Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) (5 page)

In all honesty, there was no need to be concerned.  Sophie was her daughter, her own flesh and blood.  She and Robert wouldn’t
dream
of doing anything that would put her home in jeopardy, would they?

June 21st, 5.00 p.m.

Dara Campbell watched with interest as the room fell silent, and the man stood up to speak.  She sat forward and took a tiny sip from her glass. This should be interesting.

“Um, thank you all very much for coming here today,” the groom began, his voice shaking nervously, his complexion deathly white against his fair hair. “I, ah – really hope you all have a great day.” 

A pause – a very
long
pause, Dara thought, feeling for him.  The room remained silent, and the guests watched him expectantly. 

Eventually he spoke again, this time his voice barely audible.  “Um, thanks to the hotel for providing this nice food, and ah – thank you all for coming. I hope you have a great day.”

Red-faced, he sat down to faint uneasy applause from the guests and, Dara noted, plenty of raised eyebrows. 

She could almost read their minds.  That was it? they were thinking.  That was
all
Mark Russell had to say on a big day like today? On his own wedding day?  What about thanking his beautiful bride, or telling some romantic story about how they met, and reiterating how he was the luckiest man in the world to be spending the rest of his life with her?  Oh, and not to mention thanking the priest for such a lovely ceremony!  Never mind the bride, forgetting the priest was a serious no-no, and by the sour look on the man’s face, Dara noted, Fr Deegan wasn’t at all impressed to have been overlooked.

But something told Dara that this was all they could reasonably expect today from the anxious groom. The poor thing was so nervous he couldn’t even remember his vows throughout the ceremony, let alone the most basic wedding-speech clichés!

“Oh, and before I forget!” Mark again leapt up out of his seat.

Dara could almost hear a collective sigh of relief from everyone in attendance.  This mightn’t be such a total disaster after all. 

“Thanks very much to the bridesmaids!” he spluttered, as if relieved to have something worthwhile to add.  “I think you’ll all agree that they look, um – they look um, very –” finally the word came to him, “they look very nice!”

There was a short stunned silence, but eventually Mark was rewarded with another bout of weak applause, and a look that would cut diamonds from the bridesmaids, each of whom, Dara knew, had that morning spent two hours at the hairdresser’s, another hour at the beautician’s, and untold time in front of the mirror to look that ‘nice’. 

She smiled. 

Then, instead of sitting down alongside his bride, the groom slipped away from the table and, moving fast as his long legs could carry him, headed straight for the bathroom.  Incredulous, all eyes in the room followed his every move.  Poor thing, Dara thought, shaking her head in mild amusement.  Mark wasn’t at all used to public speaking, and her heart really went out to him.

Again there was a low murmur, and a slight shuffling amongst the crowd.  The best man, a good friend of Mark’s, and a man who himself wasn’t the best at public speaking, quickly picked up the microphone and tried his best to lighten the mood by reading out some supposedly witty emails from friends.

Listening absently, Dara sat back in her seat and fiddled with a slice of wedding cake.  She couldn’t help imagining what kind of speech Noah would make, had it been their wedding day. 

Confident and utterly charismatic, no doubt he would begin by telling the guests some silly story about the early days of their relationship, before launching into a romantic and heartfelt account of his feelings for Dara – something that would have every woman in the room – and possibly some of the men – in tears. 

With a flash of those intense green eyes and just a few simple words, Noah would make each guest feel as though they were taking part in something hugely important – and, she thought with a grin – he’d make doubly sure the bridesmaids were suitably complimented!  The word ‘nice’ just didn’t feature in his eloquent vocabulary, and she could only imagine how he’d describe her on the day. Cheesy as it might seem, Noah always had a way of making Dara feel as though she was the most beautiful woman in the world. 

And of course, Noah wouldn’t look too bad himself all dressed up in wedding gear, she thought, trying to ignore a slight shiver of desire as she imagined how amazing one of those starched white shirts would look against his tanned skin, or how the tailored jacket would really emphasise those broad shoulders.  She sighed inwardly.  Yes, he would look utterly incredible.

Still, there was no point in thinking about Noah Morgan at a time like this, Dara told herself.  No point at all.

The best man had just finished speaking, and a sharp nudge from Amy on her left brought her thoughts right back to the present. 

“I can’t believe he said we looked
nice
!” her sister hissed, incredulous. “Nice! What kind of a word is that? Does he not
realise
these dresses are Maria Grachvogel?” Gritting her teeth, she added, “Does he not appreciate how much bloody
effort
it took to fit into them?” Normally a size sixteen, Amy had found it particularly difficult to lose weight for the wedding, and today she’d expected to be suitably commended for her efforts. 

