Two For Joy (55 page)

‘It's got possibilities!' the tax consultant told her twenty minutes later, ‘but I wouldn't be prepared to pay what they're looking for.' Heather knew he was chancing his arm.

‘We have an offer in for the asking price already,' Heather assured him.

‘Well, they're paying far too much,' Shay Lincoln blustered. ‘It's too far from Dublin for that price.'

‘Well, the couple who've put in the offer are from Dublin and they don't seem to think so. It's all a matter of perception, isn't it?' Heather remarked.

‘Come on, Chloe, let's view that house outside Navan,' Shay said peremptorily, giving a curt nod in Heather's direction.

Up yours too,
she thought, but she smiled politely, thinking that the whole morning had been wasted. She filled the kettle and switched it on, waiting until their Merc had disappeared before she headed off to rescue Oliver. He was snoring loudly, oblivious to everything. Heather drove the car back to the front of the house and gave him a poke in the ribs. ‘Come on, Oliver, wakey, wakey.' He opened one eye and looked at her bleary-eyed.

‘Don't ask,' she said kindly. ‘I have the kettle boiling. What you need is a good strong cup of coffee.'

Oliver groaned and ran his hand over a dark, stubbly jaw. ‘I think I went on a bender,' he muttered, but this time he seemed more with it, his voice less slurred than earlier.

‘I think that about describes it,' Heather said cheerfully as she led the way into the house. ‘Sorry about leaving you in the car. I thought it was the best thing to do, especially as the Reillys from Mount Kilronan were the first viewers.'

‘That pair!' Oliver exclaimed in disgust as he sank on to a chair at the kitchen table and put his head in his hands. ‘I don't care if they offer more than the asking price, I'm not selling to that pair of snobby hoors!'

Heather laughed.

‘Sorry about the language,' he apologized.

‘Ah, don't be silly, Oliver. You should see me in full flow, especially when I'm describing Neil and Lorna,' Heather scoffed as she placed a mug of coffee in front of him. ‘Would you like anything to eat?'

Oliver winced. ‘No thanks. Look, Heather, I'm very sorry that … em … er … sorry about this,' he muttered, embarrassed.

‘Forget it, Oliver, you're going through a rough time, it's allowed. Look, when you've finished that why don't you go up and have a shower and go to bed and I'll come back later on this afternoon and drive you to wherever you left the car,' she offered.

‘I think I left it in the car park behind the Haven. I was on the way home from the Ma's when I dropped in for a drink … or two. I walked home. I wasn't too bad at that stage. Then I went on the brandy,' he confessed.

‘Well look, you go and sleep it off and I'll call back in the afternoon. All part of the service.' She smiled.

‘OK so,' he said wearily, too under the weather to argue with her.

Impulsively she stood up from the table and gave him a hug. He looked so miserable and unhappy her heart went out to him. It must be horrible for him to know that Noreen was expecting twins and he couldn't father a child. She'd thought she was unhappy, but his misery far outdid hers, she decided magnanimously.

‘What was that for?' he looked astonished.

‘Thought you might need one,' she said good-naturedly.

‘Thanks, Heather,' he said awkwardly. ‘You're a nice person.'

‘Arrah, you're not bad yourself,' she said lightly, not wanting him to be embarrassed. ‘See you later.'

Well, you never knew what you were going to encounter when you went showing houses, that was for sure, she reflected as she drove back into town. She had another house to show at lunchtime, she'd want to get a move on.

It was after four before she got back to Oliver's. There was no sign of his car, so he obviously hadn't collected it. She wondered if he was at home. She rang the doorbell and waited patiently for him to answer. She heard him run down the stairs and smiled. That sounded more like the Oliver she knew. He was shaved and dressed in fresh clothes when he opened the door and she knew by him that he was mortified.

‘You want a lift into town?' she asked lightly.

‘You shouldn't have bothered, Heather. I could make my own way in, the walk wouldn't kill me,' he said awkwardly.

‘It might with that hangover.' She grinned.

Oliver managed a wry smile. ‘It's pretty impressive all right,' he agreed.

