A Very Accidental Love Story (25 page)

There’s even a dinky little food market nearby selling local organic produce, honeycombs from Bantry Bay for five euro, that kind of thing, and as soon as we’ve hungrily guzzled just about everything in sight, Helen says to hang on, that’s she’s got a great idea. She disappears and next thing, I see her half-stumbling in her too-high wedges across the uneven grass back to where I’m watching over Lily and her new little friend, carrying two glasses of Pimms and a punnet of strawberries for us to share. Like we’re a pair of spectators at Wimbledon on a glorious sunny afternoon with not a care in the world and two Centre Court tickets to see Nadal play Federer.

‘Ah come on Helen,’ I tell her, ‘You know I can’t drink when I’ve to go back to work!’

‘One won’t kill you. It’s a Saturday afternoon for God’s sake, normal people do actually take a day off, you know.’

‘You’re beginning to sound like Jake now,’ I laugh back at her.

‘Shut up and drink.’

And I do as I’m told. Nothing like it, I think, lying back on the rug, kicking my shoes off, feeling more at peace and relaxed than I’ve done in years. Loving the hot sun on my face, hearing Lily’s happy, girlish squeals and giggles as she plays with her new pal, while I lie gossiping and chatting with Helen, like real sisters.

Not for the first time I think with a massive pang of regret about all the years and years I invested as a child, and subsequently as a teenager, in being consumed with jealousy at the thought of my younger, prettier, more popular sister. Pathetic git that I was, I think now, lying back on the rug she’s thoughtfully brought from home, sipping on a mouthful of the deliciously bittersweet Pimms and contemplating the clouds above.

What a total waste, I think. How did I even allow us to ever drift so far apart in the first place? We’re not exactly a big family; there’s just the pair of us and Mum, who I see so rarely it’s a disgrace. Something else I’ll have to rectify soon. We’ve no cousins, in-laws, extended family, nothing. Helen and I have only really got each other and yet I was perfectly prepared to let all of that slip quietly away. But the reason why is all too obvious. Because of the three essential downfalls in my character; stubbornness, snobbery and a complete blindness to what was staring me in the face the whole time, that’s why.

All those long, lonely years when I could have been so much closer to Helen, had I only got over myself and realised in time what a genuinely fabulous, warm-hearted human being she really is. And okay, so she’s not bookish like me, she may not do sudoku in bed to help her get to sleep or be a member of Mensa or have a high-powered, high-octane career with all the trappings and the stress ulcers to prove it.

But at the end of the day, so what? If there’s one thing I’m determined to do now, it’s to make up for all those decades of being a crap older sister to her. Because what we have in common far outweighs our surface differences and to be brutally honest, there are times when I think deep down that she’s actually the smart one, not me. Her quality of life far outweighs mine any day; she’s taught me just to enjoy each day and appreciate the wonderful people that are around me. Just like Jake is slowly teaching me to loosen up a bit; that contrary to my whole belief system, I actually am not indispensable and that it’s okay to skive off a bit, to take stock every now and then, to stop and smell the roses.

Jake. Funny how even at the most disconnected moments, he seems to have a way of inveigling himself into my subconscious. Helen is still animatedly chatting away in the background about Darren, mentally keeping tally of the number of text messages he’s left for her so far today, versus the number she’s left for him. Vastly improving, she reckons. Time was when it seemed to be a case of out of sight, out of mind, with her in Dublin and him in Cork, but slowly that seems to be shifting. The novelty of eating dinner in his mammy’s night in and night out seems to be wearing off for him and it seems that time and distance is making him realise what a rare gem he let slip away with Helen.

Repeat guests in the tiny B&B he runs have been asking for her, wondering when she’s coming back. Staff are saying that all kinds of problems are cropping up now that never did when she was around to smooth things over. Supplies not being ordered, wages not put through the bank in time for payday: the kind of infuriating crap that would drive anyone working there completely nuts.

On and on Helen happily chats, idly wondering if she should call Darren first this evening, or wait till he calls her, then act all surprised to hear from him, in the perpetual game of ‘who’ll blink first’ she seems to play with him. Meanwhile, I fish through my overstuffed bag and produce some of Lily’s high-factor sunscreen which I lash onto my face (more than likely rash red by now).

