by Marian Keyes
‘Um, thanks.’ Cara extracted herself as she spotted Gabby. She grabbed her. ‘Gabby, who did you tell?’
‘No one. Well, Erin, obvs. And I might have mentioned it to Galina. Because she’s always going on about her weight. Trying to tell her she actually didn’t have a problem, not, you know, compared to you.’ Gabby looked contrite. ‘Oh, God, I’m really sorry. I didn’t think she’d tell everyone. But you’re okay now, right?’
‘… Right.’ If she left now, everyone would say she’d gone home to eat herself into a coma. (She can’t help it, it’s an illness, you know.) Pride meant she had to stick it out.
And surely, when they sat to eat, it would all calm down.
But as the time passed and the alcohol flowed, people became more intrusive, not less.
‘… I’ve never made myself puke,’ Milla was droning on to Cara, ‘but I’ve wanted to. Lots of –’
Janette shoved her way in and sat on Milla’s lap. ‘Cara, don’t take this the wrong way but why aren’t you thinner?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Like, isn’t it the same as anorexia?’
And on it went. As soon as the chair next to Cara was vacated, another woman arrived, keen to probe.
‘Dessert?’ the waitress yelled, above the drunken hubbub. ‘Who wants to order dessert? Yourself?’ She looked at Cara.
‘Tiramisu, please.’
‘Are you allowed?’ Celine yelled from further down the table. ‘You’re bulimic.’
‘I’m fine.’ Cara managed a smile.
When her tiramisu arrived, everyone watched Cara with the same avid interest as if she were swallowing fire. Casually, without any evident enjoyment, she ate four or five forkfuls, then abandoned it with about a quarter of the slice left.
‘Jesus, fair play,’ Delma said, impressed. ‘I could never do that.’
Cara waited, braced for a craving to kick in. Even if she got an urge to eat all the cake in the world tonight, she wouldn’t give in.
But nothing happened. She was fine.
Nell wandered back the way she’d come. It was properly dark now. Maybe she’d see if one of those outdoor bathtubs was free.
All seven were up for grabs. Looked like no one wanted to be having a bath on a Saturday night. Nobody but her. She booked on the app, then wandered along until she found the narrow break in the trees. Slipping into the dark green copse, hot, fragrant water steamed silently into the night air. Fresh waffle towels sat on a low, rustic-looking stool and a robe hung from wooden slats. The slate flooring was dry and faintly warm to the touch. Everything gave the impression that, literally seconds previously, a team of people had been dashing about, making it perfect for her, but there wasn’t sight or sound of a single human.
The lanterns strung through the branches gave off a pale yellow glow. On a shelf made from the branch of an ash tree stood five glass jars of hand-labelled bath salts. Nell threw in a handful of Ocean Mineral, which turned the water blue and milky, then stripped and climbed in, shuddering at the sudden warmth.
As her body floated, she looked up at the tangled branches of the trees and was grateful that she could still appreciate their beauty. She was going to leave Liam. When she got home tomorrow night.
Maybe he’d once again promise to do better, but it would change nothing.
She was grateful he’d been so horrible. It would be much worse if he was a nice man whom she’d simply fallen out of love with.
Liam would be fine, that was for sure. She suspected that all the blame would be put on her, and his next girlfriend would be treated to stories of his crazy ex. But none of that mattered. What she needed now was to extricate herself from him, and from all of the Caseys. Then this obsession with Ferdia would evaporate.
She’d miss them. But she’d had a life before and she could build a new one.
Floating on her back, her ears in the water, she heard a faint voice calling, ‘Nell?’
Quickly she sat up, displacing water with a loud sluice.
‘Nell?’ The disembodied voice was coming from just outside the circle of trees. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Ferdia?’
‘Mum sent me. She’s worried. Are you okay?’
‘Grand,’ she called. ‘Changed my mind about the gig.’
‘I’ll tell her. Sorry for disturbing you.’
This was nuts, them shouting at each other in the dark, through the trees. ‘Listen, come in. I’m decent.’
Suddenly, he was in the copse.
‘Well, I’m not decent.’ She was very nervous. ‘But the water isn’t see-through. Sit down, move the towels.’
