by Marian Keyes
Ohhh! She almost laughed.
But he was right. She’d told him they were finished before they’d even started. What was he meant to do?
She clicked out, Are you over me?
The answer zinged back: Yep
On Thursday night, having got off a flight from Berlin, Johnny automatically drove to the family home.
It was only when he parked the shitmobile outside the house that he remembered he didn’t live there any more.
He let himself in anyway. He wanted to see his kids.
Also, ever the optimist, he thought it was only a matter of time before Jessie let him back.
‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!’ The girls were delighted to see him.
Jessie poked her head out of the living room. She looked confused. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I, ah …’ He shrugged. ‘Wanted to see the bunnies.’
‘You can’t just drop in with no notice. We need a schedule.’
His blood chilled in his veins. She was as implacable as she’d been last Friday night. For the first time he truly believed that she might not change her mind. Jessie was generally quick to blow up and quick to forgive. But tomorrow it would be a week since that dinner from hell.
The younger kids clamoured for bedtime stories, for him to put them to bed, so he ferried them up the stairs. He took his time, promising that he’d soon be living at home again, just that he and ‘Mum need to sort out some grown-up stuff.’
It was gone 11 p.m. when he came back down. Noiselessly, he entered the living room. Jessie was slumped in an armchair, sightlessly scrolling through her iPad. He’d been nursing a sneaky plan that he might hang around and sleep on the couch, the first stealthy foot in the door of his reinstatement.
But Jessie snapped from her torpor. ‘Time for you to be going.’
‘But … This is terrible for the kids.’
She muttered, ‘We’ll have to sort something out.’ Then she began crying again and said, ‘You ruined everything.’
‘Jessie, I’m begging you … Have I ever given you any reason to not trust me?’
‘“Lol”!’ she said. ‘Could you leave now?’
Helplessly, he did.
‘I fancy him.’ Nell addressed Garr’s ceiling. ‘That’s all. And you can’t go round having sex with everyone you fancy. Civilization would collapse – people would be riding each other in the streets.’
‘Uh-huh?’ Garr said.
‘It’s just simple physical attraction. Strong simple physical attraction in this case but I can out-think it. Like, I’m not an animal …’ She shouldn’t have said that word because now she was thinking along very animalistic lines. Words like ripping and biting and thrusting ran through her head, accompanied by erotic images of Ferdia, naked and beautiful.
‘It’s the almost-but-not-quite that’s wrecking my head. Two times, we kissed and it got very … and then we had to stop. And, Garr, that’s not healthy.’
‘So what would un-wreck your head?’
‘Finishing what we started. Just once. That might sound like bullshit, but I genuinely think it would give me closure.’
‘Could you please just go and fuck him? I can’t take much more of your angst.’
‘He said he was over me.’
‘Yeah, well. Maybe he is, or maybe the man just has some pride.’
‘So. Should I call him?’
‘No. You should get two empty bean cans and string them on a taut rope between here and his house. Or you could hire a small plane and do a leaflet drop over Foxrock. Yes, Nell, for feck’s sake, ring him. I’m going out to walk the cat. The room is yours.’
As soon as Garr was gone, she rang Ferdia. She wasn’t even sure if he’d pick up.
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
She was sweating. ‘You said you were over me.’
After several beats of silence, he sighed. ‘Nell, this is so not cool. You told me what you wanted. It’s been tough but I’ve been doing it. You’re playing games with me.’
‘I can’t be in any sort of thing until my head is sorted. But –’ and now she was so incredibly nervous ‘– could we have one night together?’
‘You think this is just about sex?’
‘Yes or no?’
‘Is it what you want?’
She paused. ‘It’s hard to know how much I can trust my feelings right now, but … yes, it is.’
Another of those long, alarming silences. Then, ‘When?’
‘Soon. As possible. I can get time off. I’m working with my dad.’
‘Okay.’ He was immediately all business. ‘I’ll sort something. I’ll text you.’
