Stand by Me (61 page)

Authors: Sheila O'Flanagan

Tags: #Fiction, #General

BOOK: Stand by Me

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And so he’d come home.

Even though home didn’t mean Atlantic View any more. He’d been horrified when he realised that his beautiful house had been put up for sale, and even more horrified when it had sold much more quickly than he’d expected. He’d been sure that Dominique would get some legal advice that would have allowed her to do a deal with the banks and keep the house. How was it, he wondered, that real criminals managed to hang on to property, while his wife has succeeded in losing theirs? There had been a quote from her in one of the online reports he’d read in which she’d said that she wouldn’t be contesting the bank’s application for possession of the house because she didn’t feel as though she was entitled to stay there any longer. He’d screamed at the computer monitor then and had thought about ringing her mobile to talk to her. But he couldn’t. He was still trying to access funds and was afraid that his call would be intercepted and that it would all go even further wrong. Besides, he wasn’t ready to talk to anyone and he didn’t want them to find out where he was. And he didn’t know how he could possibly explain to Dominique the thoughts that had raced through his head the night he’d come home late, bundled up his clothes and disappeared into the night.

But, so far, being at home had all been very different to what he’d expected. Naturally he knew both Dominique and Kelly would be angry, but he’d imagined that once they got over the shock of his return, they’d welcome him back. He knew that Dominique had always dreaded being on her own, and he couldn’t get over the independent streak that she seemed to have developed now.

It was almost as though she didn’t want him there. As though he wasn’t the most important person in her life any more, when she’d always told him that he was. Well, after Kelly, she’d laugh, but then Kelly is still only a kid and she needs me more than you. Sometimes Brendan had been envious of Dominique’s relationship with their daughter - it seemed to him a little unfair that they were so close now when in those early weeks he’d been the one to do everything for the baby and the one to keep it all together. Dominique was grateful for that, he knew. She said so regularly. She was thankful that he’d been there for her. So thankful that she’d forgiven him the indiscretion with Miss Valentine, as she’d called Laura Kingston. That affair had been brief and meaningless, and when Dominque had discovered the text message, he’d been horrified at the idea that he might lose everything. So he’d played ball ever since. Hadn’t stopped him from losing, of course, but at least he hadn’t lost it all to a vengeful wife.

He stopped thinking about the past and began to concentrate on the future. After their meeting in Harcourt Street earlier, Ciara had told him that he would probably end up in the High Court as creditors to whom he’d given personal guarantees pressed for payment, although some had been partly satisfied by the disposal of his assets. She said that it might be possible to work out a settlement, depending on Brendan’s resources. She still couldn’t rule out the possibility of criminal proceedings and a jail sentence, she’d added. These days there was a lot more anger about so-called white-collar crime. As always, Brendan protested that he wasn’t a lawbreaker; he’d just made some terrible mistakes. He hoped that coming home to face the music would show that he regretted them deeply.

Dominique had just sent a quartet of golfers out to the course when the main phone rang.

‘Hi, Domino,’ said Paddy O’Brien when she answered it. ‘I thought I’d check in and see how you were doing.’

It was nice to hear his voice. Nice to hear the genuine warmth and concern in it.

‘Not too bad,’ she said. ‘Though I have a horrible feeling that it’s all going to be a bit more public soon and I’m not sure how things will pan out.’

‘Have you made any plans?’ asked Paddy.

‘Not yet,’ she replied. ‘Brendan was seeing his solicitor today, so I guess we’ll know after that.’

‘If you need anything at all, just let me know,’ said Paddy.

‘Thanks,’ said Dominique. ‘I will.’

‘Call me any time.’

‘Thanks,’ she said again.

She’d only just replaced the receiver when her mobile phone, on a ledge beneath the reception desk, started to vibrate. Staff weren’t supposed to use their phones when they were on duty (something Paddy knew, which was why he’d used the switchboard), but Dominique answered hers all the same.

‘Hi, Maeve,’ she said, having checked who was calling.

‘How’re things?’ demanded her friend. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ Dominique assured her. ‘A bit overcome by the drama of the last couple of days, but OK.’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m at work. I’ll call you later.’

‘At work?’ Maeve was astonished. ‘Don’t you need to take some time off and make plans?’

‘I couldn’t let them down. I’m the only one on today. Look, I can’t talk now, I’ll catch you later.’

‘All right,’ said Maeve. ‘But you’re mad, you know that? Anyway, I’m rooting for you.’

It was good to know that two people were rooting for her, thought Dominique.

Her phone rang again. She glanced around her before answering.

‘Hi,’ said a cheerful voice. ‘It’s Lizzie from the catering company. I hope you had a fantastic night. Is it OK if I drop by later on this afternoon to pick up the glasses?’

Brendan rang her later in the afternoon. He hadn’t left the house since his return from Harcourt Street and had spent some time watching the TV, where his return to Ireland had made the news. Nobody had yet figured out where he was staying, which relieved him, but the publicity wasn’t good. Once again the reporters gave a litany of the problems associated with his businesses, accompanied by photos of himself and Domino in their Dazzling Delahaye days.

