It was almost five hours later when I arrived at Paddy’s place to the smell of cooked bacon and burnt toast. Paddy was sitting at his kitchen table nursing his head, but when he heard his mom greet me he scraped back his chair and rushed at me to give me a hug.
“Thank Christ you’re here. I’ve been stuck with her moaning at me since you called, and she’s been driving me insane.”
“Now, Patrick O’Leary! I won’t have you blaspheming Our Lord, especially on our Saint’s day,” she scolded. Paddy rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Who had the bright idea that this should be a traditional wedding? She’s been on my case since I arrived home at ten to midnight.”
“Patrick, sit and eat, you’ve a big day ahead of you,” she interjected placing a huge cooked breakfast before us.
“I’ll have a big day in the jailhouse for murder if she doesn’t stop nagging me,” he whispered from the side of his mouth just out of her earshot.
It was hysterical to see our wild man of the group being managed by his mother. I made mental notes of the stuff she threatened him with as we ate our breakfast, knowing his wife-to-be, Bernadette, would get a kick out of it. She’d had a hard time taming him… or maybe she’d been learning from his mother.
Following breakfast, we went into full swing of having showers, dressing in matching suits, and finally we made our way to the country house the wedding was taking place at.
Paddy grumbled the whole way there about his mother because she had insisted Bernadette stay at the country house while he stayed at his home, citing tradition as her excuse. Bernadette had agreed it wasn’t lucky to see the bride before the wedding.
Fortunately, he thought I’d had a miserable time so he toned his complaints down and offered me sympathy instead for the ‘ordeal’ I’d been through. I’d gladly have gone through that ordeal with Daisy any day of the week… and I fully intended to make sure I did so again.
It was weird because although I wanted to support Paddy, what I really wanted was to retrace my treacherous journey to Dublin.
How I got through the service I’ll never know, but I was glad of the hearty meal that followed, and laughed at the dancing afterwards. I may as well have stayed at Daisy’s because from where I stood during that evening it looked like a replay of my night before. Another set of seniors with wickedly awesome music skills and people doing strange things with their legs.
About ten in the evening, Paddy and Bernadette set off on their honeymoon, which consisted of another 4x4 driving away from the snowy grounds of the country house venue with tin cans tied to the back and 'Just married' written in shaving foam.
Five minutes later they reappeared when the dancing had resumed, then Paddy and his new bride snuck up to the honeymoon suite. The leaving and coming back part didn’t make much sense to me but I supposed it was Bernadette’s encore, herway of grabbing some last minute attention while dressed in her long, strapless, white satin wedding gown.
After Paddy had gone to bed I was left looking down the barrel of fifty or so females who all seemed to want a piece of me.
During the day there had been the occasional flutter of eyelashes, accidental touching, and various other signs a few would hit on me at some point, but they had remained on their best behaviour until the bride and groom had left. However from how their hungry stares were levied at me after that then, it had felt like they were predatory and I was easy prey.
All day my mind had flitted back to Daisy and I’d thought about her reaction when she had woken and found my note. I had been tempted to call her a couple of times as well, but I backed out because I didn’t have the right words to convey how I felt about leaving her that way.
Any woman in her right mind would have viewed my call as a meaningless afterthought, and I knew was determined to put that right before it was too late. So with Paddy out of my hair and my job done at his wedding I wondered what it would take to get back to Dublin.
Dodging the hungry looking females, I sought out Paddy’s mom and made her aware of the potential riot she had on her hands since Paddy and Bernadette had left. When she glanced at the salacious smiles on the faces of the women in question she agreed, telling me I should leave before a fight broke out as they were a highly competitive bunch.
I told her I wanted to head back to Dublin and she assumed it was because my plane was there—that was one of the reasons, but not my main one.
Seconds later she’d helped by placing a call to the guys that had brought me, then informed me I had the luck of the Irish because they were about to leave. By 2:45 am I had swapped my penguin suit and starched white shirt for my jeans and my t- shirt again.
At 3:00 a.m I was was buckled up tight inside the same 4X4 that had come to my rescue and I was on my way back to Daisy.
Chapter Nine
The journey back down to the South took a lot less time than the one on the way up, since the snow had at least stopped, and the roads had already been cleared.
Throughout the journey I was nervous about the reception I’d receive from Daisy after the way I had left, but I had an inner confidence that once she’d considered why I’d had to leave and how quickly I’d returned, she’d understand that what had happened between us wasn’t something I’d taken lightly.
By the time the guys dropped me off it was only 6:10 am and the streets were silent. It struck me that there was always something serenely peaceful about a town covered in a white blanket of snow. The sky was still dark, but with a grey hazy reflection due to the unshed snow still held up there.
Closing the door of the 4x4, I promised tickets to our gig when DistRoyed were next in the country and turned my head slowly to look at the black rectangular upstairs windows.
The sound of silence deafened me once my ride had driven out of sight and I absorbed the moment of calm before my heart raced with thoughts of the possible reaction I’d receive from the girl I’d fucked and deserted just over a day before.
A noise drew my eyes to the door and I watched it crack open as Terry, Daisy’s barman appeared with a petite, blonde-haired woman.
“Oh, Barney, it's you.” He stared wide-eyed for a moment then added, “Daisy told me you’d gone home,” he explained, pulling the girl by the arm as he went to close the door. I slapped my hand on the wood and shook my head.
“I did think about it, but I went to visit someone else and decided it was too late to go to the airport; besides, I’d never get a flight with this weather.” I gestured at the white blanket of snow again and shrugged my shoulders.
“Ah, well, lucky for you I was still here. We had one hell of a St. Patrick’s Day, ran out of the best whiskeys and almost drained of the rest. Daisy was dead on her feet and went to bed around 4am after the ‘lock in’ for the locals.
“Lock in?”
“Yeah, when the real fun starts. Drinking after licensing hours, kinda like a private party.”
“Oh, right,” I said as I stood half in, half out of the doorway. Well, I better let you get home and I’ll just sneak up the stairs to bed.”
“Right. I’m not in tomorrow until 5pm and Daisy has the day off. Her friend Maria is coming in to cover the bar first thing. Cleaners have keys and will be here at 8am.”