Chapter Thirty-Eight
‘B’lin? B’lin? B’linnnnnnnnn!!’ a strong Dublin accent shouts, and we uncurl ourselves from our embrace and spin around to see a man running across the reception hallway.
‘Whaaaa!?’ Belinda roars at him and I have to step back.
Donal’s left palm covers his ear, his cocktail raised in the other. ‘Christ B, that foghorn of yours.’
The groom I saw earlier, Stevo, reaches out for his new wife’s hand.
‘The weddin’ song is about to be played. The one we nearly broke up tryin’ to agree over.’ He laughs and his huge shoulders bounce up and down.
‘Fuck a duck, gotta go, see you later. Enjoy our celebrations.’ Belinda heaves up her dress and follows Stevo at an impressive fast pace in those heels.
‘Get the disposable camera! And do not let her see you taking photos. She hates photos, but she won’t when she sees herself today in the wedding album I’m going to put together!’ Amanda tells Denise who scurries away.
‘Shall we?’ Donal, always the gentleman, hand propped on his hip, asks me as I link my arm through the gap.
‘Oh. And welcome to the family, hun!’ Belinda roars back at me as Shane MacGowan growls out the first line of ‘A Rainy Night in Soho’.
Donal, smiling at guests, throws a hope-you’re-having-a-good-night-great-to-see-you-thanks-so-much-for-coming greeting to each table as we walk through the reception room.
He leads me to a round table at the top of the room with a white tablecloth, white roses and dozens of tiny candles in bright pink holders, flickering brightly.
‘Hey, Unc!’ A smart young man in a neon-green suit with pink bow tie high-fives Donal. ‘Thanks for the cocktail!’
‘Yer welcome, this is Grace by the way. Grace, this is Belinda and Stevo’s son, Max.’ Donal introduces us and Max takes my hand and bows then kisses it gently.
‘Pleasure, you’re a vision, darling. Much like myself.’ He spins and skips away.
Donal laughs and pulls out a chair for me and I sit on the soft, raised patterned fabric. We watch the happy couple on the floor and sip our sweet cocktails.
‘Do you believe what she said?’ I lean into him, nod to Belinda, dancing in the middle of the room with the measure of her dreams, the crystals on her lace dress twinkling under the disco ball.
‘What? That she forgives you?’ Donal’s legs splay out in front of him; he crosses one shoe over the other.
‘No. That when you know, you know? Kathleen said it to me earlier, too.’ I put my hand over his, resting on his thighs. His green eyes are caught on the spinning coloured lights from the DJ, making them seem otherworldly. And he is otherworldly. He’s just so lovely.
‘Well you’ve taught me so much so quickly.’ He looks at me with surprise on his illuminated face.
‘Me? Like what exactly?’ I say, my hand barely covering his large hand.
‘Like life has a way of throwing up the unexpected.’
‘And what way is that?’ I ask as he moves his thumb oh-so-slowly across my palm. The sensation is erotic.
‘Happy. Comfortable. No anxiety. Content. Excited. Aroused . . . Will I go on?’
‘Absolutely!’ I laugh.
‘Constantly craving more time with you.’ He moves his hand now as The Pogues finish and we all give the bride and groom a round of applause.
Then he leans into my ear, his lips brushing gently against my earlobe as he whispers, ‘The thought of making love to you actually makes my heart beat out of my chest.’
I turn to his ear now. ‘Ditto,’ I whisper back softly, feeling all sorts of emotions. I’m also aroused, excited, content, happy and feeling so lucky.
‘Grace, girl! There you are! Hey, bro, still can’t get over how cute you are!
Look at you! Anyway, Carla Deliginue has called you three times, Grace.
Girl, you gotta pick up!’ Kathleen is wagging her finger at me as she drags over an empty seat beside us, and men line up to kiss Belinda who is now on a chair in the middle of the floor.
‘Who?’ I ask, as unconsciously I move my hand from Donal’s to manoeuvre the brooch of her gold dress back into the centre before she sits. Why did that hot fabric glue not hold it solidly in place? It didn’t bond into the fibres fully. Maybe I didn’t leave it long enough in the steam of the shower.
‘Hellloooo!’ Kathleen waves her hand in front of me.
‘My client? The one I told you I was on the phone to! Carla Deliginue! She is a massively successful human-rights lawyer in LA; married to Greg Cluneez, the Mexican actor. She’s my private client, she practises yoga in my studio five mornings a week, she’s a five-a.m.-er.
She adores this dress you made for me, wants a replica of it for the Governors Ball in San Francisco in eight weeks!
Said it reminds her of the gold dress Marilyn Monroe wore in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.
When I told her that was your inspiration, she lost her mind!
You have no idea of her power amongst women, she has followers in their millions, and one post from her in this gold dress and you are made.
I mean it.’ Kathleen rabbits on at me, but it’s the joy in her face that I love.
