Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) (24 page)

Rosie quickly closed her eyes, covered her face with her hands and let out a terrified yelp.

“Rosie? Are you all right?”

A blast of cool air rushed in from somewhere and then she heard Stephen chuckling softly.

Slowly, she took her hands away from her face, and glanced towards the open passenger door.  Then, even more slowly, she turned her head to look at him and as she did, a feeling of immense relief rushed through her.

He was still laughing, his big body shaking with amusement. “Rosie, you are an absolute tonic,” he said, his eyes sparkling in the darkness.  “Did you honestly think I was going to kidnap you, or something?”

Rosie was mortified. “Of course not,” she said. “I just got a bit of a fright, that’s all.”

“I see,” Stephen was nodding his head exaggeratedly. “And was it just myself, or do you threaten every man that offers you a lift home with a gun?” he added, in a teasing way that suggested he knew all along she’d made it up.

She bit her lip, now feeling very silly. “No, not every man,” she admitted apologetically.  Then she turned to face him. “I’m very sorry, Stephen – I really don’t know what came over me.  Here you were good enough to offer me a lift home, and here I was thinking all these terrible things about you and I got a bit carried away and –”

He waved her away.  “Look, I don’t blame you – and with the way things are these days, you’re probably right to be concerned.  But Rosie, we’ve known each other for a few weeks now, and I think you’re a lovely person, and … well, look, I’m not sure if I’ve any right to say it, but I thought we were friends.”

She smiled at him, thinking again how stupid she was to believe he might do her harm.  Not when he’d spent all that extra time in the class making sure she’d do well!

“You’re right, Stephen, and I don’t know why I’m behaving like this.  Of course, I know you’re a lovely fellow and … oh, I don’t know, it’s stupid really, but since Martin – my husband – died, I feel a bit like a rowing boat with only one oar.” She sighed. “I relied on him for so much and …oh, I know it’s pathetic, but sometimes, I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”

“No, it’s not pathetic,” he insisted in a tone that suggested he knew exactly where she was coming from. “Still, I must admit I wasn’t altogether sure you
didn’t
have a gun in there either!” he added, laughing again.  “With women these days you just never know!”

“Sorry.” Rosie felt really silly now.  “Well, look,” she said, “I’ve delayed you enough and we’ve both had enough excitement for one night, so –”

“Is the house far?”

“Just a little further down and around the corner,” Rosie admitted.  “But I’ll be grand from here, honestly.”

“Don’t be silly – I’ll run you down.  I have to go and turn the car anyway.  Close the door.”

“All right so,” Rosie sat back in and closed the passenger door, not wanting to cause any more fuss.

Seconds later, he pulled up outside her front gate. The light in the living-room was on which meant that David was still up.  Rosie sighed inwardly.

“Someone waiting up for you?” Stephen enquired.

Rosie nodded. “My son lives with me now.”

“Oh right.” Stephen was silent for a moment. “It can be hard going sometimes, can’t it?” again suggesting he knew what he was talking about.  “I had my daughter and her husband live with me for just a few months recently while they were waiting to move into their new house. As much as I love Miriam, it was tough going.  We clash a lot and Mary, my wife, used to say it was because the two of us were so bloody alike.” He smiled, as if remembering. “I suppose she was right, in a way.  But it was a bit of a
nightmare and, really, I thought the day would never come when they would move out so that my life could get back to normal.”

Rosie nodded, understanding the feeling perfectly.  “David moved home recently after living ten years in Liverpool.  He split up with his wife,” she added, strangely relieved that someone understood that it wasn’t necessarily all fun and games having your adult son back living under your roof. 

Sometimes, she felt really guilty for admitting to herself that the situation wasn’t ideal, and indeed, believed herself to be a bad mother for wishing that David had never come back to stay with her.  Before his return, she’d been quite happy with her life, her independence and her own little ways.  Now, it was all this tiptoeing around, trying not to put him out, while all the time painfully aware that he was unconcerned about putting her out – quite the opposite.

Stephen must have seen most of this written on her face. “God knows we do our best for them growing up, and they don’t all necessarily return the favour,” he said.  “But at the same time, it doesn’t mean they don’t care either,” he added softly.

