Page 147 of The Honeymoon Affair

Iseult

You have to take risks. We will only understand the miracle of life fully when we allow the unexpected to happen.

Paulo Coelho

Back in Dublin after the Waterford trip, my boss, Ivor, calls me into his office.

‘Congratulations,’ he says immediately. ‘You’ve been promoted.’

I look at him in astonishment. I’d applied for a more senior position before I went to the Caribbean, but upward mobility within the Civil Service can be slow and tortuous, and with everything else going on in my life I’d almost forgotten about my application. Or at least I’d deliberately pushed it to the back of my mind because I didn’t want to think I wasn’t getting it.

‘Oh my God! That’s great. Will I have my own team?’ I beam at him.

‘Not here,’ he says. ‘They’re moving you to the airport.’

‘There isn’t a chance of anything here, is there?’ I ask. ‘You know how much I love the port.’

‘Not immediately,’ he replies. ‘Of course you can apply for a transfer back here when a position at your level becomes available and we’ll be delighted to have you, but you should get the experience there too, Izzy. It’s good for your CV to move around a bit.’

He’s right. Like him, many of the more senior people at the port have come from other areas within Revenue and Customs. It took a while to get him up to speed on how things happened here. But he’s a good boss and he looks out for all the staff. It’ll take me time to get used to the airport. Besides, I like a challenge.

Nevertheless, I’m dazed when I go back to my desk.

‘What did Ivor want?’ asks Natasha as I sit down.

I tell her about my promotion and about the move to the airport.

‘You’ll love it,’ she says. ‘At least you won’t be standing in a force ten gale hoping an irate driver doesn’t mow you down.’

‘I’m excited, but I’ll miss being here.’

‘Don’t be daft.’ She grins at me. ‘You’ve got to climb the greasy pole, Izzy. We all do. Until we decide we want to give it all up and live the simple life.’

I think about the promotion all day. It’ll be some time before my transfer comes through, so I’ll be working with the gang for a while yet. But things will shift between us. They’ll know I’m going and I won’t feel part of the team any more. It’s the way it is. As I scoot back to Marino at the end of my shift, I also think about the impact moving to the airport will have on my personal life. The commute there from Riverside Lodge will be even worse than the commute to the port. I’m going to be spending half my life getting to and from work.

I know it’s highly unlikely, but I wonder if I could persuade Charles to move somewhere closer.

I dismiss the thought almost immediately. I couldn’t even ask him to consider leaving his beautiful home, especially as he’s totally committed to redecorating it and making it ours. (He’s actually been in touch with the interior designer I follow on Instagram. She’s coming to see us next week.)

As I park my scooter and let myself in the front door, I think that perhaps I should move to Terenure now rather than waiting for Mum and Dad to come home. My life is changing. It’s time for me to embrace that change and be positive about it.

I say this to Charles when I call over to him later that evening. I’ve brought a change of clothes for the morning, but I now keep a selection of cosmetics and other bits and pieces at Riverside Lodge so that staying over doesn’t seem like a major event any more. He’s delighted that I’m talking about moving in permanently, but is also taken aback when I tell him about my promotion and that it means working at the airport.

‘Congratulations,’ he says. ‘You deserve it. You certainly work hard enough. I honestly couldn’t cope with the shift work myself.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I bet you’re thinking about the commute,’ he says.

‘It did occur to me,’ I admit.

‘You do know that you don’t have to keep working?’ he says. ‘I mean, I know you love it, and I’m not asking you to stop, but it’s not essential.’

‘I’ve just been promoted,’ I point out. ‘It’s pretty essential to me, don’t you think?’

‘What about when we have children?’ he asks.

‘I was thinking that you’ll be a perfect stay-at-home father.’

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