I breathe a sigh of relief when I finally spot the sign for Castlefarrow House ahead on the left.
‘Thank God, I thought we’d never get here,’ John says, flicking on the indicator. We’re fairly clocking up the mileage on the Micra between me going between Dublin and BGB a few times a week, and then John using it to bop around whenever I’m home. He’s waiting until the gym is up and running before he buys his own set of wheels from Eamon Filan. That shouldn’t be too long now, with the grand opening set for July. It’s not nearly ready but he’s confident three months is plenty of time to get everything finished and up to code. There was some initial animosity out of Mags from Zumba with Mags, but he convinced her to forsake her classes in the town hall for one of his new state-of-the-art studio spaces, and she had to admit her customers will be delighted to have access to showers and potable water, rather than a horrifically squeaky floor and condensation dripping down the walls. It won’t be long till he’s running a fitness empire, I tell him. There’s already a waiting list for his HIIT classes.
Me, Sadhbh and Elaine or Ruby have had a couple of nights out and they really helped me start to feel like myself again. One of them was in a vegetarian restaurant – and you’d hardly miss the chicken at all, although it was very mushroom-heavy. We had another night in with Marsha the cat, and she took a fancy to Sadhbh and wrapped herself around her neck like a scarf. I’ve never seen a person so uncomfortable.
I flick off the stereo as John swings the car into a long, winding avenue. After the Rangers match, we listened to three episodes of Blood and Bordeaux, Síomha and Cara’s podcast, on the four-hour journey from BGB. I’m not pushed on the concept – they drink wine and discuss famous murders – but the one about conspiracy theories was good. I sent it on to Majella for her commute. She still thinks Princess Diana’s car crash was an inside job. She sent me back a thumbs-up picture, and with her cardigan open I swear I could already make out a little bump. She officially told the girls the news once she hit the twelve weeks, but it wasn’t like everyone hadn’t guessed the first time she turned down a drink in Maguire’s. I’ve obviously already gone ahead and made a Majella’s Baby Shower WhatsApp group, even though it’s a bit early yet. I tried to suggest a Boho Baby or Vintage or even a Twinkle Twinkle Little Star theme but she’s adamant she wants it to be Magic Mike. I’m hoping the planning will keep my mind off what was supposed to be my own due date.
Up ahead, Castlefarrow House comes into view. It’s very Downton Abbey, but with a modern-looking glass extension to one side. John throws his arm over the back of my seat to reverse into a particularly tight parking space, and I feel that familiar tingling. We still haven’t had sex, but I think I might be ready. Ever since our time in the Plaza, hotels really get me going. I can’t even watch Four in a Bed any more.
‘Like a glove,’ I sigh, and he kisses me on the forehead while pulling up the handbrake.
‘Is that Trevor’s car over there?’ He nods at a black Volvo to our right.
‘I think so. Mammy said they were leaving early to beat the traffic.’ I don’t know what traffic she thought would be on the N7 at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning, but I said nothing. She’s been up the walls worrying about this trip. All I want is for her to relax and have a good time, and for Síomha and Cara to be nice to her.
The foyer of the hotel is warm and inviting, with a polished marble fireplace on the right-hand side and a wide mahogany reception desk straight ahead. There’s a round table in the centre with a massive flower arrangement and what looks to be a big bowl of something red and a stack of little glasses beside it. Very swish.
‘It’s complimentary for guests – I already asked.’ Mammy is suddenly beside me in a cloud of perfume that I don’t recognise.
‘Hiya, Mammy, you look lovely.’ She’s wearing the new jeans with a pink blouse and her hair is freshly blow-dried. Then I cop what’s on her feet. ‘Are they my good boots?’
‘You don’t mind, do you, Aisling? You left them under the stairs, and sure you’re not wearing them. I didn’t have time to get the jeans taken up.’
I suddenly feel a bit scruffy in my dress, fleece-lined tights and loafers. I didn’t even think to put heels on for our arrival, even though she told me several times it’s a four-and-a-half-star hotel.
John gives a shy nod. ‘You’re looking well, Marian.’ As if he doesn’t see her at least four times a week.
‘Help yourself to some fruit punch there, John – it’s included,’ she says, patting her hair. ‘Trevor is just inside in the bar watching the end of the rugby. We’re all checked in. Do you want to join us for a cup of tea?’
I catch John’s eye. ‘Er, no thanks, Mammy.’ He gives me the faintest smile. ‘We’re a bit wrecked from the drive.’
‘I’m the same myself, truth be told, but he won’t miss the match,’ she says, looking at her watch. ‘It’s just after four o’clock now, so we were thinking we could meet for dinner at seven?’ She passes me a little paper key-card wallet. ‘You’re in room 212.’
‘Great, thanks. Are the others here yet?’ I’m only asking because I’m hoping to avoid them for as long as I can. I can’t really be arsed making small talk for two days and two nights, and I’m pretty sure Síomha and Cara feel the same.
