City Woman (48 page)

‘Can I buy Daddy something with some of the money?’ Michael asked from a position immediately behind her left ear.

‘I’ve kept him some popcorn,’ Mimi announced proudly.

‘Yes, you can buy your daddy something. We’ll stop at the shop in the village. And you’re a kind girl, Mimi, to keep some popcorn for your daddy.’ Maggie eyed her
children in her rearview mirror, noting their proud smiles at her praise. God bless their innocence, she thought with a pang, as she turned left off the Navan Road towards home.

Forty-Two

‘Why don’t you move in with me?’ Ria Kirby suggested, leaning across the table to rub his hand seductively.

Terry sighed and shook his head. ‘What about the kids? It’s not that simple, Ria.’

‘Of course it is!’ the curvaceous black-eyed woman retorted. ‘She’s having an affair; she doesn’t love you; you don’t love her. There’s no point in
being miserable. You can always arrange to spend time with the children.’

Terry stood up from the table and helped his companion on with her coat. ‘I’ll see, Ria; I’ll be in touch. I’d better get back to the office.’

‘Spend the night with me?’ she invited. ‘It makes no difference now whether you go home or not. Come on, it’s Friday. You won’t have to get up for work in the
morning and I’ll pamper you and bring you breakfast in bed.’ Ria smiled suggestively.

Terry’s eyes brightened. ‘Sounds like just what I need. You always
did
know how to look after a man, Ria,’ he said, smiling at her.

‘Remember how I always liked to drink champagne in the bath?’ she murmured huskily. ‘I have a bottle at home.’

‘You haven’t changed a bit,’ Terry declared admiringly. ‘I’d really better go, Ria. I’ll phone you.’ He held the door of the restaurant open for her and
walked her to her car.

‘Do that!’ She smiled sexily, showing a tantalizing few inches of plump thigh as she got into her Nissan Micra and zoomed out of the car-park.

Terry grinned. She was one fast woman in every sense, Miss Ria Kirby, and he had always been very attracted to her. She worked hard and she played hard and he was glad he’d phoned her and
invited her to lunch. It was nice to be appreciated and it was very rewarding to be still fancied by his ex-mistress.

Maggie wasn’t the only one who could play around, he thought grimly, as he sat into his Saab and headed back to the office.

He still found it hard to believe that his wife had actually slept with another man. He would never have considered her capable of infidelity. Terry had always thought that he could count on
Maggie’s total loyalty and commitment. A man having an affair was different – and he’d only got involved with Ria when Maggie was pregnant and not very interested in sex. As far
as he was concerned, it had just been a bit of a fling. But Maggie had not seen it like that at all. She had made a song and dance about commitment and trust and fidelity. And then, after all her
giving out? She upped and went and did the same thing herself.

It made his blood boil when she went on about the emotional support she got from this other bloke. Was she mad? As a man, he knew that the creep she was sleeping with was only enjoying a bit on
the side. ‘Emotional support, my hat,’ he muttered, driving around St Stephen’s Green. Who did she think she was fooling? She had done it to get back at him. He should have known,
of course. She’d lost weight and had her hair styled differently and sometimes seemed to have a glow about her when she came back from a so-called meeting with her editor. Terry had put it
down to the excitement about that novel of hers. She’d made a right fool of him. And then the cheek of her when he asked her if she was going to give the bloke up and she told him it was none
of his business. Her own husband, whom she was deceiving – and it was none of his business! By God, but those feminists had a lot to answer for, for putting notions into women’s heads.
There was many a woman who would be glad to have what Maggie had, he thought resentfully, pulling into the car-park behind the office. A lovely house, a generous husband, and three lovely kids.
Terry’s frown vanished as he thought of the children. This carry-on was not good for them. Only the other day, when he’d snapped the nose off Maggie, his little son had put his arms
around Terry’s neck and said anxiously, ‘Don’t be cross with Mammy, Daddy. It makes me feel funny in my tummy.’ Both of them had been horrified. Their one remaining bond was
the love they had for their children. Terry would do anything rather than cause them grief.

