‘Thanks, Sav! That’s super helpful right now.’ If it wasn’t so horrifying, it would be hilarious. She ducks, narrowly avoiding the pillow I throw at her head.
‘Just saying.’ She flings open the drawers of my bedside locker, rummaging past my passport and every birthday card I’ve ever received. What can I say? I’m sentimental. Or a hoarder, perhaps. ‘Where do you keep your vibrator?’
‘What vibrator?’
‘Shut the fucking front door!’ Savannah’s eyes double in size. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’
I shake my head.
‘At least I know what to get you for Christmas now.’ Perfectly preened eyebrows wiggle, and despite the situation, I snigger. It might be the only gift I get this year.
Christmas is cancelled, for me at least.
While Savannah the Saint finishes packing for me, I muster enough bravery to switch my phone on long enough to listen to my mother’s voicemails, though I wish I hadn’t bothered.
My parents are livid. For once, I don’t blame them.
I wasn’t especially looking forward to another cold Christmas with them, anyway. Especially with Conor and Clarissa on their honeymoon. Mass on Christmas Eve and again on Christmas morning always seemed like overkill to me.
They mean well in their own way, but it’s hard to relate to them. Or to please them.
I wince as I listen to the final voicemail. I imagine Mam clutching the ever-present pearl necklace that clings like a choke chain around her neck.
‘And what are we going to do about Conor’s wedding?I had you sitting withUncle Richard, but I’m not sure he’ll be able to look you in the eye over his celeriac soup now that he’s seen your breasts.’
Uncle Richard, Mam’s brother, is an inspector with the Guards. As respectable a position as that may be, I’m pretty sure he’s seen much worse than a couple of stray boobs dancing to their own rhythm.
‘It reflects dreadfully on the family.’
As if I chose to get my boobs out in a busy bar and allowed someone to violate my privacy in the most humiliating way.
‘You okay?’ Savannah checks her jean-clad butt sitting on my bulging case as she struggles to zip it closed.
‘I will be. Thank you for everything, Sav, really. What would I do without you?’
‘You’ll never have to find out.’ My best friend yanks me into a ferocious bearhug before handing me the keys to her super fancy country retreat. ‘I’ll call you ten times a day, we can buddy watchI’m A Celebrityevery night, and if I can convince my dads to take the twins for the weekend, I’ll be over in a heartbeat. I have a food order being delivered to the villa as we speak. With wine.’
‘If you were a man, I’d marry you in the morning.’ I clutch my chest, touched by my friend’s generosity.
‘Well, with those boobs, I wouldn’t turn you down. I’ll clean out your fridge and lock up here.’ Savannah fishes my spare key from her back pocket.
‘You really are a lifesaver. Ash was going to come over after work. Will you tell her I’ll call her tomorrow? ’ I raise my hand in a goodbye. ‘Love you.’
‘Love you more. Chin up. It’s all going to be okay.’ Sav rubs my shoulder before helping me lug the suitcase to my Mini Cooper parked on the small driveway. It takes up the entire back seat, while Tootsie and her tartan bed occupy the passenger seat. No room for any art supplies. I’ll buy some when I get there. Because let’s face it, how else am I going to pass the time it takes for this entire humiliating situation to blow over?
I set the satnav to Savannah’s luxury villa in Ballybowen, driving hard on the gas until the Dublin architecture is a distant memory.
The first few familiar bars of ‘Driving Home for Christmas’ hum through the speaker of the radio. I change the station swiftly, find the Killers and turn the sound up full blast, drowning out any unhelpful thoughts that keep popping up.
I have no choice but to ride this out now.
At least thanks to Savannah, I get to do it in luxury.
Ballybowen is a tiny seaside village where, according to Savannah, nothing ever happens. Because of its beachside location, it’s a hotspot in summer but during winter, it’s a ghost town. And that’s exactly what I’m counting on right now. One pub, one tiny a la carte restaurant, a small hotel, and mile upon mile of sandy beach.
It’s exactly what the doctor ordered.
It takes almost three hours, but eventually, I swing into the asphalt driveway of Savannah’s luxurious villa.
