What She Wants (68 page)

Sam looked at him speculatively. She knew what she fancied and it wasn’t eating. But Morgan didn’t appear to feel the same. He liked her, she knew that for sure. Why else would he go to so much bother for her birthday? But when was he ever going to make a move?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

It took Sam ages to leave for her first yoga class a few days later. It was her own fault for leaving the leggings on the end of her bed where Spike could turn them into fringe bottomed, eyelet-holed trousers after an hour’s solid ripping. Spike was fatally drawn to clothes. She liked nothing better than to shred tights or tear great big holes in tshirts. All the towels in the apartment now sported big long loops where Spike had been scratching playfully and then pulled. Sometimes she got stuck and squealed piteously until Sam arrived to free her. Sam suspected that if she wasn’t freed, she merely bit her way out, which accounted for the tiny holes near some of the biggest loops. Tabitha was her sister’s devoted slave and looked up to her. Sam hoped the marmalade terror wasn’t going to teach Tabitha any naughty tricks. ‘I can’t wear these,’ Sam said, holding up the leggings that had been in pristine condition a mere hour previously. ‘Spike, you are a holy terror. I’ll have to find something else now.’ Spike sat on the floor and continued grooming herself, utterly unconcerned. Tabitha, meanwhile, peered meekly from under the computer desk. ‘Why didn’t you come and tell me what your naughty big sister was up to?’ Sam asked Tabitha, picking her up and cuddling her. Tabitha begged forgiveness by rubbing her tiny face against Sam’s cheek. ‘Oh you are a little pet, aren’t you?’ Sam said. It amazed her how easily she’d got used to having the

kittens around and how much a part of her life they now were after only a few days. They leaped onto the bed in the mornings, demanding love and breakfast. Sam hadn’t been letting them out of the apartment because they were still too young. Until they’d had all their injections from the vet, they had to use their litter tray and content themselves with looking at the outdoors. When she came home from work, they were thrilled, weaving excitedly around her ankles and purring loudly. Tabitha’s favourite position was on the windowsill watching the world go by and gazing with huge, astonished eyes at the two robins who spent their lives in the birch tree outside the window. Spike’s favourite position was wherever she could do most damage. No curtain was safe from her destructive, naughty paws and she was quite capable of leaping onto the coffee table and dipping one exploratory paw into whatever Sam was eating to see if she liked it. ‘Stop it,’ Sam would yell, making Tabitha whisk off under the sofa in terror, while Spike would blithely lick her paw clean as if she hadn’t a care in the world and as if she had every right to be sitting on the table. ‘I’m going to be late thanks to you, Spike,’ Sam said, rifling through her drawers for something to wear. The phone broke her concentration. It was Hope. ‘I can’t stop to talk,’ Sam said apologetically, hating to not have time to talk to her sister who was, after all, going through so much. ‘I’m late for my yoga class and bloody Spike has ruined my leggings.’ She was thrilled when Hope giggled. ‘I’m sorry,’ Hope said, sounding a lot more cheerful than she had for ages, ‘but there’s a certain sick humour in that. I have Millie laying waste to my wardrobe and you have Spike doing the same.’ ‘They should get a flat together,’ Sam remarked. ‘Can I call you back later?’ ‘Sure.’ ‘How was the yoga?’ Hope asked that evening when Sam rang back.

‘Marvellous,’ replied Sam from her prone position on the couch. She felt absolutely wonderful, calm and serene as if she’d had a glass of wine but without the accompanying lack of sobriety. ‘I feel as if I’ve just been in a flotation tank for an hour, it’s incredible. And you have to try it, Hope. It would be so good for you.’

‘Are you implying that I need relaxing?’ asked Hope wryly.

‘Well, you could probably do with a few months in a flotation tank,’ Sam pointed out. ‘And this is cheaper. I did get a book but you have to have lessons I think. There’s no way I’d have figured out the breathing without it.’

‘Oh, you mean like giving-birth-type of breathing?’ Hope asked.

‘Haven’t a clue. But I did have to get into some weird positions today that made me look as if I was giving birth, so maybe that’s the link. How are you, anyway?’

She could almost hear Hope grimacing. ‘Okay, I suppose,’ Hope said slowly. ‘I still haven’t made any huge, life changing decisions yet, which is just as well because everyone is telling me not to do anything but to “sit tight”. I wish I knew what that meant.’

‘It’s what people say when they don’t know what to say,’ Sam said wisely. ‘Nobody wants to offer any sort of opinion because it’s only been a bit over two weeks and hopefully, it will all work out.’

