HOLLY WAS RUNNING LATE AS she rushed around her bedroom trying to get dressed for the ball. She had spent the past two hours applying her makeup, crying and smudging it and then reapplying it. She rolled the mascara brush over her eyelashes for the fourth time, praying the tear reservoir had run dry for the night. An unlikely prospect, but a girl could always hope.
“Cinderella, your prince has arrived!” Sharon yelled upstairs to Holly.
Holly’s heart raced, she needed more time. She needed to sit down and rethink the idea of going to the ball all over again, as she had completely forgotten her reasons for going. Now she was faced with only the negatives.
Reasons not to go: She didn’t want to go at all, she would spend all night crying, she would be stuck at a table full of so-called friends who hadn’t talked to her since Gerry had died, she felt like shit, she looked like shit and Gerry wouldn’t be there.
Reasons to go: She had an overwhelming feeling that she needed to go.
She breathed slowly, trying to prevent a whole new batch of tears from appearing.
“Holly, be strong, you can do this,” she whispered to her reflection in the mirror. “You need to do this, it will help you, it will make you stronger.” She repeated this over and over again until a creak at the door made her jump.
“Sorry,” Sharon apologized, appearing from around the door. “Oh Holly, you look fabulous!”
she said excitedly.
“I look like shit,” Holly grumbled.
“Oh, stop saying that,” Sharon said angrily. “I look like a blimp and do you hear me complaining? Accept the fact that you’re a babe!” She smiled at her in the mirror, “You’ll be fine.”
“I just want to stay home tonight, Sharon. I have to open Gerry’s last message.” Holly couldn’t believe the time had come to open the last one. After tomorrow there would be no more kind words from Gerry, and she still felt that she needed them. In all her excitement back in April, she couldn’t wait for the months to pass so that she could rip the envelopes open and read that perfect handwriting, but she had wished the months away all too quickly and now it was the end. She wanted to stay in that night and savor their last special moment.
“I know,” Sharon said, understanding. “But that can wait for a few hours, can’t it?”
Holly was just about to say no when John shouted up the stairs. “Come on, girls! The taxi’s waiting! We have to collect Tom and Denise!”
Before Holly followed Sharon downstairs she slid open the drawer of her dressing table and took out the November letter from Gerry she had opened weeks ago. She needed his words of encouragement to help her out now. She ran her fingers over the ink and pictured him writing it.
She pictured the face he made when he wrote that she always used to tease him about. It was a face of pure concentration; his tongue even licked his lips as he wrote. She loved that face. She missed that face. She slid the card from the envelope. She needed strength from this letter, and she knew she would find it. Every day, she read:
Cinderella must go to the ball this month. And she will look glamorous and beautiful and have the time of her life just like always . . . But no white dresses this year . . .
PS, I love you . . .
Holly took a deep breath and followed Sharon downstairs.
“Wow,” Daniel said, his mouth dropping open. “You look fabulous, Holly.”
“I look like shit,” Holly grumbled, and Sharon shot her a look. “But thanks,” she quickly added.
John Paul had helped her choose a simple black halter-neck dress, with a split to the thigh up the middle. No white dresses this year.
They all piled into the seven-seater taxi, and as they approached each set of traffic lights Holly prayed that they would turn red. No such luck. For once the traffic on the streets of Dublin cleared, and after picking up Tom and Denise, they made it to the hotel in record time. Despite her prayers, a mud slide didn’t cascade down the Dublin Mountains and no volcano erupted.
Hell refused to freeze over too.
They stepped up to the table just inside the door of the function room and Holly looked to the ground as she felt all eyes in their direction from the women eager to see how the newcomers were dressed. When they were satisfied that they were still the most beautiful people there, they turned away and continued their conversations. The woman sitting behind the desk smiled as they approached her. “Hello Sharon, hello John, hi Denise . . . oh gosh!” Her face might actually have gone whiter under her streaky fake-tanned face, but Holly couldn’t be sure. “Oh hello, Holly, it’s so good of you to come considering . . .” She trailed off and quickly flicked through the guest list to tick off their names.
