Are You Ready? (21 page)

‘You know, Luke, you could at least look me in the eyes as I leave.'

Luke gazed into the big brown eyes of his ex-girlfriend and sighed. Neither spoke, and eventually Luke picked up the blue Nigella Lawson cookie jar.

‘This is yours. You might as well take it. I never really liked homemade cookies anyway.'

Molly felt like hitting Luke over the head with the heavy jar, but then thought that would be very un-domestic-goddess-like, and instead picked the jar up and took one last lingering look around the apartment. After many discussions Molly and Luke had decided that it would be better for Luke to keep the one-bedded rented apartment. Molly knew how much he liked it, and she also knew that on her salary there was no way she could afford to live there by herself. So, instead, she was returning home. Her mum kept saying
she didn't mind, but Molly knew that by the time she was thirty her parents had hoped she would be getting married, or buying a house – not moving back home. As she looked around the brightly coloured rooms she felt a lump in her throat, remembering the first day they had moved in. They had been so excited finally to be living alone, and as they had unpacked boxes and eaten take-out pizza Luke had yet again told her how much he loved her, and how he couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life with her. That day felt like a dream now. As Molly took one last look at their small balcony and remembered cramped yet fun barbecues and beers there on sunny days, she felt her life was slipping out of her grasp. She felt lost: life without Luke, without a partner, felt so alien at her age. Molly didn't know how she would cope. All her friends had partners, and life normally revolved around double dates, or nights out with them all. Now she would be the lonely single girl, living at home with her parents. It couldn't get any sadder.

Luke politely walked Molly to the front door, and Molly had to stop herself from begging him to change his mind. But she knew he wouldn't, and a part of her didn't want to take him back anyway. What he felt and thought about her now was breaking her heart. She handed him her apartment key.

‘Thanks, Molly,' he said, as he took it. He tried to shake her hand. It was so cold and businesslike, Molly thought broken-heartedly.

Luckily Molly's hands were too full, so instead he just gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, but it was still
cold and awkward. Molly didn't know what to say, and so just walked out of the door and headed to her mum's car, which she had borrowed and which was now full of her clothes, CDs and junk. She looked back to say goodbye to Luke, but the door was closed. So that's the end of that, Molly said to herself. She squashed the cookbooks and cookie jar into the boot, and headed home, but she was only two minutes up the road when she had to pull over. As the tears poured out of her she thought of the one thing that she had left with Luke in the apartment – her heart – and with that she cried until she knew she had to go home and face her parents.

Molly heard a knock at her bedroom door. Her mum's head appeared.

‘Can I come in, Molly?'

Molly pulled her pyjamas on. After years of living with her boyfriend she was finding it hard to get used to living at home with her parents, and their habit of dropping in on her unexpectedly.

Molly could barely remember getting into bed the previous night. She'd been crying all night and had hardly slept a wink. She'd heard the milkman and newspaper man arriving at 7 a.m., but she must have finally dozed off after that. Molly's mum sat down on her bed. She had a plate of toasted cheese, ham and tomato sandwiches in one hand and a can of Coke in the other.

‘I thought you could do with this, pet,' she said. She hugged Molly while she gulped back the Coke.

‘My favourite,' Molly said. She sat up in bed and tucked into the roasting-hot sandwiches.

‘I take it it didn't go too well with Luke last night,
then?' her mum asked, as she opened the curtains. The room was strewn with boxes and bags from Molly's apartment.

‘We're still broken up, if that's what you mean, Mum,' Molly said quietly.

‘I'm so sorry, pet, I really am. I just don't understand what went wrong. I know it is none of my business, but I still think Luke must be a bit jealous of your cooking. But he'll get over that, you'll see.'

‘I'm not sure that he will.' Molly sighed. She tried not to shout out that she knew it was totally over, and that Luke didn't give a toss about her any more.

‘Maybe Luke was right,' she said. ‘Am I obsessed with work and my career? I should have seen how unhappy all those long hours I worked were making him. It's funny because he was the one that encouraged me to leave the bank and follow my heart, and then, when I did, I guess he didn't like it. But still, no matter what anyone says, he hurt me. He really hurt me, Mum.'

