Chapter TWELVE
Lou
We clink glasses.
‘Slàinte,’
he says to me, his voice a lot more casual than his demeanour suggests. I play along, both of us hesitant to cross the bridge of time that sits between us.
‘It’s good to see you again,’
I croak, hoping we get round the inevitable small talk, and fast.
‘I sometimes wondered if it would ever happen.’
‘It’s been what? Four hours or so?’
he says, glancing at the clock on the wall.
‘I always said you’d got it bad.’
I’m glad to see he hasn’t lost his sense of humour.
‘Very funny,’
I reply, doing my best not to stare now that it’s just the two of us.
‘I wrote a reply to your text at least ten times but couldn’t find the right words. Then it was time to be here, so I thought I’d take a chance and just show up instead, hoping you would too. I’m sorry for leaving you … what is it they say these days?’
‘You left me “on read”,’
he laughs.
‘In modern times that’s deemed the ultimate insult. I won’t take it personally.’
‘Phew,’
I reply.
‘Gosh, I’d hate to be a young person on the dating scene these days. Such pressure.’
He wears a navy sweater that looks soft to touch, but it’s not my place to do so after all this time. He’s aged of course. Lines are etched on his face, while his hair is greying at the temples. Time is a thief. It has robbed us both of so much, yet enriched us with a lot more than we will ever catch up on. Two very different paths taken, and two very different lives built.
‘I hope my message wasn’t pushy.’
I chuckle at his suggestion. It was far from pushy. It was perfect.
‘No, it wasn’t pushy at all, but it did take me very much by surprise,’
I admit, feeling the doors of honesty slide open already. I’d coached myself for the past hour on how to play this cool should I go ahead and accept his invitation under the guise of picking my brain on how best to organise the party.
‘I hope you know how much this means to the community.’
‘What, me coming back into the village on my white horse?’
he laughs.
‘Didn’t you hear the fanfares and see the parades?’
‘It was the talk of the village. Your big return in all your crowning glory,’
I reply. His face is like an old favourite book, but now it has its own very different story.
‘I got a huge welcome myself when I arrived back from New York. It’s not all about you, Ben Heaney. You may have had fanfares and parades, but I have been given the freedom of the village. And an elephant to carry me through the town on request.’
‘I’m sure you have,’
he says, his eyes crinkling at the sides. I hold on to the stem of my wine glass like it’s a lifesaver, and in many ways it’s the crutch I needed earlier. At least it gives me something to do with my hands.
‘But seriously, Lou. Why did you come back here? I never thought I’d see the day.’
‘By accident,’
I admit to him swiftly.
‘Gracie spotted an opportunity, then the rest fell into place like it was almost meant to be. I think village life in Ireland might suit me much better than a big city like New York after all, though I do have moments of unwavering doubt that I’ve taken a giant leap backwards. I suppose time will tell.’
We skirt over the small stuff and the big stuff too, our daughters being the perfect icebreakers as we both do our best to settle into the moment while avoiding the urge to skip to the highlights of days gone by.
‘Work is busy, thank goodness,’
he tells me.
‘I’ve an amazing partner in Matt, who also happens to be my best friend, so that helps. Who’d have thought when we were delivering that baby foal, I’d end up making a career out of it.’
‘Well, if you ever need a hand, you know I’m not too far away,’
I joke.
‘You’ve been through a very hard time, Ben. I’m sorry.’
He lifts his pint and thinks for a moment.
‘As have you,’
he says, as graceful and humble as he ever was.
‘You’ve made a big move coming home after creating a life for you and Gracie out there.’
I get the feeling he doesn’t want to get too maudlin about Stephanie, so I leave it at that.
‘In the beginning, I was like a square peg in a round hole in New York,’
I explain.
‘but in time I found my own feet. I’d no choice but to when my darling husband ran off with the kindergarten teacher. They are now living happily ever after with their two young children.’
He looks genuinely surprised. I thought he may have heard on the grapevine, but it seems not.
‘I should be asking why you stayed in New York for so long then, if that’s the case, rather than why you came back,’
he says, looking right at me for the first time since I got here. I order another drink. He barely catches his breath.
‘You deserved so much better than that, Lou. You should have told me what you were going through out there.’
I rewind the years, calculating almost to the day when it was that John packed his bags and left our New York apartment. I physically shiver.
‘I should have told you, but my life was very different from yours by then,’
I say.