‘Lily? Will you come over here pet, so I can put more cream on you?’ I discreetly change the subject, calling over to where the child is having the best laugh with another adorably cute little girl, with a mop of springy jet black jack-in-the-box curls that stretch all the way down to her bum.

‘NO Mama! Me and Hannah are playing teddies picnic!! Hannah’s my fwiend now!’

Now, normally Lily is a terrible little attention seeker whenever there are grown-ups around: ‘Mama look at ME!’ every two seconds, that kind of thing, but today she’s so utterly absorbed in bonding with her new buddy, she’s barely looking twice at me or Helen. And I smile, absolutely loving this newfound independence she’s developing.

‘Isn’t this just the life, Eloise?’ Helen eventually says, lying back down and stretching out on the rug again.

‘The sun? Oh yeah, just bliss …’

‘No, you eejit, I mean you and me. Being able to sit here and talk boys. Do you realise this is the first time I think we’ve ever done this?’

I smile at her and lie back on the rug again, luxuriating in the heat, happy to see Helen if not happy and in love then at least reasonably contented with her lot – for the moment at least – and Lily so elated, playing away with her new little pal.

God’s in his Heaven, I think contentedly, all’s right with the world.

This warm, blissed-out feeling lasts for approximately another two minutes … and that’s when I see them.

Relaxed as you like, strolling through the Green, deep in chat.

Jake. But he’s not alone. He’s with a youngish woman, tall, tall, tall, so tall that when I look at her, all I see is long, suntanned legs all the way up to her earlobes, wearing skinny tight, tight, tight jeans that really only an eighteen-year-old can carry off. Looking like she’s on her way to do a promotional gig for a sports car. Long, dark, swishy hair, bracelets that jangle with her as she walks and teeth so pearly white they’d nearly dazzle you. For some reason, just looking at her makes the song
The Girl from Ipanema
randomly drift through my head.

In a second, I’m sitting bolt upright and rooting though my bag for my sunglasses, which thank God are the approximate size of two dinner plates and effectively cover up most of my face.

He hasn’t seen me, there’s every chance he hasn’t seem me, or Helen or …

Oh for f*ck’s sake … Lily …

I scan around to check on her, but know right well that if I even try to drag her away from her new pal and all the fun she’s having, she’ll immediately scream the whole Green down, thereby attracting even more attention to us.

Best to leave her be and hope he just keeps on walking
… Please, for the love of God, don’t let him look over this way …

But it’s too late. There’s a fork in the path Jake and The Girl from Ipanema were on and of course, life being what it is, they take the path closest to us.

It’s okay, I think, my vision dimming as a dull, sickening panic starts to set in. All is not lost. If I can just keep my head and quietly sneak out of here right now, all may yet be well.

He won’t even know Helen or Lily, so as long as he doesn’t see me, I may just come out of this and live to tell the tale …

Next thing, I’m surreptitiously glancing around for either a tree or some bushes that I can make a run for, like an extra in a Vietnam War movie diving for cover, when Helen suddenly sits bolt upright, seeming to sense the tense, nervous agitation practically pinging off me.

‘You OK, love?’ she asks me, all concerned.

‘Got to go,’ I hiss at her brusquely. ‘I’ll tell you why later. Gotta run, right now. Explain to Lily for me and I’ll call you when I’m back at the …’

‘Eloise? Is that you? Jeez, thought I was seeing things there for a minute.’

Shit and double shit.

Too late. He saw me, it’s him. As ever, towering over me, eyes crinkling at the sides as his warm, trusting face breaks into a big, delighted smile.

‘Oh … emm, … Jake! Hi!’ I say, over-brightly, standing up and brushing some of the grass off my work skirt. ‘Great to see you! I was, emm, just leaving! Now!’

He seems to sense the rising hysteria in my voice, and is straight onto me, the way he’s always onto everything in a nanosecond flat.

‘You OK?’ he asks, face screwed up with concern.

‘Oh, yes! Just great! I really do have to get going now though, right NOW. So we’ll talk soon, byeeeee!’

‘Sure you’re alright?’

He and The Girl from Ipanema are looking uneasily at each other now, wondering why in hell I’m being quite this rude and anxious to get away from them. Meanwhile I’m furiously semaphoring to Helen to keep her mouth shut and at all costs not to mention Lily …

Lily. Happily playing just a few feet away from me, like a ticking time bomb.