She’d turned into a real beauty, he thought, as he looked at a still of his wife in a black and white dress, her dark hair piled high on her head, glittering diamond earrings in her ears and a matching necklace around her throat. She was still beautiful. The news switched its focus to another story, and the picture of Domino faded.

We were good together, Brendan told himself, and we can make it like that again.

He picked up the phone and called her. But it went to her voicemail. He left a message saying that he hoped she’d be home soon.

She hadn’t noticed the phone vibrating because she was very busy. There had been a constant stream of players in and out all day and she’d had her hands full organising them while at the same time taking bookings for the coming week and making sure that everything was on track for the competition scheduled for the weekend. She enjoyed being busy, though. And she liked it when they thanked her afterwards for looking after them so well.

Brendan wasn’t sure exactly what time Dominique was due home. She’d told him the previous night that she was working all day, but he didn’t know what that actually meant. And she hadn’t been very communicative, so he hadn’t tried to discuss it any further.

He was startled by a ring at the doorbell. He walked into the front room and looked cautiously out of the window. There was a small green van parked outside the gate, partly obscured by the privet hedge that grew inside the wall. He could make out the word ‘Catering’ and was debating whether the van was a genuine one or whether it was some ruse by a reporter to get him to open the door when the bell rang again.

He went to the door and opened it. A small, pert girl with a green baseball cap on her head smiled at him.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Is Mizz Delahaye in?’

‘No,’ said Brendan.

‘Oh.’ Lizzie Horgan looked disappointed. ‘I told her that I’d be along to collect the glasses and stuff. I’m a bit early, but I was passing by so I thought it would be worth while dropping in. Do you know where everything is?’

‘You catered for the party?’

‘Yes,’ said Lizzie. ‘Were you at it? Did everything go OK?’

‘That probably depends on your point of view,’ said Brendan.

‘The food was all right, was it?’ Lizzie looked concerned.

‘I’m sure it was. I wasn’t actually at the party,’ Brendan told her. ‘I was a last-minute arrival.’

Suddenly Lizzie’s eyes widened. ‘You’re Brendan, aren’t you? How did I not realise it before? You’re her husband.’

‘Yes,’ said Brendan.

‘You’re back.’

‘Yes,’ said Brendan again.

‘Wow.’ Lizzie wasn’t quite sure how to deal with this. Ash had always told her to be calm and professional no matter what the situation, but she’d never before been confronted by a possible on-the-run criminal.

‘I’d appreciate it if you’d respect my privacy,’ said Brendan. ‘There’s already been plenty of information on the news about my return.’

‘Of course,’ said Lizzie. ‘Well, look, I’m just here to collect the stuff, so ...’

‘I’ll help you.’

Brendan brought the boxes of glasses and the small wine chiller to the van and loaded it up.

‘Thanks,’ she said as she closed the van door. ‘I appreciate that very much.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He took his wallet from his trouser pocket and pulled out a fifty-euro note, which he handed to her.

‘Everything’s paid for,’ said Lizzie. ‘It’s fine, thanks.’

‘For your help,’ said Brendan. ‘It seemed to be a lovely party. And for your discretion.’

‘You don’t need—’

‘Take it,’ said Brendan. ‘You never know when a bit of cash will come in handy.’

Just before she finished her shift at five o’clock, Paul Rothery came into the clubhouse.

‘Hi, Domino,’ he said. ‘I’ve just seen the news.’

She smiled nervously at him.

‘There are a number of people who know you work here now,’ he said. ‘If anyone rings to talk to you or tries to harass you, then pass them on to me.’

She looked at him in surprise.

‘You’re a valued member of our team,’ he said. ‘We look after our people.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I hope everything works out,’ said Paul.

‘I hope so too,’ she said.

Sorcha arrived a couple of minutes later to take over. Dominique picked up her bag and walked towards her car. She was startled when another car door opened and someone got out, but then sighed with relief as she realised it was Maeve.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked her friend.

‘I wanted to check up on you,’ said Maeve. ‘I wanted to make sure everything was OK, because I didn’t think you’d have the opportunity to call me later and I saw the news and I’m worried about you, Domino.’

‘Nothing to worry about,’ said Dominique. ‘Whatever happens happens.’

‘Yes, but I’m worried about what you plan to do. With him.’

‘Him?’

‘Brendan, you clown. He’s staying with you, isn’t he?’

‘Yes.’ Dominique frowned suddenly. ‘Is that a problem, Maeve? Do you object to him being in your house?’

‘Not in the way you think,’ said Maeve. ‘He’s . . . well, he’s still your husband and it’s not like I’m going to tell you to throw him out, but you’ve got on fine without him for the last year and done a great job of building a life for yourself, and you don’t want to throw it all away, do you?’

‘How would I be throwing it all away?’

‘Getting caught up with Brendan’s stuff.’

‘I never did before.’

‘You were Dazzling Domino,’ Maeve reminded her. ‘The country’s most famous socialite.’

‘Not the most famous.’ Dominique grinned. ‘Not by a long shot. Anyway, those days are far behind me.’

‘It’s just . . . well, you’re letting him live with you. Are you getting back together with him?’