‘Plus, I’d no idea where in the world you were, or who you were with.’
He shrugs. I have a feeling he doesn’t agree, but to be honest, telling Ben Heaney my life had gone tits up was the furthest thing from my mind at the time. I was instead determined to face up to a future of single-parenting in a city where my only daily conversations had finally moved on from small talk with the postman or the lady in the grocery store. I had been settling in at last, but then the rug was swept from beneath my feet.
‘I put my shoulder to the wheel, knowing I could turn it around with sheer grit and determination,’
I continue.
‘I carved out a career in interiors, I bought an apartment and learned to love the challenge of it all. It was mostly fun. It was character building, that’s for sure.’
He stares at his pint before he speaks.
I would have run to you if you’d told me.
He doesn’t say so, but I can read his mind.
‘And now, here we are, full circle,’
he says quietly.
‘I’m a widower and single parent, you’re a single lady with your daughter raised and the world at your feet. It’s weird, isn’t it? Very strange.’
‘That’s one way of putting it,’
I laugh, knowing we need a subject change before we’re both crying into our drinks with regret.
‘So anyhow, how’s Uncle Eric? And your mum?’
Despite my efforts to lighten things up, I almost choke when I mention their names.
My first thought when I got back here was to rock up to Ballyheaney House to say hello to Ben’s family, but nerves and pride wouldn’t allow it. Instead, I hoped I’d bump into them organically, maybe in the park or the post office, or maybe they’d come and see me if they heard I was back in town.
No matter how or when I saw them again, I’ve always hoped that we could pick up where we left off without any animosity or hard feelings.
Ben may have broken my heart, but I shattered his too.
‘Uncle Eric is vying for a place on Masterchef, while Mum is craving friendship and company but will never admit it,’
he tells me.
‘They’re both rattling about the big house, determined they’re fine on their own. The finances are a strain again. It’s a bit like history repeating itself, so Cordelia and I are going to have to make some big decisions very soon.’
‘I totally understand.’
‘It’s tough, isn’t it?’
he replies.
‘I’ve only been here a couple of hours and I’m seeing cracks in more than the paintwork, if you get me. It’s like watching something slowly erode that was once indestructible. I need to be here more, and that’s a fact.’
‘Which brings us to the Christmas Eve party.’
‘Which brings us to the Christmas Eve party,’
he echoes.
‘Ava and I will come back here again for the holidays next weekend when school finishes up. Do you think we’re crazy bringing it back?’
That’s a loaded question, but with Ben I’ve always found it easy to be honest and tell him the truth.
‘I did when I first heard about it, I won’t lie,’
I tell him.
‘Well, not crazy perhaps, but I was shocked. On a deeply personal level I felt every emotion under the sun. I was a bit stunned. It was like ripping open an old wound, but then I felt tinges of jealousy too. I imagined all the preparations I used to be a part of, and I wondered who would do it all this time round.’
He tilts his head to the side.
‘You were the leader in so many ways, even though you might not have realised it,’
he tells me.
My heart fills up with a rush of adrenaline as I remember the thrill of helping to organise something so beautiful.
‘That’s not the only reason I wanted to see you this evening, by the way,’
he says.
‘I need to make that clear. Yes, I’d love to have you on board for the party, even if I think you agreeing to is a long shot, but I also knew I couldn’t leave here tomorrow without seeing you one more time.’
I nod in agreement. I was desperate to see him again too, even if fear got in the way of any rational thinking on my part.
‘It’s exciting,’
I say, the words tumbling off my tongue before my brain cared to register.
‘I’ve missed the buzz of the party. Those really were the best days.’
‘I agree,’
he says. The walls are softening between us ever so slightly.
‘Even if you did “friend-zone” me the last time we sat here,’ I reply.
Ben almost chokes on his pint laughing.
‘You really are up to speed with the lingo,’
he tells me.
‘And by the way, that was the hardest thing ever at the time. I was so in love with you.’
Well, that shuts me up for at least ten seconds, but soon we are chatting again.
We reminisce and reflect, we laugh and we almost cry, we talk about Little Eve and the joy she brought to so many, we roll our eyes when we remember the summer of Olivia Major.
‘She was so determined to make my life a misery, and so keen to get her hands on you,’
I say, doing my best not to sound bitter, but boy, I was so mad at her.
‘Then she turned up here to the pub on that tricky Christmas Eve evening, uninvited, not long after our big decision to give each other some space. Talk about pushy!’