‘Two weeks and five days,’ Hope interrupted.

‘Whatever. Everyone’s scared to give you proper advice because if they tell you it’s good riddance and you and Matt subsequently make it up, they’ll feel embarrassed forever. Likewise if they tell you to throw yourself on his mercy and you don’t, then they’ll feel like an even bigger idiot for having read the situation wrongly.’

‘And what’s your advice?’

Sam paused. In the period since Mart’s departure, she’d wondered exactly what her sister should do. Her notion of Hope’s reaction to Mart’s leaving had been wrong. Sam

imagined Hope would sob helplessly and do anything to get him back. But she’d been wrong. Instead, Hope had squared her shoulders and got on with life. During the weekend Sam had spent in Redlion, she’d been astonished to see her sister cope so well. But was it merely because she thought the separation was a short-term thing? If Matt filed for a divorce, how would she cope then?

‘I don’t have any advice, Hope,’ she said candidly. ‘I’m hardly an expert on relationships. Look, what do you want?’

‘You know what I want. I want Matt to come back home but he won’t even talk to me on the phone. He just says he wants to speak to the children and that he doesn’t want to talk to me.’

It did not sound good, Sam decided. ‘He’s got to come to terms with it, I suppose,’ she said.

‘I know,’ Hope said dismally. ‘He won’t let me explain anything. The only explanation he got was my frantic one the night he left, which was hardly coherent. I’d love the chance to say that I was wrong but that I adore him, that it was a mistake born out of stupidity and nothing else. If I’d been thinking, I’d never even have looked at Christy. But then,’ Hope sounded bitter, ‘thinking rationally has never been my strong point.’

‘Shall I speak to Matt?’ Sam asked tentatively.

‘No.’ Hope was firm. ‘I want him to come back because he wants to, not because other people have made him do it. Maybe that’s what “sitting tight” is. People do say the stupidest things.’

Sam attempted to cheer her up: ‘Give it a month and I know exactly what people will be saying to you, and it’ll have nothing to do with sitting tight. They’ll be inviting you to dinner parties where they’ve got a spare man lined up for you. There’ll be men crawling out of the woodwork for you, divorced husbands, men who’ve never had girlfriends, men who live with their mothers and don’t buy their own underpants, you wait and see.’

‘I hope not. I’ve had enough of men to last me for the rest of my life,’ Hope said vehemently. ‘They will, I promise,’ her sister said. ‘You never know,’ she added, ‘you might even find some absolute hunk.’ ‘I tried that,’ Hope said drily, ‘and look where it got me. Anyway, enough misery. How about you?’ ‘Not bad,’ sighed Sam. ‘I’m trying to find out why the hell the men I like refuse to make a move on me and men I wouldn’t fancy if they were the last human beings on earth think I’m God’s gift.’ This last was inspired by Steve who had smiled goofily at her twice in the past two days. Morgan, on the other hand, appeared determined to keep their relationship strictly platonic. ‘It’s an anti-magnetic thing,’ Hope offered. ‘Aunty who?’ ‘Anti-magnetic. Some women have such magnetism they make men drop like flies at their feet. Some don’t. You and I have obviously turned into the don’t variety.’ ‘A cheerful thought,’ Sam said. ‘Well, we can turn mad and eccentric and never have to worry about anybody stealing all the duvet in the middle of the night again,’ Hope said. ‘I never have had to worry about that,’ Sam pointed out. ‘So, what have you been up to?’ On the other end of the phone, Hope thought about telling the truth. But she couldn’t. ‘Oh, you know, looking after small children, cleaning up hen shit and Mary-Kate’s found me a job attempting to organize the Redlion Tourist Office which, apparently, hasn’t been the same since the co-ordinator left last year to visit an ashram and never came back.’ ‘Busy, huh?’ said Sam. ‘Yes,’ sighed Hope. When she’d hung up, Hope went upstairs to check on the children, then came down and made herself a cup of camomile tea. Mary-Kate, who was a firm believer in medicine’s

advances in anti-depressants, had wanted Hope to see Dr McKevitt for a check-up. But Hope, knowing that she wasn’t allowed anything on account of her pregnancy, said she’d stick to the odd glass of wine (which was a lie as she couldn’t even have that) and camomile tea to help her sleep.