“Let’s go to the bar,” Denise said, linking her arm in Holly’s and dragging her away from the woman.
As they walked across the room to the bar a woman Holly hadn’t spoken to for months approached her. “Holly, I was sorry to hear about Gerry. He was a lovely man.”
“Thank you.” Holly smiled and was dragged away again by Denise. They finally reached the bar.
“Hi there, Holly,” a familiar voice behind her said.
“Oh hello, Paul,” she said, turning to face the large businessman who sponsored the charity. He was tall and overweight with a bright red face, probably due to the stress of running one of Ireland’s most successful businesses. That and the fact that he drank too much. He looked like he was choking underneath the tightness of his bow tie and he pulled at it, looking uncomfortable. The buttons on his tuxedo looked like they were about to pop any moment.
Holly didn’t know him very well; he was just one of the people she knew from meeting at the ball every year.
“You’re looking as lovely as always.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Can I get you a drink?”
he asked, holding his hand up to attract the barman’s attention.
“Oh no, thanks,” she smiled.
“Ah let me,” he said, taking his bulging wallet out of his pocket. “What’ll you have?”
Holly gave in, “A white wine then, please, if you insist.” She smiled.
“I might as well get a drink for that miserable husband of yours,” he laughed. “What’s he having?” he asked, searching the room for him.
“Oh, he’s not here, Paul,” Holly said, feeling uncomfortable.
“Ah why not? The dryshite. What’s he up to?” Paul asked loudly.
“Em, he passed away early in the year, Paul,” Holly said gently, hoping not to embarrass him.
“Oh,” Paul reddened even more and he cleared his throat nervously. He stared down at the bar.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” he stuttered and looked away. He pulled at his bow tie again.
“Thank you,” Holly said, counting the seconds in her head till he made an excuse to leave the conversation. He left after three seconds, saying he had to bring his wife her drink. Holly was left standing at the bar alone, as Denise had made her way back to the group with their drinks.
She picked up her glass of wine and headed over.
“Hi, Holly.”
She turned to see who had called her name.
“Oh, hello, Jennifer.” She was faced with another woman she knew only from attending the ball. She was dressed in an over-the-top ball gown, dripping in expensive jewelry, and she held a glass of champagne between the thumb and forefinger of her gloved hand. Her blond hair was almost white, and her skin was dark and leathery as a result of too much sun.
“How are you? You look fab, the dress is fab!” She sipped on her champagne and looked Holly up and down.
“I’m fine, thank you, you?”
“I’m just fab, thanks. Gerry not with you tonight?” she looked around the room for him.
“No, he passed away in February,” she repeated gently.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” She placed her glass of champagne down on the table next to them and her hands flew to her face, her forehead creasing with worry. “I had no idea. How are you keeping, you poor love?” she reached out and placed her hand on Holly’s arm.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Holly repeated, smiling to keep the atmosphere light.
“Oh, you poor thing.” Jennifer’s voice was hushed and she looked at her pityingly. “You must be devastated.”
“Well yes, it is hard, but I’m dealing with it. Trying to be positive, you know?”
“Gosh, I don’t know how you can be, that’s awful news.” Her eyes continued to bore into Holly.
She seemed to look at her differently now. Holly nodded along and wished this woman would stop telling her what she already knew.
“And was he ill?” she probed.
“Yes, he had a brain tumor,” she explained.
“Oh dear, that’s awful. And he was so young.” Every word she emphasized became a high-pitched screech.
“Yes he was . . . but we had a happy life together, Jennifer.” She once again tried to keep the atmosphere positive, a concept she didn’t think this woman was aware of.
“Yes you did, but what a shame it wasn’t a longer life. That’s devastating for you. Absolutely awful and so unfair. You must feel miserable. And how on earth did you come here tonight?
With all these couples around?” She looked around at all the couples as though there were suddenly a bad smell in the air.
“Well, you just have to learn to move on,” Holly smiled.
“Of course you do. But it must be so difficult. Oh, how awful.” She held her gloved hands up to her face, looking appalled.
