Chapter 25
So she might be the biggest, most na?ve eejit – possibly on the planet – but at least there was a world beyond her current heartache, even if that brief, beautiful glimpse of a future with Pete had proved to be just a mirage.
So she’d go to Los Banditos, especially since she’d grabbed the party dress, despite her mortification, and get a taxi because her feet were already complaining.
Peering through the steamy glass door of Los Banditos, Ally could see the normally sedate Mexican restaurant was positively heaving.
The entire staff of Celtic Concrete, plus regular customers, were pushing back the tables for a karaoke disco and it was clear that she would be the most sober person in the room by far.
It looked like the fifty bottles of white wine had hit the spot and most people were already well onto round two.
‘Aleee, you made it!’ shrieked Rosemarie, who was hanging onto Fergus in his boot cast. ‘Get a drink,’ she roared over the din.
Ally didn’t need persuading and jostled through the crowd of thoroughly pissed employees to order an Aperol spritz, only to find herself rubbing shoulders at the bar with Con, the CEO. Feck it, she couldn’t give a hoot at this stage.
‘Ally, you’re looking well, we missed you at the party,’ he hollered, apparently having completely forgotten that he’d fired her a couple of months ago.
She was just leaving the bar with her drink when Crystal burst through the crowd – definitely a role model for how much skin you could feasibly show – and hugged her.
‘Ally, are you OK? I just want to say that this has been the most amazing year for me and so many dreams have come true, and . . . girl, I hope you can hear this . . . Don’t give up. Next year this could be you.’
She indicated her spray-on boob-tube silver dress. Oh well, fair play to her. Oh, to have a fraction of that self-belief, whether it was shared by anyone else or not.
Every so often Ally got a flashback of the scene earlier in The Owl’s Nest, but for the most part, Los Banditos turned out to be the perfect spot to hide from her sorrows.
Con grabbed the microphone and, having clearly been told at some point in his life that he was a good singer, he ripped off his jacket and tie and hurled them into the crowd as he started belting out ‘La Bamba’, to the audience’s delight.
After that, their regular waiter, Enrique – egged on by the other staff – took the microphone and tore into a selection of Spanish and Mexican hits to universal ecstasy, as he revealed himself a talented professional singer.
Just then, Ally felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see William grinning at her. He looked friendly and uncomplicated, and instinctively, she smiled back.
‘How’s it going, Ally? You look great. I really like your dress.’
‘The Ketchup Song’ was blaring at full volume across the restaurant, triggering a flash mob of hand jiving and wobbly knees while Rosemarie and Fergus slow-danced in the midst of it all.
William gestured to her, and they struggled through the crowd to find what passed for a quiet corner amidst the din.
He seemed to be unsure of where to begin.
‘Erm . . . Ally, see, the thing is . . . I know we’ve been kind of dating for a while, but I thought I should let you know that Cait, my ex-girlfriend from college, is coming home from Australia for good .
. . tomorrow. And . . . we’ve been reconnecting recently and, well .
. . we’ve decided we’re going to give it another go. I’m sorry, I just wanted to—’
‘William, stop. This is wonderful.’
‘Really?’
‘Really and truly. I couldn’t be happier for you.’
‘You’re not upset?’
‘Not at all. You’re a lovely person, William, and you deserve every happiness, and I just know you’re going to find it.’
‘And you will too, Ally.’
‘Well, I’m not so sure about that, but thanks anyway.’
With that, he was distracted by somebody else and she slipped away into the rowdy crowd, where she felt like the faulty pixel on an otherwise perfect TV screen.
Amidst the singing and dancing and kissing, she decided it was time to head home to her fish.
Without disturbing Rosemarie and Fergus, who were entranced in their own bubble, she grabbed her things and quietly slipped outside into the December night, her ears ringing in the deafening silence.
She trailed onto the Luas at Smithfield and settled onto a seat, feeling lost. As though she belonged nowhere.
She reached into her handbag to pull out her phone and felt the rolled-up knitting.
Maybe this was just the moment to knit up a sorrow.
Not about William . . . No, every word she’d said to him was the truth.
It was just that by the time everyone else had claimed their piece of happiness, it seemed like there was nothing left for her.
She started on a line of knitting while glancing up periodically at the other passengers: mostly young people in party clothes, shrieking and chatting excitedly, piling on and off the tram as the stops went by.
