bed. ‘The world of Irish set design is a very small one.’
Abruptly she stopped. ‘You’re pissed off! You’d be happier if they’d said I was shit.’
‘Bollocks.’
No, it wasn’t.
Maybe it was …
A silent stare-off ensued, then Nell swung off to the bathroom.
‘Come on,’ Nell said. ‘Grab your weekend bag and let’s go.’
Liam made a face. ‘Yeah, you know, I’m not feeling it.’
Startled, tripping over her words, she said, ‘This isn’t just a jolly we can opt out of. Jessie needs us to work.’
Irritably he said, ‘She’s got dozens of minions down at that festival.’
‘We said we’d be there for her.’
‘And I’ve changed my mind. My job is a mare, I’m studying on my own time for another career, and I’m expected to work for free on my weekend off.’
There were a hundred ways she could shoot this down, but suddenly she didn’t care. ‘Well, I’m going.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Because she’s depending on me.’
‘No, baby, don’t. Stay here with me.’
‘Will you even tell her you’re not coming?’
‘You’re really going? Then you tell her.’
She stepped into the kitchen and rang Jessie.
‘Nell?’ Jessie answered. ‘Y’okay?’
‘Grand. But, Jessie, Liam isn’t …’ Why should she cover for him? ‘Liam won’t be coming to Harvest.’
‘Is it his bad back?’
Jessie was so willing to give Liam the benefit of the doubt that Nell felt a huge rush of love for her.
‘His back is grand. And I’m still coming.’
‘You don’t have to. I can get –’
‘I want to. I’ll text Ed, see if he’ll give me a lift down.’
Cara let herself into the house to find Ed in the hall, his backpack at his feet, keen to get going to Harvest.
She could have been home an hour earlier, instead of floating around Brown Thomas. But it was still too soon to tell him that she’d stopped going to Peggy. Another few weeks should do it.
‘Honey, go,’ she said. ‘Have a great time.’
‘The car’s being temperamental,’ he said. ‘I hope it survives the journey. Sorry to leave you all alone with this pair.’
‘Don’t be sorry. I’m going out tomorrow night.’
Vinnie and Tom would be spending the night with Dorothy and Angus.
‘I know. I just …’
‘If you’re worried I’ll go on some mad binge, I can tell you that I won’t.’
‘I didn’t mean …’
‘It’s fine, it’s fine.’ She tried to wave away the acrimony. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’ll call you.’ He still looked unsure. ‘Have a great time with Gabby.’
‘You have a great time too.’
When he’d gone, she put the boys in front of a movie and a giant bowl of homemade popcorn and slid on her headphones. One of her favourite YouTubers had just uploaded their stay in the Haritha Villas, Sri Lanka, literally walking her through every stunning step of it. It was over the top but oh-so-fabulous.
After that she immersed herself in a duplex suite in the George Cinq, then a luxury tree-house in Costa Rica …
‘Mum.’
‘Mum.’ Her leg was being poked. She lifted off one of the earphones. Vinnie was yelling, ‘MUM! Movie’s over. Ice-cream!’
‘Okay. Take it easy, sweetie.’ She moved to the kitchen and rummaged around in the freezer. ‘What flavour? Pistachio?’
‘No!’
‘I’d rather die,’ Tom said primly.
‘Chocolate?’
‘Yes!’
Three small scoops in two small bowls, that would do them. As she shut the freezer door with her hip, she automatically licked the scoop. Oh, my God, it was so intensely delicious that she felt light-headed.
In the living room, she watched the boys devour their ice-cream.
Sugar was not something she could avoid for ever. At some stage, she’d have to start eating normally again. Now was as good a time as any.
Back in the kitchen she got herself two medium-sized scoops of chocolate ice-cream. Then sat down and ate them.
Nothing bad happened.
EIGHTY-NINE
Harvest boasted impeccable eco-credentials. Indeed, no sooner had Ed parked his car than Nell had counted two, three … no four Teslas.
‘This crowd really are eco-sound,’ she said to Ed.
‘Yeaaahhh.’ He sounded doubtful. ‘All the same, Jessie says they kicked off big-time when the helipad was scrapped.’
It was almost eight in the evening, the light was dimming, and dozens of people were crossing the field, heading for the entrance, carrying – even in the gloom Nell noticed this – very sleek-looking weekend bags. A lot of Louis Vuitton.
Almost as soon as she was through the gate, a troupe of samba dancers, about thirty strong, kitted out in full carnival regalia, went dancing by, their feathered headdresses swaying.
‘That’s the pop-up Mardi Gras,’ Ed said.
Mesmerized, she watched them go.
Ed was consulting his app. ‘Jessie and the gang are at the Singing Vegan, which is