Tales From a Hen Weekend (29 page)
‘Sorry, Jude. I’m going to have to dash for the pub,’ says Emily. ‘See you in a minute.’
‘Well, that’s nice, isn’t it!’ I say, staring after her. ‘She should have gone before we got started!’
‘Yes. Did her mother not teach her that?’ laughs Jude. ‘She’s more concern for her bladder than she has for me crutches!’
‘Here: I’ve got your crutches,’ says Harry. ‘Put your good foot on the ground and lean on me for a minute.’
I watch him helping her out of the car and feel another surge of warmth and gratitude towards him. It’s true we hardly know each other; but how many other men would befriend three strange women in a crisis and be so kind and supportive? I can’t help wondering whether Matt would be the same, in the circumstances. Maybe he would. Or maybe he’d be just a little bit impatient, a bit irritated about the change to his plans. Am I being unfair? I don’t know. Perhaps I should ask him about it, when we both get home, at the same time as I ask him about having a baby. Get everything out in the open at once.
Not only is he kind, helpful and good company – Harry also insists on paying for our lunch. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s too good to be true. What with his stunning good looks and everything.
‘It’s fine, honestly – we’ve still got some euros to use up!’ protests Emily.
‘Save them. You can go out on the town in Kinsale tonight.’
‘I don’t think I’ll be going far, to be honest with you,’ says Jude sadly, indicating her plastered foot propped up on a chair.
‘What’re you going to do about your work?’ asks Harry. ‘Do you have far to travel?’
‘I work in Cork city. But I’m hoping a colleague of mine will be able to pick me up. He lives in Kinsale too.’
‘Or Fergus can give you a lift, can’t he?’ I point out. I’m beginning to wonder about Fergus. He never seems to be around when she needs him. I feel a flicker of annoyance at the thought that he might not be treating her properly.
‘Oh. Well, yes, maybe. Depends what he’s doing… where he’s working,’ she says vaguely. ‘Is that the time? Should we be getting along, do you think?’
Emily and I exchange looks as Harry gallantly helps Jude to her feet once more.
‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ she mutters.
‘That Fergus might need his arms and legs breaking off and his torso chucked in the Irish Sea with a rock attached to it?’
‘Sounds almost too good for him.’ She chuckles. ‘I wouldn’t like it to be said that we jumped to conclusions about him without even meeting him. But I think he’s a dickhead.’
‘Obviously, there could be very good reasons for him not rushing to help her in her hour of need. But I think you’re right. He’s not only a dickhead, he’s going to be a dickhead without a dick when I get hold of him.’
‘Or without a head,’ adds Emily.
We’ve been whispering, but we both burst out laughing at this.
‘No dick, no head – what kind of a dickhead is that?’ I giggle.
‘A dead one!’
‘Exactly!’ I’m not laughing now. ‘If he’s hurting her, I’ll kill him.’
‘Let’s hope he’s not. Seriously, she seems happy enough. And I can’t stand the sight of blood.’
Jude has swung ahead of us on her crutches, with Harry walking solicitously beside her, and at the pub doorway she turns to call us.
‘Come on, you two! Stop gossiping like a pair of old women!’
‘When are you going to tell her?’ Emily asks me quietly as we follow them out of the pub.
‘About Fergus being a dickhead?’
‘No, Katie. About the wedding being cancelled.’
‘Oh, yes. I… um…’. Emily’s going to be really hurt if she finds out I’ve already told Jude. ‘I’ll talk to her quietly on our own,’ I prevaricate.
‘Have you told
him
?’ She nods in the direction of the back of Harry’s head.
‘Yes.’
‘And did you make it clear that you and Matt are still together? Or does he think you’re fair game now?’
‘Don’t be silly. I…’
‘
I’m
not being silly, Katie. I’m not the one kidding myself. The chemistry between the two of you is sending off so many sparks I’m practically getting burnt just sitting in the same car.’
‘OK, yes - I do like him. But I won’t do anything about it. I’m going back to Matt and I’m going to talk to him about having a baby.’
She doesn’t say anything. Just shakes her head and looks away, which is irritating, but I decide to ignore it. Maybe she’d like to have a baby too, really. Sometimes people don’t admit it.
Emily and Jude both fall asleep in the back seat as we head southwest towards Cork. I’m studying the map, looking at all the strange Irish place names.
