‘Mad Max!’ I had hooted again. ‘Mad Max! Do you get it?’
And the two of us began laughing so much, we started to slide off our chairs. I remember Clodagh on her knees, trying to get up. And then a conga danced past us, famous and not so famous faces whizzing by. Bridget was there, I think I remember, but no Red. Sheer horror on Lucinda’s face, as though she was running with the bulls in Pamplona and was terrified that she would be trampled. Clodagh was scooped up into the melee and I, sensibly, took it as my cue to leave.
Lying in bed, I put the pillow over my face. Oh Jesus. Why had I thought it was a good idea to do shots last night? Not that it was ever a good idea to do tequila shots.
What had happened to Red? Gone home, I had assumed. Not with Bridget, though. Which was a small consolation. But I was meant to be a grown woman. A married woman. And yet here I was, lying, hungover and sick to my very being, thinking about him.
*
My car was having its annual service in the garage but the walk would not only do me good but it would bring me past a very nice coffee place where I could get a takeaway.
Once I arrived in the school hall, there were Victoria sponges as far as the eye could see, teetering piles of brownies and biscuits. Angela Leahy, Fifth class teacher, was putting out paper cups in a regimented line, and Sarah Casey (Second class) was looking more than a little excited at being the one who was in charge of the tea urn.
Even some of the protestors were helping out, basically feeling members of the school’s wider community. Maybe their plan was to buy enough cake that we would easily earn enough money and there would be no question of selling the Copse. Arthur was on the ground fixing a table and Nellie was unveiling an impressive looking pineapple upside cake and a chocolate-covered tray bake.
‘Red was here earlier,’ Mary said. ‘Carrying things in. Setting up the tables, you know. He got the keys and set up at 8am. Spent a good two hours getting all the tables and chairs out of the storeroom. The place was in a state. He managed to find two of those big brooms and we got the place shipshape in no time.’
Red? I thought he’d be too hungover.’
‘He said he was at Clodagh’s party last night. Said he didn’t stay long. Weren’t you talking to him?’
‘I was, for a bit,’ I said, deflation mingling with my hungover brain. I didn’t think he’d be at the cake sale at all, and now I’d heard he’d been and gone. ‘Has he gone home?’ Please say no, I thought.
‘No, just off to get some breakfast,’ she explained. ‘Said he wouldn’t be long.’ She chuckled. ‘You know, he’s been such a great addition to the staff, I must say. We’ll be sad if he has to leave us at the end of term. Can’t do enough for any of us and always making us laugh in the staff room. You know he carries Ms Morrissey’s bags in from her car every morning? The operation on her back was postponed. Again. He’s become quite the pet of the staff. We say we don’t know what the school will do without him. He’s started a little lunch club on a Friday and each of us brings in things to eat. It’s all very civilised.’
That did sound nice. Sometimes being head teacher meant you missed out on the craic, having instead to worry about leaks in the roof or raising money
‘I’m determined to beat last year’s total of €260,’ Mary went on, arranging lemon drizzles and fairy cakes on plates. ‘We’ve upped the prices of these little cakes by 5c, and the big cakes by 50c.’
‘You should be on The Apprentice,’ I said. ‘Lord Sugar would love you.’
My tequila headache was really beginning to kick in. ‘I’m just going to take two painkillers,’ I said. ‘Thanks for saying that Mary, I’ll be back in a moment.’
‘Ah! Here he is!’ she said. ‘Mr Eurovision himself!’
Red was walking towards us, a coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other. ‘Shhh!’ he said to Mary, smiling. ‘I don’t want everyone to know about my double life.’ He turned to me. ‘Hi Tab. How’s the head?’
‘Not too bad,’ I lied. ‘How’s yours?’
He shrugged. ‘Didn’t stay long,’ he said. ‘Home by midnight.’ And then he was distracted by two golden tea bracks that Mary had just unwrapped. ‘I’ll buy one of those,’ said Red. ‘Look even better than the ones my mam used to make. Here’s €10 to get us started.’ He passed a note to Mary which she put in the ice cream tub. Put one aside for me? Dad will love it. And I’ll head over to the tea stall. Apparently that’s where I’ve been put. Not to be trusted with the cakes or I might eat them.’
‘Knowing you, you will,’ teased Mary. ‘Go on, off with you!’
She turned to me and laughed. ‘He’s a divil,’ she said, as soon as he’d gone.
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ I said moderately, but thinking, a sexy divil at that. However, these adulterous musings were disturbed by a voice.
‘I’ll have that chocolate one.’ It was Clodagh wearing dark glasses. ‘I mean, I won’t actually eat it, but I can sniff and study it for a while and imagine I am eating it’
I laughed, delighted and amazed to see her. ‘Please. Just eat it. I’ll make you eat it. Anyway, what are you doing here? I’m wrecked, you must be destroyed!’
‘I think I’m still drunk, actually,’ said Clodagh, in a low voice. ‘But I said I’d come and – ta-dah! - here I am.’ She groaned. ‘God, that was a bit enthusiastic.’
Mary was bristling beside me, waiting to be introduced.
‘Clodagh this is Mary Hooley, school secretary and the brains of the operation. Mary, this is my friend Clodagh Cassidy.’
‘Indeed it is!’ said Mary, giving Clodagh a hearty and prolonged handshake. ‘And what a pleasure it is to have a celebrity here! You might help us sell even more cakes!’
‘Thank you, Mary,’ said Clodagh, taking off her glasses. ‘Tabitha is always telling me about you, how she couldn’t do a thing without you.’
Mary blushed. ‘Well, you know, I do my best…’
‘Why don’t you put me to work and I will try and sell a few cakes for you?’ Clodagh offered.
She came behind the table to us and I gave her an apron. ‘How are you?’ I asked out of the corner of my mouth.
‘Like a terminally ill amoeba,’ she said quietly, while smiling at everyone radiantly. ‘It’s all your fault for ordering that tequila.’
‘You ordered it,’ I reminded her. ‘It’s all your fault that we both feel like this.’
‘That’s why I’m here. Solidarity,’ she said. ‘Friends who do shots together, sell cakes together.’
‘Thanks Clodes.’
‘My pleasure. And sorry for the tequila.’
‘Let’s just never do it again. Next time afternoon tea. Anyway, have you heard from Max?’
She nodded. ‘He called this morning,’ she said. ‘Said he was sorry.’
‘Sorry?’
‘For being tired. I think it was one of those apologies that aren’t really meant.’
‘Like, sorry for breathing.’
‘For being alive.’ She gave me a half-smile that almost broke my heart.
‘Can we just sell some cakes?’ she said. ‘Before I eat them all. This room is either my greatest nightmare or the best dream ever. Cakes as far as the eye can see.’ She stopped. ‘Don’t worry about me, Tab,’ she said. ‘So he’s a bit of a prick. Maximus Prickus.’ We both giggled immaturely for a moment. ‘But I’ll be all right, okay? Good riddance et cetera.’
‘Oh my God, Bridget!’
‘What?’
‘Yo! Clodagh!’ And now Bridget was making a beeline towards us, through the crowds of parents and pupils who had begun to arrive. She didn’t look at all hungover, she was as fresh as a daisy, flaunting her youthful ability to flash detoxify.
‘Bridget?’ said Clodagh. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘You told me all about it, said I had to come. Remember?’ She scanned the room, looking for someone.