He cut me off before I could continue with a raise of his hand. ‘They are honourable, just so you know. Whenever you’re ready, that is…’ He couldn’t quite meet my eye, but I fully understood what he was trying to say. I was nowhere near ready to hear it yet, but giddy at the prospect sometime in the future.
As silly as it sounded, I actually liked the concept of being married in a lot of ways. I loved the security of it, the tradition,the thought of our own family unit. I was never one for blowing in the wind, one-night stands or messing around. I could only imagine what heaven it would be, to be married to therightman.
Chapter Thirty-One
SATURDAY 17TH NOVEMBER
After a lazy morning in bed, we made our way to Southampton to catch the Red Funnel passenger ferry across to the Isle of Wight. The wind was up and the crossing was choppier than I’d have liked, especially after the alcohol the night before.
John was in great form. The boat didn’t bother him, he was looking forward to the day trip. I wondered if he realised what he was letting himself in for, but there was no way I could move to Ireland without introducing him to my mother at least once. She’d never forgive me if I didn’t.
The boat docked twenty-five minutes later. My mother waited with a youthful excitement shining in her aqua blue eyes. Nothing made her happier than having her children home, not that we did it often. Home no longer felt like home since she’d let Trevor move in. He stood watching on the side lines with his hands in his pockets, no trace of a smile on his face. He was probably annoyed at the disruption in his weekend of watching sport.
‘Hiya, darlings,’ she said, pulling me into a massive hug, an excited grin erupted on her face, exposing straight white teeth.
‘Mum, this is John.’ I introduced the two of them and she gave him a warm welcome, despite her concerns about me running off with him.
‘This is Trevor,’ she introduced her partner, who reluctantly slunk over, as though he’d rather be anywhere in the world than with us. I’d already given John the heads up, just in case he thought it was only for his benefit, sadly it wasn’t. Trevor was always a miserable git.
We hopped into Trevor’s jeep, discussing safe topics such as the weather, and the ferry crossing. Mum asked about our night out with the girls. I didn’t mention we had seen Rob. I didn’t want to bring it up again, and for John to think I cared.
John stared keenly out the window, possibly to take his mind from Trevor’s awful driving; far too fast, and hard on the brakes. It was a revelation for him to be able to picture this, the place I grew up.
‘Where do you want to go first?’ Mum asked, as we left Cowes, the tiny town the boat docked into.
‘Shanklin beach,’ I suggested. It was one of my favourite spots. I used to spend a lot of time there as a teenager and there were countless cafes and pubs to sit out at along the seafront.
‘Great idea. We’ll go for a walk and a coffee,’ she said, rubbing her hands together.
‘It’s meant to rain,’ Trevor said, eyeing the sky with his perpetual frown. I averted my focus from the eternal optimist, life was too short for that kind of negativity.
‘It will be fine.’ Mum would not be deterred that easily.
‘So, what do you think of our beautiful Isle?’ Mum asked John as he took in the passing scenery.
‘It’s not what I expected,’ he said.
‘In what way?’
‘It’s more built up than I expected.’ He eyed the many blocks of newly built apartments, and the town houses lining bothsides of the roads. There were cars everywhere. It even seemed claustrophobic to me. I’d been spoilt with space and privacy of late.
‘We have a population of about a hundred and thirty thousand people living on an Island that is only twenty-four miles by twelve,’ she informed him.
‘That is unreal. I live in a much bigger area but the population of Ballina is about ten thousand.’
‘Is that why you had to come to England to find yourself a woman?’ Mum’s tone was breezy, but it harboured an underlying air of suspicion.
A good natured laughed erupted from John’s chest. ‘I didn’t come looking for anything, but I got more than I dreamt of.’
‘Just take care of her,’ my mother warned him.
‘I spent thirty years looking for her. I’m not going to let anything happen to her now,’ he promised.
‘Hello? I am here, you know,’ I reminded them pointedly. ‘Can you have this discussion later, if you have to have it at all.’
‘Welcome to Shanklin beach.’ Trevor parked in one of the bays lining the promenade. We finally had something in common; he was as uncomfortable as I was, with this line of conversation.
We got out the jeep and strolled the length of the promenade, leisurely stopping for coffee and cake at one of the many little seasonal cafes. Outdoor tables and chairs braved the autumn wind. It was fabulous to be outside inhaling the salty sea air. I felt cooped up most of the week in my surgery; to just feel the breeze on my face and savour the fresh air was a pure treat.
