Happy Ever After (48 page)

Authors: Patricia Scanlan

BOOK: Happy Ever After

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Aimee yawned as she stood at the baggage carousel with Barry and Melissa, waiting for her luggage. She’d enjoyed her holiday and the feel of the sun on her limbs. It had been a relief to get out of wet and windy Ireland. And now they were back to miserable weather again. It had been cold walking down the jetway to the terminal, and it was cloudy and raining outside.

She’d done the family-holiday thing now, she thought with relief. She and Barry had even had sex one night, and she’d enjoyed it, because she hadn’t had it for ages. But now she wanted to get back to work. She wanted to have as much done as she possibly could before the baby was born. Hibernian Dreams would be up and running in the next couple of months as far as she was concerned.

She smiled at Melissa. Her daughter had a good tan, which took away that dreadful pallor she’d had before they came away. ‘Good holiday, wasn’t it?’

‘Yeah, it was great, Mom. Have to go to the loo, I’m bursting,’ she said. ‘Don’t forget: my case has a pink ribbon on it, if it comes before I get back.’

‘I know it,’ Aimee assured her.

‘Where’s she off to?’ Barry shouldered his way through the group waiting for their luggage to join her. He’d gone off to get a trolley.

‘The loo,’ Aimee said, peering along the carousel as the cases started arriving.

‘You don’t think she’s being sick, do you?’ Barry frowned.

‘No,’ Aimee said. ‘I thought she did fine on holidays.’

‘It’s hard to know. We’ll bring her to the doctor anyway. We need to be vigilant.’

‘OK,’ Aimee agreed, spotting her Louis Vuitton.

‘And you’ll have to go for your scan too,’ he reminded her.

‘For God’s sake, Barry, I know,’ she said irritably. ‘I’ll sort it next week. Let’s get out of the airport first.’

Could he just not leave her alone? Going for scans and hospital visits was a bloody nuisance; she wanted to leave it as long as she could. Did her husband not realize just how busy she was going to be? She scowled as she hauled her case off the carousel and dumped it on to the trolley with a lot more force than was necessary.

Melissa made herself quietly sick in the small cubicle. There was so much noise with hand-dryers and flushing loos, no one would hear her, she assured herself as she got rid of the unwelcome food. She was sure she had put on a ton of weight when she was away. It was time to get serious about getting it off again.

She emerged into the crowds milling around the toilets and made her way to the sink. It
had
been a good holiday, she reflected as she washed her hands and held them under a dryer. Her mom and dad had been like their old selves, and they’d even hugged one day. They’d been very watchful of what she ate, and she’d seen them looking at each other when she protested about eating dessert and starters. It was bad enough eating a main course.

A thought struck her: it was clear they were concerned about her, and it was as if they had joined forces again. If she kept them concerned about her weight, they’d be so focused on her they wouldn’t end up fighting and talk of divorce would fade away. That would be excellent, Melissa decided. It was a win-win situation. By controlling her weight she’d be keeping the family together. She couldn’t think of anything better. It was a challenge she would embrace eagerly, she decided, as she noticed with dismay how round and fat her cheeks had become the week she’d been away. The first thing she was going to do when she got home was weigh herself.

Barry’s phone beeped, and his brow furrowed as he looked at the message.

Can’t contact the bastard. Hasn’t been seen around the club in the last few weeks. Not looking good. Derek.

Bloody hell, thought Barry, a dark, turbulent tide of anxiety washing through his veins. SecureCo shares had plunged, there was talk of the company going under and Jeremy Farrell had gone to ground. Derek Holmes had sent him a text wondering if Barry knew of his whereabouts and explaining the reason why he and several club members were anxious to contact the elusive stockbroker. Barry hadn’t heard a peep from him. What a welcome home from his holidays.

But perhaps Jeremy was on holidays, too, and that was why no one could contact him; it wasn’t beyond the bounds of reason. People went abroad on holidays, he reassured himself silently. All would be well. Jeremy was too wily a fox to back something that was going to fail, even in these rocky economic times.

Barry watched his wife dumping her case on the trolley and sighed. Back to normal, he thought gloomily. The holiday had been a truce of sorts, but the battle of real life had just re-engaged, and it was disheartening. The south of France had been a pleasure. They had lazed around the hotel and pool, gone to Nice and Monte Carlo, read and swam and totally relaxed after the exhaustion of Disneyworld and shopping in Paris on hot August days.

Aimee hadn’t been as relaxed for months. They’d even had some decent sex, which was totally unexpected. It was as though by unspoken consent they’d left their problems at home and cocooned themselves in their Riviera bubble. But the minute they’d touched down in Dublin, the BlackBerry was out and she was all business again.

He glanced at his watch and yawned. Gone eleven thirty. Another three-quarters of an hour to get home. An air-traffic controllers’ strike had delayed them a couple of hours. Flying was a nightmare these days. It would be nice to sleep in his own bed, and at least he didn’t have to get up for work the next day. Coming home on a Friday was a good idea always.

He thought of Connie and wondered how she was and what she was doing. No doubt she was on a date with that man.
Don’t think about it
, he told himself as Aimee pointed out Melissa’s case and he grabbed it. Maybe he’d send her a text to say they were home, he mused as he waited for his own case to come around. A text couldn’t harm anyone, and he wanted Connie to know that he was thinking of her. She’d appreciate it, he assured himself as he took out his phone.

‘Are you sure this is what you want?’

‘Couldn’t think of anything else I’d like better,’ Connie said as she led Drew up the stairs. They’d gone out for a meal in a local restaurant and she’d invited him back for a drink. She thought she heard her mobile phone beep, but she didn’t care. It was probably one of those messages to tell her her inbox was full. She was always forgetting to delete her messages. Debbie and Bryan were painting their bedroom; her daughter would hardly be ringing her at this hour of the night.

