Unfaithful (65 page)

It was going to kick off next week with her official book launch party at The Belvedere Hotel. Friend
s, family and fans were invited, along with local media. She was naturally quite a shy, introverted person, preferring to live in her world of books and make-believe and she found circulating and “working the room” quite intimidating, but it was always a pleasure to hear from her fans. Whenever someone took the time to email her to tell her how much they enjoyed her books, she still had to pinch herself, not quite believing they were referring to her! Sometimes she felt she should email them back and ask them if they were sure they hadn’t emailed her by mistake! Her agent had organised book-signings, readings, television and radio interviews and she hated all the schmoozing involved, but it was a necessary evil, and one that she took seriously.

Writing was a solitary life for the most part. Occasionally, she missed the camaraderie and gossip of working in an office every day. There was nothing like having the routine and structure of going out to work and of course the guarantee of a pay-cheque at the end of the month was an added bonus! Some of her friends had an image that her life was glamorous; one big party and promotion, but nothing could be further from the truth. Most of her days were spent staring at her computer screen, praying for inspiration, trying to stay away from the ever-present distractions of Twitter and Facebook. She was the queen of procrastination but the internet was her lifeline to the outside world, a way for her to chat with other writers, and to exchange tips and find out the latest industry gossip. She’d made more friends online than she ever had in the so-called “real world.” Every morning the first thing she did was switch on her computer and raise a cup of strong coffee to her fellow writer friends. She’d never met most of them and it was unlikely that she ever would but it was comforting to know that there were other people out there in the same situation as her.

Wrapped up in her cosy cardigan, not wearing any makeup with her hair scraped back in a ponytail, it was decidedly unglamorous. It could be difficult finding the motivation to write creatively every day, especially when she had nobody to answer to but herself. She was glad her editor was a bit of a tyrant and constantly on her case otherwise she doubted she’d ever get any work done!

It upset her when people asked her what she did for a living and when she told them she was a writer they would often say. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to be a writer but I could never find the time.” It made her want to explain that it took a lot more than simple time to be a writer. You needed talent and motivation and bucket-loads of willpower as well as a very thick skin to deal with the negative reviews. She knew that not every reader would like her writing but it always hurt whenever she read something negative about her books; constructive criticism was one thing, blatant nastiness was quite another. She appreciated feedback and always bore it in mind for her future books, but some people seemed to get a sick pleasure out of completely annihilating a book. She’d had a review once where someone had written that they wanted to slap one of her characters as well as the author! Colm had laughed and said that at least her writing was provoking a reaction, even if it was a negative one.

The rewards far outweighed any of the negatives and her fans made everything worthwhile. It was a surreal and amazing feeling to know that there were people out there reading her books and genuinely enjoying them. Shona had encouraged her to pursue her dream of writing. She’d been applying for various part-time office jobs when Charlotte started school.

Shona had suggested writing. “Why not try something new?” she’d asked. “You’ve said for years that you’d love to try writing books, so why not start now? It’s the perfect time; Charlotte and Emmett are in school most days, and a
t least if you’re working from home you can still be around when they need you. Colm’s earning enough money to keep the household going, so what you need is a flexible job and what could be more flexible than writing?” Her sister’s enthusiasm had been infectious so she’d done a creative writing course via correspondence and a few short months later she’d taken her first tentative steps on her writing path.

Colm’s mobile phone started ringing, shaking her from her daydreaming. She picked it up and glanced at the screen. It was a private number calling. “Darling, your phone’s ringing!” she shouted up the stairs, but there was no response. She answered it quickly. “Hello.” There was no reply but she could hear someone breathing lightly on the other end of the line. “Hello, can you hear me?” she repeated, still there was no response. She stared at the screen for a moment before the line
went dead.

“Who was that?” Colm asked, eyeing her suspiciously when he saw his phone in her hand.

“Oh, I don’t know. I answered but they hung up.” She felt inexplicably guilty, as if she’d been caught out doing something wrong.

He took the phone from her and switched it off.

“Why did you that?” she asked.

“Because I want some quiet time alone with my wife,” he replied, taking her in his arms and kissing her passionately.

“What was that for?” She had the distinct impression that he was trying to distract her.

“Aren’t I allowed to kiss you anymore?” A note of irritation crept into his voice.

“Sure,” she shrugged dismissively, pushing her uneasiness to the back of her mind. “I should butter the toast.” She didn’t want to start another row and he’d been quite volatile recently; flying off the handle unexpectedly and shouting at the children for no real reason. She didn’t want to ruin her good mood by arguing with her husband, and in fairness, he was entitled to be edgy.

“Smells delicious,” he smiled, tucking into his scrambled eggs, his black mood gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Chapter 18

When had it started, the terrible rot that had set into their relationship? How could it have disintegrated so badly? They’d loved each other deeply, once upon a time. Why did she ever have to have set eyes on Mark McNamara? Fate, some would say it was written in the stars long before they’d ever met. Whatever it was, she could never hate him, no matter what he’d done. He’d given her two beautiful sons and she wouldn’t h
ave changed them for the world.

She closed her eyes and recalled in vivid detail the first time she’d seen him; the arrogant, self-confident, handsome young man who was full of smiling charisma, always the centre of attention. She’d never expected him to even notice her, certainly not to pay her any attention. He could have had his pick of many beautiful girls on campus, most of them already hung off his every word, but he had chosen her. It had been as much of a surprise to her as it had been to everyone else. She was the shy, quiet, pleasant-looking, studious type, and he was the outspoken, gregarious extrovert. But she’d seen a softer side to him, an unsure side, a side which constantly struggled to measure up to everyone else. This was the Mark she’d fallen in love with, the real Mark who only she truly knew.

