Between The Sheets (15 page)
'I told him that,' Terry agreed. 'But he's more money than sense.'
He made a face. 'So how much have you won?'
Terry looked up at the TV screen in the corner. 'Seven euros and fifty cent!'
He raised an eyebrow. 'I see. So are you going to put it all on the next race?'
'Are you mad?' Terry looked scandalized and leaned across him to talk to their neighbour. 'I told you he'd more money than sense. No, I'm going to put fifty cent on Runaway Lad and Ballydun.'
Gus looked at his programme. 'Five and six again, eh? So that's your strategy.' He nudged the man beside him. 'Any tips?'
The man tapped his nose. 'Number one.'
Gus stood up. 'Right, so. Number one it is. Would you like me to collect your winnings and put on your bet?' he asked Terry.
'You won't do a runner with my winnings, will you?' she asked, suspiciously.
'As if!'
'Go on, then.'
Terry won the next two races and in the third, Gus finally had a winner. 'Yes!' He punched the air.
His neighbour shook his head. 'Ah, lad, sure he was the favourite. You'll be lucky to get your money back.'
'What?' Gus pretended outrage.
Terry laughed. 'You're not very good at this, are you?'
'No, but you are. Now I know why you brought me here. You just wanted to feel superior.'
'I don't need to bring you racing to do that,' she retorted.
Gus sighed. 'True.'
That was his only win for the night and when the last race finished, he tore up his tickets with an exaggerated sigh. 'Well, I'm glad that's over. I'd be broke otherwise.'
'You got greedy. Let me go and collect my winnings and then we can go.' Minutes later Terry was back, brandishing another eight euros. 'Dinner's on me,' she told him. 'There's a good chipper just down the road.'
He shook his head solemnly. 'I wouldn't dream of eating into your winnings. Dinner's on me. There's a nice place about a ten-minute walk from here if you're up for it.'
Her eyes met his. 'I'm up for it.'
Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in a crowded Filipino restaurant called Bahay Kubo, studying menus. 'I recommend the curry,' Gus said.
'Me too.'
He looked up to see that she was laughing at him. 'Sorry, am I being very pretentious?'
'Just a little.'
'I forgot you were a local. Do you come here often?'
'Now there's an original question.'
He groaned. 'Do you have a smart answer for everything?'
She shook her head. 'I'm sorry. It's just you're such good company I keep forgetting that I hardly know you. I'm not watching my every word like I usually do on a first date.'
'I'm not either,' he admitted, surprised. 'And I was determined to be guarded, given your line of work.'
'That's understandable, but then, we haven't had a chance to talk much about ourselves at all; we've been too busy gambling.'
'And having fun,' he said quietly.
She smiled. 'That too.'
'Is that what this is, by the way?' he asked later, as they strolled back to her apartment. 'A first date?'
She stopped and turned to face him. 'You tell me. Are you in a position to be dating?'
'I'm separated, and that doesn't look like it's about to change. So, yes, I suppose I am.'
Terry raised her eyebrows. 'You're such a romantic.'
'Sorry.' He looked shamefaced. 'I just want to be straight with you.'
'Good.'
'So, to that end, can I say that I would very much like to kiss you?'
Terry's eyes twinkled as she moved closer. 'Well, get on with it, then.'
Gus whistled as he walked back into town. He felt like a completely different man to the one who'd left the hotel earlier, happier than he had been in a long time. Terry hadn't invited him in for coffee or anything else and he was glad of that. Although that last kiss had left him wanting more. He should feel guilty, but he didn't. Dana had found someone new, why shouldn't he? Still, he reminded himself, he was vulnerable and he should take things slowly. His ego and heart had taken quite a battering. Terry had happened along at just the right time and the fact that she was a lot younger — he guessed her to be in her mid-twenties — was flattering.
It helped him deal with the fact that Dana was sleeping with another man — or men. For all he knew she was bringing home a different one every night. She had left two phone messages for him since he'd slammed out of the house yesterday morning but he'd ignored them; he wasn't ready to listen to her lies. Tom had shown him the piece in the paper. There was a photo of Dana with
that
man getting out of a taxi. The piece underneath it read:
Author Dana De Lacey is getting on with her life but, a close friend confided, she is not looking for a replacement for handsome architect Gus Johnson. 'Dana has lots of friends and they have been helping her get over her marital breakdown. But there is no one special at the moment.' Dana is photographed with a friend, coming home after a night's clubbing.
But Gus hadn't believed it for an instant. He had no doubt that she'd slept with that bastard; he had seen the look of panic and guilt in her eyes and the distinct challenge in the eyes of the other man. It hurt, of course it did. Tonight, though, the pain wasn't as bad. For the first time he was able to imagine a future without Dana. Tomorrow, he decided, he would start looking for a flat. He'd also call Terry and thank her for tonight. And then — well, then he'd just wait and see.
