Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was Katie’s thirtieth birthday, and I wasn’t going to Ireland.
The thought of not spending the weekend with John filled me with dread, even borderline panic.
I was jittery without his reassuring presence.
It was hard enough to do the weekdays without him, let alone the weekend as well.
I was convinced in my absence he’d realise he was far too good for me.
This side of the Irish Sea, I doubted myself, doubted the logistics, doubted everything.
Did everybody feel so insecure at the start of a new relationship?
It wasn’t a feeling I was used to, and not one I liked either.
It was a rollercoaster, and I hate fairground rides.
The high was so extreme, half the week I was ecstatic to be with John, surviving all the long hours travelling on adrenaline, beyond excited.
But the other half of the week was often abysmal without him.
I kept busy between work and my friends, but the aching for him was unbearable.
The distance was a permanent reminder of our separate lives.
I felt almost paranoid when I couldn’t get hold of him, not because I didn’t trust him, but because I didn’t trust him fully not to break my heart in some way.
Part of me felt that would be karma for leaving Rob for him.
In the darkness, when sleep eluded me, I was my own worst critic. The demons continued to haunt me, questioning whether I deserved to be happy after everything that had happened. Maybe it would be healthy in the long run for me to have a weekend away from my new-found love obsession.
Rhinefield house was on the bucket list. We’d made a list when we left college of all the places we would go to when we started earning proper money and this fabulous hotel caught my eye; a luxurious listed building steeped in history, and almost on my doorstep.
As I checked in, I was apprehensive but excited to be reunited with my trusty sidekick, Raquelle.
Nobody could feel down in her company. This was the woman who sang Sinead O’Connor at karaoke like her life (and eyelashes) depended on it.
Passionate, off key perhaps, but she made up for it one hundred percent in enthusiasm.
Afternoon tea was booked for three o’clock. I had enough time to dump my belongings in the room and touch up my make-up before meeting the gang. The rooms were plush and traditional; heavy burgundy drapes hung as curtains in the room, and complimentary chocolates sat on my perfectly plumped pillow.
I put on a long-sleeved black dress, aiming for simple yet sophisticated, sprayed my signature Chanel Chance and headed down the wide, lantern lit corridors to be reunited with my girls.
The drawing room was an enormous circular space with a triple height dome like ceiling.
Mahogany bookcases lined the walls from the floor to almost the roof and held every type of book imaginable.
I was in absolute awe. I could have happily sat there alone, leafing through the mountain of wondrous literature.
‘There you are,’ a voice whispered in my ear, startling me.
‘Rach!’ I flung my arms around her tightly. The girl was like a sister to me. I had told her my deepest darkest secrets, when I was too ashamed to even say them aloud to myself.
‘Have you bitches forgotten it’s my birthday? Break up the love affair.’ Katie landed on top of the both of us.
‘Is it really?’ I feigned shock. ‘We’d completely forgotten, if I had known I would have brought you a gift.’ I smiled and pulled out a Jo Malone bag from behind my back.
‘Happy birthday, sweetheart. Hope thirty is your best year yet.’ I squeezed her tightly in a warm embrace. It was like old times, back in the college days where we were the only family we had.
‘Where’s Theresa?’ I asked, looking round.
‘Ha. Late as usual. Do you even have to ask?’
We took our seats at a table in the window, overlooking the flower beds.
In she walked then, as glamorous as ever.
Theresa was our Irish friend from the Hygiene School.
Typically Celtic, she had pale skin, brown hair and blue eyes.
She was far cooler than any of us, following fashion closely.
Some of her outfits were light years ahead of us, yet she carried them with confidence and style.
Today was no different; she rocked a pair of slim-fitting high waisted navy slacks and a cream lace high necked body suit, pearl jewellery and a vintage hair slide.
‘Better late than never, bitches.’ She shrugged, waiting for the slagging she knew was coming her way.
‘Ah, you’re early really, Theresa. For you anyway. I expected you to turn up at my fortieth, a decade late.’ Katie fondly embraced her.