He sat on the mini-stool, determinedly avoiding looking into the milky water. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Jessie was worried about you. Because of Liam being a no-show …’
‘How’d you know I was in here?’
‘Your name is on the list.’
She pressed herself against the side of the bath, supporting her face on her folded arms. His elbows rested on his knees. His hands were so beautiful. His thin knobbly wrists and raw knuckles seemed achingly vulnerable to her. God, she had it bad.
‘I’m leaving Liam.’ It was out of her mouth before she could stop it.
‘What?’
Oh, God, no. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. Liam should be the first to know.’
‘Did something happen?’ Ferdia asked. ‘Did you find out … something?’
‘I found out that I don’t love him any more. Isn’t that enough? I’m a terrible person. Ferdia,’ Nell said urgently. ‘You can’t tell anyone. Not until I’ve told Liam.’
‘You can trust me. A million per cent.’
Unblinking, they gazed at each other in the shadowy light of the lanterns.
‘Are you single now?’
That was so unexpected, she actually laughed. ‘God, I don’t know. I have no fecking idea.’ Then, ‘Who wants to know?’
‘Me.’
Oh.
He swallowed hard. Croakily, he said, ‘Just putting it out there. Nell, I think about you all of the time –’
‘You do …?’
He moved his chin up and down. He looked miserable.
‘What …? Happened? When?’
‘Maybe … Dilly’s first communion? I knew it wouldn’t have been Liam’s idea to give the money to Kassandra. It had to have been yours. Just … your passion, your values, the way you walked your talk. It’s how I wanted to live.’
‘I thought you didn’t like me.’
‘I thought I didn’t too, if you wanted to be married to Liam. Then the weekend in Mayo, you told me to volunteer somewhere. So I did. Because I wanted to impress you.’ Then, quickly, ‘But now I’m doing it for real. I mean it, I’m committed to it. Remember when Perla was doing that talk? You walked in and bam! The most beautiful woman in the world. Ton. Of. Bricks. I nearly lost my mind.’
‘But so soon after Sammie …?’
His smile was melancholic. ‘Sammie knew before I did. On the train home from Westport, she called it. I knew I thought you were cool, I didn’t know then there was more to it. But Sammie loves you. It’s all good.’
He winced. ‘Then Italy. That was agony. My birthday, same. But you came to the Button Factory, I’d had a few drinks, I couldn’t hide how I felt. Why were you there, Nell?’
Because I didn’t have the stamina to keep resisting.
Abruptly, he looked depleted of everything. ‘Just tell me, is there any chance? For me? For us?’
‘Pass me a towel?’
Startled, he pawed around on the slate floor. Unfolding the towel to its full width, he got to his feet. She rose from the bath, water draining off her body, into its embrace, then let him wrap the towel around her and secure it with a chaste tuck near her armpit.
He offered his hand, to help her to step out, but she shook her head. While she was in the bath, with some sort of a barrier between them, she’d felt they were safe.
Hesitantly, she reached for him, pulling his b
ody against hers, drawing his face closer. She shut her eyes, felt his breath on her skin, then his mouth on hers, slow and aching and tender. His hands were in her wet hair and the kiss intensified, becoming more urgent.
If they didn’t stop soon, she would start fumbling at his jeans. She’d wrap her legs around his waist and let him slide into her. Or she’d pull him into the water, tearing at his clothes …
Holding her tight, tight, tight, pressing her hips against his, his gaspy, ragged breath loud in her ear, he whispered, ‘Get out of the tub, Nell. Please.’
‘No.’ With an effort, she pulled away.
Abruptly, he released his hold of her. Then, moving to the treeline, he pressed his arm against a trunk and tried to catch his breath.
‘Ferdia,’ she said. ‘This is the scariest mess of my life. I can’t deal. I need to take care of things with Liam.’
‘Nell. I think I’m in love with you.’
‘Cop on!’
‘No, you cop on. There’s something special here between us. We both know it.’
‘I’m nine years older than you. I’m married to your uncle.’
‘Step-uncle. By marriage. And nine years is nothing. Sam Taylor-Johnson is twenty-four years older than her husband. Yeah. I’ve been googling all that stuff.’
