And so it was Martin, François, Grace and Rosie who spent the evening chatting, listening to music and drinking more of Grace’s cocktails. And all the time, Rosie kept thinking of Patrick and wondering what he was doing and how she was going to say goodbye to him on Sunday.
36
PATRICK
‘Was that the stage show?’ asked Kate to Patrick, once she had placed a whiskey into his hand. ‘Honestly, these domestics should remain in the kitchen. Not at my best friend’s wedding. As bridesmaid-in-chief, I should give that Laurence a piece of my mind.’ She glared at the tent flap, where Laurence and Nessa had shuffled out, followed by Rosie and Grace. And some good-looking fella in overalls. Who was that man? He had his arm across Rosie’s. It seemed quite proprietary.
Patrick shook his head. ‘Best to leave it. Seán and Niamh seemed unfazed.’ And they did, both were dancing with a group of their friends, all singing and jumping up and down.
‘This is just the rehearsal dinner,’ said Kate. ‘They’d better keep away for the main event tomorrow.’ She paused. ‘Let’s have another drink. I know… shots! I’ll get them in.’ She grabbed his lapels excitedly. ‘Tequila!’ She pulled a sexy face. ‘I bet you’re a tequila man, hmmm? George Clooney is. And you remind me a little of George Clooney. Younger, of course.’
He wished he could just have a bit of fun with Kate, loosen up. But his problem was, he couldn’t fake it. The last person he was completely at ease with was Rosie, all those years ago. Perhaps that was another thing that had scared him, that she’d soon see the real him, the insecure, vulnerable Patrick. And then as soon as they were over, he could go back to pretending he was cooler and invulnerable. But now, with Kate, he just didn’t want to fake it. There was only one person he wanted to loosen up with and he’d blown that years ago.
‘Maybe tomorrow,’ he promised. ‘We’ve got to be on duty in the morning. And all day.’
She smiled at him, flirtatiously. ‘Okay then, Mr Taskmaster. God, you’re so commanding. So bossy.’ She paused. ‘I like it.’
He groaned inwardly. But Kate carried on talking, telling him gossip about various people, asking him endless questions about his life in Boston and about the restaurant, telling him about her life in Dublin.
‘I did a sub-three-hour in the last marathon. I was thinking of signing up for the Boston one. I could…’ – she gazed up at him – ‘give you a call when I come over?’
‘Of course. Come to the restaurant and I’ll stand you dinner.’
She smiled that Lego smile. ‘I would love that.’ Her gaze was penetrating. ‘You could… show me a thing or two.’ She paused, staring right into his eyes.
‘You mean Harvard and all that? Love to. I’m always a tour guide for any of my Irish friends.’
‘I would love to see the sights…’
He felt almost hypnotised and gave himself a shake. ‘So, what are your jobs for the morning, as matron of honour?’
‘Uh, maid of honour. I’m not married. Or old.’ She laughed again. ‘But, you know, help Niamh get dressed, tell her she looks amazing, blah blah. Fix the train. Make sure the bouquet hasn’t got lost. Drink some champagne. The usual.’ She shrugged. ‘Weddings are not exactly difficult. What are your jobs, as best man?’
‘Keep the rings safe, make a speech. That’s kind of it.’
‘Well, I hope you mention the amazing bridesmaid-in-chief and that this wedding would not be happening if it wasn’t for her.’ She laughed.
‘I’ll see if I can squeeze it all in.’ He smiled at her, wondering if it was too early to slip away and go to bed. But then he looked up to see Brian walking towards them.
‘So Sandra’s fecked off,’ he said, swaying in front of them. ‘I’m on my own again. Just like when your mam kicked me out.’
‘Mam never kicked you out,’ said Patrick, feeling his blood rise, his hands begin to sweat. ‘You moved into town. Into Sandra’s, remember?’
His father appraised him through slitted eyes. ‘Is that, right, eh? Is that right, Mr Too Clever By Half? Mr Know-it-all.’
‘Mr Power,’ said Kate, ‘I think that you might have had a bit too much to drink. And perhaps it’s time to call it a night, yes?’ She sounded like the doctor she was, brisk, commanding and able to deal with the trickiest and drunkest in A & E at midnight on a weekend.
‘Oh, who’s this then?’ said Brian.
‘Kate Thomas,’ said Kate, holding out her hand. ‘Niamh’s best friend, bridesmaid-in-chief and junior doctor at St Vincent’s Hospital. And, Mr Power, if I may…?’
But Brian Power was one of the least intimidated of men. He held up a hand. ‘And you, miss, can keep this shut.’ He motioned to his mouth.
‘Dad, stop,’ said Patrick. ‘I mean it. Just stop. And stop inflicting yourself on people. Especially women. Go away and leave us.’ He turned to Kate quickly, trying to smile, and then back to his father. He had to get him to leave them all alone and then he could go to bed. Dad was his burden, he realised. He would always be trying to manage him and deal with him. But he looked at this once powerful man, who could lift a hay bale as though it was a beach ball, who was gored by a bull and survived, who drank too much and bullied his wife and boys, and he felt nothing but pity for him. He was old and pathetic.
Brian glared at him. ‘Think ye’re too good for us, ha?’
Patrick shook his head. ‘Not at all. But I’m too good to be talking about the past with you.’ He gazed down at his father, who was barely held up on those bandy legs of his, his back was gone, he could tell, and his face looked ravaged from the drink. ‘Next time I’m in Midleton, I’ll come and see you and I hope that you’ll be off the drink and being a bit nicer to people…’
