Always You (13 page)

She fixed her eyes on the ferry and chewed slowly. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking.

‘I live alone in a flat overlooking the Yarra River,’ he offered.

She swallowed, kept her eyes fixed on the ferry. ‘And there I was thinking you’d found your happily ever after, and it was only me that’d made a mess of things.’ She turned her eyes on him, soft and sad. ‘But turns out we both did, didn’t we?’

Ian pulled up outside Ballyfergus Golf Club and sat in the car for a few moments, collecting his thoughts. The hot April sun beat down on the green, and on the brown faces and arms of the four golfers teeing off from the first hole. In the far distance, the deep blue sea met the Antrim coastline in a froth of inviting white surf. But Ian had much more important things on his mind than golf or frolicking in the waves. He got out of the car, slipped the car keys in the pocket of his suit jacket and went inside.

‘Ian,’ cooed Isabelle, wafting across the function room in a floaty blue dress, her matronly chest leading the way. When she reached Ian, she cupped her cool papery hands around his cheeks and squeezed, as if he was a boy of seven. ‘I’m so glad you could come.’

‘I wouldn’t have missed your seventieth for all the world,’ he laughed affectionately, realising that the reason he liked Isabelle so much was not because he’d known her all his life but because she reminded him of his mother.

‘It’s also a fundraiser for the mission in Natal,’ she said, removing her hands from his face and becoming serious. ‘I hope you’ve got your cheque book with you.’

‘Er, yes of course,’ he said and her face cracked into a smile, perfect white dentures on display. ‘Only joking, kid.’ She found his hands and squeezed them between her own firm grasp. Her blue eyes filled up with tears. ‘I’m just sorry that Evelyn can’t be here.’

He swallowed, Isabelle’s compassion making his throat feel tight and his eyes itch. ‘She’s sorry too. She sends all her love.’

‘How is she?’

‘Much the same.’

‘I’ll take a piece of birthday cake in to her tomorrow.’ She patted the back of his hand and let it go. Then she fixed a dazzling smile on her face and blinked her tear-glazed eyes. ‘But this is a party! Let’s not be sad. Evelyn wouldn’t want that.’ She pointed to a table groaning with food. ‘There’s loads to eat and we’re going to have some party games for the children later. Eric’s going to show a video of the mission. Molly and Lewis are here somewhere.’ Immediately he started scanning the room for Sarah.

But it was the children he saw first. Molly, looking so grown up in black leggings and a sparkling pink tunic; he felt an ache in his chest, a longing for her childhood that was, little-by-little, ebbing away. Soon her head would be full of boys and fashion and pop music. And there was Lewis, in a long-sleeved shirt, playing hide and seek with another little boy under the vast tablecloth that covered the buffet table. He crawled out on his hands and knees, and stood up.

‘Dad,’ he shrieked and ran across the room.

Ian braced himself for the impact and, when Lewis ran into him, he scooped him up in his arms, gave him a big hug and a kiss on the side of his head, before setting him back on his feet. Molly, who was much more subdued, came over and gave him a brief hug. ‘Hey, Dad, will you come to the school fair on Friday?’

He squeezed her shoulders. ‘Course I will, darling. It’s already in the diary. Where’s your Mum?’

‘Over there,’ said Molly pointing, ‘talking to Aunt Vi and Grandpa.’

She was watching them with a hesitant smile on her face. She looked so radiant, fragile even, in a yellow, fifties-style dress with a full skirt and fitted bodice and a little teal cardigan, the same colour as the flowers on the dress. He smiled back, and his palms started to sweat. Sarah blinked and looked away. Vi, standing beside Sarah with her hair scraped back into a tight bun and her usual dark attire, looked like the black widow.

He got himself a Coke from the bar, and stood and chatted with Isabelle’s husband, Eric. Since that day at Sarah’s house, when he’d admitted that he still had feelings for her, he’d thought of nothing but getting back with her. And the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it was what she wanted too, even if she wasn’t as sure of it yet as he was. They got on better now than they did when they were married. Didn’t the fact that she had never remarried speak for itself? He was certain they could rekindle the magic that had once sparked between them. Excusing himself, he strolled towards Sarah, where she stood by the buffet table chatting with her aunt. Close by, her father grazed at the food, bypassing the plate in his hand and popping morsels directly into his mouth. Ian approached, feigning interest in a platter of pink, curling ham – and waited for Vi to catch his eye.

