Chapter 35 #2
Round tables in the ballroom were each laid for ten guests.
Each table had a number displayed on a metal stand, a glass vase full of gorgeous fresh white and red roses and a large church candle with three wicks lit.
Fairy lights hung from the ceiling creating a romantic, relaxing atmosphere.
It was like something from a fairy tale.
A wave of relief swept over me as I realised the frog was not sitting at our table, thank goodness.
We were seated with Jane and Michael, Trisha and Michael and two guys I recognised from the stag weekend and their wives, who all seemed lovely.
I scanned the room looking for the frog but was pleased to say I couldn’t see her anywhere near us so at least I was able to enjoy my dinner without her staring daggers at me.
I exhaled deeply, releasing the tension I’d been unwittingly holding in my shoulders and reminded myself I was the one he was here with; I was the one he told he loved, the only woman he ever had said that to, and the one he had asked to move in with him.
I had no reason to feel anything other than wonderful regardless of who else was in the same room as us.
Jack and Julia waved at us from two tables away, they had travelled from Dublin this morning. I was looking forward to catching up with them again, and hearing more about their own wedding plans.
I checked my phone in my handbag to make sure it was still on vibrate.
I’d have hated for it to go off in the middle of the speeches.
Glancing down at it quickly, conscious of being rude, I noticed I had seventeen WhatsApp messages and two text messages.
I scanned through the WhatsApp messages briefly, the girls were debating on different venues for my leaving drinks.
Clara wanted to go somewhere fancy, Katie wanted to go somewhere local and Ruth didn’t care where we went and reminded everyone to invite Rachel down.
I flicked into the text messages. One was from my mother, wishing us a good day at the wedding and asking for a photo, the other was from a number I didn’t recognise.
When I opened it, it was none other than Paddy O’Mara, asking me if I would be interested in a hygienist position in his new practice which was due to open mid-February. Everything was falling into place, the stars seemed to align for us, as though it were fate. As though it were meant to be.
I handed the phone to John under the table so he could read the message. He flashed his perfectly imperfect smile at ticking another box on the checklist.
With Paddy’s formal job offer, I was one hundred percent at peace with my decision to move. The weekends were wonderful, but the week days were torture being away from John. I needed a job, an identity of my own, something to be known as, not just John Kelly’s woman.
My family and friends thought I’d gone completely mental, turning into one of those lunatic mushy women I used to mock.
A part of me still questioned if that kind of love could last. It had only been a few months.
The one thing I learnt about being in love, true love – and that’s what it was – was, that as wonderful and as amazing and exciting as it is, there were extreme lows as well.
One thing about being in love was that it made me vulnerable, I was giving my heart to somebody and trusting him not to damage it; yet handing him everything he needed, all the tools and instructions, to do just that.
I was not used to feeling powerless in that way.
I’d never truly cared before. There was no element of risk before because I had nothing to lose.
With John, I felt there was a potential for complete and utter indescribable devastation.
I’d experienced the real deal and was absolutely terrified of losing it.
I tried to shake off that melancholy feeling and bring myself back to the present.
There was some sort of guessing game going on with the guests at each table and I quickly tried to catch up on what I’d missed and join in.
John promised me the world, and I didn’t doubt he would deliver.
I adored him. I couldn’t physically get enough of him, I missed him every second I wasn’t with him.
Thoughts of him consumed me. Every time my phone beeped, I willed it to be him.
‘Fifty-four minutes, you heard it here first,’ John said.
‘No way,’ Jane’s Michael replied. ‘At least I hope not. It will make for a long day!’
‘Twenty-six minutes,’ Trisha chipped in. ‘It will be over quickly.’
What on earth were they guessing while I had been miles away daydreaming?
‘I’m going to guess a fast and furious fifteen minutes,’ Jane said, sticking ten euro into the glass in the middle.
‘What do you think, girl?’ John turned to me. I still had no idea what they were guessing.
‘Erm... thirty-two minutes?’ I picked a random number, and stuck a tenner in the glass, copying Jane.
