Page 42 of A Second Chance Summer in Dublin
‘I’m so sorry, it’s been manic,’ I tell them, a big grin on my face.
‘Can we send you money for a flight? Come and let us pamper you for a week?’ Dad implores, but the line breaks up a bit.
‘I will come, I promise. I’ve been flat-out working, but I’m coming for Christmas, if that’s suits?’
I don’t want to burden them with my financial worries. There’s no answer, they are frozen on the screen. I hold my phone up higher, even though I know the coverage is bad on their side. I repeat my Christmas intentions, and the screen unfreezes and they squeal like a pair of kids.
‘Yes! We’d adore that. Your room is all ready. We miss you so much!’ Mam tells me, just as the call drops. I try to call back, but the line won’t connect. I need to get out there to see them more. I try to inhale a cool breath of fresh air, to no avail. I’ve barelyeaten all day, just a slice of melted cheese on toast.
Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
My phone rings again in my hand.
‘REBECCA BEYOND LOOKS’flashes up on the bright screen of my vibrating phone.
Oh what? Noooo! Don’t cancel on me, Donal! You’ve fallen in love, haven’t you? With the tall, glossy-haired woman in the dungarees you ate scones with! I knew it!
I groan and answer. ‘H-h-hello?’
‘Grace?’ A softly spoken older woman’s voice.
‘Yes?’ I cross my fingers.
‘Hi there, it’s Faye Sheridan, from Rebecca’s office, Donal—’
‘Wants to cancel on me?’ I jump in before she can finish.
‘No. Oh no! He’s asking if we can pass on your phone number to him if you’re agreeable to that? We always check, obviously.’ She’s matter of fact. Safety first. Professional. We never swapped numbers, and not for the first time, I really wish we had.
‘Oh, yeah, sure, that’s fine.’ I’m not relieved, though, he could still be calling me to cancel. He’s the sort of guy who would want to do it himself. Glancing at the clock, I relay my phone number back to Faye. She repeats it painfully slowly and cautiously, careful she has every digit correct, then she hangs up. Only seconds pass before my phone rings again.
UNKNOWN CALLER.
‘Hello?’ I sing in my pretend happy voice.
Please don’t cancel.
Please don’t cancel.
Please don’t cancel.
I chant with my eyes clamped tight.
Pause.
‘Hi, Grace, Faye just text me your number.’
‘Aw, hiya, Donal,’ I say, almost impatiently, though I don’t mean to, it’s my nerves.
‘Eh, how are you doing there? Big night. How are the nerves?’ He waits.
I press the phone closer to my ear. ‘Eh, yeah, I’m okay.’
‘Good. Quick question for ya?’ he goes on, more speedily now.
‘Yes?’ I pace the room, stare at the crimson-red dress draped on the sewing machine table. It’s stunning, if I do say so myself.
‘I’ve been on the go all day here. Is there any grub at this party tonight?’