The tea made, she investigated the television guide to see what she could watch. This was her evening routine now; or at least, it had become her routine since the day she was tidying the bathroom and came upon a packet of tampons she hadn’t used for at least two months. Only the anxiety of the past few weeks meant she had missed the unavoidable signs of pregnancy: feeling nauseous and a strange metallic taste in her mouth. She’d had exactly the same symptoms with Toby and Millie.

It was no little source of ironic amusement to her that she must have become pregnant on that fateful night in Kinsale when Matt had thought she’d wanted another baby; a night when she’d been consumed by guilt over her flirtation with Christy.

In the midst of all the shock, Hope knew one thing for certain: she wanted this new baby, and she didn’t care how hard it would be to bring him or her up without a father.

She still felt devastated at the idea that her marriage was over. The thought of never laughing with Matt again, of not feeling his arms protectively around her, those thoughts were agony. But there was no point in dwelling on her misery. She had a duty to protect her children. Through her hubris, she’d already ruined their parents’ marriage, now she had to stop feeling sorry for herself and take care of them properly. All three of them.

‘I need to see the children, Hope. I’m coming to Ireland for the weekend and I’m going to stay in Killarney.’

Matt’s voice was so cold and distant that Hope had to bite her lip to stop her voice shaking.

‘That’s fine,’ she said bravely. She’d been dressing Millie for bed when he’d phoned and had prepared to hand the

phone straight over to her daughter when Matt had said he wanted to speak to Hope.

‘Yes?’ she’d said eagerly, ever hopeful that he wanted a reunion, that everything was going to be fine.

‘I’ll phone you when I’ve booked a hotel and you can drop the children off on Saturday morning. I’m sure you won’t mind them staying with me that night. It’ll give you a chance to have some fun.’ The bitter way he said the word ‘fun’ made it apparent that her husband thought she was still having fun with Christy De Lacy.

‘You can have the kids on Saturday night,’ Hope said. ‘We should discuss what we’re going to tell them.’

Matt had no bitter remark about that. ‘I suppose we should,’ he said heavily.

‘I know they’re small, but they know something’s wrong and I haven’t known what to say,’ Hope confessed.

‘How about “I’ve got a new daddy for you”?’ rasped Matt.

Hope bit her lip again. This sort of stress could not be good for the baby. ‘That type of remark doesn’t help,’ she said far more calmly than she was feeling. ‘Should I get my lawyer to make the arrangements for you to see the children?’ she asked. Two could play that game.

Matt sounded shocked. ‘You have a lawyer?’

‘If you can’t be civil to me, it looks as if I’ll need one,’ she snapped. ‘Phone me when you’ve booked the hotel.’ She slammed the phone down and burst into tears.

‘I didn’t talk to Daddy,’ said Millie tearfully. ‘Did Daddy make you cry?’

‘No,’ wailed Hope. ‘Daddy is the best daddy in the world and he would never hurt Mummy.’

Instantly, Toby began to cry too, until the entire family were sobbing, huddled together at the bottom of the stairs.

‘I want Daddy!’ cried Millie.

‘I want a wee wee,’ cried Toby.

‘I want to turn the clock back,’ Hope sobbed.

Thereafter, Matt was ultra civil on the phone, as if he was speaking to a new client for the first time.

‘How are you?’ he’d say formally.

‘Very well,’ Hope would reply, feeling like a Jane Austen character on her best behaviour at an assembly.

In this way, they organized the trip for Saturday. Matt was going to stay in the Hotel Europe on the other side of Killarney, a welcoming family hotel with a huge indoor swimming pool and a riding stables with beautiful golden ponies to amuse the children.

‘Will you pack stuff for every eventuality?’ he asked Hope, for one minute sounding like the old Matt, the one who could never tell the difference between the children’s old dungarees for messing around in and good trousers that shouldn’t be let out in the mud.

‘Of course,’ Hope said humbly. It wasn’t his fault they were in this position. Maybe, a teeny bit his fault. But in the main, they were at a Mexican stand off because of her behaviour.

On Saturday, the children were ecstatic with excitement. Millie squealed a refrain of ‘Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!’ as Hope drove them and their baggage out to the Europe Hotel, feeling more and more tense with every mile.

This could be her big chance to make everything right. Perhaps Matt felt the same way. Perhaps he was waiting for her to apologize and he’d come home and it would all go back to being the same as before.

As she drove, Hope mentally practised what she’d say. ‘I’m so sorry, Matt. Nothing happened. It was all my fault, I should have never let him drive me home and I can completely understand why you didn’t believe me …’