‘Belly-dancing outfit!’ Margaret bursts out, spraying Doritos. And, taking me quite by surprise, I find I laughtoo.
‘Don’t!’ I say, waving my hand around, enjoying the sense of freedom the laughter’s giving me. ‘Betty and Kimberly’s idea of a honeymoon present!’ I say through gasps for air. The thought of Brian’s face if I’d actually put it on is making me laugh even more. ‘Something to spice up our sex life,’ they said. ‘Well, after years of doing it in the dark on a Saturday night I thought it might actually help. But now I think about it …’ Laughter washes over me again and I don’t know if I should feel bad for laughing or just realise how ridiculous it all was.
‘So the sex was shite then?’ Margaret throws more crisps at her mouth, barely chewing them. I’ve hardly had anything to drink but my tongue seems to have taken on a life of its own.
‘His idea of foreplay was separate showers. He found the outfit just before the wedding, when we were packing. I saw the colour drain from his face. I wasn’t really going to wear it. It was just a bit of fun. But it wasn’t that. Now I think about it, I can remember exactly when the lights went out in his eyes.’
‘What?’
‘Well, when I first met Brian I was doing the sandwich round from Betty’s Buns, as it was then. I had to deliver the sandwiches to the radio station next door. Brian’s studio was my last stop. When I got there his assistant had let him down, the girl who did the phones. It was a Saturday afternoon sports phone-in. Well, I helped out. I could answer phones. His assistant never came back and I helped out every Saturday after working in Betty’s. By way of a thank you he took me to the staff Christmas party. It was fancy dress. I wasn’t keen but he convinced me. He went as Becks and I went as Posh in a pair of sunglasses and some of Kimberly’s high heels. D’you know, for the first time in my life I actually felt like I was somebody.’ I sipped at the wine bottle. ‘After that we justslipped into being a couple. I’d always hated all that dating malarkey, far too shy. This just became habit. I went out with him to work dos and in time he moved into my flat above Betty’s because it was closer to the radio station, and he, well, he planned our lives. We saved for the next two years for a deposit for a flat, a new one, the show-home. And two years later, planned to get married. And the following year …’ I swallow, ‘we’d start a family,’ I say quietly, suddenly feeling the need to blink quite a lot. Margaret grabs the bottle and swigs before handing it back.
‘So what went wrong?’
‘By the looks of it he was just hiding from who he really was, using me. It was all for convenience … a bit like the flat,’ I laugh, but it’s hollow. ‘Then when I suggested we throw the life plan out of the window and start trying for children straight away, well, I guess that’s when he realised he couldn’t do it any more.’
‘So where did the best man come from?’
‘We went on holiday to Greece a few years ago, a sailing holiday. My idea, a bad one. Anyway, to cut a long story short we met up with some other people our age. There was one particular friend, Adrian. He and Brian got on really well. We stayed in touch for a while but lost contact when everyone started getting married and having kids. But when we finally got engaged, Brian went Facebook mad and got back in touch. Looks like he couldn’t hide from his real feelings any more.’
‘God, no wonder you went loopy.’ Margaret slugged again.
‘I didn’t go loopy! I just remember seeing all those faces staring at me and I couldn’t bear it. So I just ran. The camper van had been delivered for us to leave the reception and go on honeymoon in, so I just jumped in it and drove. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just followed what the satnav told me to do but I went wrong. Ended up here. And the camper van company thought I’d stolen it.’
‘Jeez, makes my shit look like a breeze,’ Margaret says, holding the empty Doritos bag. I feel chilly. ‘Are you good for money then?’
I push my hand into my pocket.
‘I’ve got this.’ I show her the diamond engagement ring.
‘For feck’s sake, that’s not a stone, it’s a rock!’ Margaret takes the ring from me and holds it up. But it doesn’t shine. Maybe it’s because I’ve been wearing it so long, or maybe it’s a reflection of life – it’s lost its shine.
‘Time I was off.’ I stand up. ‘Thanks for the laughs.’ Tomorrow’s going to be a new beginning. I feel ready to move on. I mustn’t beat myself up about this any more.
‘I’m sorry you’re going,’ she smiles up at me. ‘We could’ve had fun.’
‘By the way, Margaret, what did you mean earlier, when you said about Sean, when he first came here, after he’d been …?’
‘Released. From prison. Didn’t you know?’ Looks like Margaret thought I should have all the facts too.
Chapter Nineteen
Back at the farm it’s all quiet. The hens and geese have taken themselves off to bed and all I have to do is close their doors for one last time. Freddie and Mercury are safely locked in their field. I rub their muzzles and foreheads and give them an extra handful of pony nuts each.
‘Be good for your master, boys,’ I tell them. ‘Freddie, as much as you love her, you can’t have her, she belongs to someone else,’ I say, referring to the little white donkey down the road. Why then do I suddenly think about Sean? I push the thought aside. ‘Mercury, keep an eye on him for me.’ I rub his forehead and long ears then turn back to the cottage with Grace gambolling at my side.
The water’s like a mill pond tonight. The drizzle has stopped and there’s another rainbow across the bay as the sun attempts to wave goodbye, even though we were barely acquainted. I’ve hardly stood still when a gang of midges get me in their sights and set me as their new destination. I wave at them madly and run into the cottage, rubbing my hair. I shan’t miss them.
I throw turf onto the fire and pull out some bread and cheese. I need to think about tomorrow. It’s not like I’ve got a lot to pack, but I need to get into Galway, find a pawn shop, sell the rings, and then find an internet café. Once I’ve got the money from the rings I can buy a ticket anywhere. It doesn’t have to be Malta. So where do I fancy?
I go through Sean’s CDs, which are now all inalphabetical order. I put on some music, pour a glass of wine, and find a pad and pen from the now tidy desk. The old whiskey bottle has become a candle holder on the table. I light it. The room’s heating up nicely. Grace is in her bed by the fire. The cottage has come to feel like home, far more than the modern flat that Brian and I shared. I put the pad and pen on the table and sit down. I chew the end of my pen, sip my wine, eat my bread and cheese. Still my pad is empty. With the world as my oyster I have no idea where to go.
I’m still staring into the distance as it gets dark. The moonlight is throwing its long, silver path down the bay. I blow out the candle and decide to have an early night. I’m sure the answers will come to me after a good night’s sleep.
The darkness is looking in at me from outside as I clean my teeth and wash my face. Grace follows me into the bedroom and lies down on the little mat beside my bed.
‘Good night, Grace. Thank you for being such a good friend.’
I feel a lump in my throat and turn out the light and pull the covers round me, breathing in the smell of turf smoke and washing powder for the last time.
