City Lives (24 page)

Maggie guffawed. ‘Well, well, well. How the mighty have fallen.’

‘I thought you’d enjoy that, Maggie. You had a few run-ins with him, didn’t you?’

‘Didn’t everyone in the hospital?’ Maggie grinned.

Alma stayed on the phone for another half an hour, filling her in on all the news and gossip. The compound was a hotbed of intrigue and infidelities and always had been. Maggie was reminded of
how claustrophobic she’d found it all. It had been horrible when Terry had started his affair with Ria Kirby, when she’d been pregnant with the twins. Everyone on the compound had known
about it except her. She’d found out afterwards when she’d come back home to live and caught Terry and Ria making love in the shower one awful day soon after Ria had come back to
Ireland.

Alma loved that kind of gossip and carry-on. She could never get enough of it. It was because her life was empty, Maggie had sometimes thought, when the other woman was delighting in some new
scandal that rocked the unreal little expat world in the dry, dusty, arid country that would never be called home.

Alma seemed to be the woman who had everything. A tall, dark, handsome husband, who was wealthy and successful. Two children. Staff to take care of her every need. A very cosmopolitan lifestyle.
Yet she wasn’t happy. There was a restlessness about her that never left her. She was a real flirt too and had indulged in a few flings herself, Maggie remembered wryly.

It was all Sulaiman’s fault for not paying her enough attention, she’d told Maggie crossly. She was a woman who
needed
tender loving care.

She was a very selfish and demanding woman would have been another way of putting it. Maggie refrained from saying so. She often wondered how Sulaiman put up with her attention-seeking ways.
When Maggie looked at Alma she saw a woman who had never grown up emotionally.

Her own life might not be a bed of roses right now, but at least she accepted responsibility for it with some degree of maturity. Alma never faced her problems. She ran away from them and filled
her life with superficialities in an attempt to deny their existence.

Maggie sighed as she glanced at the clock. It was too late to attempt any writing for now. It was almost time to do the school run and give the children their dinner.

The phone rang again. Maggie scowled. Sometimes that damn instrument was the bane of her life.

‘Hello?’ She tried to keep the impatience out of her voice.

‘Maggie, howya, it’s Orla. Thank God I got you, I’ve been trying for ages. Would you mind picking the kids up from school, I’ve got delayed in town but I’ll be home
as quick as I can.’

Maggie’s heart sank. Orla Noonan, one of her neighbours, was a flaming great nuisance. She was always planting her kids on Maggie while she went off gadding about, enjoying herself.
‘As quick as I can’ could mean four hours later.

No! Maggie decided. Enough was enough. Orla had pulled this stunt once too often. She was fed up being used.

‘Sorry, Orla,’ she said crisply. ‘I’m afraid I can’t do it today, I’m going out.’

‘Oh God, the kids will be in a panic, what will I do?’ Orla fussed. ‘You couldn’t just wait for twenty minutes, Maggie? I’d really appreciate it, pet. I meant to be
home, but there was a huge queue in the bank and then I had to change Sean’s trousers in Marks & Spencers and you know the palaver that is. I went to the wrong place and queued for ages
and then I had to go upstairs to Customer Services and I had to queue for another twenty minutes. You know the way they go mad at the school if you don’t collect the kids on time.’ Orla
was not giving up that easily.

Maggie wavered. She knew what it was like queuing in banks and shops. Poor Sean and Katie would be waiting with anxious little faces for their mother to come and collect them. She was never on
time and they frequently had to wait in the school office under the disapproving stare of the secretary. When Orla eventually came rushing in, it would be with some convoluted rigmarole that was
blatantly untrue.

‘Orla, twenty minutes max, and I mean it,’ she said firmly, mad with herself for caving in.

‘Oh you’re a dote, Maggie. Thanks a million. I’ll see you soon,’ Orla trilled down the phone.

Maggie hung up, riddled with frustration. Why hadn’t she stuck to her guns? Typical of her. But then she thought of Orla’s two kids who were always being lumped from this one to
that, and knew why. She was soft, some would say too soft. But where children were concerned who could be soft enough?

At least her three always had the reassurance that she’d be there for them after school, not like that flibbertigibbet Noonan who should never have had children in the first place because
she hadn’t the slightest interest in looking after them.

