No Fool Like an Old Fool - Dan (Chapter 7) I realised very quickly that calling to see Libby Finn had been a foolish mistake. She was more charming and more beautiful than I had ever imagined any woman could be, and she could cook! I spent the entire evening at Willow Cottage, struggling to convey unaffected ease in her presence, when all I really wanted to do was take her clothes off! The main course wasn’t over before I realised that this young woman, under different circumstances, could have been my soulmate, my one true love. Normally, watching a programme like A Victorian Farm was my idea of a good night in. Throw in a home-cooked meal, a good bottle of red, and a blazing log fire, and it was just about the perfect end to any day! However, factor in the irresistible, unobtainable Libby Finn into the equation, and the night was reduced to one of unutterable torture! My voice caught on more than one occasion as I felt my ardour rising, and that wasn’t usual for me! I had never had any trouble containing my ‘emotions’ before then, and I was horrified to find myself suddenly taken completely unawares. Luckily, I was able to put my erratic voice change down to a touch of laryngitis, and I hoped that Libby was sufficiently engrossed in her television programme so as not to notice anything else! Once the credits came on, I hastily excused myself and left a slightly bewildered Libby in my wake. Driving away from the farmhouse, I resolved to put as much distance between myself and Libby as I could without drawing too much attention to myself. I would also start dating women of my own age! I hadn’t given anyone a chance since Marie’s death because the experience of a less than blissful marriage had left me reluctant to dip my toes in the potentially murky waters of a new relationship. I decided there and then that I was being overly cautious and that I should at least give other women a chance to dispel my misgivings. It wasn’t as if I would ever be getting married again, so there could be no real harm in casual dating. My neighbour and long-time family friend, Peggy Holmes, had recently asked me out, and I had vacillated. On the long, reflective journey home from Libby’s, I made up my mind to call Peggy that night and to accept her invitation to Ballyedmond’s Hunt Ball. Peggy was a wonderful woman by all accounts, and more importantly, she was exactly the type of woman that I should have been pursuing. Chapter 8 The Cat Jumps Out of the Bag The day after Emma’s announcement, Jules Mahon dropped by for coffee. An accountant by trade, Jules was self-employed, and that morning saw her passing by Willow Cottage on her way to visit one of her clients. Although I was well used to Jules’s fly-by visits, there was something about her demeanour that morning that made me suspect that she had more than a quick cup of coffee on her mind. And as it turned out, I was right. ‘Now, Libby,’ she protested, in a tone intended to induce a sense of reason in me, ‘don’t say no before hearing me out.’ I immediately became suspicious and a tad uneasy. Any conversation with Jules that began with a request to ‘hear her out’ rarely ended well. ‘Yes?’ I hesitated, wondering how I would manage to wriggle out of whatever hare-brained plan Jules had hatched for us on this occasion. ‘I got us a pair of tickets for this year’s Hallowe’en Hunt Ball,’ she said, a beseeching expression in her eyes. ‘Really?’ I said, relieved for once by the apparent simplicity of her plan. I looked for the catch. ‘Is that it?’ ‘Yes,’ she replied simply, yet clearly surprised by my response. ‘When is it on?’ I asked. ‘I knew it! You don’t want to go, do you?’ she said, her voice rising as she fixed me with a look of complete exasperation. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, genuinely bewildered. ‘It’s a trick! No matter when I say it’s on, you’ll have other plans!’ she cried. Clearly I had declined Jules’s invitations once too often, and she had lost faith in me. ‘I just asked when it was on!’ I said defensively. ‘Actually, I would love to go as long as it isn’t this coming weekend.’ ‘Really? You’d actually love to go?’ Jules almost squealed her disbelief. ‘Yes, as long as it isn’t this coming weekend!’ I reiterated deliberately. That weekend was the official Bank Holiday weekend, and I had already made unbreakable plans. ‘As it happens, it’s the following weekend, the actual thirty-first,’ Jules said, eyeing me doubtfully. ‘I just can’t believe you’re actually interested in going!’ she stressed. ‘Well, it just goes to show that you don’t know me quite as well as you might think!’ I was feeling put out by the fact that Jules thought I was so noticeably predictable. Jules and I had been friends since our very first day together in primary school, and to the best of our knowledge, we had never really fallen out. We were like sisters; in fact, we were closer than most! ‘You know, I had a whole speech ready,’ she laughed. ‘I can imagine!’ I said, as haughtily and as witheringly as I could manage. ‘I was going to cut straight to the guilt trip if you turned me down,’ she confessed. ‘I never doubted it!’ I said, laughing despite myself. Jules had a PhD in guilt; in fact, nobody could do it better! People twice her age hadn’t mastered it to the degree that Jules had. ‘God, I can’t believe it!’ she continued. ‘Does this mean that you are finally considering being out there again?’ Her question was delivered with an intensified look of hopefulness. ‘Well, I’m not sure about being out, out there again,’ I said cautiously. One thing that I didn’t need was the overenthusiastic Jules Mahon, making it her business to find me a man! ‘However, I will go so far as to say that my attention has recently been drawn to one possibility.’ I smiled intriguingly despite myself, and Jules leant towards me, hanging on my every word. I continued, unable to resist the temptation to draw my friend in, we lived for these moments. ‘Nevertheless,’ I said cautiously, remembering how improbable a match between myself and Dan Bryant was, ‘I should add that the guy in question is probably, yes very probably, totally unsuitable!’ ‘Who is he?’ she gasped, and I knew immediately that Jules was thinking married man. ‘I really would rather not say for the moment,’ I said resolutely, ‘but I will say one thing for the benefit of your filthy mind . . . he is definitely not married!’ ‘Huh!’ Jules said indignantly. ‘For your information, I would never even have dreamt such a thing!’ ‘Really?’ I said archly, and my expression demanded absolute honesty. ‘Not really,’ she conceded, shaking her head and smiling wickedly, ‘I will admit that the thought did very very briefly cross my mind.’ ‘Your dirty mind,’ I corrected. ‘Yes, all right, my dirty mind!’ she admitted. ‘Your dirty, filthy, twisted mind,’ I insisted. ‘All right already! Don’t shoot me for the love of God!’ she implored, waving her hands above her head in mock surrender. ‘Takes one to know one,’ I conceded. I poured myself another cup of coffee and adopted an exaggerated air of mystery before continuing. ‘Suffice to say that I might enlighten you someday soon. In the meantime, you can just keep on guessing.’ ‘Hmm,’ Jules said thoughtfully. ‘But if the mystery man turns up at the Hunt Ball, then you have to at least let me know that he’s there. Okay?’ ‘Okay,’ I agreed. Jules and I spent the rest of her visit planning a shopping trip to Dublin for the following Tuesday. If we were going to the ball, then we were going to be the belles of the ball, with sugar icing and a cherry on top! Jules was a girlie girl, even when dressed in her professional best. She was a true redhead and had a figure to rival that of Marilyn Monroe. Her hair was long and curly, and whenever possible, she wore it loose. Jules was always perfectly groomed, spending a sizeable portion of her earnings on self-maintenance. She was vibrant and fun, and she had the wickedest laugh of anyone that I knew. Men loved her! Jules was single by choice, having thus far failed to discover any maternal instincts other than to call her own mother at least once a day! She didn’t see the need for a full-time boyfriend if one had no intention of settling down to have babies. Her carnal instincts, on the other hand, were not so undiscovered, and she had had a string of highly unsuitable boyfriends over the years, none of whom had been successful in taming her! Although Jules quickly tired of many things in life, including the various men that tried to woo her, fashion was one of the few things that had yet to bore her. From the latest trend in hats to the most current essentials in footwear, Jules was a font of studied knowledge. If one was going shopping for glamour, then Jules Mahon was the best woman for the job. I spent the weekend before the Hunt Ball in County Cork, attending an advanced cake-decorating course at a well-known cookery school. My love of gastronomy often compelled me to better my skills, and that particular course was so oversubscribed that I had been on a waiting list for well over a year. Hunt Ball or no Hunt Ball, that was one previous engagement that I wasn’t about to break! Although the course was more challenging than I had anticipated, I returned from the weekend refreshed and eager to bore the knickers off Jules on the drive up to Dublin the following Tuesday. Although Jules loved her food, she didn’t appreciate blow-by-blow accounts of how to prepare the perfect soufflé! In truth, I didn’t really obsess about food, but I loved to turn my enthusiasm up a notch or two, just to see the pained expression on my friend’s face. It seemed only fair that if I had to endure hearing about the finer points of the latest smudge-proof mascara or kiss-proof lipstick, that I should be able to enjoy a little culinary torture of my own. Jules arrived on the dot of eight o’clock on the morning of our trip to Dublin. The girl was sometimes tardy but never when it came to business or matters of retail. I didn’t bother to offer my shopping accomplish a cup of coffee, knowing that she would be chomping