“I’ll give him ‘nice’!” agreed Serena, equally miffed.  “Although I suppose we were lucky to get a mention at all.  He said nothing about Fr Deegan, and he completely forgot to thank Mum and Dad for welcoming him into the family!”

Dara repositioned the neckline of her dress. “It’s not easy to stand up and speak in a roomful of people like that, you know,” she said gently. “I think he did quite well, considering.”

Amy tut-tutted once more as the three girls watched the groom make his way back to the top table.  The best man immediately began teasing him about “having to make an urgent telephone call” and now the guests were laughing, the early awkwardness having diminished somewhat.

“Well, maybe he
was
a bit nervous,” Serena whispered, “but that doesn’t give him any excuse to forget about you.  I mean, how could he
not
mention you?”

“It doesn’t matter, Serena,” Dara shushed her as the groom approached, looking somewhat relaxed and much more like his normal self. 

Mark took his seat alongside his bride and gave her an apologetic smile.  “I’m sorry – I really made a mess of that, didn’t I?” he said gently.

“Don’t be silly,” Dara soothed, smiling back at her new husband. “You were absolutely fine.”

                                                          ******

As she and Mark danced their first dance as a married couple, Dara studied the smiling faces of the people around the dance floor – her sisters, her married friends, her mum and dad.  It was a little disconcerting to find that, not only did they look pleased and delighted to see her and Mark together, they also looked a damn sight relieved. 

Did they know she still had thoughts about Noah, she wondered, panicking a little.  Did they know that only just last night she had to talk herself out of pulling out of this wedding altogether?

But no, she thought, irrelevancies like a lost love or pre-wedding nerves wouldn’t really matter to most of Dara’s friends, or indeed her family.  Such nonsense was only the stuff of romantic novels and soppy Hollywood films.  No, this was the real world, and in fairness, having turned the dreaded age of thirty-four, Dara should count herself lucky that she had found a man, never mind one who actually wanted to marry her!  And even better, a man who didn’t seem to mind the fact that she was one of those high-powered career women who’d run rings around you, and unlike most of the married thirty-somethings in this country – and due to the aforementioned high-powered career – had actually been able to afford a home of her own.

But Dara knew well that a guy like Mark would never be threatened by the things that seemed to really bother some of her old friends and her family.  Mark loved her independence, he appreciated her work ethic, and understood her better than her oldest friends – most of whom had become decidedly distant in the last few years, when one by one they’d all taken the matrimonial plunge, and she had been the only one who remained stubbornly single.  Not to mention the only one who’d remained as attractive as she’d been at eighteen.

With her long dark naturally curly hair, pretty face and curvy figure, Dara was a good friend and all that, but really, when any sane married woman thought about it, she was way too much of a temptation to have around.  At least, that’s what one of her married friends Clodagh had informed her a while back, after one too many Tia Marias.

And up until today, Dara’s single state had been the bane of her mother’s life.  Hannah Campbell just couldn’t understand how a girl as attractive as her oldest daughter couldn’t attract a decent man.  She and Eddie had begun to despair that there was something seriously wrong with Dara, that maybe God forbid she swung the other way!  Of course, they wouldn’t dream of mentioning something like that out loud, but privately, each had their own suspicions.

Never once did they suspect that Dara’s single state might be self-imposed, and that she might be perfectly happy with everything she’d achieved in life so far.  She’d studied for years to become a solicitor, and now worked in a well-respected Dublin law firm.  She loved her apartment, a cosy modern duplex situated near Sandycove, boasting fantastic views across Dublin Bay.  Luckily she’d bought it early in her career just before the explosion in house prices, and she knew she was sitting on a nice piece of equity.  She’d made some good friends in Dublin, and although many of them were married too, they didn’t seem to feel the same urgency as those back home in Wexford to get her married
off.  And then of course, she had the perpetually single Ruth, who hadn’t been able to come today and, Dara thought wryly, probably wouldn’t have come anyway.  Her friend, a die-hard romantic, had made no secret of the fact that she seriously disapproved of what was happening today.

For a very long time, Dara had been quite content being single and had no great need or desire to be part of a couple.  She conscientiously ignored her mother’s loaded remarks and digs about her being ‘too independent’, and after a while, she learned to laugh off her friend’s sympathetic glances and pointed questioning.   She knew well that some of them had settled for men they wouldn’t normally dream of accepting for fear of being left on the shelf.   Some of them had even admitted it.

“He’s a nice guy, and there aren’t too many of those left these days,” one of her oldest friends, Sinead, had told her, shortly after her engagement to the slightly dull but pleasant Nick. “I’m tired of going out to nightclubs and looking for the man of my dreams, Dara.  And lately, I’ve begun to understand that maybe there really is no such thing.  Anyway, what’s wrong with good old-fashioned fun and companionship?  It doesn’t all have to be bolts of lightning, you know.”