‘Eloise, this is Monique,’ Jake eventually says, introducing her in that relaxed, easy way he has, while Monique smiles her perfect smile and says, ‘’Allo,’ very sexily in what I can only describe as a smokily throaty voice, if ever I heard one. Her face is totally untroubled either by worry or experience, I notice, which irritates me for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Like it’s somehow her fault for only looking about twenty-one, tops.

‘Monique is a student at the school,’ Jake casually chats on. ‘She’s from Catalonia, but doing great at the aul’ English, aren’t you Monique? Improving in leaps and bounds.’

‘Every day, me Engleeesh get better a leetle bit,’ she says huskily, as Jake nudges her playfully and I catch a tiny, adoring glance as she grins back up at him.

And even in the throes of my panic, even though it’s just the tiniest gesture, I feel I’m witnessing a burgeoning intimacy between them. Again, which shouldn’t bother me, but does. Your English is improving? I think cattily. Yeah, right. You sound like you’ve just been translated by Google.

And now Jake is looking expectantly from me to Helen, patiently waiting to be introduced.

F**k. Which means it’s my turn. And there’s no getting out of this now.

‘Emm … Well, this is Jake,’ I say to Helen, hoping she’ll correctly interpret the hot red panic in my eyes. That fraught, urgent look that I hope says, nod, smile, shut up and let’s get us – and more importantly Lily – out of here.

‘… And this is Helen,’ I tack on, ‘my sister.’

Helen’s eyes light up with recognition as she shakes hands with him and Monique while Jake beams even wider, suddenly realising just who she is.

‘Well, I think I owe you a massive thank you,’ he tells her kindly, the big eyes twinkling warmly down at her, ‘did you know that I’m lucky enough to be staying in that lovely flat of yours?’

A quick, panicky look from me, but there’s absolutely no need. Helen doesn’t let me down and chats away easily about how happy she is that he’s settling in, stressing that if he ever has any trouble with the stopcock in the loo or the water pump under the sink, to call her immediately. Not for the first time, I find myself offering up a silent prayer of thanks at Helen’s easy, natural way of bonding with total strangers over the tiniest thing, in this case immersion heaters and the lagging jacket on the boiler. On and on they chat about the flat, Jake filling her in on all the improvements he’s done and is doing, while I surreptitiously swivel round to check on Lily.

It’s okay. So far, I think I’m just about okay. She’s playing happily away with her new little pal about six feet behind me, her back to us, totally oblivious, not noticing anything and not running over to me yelling, ‘look at me, Mama!’ every two seconds, like she normally would.

Which is good. Which is great. Which means I might just get out of this alive, look back and if not laugh, then at least be able to breathe normally again, oooh, in about a decade’s time or so.

A moment later, I’m aware that all small talk has quietly petered out and everyone’s looking at me, so I pre-empt yet another bowel-clenchingly awkward silence by starting to pack up my bag.

‘Well, sorry about this everyone,’ I laugh hysterically, my voice getting higher and higher in direct proportion to how anxious I am, ‘but I’ve really,
really
got to get …’

‘Back to the office, let me take a wild guess,’ Jake smiles and I totally overreact by guffawing like a nutter.

‘No worries at all,’ he says, looking at me so keenly it makes me wonder just how he’s interpreting my uneasiness. ‘Monique and I have a class anyway, so we’d better make a move too.’

‘Sure! Well, have a great class, don’t let me keep you!’

Not a word out of Monique, just a curt nod and a toothy smile, so I’m guessing she’s badly in need of a few English phrases to get her by. Mind you, I think cattily, to the Moniques of this world who go around the place looking like Brazilian underwear models, I’m guessing your body language does most of the talking for you, particularly around guys.

‘Well lovely to meet you, goodbye now!’ I call out gaily, bag in hand, all ready to rock and roll.

‘I’ll give you a call, Eloise,’ Jake smiles kindly at me. ‘Hey, maybe we can meet up this weekend? Have a drink or a bite to eat, if you’d like? Knowing you, you’ll only eat a packet of birdseed and a banana to do you till Monday morning otherwise.’

‘Emm, well … You see …’

Can’t think straight, can’t answer him, can’t do a shagging thing.

‘Don’t worry,’ he grins easily, ‘I’ll be in touch.’

Then he turns to Helen and warmly says how lovely it was to finally meet her. ‘Heard a lot about you.’