32

Five weeks pass in no time and the week of Majella’s hen is suddenly upon me like a ton of bricks. The stag drama dissipated fairly easily, although things were a little bit tense between me and James for a while. We’re both stressed out, though, so I try not to worry. He’s under pressure to get Garbally finished before the big ‘party’, and I feel like my shoulders are nearly up around my ears with the tension of trying to keep the details of Emilia Coburn’s wedding under wraps. It’s a weird, lonely feeling, being the only one who knows. But I feel proud that she’s chosen our local BGB café to feed her guests. I wonder who’s doing the main meal. Some big celebrity chef with their own NDA, I’m sure. Mandy communicates only via me, and Carol and the gang still think it’s a birthday party they’re working towards – and their NDAs prevent them from even talking about that, even though the whole town is buzzing with speculation about whose party it is. Mandy has told me that Ben and Emilia have been so hounded by paparazzi they’re determined to keep the whole thing a secret until the Big Day if they can. They’ve even rented a chateau in France, which seems like a fierce waste, but Mandy says they’re also selling their wedding pictures to Hello! and donating the two million euro fee to charity so I suppose I can’t really judge.

I’ve booked Maguire’s for the night before Majella’s wedding. She really wanted to have a few ‘send-off’ drinks and I said I’d organise it, as if I haven’t enough on my plate. I was hoping her parents would want to do it in the house, since it’s almost finished being renovated and they’re due to move back into it in a week or two, but no such luck. I’m going to need a holiday after all this, despite the fact that I’m going to Tenerife in two days.

And with that in mind, I’ve arranged for the girls to head into Strong Stuff to get our nails and tan and all the rest of it done. Well, it’ll just be a pedicure for me. As much as I enjoy the freedom of wearing sandals, my feet are in no condition to be seen in public now that I’m pretty much on them twelve hours a day. I’ve never had a pedicure before, but Sharon assures me it will change my life. I don’t think Majella will let me wear my footies with my bridesmaid dress anyway – it’ll be strappy sandals all the way. I finally found the perfect dress among the thirty-seven-odd I ordered online. A simple blue chiffon tea dress with cap sleeves and a sash that’s almost the same ivory as Majella’s dress. It’s perfect. I still have about fifteen others I need to return, though. I must remember to do that tomorrow.

Sharon said we could come in after closing time so we have the run of the salon. Everyone – Maj, Dee, Denise, Sinéad and Maeve – is there when I tip in at ten past seven. They’re all huddled around the computer on the reception desk, screaming and gesturing at the screen.

‘That’s her, that’s definitely her,’ Dee is saying. ‘She was standing at the pump talking on the phone but she had two more in her other hand. That’s what caught my attention in the first place. I thought to myself, why would anyone need so many phones? And at the pump, too. It’s no great shakes.’

I’m about to point out that the decorative pump, and the Tidy Towns committee’s controversial decision to paint it red, is one of the reasons Ballygobbard was commended in the Pride of Place Competition, Population 300 –1,000, in 2015. But I say nothing. It’s not the time.

‘Ais, it’s that celebrity party planner! She was in BGB the other day. The Indo has pictures online.’

I nod and try to look interested. I actually knew Mandy was in BGB but obviously hadn’t said anything. I didn’t see her myself but James had had what he described as a ‘challenging’ meeting with her.

‘I could just tell she was American,’ Dee says knowingly. ‘Even though I was going nearly forty.’

When will she respect the thirty kilometres per hour speed limit in the village? That’s what I want to know.

‘Has James said much about it?’ Maeve asks as I shrug off my anorak.

‘No, we, eh, we don’t really talk much about work. He’s just involved in the building side of it, sure.’

‘He must know something,’ Maeve insists, frustrated.

‘So are we going to start the treatments now or …?’ I say, absolutely desperate to change the subject. I’m about to fake some kind of seizure – anything – when there’s a knock on the glass door and I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s Lisa Gleeson, waving frantically.

