Chapter 20 #2
She got off the bus (no point in bringing the car) at his apartment complex, which reminded her a lot of the one she’d shared with Francis. A three-bed monthly rental which probably cost around the GDP of a small country.
William buzzed her in, looking really happy to see her, and gave her a big hug, so she had a chance to breathe in his Polo aftershave which was .
. . really nice. He was wearing a dark-green fleece and jeans, which really suited him – all in all, William was undeniably dishy.
He took the wine and led her into the large open-plan kitchen/living room, where she could see a small dining-room table set for two, while over the kitchen counter, she noticed some fairly complicated-looking cooking going on. Lovely.
‘Ah, howaya, Ally? I remember you from the night in the pub, Jaysus.’ The rather strangled voice, it transpired, came from Fergus, whose very large white runners were sticking out from behind the washing machine, which was partly pushed out into the middle of the floor, flanked by mops and buckets.
William seemed to be entirely unperturbed by the drama and was simply stepping over Fergus’s legs, as though this happened every day of the week.
‘Glass of wine, Ally?’ said William mildly, completely ignoring the stream of expletives from Fergus as he wrestled with the back of the machine.
‘How about yourself, Fergus?’ she said politely, indicating the bottle but secretly hoping he’d refuse.
‘Ahh, not yet, not till I’m finished. Throw us over the crisps, though, I’m starving, so I am. God, I love crinkle cut.’
Well, that was one thing she’d got right.
‘Fergus is the man for the electronic devices – apparently, he can save us a fortune,’ explained William warmly, as Ally did the ‘oh you can come around to my house any time’ bit and they sipped their wine awkwardly, the whole date now somehow centred around the washing machine.
‘Just as well you didn’t get here any earlier, Ally.
Where you’re standing right now was a big pool of water .
. . And do you know whose fault that was?
’ Fergus hollered, pointing a Phillips screwdriver at William.
‘A certain person . . . this big eejit overloading the washing machine with a month’s worth of jocks. ’
Ally was starting to feel like she was trapped at a Best Man speech, but couldn’t help laughing while William rolled his eyes good-naturedly, although a less easy-going personality might well have told Fergus to feck off with himself.
‘No, it’s true,’ William admitted. ‘It destabilised the machine and then the hot and cold pipes detached, hence the flood.’ This was pure William, an engineer at heart.
‘Do you know what, lookin’ at the two of you knocking back the wine is putting the longing on me .
. . Sure, pass me over the bottle there,’ announced Fergus affably.
‘I’ll have one to keep you company.’ He fished around in the cupboard above his head and pulled out a mug with Sagittarius on it and proceeded to slosh a good helping into it.
‘Don’t mind me,’ he went on. ‘You two get on with your dinner, I’m fine, I ate earlier. I’ll just be here, but I won’t bother you,’ he announced and then disappeared again below the countertop, but well within earshot.
Ally started on her second glass of wine while William served up the food. Thankfully, William had bought another bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon – exactly the same as hers, so her gifting that evening had been on fire.
‘Here we are, I hope you’re hungry,’ said William, producing two mountainous plates of curry. Definitely guy-sized portions, ideal after running a marathon.
‘It’s the Sanjeev Kapoor recipe . . . you know, off the BBC,’ he announced proudly.
‘He’s been slogging away all evening with the pestle and mortar – as I said to him, will you not just throw in a few spoons out of an oul’ jar?
Sure, who’s going to notice the difference?
’ contributed Fergus in a strangled voice, as Ally came to terms with the fact that the evening was turning out to be a threesome.
They chatted away about how she’d been after the climbing, and how she might try it again, you never knew. The curry was genuinely delicious, plus he’d gone to the trouble of making raita and garlic naan bread, which was endearing.
‘He’ll have to take you out canoeing down in Galway when the weather gets better, won’t you?’ hollered Fergus. ‘Or will that be Cait?’ William was squirming. There was obviously some private slagging going on, which she was quite happy to let pass.
‘OK, people, that’s fixed,’ announced Fergus. ‘Hang on a minute now while I test it . . .’ He threw some items in the washing machine. ‘Cross your fingers . . .’ he declared and pressed start.
Instantly, everything went black.
‘Ah, Fergus, ye big eejit.’
They all scrambled for the torches on their phones, and then William busied himself gathering candles and lighters. A couple of minutes later, they were all flatteringly lit by tea lights in saucers.