‘She had spaghetti arms, that’s for sure,’
Ben replies, laughing heartily.
‘I’ll never forget your face, Lou. She got so drunk and told you to go home so she could have me all to herself.’
We’re on a roll now down memory lane, and it feels good.
‘She was on a real bunny-boiler mission, no doubt about it,’
I tell him, recalling the look on his face when the three of us sat in this very spot by the fire all those years ago.
‘I was secretly terrified of her,’
he says with a shudder.
‘Thank goodness you were graceful enough to take her home in a taxi, even if you had to listen to her attempt to sing “Last Christmas” on repeat all the way to her parents’ house.’
‘Graceful is one word, I suppose,’
I say.
‘I think you and I both needed rescuing from her antics that evening, but I wouldn’t have let her travel home alone when she’d had so much to drink. I walked her to the door and made an excuse to her worried parents that she’d had an allergic reaction to something. They called me the “Ballyheaney House hand”.’
How flattering! Did you ever hear from her since?’
He looks horrified at the very idea.
‘No – well, not in person, but she sent me scathing texts for days saying how you and I deserved each other,’
he says.
‘She claimed she was far too good for me anyhow and how you were – well, we don’t need to go there. Teenage crushes, eh … mad how they come and go.’
A weighted silence hangs in the air between us at the idea that we too were a teenage crush that simply lasted longer than average.
‘Loving someone when you’re university age isn’t exactly a teenage crush, is it?’
I suggest, feeling the words scratch my throat.
‘But maybe that’s what we were.’
He bites his lip and rubs his forehead before replying.
‘I’ve tried for a very long time to understand what we had, Lou,’
he tells me.
‘I don’t for a second believe it was a teenage crush. It was way more than that, and it lasted way longer than that. For me, anyhow.’
‘For me too,’
I whisper, as the anxious feeling in my tummy starts to settle.
We skip past the ending of our story, choosing without saying so to move on to business since time was of the essence. We discuss the party in as much detail as possible, as we have a very short time frame to make the party happen without a glitch, not to mention meeting the guests’
very high expectations. We don’t need to mention the last party in any shape or form, but we both know we don’t want any last-minute setbacks. This one is going to take all eyes on the ball. And this time, those eyes belong to me, Ben and Cordelia.
‘Fancy sharing a taxi home?’
I suggest when last orders are called at the bar.
‘My house is on the way to yours.’
‘Perfect,’
he tells me.
‘It’s been so good, hasn’t it? This. You and me making our to-do lists and planning together.’
‘It has,’
I agree with a smile.
We swap some final ideas and then we get into the taxi, which takes me to Katie’s Cottage first. My heart sings when I see him gasp at the sight of my new abode.
‘Lou Doherty, you dark horse! You bought Katie’s Cottage?’
he says in awe.
‘Wow. That was your childhood dream, Lou. I can’t – I can’t even tell you how happy I am for you.’
We sit on either side of the back seat of the car, but he reaches across and touches me for the first time, taking my hand into his for only a few seconds.
‘Dreams do come true, Ben,’
I tell him.
‘But I always did believe so.’
It was a productive evening, it was promising, and it made me feel more alive than I have done in a very long time.
‘Never mind raining cats and dogs, it’s raining monkeys and giraffes out there.’
Nana Molly shuffles into Buds and Beans the next morning sporting a new and very flashy red raincoat which clashes with her burgundy hair.
‘Oh my goodness, it’s busy, Lou. You should have called me earlier. I’ve spent the last twenty minutes browsing in the library.’
‘That sounds like heaven to me,’
I reply as I steam up another frothy coffee.
‘Oh, it was, but I can do that any time,’
she says.
‘I told you from the start I’m here when you need me.’
She hangs up her coat on the hooks by the front door and makes her way behind the coffee bar, where I’m setting up three cappuccinos and a chai tea for a brand-new set of customers who are in the area for a carol service in St Mary’s Church.
‘I’ve served Master Campbell his third cinnamon latte today – and he’s been in here every day this week, not that I’m complaining,’
I tell her.
‘He’s very welcome and a very easy customer. His face lights up when he sees you or Mum, Nana. Maybe you’re the reason he’s here.’
She tuts at my suggestion.
‘I’m sure it’s not because of me in particular. Loneliness is an epidemic, Lou,’
she tells me.