‘Sorry,’ Maeve goes, ‘she lost a nail trying to glue a hurl back onto a cake topper and I said you’d be open late tonight, Sharon. I didn’t know it was just for us.’

Cliodhna Ó Súilleabháin jumps up from the chair at the reception desk. ‘I’ll do it. I only put them on her yesterday.’

‘Skippy Brennan was saying on the radio the other day that he’s convinced it’s Emilia Coburn’s birthday party, but I looked it up and her birthday’s in November,’ Sinéad says.

‘Maybe it’s Ben Dixon’s?’ Dee suggests before Sharon lets out an uncharacteristic roar.

‘Will everyone decide what they’re having done and we can try to get out of here by midnight?’

The girls start studying the nail books intently as Cliodhna opens the door and lets Lisa in.

‘I’ve news,’ she says conspiratorially. Oh God, not her too. The girls all lean forward in anticipation as she sits down and prepares to deliver her gossip.

‘Well, I heard from Martin Kelly’s cousin – she was in the hotel today pricing a communion – that Dicey Kelly was caught taking money out of the church collection basket last week. He had hundreds in two euro coins.’

The girls all sit back, disappointed.

‘Who hasn’t taken a fiver to get milk and bread on the way home, to be fair?’ Majella says, holding out her hands for Cliodhna to get to work. Lisa’s gossip is shite but I’m delighted that she’s distracted them all from talking about Emilia.

‘I’m sort of disappointed Emilia Coburn’s getting married in France,’ Sinéad goes. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. There’s no escape.

‘I was hoping she’d have a winter wedding,’ Denise says, staring wistfully out the window. ‘She has that colouring that would look good in the snow. Imagine she wore a fur cape? Stunning. You’d love that, Sharon.’

Sharon has an extensive collection of faux fur, a coat for every occasion. Weight Watchers Maura always told us to avoid it since it ‘adds unnecessary volume’, but truth be told, I’d love a little stole for a wedding now and then. Sharon’s very focused on Dee’s nails, though, and just gives a nod.

‘How’s everyone’s Trim for Tenerife going?’ Denise asks. Denise was like a rake before she had baby Cumhall and she stayed much the same after she had him, so I don’t know why she’s going on about Trim for Tenerife. The girls chat about how they’ve ‘been good’, and Sinéad reveals she tried eating celery for a week but gave up after two hours because she just really hates celery. I can’t help but mention my steps are off the charts at the moment, what with all the running around I’m doing.

I notice that Sharon is still very quiet and I wonder is she thick with me for landing the whole hen party in on top of her like this. I’ve definitely felt a bit of a vibe off her this past while, but I know I’m feeling a bit sensitive about everything and stressed about leaving BallyGoBrunch for the weekend. Carol assures me everything will be grand. I ordered the tiny racks of lamb last week for the wedding, and Carol’s been practising in the meantime cooking them to pink perfection to slice into little chops. She promised me we won’t be giving them food poisoning, but I won’t be happy until we’re twenty-four hours the other side of that wedding.

‘I’ve more news, actually,’ Lisa pipes up, looking put out that her Dicey Kelly revelation wasn’t the bombshell she was hoping. ‘The date is confirmed for that big party in Garbally. Someone I know who works in a fancy restaurant in Dublin said half their part-time staff are taking 27 April off to work at it.’

‘Jesus, that’s only a month away!’ Dee squeals. ‘The excitement.’

‘And it’s only a week before your wedding, Maj,’ Sinéad adds.

‘I know, God!’ Majella laughs. ‘Imagine it was the same day? I’d go spare. All eyes on me, please!’ The girls laugh and move on to chatting about what they’re packing for the hen, and I finally relax.

‘Are you all set for Tenerife, Maj?’ Maeve asks.

‘Oh yeah, I have a different white dress for every day.’

Lisa jumps off her chair, nail fixed, and heads for the door. ‘No ethnic food, okay?’ she says seriously. ‘You don’t want to be getting the shits in the middle of the street and destroying one of them.’