At the time, Dara had been horrified.  Surely Sinead wasn’t thinking – wasn’t
dreaming
of settling? Why would anyone do that? But back then, Dara had been twenty-eight years old, and back then, she still believed in fairytales.   

At the time, she had been lucky enough to experience those bolts of lightning, and had found the man of her dreams.  OK, perhaps she had made a mistake in letting him slip through her fingers, but as she told herself afterwards, the timing had been all wrong, and they had been a bit too young.  But there was no doubt whatsoever in her mind that Noah
Morgan was the man she was eventually going to marry, and no matter what the others might say, she knew they’d be together again.  All she had to do was wait for him to come back to her. 

So until that happened, she’d had no intention of settling for second best, no intention of wasting her time on other men, none of whom could live up to Noah anyway.  Sinead was an idiot for even thinking about marrying someone who didn’t make her weak at the knees.  Dara would never, ever do that, she was certain of it. 

But, she reflected now with a slight sigh, she’d been certain about a lot of things back then. And how wrong had she been?

“Dara, are you OK?” Now Mark was looking at her worriedly.  “You seem miles away.”

She smiled. “I’m fine,” she said, offering up a silent prayer that Mark couldn’t read her thoughts just then.  Because if he could, her new husband would have discovered that Dara had eventually given up on the fairytale – and, in the end, had little choice but to settle for reality.

“Wow, look at that!” Mark said to his wife a few days later, as awestruck, he tried to take in the extraordinarily all-encompassing sight of Rome’s magnificent Colosseum.  

It was truly spectacular, Dara had to agree – especially lit up at night like this – and evoked everything noble and majestic that she’d ever imagined about the city’s ancient history. The grand amphitheatre stood imposingly at the top of the Via Claudia, and she and Mark stared out of the taxi-cab in wonderment at their very first view of the world-famous landmark.

She had finally made it, she thought, exhilarated at the thought of exploring the city and all the reminders of its glorious past.  Having been fascinated by the history and splendour of ancient Rome for as long as she could remember, she had always dreamed of visiting the famous seat of the Empire.  And just then, catching sight of another incredible Roman landmark, the Arch of Constantine, she wondered why on earth it had taken her so long to come here. 

The answer niggled in the back of her brain.
You know exactly why
, she argued with herself.  She hadn’t come here before because she’d always thought her first visit would be with –

“Wow!” Typically eloquent, Mark couldn’t contain his amazement.  “I mean wow, Dara, I had no idea this place would be so cool!”

Dara had to smile. Yes, it had taken a bit of convincing to persuade her new husband that Rome would be the perfect place in which to spend their honeymoon.  She knew he’d had his eye on somewhere more exotic and much more luxurious, like the Caribbean or the Maldives. In fact, it was only when she intimated that they might get tickets for a football game at the Olympic Stadium to watch Roma or Lazio thrash out a pre-season soccer game, that he had been at all enthusiastic.

But from then on in, Rome was the place, and Mark had thrown himself with gusto into finding them a suitable hotel central to all the sights – perfect for the hours of exploring he knew his wife would insist they do.  He had no interest in history or ancient sights – as far as he was concerned, if they were gone, what good were they?

“History is grand and all that, but what’s in the past, is in the past. You can learn from it, but you shouldn’t let it dictate the future,” he’d said, when Dara had raved exuberantly about Rome’s ancient legacies, and the importance of being able to tell Leonardo from Michelangelo.

Still, Mark knew that these things were important to her, and she knew that he would allow himself to be dragged to this museum, and stand for hours staring paintings in that gallery, as he’d done many times throughout their relationship.

He was like that, though, she thought, smiling affectionately at her new husband, his face animated as he looked excitedly from left to right.  Mark was so laid-back, so easy to please and rarely one for confrontation.  In fairness, even if the city didn’t have a famous football stadium to keep him happy, she was certain he would have gone along with her preference anyway.  In Mark Russell’s carefree world, the less hassle the better, and Dara didn’t think she had ever come across anyone less selfish. 

It had been this facet of his personality that had endeared him to her in the first place, she thought, remembering how a mutual friend had introduced them just less than two years before.  She hadn’t been actively searching for a relationship, and didn’t think much would come of it, but Mark was such good fun and so easy to be with, that they sort of ‘fell into’ a relationship of sorts. 

And now here they were, on their honeymoon – and in Rome, of all places. 

******

A day or two later, Dara was sitting alone drinking espresso outside a small
trattoria
at the Piazza della Rotunda, the afternoon Italian sun gently warming her face. 

