‘The Doobie Brothers?’ Helen was already googling. ‘Who are they?’
Next thing, her phone was playing ‘Long Train Runnin’’， attracting startled looks from across the garden.
‘Fuck, yeah!’ Helen was in stitches. ‘I can so see Costello out there, grooving away to this shit.’
Don’t say that. Please.
But later, when almost everyone had left, she took me aside. ‘I shouldn’t have said Costello is still with that Tragic. I was trying to be tough for you, but that wasn’t what you wanted?’
‘Well, I –’
‘Thing is, I … yeah … tend to hold a grudge.’
No kidding.
‘You say you relapsed and it wasn’t his fault he left you. That’s too complicated for me.’
‘Okaaaay.’
‘Here’s the facts: I enjoy grudges, I don’t like giving up on them. But even though I’m an excellent private investigator, I can’t be sure what’s going on with the pair of them. Those photos could be misleading. Rachel, I … I apologize.’
An apology from Helen was quite the event. But it made no difference because I was accepting it was time for me to move on.
The man of my fantasies wasn’t the current real-life Luke, but a different one from long ago, before I’d got pregnant, before I’d relapsed, before life had twisted and reshaped us into less innocent versions of ourselves. The irony was that the Luke I was hung up on wouldn’t have slept with me, not while he had a partner.
My crush had lasted too long. Now it was just making me miserable. It was time to cop on, to be grateful for all the good that had come from meeting Luke again, from him being my friend.
90
About a week later, when his name popped up on my phone, my heart soared. Yeah, so Rome wasn’t built in a day. Next time I’d do better.
‘Hey,’ I said to him.
‘Hey, yourself!’ And there was his beautiful face. ‘So I’m coming to Ireland again for a few days.’
‘Oh. Right. Great.’ Or maybe not. Time would tell.
‘Could we meet? I’ll be there from the fourteenth of August to the seventeenth.’
‘Oh, I’ll be with Brigit! Working at her summer school.’
‘Are we ever going to see each other again?’ He strove for a jokey tone but he sounded genuinely exasperated.
‘There’s no chance you could change your dates?’
‘No. It’s legal stuff, involving other people.’
‘Your mum’s will?’
‘Wha–？ Oh, no.’ Then, ‘Nothing like that.’
An odd little pause followed.
Did he want me to ask for details? I sensed he did, but what if I was just projecting? How excruciating would that be?
‘So …’ I said. ‘Will you be in Ireland for Christmas?’ As conversational gambits go, this was poor stuff: Christmas was five months away.
But, surprising me, he said, ‘We’re going to Malta, all of us. First one without Mum, no one wants to try to recreate Marjorie’s Christmas dinners, not this year anyway, it’s too sad. We’re going to the sun instead. Dad’s idea. He’s put Vanessa in charge, God love her.’ Then, ‘Would you like to come?’
‘Haha.’
‘Seriously. There are dozens of us. Devin and Kate are coming. So is Mattie’s son’s girlfriend and Vanessa’s daughter’s fella. No one would notice an extra person.’
Is Kallie going? Are they still together?
‘So many people have confirmed, then pulled out, then confirmed again that there’s bound to be a spare bed.’
Ask him, Yara yelled. For the love of all that’s holy!
‘Haha,’ I repeated dully.
‘Well, think about it …’
This time I didn’t even bother with my fake haha. ‘Listen, I’ve seen the jeweller, she’ll have the two little pieces ready in maybe seven weeks. So I’ll mail them to the same address as I sent the petals?’
‘Ah.’ He seemed startled. ‘No, Rachel. No. Let’s see … Could you send them to Justin’s? That’s probably the safest.’
‘They can go Fedex if you’re worried about them getting lost in the post?’
‘No. Ah … no. Just …’
‘Oh?’ Then something made me brave enough to ask, ‘Are you … moving house?’
‘Yes.’
In with Kallie?
Ask! Him!
Rachel, for the love of God, ask him!