Chapter 41
The following morning, on her way to work, walking along Westland Row, Kitty saw Tom walking in her direction. Tom was dressed smartly, in a pair of navy jeans, a round-neck navy jumper and a bright yellow rucksack on his back. He was accompanied by a woman, who was laughing along to something he had said. Her hair was short, blonde and chic, and she had the kind of self-confidence which you only saw on influencer posts on social media.
Kitty looked around for somewhere to hide and was about to run into a coffee shop when Tom looked across and saw her, his face clouding for a moment, and then he smiled. ‘Kitty! Good morning!’
He hates me, Kitty thought, as she gave a small wave, trying to smile.
‘On your way to work?’ he said.
Kitty nodded. ‘I wish I wasn’t,’ she said, wanting to talk to him about everything. He might have advice, he might tell her how she could save everything… Shazza, Annie, Billy. And even herself. Right now, it felt as though she was drowning. She smiled at the woman. ‘It’s just work… you know how it is.’
‘Absolutely,’ said the woman. ‘It’s called work for a reason.’
‘This is Robyn,’ Tom said. ‘Robyn, this is Kitty… Robyn is one of my fellow tutors at Trinity and Kitty… Kitty is a friend from Sandycove.’ He smiled at Kitty.
I’ve been friend-zoned, thought Kitty. But it was better than nothing.
Robyn shook Kitty’s hand. ‘Good to meet you,’ she said, smiling. ‘Now, I’m trying to persuade Tom here to come to staff drinks tonight…’ She rolled her eyes flirtatiously at him. ‘But he’s playing hard to get… Don’t you like drinking? Or maybe it’s the pub. Is there one you like to go to?’
Tom shrugged. ‘I like a couple…’ he said. ‘But I am fussy… I know what I like when I see it.’ He didn’t look at either Robyn or Kitty.
‘Where do you like going?’ Robyn asked Kitty. ‘Any recommendations? I’m American so I like everywhere…’
‘There’s a nice place in Dún Laoghaire…’ began Kitty, thinking of the magical Grace O’Malley. She glanced back at Tom and she thought she detected a look of concern – or something indecipherable. Perhaps Shazza had told him she’d gone mad and was a horrible person.
‘Where? You mean out of town?’ Robyn laughed. ‘I’m not commuting for a pint! That would be ridiculous.’
There was an awkward silence for a moment and then Kitty turned to go. ‘Better get things going,’ she said. ‘Work waits for no man. Or woman.’ She gave a kind of jazz-hands wave at them and walked away, feeling her face burning up. Why had she said such a ridiculous thing? She wished she could just talk to him again, go back in time and do everything differently. If only she could just start all over again, make better decisions, and perhaps then she might look forward to her future. But all, it seemed, was lost. Was it possible to go from wanting to marry someone to falling for someone else entirely in a matter of weeks? How could she be have been so certain of one thing, only to rethink her entire feelings a matter of days later? But it was true. She didn’t want to marry Dave… and she was falling for Tom. Except it was all too late.
‘Would anyone fancy a drink?’ asked Mary Rose, tentatively.
It was 5.34p.m. and Kitty was dreading going home to Dave. And to Maureen’s slippers, which she knew would be stacked beside the sofa. How could slippers, the most inoffensive of items, be almost menacing?
‘Just a quick one,’ Mary Rose went on. ‘Nothing mad, you know. Just a quick little team-building drink.’
‘It’s Wednesday night,’ said Hughie.
‘I know,’ said Mary Rose, apologetically. ‘I mean…’
‘It’s a brilliant idea,’ beamed Hughie. ‘Wednesday night is the worst night of the week, too far from either weekend…’
‘Hump day,’ said Mary Rose. ‘So you’re on?’ She was smiling.
‘Consider my arm well and truly twisted,’ replied Hughie. ‘Which is how I expect to be once I start drinking.’ He looked over at Kitty, who had spent the whole day trying to work out how the powers of heart and soul could be applied to the Welcome Ireland pitch. Without Alex to bounce ideas off, she still felt lost.
‘I could be persuaded,’ she said, as the smile on Mary Rose’s face broadened.
‘Good,’ she said, ‘because I need a drink. Everyone ready? Grab your things, no hanging about. We are leaving now.’
Three and a half hours later, they stumbled into a karaoke bar off Wexford Street. Somehow, between O’Donoghues and the karaoke bar, they had linked arms, Hughie in the middle, and were clutching and clinging to each other. If they didn’t, thought Kitty, they’d probably fall over. But she didn’t care. She didn’t want to be at home with Dave and his crap television or Maureen and her slippers.