‘Well… neighbour?’ Theresa turned to me. ‘Quite the dark horse here…’ She nudged me, prodding for more information. I’d never actually thought about it before, geography wasn’t my strong point, but Mayo borders Galway. It was another pro for Ireland, in these searching times.
‘I actually completely forgot you’re in the next county! I promise you I will come and see you before Christmas.’ It would be a great excuse to get John out of Mayo for a day, maybe we could do an overnight.
‘Ladies.’ A smartly dressed gentleman approached us to take our drinks order.
‘Champagne please,’ we answered unanimously, giggling in the process; the sound echoed round the huge library.
The waiter returned less than five minutes later with a bottle of Bollinger and four champagne flutes. He proceeded to pop the cork and pour a glass for each of us, assuring us the afternoon tea would arrive shortly.
It was such a treat to be together. Days like these were few and far between. I’d forgotten how therapeutic a drink with this lot could be.
Afternoon tea did not disappoint; the sandwiches were made from fresh homemade breads, the smoked salmon was divine and the warm fruit scones were served with fresh clotted cream and homemade raspberry jam.
‘Oh, my goodness. I think I have eaten my own weight in clotted cream,’ Rachel said, patting her non-existent stomach.
‘Shut up,’ Theresa said, rolling her eyes. ‘If you turned sideways, we’d wonder where you went.’
We were used to Rachel’s obsession with her weight. She had a fabulous figure, but she claimed she was a heavy child, and the fear of her weight escalating again seemed to forever haunt her. Yet another reminder that everyone had their own demons.
‘So, I’ve got some news.’ Bright eyes glanced excitedly round the table.
‘Go on!’ I urged, eager for some good news.
‘You’re pregnant?’ Katie guessed. Since she had two babies, it was her initial thought.
She was desperate for the day that we would join her in the unpredictable journey of motherhood, promising it to be the greatest thing in the world, but the hardest work known to man, and woman.
We’d had a detailed description of both of her labours and she really didn’t sell it.
‘Don’t be daft, Katie.’ Rachel brushed her hand in front of her face. ‘Or are you trying to say I have put weight on?’
‘Put us out of our misery for God’s sake, Rach!’ Theresa begged.
‘I’m getting a boob job,’ she announced proudly while we sat with our mouths open, expecting her to say anything other than that. She’d mentioned many times over the years that she wanted to. If it bothered her, then she was as well to do something about it.
‘Well fair play to you, Rachel,’ I said raising my glass. ‘You always said you would.’
‘To Rachel’s new boobs,’ Theresa said. We clinked glasses in a toast.
‘Huh-hmm,’ Katie coughed to remind us that it was actually her birthday.
‘Happy Birthday, Katie.’ We chorused like schoolgirls and I signalled the waiter to bring us another bottle over.
Rachel had her surgery booked for two weeks-time and had paid a hefty deposit to a private clinic on George Street.
‘So, no babies…’ Katie said, cupping her chin in her hands with a pronounced pout.
‘Well… I wasn’t going to mention it… but…’ Theresa began with an enormous smile.
‘Oh my God!’ Katie jumped off her seat and threw herself at Theresa.
‘Best birthday present ever,’ she squealed with delight. ‘How far gone are you? There’s not a pick on you still.’
‘Thirteen weeks.’ She placed her hand over her flat stomach in a protective gesture.
‘Congratulations.’ Rachel and I got up and hugged her, though we knew she secretly hated it. She never had been, nor ever would be a hugger. She awkwardly returned the cuddle, patting us each on the back as we teased her about her loath of PDAs.
‘I’m so happy for you both,’ Rachel said. Theresa’s husband Patrick was a lovely guy from a large family. Family was very important to both of them.
‘I can’t believe it. This is the best birthday present ever.’ Katie repeated, naming all the nursery treasures she had kept for whichever one of us would be next.
‘Looks like it’s just you and me left doll,’ Rachel whispered quietly as Katie grilled Theresa on the details of her pregnancy.
Rachel and I had always previously been on the same page when it came to wanting kids. I thought better of telling her I would actually birth John Kelly’s babies in the morning.