‘Come on, hop in and I'll drive as carefully as I can over the potholes,' she promised.

They drove in silence, but it wasn't a strained one and when she pulled up outside the Haven he turned and smiled sheepishly at her. ‘Thanks, Heather, if ever I can do you a favour let me know,' he said.

‘The next time you're going on a bender let me know and I'll go with you,' she laughed. ‘We can drown our sorrows together.'

‘And how are your sorrows? Any better?' he inquired.

Heather threw her eyes up to heaven. ‘Bad weekend. You might have gone on the beer, I went on a food binge, and then I went on a diet this morning and I saw him arriving home from America so I had an éclair at break time.' She looked at him. ‘Speaking of food, my Mam's off on a Ladies Club day out and my dad's playing golf so I'm fending for myself. Do you feel like coming into the Haven for something to eat before you pick up the car? I'll treat you for your birthday.'

Oliver laughed. ‘Did I tell you it was my birthday? I
must
have been pissed. Come on then, but I'll treat you for what you did for me.'

Heather shook her head. ‘No. My treat. I suggested it, and besides, then you'll have one good thing to remember this birthday for,' she said firmly.

‘You're a real old softie, aren't you?' Oliver declared, but he looked pleased.

‘Me, I'm as hard as nails,' Heather assured him as she reversed into a parking space.

‘Yeah, I believe that all right. You're the toughest nut in Kilronan.' They walked into the smoky darkness of the Haven, Oliver holding the door open for her to precede him.

Nice manners,
she thought. Neil had been very hit and miss on the manners. They sat in a quiet alcove and studied the menus in silence. ‘Scampi and side salad for me I think,' Heather decided. ‘Oliver?'

‘Aah, I think I'll go for the plaice and chips. That can't do too much damage.'

‘A drink?' she suggested.

‘I think I'll stick to Seven-Up,' Oliver said ruefully as a waitress came to take their order. ‘Er … Heather, I was just wondering, when I told you it was my birthday, did I reveal any more dark secrets?' he asked warily when the waitress had moved away.

Heather dropped her gaze. She could lie and say he'd said nothing, but what happened if he vaguely remembered saying something? He'd know she was lying.

‘It was drink talking,' she said offhandedly.

‘And
exactly
what did drink say?' he probed.

‘Does it matter, Oliver?' she shifted in her chair. How did she answer him, for God's sake?

‘Just tell me, Heather, I can take it on the chin,' he said firmly.

Heather cleared her throat. ‘Well, you told me that Noreen was expecting twins and that you weren't the father. And er … you said that you couldn't give her a child,' she said quietly. That was as far as she was going, she was damned if she was going to embarrass himself and herself any further by his confession that he couldn't get it up.

Oliver looked her squarely in the eye and she admired him for it.

‘Heather, for Noreen's sake I'd ask you not to mention this to anybody. I'd be very grateful for your discretion.'

‘Oliver, I assure you, I promise you, you have it. It's nobody's business but yours and Noreen's. I'll never say a word to a sinner, honestly,' she said earnestly.

‘I know you won't. You're a real pal.' Oliver gave her hand a quick squeeze and she felt very honoured to hear him call her a pal. Instinct told her that when Oliver Flynn paid a compliment he meant it.

‘Now tell me how are you getting on with Ray Carleton? He seems to be a decent bloke. Do you think he's the one on the periphery that your woman told you about?' Oliver teased, relaxing after clearing the air.

‘No, I found out he's seeing someone. A teacher up in Dublin. Strike him off the list.' Heather shrugged.

‘Maybe it's someone you'll sell a house to? Don't give up.' Oliver stretched his long legs out in front of him.

‘And what about you, have you seen anyone?' Heather asked.

‘I'm not looking.' His face darkened.

‘Well, they say that it's when you're not looking that
lurve
strikes! So watch out.'

‘I'm not going down that road again, Heather,' Oliver declared.

‘Tell you what,' she suggested. ‘Whichever of us gets fixed up first the other one has to buy a bottle of champers.'

‘Well, you'd better decide what you like, Moët, Dom P, because you'll be the one drinking it.'

