City Woman (50 page)

‘Me too,’ Terry said, as he got into his car and waved at her. She waved back and watched him leave before going back into the house.

It was true what she’d said: telling people making it seem more final. Maybe he and Maggie weren’t behaving realistically, but at least they were talking and in agreement about not
hurting the kids. That was something, and he knew he had Maggie to thank for it. She had made him see reason when he’d been ranting and raving at her after he moved out. Maggie was a very
loyal woman, too. She’d never badmouth him in front of the kids, nor he her. And he knew she was terribly hurt that he had started up with Ria again. She had just as much excuse as he had for
being bitter. Now that their anger had faded, they weren’t getting on too badly, considering everything. He couldn’t but be pleased that her affair was over. He was only human, he told
himself, as he drove towards Mulligans of Poolbeg Street, where he had arranged to meet Ria and some of her friends for a drink.

To be honest, he was not in the humour for the pub. He’d come to realize that the yuppie lifestyle was not his scene any more. Parties and dinners in restaurants were all very nice
occasionally, but not every night of the week. It was Friday night and the place would be packed. Who ever would have thought that the idea of staying at home to watch the
Late Late Show
in front of the fire would actually seem like paradise.

With a deep sigh, Terry began the hunt for a parking spot.

Forty-Four

A blackbird on a fir tree just feet away from her sang his heart out, and Maggie paused in her writing to sit back and savour the beauty all around her. Nestled in a deep
hollow among the Wicklow hills, Johnson’s Caravan and Camping Park was a Shangri-La that was slowly spreading balm on her bruised and battered spirit. It was July, and the weather, which had
been overcast and dull, had suddenly turned glorious. The skies were azure, the trees verdant. In the field behind her mobile home, cows placidly chewed the cud, and rabbits, scampering and
scurrying along, were a source of constant delight to the children. They had settled down to the easygoing, almost unreal, way of holiday life, with the amazing facility children have for adapting
to new places and new situations.

Maggie turned her head and watched her three offspring playing with some other children from neighbouring mobiles. When she first arrived at the end of May, the site had been very quiet as most
of the other owners had schoolgoing children. At weekends the place would fill up and take on a holiday air, with the sound of children playing, and people cutting the grass on their own patches.
The pool and playground would echo to the cries of carefree children and Terry, true to his word, and to the great joy of the children, had come down from Dublin as often as he could.

On Sunday evenings, cars would be packed and families would depart, and Maggie down in her little nook in the inner field would have the place to herself again. After the hurly-burly of the
weekend the quiet of Monday mornings was bliss. Maggie found herself becoming much more relaxed as the days turned into weeks.

The first weekend that Terry had come down had been a bit awkward. It hadn’t been too bad when the children were still up. Excited at seeing their father, they had fought for the privilege
of showing him around. He had been taken on a guided tour of the site and shown the playground and the pool and the shop and the games-room. And, most important of all, the den they had built out
of grass and bushes over by the tennis-court.

After they went to bed, exhausted but happy that all was right in their little world, Terry and Maggie were alone together. Both felt awkward and uncomfortable and eventually Maggie said she was
exhausted, retired to the double bedroom and closed the door firmly behind her. It was strange knowing that Terry was outside, and she lay alone in the dark and cried unhappily. Adam was constantly
in her thoughts. She had written to him, a long loving letter, explaining that she realized she had hurt him and that she understood his anger. She told him she loved him dearly and always would,
but that it had been the best thing for everyone for them to end their relationship. She had heard nothing from him – another heartache to add to the others she was carrying. Knowing Terry
was back with Ria had really angered and distressed her, but she’d been angry with herself for her resentment, calling herself a dog in the manger. She had told Terry their marriage was over,
she had refused to end her affair with Adam when Terry had asked her, so it was totally unreasonable of her to be annoyed. Nevertheless, she really hated that woman.

Eventually, she heard Terry switch out the lights and get into his bed on the sofa. Only then did she sleep.