It wasn’t long before she called out, ‘Oh, there you are, Ian,’giving him the opportunity he’d been waiting for to join the little group. She kissed his cheek and called out, ‘Look who’s here, David.’ David finished cramming a sausage roll into his mouth, came over and shook Ian’s hand vigorously, pastry crumbs falling from his lips to the floor.

‘Hi Ian,’ said Sarah and he tried to make eye contact with her but, frustratingly, she looked at the silver sandals on her pretty feet instead.

‘The Golf Club has put on a good spread,’ observed Vi, drawing his attention away from Sarah.

‘And all for a good cause,’ added David and patted his stomach. ‘You should have some of those sausage rolls before they get cold, Ian. Delicious.’

‘So how are you, Ian love?’ said Vi. ‘I feel like I haven’t seen you properly in ages. How’s Evelyn?’

At the mention of his mother’s name, Sarah’s head snapped up and she looked at him at last. They talked about Evelyn’s failing health for a while and then Ian turned to Sarah.

‘So, Sarah, are you going to the school fair on Friday? Molly tells me she’s on the nail-painting stall.’ He pulled a humorous face to show that he thought this a decidedly risky venture. Raquel had never quite forgiven Molly for the fuchsia pink nail polish stain in the middle of the landing carpet.

‘Eh … I plan to,’ she said and looked at her watch, before craning her neck to see past him. ‘I wonder where Becky is?’

‘She’s bringing someone, you know,’ said Vi, leaning towards Ian slightly, as if letting him in on some great secret.

‘Is she?’ he said pleasantly, wishing he and Sarah could be alone.

‘He a lecturer in biology at Queen’s,’ announced Vi, sounding impressed.

David made a sort of humming sound in the back of his throat and said grumpily, ‘Let’s just hope he’s a decent fellow and not some sort of long-haired weirdo who doesn’t know how to dress properly.’

Sarah laughed. ‘Oh, Dad, you don’t mean that, surely? Just because someone’s not in a suit and tie, it doesn’t make them a bad person.’

‘Well, you have to admit, Sarah, some of her former boyfriends left a bit to be desired,’ said Ian, perfectly at home talking about Becky whom he regarded as a lovely, but slightly wayward, younger sister.

‘Ian’s right. There’s a certain way to behave and those chaps didn’t know how to,’ said Dad firmly, balancing the plate on the edge of the buffet table.

‘Harry always dressed so well,’ chipped in Vi, referring to Ian’s father. ‘I don’t think I ever saw him without a jacket. Did you David?’

He nodded, the grumpiness replaced with a faraway look in his blue eyes. ‘In the police we used to call him Slick because he was always perfectly turned out.’

Ian smiled, glad to have the chance to talk about a father he had loved. He listened to David regale them with familiar tales of his and Harry’s days in the police, the basis of a friendship that had lasted until his father’s death. And then the conversation moved on to more recent times.

‘He was over the moon when Molly was born,’ smiled Vi. ‘He’d always wanted a grandchild.’

Ian looked at Sarah. ‘Do you remember the little wooden stool he made for her first birthday?’

‘Oh yes, she used to sit on it and watch TV,’ she said warmly, making eye contact with him again. He drank her gaze in, hanging on every word. ‘It’s in the loft still. I’m going to keep it for her till she’s grown.’

‘Do you remember how she burned her hand on the birthday candle at the party, the wee pet? She didn’t realise it was hot,’ laughed David and Ian was forced to tear his gaze away from Sarah.

‘Poor wee mite,’ said Aunt Vi. ‘I did warn you to be careful.’

Everyone let this comment pass unremarked and then Vi gave out a sigh of satisfaction and looked round the room happily. Lewis flew past in hot pursuit of another boy while, nearby, Molly bounced a pink-cheeked toddler in a white party dress on her hip. ‘Well, isn’t this just like old times, the four of us and the children all together?’

Sarah looked at her feet again and Ian’s heart soared. Vi was right. It
was
like old times when he and Sarah were still man and wife. He hoped that today would remind her of what they’d both lost in the divorce.

She looked at her watch again. ‘Becky said she’d be here by half two and it’s just gone three.’

‘You know what she’s like,’ said Ian, trying hard to keep the irritation out of his voice. ‘She’s late for everything.’ If only she would look at him, instead of craning to see Becky …

And then Molly appeared suddenly beside him, minus the toddler. ‘Where’s Raquel?’ she said, bringing him back to earth with a bump.

