invalid.
“I’m so sorry, so sorry sobbed Aisling.
“I just don’t know what to do. How could this happen, I just don’t know?”
“Oh, you poor thing.” Jo leaned over the hand brake and hugged Aisling warmly, wishing she knew what to say. She tried to remember the sort of advice the magazine’s agony aunt would give, but found herself remembering the medical advice for first-time mothers over the age of thirty.
Aisling hiccuped.
“I knew things were different lately, but I thought it was me. I thought I’d got into a rut and that I had to sort myself out. But I never even thought of this. How could I?
“Was I the only person who didn’t know or should I have realised something was wrong? I don’t know.” She broke off suddenly, staring out the windscreen at nothing in particular.
“Look Ash, there’s no point torturing yourself now. Maybe it was just a short-term thing, maybe he’s sorry but he’s not able to admit it.”
“No, it’s not just a fling. It’s serious. He said our marriage was over.”
Jo stared silently at her friend, knowing that there was no quick solution to this problem. She opened the glove compartment, found a pack of travel tissues and handed Aisling one to replace the soggy, twisted one which was crumbling in her hands.”
Just moments ago, she had felt like someone living a glorious dream life of motherhood, with a fairytale wedding and contented family life just waiting in the wings. Now she felt about a hundred years old and very weary. Aisling and Michael had always epitomised the perfect couple to her:
what hope was there if they couldn’t make it?
It wasn’t as if Jo hadn’t witnessed enough relationship and marriage breakups already. She knew plenty of people who’d fought tooth and nail over every stick of furniture in their soon-to-be-sold house and automatically hissed ‘that bitch’ or ‘what a bastard’ when anyone mentioned their ex-partners’ names.
She’d learned to be careful when she bumped into people she hadn’t seen for a while you just never knew what a simple question like “How’s Gerry?” could provoke.
“Burning in Hell, I hope!” snarled one bitter friend the previous Christmas, when Jo had innocently inquired after the other woman’s once-adored husband.
She knew it was silly, but she’d always had this rose coloured view of the Morans’ marriage. Maybe it was because she’d been so close to
Aisling all those years ago and so thrilled when she’d fallen in love with Michael, but Jo really believed that they were perfect for one another. How blind had she been? A perfect house, two lovely children, a wife delighted to play housekeeper-cum-nanny and a handsome husband didn’t necessarily make an ideal marriage.
“I have to go home, Jo.” Aisling straightened up. The boys are with the babysitter and I must go home to them, honestly.” She smiled briefly, the professional-mother smile dusted off and brought down from the attic for an emergency.
“You go on, I’ll be fine.”
“I can’t leave you like this.” Jo was horrified.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ash …”
“You’re here to go to the party. They expect you.” Aisling shrugged, checking her blotchy face in the mirror.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She managed a grim smile.
“I’m sorry, Jo. I shouldn’t have told you this, it’s not your problem.”
“Of course, it’s … well, OK, it’s not my problem,” Jo stammered, ‘but you’re my friend, Ash, and you shouldn’t be on your own tonight. I just have to see Richard for a moment…” She broke off, desperate to tell Richard her news and knowing that Aisling wouldn’t want to wait there a moment longer. There’s something I have to tell him.”
“Don’t worry,” replied Aisling brusquely.
“I’ll ring Fiona when I get home. She’ll come in.” Aisling opened the car door and got out with Jo following her.
God, this was awful, Jo thought in distress. What was she
“I’m so sorry, so sorry sobbed Aisling.
“I just don’t know what to do. How could this happen, I just don’t know?”
“Oh, you poor thing.” Jo leaned over the hand brake and hugged Aisling warmly, wishing she knew what to say. She tried to remember the sort of advice the magazine’s agony aunt would give, but found herself remembering the medical advice for first-time mothers over the age of thirty.
Aisling hiccuped.
“I knew things were different lately, but I thought it was me. I thought I’d got into a rut and that I had to sort myself out. But I never even thought of this. How could I?
“Was I the only person who didn’t know or should I have realised something was wrong? I don’t know.” She broke off suddenly, staring out the windscreen at nothing in particular.
“Look Ash, there’s no point torturing yourself now. Maybe it was just a short-term thing, maybe he’s sorry but he’s not able to admit it.”
“No, it’s not just a fling. It’s serious. He said our marriage was over.”
Jo stared silently at her friend, knowing that there was no quick solution to this problem. She opened the glove compartment, found a pack of travel tissues and handed Aisling one to replace the soggy, twisted one which was crumbling in her hands.”
Just moments ago, she had felt like someone living a glorious dream life of motherhood, with a fairytale wedding and contented family life just waiting in the wings. Now she felt about a hundred years old and very weary. Aisling and Michael had always epitomised the perfect couple to her:
what hope was there if they couldn’t make it?
It wasn’t as if Jo hadn’t witnessed enough relationship and marriage breakups already. She knew plenty of people who’d fought tooth and nail over every stick of furniture in their soon-to-be-sold house and automatically hissed ‘that bitch’ or ‘what a bastard’ when anyone mentioned their ex-partners’ names.
She’d learned to be careful when she bumped into people she hadn’t seen for a while you just never knew what a simple question like “How’s Gerry?” could provoke.
“Burning in Hell, I hope!” snarled one bitter friend the previous Christmas, when Jo had innocently inquired after the other woman’s once-adored husband.
She knew it was silly, but she’d always had this rose coloured view of the Morans’ marriage. Maybe it was because she’d been so close to
Aisling all those years ago and so thrilled when she’d fallen in love with Michael, but Jo really believed that they were perfect for one another. How blind had she been? A perfect house, two lovely children, a wife delighted to play housekeeper-cum-nanny and a handsome husband didn’t necessarily make an ideal marriage.
“I have to go home, Jo.” Aisling straightened up. The boys are with the babysitter and I must go home to them, honestly.” She smiled briefly, the professional-mother smile dusted off and brought down from the attic for an emergency.
“You go on, I’ll be fine.”
“I can’t leave you like this.” Jo was horrified.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ash …”
“You’re here to go to the party. They expect you.” Aisling shrugged, checking her blotchy face in the mirror.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She managed a grim smile.
“I’m sorry, Jo. I shouldn’t have told you this, it’s not your problem.”
“Of course, it’s … well, OK, it’s not my problem,” Jo stammered, ‘but you’re my friend, Ash, and you shouldn’t be on your own tonight. I just have to see Richard for a moment…” She broke off, desperate to tell Richard her news and knowing that Aisling wouldn’t want to wait there a moment longer. There’s something I have to tell him.”
“Don’t worry,” replied Aisling brusquely.
“I’ll ring Fiona when I get home. She’ll come in.” Aisling opened the car door and got out with Jo following her.
God, this was awful, Jo thought in distress. What was she
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