31

I’m exhausted the following morning as I head towards the eco farm. James came home late from the site and announced he was wrecked before heading straight to bed, so I got nothing more out of him about the stag. To be fair, he looked dead on his feet and my heart went out to him. He was fast asleep when I was leaving so I left him to it. I say a little prayer that I can get five minutes alone with Mammy. Apart from the odd badly timed phone call, I feel like it’s been weeks since I’ve seen her properly, and they’ve been really busy with the first of the school tours starting to come in and then the naturists and the hens. She and Constance weren’t expecting the uptake in school tours so early in the season but they’re not complaining. Keeping a keen eye for any exposed flesh, I pull into the driveway of the house and around the back, hoping and expecting to see Mammy’s car. In its place, however, is John’s, with a trailer hooked up to the back.

‘What the blazes …?’ I mutter. What is he doing here? I specifically asked Mammy not to keep asking him for things. I debate turning back and going instead to BallyGoBrunch where I have a million and one things to be doing. But a part of me wants to see what John has to say for himself after the stag. Fighting with my boyfriend outside the Vortex. The tiny horrible voice in my head telling me that I actually like the idea of it doesn’t get much of a chance to speak up. Instead, I focus on being mad. James is such a nice man and has been so good to everyone in BGB and beyond. How dare John make him feel unwelcome. With my hackles good and high, I get out of the car and march to the back door, swinging it open and nearly taking the nose off John, standing on the other side. He looks less than pleased to see me.

‘Hiya.’

‘Hi.’

‘What are you doing here?’ My voice is ice cold.

‘I’m just collecting something. I’m leaving.’ It’s a bit of a stand-off, me on the step, him inside the door. He goes to push past me. ‘I better go.’

‘What did you say to James on the stag?’

He stops in his tracks, fiddling his car keys between his fingers. He speaks quietly. ‘Nothing.’

‘So why were you fighting in the Vortex? What the hell was that all about?’

‘Just a few too many drinks. It’s nothing, Aisling.’

‘Cyclops says he started it. Turlough says you started it. Pablo was nearly hospitalised for his nerves. What the hell happened?’

He’s saved by the crunching of tyres on gravel and Mammy swinging around the corner. I’ve never seen anyone look so relieved.

‘Don’t make a big deal of it, Ais. It’s nothing. I’ll text him and sort it out,’ he mutters as Mammy gets out of the car, reefing a few bags for life with her.

‘Well, there’s a surprise. Hiya, Aisling. I had to race over to the New Aldi for more burger buns.’

‘I better go,’ John says.

‘You’re blocking him in, Mammy.’ I take the bags from her and she goes to get back into the car but John is over in a flash.

‘I’ll move it. No worries. I’ll drop in the keys.’

‘Well, now, aren’t you a gentleman, John? Thanks very much.’ He’s already in and reversing, eager to get as far away from me as possible.

I bring Mammy’s bags into the kitchen and she follows, looking sheepish.

‘He was just collecting something, Aisling. He wasn’t doing any work or anything.’

‘Okay, Mammy.’

‘But do you know, it was just like old times seeing the two of you standing there chatting. Isn’t it great you can be friends?’ She obviously didn’t pick up on any of the ice-cold tension.

‘Sure,’ I sigh, unpacking the shopping for her and quizzically holding up some curiously posh-looking cat food.

‘That contrary old b-word has stopped eating the regular stuff so I have to feed her like a queen now.’ As if on cue, That Bloody Cat strolls into the kitchen, gives a snide meow and strolls back out again. ‘She has some attitude since your father died. I think she misses him,’ Mammy deduces, and I nod in solidarity.

John finishes his manoeuvres outside and, with his car freed, he knocks gently on the door, holding up Mammy’s keys and placing them on the counter with a small wave. He doesn’t meet my eye and is gone.

‘John texted me.’ James is barely in the door when he offers up this information. I know John said he would but I took it with a pinch of salt and definitely didn’t think he’d do it that very evening.

‘Oh?’

‘So it’s all fine. We both said sorry and it’s water under the bridge.’

Just like that. If it was girls there’d probably be a tribunal followed by a candlelit ceremony of hope and reconciliation. We had a particularly crusty religion teacher in second year who instigated a candlelit ceremony of hope and reconciliation after Claire Conrad’s gang started picking on Majella after Titch Maguire gave Majella a Valentine’s card even though he had been Claire’s first shift two weeks previously. (I must remember that one for the wedding speech too.) It ended up developing into something of a civil war between the second year girls, and Mrs Kinsella made us sit in a circle and say what we liked and admired about each other. Majella really struggled with what she liked and admired about Claire, finally settling on ‘you’re good at French’, which sounded like a cop-out to me but Mrs Kinsella seemed to accept it. She was straight out of her seat to gather up all the candles and cushions and get the desks back in order for Mr Burke’s double Geography. I always had a soft spot for Mrs Kinsella because she was very supportive of me and Maj’s earnest harmonising to ‘Dreams’ by the Cranberries at the St Brigid’s Cross retreat in first year. I still have the cross I made in one of the boxes under my bed.

James collapses on the couch, puts his head back and closes his eyes, and he looks so wrecked I feel sorry for him. I sit down beside him and tuck my legs up under me – not quite Sadhbh levels of tucking but I manage – snuggling in to him. He smiles with his eyes closed and puts his arm around me and we sit like that for a few minutes. I try to clear my mind and just relax, and I’m just about getting there when there’s a racket in the hallway – a jumble of Spanish and the bashing of cases against the walls. Pablo’s brothers are finally leaving.

James’s eyes open slowly and he looks slightly pained. ‘Should we help?’

The shouting intensifies, somehow Willy the dog gets involved and there’s a high-pitched scream and some definite sobbing.

‘Nah,’ I say. ‘They’ll be grand.’