‘Still on the way – Trevor was just talking to Cara. They stopped off to do some shopping.’
‘Well, we’ll see you back here at seven, so.’
‘Now don’t forget to take some of that punch with you.’
****
It’s ten past seven when John and I are getting out of the lift. We ordered a bottle of prosecco to the room and one thing led to another and we ended up making good use of the four-poster bed. It was very romantic.
‘I missed this,’ he said afterwards, when I lay on his chest. ‘So did I,’ I told him, and I meant it. Our room has its own fireplace, and the bay window looks out over manicured gardens and beyond to the sea. If the thumping coming from next door was anything to go by, we’re not the only ones who were enjoying some afternoon delight.
I spot Síomha and Cara as soon as we walk into the restaurant. They’re sitting at a big table across from two dark-haired lads who look uncannily alike. I mean, it’s almost spooky. No sign of Mammy or Dr Trevor, and there I was worried about getting in trouble for being late.
‘Do you have a reservation this evening?’ The dicky-bowed maître d’ is nearly under my feet.
‘We’re with them.’ I gesture over to where the others are sitting.
His face lights up. ‘Ah, you’re guests of the Byrne family. Such a pleasure to have you here at Castlefarrow.’ He rustles up a stack of leather-bound menus. ‘Please follow me, and do let me know if there’s anything else you need this evening.’
Everyone at the table stops talking when the maître d’ arrives with me and John in tow. ‘And here you are,’ he announces, depositing the stack of menus. ‘I’ll bring more bread.’
Cara stands up first and we awkwardly hug. She’s wearing a gorgeous green velvet blazer. Mammy was right – they’re a very stylish family. ‘Aisling, hi. Nice to see you.’
‘Hiya. Love the jacket.’
‘Thanks, I just bought it in Kildare Village on the way. It was forty per cent off.’
Maybe we’re not that different after all.
‘This is Denis,’ she continues, pointing to the lad opposite her. ‘And that’s his brother, Matt.’
‘Hiya, lads.’ I give the boyfriends a little wave. Síomha leans towards me and we sort of press cheeks while I want the ground to open up and swallow me. John steps up like a hero and is friendly as anything, kissing them on both cheeks. Double-cheek kisses are something he’s seemingly embraced in his thirties, along with jalapeños on a pizza and an occasional espresso. My worldly man.
He breaks the ice with the boyfriends right away. ‘So you two are brothers, did I hear that right?’
‘We’re actually twins,’ Denis says.
John’s eyes narrow and they dart between him and Matt for a second.
‘Go on, you can say it,’ Matt sighs.
‘You’re identical!’
I cannot believe Mammy didn’t tell me that the sisters are going out with a set of twins. She knows I’ve had a fascination since I first started reading Sweet Valley High.
‘So which one if you is evil, then?’ John asks, pushing a bread roll onto my plate and spearing a curl of butter with his knife. ‘Go on, one of you has to be.’
Síomha and Cara exchange a look, and for a horrible second I’m terrified they’re going to storm out before we’ve even had a chance to order. But they both just burst out laughing.
‘It’s definitely Denis,’ Cara says with conviction. ‘He forgot our anniversary last year. Three years and not so much as a text.’
‘Hang on a second,’ Síomha says, holding up her hand. ‘Matt is clearly the evil one.’
‘Go on.’ Denis is delighted that the heat has shifted. ‘I might have some evidence to support this theory too. Aside from the fact he has my number saved in his phone under Organ Donor.’
Síomha folds her arms and looks at me. ‘I let him take my Beetle to Carlingford for a stag and he wrote it off.’
‘That was an honest accident, I swear!’
She turns to John. ‘He forgot to put the handbrake on and it rolled off the pier and into the Irish Sea.’
‘Yikes!’
‘It wasn’t my fault.’
‘Tell them why you were too distracted to remember the handbrake.’
‘I was trying to drive over a seagull,’ Matt admits solemnly.
Síomha shakes her head. ‘I told you, the actions of an evil twin.’
The two sisters and their twin boyfriends continue bickering over who’s good and who’s evil, and I feel myself start to relax. They actually seem kinda normal and sound. Maybe I was worrying about nothing. John squeezes my thigh under the table.
‘You alright?’ he whispers in my ear.
‘Thanks for being at your most charming,’ I whisper back. ‘You’re the dream buffer.’
‘Any time. You can make it up to me upstairs later.’
Suddenly a hush falls over the table and I hear one of the girls groan, I don’t know which, and mutter, ‘I almost forgot why we were dragged here.’
When I look up, Mammy and Dr Trevor are making their way towards our table with a carrier bag full of Easter eggs, followed closely by the maître d’.
‘Girls, you made it,’ Dr Trevor bellows. ‘Sorry to have kept you waiting.’ Then he turns to me. ‘Lovely to see you again, Aisling. Isn’t the view just spectacular? I believe we’re neighbours up on the second floor. ’