Stand by Me (65 page)
Brendan had been pleased with the article and had already been approached by a number of businessmen asking him about his role in Keystone Construction and the projects they might be getting involved in. He had related all this to Dominique with a smile, telling her that things were coming good and that people were beginning to respect him again. RTÉ had also been in touch, asking him to appear on TV to talk about his experiences. Dominique had begged him not to, saying that she wanted them to keep a low profile for a while, but Brendan was toying with the idea. It would put him back on the map, he said. It would do exactly what Dominique’s own confessions years earlier had done. Open doors for them.
Dominique wasn’t sure that she wanted any doors opened. Ever since moving to Fairview and working at Glenmallon, her life had been quiet and private, and it suited her. She’d enjoyed making her own way and doing her own thing.
Yet it was good not to feel alone any more.
It was nice to have someone in the house at night.
And it was comforting to think that Brendan still wanted to be with her.
The day before the reception was a busy one at Glenmallon, with every tee time booked and plenty of eager golfers ready to get out on the course. Dominique shouldn’t have been working that day, but because she and Brendan had accepted the invitation to the reception, she’d switched her shift with Meganne.
Meganne had asked her if Brendan’s return meant the end of her relationship with Paddy O’Brien.
‘I don’t have a relationship with Paddy. He’s just a friend.’ Dominique had repeated her mantra to her colleague.
‘I’m sure he wants to be more than that,’ Meganne told her. ‘In all the time I’ve known him, he’s never come to Glenmallon as often as he has since you’ve started working here.’
‘We get on well together.’
‘And how will Brendan take to that?’ asked Meganne.
Dominique had laughed dismissively, and Meganne had then simply asked if she had something new to wear to the event. Because, she said, if Dominique was going to be in the public eye again, it would be important to look as great as possible.
‘I don’t need anything new,’ Dominique replied. ‘I’ve a nice dress I’ve hardly ever worn that will do perfectly. Besides, it’s not a madly glam do or anything, Meganne. It’s just in the new sports centre, that’s all.’ And a buffet afterwards in one of Cork’s most upmarket hotels. Which was why she wasn’t simply wearing jeans.
‘I suppose if I had gorgeous vintage pieces like you, I wouldn’t think of anything new either,’ agreed Meganne, and Dominique laughed at the notion that her Chanel shift dress, which had languished in her wardrobe for four years, only having been worn twice, could be considered vintage.
The last time she’d worn it had been to one of her lunchtime charity auctions. The event had taken place at Dromoland Castle, and photographs had appeared in the glossy gossip magazines almost at once. The caption beneath them had been ‘Domino Dazzles Dromoland’. The dress had been plain and simple, but it had been perfectly set off by the diamonds she’d worn around her neck and the crystal clips in her glossy hair.
‘Hello, Domino.’
She turned around in surprise. Paddy O’Brien hadn’t phoned or emailed as he normally did before he came to the golf club. Her heart started to beat faster.
‘Hi,’ she said calmly. ‘How are things?’
‘Great, thanks.’
He looked tanned and healthy in a casual white shirt and biscuit-coloured chinos. She knew he’d been in South Africa, where he was advising on a new course there. She’d been glad that he was away, because despite her dismissal of Meganne’s question, she hadn’t felt able to juggle her friendship with Paddy and her marriage to Brendan.
‘When did you get back?’
‘Last week.’
He usually phoned when he got back from a trip. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for not doing it this time. After all, she was living with her husband again. And the truth was that even though she considered Paddy to be a good friend, men and women were never just friends. Having a man as a friend could complicate a marriage. She’d proved that herself, hadn’t she, with Greg?
‘Did it go well?’
She’d only spoken to him twice since Brendan’s return - the day he’d phoned her at work, and a few days later, when she’d called him and told him that she was a bit caught up with domestic matters, as he might imagine, and that she’d probably be out of touch for a while. He’d been sympathetic and understanding and told her not to worry; he was sure he’d see her again soon. But he hadn’t, because shortly after that he’d gone to South Africa again. He hadn’t told her about this trip; she’d heard about it at the golf club.
‘Pretty well,’ he told her. ‘I was at the Cape. It’s lovely there. Not unlike Cork, actually.’ He smiled. ‘There’s a town called Bantry, too.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘So a real home from home.’
‘I’m glad you had a good time.’
‘I was working,’ he reminded her. ‘It wasn’t all about good times.’ And then he laughed. ‘Well, it was, to be honest. I like what I do.’ His eyes softened. ‘And how about you, Domino? How are things with you?’
‘Oh, you know.’ She shrugged. ‘Getting on with it.’
He frowned. ‘Getting on with what, exactly?’
‘Changed circumstances,’ she told him. ‘Brendan’s return.’
‘He’s living with you?’ Paddy raised an eyebrow quizzically.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Well, for the moment anyway.’
‘For the moment? Has he plans to move out?’
‘I don’t know.’ Dominique looked at Paddy uncertainly. ‘We haven’t . . . decided yet.’
‘Right.’
‘It’s been very difficult,’ she said.
‘I can imagine.’
‘You can’t.’