Orla Noonan emerged from the phone box beside the lifts in the ILAC and smiled at her sister. ‘Everything’s grand. Maggie’s picking the kids up. Let’s
go and have a cup of tea, I’m parched. And I want to run into Hickeys to have a look at some material to make a flower girl’s dress for Katie. Tara’s asked her to be flower girl
at the wedding.’ She knew she’d promised Maggie she’d be home in twenty minutes, but a cup of tea would only take five and a quick browse through Hickeys another five. She’d
scorch home then. The traffic wouldn’t be too bad at this hour of the afternoon. Anyway Sean and Katie would be company for Michael and Shona if Maggie wanted to get a few pages written while
she was waiting. Orla justified the delay to herself with ease as she and her sister headed for the Kylemore Café.

An hour and a half later Maggie was sizzling with suppressed anger. Orla Noonan was a cow and a half. How dare she? How
dare
she treat Maggie with such contempt? Sean
and Katie were having high jinks out in the back garden with Michael and Shona. She’d taken pity on them after the first half an hour and made up a plateful of chicken and salad sandwiches
and, at Michael’s behest, a flask of Bovril.

‘We’re at base camp, Mam. We’re climbing Everest,’ he explained. ‘And it’s thirty degrees below freezing.’

It
was
a cold day, Maggie acknowledged, although not quite thirty below.

‘Would a few chocolate biscuits give you more heat and energy?’ She arched an eyebrow at him.

‘Sure would, Mam.’ He grinned. Maggie grinned back at him. He had such a fertile imagination. He was his mother’s son in that respect. She watched the children playing away at
the side of the wooden shed in an old tent that had seen better days. In their minds they
were
at the foot of the Himalayas, not stuck in the back of a large garden in the Dublin suburbs.
The sandwiches were given short shrift. She should have made a big hotpot, she thought, as she looked at Shona’s red nose and cheeks under her woollen cap. The day had turned bitterly cold,
wintry even, and the pale yellow November sun struggled to cast a faded light on the southern wall of the garden.

As the time ticked by, Maggie grew more angry by the second. Orla Noonan was a pig-ignorant selfish bitch and always had been, and this time Maggie was going to let her know in no uncertain
terms that she had been taken for a ride once too often. No wonder none of the neighbours in their cul-de-sac had a good word to say about her. She’d tried it on all of them.

If it wasn’t for the neighbours those poor children would never be fed and watered half the time. They were like little orphans sometimes as Orla skittered around the city entertaining
herself. Billy, the father, a hulking great lump of a bloke, was never at home either. He worked seven days a week. At least, he told Orla he did, Maggie thought wryly. Their marriage was about as
good as hers and Terry’s and that wasn’t saying much, she thought dispiritedly.

She glanced at the clock. Half three. Twenty minutes, my ass! Maggie scowled. Orla would arrive in her own good time with some outlandish excuse, as usual.

It was after four before Orla zoomed up the drive in her red Honda Civic and bounced breezily up to the front door.

‘Terribly sorry, Maggie, pet,’ she apologized profusely. ‘But you’ll never believe what happened. I was—’

‘You’re right, Orla. I
don’t
believe you,’ Maggie cut her off sharply. ‘You’ve taken advantage of me once too often, but you won’t do it again,
believe me. Go back out to your car and I’ll send the children out to you. And never,
ever
ask me to mind them again because the answer will be no.’

‘Oh now, hold on a minute, Maggie,’ Orla blustered, red-faced. ‘You’re being very unfair here. I do
indeed
have a genuine and legitimate reason for being late.
You see the car in front of me in the ILAC broke down and blocked—’

‘Out, Orla! You used that excuse three months ago to Judy next door. Just go. You’re nothing but a user. You should be ashamed of yourself.’ Maggie practically bundled the
other woman out the door, she was so annoyed.

‘There’s really no need for this—’

‘There
is
need. I’ve had it up to here with you,’ Maggie snapped viciously. ‘Into the car, Orla. I’ll send the kids out.’ She closed the door firmly
in her neighbour’s face. Orla was gobsmacked. Maggie didn’t care. Years and years of being used had just come to a head. Too many people were taking advantage of her good nature. Now
they could all go to hell. She’d had enough. She wouldn’t take it out on the kids, of course. If they’d been in the house she certainly wouldn’t have let them see the
altercation. She’d have taken Orla aside into another room. She was glad they were outside. It had been childishly satisfying to shut the door in Orla Noonan’s face.