‘Lots of
Kills
,’ I say wonderingly.
‘It means church, apparently.’
‘Oh! And
Raths
?’
‘Fort, I think.’
‘
Inis?’
‘Island.’
‘I didn’t think you spoke any Irish?’
‘I don’t,’ he says with a smile. ‘That’s just general knowledge.’
‘In that case my knowledge obviously isn’t very general.’
‘You must know more about books than I do, though. More than most people do.’
‘Nice of you to think so. I mainly read light fiction, though. I’m sure it’s not easy to write, but it doesn’t exactly strain my brain cells reading it. I did study English lit. at uni. But you know how it is. All that learning, and then you go back out to the real world, out to work, and you probably retain about five percent of it. Shame, really.’
‘Yeah. Still, they say uni teaches you life skills.’
I snigger.
‘I think the only life skills I learnt, certainly in my first year, were how to survive alcoholic poisoning and how to get laid…’ I stop, freeze, and turn to look out of the window. You see? He’s so easy to talk to, I’m finding myself saying the sort of things I’d normally only confide to my girlfriends.
‘Oh, really?’ he says, sounding highly amused. ‘Well, that’s a very interesting life skill. Would you like to share your knowledge with me, do you think?’
‘I was joking,’ I say, shakily, still looking the other way. I’m boiling hot. I search for the button to open the window on my side but he does it for me. Fresh air gusts in but it doesn’t help to cool me down at all.
‘
I
wasn’t,’ he says, softly.
I spend most of the rest of the journey talking about Matt. I don’t suppose Harry appreciates this, but it’s kind of reassuring to me. I have to keep reminding myself – I have a boyfriend at home. Well, in Prague. I have a boyfriend who was almost going to be my husband. We might have decided to ditch the wedding, but I love him, and he loves me. We’re going to have a baby together. He doesn’t know that yet, but he’ll be thrilled when I tell him. I even find myself telling Harry this.
‘What if he isn’t thrilled? He might want to wait a while. He might not want kids at all. How come you haven’t discussed it before?’
How come everyone keeps asking me that?
‘We’ve been too busy talking about everything else. Enjoying ourselves. Planning the bloody wedding,’ I add tersely.
‘So you don’t feel ready to go ahead with the wedding, but you think it’s time to have a baby?’
‘Yes! Look…’
‘It’s OK. It’s none of my business, after all. I’m just intrigued. I’ve never been with a girl who wanted a baby.’
‘You haven’t been with me, either!’ I retort, shocked.
‘No. But I’m hoping to.’
This is getting worse. It’s brazen. I can’t believe his nerve.
‘Sorry,’ he says, with an impish grin like a little boy who’s been caught nicking biscuits out of the tin. My heart does a double somersault. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you, Katie. I should have kept it to myself. I won’t mention it again.’
‘What? Kept what to yourself?’
‘How much I fancy you. I have done from the moment I saw you. There – I’ve said it. It’s totally inappropriate, I know that; you’ve got a boyfriend, and I’ll probably never see you again anyway, and I’m totally out of order for talking to you like this. But – today, getting to know you a bit better – well, I feel like we’ve known each other for ages, to be honest.’
‘Me too,’ I admit.
‘So am I forgiven? No offence taken? I won’t say another word about it. We’ll talk about something safe and neutral. Dustbins. Or cleaning the oven.’
‘What?’
‘It’s the most unsexy thing I can think of. I always have to imagine cleaning the oven when I need to try to get my mind off sex.’
‘And do you… often… have to think about cleaning the oven?’
He glances at me, like he’s checking to make sure I’m smiling. I am.
‘All the fucking time,’ he says with a growl.
We’re both laughing when the other two wake up and ask how much further we’ve got to go.
And surprisingly – disappointingly in a way – Harry says we’re just coming into Kinsale.
As we turn onto the coast road I get a glimpse of the sea and catch my breath. It’s beautiful.
‘Look,’ says Harry, stopping the car at the top of a headland. The bay is stretched out beneath us. ‘Lovely sight, eh?’
‘Amazing. You’re so lucky, Jude.’
She’s only been living here a little while. When I’ve visited her in the past it’s always been to her old home just outside Cork.
