Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
I sometimes met my mother in Southampton after work. Westquay shopping centre was open until eight and we liked to look around the shops before going to our usual Italian restaurant on the harbour.
‘How are you, sweetheart?’ She leant over the red and white chequered table mat, squinting in an attempt to analyse me. I’d forgotten I was supposed to be grieving a broken marriage, when in fact it was relief I felt, tinged only by a little guilt over my newfound happiness.
‘I’m good, Mum, honestly. Please don’t worry about me. I’m fine.’ I pushed my lasagne around my plate.
I was nervous in the knowledge it was high time I told her about John.
It had gone so far; I didn’t know exactly how to broach it.
I hadn’t wanted to tell her prematurely and give her another thing to worry about.
One bombshell at a time was quite enough.
She wouldn’t thank me if she incurred any additional wrinkles on my behalf.
‘I can’t help but worry. You’ll know yourself one day. I hope.’ She always said that to me, but until recently I knew there was no chancing of me understanding what it felt like to worry about your own flesh and blood, but the future seemed full of possibilities again.
I chewed a mouth full of garlic bread and decided to just brave it.
‘You never asked me if I met somebody else,’ I whispered, conscious of the diners either side of us.
Her head snapped up from her food so quickly I almost laughed. She looked at me silently for a second before the obvious reply. ‘Well? Did you?’
I nodded, letting her digest this unexpected piece of information for a moment. She took a sip of her glass of red wine before pleading, ‘First, please tell me he doesn’t have any children, and second, tell me he lives nearby.’
‘One out of two isn’t bad?’ I brushed an imaginary fleck of dust off my navy blazer to take the attention from my face, feeling the blush creep into my cheeks.
She put her fork down and stared at me, waiting for me to spill the beans.
‘He doesn’t have any children,’ I confirmed. Well, not that I was aware of.
‘So, where does he live?’ My mum had only just got me back to England, after seven years in Scotland. She was going to be unimpressed with my next statement.
‘He lives in Ireland.’
‘Ireland?’ Widening eyes stared at me like I’d gone mad.
‘I met him on Heidi’s Hen,’ I said.
‘Heidi’s Hen?’ She repeated everything I said, attempting to make sense of it.
‘I met him in the residents’ bar,’ I said sheepishly.
‘But if he lives in Ireland…’ she trailed off, confused.
‘I’ve been there several times, for the weekend,’ I admitted.
‘But when?’ She seemed hurt, excluded, albeit unintentionally from my life.
‘I went when everyone thought I was at Katie’s or Clara’s the last few weekends. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I had to make sure there was something worth telling.’
‘So, presumably you think there’s something worth telling now.’ She tucked her hair behind her ear, struggling to get her head around the new information.
‘You always said someone else would turn my head,’ I reminded her. Numerous times, she had tried to warn me, but I was still in that oblivious mind state of not believing in real love, unlike the love that I had since experienced.
I hated that I had turned into one of those women who threw their normal lives out the window, transforming into an unrecognisable version of themselves, but in all honesty, it was worth it.
My feelings for John far outweighed my need to be right.
Our relationship was more important to me than anything before, which is why the deeper we got involved, the larger the small problem known as the Irish Sea, became.
I didn’t disclose the extent of the situation, she’d probably go grey overnight in shock. Plus, even though I knew I’d turned into one of those crazy, infatuated in love kind of women, I hoped to hide it from my friends and family for a little longer.
‘I won’t say I told you so, but I knew you would meet someone else.’ A small nod of her head demonstrated her delight at having been proven right. ‘What does he do? How old is he? Is he married?’ she added lastly, as an afterthought.
‘No, he’s not married! He has a farm.’ She raised her eyebrows at this news and pushed her plate away from her. The young waiter returned, took our used dishes and asked if we’d like dessert.
‘No thanks,’ we replied in unison, waiting for him to leave before we resumed our conversation.
‘A farm? It’s hardly your scene darling, is it? I expected you to say he was a banker or a lawyer or something.’
‘Well, he has an antiques business as well.’ I informed her, playing mindlessly with the stem of the wine glass, glad my secret was finally out in the open.
‘Hmmm,’ she mused.
‘Mum, I adore him. Even if it never worked out, and I never saw him again, after that weekend in Bristol, I knew my marriage was over. Once I saw something like that existed, there was no way I could stay.’
‘Look darling, it’s no surprise to me you split up with Rob, God love him, he was never ever going to be a match for you. You that’s so outgoing, bubbly and ambitious. He was so quiet and lacking in ambition. He never would have been able to keep up.’
‘I couldn’t see it in the beginning. I just wanted someone for myself,’ I tried to explain, but she cut in over me.
‘Do not feel the need to explain yourself to me. Or anyone else, for that matter. You have one life, my girl, make the most of it. I’m actually kind of glad you met someone else. Although I am surprised by your choice. At least I know there’s another person looking out for you,’ she reasoned.
Her view was a little old school, she thought that most women needing looking after by a man, even though she had raised me to ensure I was more than capable of supporting myself, financially, emotionally and in every other way. But she was soothed by the knowledge that someone else had my back.
‘Let me show you a picture.’ I pulled out my phone from my coat pocket. She took out her glasses to get a better look.
I found a picture of John I’d taken that weekend in Dublin. She took the phone out of my hands zooming in on his gorgeous face.
‘Is he ginger?’ Shock tinged her tone.
‘He certainly is,’ I said with a giggle. ‘And the best-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Oh Mum, wait until you meet him. He’s so funny, and so kind, and so good to me. You are going to adore him.’
‘Hmm.’ She didn’t look convinced, possibly because he lived in another country. ‘So does this mystery man have a name?’
‘John. John Kelly.’ I grinned as his name fell from my lips.
‘And where exactly in Ireland does John Kelly live?’ She asked.
‘The west. County Mayo.’
‘Lucy, you do realise why it’s called the Emerald Isle?’
‘Mum, I’d go to Saudi Arabia to visit this man. It could be a lot worse.’
‘It could be a lot better. Could you not just find a nice Englishman?’ She rolled her eyes dramatically, but I could tell she was secretly happy for me.