Joy for me. It is just wonderful to see.
These Kearney women are such nice, kind, decent people.
If women supporting women had a face it would be the Kearneys.
‘Holy shit! That’s amazing, Grace.’ Donal slaps his hands off the edge of the round table.
‘Call her cell!’ Kathleen grabs my bag off the table and opens it, hands me my phone.
‘Not in the middle of Belinda’s wedding, I’ll call her in the morning.’
‘She’s eight hours behind. Call her now.’
‘Do this for you,’ Donal tells me. ‘Go get that client. Use that lesson from Logan, when he jeopardised your internship. Put yourself first right now, in this moment, you’ve come full circle.’
I’ve never known a man who actually listens to me the way Donal Kearney does.
‘I have, haven’t I?’ I realise, with a sigh of content that is so liberating.
‘Go outside and call this woman. You made this happen, you deserve this. By Grace Algar deserves your full attention right now.’ Donal unfolds himself and stands up, and as I take my phone from Kathleen, Amanda strides over to me.
‘There you are!’ She hugs me tightly. ‘Never got to say to you with Belinda holding court out there –’ she rolls her eyes to the whites ‘– like Don Corleone himself. But Donal was telling me as we scoffed our roast beef at the meal that you are actively trying to save your business? That’s what I do.
That’s my domain. I advise investors to invest in women’s start-ups.
Come and see me next week? I’m near Peter . . . Bradley C.’
Amanda pokes Donal and he just shakes his head. Then he winks at his sister, pats his short hair and pulls a Ben Stiller in Zoolander, a ‘Blue Steel’ face, taking it all in good humour.
‘Seriously?’ I gasp at her offer.
‘Sure. I told you, your talent is off the charts . . . I’ve been to more black-tie business awards events than I care to remember. I’ve spent small fortunes on dresses. And I’ve never felt as comfortable or as beautiful as I do tonight. You have a rare, special talent,’ Amanda tells me sweetly.
‘That’s so kind. You look incredible,’ I say as Kathleen moves in. She stands on her tippy-toes to lift a sausage roll off a passing tray.
‘Urgh! I thought it was a cake? Is this a real sausage roll?’ she sighs, examining it.
‘No, it’s a sausage-roll substitute! It’s stuffed with fish. We imported it from Venezuela just for you. Chartered a plane. Flew it first class. Eat the bleedin’ sausage,’ Denise tells her.
‘Girl, I’m a pescetarian! I only eat fish! What do you guys not understand about that?’ Kathleen drops the sausage roll on a side plate on the table like it’s raw sewage.
‘Being a pescetarian and only eating fish!’ Denise shrugs. ‘You’d know you were the youngest and didn’t go to bed hungry like the rest of us did.’
‘’Scuse me?’ Donal butts in, asking the waiter. ‘Might there be anything in the kitchen that is suitable for a pescetarian?’
‘Like what?’ the waiter asks. ‘I left me fishing rod at home and the chefs are gone.’
‘Could you throw on a few chips?’ Donal suggests.
‘Oh, French fries.’ Kathleen basically drools.
‘I’ll make it worth your while,’ Donal tells him.
‘See what I can do.’ The waiter moves off.
‘Can you make sure they’re not cooked in animal fat? Sorry! Thank you!’ Kathleen, on her tippy-toes again, kisses Donal on his cheek.
‘I think it’s great you’re a pescetarian. We need way more in this world, don’t mind them. By the way, whenever I’m out with Denise, she only ever eats vegetarian. Each to their own,’ Donal says.
‘Now, did you hear Carla Deliginue wants Grace to make her a dress for the Governors Ball!’ Kathleen tells Amanda, who leans over and picks up the sausage roll, takes a bite, the pastry flaking on her chest.
‘W-what? See, even better! She’s someone that will have the investors emptying their briefcases. Gorgeous!’ Amanda nods enthusiastically, her mouth half full.
‘Call her cell phone, Grace!’ Kathleen demands again as the waiter returns swiftly.
‘Chips are in the air fryer. No meat has been in it, I checked,’ he says, proud as punch.
Donal pulls his wallet out of his pocket and peels the Velcro apart. He hands a twenty euro note to the waiter.
‘I’ve the best big brother in the world,’ Kathleen tells him.
‘Lucky you. Mine’s an arsehole. He’s a follower of Harrison Sullivan. Enough said,’ the waiter says dryly, then walks away.
‘How does it all work? The start-up?’ I ask Amanda as Kathleen puts her hand on the base of my back and gently nudges me towards the glass doors.
‘We take a meeting with the wealthy investors I handpick—’ Amanda shakes the flaky pastry crumbs off her fingers.
‘Not in my flat?’ I ask in horror.
Amanda looks to Donal with a twinkle in her eye. ‘No. We’ve a better idea.’