‘I know he did, pet,' Molly's mum said, giving her a kiss. ‘You have your work cut out for you in this room, Molly, but why don't we forget about it today, and just head off somewhere? Just you and me, spend a Sunday afternoon like we used to. We could go to Brittas Bay for the day if you liked?'

Molly looked round the room that was frozen in time from when she moved out years ago, with its Hello Kitty cushions, college accountancy books and massive U2 poster on the back of the door.

‘OK, Mum. Let me get dressed and I'll worry about this mess later.' And with that Molly decided she had
cried enough in the last twenty-four hours, and that a day spent in the sunshine with her mum would be the perfect medicine for suddenly becoming single.

The beach at Brittas, County Wicklow was full of young families, with kids running everywhere, delighted after months of winter and heavy clothes to be feeling free in their swimsuits and T-shirts. Molly and her mum walked to the centre of the beach and found a nice spot that was a bit quieter and had less children, kite-flying and football matches. Brittas brought back such happy memories for Molly: her grandad had owned a mobile home here when she was little, and she used to love visiting him for the whole summer, where it always seemed to be sunny, and the days were full of swimming, playing and barbecues. Whole days were spent just building sandcastles, or having picnics. Molly and her brother used to especially love spending bank holiday weekends here, when all the local summer kids would be allowed to travel around in a trailer on the back of a local tractor and be taken on a tour of the mobile home park. Molly used to feel so proud waving to her parents as they passed her grandad's mobile home; and in the evenings, after each child received a chocolate bar and can of Coke, they all used to head to the big campfire on the beach. It was a memory Molly would never forget.

‘Are you thinking about Luke?' Molly's mum asked as she put on her sunhat and sunglasses.

‘No, I'm actually thinking of Grandad and all the summers we spent here on this beach.'

‘Oh, they were the simple days then, there was no going abroad, and trying to take screaming kids on a long-haul flight. No, with Brittas we could hop in the car once your dad was finished work on a Friday, and be down in time to make dinner and have a glass of wine in McDaniels pub. I never saw you and your brother so happy as all the days you spent in the water, and running around on the beach.'

Molly smiled. ‘Remember the summer Hurricane Charlie hit and we had to abandon the beach and try to make it back to Dad in Dublin? I thought we would die.' Molly laughed.

‘Don't laugh, Molly, how do you think I felt, trying to drive back in that storm with you and your brother complaining because we couldn't stop for chips and you had forgotten your armbands? I'll never forget that! But I suppose that was the only stressful day we had here, the rest of the days were just full of relaxation and fun. I do miss your grandad and that mobile home, though. Maybe when you have kids you can buy a place down here yourself, and we can relive those summer memories.'

Molly forced a smile and tried to push ideas of Luke and their never-to-happen-now marriage out of her mind. Instead she opened a cooler box that she often used to transport catering food, but which was now full of treats for the beach. She had been in no mood to cook before they left, so instead they had stopped off for supplies on the way into Brittas. Molly really was reliving her younger beach days, by tucking in to a Tayto crisp sandwich, followed by Coke and a
Magnum ice-cream. As they ate she saw a group of guys carrying surf boards into the water; they were all joking, smiling and enjoying the sunshine. Molly thought one of them looked like Scott Williams, and for a moment they exchanged glances, and he seemed to smile and nod at her. It can't be him, though, Molly thought: he would never be exciting or relaxed enough to go surfing. It must be someone else, she thought, licking her ice-cream, and watching the guys having what seemed like lots of fun.

Herself and her mum ate up the rest of their snacks and then just napped in the sunshine. When she awoke Molly could feel her skin tingle with sunburn, so she took off her shorts and T-shirt and ran for the sea. The water was freezing! It always was in Ireland, but the coldness made her feel awake and alive, and as she swam back and forth, glancing back at her mum, who was sunbathing and reading a magazine on the beach, Molly thought: I can do this, I can get over Luke. The day at the beach had not only given her a tan, but hope – and that was exactly what she needed.

