Chapter 26 #3
Eilidh’s cheeks flush. ‘No. I mean, maybe. I don’t know. We’ve spoken on the phone a few times since he was here.’
‘Talking on the phone,’ Donna says, flicking her wrist dismissively. ‘Just throw yourself in at the deep end and be done with it.’
Donna starts to sing ‘Come on, Eilidh’ to the tune of ‘Come on Eileen’.
The stags overhear. The next thing we know, they are singing at the top of their lungs.
Eilidh’s cheeks flush bright pink, while Donna and I take turns twirling her around the circle they’ve created.
No one really knows the words to the song, aside from the title, so it turns into a drunken, not-particularly-tuneful chorus as Donna picks us up some shots.
I order a drink every time I check my phone and hear nothing from Rory, which makes for a boozy evening. The last time I was in the pub, Rory swept me off my feet. Now, I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for some kind, any kind, of update from him.
Stop thinking about the wedding. Concentrate on having fun with your friends, Ava, I tell myself in the bathroom mirror.
Oops, I am drunk. Shit. It has been such an emotional, evening, and now it’s spiralled out of control. One minute Eilidh is having a deep and meaningful chat about Mark, the next we are joining the stag do’s conga line.
By the time we leave at closing time, one of the stags is in deep discussion with another about changing career at the age of twenty-five, as if they are eighty-five.
I spot Finlay on a late-night dog walk with Piper as we wait outside for Donna and Eilidh’s taxi to arrive.
I slur slightly, nudging Donna in the ribs. ‘There’s Finlay. Why don’t you go speak to him?’
She seems to consider it before saying, ‘No, I can’t. It’s bad enough trying to talk to him sober. I’d be all over the place tonight.’
‘You still like him, don’t you?’ I ask gently.
‘It wasn’t meant to be with Finlay. I can’t… It wouldn’t work.’
‘What doesn’t work?’ Eilidh asks, with a frown. ‘Oh, God, you don’t mean—’
‘No,’ Donna giggles. ‘No, that works fine. That works well, actually. Very well.’
‘What then? What doesn’t work?’ Eilidh presses.
‘I don’t. Finlay wants a huge family. I broke up with him when I found out… That’s not possible for me. Because I can’t have children,’ she says in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘It’s a medical thing. Early menopause that started in my early twenties. I broke things off with him when I learnt about it.’
‘Oh, Donna!’ I exclaim, my heart hurting for my lovely friend. ‘I’m… I’m so sorry.’
‘Thank you. I decided not to tell him about it, for lots of reasons. I know he’s always wanted to be a dad, and I wanted to give him that chance.
Then I stupidly let my guard down again recently.
He’s just so kind and thoughtful and really looked after me and Dad after Mum died.
But I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve hurt him all over again. ’
There are so many things I want to say to Donna, beginning with: wouldn’t it be better to tell Finlay and at least try and work it out?
If you want to have children, can you look at other options?
But I doubt I’m the best person to be dishing out advice when my own love life is in tatters.
Eilidh obviously feels the same way, as she stays quiet too.
Instead, we gather Donna into a hug.
‘Ooh,’ she giggles. ‘I’ve never had a three-way before.’
‘Donna!’ Eilidh exclaims.
‘Well, if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry,’ she says with a shrug. ‘And I’m past the crying stage, you know?’
‘It’s obviously your decision,’ I say, carefully, ‘but can’t you at least think about telling him this?’
‘I could,’ she says, rubbing my arm as though she’s coaching me through the situation. ‘But he would stay with me, out of a sense of duty. I don’t want that, never knowing if I’d caused him disappointment because I can’t give him what he really wants.’
As Donna and Eilidh’s taxi pulls up, Donna gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, tells me not to worry about it and that we can talk again soon, and jumps into the back seat.
Eilidh says goodbye too, following her into the taxi.
The window opens and Donna leans out as the car speeds away, calling on me to text them when I’m home.
I stand rooted to the spot, my mouth hanging open. The boozy haze and sudden emotional conversation make my shoulders feel heavier as I head for home.
I won’t tell Rory. I won’t tell anyone. It’s Donna’s decision not to let Finlay know and it’s not my place to talk about it, but I just feel so sad for her, for Finlay, and what could have been.
The weight of Donna’s confession weighs on me.
She appears so happy, so carefree, but this has obviously been on her mind for a long time.
And not having her mum to talk to about it any more, that must hurt too.
‘Ava!’ a voice calls, interrupting my train of thought. I gaze around to locate the voice. It can’t be Rory, he’s away for the wedding. Besides, it’s too English.
I turn around and there he is, standing at the door of his cobalt-blue BMW, which gleams even in the darkness.
Seb. Seb is here in Ullapool.
What the fuck?