‘What about Jessie? I respect her, I really like her, she’d freak out …’
‘Hey, we’re all adults here.’
‘Yeaaah, you know, we’re kind of … not. You’re still in college.’
‘In eight months I’ll be done.’
‘I can’t trust myself because I was sure I loved Liam.’
‘Because he was coming along, like, all Mr Perfect, pretending he loved art and that. Me? You thought I was a – a spoilt kid. Because I was. But I’ve been on a steep learning curve.’
She pressed her lips together. Until she’d talked to Liam, she couldn’t promise Ferdia anything.
He sighed and shrugged. ‘Look, you know how I feel. It’s up to you. If you want me …’
Then he was gone.
Nell dried herself slowly as the bathwater drained away. That was not cool. It shouldn’t have happened. None of it. No matter what Ferdia said, he didn’t really love her: he was simply young and idealistic. Likewise, the feelings she thought she had for him – the longing, the physical attraction – they were just a weird by-product of this crazy emotional upheaval.
Leaving Liam and ending their marriage were going to be tough: all of her focus and energy would be needed. She just had to trust that when everything was done, she’d be madly relieved that nothing had happened with Ferdia.
Apart from that one – let’s be honest here – fucking amazing kiss.
NINETY-ONE
‘Mum.’
‘Mum.’
‘MUM!’
A sharp finger dug into her upper arm. ‘Ouch!’
‘Wake up,’ Vinnie yelled. ‘We’re home from Grandma’s!’
Cara opened her eyes and had to shut them again. Everything hurt. Her head, her jaw, her shoulders, even her feet. ‘What?’ she croaked.
‘I need money.’
Memories of the previous night came flooding back. Gabby’s birthday. That horrific meal. The humiliation of everyone whispering about her. She’d only had a couple of glasses of wine. Why did she feel as if she had the worst hangover of her life?
‘Money,’ Vinnie repeated.
Slowly, every muscle aching, Cara managed to sit upright in bed. She’d obviously caught a virus. ‘Is Grandma here?’ she whispered.
‘She’s gone to play tennis.’
‘Get Tom for me,’ she croaked.
‘Money first.’
She managed to open her eyes. ‘Get. Your. Brother.’
Vinnie backed away nervously and returned moments later with Tom.
‘The thermometer,’ she instructed Tom. ‘It’s in the box in the bathroom. I’m sick.’
But her temperature was normal. She didn’t understand.
She felt as if she’d done ten Pilates classes back to back.
Was it because of last night?
Maybe. She’d felt under attack, so she’d clenched all of her muscles, trying to make herself so small that she’d disappear. Worse than the physical pain was the terrible depression that had descended on her, seemingly out of nowhere. Everything felt broken and strange – her friendships, her job, herself and Ed.
She could not have got out of bed if her life depended on it. As the day went on, the boys made her toast and a cup of tea, which they presented with the same pride as if they’d just managed to split the atom. She couldn’t summon the praise they so obviously expected.
Early evening, waiting for Ed to get home, they climbed into bed with her and put on Wreck-It Ralph. Tears began leaking down her face. Soon she was gasping and struggling for breath.
‘Stop,’ Vinnie said, not unkindly. ‘Please, Mum, stop. Mums don’t cry.’
Dropping her weekend bag in the hall, Nell found Liam in the living room. Anxiety buzzed in her stomach, making her feel sick. He needed to know now. Common decency said he deserved that.
‘Hey, you’re home!’ He moved to get up to kiss her but she waved him back down.
‘We need to talk.’
It was a surprise when he replied, ‘Yep, we do. I’ll go first. I’ve quit my job.’
Nell felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Whatnow …?’
‘Yep.’ He was cheery. ‘Just seemed obvious. Trying to work and study, it’s too much, was making me narky. And seriously, baby, all the grief I get from that place, for so little cash, what’s the point?’
This can’t be happening.
‘Only thing is, we’ll be living on whatever you make. You’ll be supporting us – just for a while. That’s okay?’ Softly he said, ‘“For richer, for poorer”, right? Baby, don’t look so shocked.’ His smile was gentle. ‘We’ll be grand. Exams are only a couple of months away. Soon as I qualify, I can start charging people. Might take a while to build up a clientele, but we’ll be grand.’