Hand in hand, she and Drew walked into her bedroom. She was longing for him to make love to her. Now, finally, her life could be all about her and this wonderful new man who’d arrived into it like a precious gift from the universe. The rain was lashing down on to the Velux window, adding to the cosy feel of the darkened room, and they turned to each other eager for what was to come.

They were hungry for each other, their hands fumbling at buttons and zips before, freed from the encumbrances of clothes, they pressed against each other, hands sliding, caressing over bare skin. How lovely it was to have a man’s arms around her again. Connie sighed with pleasure as she kissed Drew’s neck and throat before finding his mouth again. The first time was fast, frenzied, and both cried out when release came, burying their faces into each other’s necks and gasping for breath.

‘I love a horny man,’ Connie smiled in the dark, tracing her fingers down the long length of his spine.

‘And I love a horny woman,’ Drew laughed, leaning up on his elbow to look down at her. ‘Sorry about the rush. It’s been a while.’

‘Don’t be. It was deeply, deeply satisfying,’ she purred. ‘I couldn’t have waited myself, it’s been a while for me too.’ She smiled, staring into his eyes. ‘I have to tell you something, though,’ she confessed. ‘Barry and I did it once before Debbie’s wedding. It was a one-off. You know the way things happen . . .’ She trailed off. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Why should I, Connie? Of course I don’t, as long as you won’t be doing it again,’ he teased. ‘Then I might have to go and shag Marianna.’ She laughed against his shoulder.

He bent his head and kissed her tenderly. ‘This time we’ll do it slow,’ he promised, sliding his hand along the curve of her waist to cup her breast.

‘Whatever you say,’ Connie murmured as the delicious quivers began again, and kissed him back with enthusiasm.

Later, entwined in each other’s arms, drifting off to sleep, Drew said drowsily, ‘I’m falling for you, you know that, don’t you?’

‘Right back at ya,’ Connie said sleepily, kissing his cheek as his arms tightened around her before she fell fast asleep, snuggled in against him.

A
CKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead.

1 Peter 1:6

For all the wonderful joys and gifts I’ve been given in my life, I give thanks. And for the gift of this book as always, I thank Jesus, Our Lady, Mother Meera, St Joseph, St Michael, St Anthony, the Holy Spirit, White Eagle, all my Angels and Saints and Guides, and my Beloved Mother, who is now with them.

To my much-loved family, who are always there in good times and bad and whom I love dearly – I am truly Blessed.

To all my friends, who continually offer love and support, but especially to Aidan Storey, who has the biggest heart and who minds me so well and makes me laugh. To Alil O’Shaughnessy, who counsels, consoles, listens to moans, and edits superbly! To Tony Kavanagh, one of the funniest, and most talented men I’ve ever met. To Deirdre Purcell, for the truly relaxing holidays. To Pam and Si Young, for all the loving, inspiring emails that lift my heart. To Cathy Kelly, a most dear and cherished friend who, with kind and generous Fiona O’Brien, helped me in a most wondrous way at a lovely ‘elbows on the table’ lunch. To Ann Barry, Anita Notaro and Claudia Carroll, always on ‘candle lighting’ duty; and to Breda Purdue and Ciara Considine, who’ve seen me through many ups and downs, as has Geraldine Ring, even though she’s always giving out to me! To Marian Lawlor, a wonderful friend and neighbour. And to Sylvia and John in Mi Capricho, who are kindness itself.

To Dr Peter Boylan, who listened and made such a huge difference to my quality of life – a caring physician, as well as a great gynaecologist. Thanks so much, I’m in your debt. I was told you were the best, and you are. And to Averil Priestman, who was always so warm and kind when I went for my appointments. To all in Unit Four in Holles St Hospital who took such good care of me. Huge thanks.

To the doctors, nurses and staff of the Cremore Clinic, who look after my family and me with such diligence and kindness.

To Dr Joseph Duggan and Trish, who take such care of my dad.

To dearest Francesca Liversidge, great friend and great editor who is always looking out for me, and to Jo Williamson, who is always reassuring no matter what the problem. It would take another book to thank all the team, in Editorial, Sales & Marketing, the Art Department . . . The list is endless but I really appreciate all you do, so to everyone in Transworld, Transworld Ireland and to Simon, Helen, Dec, and all in Gill Hess and Co, for all the hard work and constant support, mega thanks.

To Sarah Lutyens, dear friend and agent, who is so calming when I’m in a tizzy, and to Felicity, Jane and Daisy also, for their commitment and hard work.

To Edwin Higel and all my colleagues in New Island for their on-going commitment to Open Door. Onwards and upwards.

And finally, a very special thanks to all my dear readers who have bought my books down through the years. It’s hard to believe
City Girl
came out nineteen years ago. Thank you all so much for the support and many kind letters you’ve sent me. I hope you enjoy this one, and may your lives be as greatly Blessed as mine has been.

Patricia Scanlan was born in Dublin, where she still lives. Her books have sold worldwide and have been translated into many languages. Patricia is the series editor and a contributing author to the
Open Door
series. She also teaches creative writing to second-level students and is involved in Adult Literacy.

Find out more by visiting Patricia Scanlan on Facebook.

www.transworldireland.ie

www.
rbooks
.co.uk

Also by Patricia Scanlan

Apartment 3B

Finishing Touches

Foreign Affairs

Promises, Promises

Mirror Mirror

Francesca’s Party

Two for Joy

Double Wedding