He might bring them to the zoo this weekend and make a fuss of them, he decided, as he sat behind his desk and eyed the file he had been working on with something less than enthusiasm. Maybe
Maggie would come too, and they could put aside their bad feelings and give the kids a good time. That was, if she didn’t have a date with lover-boy, he thought bitterly. If she’d said
she was going to end the affair he might have forgiven her eventually, but knowing that she was still seeing the bastard just stuck in his craw. He’d never have dreamed that they would end up
like this, he thought miserably, as he turned his attention to a letter from the tax inspector saying that his client owed eighty thousand pounds in unpaid taxes. His client was in a fine bloody
mess, and his marriage had broken up too. Life was a bitch, Terry thought, as he bent his head and tried to make sense of the figures in front of him.

‘You’re in great humour, Ria,’ Joan, one of the girls in the office, declared, listening to her supervisor humming the Roy Orbison hit, ‘Anything You
Want You Got It’.

‘I’m always in great humour,’ Ria retorted. ‘I’m gasping for a cup of coffee. I’m going up to the canteen. If a phone call comes for me, make sure to put it
through.’

‘There’s obviously a new man on the scene,’ said Anne, the typist, with a grin. ‘I know the signs.’

‘Did you hear her: “I’m always in great humour.” She’s hilarious! No wonder she’s still on the shelf at forty – no man would put up with her
moods,’ Joan snorted. ‘She’s not the only one who’s “gasping for a cup of coffee”. And she’s only come back from her lunch!’

‘That’s one of the perks of being a supervisor: the more you earn the less you work,’ agreed Anne. ‘Maybe this new guy will whisk her up the aisle and she’ll take
her gratuity and leave us in peace.’

‘You may as well dream here as in bed,’ Joan said dryly. She’d seen Ria’s men come and go. Why should this one be any different?

Ria sipped her black coffee and smiled happily to herself. To think that Terry had called her and invited her to lunch! It had been a bolt from the blue, a very welcome bolt.
Of all the men she had ever dated, Terry Ryan was the one she had really fallen for. She had met him when she was out in Saudi in the eighties, and their subsequent affair had been the best time of
her life. When Terry had ended it, after they had come back to Dublin and his wife had caught them making love in the shower in their bedroom, Ria had been devastated. She had always secretly hoped
that one day he would leave Maggie for her. Now, after hearing the sorry saga of his wife’s affair, Ria couldn’t suppress the hope and excitement that bubbled inside her. She had been
thrilled to hear that Maggie was having an affair, although to tell the truth she’d never have thought that Miss Goody Twoshoes had it in her. It was obvious that Terry was disgusted about
it. Well, the more angry and disgusted the better. That would suit her purposes admirably. This time he wouldn’t be too eager to go back to his wife, and she’d make sure that he
wouldn’t want to. Oh yes! Ria thought happily, she could just visualize that gold ring on the third finger of her left hand.

Although she often claimed she would never wash a man’s socks and that being an independent woman was the only life for her, Ria knew well that if any man who was half-fanciable proposed
to her, she’d accept like a flash. Who’d want to work in the Civil Service for the rest of their life, for God’s sake? She thought Joan and Anne in the office were mad to be
working when they had husbands who could keep them. Imagine being able to stay at home all day and sleep in as long as you liked and then watch TV to your heart’s content. That’s what
she’d do if she was married. And then in the afternoon she’d dress, put on her make-up and make her husband take her out to dinner. Cooking was not Ria’s forte.

Please let him ring me, Ria sent up a fervent prayer to the heavens as she took out an emery board and began to shape her nails.

Maggie’s car wasn’t there, Terry noted glumly, as he drove into the drive. He was hungry – he hoped Josie had something nice for the dinner. Today was her day
to clean the house and take care of the kids while Maggie was off ‘having time to herself ’. There were no lights on in the front of the house. They must be all out in the kitchen at
the back. He let himself into the house, expecting to be leaped upon by his offspring, but all that greeted him was silence. No children, no Josie, no dinner. Nothing. The doorbell rang and Terry
opened up to find the girl from next door standing in his porch, holding a beautiful arrangement of peach roses.