‘Katie, Sean, get your school bags, your mammy is waiting for you in the car,’ she called out the back door.

‘Aw Mam, can they not stay for another while? We’re having a great game,’ Michael protested.

Four eager faces turned towards her hopefully.

‘No, Michael. I’m sorry, we’re going out.’ Maggie’s tone was firm and he knew better than to argue.

‘Where are we going, Mam?’ Shona asked excitedly. ‘I didn’t know that we are going out. Can Katie and Sean come with us?’

For God’s sake. I’ll murder them!
Maggie glared at her two.

‘No, I’m afraid not today. Now you and Michael go inside and wash your hands and brush your hair, quickly. Sean, Katie, hurry up and don’t keep Mammy waiting.’

Sean and Katie trooped disappointedly into the kitchen, followed by an equally disappointed Shona and Michael. Maggie sighed in irritation. Kids were never satisfied.

She opened the front door for them, relieved to see that Orla was sitting in the car. The other woman studiously ignored her as Katie and Sean opened the front passenger door and climbed into
the back seat. Maggie waved at the children as Orla revved the engine and drove out of the drive with considerable haste. Her house was at the entrance to their small cul-de-sac and no-one could go
in or out without Orla seeing them. Maggie would have to go out now. She’d said she was going out, not only to Orla but to the kids as well. There was no point in making a liar out of
herself. She’d be as bad as Orla. She had no dinner preparations done either. She was damned if after being out for the next hour she was going to come home to get dinner.

She picked up the phone and dialled Terry’s office.

‘Hi, it’s me. Will you get a chippie or a Chinese for yourself on the way home, I’m taking the kids over to Blanchardstown to get shoes and I’m going to take them to
MacDonald’s. I won’t be cooking dinner.’

‘A fat lot of good chips or Chinese are to me when I’m trying to lose a bit of weight, Maggie,’ Terry grumbled.

‘Well get a Weight Watchers ready-made in the supermarket then,’ Maggie snapped and slammed the phone down. The last thing she needed this day was Terry whinging. It was such a big
deal because he was on a diet. The whole world had to muck in and help!

She felt the tension in the back of her neck, and in her jaw. There was a dull throb at the side of her temple. The starting of that horrible hormoney headache that no painkiller would shift.
Her waistband felt too tight for her. She glanced at the calendar. Four days before her period. A good old dose of PMT to top off a disaster of a day. What more could she want?

The phone rang. She assumed it was Terry ready to give her a piece of his mind.

‘Hello,’ she barked.

‘Oh . . . Um . . . hello. Could I speak to Maggie Ryan please?’ a young female voice asked politely.

‘Speaking,’ she said in a more civil tone.

‘Um . . . hello, Maggie. My name is Miranda Quigley. I’m your new editor. I’m just phoning all my authors to introduce myself. Perhaps you could come over to the office some
day next week and we could have a chat.’

‘Oh . . . hello, er . . . Miranda. I’d like to meet you very much. I’d value your input, to be honest. I’m a bit blocked at the moment,’ Maggie confessed.

‘I haven’t had a chance yet to read the chunk of
Betrayal
you sent in. I’ve quite a few to catch up on,’ Miranda said brightly.

Maggie’s heart sank. This was the last thing she needed to hear. ‘Have you read any of my books?’ she asked hesitantly.

‘Um . . . actually no. But I will. Soon. Just keep writing, Maggie. We can cut anything that isn’t working,’ Miranda said airily.

‘What type of books have you edited before this?’ Maggie asked curiously. Miranda sounded so young to be an editor.

‘Er . . . well actually I was in sales and marketing before this, with Lakelands Press. Unfortunately they’ve gone to the wall. However I’ve read and commented on plenty of
manuscripts during my time there. This is my first time in editorial. I’m looking forward to it immensely.’

‘I see,’ Maggie said despondently. This was an absolute nightmare. She was being given a novice editor, untried, who’d never read any of her novels and who’d worked for a
publisher who’d folded. Maggie vaguely knew of Lakelands Press, a small outfit who hadn’t made any significant impact on the book trade although they plugged away and promised their
authors the moon.

‘Don’t worry about a thing, Maggie. We’ll get along fine.’ Miranda spoke with all the confidence of youth.