‘It’s so tough for anyone on their own at this time of year, but especially for Master Campbell as he does have a family but they’re so far away.’
I watch him from across the room, wondering how he’s really feeling as he learns to manage without Agnes and with his only son on the far side of the world. I consider it a privilege that he likes to spend so much time here, even if I’d love to have a magic wand so I could zap that loneliness away for him.
So far this morning we’ve talked about the whereabouts of some of my more memorable classmates, the rise in fuel prices and, on a lighter note, the Christmas Eve party, which I haven’t told anyone that I’m involved in yet.
But Nana already smells a rat.
‘You look different,’
she says, staring at me as I busy myself with the coffee bar. She tilts her head from side to side, doing her best to read my face, which she’s always been so good at.
‘What is it, Lou? You haven’t had your hair done, have you? No, you still have that dreadful grown-out fringe. You haven’t changed your outfit. Still the uniform denim dungarees and green apron.’
I can’t help but giggle as she analyses me from head to toe.
‘Thank goodness I was born with a thick skin,’ I reply.
‘Your cheeks are rosy in a way they haven’t been in a long time, and you’re wearing a smile that would brighten a nation,’
she says to me.
‘Now, call me old-fashioned but to me that’s normally a sign of … Lou, have you met someone new?’
‘No,’
I tell her, confident in my truth.
‘Oh my goodness, that’s it, isn’t it!’
she says, clapping her hands.
‘You’ve been on one of those dating sites and you swiped left!’
‘It’s swipe right actually, but no, Detective Inspector Molly, I haven’t been on a dating site,’
I correct her.
‘Mum has been at me all morning wondering the same, so I’ve tasked her with a delivery to get her out of my hair.’
‘My Liz is a chip off the old block when it comes to intuition,’
says Nana proudly.
‘You two should work for the FBI,’
I say, raising an eyebrow.
‘Now, when you’re done dissecting every move I make, can you take these coffees across to table three, please? I really need five minutes to myself. Thanks, Nana. You’re the best.’
I can feel Nana’s eyes still on me as I make my way to the tiny kitchen area at the back of my workplace for a very short breather. It’s only just gone eleven but I feel like I’ve run a marathon already, even though I most definitely woke up this morning with a new spring in my step after an enjoyable evening catching up with Ben.
I lay awake for ages last night though, mulling over our conversations that evening, digesting and analysing all we had to say and all we must do going forward to get the party ready in less than two weeks.
‘Everything OK out there?’
I call out.
I hear a rattle from the coffee bar which shakes me back to the present, so I jump to get to Nana’s rescue. As fresh and astute as she very much still is, I don’t like to leave her on her own for too long, especially on a busy Saturday morning.
However, I don’t get far before my own mother meets me on the way.
‘I knew it, Lou!’
she says, putting her hand to her chest with a beaming smile.
‘I knew there was something you weren’t telling us this morning.’
‘What have you heard now?’
I ask, feeling my legs tremble and my face flush. I was going to tell my family later today about my new affiliation with Ben and Ballyheaney House, but I feared word would get out beforehand, as it often does in the village.
‘There’s a very, very handsome man asking for you at the coffee bar,’
Mum whispers, stopping me in my tracks.
‘Is this why you’re looking so upbeat and fresh this morning? I knew it! I’d just got in through the door from my delivery – very emotional moment, I have to say. Poor woman is so sick. Anyhow, I offered to help the man, but he insisted on speaking to you personally.’
My heart races. Has Ben popped in to say one last goodbye before he heads back to Dublin this evening, even though he’ll be back again Friday? No … and anyhow, Nana would recognise him instantly, having only chatted with him a day ago. My mother has the memory of an elephant, so she’d cop on too.
But still, just in case, I grab my lipstick, pat down my apron and take a deep breath before I walk out front, doing my best to disguise my inner glee at the thought of how Ben might have wanted to call by.
‘Oh, hello,’
he says with an air of confidence I didn’t notice so much on our first meeting yesterday.
‘I hope it isn’t too late to make my special order?’
Mum does her best not to bleat with excitement while I do my best not to show my disappointment at the sight of the young man at the counter. He is indeed very handsome. He is indeed looking for me personally.
But he is not Ben Heaney.
‘You’re right on time,’
I reply, seeing my grandmother staring at us from the corner of my eye.
‘Let’s go this way, Danny. We’ll get some beautiful flowers and a very special message written for your beautiful wife, all in time for delivery on Monday.’