Pack Up the Moon by Anna McPartlin

Author:Anna McPartlin
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780141903347
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2015-08-13T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

The Sound of Music, Plastic Tits and Bruce Willis

It was coming up to Christmas and I was dreading it. I had to look forward to at least three Christmas parties, which I was being forced to attend, battling to get Christmas presents, crowds, wrapping, extending my Visa credit, “Jingle Bells”, queuing in the post office for four hours, marking Christmas tests and Wham’s bloody “Last Christmas” on the radio every five minutes, culminating with Christmas Day spent with my parents fighting over the remote. At least Noel was coming home. The rest of it was almost worth it. I was wrapping presents when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Emma, crackle, crackle …”

“Hello?” Crackle, crackle …

I shook the phone, something I always did when I had a bad line. It never helped, but it felt like I was doing something.

“Emma, crackle, crackle. It’s me, Noel.”

“Noel, is that you?” Crackle, buzz, crackle.

“The line is really crackle, crackle, crackle …”

“Noel, oh my God! Where are you calling from? It’s so good to hear your voice!” Buzz. “Damn this line.”

“Goa buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”

“Are you OK?” Crackle, crackle, crackle. “When are you coming home?”

“Em, I’m not. Crackle, crackle, crackle … Tell crackle, crackle that crackle, crackle. Sorry. I’d crackle to but I’ll call on crackle day.

“What?” Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. “You’re not coming home?” My heart sank.

“I crackle time crackle love you crackle I’m crackle.”

“You’re what?”

“Fine!”

“I love you too!” I shouted.

The line went dead.

“Fuck!”

How was I going to break this to the parents?

Oh Noel, please come home!

I was upset then pissed off, then really pissed off. He had called me with the bad news so that I was the one who had to break it to our parents. He was doing God knows what in Goa and I was left on the receiving end of their wrath.

That’s like something I’d do.

I decided to get it out of the way as soon as possible. I fixed myself a hot port and dialled home.

Bloody Christmas.

* * *

There was one bright side to the season. Clo, Tom, Seán and I were heading down to Kerry to spend New Year’s Eve with Anne and Richard and I was really looking forward to that. I missed them and I couldn’t wait to see their place and to get out of Dublin. I was excited so I planned to grin and bear the rest of it. That was the plan – the reality was somewhat different.

Tom ran his own graphic design company, which meant that he threw a company Christmas party. Clodagh attempted to entice us to attend.

“It’ll be great,” she said.

I didn’t want to go and complained loudly. She told me to shut up. It had been over a month since Paris and as soon as we returned to Dublin the old unsocial me had taken up residence once more. She was fed up of it.

Seán didn’t complain – he was in party mood. He’d met some New Yorker who was working with the magazine for two months. She was an executive type, blonde hair, tall and big tits.

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