After what seemed like an eternity, we headed back to the car and returned to the hotel. At least at the hotel there was a minute chance of seeing him. We had no hope dressed up as farm animals in a field fifty miles away. Probably a saving grace.
I agreed to meet Clara and Ruth in the lobby twenty minutes later to get some shopping in while we had a free couple of hours. Retail therapy was the best therapy, so we hit Cabot Circus.
If I’d hoped to take my mind from John, it didn’t work. I wondered would he prefer a scarlet or a nude lipstick. I bought both, but decided to wear the scarlet that night.
Hung for a sheep as a lamb…
That evening, I was the first of the girls to reach the hotel bar. I couldn’t deny it to myself; I knew exactly why I was there first, who I was hoping to bump into.
There was no sign of him or of his friends. I checked my phone on the off chance he might have texted me, but it showed no new messages. When the girls appeared, I fell into mindless chatter before being pulled into a taxi.
The Comedy Club was good fun, the food was crap, as you’d expect, but the comedians were brilliant and the stage turned into a disco afterward. Clara wasn’t feeling well. She suffered with her tummy and mixing cocktails and wine last night hadn’t helped.
‘I might go back to the hotel.’ Her tone was apologetic.
‘I’ll come with you.’ I grabbed my bag.
‘Don’t be daft. Stay here and enjoy the night. No need for you to leave as well.’
I welcomed an excuse to leave, desperate to bump into John again. One thing was for sure, he wasn’t in The Comedy Club. But there was a chance he may end up in the residents' bar at the hotel, and I was going to make sure I was already there.
Disappointingly, I hadn’t heard from him all day. I’d been so sure he’d felt what I’d felt. I’d checked my phone a hundred times and there had been nothing. I considered confiding in Clara, but I couldn’t find the words. Even she didn’t know how bad things were at home. Never before had I admitted out loud that anything was less than perfect. She had a fair idea, everyone did. But the topic of my marriage was off limits, even to my mother.
‘Are you sure? I honestly don’t mind going back myself.’
I didn’t need any encouragement. Ruth came with us.
We sat in the hotel bar in the relative quiet, Clara sipping on a brandy that was apparently medicinal. I was more than happy to sit with her, unwittingly turning my head each time the door opened. I ordered a gin and tonic again and looked longingly at the two empty stools at the bar we’d been sitting on only a few short hours ago.
‘Anyone would think you were waiting for someone,’ Ruth said, digging me in the ribs with her elbow playfully.
‘Ha! As if! Just keeping my eye on the door in case Bridezilla decides to come in and pee on my bonfire! Do you know how many calories is in this drink?’ I joked to mask the truth, trying not to choke on my drink, willing the threatening blush to stay away.
They were my best friends, but I could barely process what had happened myself, let alone try to explain it to them. I wouldn’t get away with it for long though, that was for sure. My facial expressions gave me away every time. It was impossible to be fake even if I tried. That’s probably why none of them asked about my marriage, it would be uncomfortable for all of us, me lying and them pretending to believe it.
It was an unspoken rule in our friendship. No one ever asked how Rob was.
Only now did it occur to me how fucked up the whole situation was.
Two G & Ts later, I excused myself to go to the toilet and took my phone with me. It had bad idea written all over it, but I decided to call John.
It was now or never.
Tomorrow he’d be back in Ireland and I would never see him again. I pulled the phone out of my bag, shaky hands reapplied the deep red lipstick while I rang his number. The dial tone rang as if he was abroad, but then I suppose technically he was. After two rings he answered.
‘Lucy,’ he said in that velvety tone, scorching my soul. Loud music echoed over the line.
But that voice… it sounded like home to me.
‘Where are you?’ he shouted over the noise.
‘I’m in the hotel bar. I wondered if you’d like to have a drink with me?’ I had nothing left to lose at this point. Oh yeah, except absolutely everything… but it was a chance I felt compelled to take.
‘When you didn’t reply to my text earlier, I assumed you didn’t want to see me,’ he said.
‘What text?’ I’d checked enough, let’s be honest. I couldn’t have missed it.
‘I text you earlier, to see how you were after everything. When you didn’t reply I thought you had seen sense and remembered I was ginger,’ he said with a snigger.