When he arrived, Terry asked her if she wanted to go up to Dublin, but Maggie decided against it. Dublin was the last place she wanted to be, and besides, it made the children very happy that
they had both their parents’ company. So for the rest of the weekend, they had put on the best face they could, and concentrated on giving their children a good time. All the same, Maggie was
relieved when Sunday evening came.

‘Will I come next weekend?’ Terry asked, as the children played outside on the grass. Maggie shrugged and told him it was up to himself.

‘I know it’s not very comfortable for us, but I’m just trying to do the right thing,’ he said a trifle forlornly, and she felt a pang of remorse. After all, the children
were ecstatic when they saw their daddy. She couldn’t be thinking of herself all the time – and she did have her whole precious week to herself.

‘Well, we survived this weekend. I don’t see why we shouldn’t do OK next time,’ she said evenly.

‘Look, if you’d rather I didn’t come down, just say so, Maggie.’

For one moment she was tempted to say yes, she’d rather he stayed away from her and the kids and just left her in peace in her private paradise. But she thought of the children’s
excitement when Terry’s Saab appeared over the crest of the hill, and she swallowed her resentment and said, as pleasantly as she could, ‘Come down by all means, Terry. The lads had a
ball, and that’s the main thing.’

The following weekend was somewhat less tense. Maggie had to admit that Terry was trying to make things less awkward between them, and they actually sat out on the veranda after the kids went to
bed on Friday night, chatting about inconsequential things over a bottle of red wine. They went to visit her parents on the Saturday. Her father and mother were looking forward to seeing their
son-in-law. Maggie took the children up to the farm twice a week as it was only a ten-minute drive from the site, but it was Terry who had suggested that he pay a visit, in case they began to
wonder why he hadn’t been to see them. They had acted out happy families perfectly, and Maggie had half-begun to think that all that had happened in the past few months was a bit of a dream.
Reality hit her once again back in the mobile as she closed the door to her bedroom and heard her husband preparing his made-up bed on the sofa.

As June wore on more people began to come to the site to stay, and by mid-July most of the mobiles were occupied. Her immediate neighbours, Yvonne and Donald, had two lovely little girls, Fiona
and Caitriona, who had become great pals with Mimi and Shona. There were three cousins of theirs two mobiles up, called Katherine, John and Jennifer. Michael and John had become bosom buddies and
the eight children played happily together, much to the satisfaction of their respective mothers.

Maggie got on well with Yvonne and her sister Helen, and they settled into a pattern of taking all the children together to the pool, Brittas Bay or into Arklow or up to the playground in
Redcross.

Because Shona and Caitriona were so close in age, Maggie and Yvonne often took them for a walk in their buggies while the older kids played on the site. Maggie enjoyed her walks. At first she
and Yvonne had been puffing and panting as they pushed the buggies up and down the hilly, leafy roads. But gradually, their fitness returned, and they walked briskly along to the church of Saint
Mary’s, which was set on a green patchwork hill about a mile from the caravan park. They would sit in the cool serenity of the pretty village church and enjoy the solitude for a few minutes
before attempting the steep hill up to the post-office.

Maggie loved that old-fashioned post-office-cum-shop that sold everything – from school uniforms to Mr Kipling’s apple pies. Every nook and cranny was packed with goods, and the
little shop was as well stocked as any department store. Needless to say, their offspring would demand a treat, and while the two little girls relished their chocolate Buttons Yvonne and Maggie
would each eat a juicy peach and tell each other that they weren’t going to eat junk and that they were definitely losing weight. They would walk home by the back road, enjoying the scents
and sounds and sights of the beautiful countryside.

At night, Helen would keep an eye on all the children while Maggie and Yvonne did a very fast walk to the church and back. Maggie got on well with Yvonne, a redhead like herself. She enjoyed the
company and was delighted with the exercise and the chance to be free of the children for the half-hour or so it took them to do the walk.

