‘You should’ve phoned me as soon as you got the email,’ Libby had said. ‘I’m so excited for you. What did it say?’
‘Never mind the email,’ Erin had cut in. ‘Tell me about this Lorcan fellah. I hear he was here at lunchtime and you didn’t even let me know! Kate told me after the lunch rush, but you were already gone. Spill the dirt, lady!’
‘And I hear you’ve been shopping for something to wear tomorrow. Do you need a second opinion?’ Libby had asked.
Both women were like overexcited puppy dogs, vying for her attention.
‘Yes,’ Erin had said. ‘I need to see this outfit. How about we go over to Libby’s flat and you can give us a fashion show.’
‘And tell us what the email said,’ Libby had pressed.
‘And about Lorcan,’ Erin had added.
Jo had known there was no way she was getting away from them without answering their questions, and showing them her suit, so she had simply nodded her agreement.
As she had walked to the back office to collect her bags, she’d realised that she felt excited. Very excited actually. Something was happening in her life. A few things, actually, and she didn’t have to be scared of it all. She could embrace it and trust faith to bring her where she needed to be.
That’s what Auntie Mags would tell her anyway.
So she’d managed to smile and pose as she’d walked out of Libby’s bedroom twenty minutes later to oohs and aahs from her friends.
‘That. Is. Stunning,’ Erin had said.
‘The colour!’ Libby had gushed. ‘It brings out your eyes, and your hair and you just look beautiful.’
‘I’d snog you,’ Erin had added. ‘You know, if I was that way inclined.’
‘Thanks. I think,’ Jo had replied. ‘I do love the suit. It was way more money than I wanted to spend, but I figured it was worth it.’
‘Oh, it totally was,’ Libby had agreed. ‘You’ll make an impression on Mr McLachlan for sure. Although, by the sounds of it, you already have. I’m so thrilled for you.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ Jo had said as she’d walked back to the bedroom to change out of her new suit. She’d called through the open door, ‘We don’t know what he wants to talk to me about. He might want to break bad news to my face.’
She’d heard both Erin and Libby let out a groan and stuck her head around the door.
Erin spoke first. ‘Jo, I love you very much. But he won’t want to break bad news to you. He’ll love it. And if he doesn’t love it, then he’s wrong. You have talent. I know that. Libby knows that. Everyone knows that. When are you going to start believing it?’
Jo was still asking herself that question as she rinsed her hair. Maybe it was time to just start believing in herself. She took in her reflection in the bathroom mirror and nodded. She was going to own her meeting with Ewan.
‘Jojo!’ Clara's voice rang out loud and clear.
Jo turned and walked back to her room.
‘If you are having the thing about writing the story tomorrow, that’s not good.’
‘No?’ Jo asked.
‘It’s Clara and Jojo night! Mammy goes out and me and you stay in and read books and have hot chocolate and cuddles. Who is going to look after me? I don’t want to be here on my own.’
Jo could see Clara's lip start to wobble. ‘Oh, sweetheart, you won’t be on your own. Mammy is going to stay home to look after you. You can still sleep in my bed and I won’t be late home. So we can have big cuddles. I promise!’ Jo took Clara’s hand in hers and gave it squeeze.
‘Are you sure?’ Clara asked, and Jo could feel that every muscle in her little body was tensing. ‘Because I don’t like being alone.’
‘Of course I’m sure, sweetheart. We’d never leave you alone. I promise.’ Jo’s heart cracked at the sad expression on Clara’s face, knowing that there were times when this beautiful little child in front of her had been left alone in the past – before she came to live with the Campbells permanently.
‘Promise with all your heart?’
‘I promise with all my heart. We’re friends forever, remember? Red hair, don’t care!’
Clara did her best to smile, but Jo could see she was unsettled and she wanted to make it all better as quickly as she could.
‘Tell you what,’ she said, ‘since I can’t be there tomorrow night, how about we have hot chocolate, just you and me, tonight?’
‘Are we allowed?’ Clara asked.
‘This time? Yes.’ Jo offered a reassuring smile, which seemed to placate Clara.
After they’d both had their drinks and Clara had fallen asleep much more content, Jo sat and watched her little sister sleeping. She had been through so much in her short years, and yet she trusted people. She was braver than Jo ever was and she embraced every day with enthusiasm, making new friends wherever she went. Clara allowed people into her life and into her heart in a way Jo didn’t any more. She had a lot to learn from the little girl curled up in her bed, she realised.
Although, actually, she felt she was already letting someone in, in the form of Lorcan. As she climbed into bed and lifted her book to read, her mind drifted off to how they had talked so easily all the way to Ivy Lane after their trip to the park.
When she left him at his grandad’s shop, she saw a new little twinkle in Harry’s eyes. Things were different now, she thought. She wasn’t just Jo from The Ivy Inn. She was Jo who was becoming friends with Lorcan. And Lorcan was one of Harry’s greatest treasures. In fact, it was even possible that Harry Gallagher loved Lorcan Gallagher more than he loved his shop, and that was saying something.
It was no secret that Harry would have had Lorcan beatified immediately if there was a way to do so. However, as the Pope was unlikely to accept bribes in the form of Jaffa Cakes close to their use-by date, she very much doubted that Saint Lorcan would be getting a free pass to the gates of heaven any time soon.
She wondered if Harry deemed her good enough for his precious Lorcan, then remembered the way he had smiled so brightly at her and then at his grandson. Nothing would make Harry happier than if Lorcan moved to Derry and found himself a lovely girl to marry. He’d be watching every single step of their burgeoning friendship closely. Maybe she should go and talk to Harry in the morning. Tell him not to be getting any notions. Tell him they were just friends and Lorcan was nursing a broken heart.
And Jo knew exactly what a broken heart felt like. It was a broken heart that had sent her running home from Spain, convinced she would never be happy again.
18
The Break-Up
Colm McCafferty was six foot three inches tall, played Gaelic football and had thighs of steel. He wore his dark hair cropped, and his face was permanently speckled with freckles and a light dash of sunburn. When he played GAA, his pale complexion would be replaced by a ruddy hue that stretched from the top of his shirt to the tips of his ears. The redness, stark against his Irish pallor, only served to make the blue of his eyes extra vibrant.
He smelled, most of the time, of tea-tree-scented shower gel, and he was never without a selection of bruises to show off as a mark of his footballing prowess.