made some gesture to Bridey and she stepped forward. ‘Happy fiftieth birthday, Mum. Here’s my gift.’
‘Thanks, bunny.’ She tried to make a big deal of the unwrapping but more tears were threatening.
‘Perfume!’ Bridey declared, as Jessie opened the box.
Johnny had obviously bought this. Probably on an emergency department-store dash yesterday lunchtime. If he took any interest in her, he’d know that she never wore perfume. It just wasn’t her thing. And she was disproportionately upset that Bridey hadn’t picked out the present herself. Last year, Bridey had bought her a whistle – ‘In case of emergency.’ Thought had gone into that.
She braced herself for the next present, Dilly’s this time. Same wrapping paper as Bridey’s. Her money was on red satin knickers in the wrong size. And a matching bra from TJ, no doubt.
‘Mum, are you crying?’ Dilly asked, appalled.
‘No, bunny. No, I’m just …’
‘Guys!’ Ferdia sounded super-cheery. ‘You know what? Let’s leave Mum to enjoy her birthday rest. We’ll finish this later.’
Confused, everyone except Johnny trooped from the room.
‘Jessie. I’m so –’
‘I know. You’re sorry.’
‘I have a gift for you.’ He proffered a fancily wrapped box.
She knew about the Fendi bag, like of course she did, Mary-Laine’s instructions to Johnny had come directly from Jessie. ‘I don’t want it.’
He swallowed. ‘I don’t blame you for being angry.’
‘I’m not angry. I’m hurt.’ She burst into a storm of noisy tears. ‘No, get away, I don’t want your smelly, selfish hands on me.’ Her face was drenched from crying. ‘It’s not just the weekend. What was going on last month in Mayo? What were you trying to tell me?’
‘N-nothing.’
‘Johnny. Look. I can’t stop thinking terrible things. Are you … Is something going on? Have you met someone else?’
‘No. I swear.’
‘So what’s up with you?’
‘I was trying to save money. I was worried, but I picked the wrong thing to worry about.’
‘I work hard, Johnny. Easily as hard as you. But you all think I’m just some bossy gobshite who pays for everything. Nobody cares about me.’
‘It’s not true.’
‘It is. Look at how you all treat me. That insane fucking weekend in that insane fucking place! That’s what you thought I deserved?’
‘I didn’t know it would be as mad as it was –’
‘You bought all those shit presents from the kids? They didn’t bother.’
‘Ferdia and Saoirse bought theirs.’
‘Other mothers get homemade presents. Papier-mâché things that thought and love have gone into. Instead my children’s dad has to buy generic “pissed-off wife” presents on a department-store trolley dash.’
‘Is there any way I can salvage this? I’ll do anything.’
‘You’re asking me to help you fix your fuck-up with me? That says it all. Fuck off, Johnny. Just fuck off. I’m going back to sleep.’
For ages, he hovered.
Curled into a sad, angry ball, she couldn’t see him but his nervy breathing was audible. After a while the sound stopped so she concluded he’d left.
Though she craved oblivion, it was impossible to sleep.
Instead, to self-soothe, she went through the permutations of leaving him.
He could live in his Airbnb flat in the city and she’d stay here in the house with the kids. Although right now she didn’t want them either.
Maybe she could live in the flat. With the dogs. Johnny could stay here with the children. That would fucking show him.
Their finances would have to be disentangled, of course. PiG had only two shareholders – herself and Johnny: pulling those separate strands apart might be messy.
But she didn’t want to fight over money. For all his faults, Johnny had given a lot to the company and he deserved his stake.
She would shame him with her magnanimity. Although continuing to work together in the same space could pose a problem.
What about his brothers and their families? Would they remain close?
She’d like to. With Cara and Nell anyway. And Ed, she liked Ed. Liam, she could take or leave.
Yes, maintaining those relationships would require some manoeuvring, but something would be sorted. Especially because she was going to be irritatingly mature about the whole business.
She noticed that her mood had shifted – planning to leave him was cheering stuff.
What was most heartening was imagining how sorry he’d be that he hadn’t treated her better.
They’d all be sorry.
Downstairs, Johnny lurked in an agony of uncertainty. Going to work would compound Jessie’s conviction that none of them cared. Sitting on the stairs, ear cocked for any movement from above, he rang the florist with whom he’d placed a last-minute order yesterday and begged them to intercept the driver so that the