‘He has been in such a mood from the moment he arrived.’ Maeve was chewing on her lip.
‘A couple of beers and he’ll be golden. Travelling’s a bitch isn’t it?’ I nudged her. ‘Speaking of – drink?’
She nodded, and we were about to follow the boys when I saw Dad walk into the pub. ‘Be there in a sec, okay?’
‘I’ll get you a Corona. Say hi to Bill for me.’
I met him at the entrance, feeling the anxiety coming off him in waves.
‘Hey kiddo.’ He gave me a big one-armed squeeze. ‘You look nice.’
I looked down at my lilac jumpsuit; a step outside of my comfort zone, encouraged by Ella on a random lunch break a few weeks ago.
‘Thanks, Dad. How are you?’
I gave him a once-over and he raised an eyebrow. ‘Eating three meals a day, promise.’
‘Sorry, force of habit.’ Regardless of who was to blame for the breakdown of their marriage, our dad was still our dad, and he’d suffered the most for it in the end. When we were kids, Joe had been a complete mummy’s boy, but I’d followed my dad around like a shadow. That closeness had never dwindled, even during the worst of it when he’d stay in the office until after I’d gone to bed. Every morning when I woke up, there would be some kind of treat on my bedside table. A rubber shaped like a rainbow, or a packet of mini Jammie Dodgers. When I went to university, he sent me off with bags and bags of fusilli and Dolmio. I lived in fear that those things were all he ate nowadays too.
‘Well, I promise. Made a ham and cheese omelette last night, food of the gods. Been painting the bathroom today. You’ll have to come and see it. Joe, too.’
I didn’t think Dad was ever going to get out of the mindset that Joe and I needed a specific reason to come see him. I’d explained a hundred times that wasn’t how it worked.
‘All right, Bill? Extra lime wedge in there, just how you like it.’ Rory stepped up behind us, his own beer in one hand and a pint of Diet Coke in the other. Dad had gone sober a few years back, which had been a massive relief to both me and Joe.
‘Thanks Rory.’
Rory nodded, and I felt a warm current of affection for him. The boy really did pay attention. ‘Cheers to at least one of the Webbers rustling up a nice little nest.’
The affection cooled, and I smacked his arm. ‘You’re not funny.’
Rory hooked his arm around my neck and pulled me in, planting a quick kiss on my head. ‘We can be nest-less birds together, Pen, don’t you worry.’
‘Not if the app works out for me.’
Rory cleared his throat. ‘Ah yes, that.’
Dad clinked his glass against Rory’s pint. ‘You two are ridiculous. Where’s your mum?’ He craned his neck. ‘Are they doughnuts over there?’
‘They are.’ I shot him a look. ‘But if you eat one before Isla and Joe get here, I think she might go into cardiac arrest.’
He patted his chest, pretending to look wounded. ‘What do you take me for?’
I gave him another look, remembering the arguments caused by biscuits consumed straight from the oven back when he lived with us.
‘I swear on Cookie’s life I won’t steal any baked goods. Anyway, I’m going to go and say hello.’
Cookie was Dad’s rescue beagle with a reputation for howling. He’d found a dog sitter for the evening. We both watched him head over to my mum.
‘Oh, Bill.’ Rory squeezed my arm. ‘He looks good, Pen.’
‘He does.’ I nodded, watching him catch Mum’s elbow and pull her in for an awkward hug. Over the years they’d learnt to be civil – well, Mum had learnt to lower her cold front – both of them realising that they were always going to be present in one another’s lives. I knew it took a lot out of my dad, and he was one of the main reasons I couldn’t stand the thought of dating; look what it could do to a person. He’d been career-driven in his youth, making plenty of money and climbing the ladder at the detriment of his marriage. Now he didn’t even seem that interested in work, content to do the bare minimum during his nine to five and potter around his flat on the weekends doing DIY. I couldn’t understand, and I didn’t ever want to.
‘One Corona.’ Maeve appeared in front of me again, already halfway through hers. ‘Ask and you shall receive.’
I took a swig, watching Rory as he mingled across the room, flirting with Isla’s florist friends. ‘Are you seeing this?’
He was leaning in and saying something to make them laugh, the two of them inching closer to him. Like he’d sensed me staring, he looked up at me and winked in a ‘what can I say, they love me’ kind of way.
‘I am indeed. Our Rory, the undeniable flirt.’
Adrian had joined us and was watching too. ‘And why not? He’s single. Best part about it.’
I winced, watching Maeve’s hackles immediately rise. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’
Adrian shrugged. ‘Nothing.’
Her expression had crumpled slightly, but she picked herself back up.
‘Penny gets territorial over Ror.’ She nudged me. ‘Has done ever since we were in first year. He’d head out on first dates and she’d spend the whole evening speculating about how bad it might be going.’
‘That’s not true.’
Maeve blinked back at me.
‘It’s not!’
‘I’m not caving in to your therapist eyes.’ I looked at Adrian, who had one eyebrow raised. ‘Either of you.’
