‘He sure will,’ Ailish went along with it, as she always did, because she truly believed that Minnie might just be right. She had no doubt that if there was any way for those that had passed to look out for the people they’d left behind, her devoted, loving father-in-law would have found it. Shame his son didn’t inherit that sense of loyalty and care.
‘Why don’t you come sit with us?’ Ailish said, with Gwen and Rhonda immediately jumping in to affirm the suggestion. But Minnie was having none of it and as Ailish followed the moving eyeline of Minnie’s gaze, she saw why. Gino Moretti, her mother and father-in-law’s lifelong friend was making his way back from the bar with two glasses of something Ailish was pretty sure would be sherry.
‘Thank you, Ailish, but my friend is going to sit with me for a moment.’
‘Ah, my favourite ladies!’ Gino bellowed the greeting he gave to all of his guests, and no one minded because they all adored him.
His arrival kicked off another round of greetings, although, as Ailish hugged the man she’d known for more than half her life, her heart hurt for him too. Despite his extroverted bonhomie, his smile no longer quite reached his eyes. He’d never been the same since he lost the wonderful Alicia.
Ailish squeezed Minnie’s hand again. ‘Okay, well we’ll be over there, and we’ll keep a seat for you just in case you change your mind later.’
As they left Minnie’s table, a memory tugged at Ailish’s mind, so she urged the other two to go ahead, while she sidestepped into the alcove beside her – choosing not to acknowledge that it was exactly where Eric had proposed all those years ago – and pulled her phone out of her bag. She was sure Emmy had said earlier that she was going to drop in on Minnie tonight. Strange. Best fire off a quick text to check.
Just got to Gino’s and your gran is here. She’s come alone but seems quite happy. Anyway, hope you’re good. Will call you at midnight. Love you. xx
Popping her phone back in her bag, she caught up with the others at the table, but she didn’t have time to fill them in on what she’d been doing because there, walking towards them, was one of her favourite people. With arms wide and a face that was still far too handsome, Dario Moretti welcomed them like they were his very favourite people too.
‘Well, if there was a table I hoped I’d see tonight, this is it.’ Dario had always had the same perfect blend of charm and humour as his father, and as he hugged each of them in turn, Ailish felt another rush of gratitude that Gwen had forced her to scrub up today. She felt strong. She felt happy. She felt like the woman she was the very first time she laid eyes on this man. Although, maybe slightly more sober.
Meanwhile, Dario appeared to jump on to the same nostalgia train that they’d been on all day.
‘You know, I see you lot and I feel like I’m twenty again.’
‘Ah, we wish!’ Rhonda chuckled. ‘Although, after all that plastic surgery I had after my second divorce, I’m pretty sure half of me is still in my twenties.’
‘Tell us then, Dario,’ Gwen asked, chuckling. ‘If you could speak to your twenty-year-old self, what would you say?’
Ailish knew that was supposed to be a cute, jokey question, but their suave, confident friend was suddenly a rabbit in the headlights. Ailish wondered if this was the first time she’d ever seen him flushed, as he clearly struggled for an answer, his eyes darting from person to person, before finally admitting…
‘I think I’d tell my twenty-year-old self that he shouldn’t have been afraid to go for what he wanted.’
26
EMMY
Emmy had been talking to herself ever since she’d driven her car out of the hospital car park and steered it onto the road towards the fire station.
‘Please be there. Please be there. Please be there.’
And yes, she was aware that she sounded just like Minnie, chatting away to the universe, hoping that someone could hear her.
At first, from a medical point of view, her gran’s otherworldly communications with Grandad had worried Emmy, but she’d soon realised it wasn’t a delusion – Minnie didn’t actually see Grandad sitting in the chair every night. No, it was just her gran’s way of soothing the pain and keeping the loneliness at bay and, actually, Emmy was glad of it. If Minnie was singing along to a favourite old song on the radio, and it made her happy to think Grandad could hear it too, then there was no harm in it. Besides, as she said, he’d always been a man of few words.
A bit like Cormac, really. He’d never been one of those blokes who chattered away all day long, or wasted breath talking about stuff that didn’t matter. But like her grandad, he was funny, and smart, and a decent man. At least, that was what she’d thought.Now, she was about to find out if she should strike ‘honest’ off his list of qualities.
Urgh, she was starting to feel seriously nauseous. What the hell was she doing? Just after eight o’clock on New Year’s Eve and she was trawling Glasgow streets that were thronging with revellers gearing up for midnight, on her way to check out her boyfriend because her suspicions were refusing to die. And yes, they were founded on some pretty weird behaviour on Cormac’s part, but shouldn’t she be better than this? Shouldn’t she trust in his love for her?
But then, hadn’t her mum trusted in her dad?
Fuck it, she was going, and she’d just have to live with herself later, one way or another, but at least she’d know the truth.
In the distance, she saw the fire station on her right-hand side and leaned forward, peering through the windscreen, anxious to get a closer look. Cormac’s car – or rather, his truck – was usually parked in the car park at the front of the station. That had been something else she’d loved about him. None of that flash sports car energy with this guy – he had a slightly battered old white pick-up truck that he refused to change because he loved it so much. Surely that had to be an indicator of loyalty, right there?
Eyes flicking like a metronome between the car park in the distance and the road straight ahead, anxiety began to twist her insides. Yes! There was a white vehicle in the car park. She could see it. ‘Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.’ Bugger, she was doing the talking out loud thing again.But thank you anyway. Thank you. Thank…
Shit. She’d got close enough to see that it wasn’t Cormac’s white truck, but a small transit with ‘Barry’s Bakery’ emblazoned on the side, next to a logo that showed a design that resembled the Olympics symbol, but was made out of intertwining doughnuts. If she wasn’t so stressed, she’d find the wholescenario funny, but her sense of humour was clearly as lost as Cormac’s location.
No, she chided herself.Don’t draw conclusions just yet. Stick with it. Believe in him.