But he didn’t.
Friday passed.
Saturday passed.
Sunday passed.
Monday
Ferdia finally called. He asked, ‘You still want to do this?’
‘Yes.’ Nell swallowed.
‘Okay. Tomorrow, can you get the train to Scara? It’s down the coast.’
Scara? ‘Where the lighthouse is?’
‘Yep. Not many trains there because it’s small. Could you get the fourteen-fifty out of Greystones? Is it okay if I see you at Scara station? Instead of getting the train with you?’
‘Um. Sure.’
‘Text me when you’re near. I’ll be there.’
On Monday evening, Liam looked up as Johnny came in from a work do. ‘She still holding out on you?’ He seemed irritable.
Johnny swallowed. ‘I don’t think …’ He sat and put his head into his hands. ‘I’m not sure this is fixable. It’s been eleven days, that’s nearly two weeks. I think she means it.’
‘Nah! When she needs you to pick the kids up from horse-riding –’
‘Horse-riding?’
‘Or whatever hobby it is that particular day. I dunno, ballet or stuff. She’ll need you then. She won’t last long without her little errand boy.’
‘I’m not her errand boy.’
‘You totally are.’
Sudden hot rage burst from Johnny’s mouth. ‘Shut up, you fucking paedophile.’
‘She’s eighteen, you prick! Eighteen. Fuck you.’
‘Fuck you too.’
‘No, fuck you, you sap. Your problem is you’re scared of Jessie.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Totally are. You need to man up.’ Then, ‘Where’re you off to?’
Jessie was turning off the lights and shutting the house up for the night when the doorbell rang. It was Johnny.
‘What the hell?’ she said. ‘They’re all in bed.’
‘I’m here to see you, not the kids.’
‘What for?’
He followed her down the hall and into the living room. ‘We need to talk.’
‘Don’t apologize again,’ she said.
‘I won’t.’ He took an armchair at an angle to hers. ‘Because I did nothing wrong.’ His conviction surprised her. ‘I didn’t go looking for anything with Izzy. It felt like a random opportunity that life sometimes drops in your lap. Messaging her, meeting her, I did it for both you and me. I’m sure about that. It was a mistake. But I wasn’t up to something bad.’
He seemed different tonight, Jessie thought. Nothing like as meek.
‘You saw all the messages,’ he said. ‘And don’t start that secret-messages thing again. There aren’t any. Nothing sexual happened with Izzy. It literally didn’t even cross my mind.’
She was upset by this ardent speech, without knowing why.
‘When I was younger, I didn’t have any respect, not for myself. Compared to other men – Rory was one of them – I felt like a shallow fool. I was careless about the women I slept with. Careless about a lot of things. I’m ashamed of who I was. But I’m not that man now. I haven’t been that man for a long time. I’m a joke to you and the kids –’
‘I’m the joke. Herr Kommandant and all that.’
‘And I’m Johnny the eejit who can hardly lace his own shoes. But – and this is some
thing I’ve thought about a lot – I’m a decent man. I’m sure. I try my best to be a good father. I live my life around you because that makes me happy.’
‘If that was true, you’d never have messaged Izzy.’
‘You’re hurt by what you thought was in my head. And you’re hurt by Izzy not wanting both of us. I’m sorry that my actions caused you that pain.’
‘I couldn’t give a damn about Izzy –’
‘Before all of this, we were happy. Happier than most people. Well, I was.’
‘You were worried about money.’
‘Everyone’s worried about money.’
‘Are you still waiting for the Kinsellas to welcome you back?’
‘I have my own family now. Finally – and, Jessie, this is the last time I’ll say it –’
His confidence was very unsettling. She’d got used to him abasing himself with remorse.
‘– I only said “lol” once and I despised myself for it. Plus, I never sent a single cat gif. I’m leaving now. That’s the last time I’ll say any of that.’