'I know that voice, I'm sure I do,' Walter Grimes drawled.
Dana covered the mouthpiece with her hand. 'This could take a while,' she told Judy.
'I'll go and shower, so.'
'Wally—' Dana started.
'No, really don't tell me. I'm very good with voices. I'm sure it will come to me — eventually.'
'Wally, I'm sorry, okay? I just wasn't ready to talk to people.'
'People!' he said, his voice filled with disgust. 'I'm not people!'
She sighed. 'No, of course you're not. But though you're a friend — and a good one — you're also my agent.'
'The same guy who's been fighting to keep you employed,' he pointed out.
'I know that and I'm grateful,' she said humbly. 'Am I forgiven?'
'Of course you are, darling! So, tell me all.'
'Sorry?'
'I believe there's a new man in your life.'
'No there isn't. I just had a very drunken one-night stand.'
'Oh, well, that's good too. Tell me about him.'
'I'm sure you already know everything there is to know,' Dana said shrewdly.
He chuckled. Tan may have mentioned something.'
'And sent you the press cuttings?'
'Them too. Good-looking guy, although not quite as handsome as your husband.'
Tan did a great job — I don't know how. Even I'm beginning to think I'm innocent. Gus, however, doesn't appear to be fooled.'
'Haven't you heard from him?'
'Not a word,' she said glumly. She'd tried to contact him but there had been no response. He obviously believed the evidence of his own eyes rather than the story printed in the newspaper, but then, he was an intelligent man. She felt a sense of pride and admiration that he wasn't taken in so easily but sad that it looked like she'd totally screwed up any chance of getting him back.
'He's a proud man,' Wally said, echoing her thoughts.
'He is,' Dana agreed. 'And I'm devastated that I've lost him. But I need to get on with my life now. I'm going to forget about men for a while and get stuck into my writing.'
'Oh, Dana, I'm so proud of you.' Walter's voice wavered with emotion. 'This book will be your best yet, I just know it.'
Dana didn't share her agent's optimism but he didn't need to hear that right now. 'I've got to go now. But, I promise, from now on, I'll keep in touch.'
'Make sure you do. Goodbye, my darling. Write well.'
When she'd hung up, Dana went in search of Judy. Her friend had ended up staying another three days, much to her husband's surprise. Judy had rather enjoyed his reaction.
'He won't be taking me for granted for a while,' she'd said with satisfaction.
'Ready to go?' Dana asked now, as Judy came down the stairs.
'All set.'
'You could stay on for the weekend,' Dana wheedled. 'We could do some more clubbing.'
'No, darling, sorry. If it was just Phil, I'd stay like a shot. But I'm missing the girls.'
'I understand. Just come back again soon.' Dana enveloped her in a tight hug. "Thank you so much for everything.'
'Thank you for a very exciting three days!' Judy laughed. 'Are you going to be okay?'
'I'm going to be writing so much that there'll be smoke coming from my laptop,' Dana promised. 'Good for you.' Judy hugged her again.
After Judy had left, Dana went straight into her office and sat down at the desk. She switched on her laptop and opened the
The Mile High Club
file. After staring at it for a moment, she closed it again and opened a new file. Then she began to write.
It was probably the day of my twelfth birthday when I first realized that Daddy didn't treat my mother very well. I had just come downstairs, dressed in the red velvet dress that we had bought the previous weekend on our trip to Dublin, and his face lit up when he saw me. 'Look at you! You must be a princess, for only a little princess could look so pretty and carry herself so well.'
I remember blushing even though I was used to Daddy's elaborate and lavish compliments. I ran into his open arms feeling treasured and special.
'Is that what you're wearing?' he said over my shoulder, his tone now clipped and cold.
'I can change, if you don't think it's suitable,' my mother responded quietly.
I remember she was wearing a simple navy linen suit and I thought she looked pretty but sad.
'There's no time for that now,' my father snapped. "We're due at the restaurant in fifteen minutes. Where the hell is Edmund?'
My brother, looking awkward and uncomfortable in a jacket and tie, dragged his gawky, teenage body down the stairs.
My father's sigh was eloquent. 'I suppose you'll have to do.' He turned to me and held out his arm. 'Come, my princess. Your carriage awaits.'
We went out to his large, old Mercedes and he held the front passenger door open for me before walking around and getting into the driver's seat. Mother locked the front door before scrambling into the back seat beside Edmund.
'Would you like to sit here, Mother?' I asked, for the first time struck that it seemed wrong and slightly subservient that she should always be expected to sit in the back.
'She's fine where she is,' my father said curtly as he guided the old car down the long driveway.
'I'm fine, Dana.' My mother's hand was on my shoulder in a gesture of gratitude. But I felt that it was also a warning. Don't make trouble, she was telling me. Don't make him cross.