She often thought about him in the evenings, after Ethan went to bed, and the silence in the big, empty house became deafening. She remembered how they’d fallen in love with the house, their dream home, Cois Farraige. She could still see the excitement in his bright eyes and the concentration etched on his face as he drew plans and elevations of their future home. He was determined that they would have it, that house in particular. He’d always longed for a huge, rambling home, not like the poky little place where he’d grown up. Cois Farraige would be the house where they would live happily ever after, just like in the fairy tales she’d loved so much as child.

The house had been in ruins for many years. She'd ofte
n passed it on her way to school, and sometimes she and her friends would play in the ruined grounds, scaring each other with horror stories about ghosts and goblins lurking in the shadows. But she'd fallen in love with the old-world romance of the place and imagined the magnificent parties that had been held there many years ago. Sometimes she would go there alone, walking along the twisting path which led out of the village and wound up through the tall oak trees, arriving eventually to the top of the hill with its panoramic views out to sea, yachts dotting the harbour far below. It truly was a magnificent place, especially on a late summer evening when the light was fading through the trees. She loved to go there to sketch, losing herself in her drawings. She brought Mark there shortly after they first met and he was even more enamoured of the place than her, if that was even possible.

Eventually, her father had grudgingly bought the old place for them as a wedding present. He'd never approved of Mark, and it turned out he'd been right to have his misgivings about him. Maybe she'd married him as an act of rebellion against her controlling parents. Maybe she'd never really loved him at all. She shivered. Dark clouds covered the setting sun. The shadows seemed int
ense, menacing even. A storm was brewing. She tried to reassure herself as she rose to shut the heavy curtains against the fading evening light. The wind was beginning to stir, blowing the sparse leaves which still remained on the trees. Her memories and regrets were all she seemed to have left on the long, dark, winter evenings.

Mark's love of life had been infectious. He was interested in everything and everyone, but at the same time, there seemed to be a peculiar restlessness which she could sense in him. He was full of plans, and wanted to see the world, but all the while she felt he was searching for something more. She’d wondered if she'd ever be enough; in the end he'd shown her that she wasn't enough.

Nothing seemed to satisfy him. He was always reaching higher, looking for more; bigger, better, brighter. That was why she'd been more shocked than anyone when he'd asked her to marry him. He'd never seemed like the marrying kind. She'd never imagined him wanting to get married, settle down and have children but he seemed to have committed himself wholeheartedly to her. She would never have guessed what he'd been getting up to behind her back. He was probably addicted to the excitement and the adventure of it; someone new, something different, while having the security of a rich, trusting wife behind him. She punched the cushion beside her. He'd made such a fool of her! It made her blood boil when she thought of how she'd believed in him, trusted him and loved him. She'd given him everything and he'd thrown it back in her face over and over again. But somehow, somewhere deep inside, she knew she still meant something to him, just as Cois Farraige meant something to him and their children too.

It was like being on a rollercoaster. She went from hating him to loving him to hating him again. The memories kept coming back to her of the wonderful times they'd shared together. She remembered the heated arguments Mark had with her father about how much the house was costing to renovate. Her father was an overbearing man, used to getting his own way, but his domineering manner didn't faze Mark in the slightest.

“This project has gone way over budget! Do you think I'm made of money?” he yelled at Mark, his face red with temper. She often wondered if he'd have a heart attack right there and then on the spot. He always seemed to be worked up about something.

Mark was good enough for him. “You're right!” he yelled in retaliation, firmly standing his ground. “But it can't be helped.”

“It can be helped! You must stick to the budget!”

“We know the house we want, and I know you want to give your daughter her dream home. This will be a house of quality and grandeur and you'll boast about it to your friends and colleagues. This house will be unique. There's more to life than money.”

Her father had stared at him in shock. It had been a long time since anyone had had the audacity to shout at him. She would stand by and listen during their heated debates. Anyone could see that their house, overlooking the bay, was going to be spectacular and she knew her father could see it too, although he'd never admit it.

“Cois Farraige is like a diamond in the rough. It has this beautiful setting just waiting to grasp its newly polished, cut diamond,” Mark said once. He had a way with words, a turn of phrase that made you think, made you see things his way. He could certainly shut her father up fast enough.

Mark was ambitious alright. His head was full of ideas and notions, above his station, her father often grumbled. He had plenty of ambition but he didn't like to work hard. He enjoyed the easy life too much. Photography was his passion but it came naturally to him. It wasn't hard work and having a rich wife behind him meant he didn't have to overexert himself too much.

She thought about Mark often, especially since his release from prison. She wondered what he was doing out there in the big bad world while she sat home alone most evenings. He was probably enjoying life, as usual, making up for lost time, not giving her a second thought. She'd a
lways been intrigued by his attitude to life. She wished she could erase him from her memory but no matter how hard she tried, her mind wandered to him.

Brianna Moynihan, her psychiatrist, said it was natural, considering they'd spent a lifetime together. But she also advised that although she c
ouldn't control her memories resurfacing, she could control whether or not she dwelt on them. It was easier said than done. Practice, Brianna advised; as soon as her mind wandered to Mark, she should replace it with thoughts of something else. It was very difficult. The whole house reminded her of him. Her sons reminded her of him. No matter how hard she tried to escape him, he was everywhere, surrounding her, suffocating her. It was easy for him; he could move on with his life but she was stuck in a time warp. Why was life so unfair? She hadn't done anything wrong. She'd always done everything the right way and she'd been rewarded by a man who'd tried to kill her! Maybe it was time to stop doing the right thing and start doing what she actually wanted, regardless of the consequences.