Tuesday
Soon after Jessie arrived in the office, Karl Brennan’s name lit up her phone. She answered quickly because he’d probably put his meter on the second he thought about ringing her.
‘I’m done,’ he said. ‘Four proposals for you, lovely lady.’
‘How come you were so quick?’
‘Because your set-up is so small.’
She bristled and he must have sensed it because he laughed. ‘You’re hardly Facebook. So, the report includes projections, market research, focus groups ops. Emailing it now.’
Heart beating fast, her mouth dry, she asked, ‘How much are you charging me?’
‘Oh, Christ, loads.’
She hung up and held her breath, until the document landed in her inbox.
There was page after page of figures, percentages and words but she couldn’t focus.
She had to call him back. ‘Give me broad brushstrokes.’
‘It’s easier in person.’
‘I’ll come to your office.’
‘Meet me in Jack Black’s.’
God, he bloody loved that place. It was probably where he was right now. It probably was his office.
To no one in particular, she announced, ‘I’m out for a couple of hours. A meeting.’
In the hellhole that was Jack Black’s, Karl Brennan had a tall glass of dark liquid before him.
She nodded at it. ‘Tell me it’s a Coke.’
‘A Manhattan.’
It was twenty to eleven in the morning.
‘I’m never drunk,’ he said, ‘and seldom sober.’ He hit a key on his laptop and the screen filled with numbers. ‘You might need a drink too.’
‘Just tell me.’
‘Right! Four proposals. One: carry on as you are, with your chefs and your shops.’
‘And?’ Surely it couldn’t be that easy.
‘You’ll be out of business in two years.’
The blood drained from her face. ‘Seriously?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ He seemed pleased. ‘Rising rents, dying retail, all the blah. Next option, seek an equity raise to fund your online arm. Not going to happen. Your moment was twelve years ago. You’re too small and too risky for anyone to invest in. And you personally are too controlling.’
She swallowed hard.
‘Option three: close all of your shops.’ He watched her flinch. ‘Yeah. All. Of. Them. And the cookery school. Release the equity in the property you own. You get to stop paying rent on your leases and you get to stop paying your staff – BTW, your payroll is insane. Then you’d be liquid enough to create a decent online set-up. Only problem, brand recognition. Strong in Ireland, trusted, you’ll be pleased to know. Rest of the world, not so much. You called it yourself, it’s a crowded market place. You’d struggle. You might not make it.’
‘The fourth option? I sell my children?’
‘Or …’ His bloodshot blue eyes gave her a sudden speculative look. His imagination had gone to some place she did not want to think about. ‘Option four: close five of your retail outlets. You get to keep three stores in bigger towns and your cookery school, plus you’ve freed up equity to invest in the online side of things – warehousing, couriering, new staff. What you won’t have is the cash to get yourself up the Google rankings, and reach more international audiences. Here’s the thing, though. Your stuff with the chefs gives you an advantage –’
‘I told you that.’
‘Yeah, hurray for Jessie. But to optimize, you need a YouTube channel, interviews with the chefs, online demos. This could be the thing that makes the difference. And you need to accelerate. Currently you do four chefs a year. Bump it up to one every six weeks and you could be golden.’
That was not going to happen. It already took so much of her time.
‘Get a new hire.’ He’d obviously read her mind. ‘Who elected you the only chef-getter in town? I see it all the time with mom-and-pop outfits like yours. You can’t delegate. Whole thing comes down to ego. Ultimately it implodes.’ He spread his hands on the sticky table. ‘There you are. Broad brushstrokes like you asked for.’
There was so much information to process, but the hardest chunk to digest – like a snake having swallowed a pineapple – was that she’d have to change and quickly, when she was already living through so much upheaval.
‘Which one would you go for?’ she asked.
‘Not my gig, is it? But I like a risk. Option three. Put everything online. Might work, might not, but you’d go out in a blaze of glory.’
‘Blazes of glory don’t pay the mortgage.’
