‘Look at her now, Hugh.’
‘We did good, didn’t we, babe?’
‘We really did.’ My mouth is wobbling.
‘We can be proud of that.’ He gives me a big, reassuring smile and I want to press myself against him. ‘Okay, I’d better go,’ he says. ‘See you soon.’
‘When?’
He seems surprised.
‘September,’ I answer myself.
There’s no reason for us to see each other until the girls return.
‘Well, we could –’ he says.
No, September will do fine. I’d wanted time away from him to recover properly. Now is my chance.
It’s eleven thirty when I get in to work.
‘Did you cry?’ Alastair asks.
‘Not really. Not until the end.’
‘Heartless mare.’
‘Alastair? I won’t see Hugh until September.’
‘But that’s good. The plaster’s finally been torn off and you can spend the summer forgetting all about him.’ Then, ‘What? What’s up?’
‘It’s just I can’t bear the thought of being me in a year’s time or five years’ time or twenty years’ time without Hugh.’
‘Oh.’ He blinks. ‘That’s … that’s quite a statement, Amy.’
‘I thought those sorts of feelings for him were, like, severed …’
‘Aaaah, you might want to revisit that.’
‘I don’t understand what’s going on with me.’
‘You’re the one who’s always saying that a love thing is a relationship just like any other, that you can be really close, then fall out terribly, then make it up again. Practise what you preach.’
‘I’ve got some thinking to do.’
‘You could go on a silent retreat.’ He’s animated. ‘Glenstal Abbey? I’ll give them a shout. They’d do me a favour, get you in quickly.’
‘No abbeys, none of that lark. My own house will be as empty as the grave this weekend. I’ll do a …’ I feel foolish even saying the word ‘… “retreat” there.’
At two o’clock, I shut up shop.
‘What’s going on?’ Tim asks.
‘Got to go. Sorry. I’ll work from home. Neeve is calling round to collect her belongings. Richie’s van delivered them last night.’
‘She has a new flat already?!’
‘Unlike the rest of us, she has plenty of money.’ I feel I should add something. ‘Tim, after this weekend everything goes back to normal. There’ll be no more missing days.’
‘Good. Glad to hear it.’
‘Leave her alone,’ Alastair cries. ‘She’s had a shit time of it!’
‘It’s fine. Stop. It’s grand. Goodbye.’
I make for the door and Alastair calls after me, ‘Good luck with your silent retreat!’
Neeve seems unfazed by her Trial by Public. ‘In a crisis you find out who your friends are.’ She sounds philosophical. ‘Or, should I say, you find out who your friends aren’t?’
I’m not sure if she’s talking about the friends who wouldn’t let her stay with them or if she’s referring to Richie. Then it becomes clear.
‘Was Dad always like this? Selfish? All-about-him?’
I waver before I lay into Richie. He’s Neeve’s flesh-and-blood – she gets half of her DNA from him. What can I say that doesn’t invalidate the shitty way he treated her or make her fear that she might turn out just like him?
‘He was different when I first knew him,’ I say. ‘He was great then. Very loving.’
‘So what happened?’
‘I think … perhaps too much success too young?’ I genuinely don’t know, but this is the best I can produce.
‘I’ve been a total bitch lately,’ she says. ‘And it’s coincided with me having a lot of success.’
My instinct is to flim-flam her, but she has been horrible.
‘I’m sorry, Mum. And I’m sorry about Robert’s ashes-scattering.’
I make myself say it: ‘Hugh was more upset than I was. You should apologize to him.’
‘Okay. Hey, have you been to Hugh’s flat?’ she asks. ‘Oh, Mum. Like, he cleans it and that, but it’s so small and there are these cork tiles on the ceiling and they’re falling off and, yeah, it’s bad. He doesn’t deserve to live like that.’
We sit in silence, then she says, ‘I always had a thing about Hugh, about him not being good enough for you.’
‘Really? I don’t think I noticed.’
