Rachel's Holiday
Page 99

And Luke did ring me every day at work. I now depended on him calling so I could take a break from messing up the reservations at the Barbados Motel to whinge to a sympathetic ear. ‘Tell that Eric dude he’d better watch it, babe,’ Luke threatened daily. ‘If he upsets my woman he has me to answer to.’
And it was wonderful to stagger home to him from a hard day, to find that he’d made Shake and Joey go out for the evening and had cooked me dinner. It didn’t matter that the plates had been stolen from Pizza Hut, the napkins were McDonald’s serviettes and the food was either takeaway or microwaved and the wine was actually beer. He had the important romantic things – candles, condoms and a whole chocolate cheesecake, all for me.
The phone rang, jolting me out of my Luke-induced reverie. Brigit threw herself bodily across the room and dove on the phone. It was Josie.
As she chattered extra-animatedly to him, I suddenly realized the main problem with Luke and me. It wasn’t the most obvious thing, that I was ashamed of his terrible clothes. It was that we had different priorities. He had a surprisingly wide range of interests. Too wide, if you asked me. He often made me do things I didn’t want to do, like go to the cinema, or the theatre. Whereas my main hobby was having fun in fashionable, glamorous places. I wanted to party a lot harder than he ever did. Of course, he enjoyed going out and getting jarred, but my favourite way of letting off a bit of steam was doing coke. And Luke had a real down on drugs. He had constant fights with Joey, because Joey insisted on keeping a stash of coke in the apartment. Which I loved. It was nice to know there was some handy if I was ever stuck.
Brigit got off the phone. ‘That was Josie,’ she beamed. ‘His sister is in some play-type of installation thing in TriBeCa. I need you to come.’
‘When?’ I asked.
‘Tonight.’
I hesitated. Brigit misread it.
‘I’ll pay,’ she shrieked. ‘I’ll pay. But you’ve got to come. Please. I can’t go on my own.’
‘Luke’d probably like to come too,’ I said casually. ‘You know how he enjoys plays.’
‘You sly hoor.’ Brigit Lenehan was no eejit. ‘Aren’t you and him supposed to be taking a night off from each other?’
‘We’d discussed it,’ I said reasonably. ‘But now that this unforeseen event has cropped up…’
‘You’re pathetic!’ she declared. ‘You can’t even go one night without seeing him.’
‘Not at all.’ I said, my calm voice belying the delight I felt at the thought of seeing him. I hadn’t known how I’d survive until the following evening. ‘He’d be very sorry to miss a play. Especially when he knows the brother of one of the cast.’
The phone rang and Brigit devoured it.
‘Hello,’ she said eagerly. ‘Oh, it’s you. What do you want? Well, tell me what you want to say to her and I’ll pass it on.’
She turned to me. ‘It’s Luke,’ she said. ‘He says to tell you he can’t live without you, and can he come over.’
51
Lunch-time at the Cloisters. My parents were due in about half an hour as my Involved Significant Others. There was an awful lot of activity in the dining-room, which didn’t succeed in distracting me from my stomach-churning anxiety.
We had a new inmate. A man. But of the tubby, brown-jumper-wearing variety. Barely a man at all, in other words. Not that it mattered, because I was, after all, promised to Chris. Even if Chris didn’t know it yet.
The new brown jumper’s name was Digger and the first thing he said to me was ‘Are you famous?’
‘No,’ I assured him.
‘No, I didn’t think you were,’ he said. ‘But I thought I’d better check anyway.
‘I’ll give them two more days,’ he added with menace, ‘and if they haven’t got anyone good in by then, I’m going to ask for a refund.’
I thought back. I’d wondered if there was a pop-star wing and, instead of labelling him a thick eejit, I smiled kindly.
‘She’s famous.’ I indicated Misty. But Digger wasn’t impressed with someone who’d written a book.
What he had in mind was a sports personality. Preferably a premier division football player.
Don had come to the end of his eight weeks and we were giving him a card and a bit of a send-off.
Frederick, who was leaving the following day, presented him with the card, then made a little speech.
‘You annoyed the life out of me, with all your fussing and foostering…’
Lots of laughter greeted that.
‘… but I was awful fond of you anyway. And everyone here wishes you all the best out there. And remember, stay with the feelings.’
More laughter. Followed by demands for a speech from Don.
He stood up, plump and short, blushing and smiling, smoothing his tank-top over his round stomach. Taking a deep breath, he launched into ‘When I first came here I thought ye were all mad, I didn’t want to be in with a crowd of alcoholics. I thought there was nothing wrong with me.’
I was surprised by the amount of knowing smiles and nods that were exchanged when he said that.
‘I hated my poor mother for putting me in here. But I learnt the hard way how selfish I’ve been, and how I’ve been wasting my life. So, the best of luck to ye. Hang on, it gets better. And I’ll tell you one thing. I’m not going to drink. And do you know why? Because I don’t want to end up back here with you crowd of gobshites!’
‘Have a pint waiting for me in Flynns,’ roared Mike. Everyone laughed, including me. Then there were lots of tearful hugs.
Some of them even for Don.
Suddenly the time came for group, and we reluctantly left him sitting alone in the empty dining-room, waiting for his lift. He looked longingly at us. And we moved away, already separate.
I won’t let this session get to me, I vowed defiantly, as I marched down the corridor. Less than four more days and I’m out of here.
Mum and Dad were already sitting in the Abbot’s Quarter, dressed as if they were going to a wedding. It wasn’t every day they came to a rehabilitation centre to dissect the life of their middle child.
I nodded awkwardly at them and mumblingly introduced them to Mike, John Joe and the others.
Mum gave me a shaky, watery smile and to my alarm I felt tears start in my eyes.