‘Thanks for letting us go horse riding, Daddy,’ Erin chips in, skipping towards her side of the car. Good manners is something both Shelly and I have always tried to instil in the girls. Just because they’re privileged, doesn’t mean they aren’t expected to be polite. Shelly shoots me a smile which conveys she thinks we might be doing a good job as parents. She is, at least, I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time.
‘Who wants to go to the marina?’ I might not know much, but I do know ice cream is the way to my daughters’ hearts. I strap Emily in, while Shelly straps Erin in the back of the Jeep.
‘To the ice cream parlour overlooking the boats?’ Emily’s eyes light with hope, glancing from me to her mam, then back to me again.
‘If you promise not to wake Mammy and Daddy before the sun comes up, yes.’ Our daughters are still early risers, even with all the holiday excursions, and I have a feeling that Shelly and I are going to need a bit of time together tonight and in the morning.
‘Deal, but if we wake up early can we watch cartoons quietly downstairs?’ Erin, as ever, wants to bargain. She’s going to be a ball-breaker when she grows up.
‘Deal.’ Shelly and I lock eyes over our daughters’ heads and exchange a smirk.
The marina is only an eight minute drive from the equestrian centre. We’ve been coming here for ten years, so I know the roads like the back of my hand. I park the Jeep on a tight side street a few minutes’ walk away. Shelly takes Erin’s hand and I take Emily’s. Here in Portugal I get recognised less often than in Ireland. It used to be a relief, but now I kind of miss it. I’m starting to realise that my role as captain of the Irish rugby team provided some sort of validation or something. Now, my friend, Nathan Kennedy, holds the position- and the validation that goes with it.
Something will turn up, a new route, a new path, a bit of direction. I just need to trust the process and accept the changes. Try and enjoy the time with my girls.
At the counter, they pick their flavours. Shelly orders a scoop of rum and raisin. I hand over my card again without ordering anything for myself. Now I’m not training anywhere near as much as before, I have one eye on my calorie intake. I won’t allow my muscle to slump to fat. When we get back to Dublin next week, I have every intention of exhausting our home gym and pool.
From one of the outdoor picnic benches, we watch the world amble by. Throngs of tourists and locals swarm around us; adults, children, young and old enjoying the stunning scenery and warm summer night, the scent of freshly baked pizza dough wafting in the air. It’s peak season. It’ll be nicer when we come back in October, less busy.
In my pocket, my phone vibrates. It’s Arthur, my agent. He’s as old as the hills but he’s acquainted with anyone that’s anyone. Shelly arches one sun-lightened eyebrow in question but says nothing as I press the handset against my ear.
‘Arthur. How are you?’ Balancing my phone between my shoulder and my ear, I use a paper napkin to wipe chocolate cheesecake flavour ice cream from Erin’s chin. She shoots me a grateful, toothy smile and continues shovelling the loaded purple plastic spoon into her mouth.
‘Good thanks, Marcus. I’m ringing to tell you the producers have made a decision onA League of Their Own.’
My lower lip catches between my teeth as I wait for the news.
‘It’s not good, I’m afraid. They decided they wanted someone a bit more “wholesome”, whatever that even means. Sorry, Marcus, I know you had your heart set on it.’ Arthur’s raspy voices wheezes across the phone.
‘No worries. It’s fine. Plenty more opportunities out there, right?’ I can barely look at my wife.
‘I’ll let you know when I hear any more. Enjoy the rest of your holiday. I wanted you to know there’s no need to rush back.’ He disconnects the call abruptly and Shelly leans across the table and runs a hand lovingly across my forearm.
‘I’m sorry, Marcus.’ Her voice is low, genuine and sincere.
Looks like someone somewhere might be trying to tell me something. With Shelly being offered status and a huge chunk of money, it’s an effort to squash that emasculated feeling. Thank god for the book deal.