‘Probably not,’ conceded Paddy. ‘At least my marriage troubles followed a well-worn course, both domestically and in the media. Though from what I can gather, Brendan’s old friends seem to be embracing him again.’
Dominique shrugged. ‘It’s hard to tell. Those kind of friendships can be very fickle. So I can’t turn my back on him.’
‘Are you in love with him still?’ asked Paddy.
It was a question she was sometimes asked by the people closest to her. But, until now, not by Paddy O’Brien.
He waited silently for her reply.
‘I can’t answer that yet,’ she said finally.
‘Oh, Domino.’ Paddy looked at her sympathetically. ‘You still don’t know what you want, do you?’
‘No,’ said Dominique. ‘But I’m fine. I’m managing.’
‘There’s more to life than just managing,’ said Paddy.
The phone rang and she picked it up.
Paddy waited while she talked to a club member, and then, as the query became more complicated, he shrugged at her and walked away. He hadn’t returned to the desk by the time she left for home.
Brendan wasn’t in when she arrived back at Fairview. She changed out of her navy and white suit and into a pair of sweatpants and a lightweight fleece. Then she sat in the living room with the doors to the yard open and watched the bamboo grasses sway in the breeze.
She remembered doing the exact same thing in their first house in Firhouse. Brendan had planted the grasses along either dividing wall. He liked them. He thought they were restful. So did she. And when she’d been coming through her depression, she’d often sat at the patio doors of the kitchen, listening to the gentle rustle of their slender green leaves in the wind.
She got up from the chair she’d been sitting on and went to the cupboard beneath the bookshelves in the alcove beside the fireplace. She took out a large cardboard box, which had once contained a set of Waterford glass tumblers. Now it was full of photographs.
They were old photos, because in the last few years they’d used their digital camera or video instead of the 35mm Olympus that Brendan had bought on their honeymoon in Majorca. Almost all the shots they’d taken with that camera were in the box. Photos of themselves on honeymoon - she with her newly acquired tan and Brendan with his peeling nose. Photos of Kelly, lots and lots that Brendan had taken when she’d been a baby and Dominique hadn’t even noticed him snapping away; she was glad now that he had, because otherwise she wouldn’t have any memories of Kelly’s first months. Photos of them as a family, too, in Templeogue and in Terenure and shortly after the move to Atlantic View.
She stopped as she looked at one of the two of them, her and Brendan, side by side with the ocean in the background. She was wearing white capri pants and a bright pink top; he was in blue Bermudas and topless. His shoulders, even in the Irish summer, showed the telltale marks of too much sun. They had their arms around each other and they were laughing.
Dominique remembered Kelly taking the photo the summer of their move to Cork. She’d told them to smile and look happy and it had been easy to do, because Dominique remembered that time, when she was still dazzling and before the discovery of Miss Valentine, as being one of the happiest of her life. It had never been quite the same after she’d found the mobile phone with the text message on it.
But we got over it, she reminded herself. Just like we got over all the bumps along the road. We stuck with each other, and it wasn’t easy but we kept going together. We can still keep going together, because we understand each other. Perhaps we always will.
Chapter 35
Emma phoned Greg. She’d been thinking about it for quite a while, and now she picked up the phone and dialled his number before she had the chance to change her mind. He sounded surprised to hear her voice.
‘I’m sorry for calling you at work,’ she said. ‘It was just that . . . well, I wondered would you like to come to dinner tonight?’
‘Huh?’ He sounded startled.
‘I have a voucher,’ she said. ‘I won it in a draw in the supermarket. ’
‘A raffle?’ he asked.
‘No, you put your name on the back of your receipt,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter how I won it, Greg. I just did. And I have to use it before the end of the month. Lily and Maurice asked Lugh if he’d like to have a sleepover with them tonight and so I thought that maybe you’d like to come out with me.’
Greg hesitated.
‘If you don’t want to, it’s fine,’ said Emma. ‘I was thinking it would be a good opportunity for us to chat, that’s all.’
‘OK,’ Greg said. ‘I suppose there are things we need to discuss.’
So now they were together in the elegant hotel restaurant overlooking the river Lee, with their salmon roulade starters and two glasses of crisp Sauvignon Blanc in front of them.
‘How are things with you?’ asked Greg as he buttered some brown bread.
‘Not bad.’ She smiled slightly. ‘I’ve got a job.’
‘What sort of job?’ he asked.
‘Part time,’ she said. ‘While Lugh is at school. In a café.’
‘A café?’ He sounded surprised.
‘I needed something to do,’ said Emma. ‘It’s a long time since I earned my own money, and I quite like it. Besides, it’s lonely in the house when Lugh’s at school.’
Greg nodded.
‘I probably would’ve looked for something even if you were still living with us,’ Emma continued. ‘After all, I’m not really on the ladies-who-lunch circuit any more.’
‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘Probably not,’ admitted Emma. ‘I enjoyed myself when I did it with Domino, but it’s not as much fun now, and of course I only got invited to half the events because of her anyway.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
‘We’re not among the rich and famous,’ Emma told him. ‘You have to be able to dig deep to go to some of those lunches.’
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