At dinner Todd said that Alma was a slapper and Glenn seemed to have eyes only for one of the near-naked courier girls. They went off to another club and I went to bed and listened to the music coming from all over Bella Aurora.
I was looking forward to meeting Nick the next day. And then the days got into a very nice, easy rhythm.
Nick and I went out every day together. Sometimes we took a bus to various inland villages and on two occasions I skipped the 3 p.m. buffet lunch but I never missed the dinner.
"Could I come to the dinner one night?" he asked.
Nobody had ever brought a guest in so I said I'd have to inquire.
"I'd pay, of course, and bring some wine," he said.
"I'll tell them that," I reassured him.
One of the near-naked courier girls said it was not normally allowed but that it was no problem in my case. So I invited Nick.
"I'm a bit nervous, as if I were meeting your family," he said. I had told him about Todd and Glenn and Sharon and Alma and their complicated lives. I had told them nothing about Nick.
The night he came to dinner Glenn was kissing the near-naked courier girl instead of eating his dinner, Sharon was crying, Alma was telling everyone that Todd was a toe-rag.
"What is that exactly?" I asked.
"A scut," Alma said, which didn't make things any clearer.
Nick took it all in.
"It's the climate and the drink," he told Sharon. "Get Glenn away from the booze and the heat for a day, up to a nice shady village where you can talk without all this flesh around. You'll be fine."
And he told Todd to stop behaving like a horse's ass or he'd end up going home a total loser, and that nice girl was only calling him a toe-rag because she fancied him. And Nick came to dinner all the nights except the last one, where we went out by ourselves and discussed all the things we had in common.
He lived in Dublin and had a little car but he was nervous of motorways and only liked driving on back roads. Maybe he could drive me down to Rossmore and I could show him these famous woods that everyone was getting excited about.
"And I could meet your cousins," he said tentatively.
"They will disapprove of you, they disapprove of everyone and everything," I told him.
He thought this was great.
"What will I talk about to them?" he asked.
"They will interrogate you," I explained. "And then when they have found out enough, they will blind you with their views about a new bypass being a National Disgrace, and they will ask you to write letters to the papers about it."
"And is it a National Disgrace?" Nick asked.
"No, it's totally necessary, Rossmore is like a parking lot except you can't get in or out of it. Should have been done years ago."
"But this holy well?"
"It's a pagan shrine. The whitethorn is meant to have some kind of magic about it—farmers never want to cut it down. The whole thing is hysterical rubbish of the highest order."
Nick said he found me very entertaining. And wasn't it great that he only lived a short bus ride away from me, and how he had always wanted to learn about gardening but thought it might be too late and how I had always wanted to sketch but didn't know how to begin, and how liking your own company was good but liking someone else's was better.
The next day, when we were leaving, Glenn and Sharon were arm in arm, and Todd was carrying Alma's suitcase for her.
When the near-naked courier girl was checking us back into the bus she asked me would I be coming back on another singles holiday. I looked at her from under my flowery sun hat and said that next year I might well not qualify for a singles holiday at all.
Chez Sharon
Well, I just hated coming home from that holiday. Hated it, I tell you. When we were pushing the trolleys through Dublin airport I had a big knot in my stomach. I was dead sure it was all over now, a
I was looking forward to meeting Nick the next day. And then the days got into a very nice, easy rhythm.
Nick and I went out every day together. Sometimes we took a bus to various inland villages and on two occasions I skipped the 3 p.m. buffet lunch but I never missed the dinner.
"Could I come to the dinner one night?" he asked.
Nobody had ever brought a guest in so I said I'd have to inquire.
"I'd pay, of course, and bring some wine," he said.
"I'll tell them that," I reassured him.
One of the near-naked courier girls said it was not normally allowed but that it was no problem in my case. So I invited Nick.
"I'm a bit nervous, as if I were meeting your family," he said. I had told him about Todd and Glenn and Sharon and Alma and their complicated lives. I had told them nothing about Nick.
The night he came to dinner Glenn was kissing the near-naked courier girl instead of eating his dinner, Sharon was crying, Alma was telling everyone that Todd was a toe-rag.
"What is that exactly?" I asked.
"A scut," Alma said, which didn't make things any clearer.
Nick took it all in.
"It's the climate and the drink," he told Sharon. "Get Glenn away from the booze and the heat for a day, up to a nice shady village where you can talk without all this flesh around. You'll be fine."
And he told Todd to stop behaving like a horse's ass or he'd end up going home a total loser, and that nice girl was only calling him a toe-rag because she fancied him. And Nick came to dinner all the nights except the last one, where we went out by ourselves and discussed all the things we had in common.
He lived in Dublin and had a little car but he was nervous of motorways and only liked driving on back roads. Maybe he could drive me down to Rossmore and I could show him these famous woods that everyone was getting excited about.
"And I could meet your cousins," he said tentatively.
"They will disapprove of you, they disapprove of everyone and everything," I told him.
He thought this was great.
"What will I talk about to them?" he asked.
"They will interrogate you," I explained. "And then when they have found out enough, they will blind you with their views about a new bypass being a National Disgrace, and they will ask you to write letters to the papers about it."
"And is it a National Disgrace?" Nick asked.
"No, it's totally necessary, Rossmore is like a parking lot except you can't get in or out of it. Should have been done years ago."
"But this holy well?"
"It's a pagan shrine. The whitethorn is meant to have some kind of magic about it—farmers never want to cut it down. The whole thing is hysterical rubbish of the highest order."
Nick said he found me very entertaining. And wasn't it great that he only lived a short bus ride away from me, and how he had always wanted to learn about gardening but thought it might be too late and how I had always wanted to sketch but didn't know how to begin, and how liking your own company was good but liking someone else's was better.
The next day, when we were leaving, Glenn and Sharon were arm in arm, and Todd was carrying Alma's suitcase for her.
When the near-naked courier girl was checking us back into the bus she asked me would I be coming back on another singles holiday. I looked at her from under my flowery sun hat and said that next year I might well not qualify for a singles holiday at all.
Chez Sharon
Well, I just hated coming home from that holiday. Hated it, I tell you. When we were pushing the trolleys through Dublin airport I had a big knot in my stomach. I was dead sure it was all over now, a
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