Mark was back at their hotel room – a charming boutique hotel he’d found not far from the Trevi Fountain – having a well-earned nap.  He’d been terrific company so far, and had really enjoyed their visit to the Colosseum and the Roman Forum the day before.  In particular, he’d been completely fascinated by the remains of the Circus Maximus – the 300,000-seater stadium in which – the guide informed an impressed Mark – a variety of old Roman competitive sports, including chariot-racing, had been held from the fourth century BC. 

He had
not
been impressed however, by the catacombs at San Callisto where they had been led through a series of eerie passageways stacked with thousands of ancient human bones. Dara had found his discomfort amusing – a sports physiotherapist by profession, she had been sure he wouldn’t bat an eyelid at the sight, but instead he’d found it all decidedly creepy.

But this morning, the newly-weds had gone to visit the Vatican museum and the Sistine Chapel, and after the first few hours of wandering around looking at sculptures and paintings, and then standing for ages “just looking at the ceiling” Mark admitted he’d had enough.  “I think it’s the crowds that are wearing me down more than anything,” he’d said apologetically, before kissing Dara on the forehead and letting her carry on alone with her ‘staring’.

Dara had to agree. She knew Rome would be busy – it was, after all, one of the most visited capital cities in the world – but even she had been taken aback by the number of tourists on the ‘Dan Brown Trail’; people visiting the sights and locations made even more famous by the American thriller writer’s immensely popular novel.  From where she sat, just across from Giacomo della Porta'
s
fountain, with the Pantheon to her right, she could, at that very moment, make out at least three different people studying a copy of the bestseller, and looking up at the Pantheon with delighted interest.  Notwithstanding the crowds, she thought it was wonderful that a simple book could get so many people interested in European history and architecture.

Dara had always been interested in history.  In school, she’d been fascinated by stories of Egyptian scribes, Roman emperors, and Italian painters and sculptors – much to the anxiety of her mother, who didn’t think it right that her eldest daughter should be interested in ancient gladiators and such like, when it would be more in her line to read about princes and princesses and happily ever after.

But Dara found it
all
incredibly romantic, these ancient and glorious accomplishments and exotic languages; she couldn’t get enough of it.  In class, she loved hearing about the European conquistadors who set off around the world hoping to discover new lands and cultures, the powerful popes and kings who commissioned beautiful paintings and sculptures that still stood the test of time.  Upon visiting the Sistine Chapel that morning and seeing for the first time Michelangelo’s famous ceiling fresco above her – still there six hundred years after Pope Julius II first commissioned it – she had been completely awestruck.  Mark agreed that it was very nice indeed, but also pointed out that it “needed a bit of touching up”. 

Studious by nature, and having achieved record marks in her school exams, it had been Dara’s father who suggested she put her talents to good use, and take up studies in Law or Medicine.  She had very much hoped to study the Classics at university, but he had put the kybosh on that notion from the very beginning.

“What would you get from that rubbish?” he’d said at the time. “What kind of living could you make knowing nothing about anything other than all these nancy-boy painters and chippies who are long dead? You need to learn a good trade, Dara, something useful.” Eddie Campbell remembered only too well the periods of unemployment this country suffered for over a decade, and if he could help it, no daughter of his would ever have to join that soul-destroying queue to the dole office. 

“At least until you get married, pet,” her mother added, quickly.  If Hannah could help it, no daughter of hers would ever be one of those high-powered career women who had no time for looking after their husbands or raising families. 

“But it’s what I love, Dad,” a teenage Dara had protested, but no-nonsense Eddie wouldn’t have it.  So, reluctant to go against her dad’s wishes, and still herself unsure what she wanted to do with her life, Dara acquiesced.  Being rather squeamish by nature, Medicine was out, so she thought that at least if she studied Law, her near-perfect grasp of Latin might stand to her in some way.  And despite herself, she found she enjoyed studying the intricacies of the legal system, and her natural work ethic suited all the long hours of pouring over old cases and judgements – which really, she supposed, could be considered ancient history of sorts. 

So, with typical diligence, Dara settled happily into her chosen career, and put aside her worthy but futile interest in the humanities, at least until Noah Morgan came along.

A bit of a romantic, Noah too seemed to share her fascination with the past, her wonder at the scientists and artists who lived and died for their creative endeavours.  While he’d studied English and History in university, he had absolutely no interest in any specific career. He got a job when it suited him, and when it didn’t, he simply moved on to the next one.  This sustained Noah’s main passion in life, which (apart from Dara) was travel. 

For Dara, their mutual interest in all things historical was a revelation, and merely increased her assurance that she and Noah had something special, that they were truly on the same wavelength, that they were meant to be together. 

But, Dara thought now, as she – a newly married woman – sat in the city that she and the love of her life had sworn they would one day visit together, she had been wrong.