He had a good laugh at that. ‘You’ll grab on to option four. That route, you’ll likely be small-time for ever – no one’s going to swoop in and buy you out for billions. But if you become very adaptable very fast, you might actually survive.’ He took a long swallow of his Manhattan. ‘I need another of these. Are you having a drink? A drink-drink?’
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Yeah, I am.’
‘What’s with your suits?’ she asked.
It was three drinks later and she was feeling considerably more optimistic.
‘You like them?’
‘There aren’t words for how much I hate them.’
‘I get them hand-tailored in Hong Kong.’
‘By who? A – a plumber? A blind one?’
‘By whom. By a tailor who copies designer’s patterns.’
‘For really, really, really, really, really, really cheap?’
‘… Who are you ringing?’
‘Shush.’ She held up a finger, then spoke into her phone. ‘Johnny? Can you stay with the kids this evening? Late. Maybe very late. I’m fine, just out on the piss.’ Then, ‘I want to have fun. I’ll be sad again tomorrow but now I feel nice so can you stay there till I get home? Which will be at – God, I don’t know – something o’clock, but promise me you’ll stay and mind the bunnies, but don’t worry, Johnny, I’m quite drunk but very healthy and see you when I see you, as they say.’ Abruptly she hung up.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Me, my husband, my other husband, his sister …’ Jessie did her best to explain.
Karl Brennan’s frown deepened and at some stage he waved for more drinks.
When she finished, he said, ‘You’re being ridiculous. Nothing happened.’
‘How do you know?’
‘You’ve just told me what was in those messages. If he was looking for a booty call, he could have had one months ago.’
‘He was meant to be my friend.’
‘So he made a mistake, he got your woman’s motives wrong. But his intentions were good. She’s hurt you but you’re punishing him. That’s what’s going on here.’
Is it?
Maybe it was.
‘Are you a decent man, Karl Brennan?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Definitely not.’
‘Johnny says he’s a decent man.’
‘Maybe
he is.’
‘Says he’s devoted to me. But he’s been on my case for ages about changing the business.’
‘Even if he was riding every woman in Ireland, he still did you a favour with that.’
Suddenly she felt sad again. ‘I’ll never forgive him.’
‘Are we getting another drink?’ he asked. ‘Or are you coming home with me?’
‘Are you out of your mind?’
‘That’s a maybe?’
She rolled her eyes and, briefly, saw double. ‘I’m drunk, I’m vulnerable, my life has fallen apart.’
‘That’s definitely a maybe. We’ll have one for the road.’
It was a bit late now for Nell to become a woman who owned lots of sexy dresses. Anyway, the weather was cold and rainy so, somewhat defiantly, she dressed in dungarees, a jumper and her warm padded coat.
But underneath was her new underwear, a lacy gold bra and matching pants. It was impressive, that sheeny thing they did to her skin.
In fairness, though, this wasn’t good, partaking of capitalism just because she was mad about Ferdia Kinsella.
For the last three stops on the rattly old train, she was the only person on board. Now and then the sea heaved into view, a grim, bleak expanse. Above it, in paler tones of grey, the huge sky went on for ever.
Two short platforms and an unattended ticket office made up Scara station. There he was. In his long coat and big boots.
‘Hey.’ His eyes shining, he took her hands. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’
He insisted on carrying her satchel, even though it was her literal handbag. Maybe all of this should be awkward, but he seemed so happy.
‘You okay for a bit of a walk?’ he asked. ‘Seven minutes. I timed it.’
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Local B-and-B with a judgey landlady and a crucifix above every bed.’
‘And a red-glowing picture of the Sacred Heart in the hall? Cool!’
Moving off the path and across a grassy plain, they were walking into the wind. Squalls of painful rain smacked against her face.
‘This wasn’t part of my plan.’ He sounded stressed. ‘I apologize.’
‘Seriously, where are you taking me?’ Surely we can’t be in a tent? We’ll literally be blown away.