‘I know. It’s a sight to stir your heart, to be sure. But where I live, Katie, it’s down a back street and out of sight of the sea, I’m afraid.’
‘You’ll have to direct me from here, Jude,’ says Harry, starting the car again.
We’re outside her flat in five minutes. It might not be within sight of the sea, but it’s still lovely. It’s half of a converted pink-washed cottage – the bottom half, fortunately for Jude’s current situation – and it’s tucked away down a little side road just a stone’s throw from the town’s main shopping streets.
‘You’ll come in and have a cup of tea or something to eat with us, Harry,’ says Jude in a tone that brooks no argument, ‘after all you’ve done for us, driving us all this way.’ She slides across the back seat as he’s holding the door open for her. ‘Could you ever get me crutches out of the boot for me, please, Katie?’
I’m already out of the car, stretching my legs. I open the boot and move our bags out of the way, looking for the crutches.
‘Not in here,’ I call back to her. ‘You must have put them inside.’
‘Don’t be daft – there’s no room in the back here. They’re in the boot to be sure, Katie. Would you have a proper look!’
Emily joins me as I start lifting the bags out of the boot. She takes out a couple of jackets and the boot’s empty. No crutches. I turn to look at Harry.
‘Shit,’ he says. ‘I think I forgot to put them back in the boot. After we stopped for lunch.’
‘So…’ Emily’s looking at him like he might be having a laugh with us. ‘So you’re saying the crutches are still in the car park back at Urlington?’
‘Urlingford,’ Jude corrects her automatically.
‘Urlington, Urlingford, bloody Tipperary – it all amounts to the same thing!’ says Emily irritably. ‘Poor Jude’s stuck here with her leg in plaster and no means of transportation!’
‘Sorry,’ says Harry, scratching his head.
‘All right, Emily – I expect we can get her some more from the local hospital or whatever,’ I try to pacify her. I don’t want her to moan at Harry after he’s been so kind to us. These things happen, don’t they? People probably leave their crutches in car parks all the time.
‘You must be joking,’ says Jude. ‘It’s not the NHS over here, you know. They don’t give out crutches willy-nilly to any old person who turns up asking for them. They’d probably charge me an arm and a leg just to borrow them.’
Very appropriate.
‘Well,’ says Harry with a sigh, ‘there’s only one thing for it.’ He reaches in to the back of the car and easily lifts Jude up in his arms.
‘That’s all very well,’ says Emily churlishly, ‘but you can’t carry her around indefinitely.’
‘I wasn’t planning to,’ he says with a grin. ‘I’m going to phone the pub and ask someone to see if the crutches are still there. Or if they’ve been handed in. Then I’ll drive back and pick them up.’
‘Oh, no, you can’t do that, Harry, for the love of God, I won’t be letting you do that!’ squeals Jude, twisting around in his arms in protest. I find myself wondering what it feels like to be held like that.
‘Keep still, Jude, or I’ll drop you in the gutter! Have you got your front door key? Or are we going to stand out here all day arguing? Of course I’m going back for your crutches. It was my fault, not putting them in the boot.’
‘Well, no, it wasn’t your responsibility,’ I begin, but Emily silences me with a look.
‘That’s very kind of you to offer, Harry,’ she says primly. ‘But it’s an awful long way to drive there, and back again, isn’t it.’
‘Like I said before – I like driving.’
We’ve got the front door open now and we’re standing in the hallway of Jude’s new flat. It’s gorgeous. But then, knowing Jude, it would have to be. She never could bear mess or shabbiness, even when she was a student. The walls are cream, the floor’s dark varnished wood. We follow her (still being carried by Harry) through into a pastel-pink lounge with a rose-pink carpet and dark red leather upholstery. I feel like I’m stepping through the pages of an
Ideal Homes
magazine. Even the simple stone vase on the fireplace and the few tasteful ornaments look as though they’ve been chosen for a TV house makeover programme. How does Jude do it? OK, she’s been away for a few days, but how does she keep Fergus under control? Where are the newspapers lying all over the floor? The empty beer cans? The TV remote control down the side of the cushion? How come the wastepaper bin’s empty? Where are the crisps packets and the Kit-Kat wrappers? Why aren’t there any curry sauce stains on the carpet? Suddenly I’m changing my mind about Fergus. This guy must be perfection personified. If the toilet’s clean, that does it. She should marry him.