Playfully, she pushes me. ‘I was wrong, Mum. He’s really kind. I used to think he was nice just so I’d like him but I think it’s for real.’
‘Oh.’ It’s immaterial now.
‘Richie only wanted me when I made him look good, and he ditched me at the first sign of trouble. But Hugh, who isn’t even like my real dad, gave me his bed. He slept on the kitchen floor. He bought me doughnuts and he cooked stuff. He lent me his laptop and his car.’
‘I’m sorry about Richie,’ I say.
‘It sucks.’ She sighs and wipes away a tear. ‘I don’t know why but he’s never going to love me.’
Oh, Christ. ‘Neeve!’
‘It’s okay. It’s not my fault. Just because he doesn’t love me, it doesn’t make me unlovable.’
‘I don’t think he loves anyone but himself,’ I say. ‘I love you. We all love you.’
‘Thanks, Ma, love you too. So! You think you and Hugh will get back together? Because you totally should.’
‘C’mon. You saw the pictures of him with that girl from Scotland.’
Her face becomes troubled. ‘Yeah. Everyone would think you were a total sapsucker if you took back a cheater. Sorry, Mum. I should just butt out of stuff that’s not my shit. See you later at Granny and Pop’s.’
As soon as I arrive in Mum’s, Derry yells across the kitchen at me, ‘By Christ, have I got plans for you for this summer!’
Maura’s head jerks up.
No! After months of freedom from her interfering in my affairs, I really don’t want a resurgence of it.
People are milling about the place – Dominik, Siena, Joe’s thuggish little boys, Declyn, Mum …
‘You and Hugh have been broken up for nine months. It’s time for you to meet a new man!’ Derry declares.
‘No. Like, no way. I don’t want any man, ever again. I’m done.’ I move right up next to her. ‘Derry, let’s not have this conversation, not here.’
‘Sit down, so.’ She pulls two chairs into a corner.
But Mum takes one of them. ‘I’m your mother,’ she says. ‘I might have wisdom.’
If she has, it’ll be a rarity.
‘Go on,’ Mum says to Derry. ‘Tell her.’
‘Amy, you’re only forty-four,’ Derry says.
‘I’ll be forty-five next month.’
‘You’ve got the rest of your life to live, you’ll be lonely.’
‘But a man wouldn’t make me less lonely.’
‘You’re kinda missing the point. If you loved him, he would.’
‘You’re kinda missing the point: I wouldn’t love him. I’m done. I’ve loved enough men. I’ve no love left to give.’
‘What you mean is, you still love Hugh.’
Carefully I say, ‘I do still love Hugh. In a way.’
‘In what way?’
‘In a “friends” way.’ After some prompting, I tell Mum and Derry about the night when Hugh said he’d always get me the cheese club membership. ‘I felt so much love for him when he said it.’
‘A “friends” kind of love?’ Derry’s look is suspicious. ‘You sure that’s all it was?’
‘It was definitely love.’
‘Yeeeeeah. Hey, Neevey, what do you think?’
Neeve has just arrived and bursts into our little circle. ‘Mum.’ She seems anxious. ‘I feel bad. Something I said earlier. About you being a sapsucker if you got back with Hugh.’
‘It’s okay, Neevey. It’s what everyone would think.’
‘Who are all these people you think are judging you?’ Mum interjects. She’s been listening quietly until now.
‘Well, Steevie and Jana and them.’
‘Who cares what they think?’ Derry says. ‘Anyway, you cheated too. Technically before Hugh did. Amy wins cheating! You could issue a press release, telling everyone you went first. Then no one would judge you for being a sappy wifey.’
‘Did you really cheat?’ Neeve is agog.
‘Not now, Neevey, please.’
‘Okay. The important thing is, if you got back with Hugh, would you think you were a sap?’
‘Yes.’ I have to be honest. Then, ‘But I’m not sure I care.’
‘Remember what I said,’ Mum says. ‘About loving people when they’re at their worst.’