She’d written nothing about this in that stupid letter to herself.
‘Now what was it you wanted to talk about?’
‘Oh … ah. Nothing.’ How could she land all this on him now? ‘Not important.’
Johnny whipped his belt from around his waist and threw it into the plastic tray, along with his wallet, his briefcase, his laptop and his iPad.
‘Any liquids?’ the woman asked. ‘Anything in your pockets?’
Johnny jingled around, burrowing for change. There was something about the woman, the twinkly way she watched him, that reminded him of Izzy. He threw a clatter of coins into the tray and moved on, but suddenly his mind was cast back to the past, more than thirteen years ago.
Izzy had called him at work. ‘I need a plus one,’ she’d said. ‘For a gala night, a work thing.’
It was about ten months since she’d broken up with Tristão and it seemed to be permanent. ‘Will you come with me?’
He barely had to think about it. ‘Sure.’
The function took place in a shiny marble-and-gold hotel in the middle of nowhere. The long evening eventually finished, and without consultation, they went to Izzy’s room and had sex. Johnny was thirty-five now, older than he’d been during those carefree encounters of their early twenties – and a lot sadder. But when he was caught up in the sensation of Izzy’s skin, her mouth, her hands on him, he felt normal – a man, a human animal, doing what he’d been programmed to do.
In the morning, with Izzy sprawled unconscious across the sheets, her long legs entangled with his, he wondered if she belonged in his bed. Did he belong in hers? Izzy was very special but she was vulnerable. He was vulnerable.
When her eyes finally opened, she said, ‘I shouldn’t have bothered booking you a room.’
‘We didn’t know this was going to happen.’
‘C’mon, Johnny.’
He was shocked at his own naïvety. ‘Izzy, you’r
e one of the most important people in my life. I care about you too much for us to be …’
‘Fuck buddies? Grand. No worries.’
‘So we’re okay?’
‘Course we’re okay, ya big thick. We’re Izzy and Johnny, we’ll always be okay!’
A few Saturdays later in Errislannan, on a blustery October afternoon, they pulled on their wellies and went out for some air. As they cut through the fields, the light was already fading. Winter was on its way.
The faint humming noise from the electric fence prompted Izzy to say, ‘Remember when we used to push each other into it?’
‘Yeah.’ It raised a faint smile.
‘That was what counted for fun back then. We were mental.’
‘Well, you were.’
‘Ha-ha. Here, isn’t the sky beautiful?’ She looked up at the streaks of lilac and mauve. Then, ‘Johnny? I’ve something to say. Is there …’ She stopped and started again. ‘Johnny, I think there could be something between the two of us. Something serious.’
His heart dropped like a stone. No way had he seen this coming. I can’t hurt her. ‘Izzy … I think the world of you.’
‘Course you do.’ Said with an echo of her old swagger. ‘And that night in the hotel … right?’
He felt he was slipping and sliding, trying desperately to grab on to the truth before it was swept from him. He’d thought they’d had an admirably adult, emotions-free fuck, but for Izzy, he was fast realizing, it had been a meaningful romantic encounter.
‘You said you didn’t want us to be fuck buddies,’ she said.
‘I did. But …’ He’d meant they shouldn’t be sleeping together at all.
‘Is there someone else?’ She had stopped walking and was staring at him.
‘Izzy, listen to me, I’m in no state to have a girlfriend.’
‘It’s been nearly two years, Johnny. We’ve got to try.’ She managed her familiar, optimistic smile. ‘Promise me you’ll think about it.’
But the right words just wouldn’t come.
‘Hey, Johnny Casey,’ Izzy had demanded down the phone. ‘Are you avoiding me?’
Yes. ‘Nah. Work. Mad busy.’
Since her proposition that day, being with Izzy had made Johnny feel shitty and weird. He’d realized that you couldn’t go round sleeping with just anyone. Actions have consequences. He’d started skipping his Saturday nights in Errislannan. One here, two in a row there. He’d just missed three on the trot, his longest yet.
