‘Yes, everything,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry, Ed.’
‘Oh, come on, Erin, you can’t mean that.’ Ed too pushes his plate away. He downs the last drop of wine in his glass. ‘You think it’s better being over here in the arse end of nowhere with simple country folk. Really?’
I feel myself prickle. ‘Yes. Really,’ I snap. I lean closer. ‘As a matter of fact, despite everything, I do prefer it here. Here is real. Here is where my family is. People I love. Here is where my heart is.’
I sit back, my words surprising me as much as they appear to surprise Ed. In the heat of the moment, I’ve spoken without thinking. I realise my true feelings have come out. Defending my family, my heritage and my loved ones from the scorn of a London city snob, who can only measure happiness with a price tag.
Ed studies the bottom of his empty wine glass, which hangs between his finger and thumb. He lowers it back on to the table.
‘How I misjudged you,’ he says. He signals for the waiter and asks for two coffees. ‘I take it you’re still drinking coffee after a meal or would you prefer a cup of Barry’s Irish tea?’
I don’t dignify the cheap shot with an answer. I smile at the waiter. ‘Coffee will be fine, thank you.’ Once the waiter has left, I rise from the table. ‘I’m just going to the toilet.’ I need a bit of space to break the tension and row that is threatening to erupt. I also need time to let the thoughts that have bombarded me and taken me by surprise to settle.
Piped music filters through into the ladies’ washroom. I inspect myself in the mirror. I’ve just discovered something about myself I didn’t know existed, or rather something I thought had long been resigned to Room 101. The love for my family, in all its shapes and forms. Some loves might be greater than others and some loves might be on different levels for different reasons, but there is no doubt about it, the love is still there. The more I acknowledge this love and let it in, the stronger it becomes. I realise that love isn’t painful. It’s the not having love that hurts. The rejection. The betrayal. The loneliness. They hurt. Love doesn’t.
The sobering thought of Roisin crashes to the front of my mind, shoulder-charging all other emotions to one side. Roisin has the power to destroy my family, to break it up and scatter it across the village. I can’t let that happen. Despite what Fiona thinks about Roisin and her motives, I know Roisin better. I know what she’s capable of. She wants to bring my family down. I have a bad feeling that she just might, somehow. My love for my family fuels the primal instinct to protect. I have to protect my family first. To protect them is to love them.
I rest my hands on the washbasin, my head bowed while I consider my options. There is no place for the faint-hearted here, only the brave.
I need to get home. Away from Ed. I have things to sort out.
I return to the table, where my coffee is waiting. Ed has already drunk his.
‘It’s probably cold now,’ he says nodding towards my cup. ‘Would you like me to order you a fresh one?’
‘No, it’s fine, thank you,’ I say, noting the lack of confrontation in his voice.
‘So, it’s really all over?’ he says. He looks sad, but I decide it’s probably a sadness that he has been defeated rather than a sadness that he has lost me.
‘I think so,’ I reply. ‘And, about my job…I won’t be coming back for that either.’
Ed nods. ‘Saves me trying to think of a legitimate excuse to sack you.’ He gives a laugh, which I’m not entirely sure he means, but I let it go. I have other things on my mind.
‘Would you mind dropping me back now?’ I ask.
‘Let’s go, I’ve already paid the bill,’ says Ed, rising from his seat.
We travel back in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. There’s nothing more I want to say. We both know it’s over between us. It was over a long time ago. I could argue it had never really started. Not in the way a true lifelong relationship does, on equal terms, an equal footing, equal motives and equal goals. I was his Eliza Doolittle and there’s nothing equal about that.
Ed pulls up in the parking bay outside the café. ‘I’ll walk you round,’ he says, his hand reaching for the door handle.
‘No, it’s okay,’ I say quickly. I look over at Ed and we exchange a smile of acknowledgement. This is the end. ‘I’m sorry things never worked out the way we wanted. I think this is for the best. For both of us.’
‘You’re probably right,’ he says. ‘You never really fitted in with the crowd.’