‘Sorry about that, there must be a short somewhere . . .’ Fergus mumbled.
Meanwhile, Willliam’s almost infinite tolerance of his friend’s shenanigans seemed to have finally worn out.
‘Just fucking leave it, seriously, Fergus,’ he snapped.
Ally was starting to feel bad for him. Oh well, at least the food was already cooked. All in all, things could’ve been a lot worse, she decided.
Just then there was the sound of a bedroom door being wrenched open and Ronan – their other flatmate, who she remembered from Ryans – stormed out.
‘Fergus, ye stupid bollocks! I told you to call out an electrician and not be messing with it yourself. Now look at the state of the place, and it’s getting feckin’ freezin’.’
Ally munched through her curry resolutely, glad at least that she’d chosen to wear the jumper and not something flimsy.
There were times, she reflected, when a power cut could turn out to be sort of fun and exciting.
This was really not one of those times. By ten past nine, she whispered to William that it was time she called an Uber.
‘Are you sure?’ said William, in a tone that meant: yes, good idea. He followed her out to the hall as they waited, while Ronan listed, at top volume, all the other times when Fergus had unsuccessfully tried to repair domestic appliances.
Ally found herself trying not to laugh. ‘We don’t have much luck, do we?’
‘It’s not usually like that, honestly . . .’ William began as they walked downstairs.
‘Only when I’m here.’ She laughed.
Just then her Uber pulled up and they had a brief kiss, which was really nice, she thought, although he hadn’t mentioned seeing her again. Actually, she felt quite serene about that, which meant her resolution must be working.
* * *
‘Well, was Fergus there?’ demanded Rosemarie, when Ally called her while still in the Uber.
‘He certainly was.’
‘And?’
‘He could definitely do with a steady woman . . . I’ll explain to you later.’
‘No, tell me now – how old is he?’
‘How the hell do I know . . . but he was drinking out of a Sagittarius mug . . .’
‘Jesus . . . you’re joking?’
‘Is that bad?’
‘It’s fabulous. Aries and Saggie are ideal. Wait! Let me read you this: “The most natural and pleasurable pairing in the zodiac. A dynamic duo”. OK, I’m supposed to be speedier and he’s supposed to be more philosophical . . . but, sure, what of it? Close enough.’
‘Except that . . . Rosemarie, I don’t know if the mug was even his – what if you’re ideally suited to someone else in the house?’
‘Did it take him a while to find it?’
‘Erm . . . yes.’
‘Then it was definitely his.’
Which was debatable. However, after the drama of the whole evening, Ally was more than happy to let it go. It did show once again, though, that, up close, other people’s lives weren’t as flawless as you might imagine.
* * *
Ally lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, feeling rather full, and thinking about William, his fresh face and friendly patient manner, and how she really did like him.
She thought about the text from Francis, which she’d barely had time to think about, and wondered what he wanted to say to her – and of course, Pete, who hadn’t been in touch since the previous day.
No matter how much she focused on bringing her attention back to the present, like her mindfulness app said, his silence still pained her.
How had her sister managed to find a happy relationship with Rob at twenty-five, seemingly effortlessly.
She didn’t remember any big dramas between them.
How did Damo apparently topple backwards into a woman who could balance out his flamboyant personality, so they both became the best version of themselves?
Mum had only been twenty-two when Dad had literally hounded her to marry him.
And then there was herself. Well, maybe her function in the world was to balance out the howling successes of everyone else by being the ultimate Love Loser.
* * *
The following morning, in the light of Shower Wisdom, she recognised that this was nonsense, that Julia frequently rolled her eyes at Damo’s antics and Maeve really could’ve done with Rob being at home more often.
Who knew the reality of other people’s lives?
Remember your resolution, she told herself, detach from outcomes in the short term and do what’s right for yourself.
Yeah! That’s why she was going back to her two-euros-above-minimum-wage job, plus a few quid in tips.
Still, as she dressed in her baggy jeans, red top and chunky shoes, and tossed her hair around her face, she realised she felt .
. . happy. She was actually looking forward to going to work.
She arrived at The Owl’s Nest at eight to an enthusiastic welcome from Evelyn and Dave.
‘Boy, are we glad to see you. Marco, the new guy, fell off his e-scooter on Tuesday, and ended up in A&E, so Evelyn and me have been holding it together since then.’