me. Surface all the way down. No wisdom, no substance, that’s why I wanted you, Jessie. You were so sure of everything, but I can’t keep mooching off you. I’ve got to find my own worth.’