‘Go to Anne Jensen, the psychic. I
dare
you.' Heather's eyes sparkled with mischief.

‘Are you mad, woman?' Oliver growled. ‘Thank God, here's our food. That will keep you quiet for a while.'

‘Coward,' she taunted.

‘That's me,' he agreed as he sprinkled salt and vinegar on his chips, but Heather was glad to see that at least he was smiling.

45

Oliver sighed and turned over on to his back. Something was different, he thought vaguely, and then realization dawned as the full, tingling sensation that he hadn't had for months reminded him that he was normal again. No need for Viagra after all. A huge wave of relief enveloped him. He'd seriously begun to wonder if he'd ever enjoy the pleasures of sex again. This was a step in the right direction. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders and for the first time since the beginning of the year he began to feel optimistic about life again.

Life wasn't too bad at the moment, as it happened. He yawned. The first six apartments were finished, so he could move in any time he wanted, once he had the place painted. Heather had told him she'd give him a hand decorating and arranging furniture and curtains, and stuff like that.

Heather Williams was one really nice girl, he thought sleepily. And very easy to talk to. He felt as if he'd always known her. She had a relaxed way about her that made him feel comfortable in her company. He liked her very much. They'd had a few good laughs since he'd put the house on the market. It was a pity he was the way he was, he wouldn't mind getting to know her better. Still, at least he wasn't moping around the place like he had been. And now this. He was half-way normal again. It was a very pleasant start to the day.

*   *   *

Neil Brennan felt like thumping his computer. He had connected to his emails and surprise, surprise, there wasn't one to be had from Lorna. It was weeks since he'd been to New York and he hadn't heard a peep from her. What a bitch! She'd really used him, let him spend a fortune on her and dumped him. He'd sent email after email but to no avail. She might as well not be on the planet.

If he'd known she was so shallow, insincere and manipulating he'd never have gone near her. It would take him months to pay off his credit card expenses. He'd had a stinker of a letter from the credit card company for exceeding his credit limit, and he still had to endure a talking to from his accountant later in the afternoon.

He was totally browned off. That new girl, Carol, wasn't at all interested in her job and he'd had to speak to her about her use of the phone for personal calls. He had a feeling that she wouldn't be staying for long and then he'd have the hassle of looking for someone else. He wondered if he offered Heather more money would she give up her job in the estate agency and come back to work for him? They didn't have to be personally involved. They could keep the relationship strictly business.

Surely she couldn't turn up her nose at more money, not if she had any sense, and she had to be over her huffs with him by now. ‘Ah, come on, Lorna, get in touch,' he muttered, tapping his pen impatiently against the desk, staring at his empty ‘in' box. He knew in his heart of hearts that there was no chance she was going to contact him after all this time. She had his email, his office number, the flat number and his mobile number. Lorna had done the dirty on him and he might as well forget her. But if he ever saw her again he'd let her have it. By God he would!

*   *   *

‘Are you going home next month?' Carina plonked herself down beside Lorna on a banquette during a break on their shift.

‘If I don't get out of this dump soon, I am.'

‘Aw, come on, it pays much better than office work and it's a bit of a laugh. I'm staying another year at least. I might even have the deposit on an apartment saved when I get home.' Carina yawned.

‘You wouldn't be seen dead waitressing at home,' Lorna snapped resentfully. She hadn't saved a penny but she had a terrific new wardrobe, a dozen bags and eight pairs of shoes, her latest being a divine pair from Prada with their distinctive silver buckle that oozed uptown chic.

‘I know,' Carina admitted cheerfully. ‘But you'd never make at home what you make here. Come on, we'd better get our butts in gear. Oh look, there's Suzie. What's she doing here on her lunch break?' She waved at one of their housemates.

‘Hi, girls.' Suzie sank on to the banquette wearily and wriggled her feet out of her shoes. ‘Any chance of a latte?'

‘Coming up.' Carina went to oblige.

‘Actually it was you I wanted to see, Lorna. You can type can't you? And you did reception work?' Suzie asked, flicking her blonde hair back over her shoulders. She worked as a PA to a wedding planner.