at the bit and anxious to get on the road. Jules was dressed from head to toe in Tommy Hilfiger and was wearing a pair of the latest Oakley sunglasses in preparation for the drive. Sitting into the car beside her, I also noticed that she was wearing a pair of brand new Nike trainers, not the tattered ones that she usually wore for driving before slipping into her six-inch heels. There was no doubt about it, the girl definitely meant business. We were going to shop until we dropped. We headed off without delay. It was a glorious autumn’s morning, and I was excited about the upcoming dance and eager to find something a little bit special for the occasion. As my thoughts drifted to Dan Bryant, I scratched a little bit special off my mental shopping list. I didn’t want to find something a little bit special, after all; I wanted to turn up at the ball in a dress that would knock his socks off! I didn’t want Dan Bryant to just notice me; I wanted him to want me. Just over an hour and a half later, Jules had found the perfect parking space in the Browne Thomas car park. An ample supply of city centre parking was one of the many advantages of midweek shopping, and we headed, without delay, to Bewley’s Café to get our first coffee-fix of the day. Having skipped breakfast in order to be ready when Jules called meant that I was ravenous and in need of more than just coffee. A hearty meal was essential to set me up for the task ahead. With this in mind, I ordered a portion of pancakes with maple syrup and a side order of sausage. Jules tried to resist having the same calorific feast, but in the end, resistance proved futile, and breakfast was delicious! After dining like kings, we headed to the Lancôme counter in Browne Thomas to get our make-up done. I usually felt self-conscience, having someone lavish attention on me, and more often than not I came away from these encounters fighting the urge to run to the nearest restroom to remove the mask that had been applied. But for some reason, I felt unusually relaxed that day, and I gave the girl carte blanche. In return, I was pleasantly surprised by the resulting effect, recognising for once a delicate accentuation of myself rather than a stranger in the mirror. I was so pleased, in fact, that I bought every product that Melissa, my newfound friend, had so artfully applied. Jules, on the other hand, did not fare so well and ended up resembling some garish gypsy from a tragic opera. It suffices to say that we made straight for the Ladies, fully equipped with cotton wool, cleanser, and a bag full of cosmetics! We were still empty-handed, as far as our party frocks went, three hours later, and we were becoming increasingly concerned and a little bit weary! We had one stop left on our list of possibilities as we headed to the top floor of the Powerscourt Town House Centre, and we hoped that we had unwittingly left the best shop until last. We had. The place was heaving with any amount of irresistible evening wear. We left the Design Centre some time later, clutching two very large bags and giggling with delight and relief. Things were finally under control, and we spent the rest of the afternoon in relative leisure shopping for footwear and accessories, secure in the knowledge that we would indeed be going to the ball in style. Jules and I had only stopped for one very brief coffee break since eating breakfast in Bewley’s that morning so that by the time we arrived back in Ballyedmond, we were both famished. ‘Fancy a bite in Mac’s?’ Jules asked, as we approached the town’s main street. ‘Why not!’ I agreed. Jules skilfully slid the Mercedes into the first available parking space. Entering Mac’s pub was like entering a womb. The lights were low, and the atmosphere was warm and welcoming. Business was brisk despite it being a week night, and I recognised a few faces as we passed through on our way to a small table at the far end of the bar. Mary MacNamara, or Mary Mac for short, the owner’s daughter, arrived promptly to take our order. It was obvious that despite her cheery disposition, she was under pressure. After Mary left, Jules continued to study the menu while I decided to freshen up before our orders arrived. I left Jules minding our table. The trip to the Ladies was uneventful. However, while returning to our table, I somehow managed to collide with none other than Dan Bryant, who was making his way from the bar carrying two pints of lager. ‘Oh, I am so sorry, Dan!’ I choked, grabbing a paper napkin from a nearby table and attempting to wipe spilt beer from his sleeve. ‘I was miles away!’ Yes, miles away, anticipating the sweet taste of Mac’s home cooking! ‘That’s all right, Libby. No harm done,’ Dan insisted graciously. ‘Actually, I’m glad we ran into each other. I wanted to thank you again for dinner the other evening. It was very good of you. Could I buy you a drink in return?’ he asked. ‘Thanks for the offer, Dan,’ I said, beginning to feel a little flustered by his proximity, ‘but I’m here with Jules Mahon, and we’ve just ordered one.’ ‘Another time then,’ said Dan, looking briefly around him and giving a wave of acknowledgement to Jules. Jules waved backed enthusiastically, and I was reminded that Jules knew the Bryants very well. As it happened, they were neighbours, living in the same housing development in Ballyedmond. Dan hesitated before saying, ‘Grand so, Libby. Enjoy your evening.’ With a little bow of his head, he turned to leave, and then thinking better of it, he turned back to me before saying, ‘By the way, I’ll probably be in touch with you by the end of next week about that other matter.’ ‘Okay,’ I said, and with that he was gone. I walked back to Jules, trying to compose myself on the way. Sitting down opposite her, I soon realised that I needn’t have bothered. ‘So Dan Bryant is the mystery man,’ Jules remarked noncommittally. ‘What?’ I asked, surprised by her intuition but determined nonetheless to play dumb. Her raised eyebrows and the patient expression on her face made me relent. ‘Is it that obvious, Jules?’ I groaned. ‘Only to me, darling,’ she soothed. ‘I know it sounds crazy, but I seem to have developed a terrible crush on the man,’ I whispered across the table to her, strangely relieved to at last be able to discuss my little infatuation with someone. ‘I’m not surprised!’ Jules whispered back. ‘Dan Bryant is very crushable in every sense of the word!’ ‘I feel like a teenager again,’ I groaned, my voice full of anguished longing. ‘To be honest, Libby, I didn’t realise that you knew Dan well enough to form a crush. It’s not like you to be swayed by looks alone.’ I was reminded of just how well Jules knew me. ‘You two certainly looked very cosy together! Is your relationship business or pleasure?’ she persisted. ‘Business, Jules. Unfortunately, it’s purely business,’ I sighed. ‘I’ll tell you all about it when we get back to the house.’ Jules nodded, unconcerned by any property ventures that I might have had planned. Mary Mac arrived with our food, and we ate in a silence broken only by the occasional expressions of appreciation for our food. Despite Jules not proceeding to barrage me with a million questions, I could tell that I had piqued her interest. In fact, it was her silence that was the most telling, and I knew that she wanted every last detail of my personal interest in Dan Bryant saved until we had absolute privacy. If I had anything even mildly salacious to reveal, then Jules wanted to be able to give full vent to her emotions. Otherwise the whole exercise would be a complete waste of time as far as she was concerned. This should be interesting, I thought, suddenly nervous at the prospect of Jules’s trawling through my own ill-defined feelings. By the time we finished our meal, Mary Mac was nowhere to be seen, and the buzz in the pub had subsided somewhat. We made our way to the bar, and catching the owner’s eye, Jules handed over fifty euros to cover the cost of the food and to include a tip. Paddy Mac gestured that we should wait a minute so that he could sort us out with change, but Jules passed him a wink and a wave, and we headed for the door. Dan was still drinking with someone at a small table near the exit, and both men raised their glasses in recognition as we passed. We reached Willow Cottage fifteen minutes later, and I was glad that I had taken the time to set the fire in the sitting room that morning. Within minutes, Jules and I were snuggled up in the fireside chairs, cupping two glasses of wine and choosing to completely forget about our journey to Dublin. We had far more interesting things to discuss. For the most part, Jules was enthusiastic about Alice-Rose and the potential for romance between Dan and me. On the one hand, Alice-Rose was anybody’s fancy, and Dan Bryant was a very nice man. But on the other, Alice-Rose was an awful lot of hard work, and Dan Bryant was old enough to be my father! The fact that I was barely older than his grown-up children was something else that had to be considered. Jules had a lot of insight into Dan’s marriage to the late Marie. It seemed that while Dan was well liked by all, Marie had not been. Once Dan began making some real money in the auctioneering business, his wife began busying herself with the ladies of the area who lunched. Climbing the social ladder became her main focus in life, and she didn’t care who she alienated on her way up. Most decent people had found Marie Bryant snobbish and rude. Tradespeople avoided working for her as her over-exacting standards were impossible to meet. Jules imagined that Dan must have led a tortured existence in the years prior to his wife’s death. By the end of our bottle of wine, we had come to the intoxicated conclusion that all in all I would be a much better companion for him. We didn’t dwell on the fact that Dan hadn’t given any indication whatsoever that he was even remotely interested in me. Where would the fun have been in that? Continued tomorrow evening...
Posted on: Fri, 02 Aug 2013 20:13:55 +0000
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