The days took on their own routine. Maggie would get the children dressed and fed, do her housework very rapidly and then while the children played, she would sit on her veranda and write for a
couple of hours. Then she would take them swimming in the pool. After lunch, if the day was fine, they would all pack into cars and head for the beach for the afternoon. After dinner and playtime,
Maggie and her neighbour had their walk. Then she would bath the trio and by eight o’clock, there wouldn’t be a sound out of the Ryan mobile. Sometimes Yvonne and Helen would come over
to her veranda, or she would sit with them, eating Pringles and peanuts and having a drink. Maggie was usually in bed by eleven. Occasionally she dropped in to Marian at her site on the coast, or
Marian dropped over to her. Marian was still torturing herself over her inadvertent remarks at the dinner party, even though Maggie tried to convince her that Terry would have found out about Adam
from someone else if not from her. In the end, she asked Marian not to refer to the matter any more. There was no use in crying over spilt milk.

At the weekends all the husbands would appear. Each family would do its own thing until the Monday, when it was usually just wives and children who stayed behind for the week.

It was a peaceful, easygoing existence, far different to the frenetic pace of her city life, and gradually Maggie found herself regaining some sense of equilibrium. Sitting on that lovely July
morning, listening to the blackbird’s song, Maggie felt peace envelop her. Whatever happened to her, at least this mobile was hers, and she promised herself that, no matter what, she would
bring her children to this glorious place every summer for as long as they wanted. Across the fields, she could make out the winding ribbon of road that led to Redcross. Tomorrow she would visit
her parents, she decided.

Helen and Yvonne had offered to take the children to the beach for the afternoon so she could concentrate on finishing the final chapter of
A Time to Decide
. Maggie was very happy with
her second novel. All that she had learned from Marcy during the editing of
City Woman
had stood her in good stead, and she felt it was a blooming great achievement that she had all but
completed a second novel despite all the traumas of her personal life.
City Woman
was on schedule for a November launch and would be in the shops before Christmas. When she got home at the
end of August she would be meeting with her publicist and sales and marketing director to plan the publicity itinerary. In spite of herself, she was becoming excited about it all again, and the
great thing was that she’d have her second novel to follow very quickly on the heels of the first.

After waving the gang off, Maggie spent a couple of very fruitful hours, editing what she had written. She was deeply engrossed in her manuscript when she heard the sound of a car coming down
the hill. It couldn’t be the lads back already, she thought in surprise, squinting against the sun. Then her heart leapt into her throat as she recognized Adam’s car.

Slowly she stood up, as his car drew to a halt. She watched him walk towards her with that panther-like lope that was such a part of him.

‘Hi,’ she said, unsure of what his reaction would be.

He threw his head back and looked up at her. ‘Hello, Maggie. Is it OK to come up and talk?’

‘Sure, come on.’

He took the steps on the veranda two at a time. ‘Where are your kids? I don’t want to make things awkward for you.’ He smiled that old familiar smile that made her suddenly
ridiculously happy. She’d never thought she’d see him again; she’d thought their bitter parting would be her last memory of him. At least he had come to talk.

‘They’re at the beach for the afternoon. Come in,’ she invited.

‘I’m sorry, Maggie, I behaved like a shit.’ Adam met her gaze squarely. ‘That letter you sent me, I’ll always treasure it,’ he said gently.

‘Oh Adam!’ Tears filled her eyes and she buried her face against his chest.

‘Don’t cry, Maggie. I can’t stand it when you cry,’ he murmured, holding her tightly.

‘I do love you, Adam,’ she sobbed. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I was thinking of my children.’

‘I know you were, I know,’ he soothed. ‘And you were right. I was angry and I was hurt but that didn’t last for long. I could never be angry with you for long, Maggie.
You know that.’ He smiled down at her and brushed the tears gently from her cheeks with the back of his hand.

‘I’m going away, Maggie, I’ve signed another contract for the UK. I just wanted to come and apologize for the way I treated you. I want us to be friends.’

‘Oh yes, Adam, we’ll always be friends. Always,’ she said fiercely, hugging him to her tightly. ‘I’m so happy you came, I’ve reproached myself over and over
for what I did to you. It killed me to think that we’d parted on such bad terms.’ She drew a long shuddering breath.