It struck her that this was a bit like life – a journey where people got on and off, and eventually, it was your stop and you shuffled off. You were just along for the ride.
Just then, from inside her bag, she felt a buzz and only then remembered she’d turned the ringer on her phone off hours ago. She pulled it out to discover eight missed calls from Pete. The last text said:
Please, please, just PICK UP.
She contemplated it for a minute, then pressed the call button. He sounded frantic.
‘Ally, thank God! Where’ve you been? You just ran out and I didn’t get a chance to talk to you.’
‘Yeah, well, it didn’t seem exactly the moment, did it?’
‘No, wait . . . stop! It wasn’t what it looked like. Please come back.’
‘What . . . Pete, I’m on the train, I’m nearly home. And, honestly, every time I think I know what’s happening with you, I just end up feeling like a fool.’
She looked up and noticed an older couple sitting opposite her, clearly hanging on every word.
‘You’re not a fool, Ally. If you let me explain, I promise it’ll all make sense.’
The couple nodded.
‘Well . . .’
‘Ally, please . . .’
‘I don’t know, Pete . . .’
‘Ally, there’s something I need to tell you . . .’
Just then the tram pulled up and the doors clunked open.
Who knew which stop it was – she’d completely lost track.
Almost without thinking, Ally found herself standing up, which caused the couple opposite to beam and give her a thumbs up as she ran for the doors, managing to squeeze through just before they slammed shut behind her.
She stood on the blustery platform, watching the train lights disappear round the bend.
Oh boy. This had better not be yet another of her rotten, impulsive ideas.
‘Ally?’ came Pete’s voice. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m not sure. Nowhere, I think.’
Seriously, was she just like some stupid kite on a string that he could fly at will and jerk in whichever direction he chose?
Should she cop on and take herself and her knitting back onto the next tram and back home to quiet and safety?
At that moment she saw coming around the bend the lights of the oncoming tram. On impulse, she ran.
‘Ally, are you there? Ally, where are you? ALLY?’
It took a moment for her to catch her breath.
‘On the train back.’
Between the heaving bodies of the second wave of partygoers, Ally could see lit-up windows and glimpses of Christmas trees flashing by.
What was she thinking? What if Pete actually wanted to break up with her but only felt right about doing it face to face?
Stop! she scolded herself. Even if that were true, she’d have to face it head on, one way or the other.
* * *
Clip-clopping in her now-thoroughly-pinching boots along the street towards The Owl’s Nest, she was aware she was freezing, as neither her minidress nor lace ankle boots were geared towards this weather.
Oh please, don’t let me be making a fool of myself again, she prayed while pulling her long coat around her.
She could see that the grille was up. Just then the door opened and a familiar figure peered out.
‘Hi,’ she volunteered in the absence of any better ideas.
‘Hi.’ He stepped back to allow her into the warmth of the café.
Don’t, she warned herself . . . Let him explain himself but do not be a pushover. Even if every fibre of her body wanted him to pull her into his arms.
‘Look, Ally, I know how that must’ve looked, but all I can say is that it wasn’t that. What I said to you yesterday evening . . . I meant it.’
‘Oh God, Pete, then why does it all seem so bloody complicated?’
‘Because it is complicated.’ He paused and seemed to be gathering his thoughts. ‘That’s why Tanya was here. It turns out she’s been in touch with Tony – it seems she’s the only one who has.’
‘Your partner Tony? Wow, so . . .’
‘Apparently, he’s been holed up on his boat in a remote Turkish port on the Aegean for the last few months, so he’s had plenty of time to think.’
‘Kind of sounds like paradise.’
‘Yeah, but that’s not how it’s turned out. He’s felt totally isolated . . . remorseful. She says he’s wanted to find a way back but didn’t know how. Couldn’t face me.’
‘That’s hardly surprising. D’you think you could ever trust him . . . or even forgive him?’
Pete leaned against the counter and folded his arms. This wasn’t quite the conversation Ally had expected.
‘On certain conditions. He says he’s going to pay me back . . . although I think our estimates of what that means may differ,’ he said with a wry expression.
‘Are you serious? That’s incredible. It means all of this nightmare is over . . . well, potentially.’
‘Yeah, let’s see if it happens.’
‘So . . . Tanya? Be honest with me, I can take it. You two still seem pretty close and I get that, but if that’s true, please don’t involve me.’