‘This used to be my spiritual home,’ said Hughie, as they entered the neon portal of the karaoke bar. ‘It’s where I used to worship every weekend. Me, J?germeister and a microphone. Heaven.’
‘My friend Ailish used to bring me here,’ said Mary Rose. ‘She was a karaoke queen. Mariah Carey and Celine Dion were her favourites.’
‘What shall we sing?’ Kitty asked.
‘“Baby Love”,’ said Hughie, immediately. ‘I’m Diana Ross, you’re the other two.’
‘Florence and Mary,’ said Mary Rose. ‘My grandmother ran The Supremes Irish fan club. My mother is called Diana, my aunts are Florence and Mary. I know the words to every song.’
Hughie was shaking his head at her, mouth open, impressed. ‘Oh. My. God. Why didn’t you tell me? We could have formed our own supergroup three months ago.’
They waited their turn and then stood in front of the crowd of office workers and karaoke professionals, the type who turned up just for the chance to sing in public, and then they began, Hughie transforming into Diana, with Mary Rose and Kitty as The Supremes.
Later… much later, they sat in a booth in the back of the room, three large fruit-adorned pina coladas in front of them.
‘Can’t believe you haven’t lost that ring yet,’ said Hughie. ‘I would have thought you would accidentally on purpose lose that thing down the toilet or in the Liffey.’
Kitty looked at the ring on her finger. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘Dave’s mother would kill me and I’ve decided I like being alive too much.’ And then she thought of Tom and realised that he was the reason why she liked being alive. Kitty began to cry. She shouldn’t have had that fourth pina colada.
Hughie patted her on the shoulder. ‘It’s the ugliest ring in the world,’ he said. ‘But there’s no point crying about it.’
‘It’s horrible,’ said Mary Rose, ‘but Hughie’s right. No point wasting good tears on bad jewellery.’
‘It’s not the ring,’ said Kitty. ‘Well, it is the ring…’ Her head was spinning, her speech slurred, and she tried to focus on what she wanted to say. ‘It is the ring… it’s totally the ring… because I don’t want to marry Dave and it’s too late now. I wanted to, he didn’t, and now he does, and I can’t say no. What kind of horrible person does that?’
‘You can’t marry him,’ said Mary Rose, her eyes wide.
‘No you definitely can’t,’ agreed Hughie. ‘I’d prefer to wear that ring for the rest of my life than marry someone I didn’t want to.’
‘But I have to,’ said Kitty, miserably. ‘But what’s worse is…’
‘His mother?’
‘She’s awful,’ agreed Kitty. ‘But worse still is the fact that I’ve met someone else… and I like him. And I’ve messed that up because I sent him away…’
‘Where?’ It was Hughie’s turn to look horrified. ‘Where did you send him?’
‘Just away. Back home… anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s all my fault… and what’s worse than all that?’
‘There’s worse?’ said Mary Rose.
‘You’ve murdered someone?’ asked Hughie.
‘Nearly,’ said Kitty, really crying now. ‘I was horrible to my best friend Shazza and my aunt Annie and I said awful things…’
‘You’re just under pressure,’ said Mary Rose. ‘You made a mistake. They’ll understand. They’ll forgive you.’
‘But I can’t forgive myself,’ said Kitty. ‘I’m a horrible person.’
Hughie shook his head. ‘You’re a great person,’ he said. ‘And I’m a good judge of character. I can sort the good from the to be avoided blindfolded.’ He put his arm around Kitty and kissed her head. ‘Now, you know what you need?’ he went on. ‘What we all need?’
‘No, what?’
‘Another pina colada!’ he said, waving for one of the waitresses. ‘It’s the only way. If you’re not going to be married to Dave, you need to develop a better coping mechanism and pina coladas could be the best coping mechanism ever invented.’
Mary Rose was sucking on her straw, making sure she vacuumed up the last of her pina colada before the next one arrived.
‘Promise you won’t say anything to anyone about me and Dave,’ said Kitty. ‘Or the other man…’
‘Who would we tell?’ said Mary Rose.
‘On my pet parrot’s life,’ said Hughie.
‘But you don’t have a parrot,’ said Kitty.
‘But I’ve always wanted one,’ sighed Hughie. ‘The words I would teach it. The songs we would sing together. My pledge is based on my future parrot. So consider my word my bond. Now we need another round of these things to seal the deal!’