CHAPTER45
‘Has anyone seen my husband?’
Tara watched five grown men look around the immediate area and shake their heads. She could likewise tell he was not within three feet of everyone, given that she also had eyes.
‘OK, any idea where he might be?’
They paused and surveyed exactly the same area once again.
‘You know what, it’s fine, it’s not urgent. When he shows up can you just tell him we’re going further down the beach for some girl time.’
Three hours after Tara had becomeMrs married woman keeping exactly the same name, thanks, she encouraged Beth, Erin, Becky and Alex to ditch their significant others and take a walk with her. No partners, no family, no outside noise, just them.
The beach wasn’t any different that evening, Erin thought as she pushed Beth along in her wheelchair. The beach had been the same for probably thousands of years… hundreds of thousands maybe. She knew it was something to do with tides and landforms and if she had paid more attention to geography at high school, she would likely have a more accurate answer; however, tonight the sea looked different. Calmer. Clearer. The waters felt entirely at peace. Erin, however, did not.
‘You’ve been swanning around my house for three days and not a word about that baby,’ she exclaimed in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe it. Quite frankly, I’m offended and we still know nothing! How far gone are you? Have you thought of names? Was this an accident or were you—’
‘Slow down!’ Tara insisted ‘I’m only fourteen weeks! Besides, we wanted to tell everyone, together at the wedding; it wasn’t some grand conspiracy. Anyway, you would only have gotten ahead of yourself. You’d have been organising gender reveal balloons before I’d even gotten down the aisle.’
Erin continued to be offended. ‘Me? Away you go, I’d have done nothing of the sort.’
Becky snickered. ‘You so would have. Five minutes after Tara announced her engagement, you were on the phone to some baker asking about wedding cakes.’
‘Some baker?Greggsare a baker. Hilary Powell-Brown is a world famous pâtissier who is booked months, sometimes years in advance,’ Erin clarified. ‘I didn’t see you objecting when you were stuffing your face with cake ten minutes ago.’
Becky grinned. ‘Hell no, it was delicious. Julianne has been ordered to squirrel away as much as possible while I’m gone.’
Alex noticed that Becky’s eyes always lit up at the mention of her girlfriend’s name. Exactly as it should be.
‘No wedding bells for you two?’ Alex asked, pulling her dress out of the sand. ‘I can see you and the good carpenter getting hitched.’
Beth agreed. ‘Maybe in a forest somewhere. She could hollow out a tree and the imps could ordain the ceremony.’
‘It’s a bit early for all that,’ Becky replied, grinning. ‘Besides, imps live in boglands and most of them are arseholes. I’d rather be married by a leprechaun.’
‘Do you think Ben’s parents are having a good time?’ Alex asked, her head turned towards a group gathered at the top of the beach. ‘I get the feeling this is all a bit alternative for them. I think they’re still looking for the vicar.’
‘Maybe,’ Tara replied, the water slowly lapping over her toes. ‘It’s hard to tell with parents sometimes.’
The group fell silent as Tara’s hand reached for her necklace.
‘We’re all so sorry about your ma,’ Becky said. ‘I’m sure she would have loved this.’
‘Love’s a bit strong,’ Tara remarked with a slight smirk. ‘But she would havelikedthis. Definitely liked. I mean, of course she would have bitched and moaned the whole way through, but she’d have been happy about the wedding and the baby. I hope so, anyway.’
Despite her best efforts, Tara had never managed to completely reconcile her differences with her mother. They’d continued their relationship on a superficial level until former Miss Ireland, Louise Landry, slipped and fell on ice last December and passed away three days later from a bleed to the brain.
They continued further along the beach, until Alex decided that she couldn’t walk any further.
‘Beth, I really feel like you should let me have a wee shot of your chair,’ Alex announced. ‘Aiden stood on my foot while we were dancing and—’
‘What the fuck is it with men and your feet?’ Erin asked.
‘I know!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s like I’m cursed.’
‘It’s not a toy, Alex,’ Beth informed her. ‘Besides, I let you put your shoes in my bag on the back there, so you could carry your mimosa. I’m already helping you.’
‘True,’ Alex replied, giving her a small cheers with her glass. ‘However, my shoes are not the problem here, it’s—’