Everyone stared at him and his heart sank into his shoes. He ran his tongue over his lips. How could he tell them what Raquel had said to him before he’d left the house: ‘Nobody has a party in the middle of the day, not a half decent one anyway, and you know I can’t stand those churchy people. They’re so boring.’

She meant people like him. He scowled. It hadn’t always been like that. At first, she’d been happy to accompany him to Sunday church where she’d hung on to his arm possessively, her figure emphasised by a tight skirt, a cocky little veiled pillbox hat perched on her head. And his chest had swelled with pride when he saw how the men, with their frumpy wives by their side, had stared at her.

But she no longer accompanied him to church, and she’d started drinking again and he’d long ago given up on the idea of converting her to Christianity. He now wondered if, in stating her objection to sexual intimacy before marriage, she had simply been mirroring his beliefs. She was certainly no virgin. Raquel was all about sexuality and titillation but these pleasures, he’d discovered, were passing ones. As his sexual fervour waned, the stark reality of their incompatibility became ever more painfully clear. The idea of spending the rest of his days with her was inconceivable.

‘Is she working today?’ said Vi, breaking into his thoughts.

‘Er, yes,’ he said, though he’d left her at home painting her nails fluorescent pink and watching reruns of
Coronation Street
.

‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ said Sarah and he looked at her oddly, wondering for whose benefit she was saying this. Sarah had always seemed indifferent to Raquel, slightly hostile even.

‘That’s not what she told me,’ said Molly. Ian felt his face flush red though, thankfully, everyone stared at Molly. ‘She told me she didn’t like Isabelle.’

Vi gazed at Molly for a few seconds, raised her eyebrows and said, ‘David, be a dear and hand round the plates, will you?’

‘You must’ve misheard her, Molly,’ said Ian, more loudly than was necessary.

‘No I didn’t. She …’

‘Leave it now,’ whispered Vi, grabbing Molly’s arm, and then, in her normal voice, ‘Come and see the cake, Molly. It’s in the shape of India.’

‘Why India?’

‘Because that’s where Natal is, dear,’ replied Vi as she propelled Molly by the elbow into the crowd.

David wandered off in search of more food.

At last he was alone with Sarah.

Sandwiched between Ian and the buffet table, Sarah held a plate, loaded with sandwiches, a mini-quiche and a dollop of potato salad, in front of her chest like a barricade. In the other hand she gripped a fork like a spear. For the last few months Ian had been behaving decidedly oddly and today he seemed determined to engage her in conversation when she had no desire to speak to him. Her last proper conversation with him, that night in her house, had left her feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

‘So, do you think I should let her paint my nails?’ mumbled Ian, affording Sarah a clear view of mangled egg sandwich on his tongue.

‘Huh?’ said Sarah, looking away. His habit of speaking with his mouth full had always annoyed her.

He washed the sandwich down with a swig of Coke. ‘Molly. Do you think I should let her paint my nails?’

‘If you like,’ she said indifferently, standing on tiptoes to look over his shoulder for Becky. She had so much to tell her about Cahal. How she’d followed him out of the office that day and barely managed to keep up with him until he’d reached The Big Fish and finally come to rest on a bench. She didn’t know where she’d found the courage to approach him but she was glad that she had.

The knowledge that his marriage had failed too made her feel less of a failure. And she’d been secretly pleased.

They’d parted on amicable terms and she no longer spent every moment in work on edge, fearful that she’d bump into him. She’d proved to herself that she could be civil to him, that she could mask the unsettling effect he had on her, at least to the outside world. Now all she had to do was get through the next six months.

‘Sarah? Did you hear a word I said?’ said Ian’s voice.

‘Sorry, what was that?’ She nibbled at a salmon and cream cheese sandwich, and tried to look interested.

‘I asked you how Molly got on at school this week. Has there been any more bullying?’

She chewed and swallowed. ‘Not as far as I know. Since my meeting with the head teacher, things seem to have settled down.’

‘I think it would carry more impact if I went with you to the school next time.’

She smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks, Ian. But so far, so good. The school have spoken to the girl involved – and her parents. We’ll know soon enough if there’s any more trouble.’

‘Good.’

She placed the cannibalised sandwich on the plate and scanned the faces in the room but all she could see was Cahal’s eyes, the same colour as the flowers on her dress, and the dimple in his cheek.

‘So I was thinking,’ said Ian, as Sarah looked around the room, wishing that one of the kids would come and rescue her from Ian. Where were they when she needed them? Nervously, she took a bite out of the sandwich.