‘These are for Mrs Ryan. The delivery man left them in our house because there was no answer here this afternoon,’ she informed him cheerfully, thrusting the flowers at him.
‘Bye, Mr Ryan,’ she smiled, and skipped off down the drive. There was no card with the flowers and suddenly a red rage engulfed Terry. That fucking fancy-man of hers was sending flowers
to his wife at their house! He flung the flowers across the hall, thundered up the stairs and into his bedroom. Throwing open drawers and wardrobes, he shoved clothes into a case. Maggie had the
nerve to say she wasn’t a doormat. Well, by God, neither was he! To hell with Maggie; he was going to go to a woman who had always appreciated him. Ria Kirby would never treat a man like
dirt. He ran back down the stairs, still fuming, and slammed the front door behind him.

Terry’s car wasn’t there, Maggie observed, as she brought the car to a halt outside the front door. She didn’t know whether she was glad or sorry. She was a
bit tired and was looking forward to getting the children to bed and sitting in front of the fire to watch the
Late Late Show
. The hall light was on, though, so Terry must have come home
and gone off again. Maybe he’d gone to get himself a Chinese takeaway, although she’d left him a hotpot ready to be popped in the microwave.

Opening the front door, she followed her children inside and stopped short when she saw the peach roses strewn across the hall. What the hell was going on, she thought in confusion.

‘Look at the lovely flowers, Mammy. Why are they on the floor?’ Mimi asked.

‘I don’t know, pet.’ Maggie bent down to pick them up, wondering who they were from and how they had got scattered all over the hall.

A minute later the doorbell rang, and she found her next-door neighbour on the step with a small white envelope in her hand. ‘Maggie, I sent Charlotte over with flowers that were delivered
for you when I saw Terry’s car in the drive. She dropped the card in the porch, so here you are. Have to fly! Jonathan is taking me out for a meal and I’m trying to get the gang to bed
before the babysitter comes.’

‘That’s exactly where mine are going this minute,’ said Maggie, taking the card. ‘Thanks, Stella.’ She grinned. Stella was always in a rush, no matter what she was
doing. Closing the front door, she slid the little white card out of the envelope and smiled as she saw the note from Devlin. ‘Sorry for pontificating,’ it said. But why had Terry flung
them around the hall? A thought struck her and her lips tightened. The idiot! He must have thought they were from Adam. Her heart sank like lead. So much for her plans for talking things over. If
that was the kind of humour he was in, she could forget it.

She gave the children scrambled eggs for tea and after an hour’s play got them ready for bed. When she noticed the light on in the master bedroom, Maggie went in to switch it off, and saw
the open drawers and wardrobe doors. A queer, sick, heavy feeling came over her. Terry must have taken some of his clothes. But where was he going? He must be leaving her and the children. Why
couldn’t he even have left a note? Sinking on to the bed, she put her head in her hands and wept. What a way for their marriage to end!

She half-expected him to phone to say he wouldn’t be home, but by the time the
Late Late Show
was over, she angrily accepted that he wasn’t going to call. He could have at
least had the guts to tell her to her face that he was leaving.

Maggie spent a restless night tossing and turning, before falling into a fitful sleep. She was giving the children their breakfast the following morning when the phone rang. Her heart began to
thud and she strove to keep her voice normal as she answered it.

The voice at the other end was not Terry’s but her eyes widened at what the man who spoke to her was saying.

‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘Yes, I’d be very interested, I’ll be in that neck of the woods this afternoon, so I’ll call – if that’s all
right,’ she said, and smiled as he agreed to the arrangement.

If Terry was making a fresh start, well, so was she, she decided, as she walked into the kitchen to finish her breakfast.

Forty-Three

‘You bought a mobile in Wicklow! Congratulations, Maggie.’ Adam gave her a hug. His eyes brightened. ‘Hey, you know what this means?’ He took her hands
in his. ‘I can take my holidays and spend them with you in the summer. We can be together for three weeks.’ Adam was all excited by the idea.

Maggie got up from the sofa and walked over to the window. There was an early-blooming cherry-blossom outside Adam’s sitting-room window and the buds were just opening. It was young and
fresh and pure, heralding the change of season and the arrival of spring. Usually this would have cheered Maggie enormously, but today she felt desperately sad as she turned to face her lover.

‘You can’t come down to the mobile, Adam,’ she said quietly. ‘The children will be there. I can’t see you in front of them.’

‘But Maggie!’ Adam protested. ‘Terry’s living with someone else. Why can’t you do the same?’