Dana flopped back in her seat, feeling drained and emotional. This was so different to her usual work but maybe that's what was needed to get her back into the saddle. She'd just write a few more pages and then she'd get stuck into
The Mile High Club.
First, she needed a drink. In the kitchen, however, she discovered she and Judy had finished the white wine. She went to the drinks cupboard — there was sure to be a bottle of red somewhere — but no, nothing. The only thing she could find that held any attraction was a bottle of cognac. She smiled slightly as she poured a large measure into a crystal balloon. The last time she'd had this stuff, was the night she spent with Ryan.
Back in her office, she opened the doors to the darkened garden and let in the cool night air. Settling back in her chair she cradled the glass in her hands and sighed. She felt guilty about her adulterous behaviour — she had never even looked at another man before. But, under the circumstances, was it any surprise that she had fallen for Ryan's charm? He had got her at a weak moment. And because he was a stranger, she'd talked to him in a way that she normally never would. It had been a case of right time, right place. Had it been like that for Gus and that girl?
Turning back to her laptop, Dana set down her drink and got back to work.
It was a birthday much like the others. We always went to
the poshest restaurant in Wexford town and Father ordered for all of us. His only concession to the fact that it was a birthday celebration and that we were just children was to allow us chips, or
pommes frites
as he would say, instead of the usual mashed potatoes. He had always insisted that we eat 'proper' food and when we were small he'd even objected to our mother cutting up our meat for us.
The concept of inviting my friends over for a birthday tea with cake and ice cream was inconceivable to him. The O'Carrolls were above such juvenile behaviour. The less his children were exposed to their school friends, the happier he was.
As the waiters gathered around to sing 'Happy Birth-day' to me and I blew out the candles on the chocolate gateau, Father produced my present with a flourish. I smiled politely and took it, knowing that it would be yet another book. Thankfully my mother had already presented me with her own offering — a delicate silver bracelet that had been her mother's. I fingered it now as the waiter cut and served the cake.
'Well, come on, then. Open it!' my father said, his eyes full of excitement.
Smiling at him, I carefully unwrapped the expensively shop-wrapped book. Inside was a leather-bound copy of
Wuthering Heights.
'I know it's a bit advanced for your age,' he said hurriedly. 'But you're such an avid reader and way ahead of your class. I think you'll be well able for it.'
'Thank you, Daddy. It's great.' I stood up so that I could reach over and kiss his cheek.
He flushed, waving away my affection. 'Oh, it's nothing, princess, nothing. Although,' his eyes slid to the bracelet on my wrist, 'slightly more useful than that little trinket.'
I bristled at his criticism of my pretty bracelet and, as I suddenly realized, of my mother. 'I love it,' I told him coldly, resuming my seat.
His shrug was indulgent. 'Well, you're a girl. Now -' he clicked his fingers for a waiter — 'a cognac and a cigar for me, and some tea for my wife.'
'Maybe she wou — wou — would li — li — like a cognac too,' Ed said, a mutinous look in his eye.
'What's that, Edmund? Sorry?' My father cupped a hand to his ear in an exaggerated manner. 'Could you say that again, didn't quite catch it. The English language is a beautiful thing, try not to abuse it.'
'Conall!' my mother hissed, her eyes flashing with uncharacteristic anger.
Ed slunk down in his chair and studied his plate.
Father eyed my mother coldly. 'Did you want to say something, my dear?'
She looked into his eyes for a moment, then shook her head and looked down.
My father smiled but I could see the irritation in his eyes. 'Now, where's that damn cognac?'
After that I was suddenly conscious of an atmosphere in my family that I hadn't noticed before. Ed's stammer, I realized, was at its worst when Daddy was in the room. Mother was happier and more fun when her husband
wasn't around. I asked Ed about it a few weeks later. We were in the sitting room. Daddy was safely in his study and my mother was working in the kitchen.
'On my birthday, Ed. Why did you say that to Daddy about Mummy having a cognac?'
He shrugged, his eyes on the Rubik's cube that was usually in his hands.
'Ed, please tell me,' I said impatiently.
'Because he-he-he never asks her what she wants. He just tells her.'
I was silent. Several examples of what he was saying sprang to mind. He was right. Why hadn't I noticed it? 'That's wrong, and I'll tell him so,' I stated, with all the bravery and innocence of the favourite child on the edge of puberty.
Ed's fingers stilled and he looked up. 'Stay out of it.'
'But, Ed, it's wrong,' I insisted.
'Dana, you're just a kid. Keep out of it. If you say anything you'll just make it worse for Mum.'
I opened my mouth to protest, but at that moment my mother called us to tea. Ed shot me a warning glance.
'Leave it, Dana.'
I nodded and obediently followed him out to the kitchen.
'You're very quiet,' my mother remarked as we sat at the table eating jam sandwiches. 'Is everything okay?'
I glanced briefly at Ed and then nodded. 'Fine, Mum.'