Holly smiled and spoke through gritted teeth, “Yes, it’s difficult, but like I said you just have to stay positive and move on. Anyway, speaking of moving on, I better go and join my friends,”
she said politely and dashed off.
“You all right?” Daniel asked as she joined her friends.
“Yes I’m fine, thank you,” she repeated for the tenth time that night. She glanced over at Jennifer, who was in a huddle with her female friends talking and staring over at Holly and Daniel.
“I have arrived!” a loud voice announced at the door. Holly turned around to see Jamie, the party animal, standing at the door with his arms held high in the air. “I have once again dressed in my penguin suit and I am ready to partaaay!” He did a little dance before joining the group, attracting stares from around the room. Just what he wanted. He made his way around their circle greeting the men with a handshake and the women with a kiss on the cheek, sometimes
“hilariously” switching the gesture. He paused when he got to Holly and he glanced back and forth from Holly to Daniel a couple of times. He shook Daniel’s hand stiffly, pecked Holly on the cheek quickly as though she were diseased, and rushed off. Holly tried to swallow the lump in her throat angrily. That had been very rude.
His wife, Helen, smiled timidly over at Holly from across the other side of their circle but didn’t come over. Holly wasn’t surprised. It had obviously been too difficult for them to drive ten minutes down the road to visit Holly after Gerry died, so she would hardly expect Helen to take ten steps toward her to say hello. She ignored them and turned to talk to her real friends, the people who had supported her for the past year.
Holly was laughing at one of Sharon’s stories when she felt a light tapping on her shoulder. She turned around mid-laughter to face a very sad-looking Helen.
“Hi, Helen,” she said happily.
“How are you?” Helen said quietly, touching Holly gently on the arm.
“Oh I’m fine,” Holly nodded. “You should listen to this story, it’s very funny.” She smiled and continued to listen to Sharon.
Helen left her hand on Holly’s arm and eventually tapped her again after a few minutes. “I mean, how are you since Gerry . . .”
Holly gave up listening to Sharon.
“Since Gerry died, do you mean?” Holly understood that people sometimes felt awkward about these situations. Holly often did too, but she felt that if someone had brought the subject up themselves they could at least be adult enough to carry the conversation through properly.
Helen appeared to wince at Holly’s question. “Well yes, but I didn’t want to say . . .”
“It’s OK, Helen; I’ve accepted that that’s what happened.”
“Have you?”
“Of course I have,” Holly frowned.
“It’s just that I haven’t seen you for a very long time so I was beginning to get worried . . .”
Holly laughed. “Helen, I still live around the corner from you in the same house as before, my home phone number is still the same, as is my mobile number. If you were ever that worried about me I was never that difficult for you to find.”
“Oh yes, but I didn’t want to intrude . . .” She trailed off as if that were her explanation for not seeing Holly since the funeral.
“Friends don’t intrude, Helen,” Holly said politely, but she hoped she had gotten her message across.
Helen’s cheeks blushed slightly and Holly turned away to answer Sharon.
“Keep me a seat beside you, will you? I just need to run to the ladies again,” Sharon asked, doing a little dance on the spot.
“Again?” Denise blurted out. “You were just there five minutes ago!”
“Yes, well, this tends to happen when you have a seven-month-old baby pushing down on your bladder,” she explained before waddling off to the toilet.
“It’s not actually seven months old, though, is it?” Denise said, scrunching her face up.
“Technically it’s minus two months, because otherwise that would mean that the baby would be nine months old when he was born and then they would be celebrating his first birthday after only three months. And usually babies are walking by the time they’re one.”
Holly frowned at her. “Denise, why do you torment yourself with thoughts like that?”
Denise frowned and turned to Tom, “I’m right though, aren’t I, Tom?”
“Yes love,” he smiled sweetly at her.
“Chicken,” Holly teased Tom.
The bell was rung, signaling that it was time to take their places in the dining area and the crowds began to swarm in. Holly took her seat and placed her new handbag down on the chair beside her to reserve it for Sharon. Helen wandered over and pulled out the chair to sit down.
“Sorry Helen, but Sharon asked me to save this seat for her,” Holly explained politely.