Waiters and waitresses served every table, offering us the choice of red or white wine with dinner and handing out champagne for the toast. The master of ceremonies rang the bell for the speeches to begin before dinner.
At least it would get them over with. If it were me having to stand up in front of four hundred people, I’d rather just get it over with.
The father of the bride stood first, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie apprehensively.
He began by saying what a beautiful girl his daughter was, told us a few personal stories from her childhood and one funny, but slightly controversial, account of a teenage incident involving a bottle of brandy, an ambulance and a four-hundred-euro phone bill.
The crowd hooted with laughter. Would I ever get the Irish sense of humour?
The groom stood, looking at his new wife in awe. He welcomed everyone and thanked us for coming to their big day. He awkwardly hashed his way through the formalities of addressing the bridesmaids and his new in-laws before getting to the crux of what he wanted to say.
‘Even in this day and age it mightn’t be the done thing to say at a wedding, but I’m going to say it anyway.
Myself and Natalie are expecting our first child in six months.
We are delighted to be able to tell you all together.
’ He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her proudly as a loud round of applause erupted from around the room.
We stood and clapped our hands vigorously.
‘Ah shite, can I change my guess? This has thrown a spanner in the works,’ Trisha said, eyeing the glass of tenners, which I then realised were guesses for the length of the speeches.
The mother of the bride dabbed tears away with a finely laundered handkerchief. It put on at least six minutes.
Eventually the best man stood up and gestured for everyone to quieten down. ‘I don’t know about you lot but I’m absolutely starving so let’s get this done with and enjoy the rest of the day.’ He spoke confidently into the microphone.
‘Hear hear,’ the crowd roared, raising their glasses in salute. It was a long day drinking until dinner arrived and I could appreciate how quickly a person could go downhill all too soon on a day like that.
John put his hand on my thigh and squeezed it gently. ‘Are you ok, girl?’ ‘Perfect. Thank you.’ I squeezed his hand in response.
‘That you are,’ he said, planting a quick kiss on my lips, catching the attention of the best man who was still speaking.
‘Give it a rest over there, Casanova,’ the best man shouted across the room at John caught in a public display of affection. The room erupted in laughter once again as John looked mildly embarrassed for once in his life. He’d warned me about PDAs, yet he was always the first to break the rule.
As the speeches were brought to a conclusion and the glasses raised for the final toast before dinner, Trisha made a show of stopping the stopwatch on her mobile phone.
‘Thirty-four minutes and seven seconds,’ she proclaimed. ‘Lucy is the winner! Drinks on you!’
I couldn’t believe it; I’d never won anything.
As the waiter passed by with soup and fresh rolls, I handed him the winnings from the glass in the centre and asked him for ten jaeger bombs and a round of drinks.
The drinks were well and truly flowing as it was, it probably wasn’t the wisest idea to start on the shots.
Hung for a sheep as a lamb was one of my favourite mottos.
I’d suffer the after effects in the morning.
The craic was mighty, surrounded by my fabulous boyfriend, our neighbours and friends.
I felt part of them, a sense of belonging.
I kept experiencing these out of body moments where I could almost watch myself from a distance.
I appreciated everything and everyone who had helped me get to where I was in that moment, with a bright future ahead of us with my very own Mr Right.
‘Not long to go now, Lucy. Are you excited?’ Jane leaned in across the dinner table as we ate.
‘I can’t honestly wait.’
‘Shall we go and have a digestive at the bar?’ John whispered into my ear.
‘Absolutely.’ I grabbed my bag and pushed my chair back.
‘Where are you two love birds sneaking off to?’ Trisha asked, anything but discreetly.
‘Mind your own business,’ John told her, sticking his tongue out.
They had known each other since school, and it was obvious at moments like that.
If I had initially had any insecurities about the beautiful women living beside John, they were quashed immediately with the apparent love/hate almost sibling rivalry that only arose from knowing people your entire life.
I had recently learnt that John’s mother had been in the labour ward with Trisha’s mother. There was only three days between them.