Sarah was going to mind baby Fiona for the day while her sister Mel went into town, to go shopping. And as Sarah's days off were often in the middle of the week, Mel was delighted to be able to shop on a quiet day in town. Sarah had been so excited about having Fiona all to herself! Her godchild was so good, and seemed to spend most of her time either sleeping or just laughing. Sarah thought as it was such a beautiful day she would take Fiona for a walk down to Sandycove beach, and maybe pop into Cavistons in Glasthule to buy some food. Hugh had said he might be able to drop by for lunch; Sarah hoped he would, as she was dying to show baby Fiona off to him.

Mel came into the kitchen in a whirlwind of stress and baby accessories.

‘This is Fiona's milk, some spare clothes, spare diapers, spare bottles, spare soothers, spare wipes, spare sunhats, spare—'

‘Stop it, Mel, I'll be fine. I've looked after her before.
You just enjoy Grafton Street and being baby-free for a day.'

Sarah literally pushed Mel out the door, but not before Mel turned. ‘Fiona is perfectly healthy, but just watch out when you change her, her stomach has been a little upset lately. But she was fine last night, so I hope she will be OK for you today.'

‘No problem, Mel, she looks fine to me. I'll see you later tonight.'

And with that Mel was gone and it was just Sarah and her godchild. Sarah made sure every inch of Fiona that was remotely exposed was well-covered in sun cream, as the day was getting hot. She herself was in a simple summer dress she had picked up in Zara, and was delighted it was finally hot and sunny enough to wear. When she had made sure she had everything Fiona needed she locked the house and headed off towards Sandycove beach. The walk would do them both good. Sarah pushed the pram and received some doting glances and nice compliments from other women on how cute Fiona was, and she felt proud that being a mother came so easily to her. Maybe one day herself and Hugh would be walking their own baby to Sandycove.

When they arrived at the beach, Sarah made sure Fiona was in the shade and happy before pulling out a bottle of water and a sketch pad. As she took a drink of the cold refreshing water, she looked at her previous sketches for Ali's wedding invite. She was almost finished, and was meeting Ali at the weekend to hand
over the last proof, so Ali could take it to the printer. Sarah still couldn't believe her idea and sketch would be seen by all of Ali's friends and family. She was delighted with herself, but also nervous about what people would think of her invite when they opened the envelope and saw her vision of an ‘ideal bride'. Ali kept reassuring her that everyone would love it, and be jealous that she had such an original and one-off wedding invite. Sarah wasn't so sure, but this project had encouraged her to get back into art, and the last few weeks she had spent a good portion of her wages on canvases and new paints, and started losing herself in evenings full of painting and colour.

After an hour of sketching and chatting to Fiona, Sarah started to get hungry, so she packed up her belongings and headed towards Glasthule village. Cavistons was a family-run business renowned for its fresh deli-style food, with everything from fish to homemade lasagnes and cheeses on offer. Many a person held a dinner party in South Dublin, and tried to pretend the food was all their own, while everyone knew it was from Cavistons! Sarah stocked up on fish, bread, cheese, some quiches, a salad, and a bottle of pink lemonade, and began the walk home. Hugh had texted her to say he had a meeting near Monkstown so would be able to swing by her place for lunch with herself and Fiona.

Sarah hadn't realized how tiring it was to push a baby and buggie while walking and holding bags heavy with food, and by the time she got home to Monkstown she was in bits, and needed a quick
lie-down, before refreshing herself for when Hugh arrived. No wonder mothers always looked wrecked, Sarah thought, as she caught a reflection of herself in the mirror. Her beautiful sundress now clung to her with sweat, while her perfectly straightened hair resembled a bush. She no longer felt like a glamorous yummy-mummy and she quickly tried to fix herself, and Fiona, before the doorbell rang, and Hugh arrived. When she opened the door he was standing there with a bunch of fresh flowers. He gave her a kiss and hug, and she ushered him in to the sunny kitchen and opened the pink lemonade.

‘How was your meeting?' she enquired.

‘It was great, business is going very well at the moment, must be all this glorious weather. It makes people happy to spend, spend, spend!'