Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
‘I need a favour, Clara.’ I went to her at her desk when my eleven thirty patient failed to show up.
‘Of course, what is it?’ She lifted her head up from the screen and pushed her glasses up on top of her glossy black spiralling curls.
‘You know how we’ve got Lizzie’s hen night on Saturday?’ I reminded her.
‘Yeah, I already said you can stay at mine, no problem.’ Puzzled eyes darted over my face.
‘I know you did. Thanks, I’m definitely going to take you up on it. The thing is I need you to be my alibi during the day on Saturday too,’ I pleaded.
‘Of course. Where are you going?’ she asked.
‘Dublin.’ That got her attention.
‘For the day?’ Widening oval eyes stared incredulously back at me.
‘For the day,’ I confirmed.
‘You’ve gone mad in the head. Well and truly lost it my dear! Over a ginger dude from the arse end of nowhere in Ireland. I think you might be having a midlife crisis, but I’m all for it. About time you lightened up!’ I knew she wouldn’t let me down.
‘You’re the best.’ I leaned over the desk to give her a hug.
‘Just be careful. I hope you know what you’re doing,’ she warned.
I didn’t know what I was doing. I was starting to wonder if my feelings for John were as real as I thought they were. He seemed too good to be true. And my mother always told me if things seemed too good to be true, they usually were.
John continued to phone me each day. The calls had become longer, the conversations deeper.
I was more emotionally involved than I cared to admit.
The armour lowered consistently, inch by inch.
John knew me better than my husband did – without a doubt.
Before I’d even spoken, if I only breathed down the phone, he could gauge my mood.
We talked for hours and never ran out of things to say. He opened up about his past; told me he’d never met anyone serious before, though he’d apparently been ready for a while. About his career, how he had progressed from a college degree in sport science, to a farmer running his own show.
He mentioned he had another business as well, but he didn’t elaborate; he said he’d show me one day. It piqued a little curiosity within, but I didn’t have time to consider it because there was always so much to talk about.
We took it in turns to ask each other the daftest questions, like if you could only have one more meal on this earth what would it be.
We talked about music, films, running (his love of it and my loath of it, although I loved the calories it burned) and books.
I was an avid reader; I could read a book in a day if it was really good.
John hated reading, he said he couldn’t think of anything worse.
He preferred films. On the rare occasion we actually did fall silent, I simply enjoyed listening to his quiet breathing over the phone line, enjoying the knowledge that he was there.
We got to know each other better than two people that were doing the regular dating thing, primarily because we couldn’t do that, not just because of my marital status but because of the distance.
So we talked instead, sometimes for an hour or two. He quickly became my closest confidant.
For a week, we’d been toying with the idea of meeting up for the day; either him flying to London or me flying to Dublin. I made it quite clear there would be no overnights.
It wasn’t him that I didn’t trust; it was me.
There was an early morning flight out of Southampton that would have me in Dublin at eight in the morning. John was going to drive from Mayo, spend the day with me, and I would fly back to Southampton that evening, and go to Lizzie’s hen night as arranged.
The second we had a plan in place, I began counting down the hours until I saw him again.
How did this happen to me?
The excitement was physically unbearable. The weight was falling off me at a rapid rate. Not only could I not sleep, but I could barely eat as well.
My brother’s wedding was ten days away and I couldn’t wait to reclaim my life afterwards.