Rosie nodded, deciding she’d better go in, or she’d keep him here all night talking about it.  But she was glad they’d had the opportunity to have this little chat.  Stephen understood her situation, probably better than she understood it herself.  Knowing this made her feel much better about it all. 

“I should go and let you get home,” she said, smiling shyly at him.  “Are you living in Dublin?”

“No, no, I’m only out in Brittas,” he said, referring to the popular coastal beauty spot not far from Wicklow town.   “I have one of those nice houses that look out over the sea – ideal for practicing my watercolours.” He grinned.  “That’s how I started actually. For years I lived with these fantastic views and then when I retired I decided I’d have a crack at preserving them forever on canvas.”

Rosie sighed.  “I’d say that would be fabulous, painting down there by the sea,” she said.  “Aren’t you lucky? I’d love a go at that real-life stuff.” Then she grinned.  “Sure, maybe by the time you’re finished teaching me, I might be able to!”

He laughed.  “No bother to you!  And look, if you’re ever down my direction and you’d like to try it, give me a shout and I’ll show you the kind of stuff I’ve done.”

Rosie smiled, gratified by the invitation but fairly sure she’d never accept it. 

“Although, if things go well, I won’t be there for too much longer,” Stephen said then.  When she looked at him inquisitively, he added. “The place is up for sale.  It’s much too big for me, now that the family have all moved out and apparently it’s in such a good location, it’ll fetch an indecent price, or so the estate agent tells me.”

Rosie nodded wryly.  “I can imagine.”

“So, I’m going to take whatever money I get from it and put it towards a nice place on the Atlantic coast, down Kerry way, probably,” he said. “I’ve always loved it down there and, as you know yourself anywhere near the city can get a bit hectic after a while, what with all the traffic and everything.”

Rosie nodded, understanding.

“So I thought slowing down, taking it easy and painting the landscape in a nice quiet spot would be as good a way as any to spend the rest of my days.”

Rosie shook her head.  That sounded like absolute bliss.  She didn’t know why she didn’t think of doing something like that herself – maybe move back home to Clare.  But, she
supposed, because David was here and her daughter and granddaughter were living in Dublin, she wanted to be close, to be there should her family need her. But did her family need her?  Did they care where she lived or if she was around for them? 

Still, it was a bit late now to be thinking of upping off back home to Clare, not when the house was entangled in Sophie’s mortgage and all that, not to mention David living with her too. 

No, she was well and truly stuck here now whether she liked it or not.  And of course, Rosie did like it, in fact, she loved living in Wicklow, but she wondered if she were really free to make such a decision, would she move back home, back home to Clare, where her heart still lay? 

Rosie didn’t know.  All she did know was that there was no point in wishful thinking.  What was done was done and she had to live with it. 

“Well, good luck with the sale,” she said to Stephen.  “And thanks again for giving me a lift home.”

“No problem at all,” he replied. “And I’d love to say it was a pleasure, but being threatened by a madwoman with a gun isn’t a pleasurable experience for anyone, I’d say!” He laughed again.  “All the best, Rosie – I’ll see you next week?”

“You will,” she replied, getting out and closing the door behind her. 

Then, she walked up her front path.

As she put her key in the door and watched the taillights of his car move away in the distance, Rosie realised she had made a new friend.

The following Monday morning, Dara was late for work.  The train had been delayed, and as a result, so were the long-suffering rail commuters of the East Coast.

Grrr!
At times like this she was half-tempted to go back to using a car, but she knew her nerves just wouldn’t be able to take it.  Anyway, over the weekend, she and Mark had gone to the first of what she expected would be many house viewings over the coming weeks – if not months – and if they got something near the new tramline, as was their intention, she might not need to travel on this train for much longer.

Getting out at Pearse Street Station, she tried to steal a march on some of her fellow harried travellers by taking the steps down to the street two at a time. 

She made it to the office a full half-hour late, but instead of teasing her about her lateness like she usually did, Ruth simply eyed her enquiringly and smiled one of her annoying self-satisfied smiles.

“What are you staring at …?” The rest of her sentence trailed off as just behind Ruth, Dara caught sight of her desk.  She gasped.  There sitting on top of her books, papers, stationery etc was an immense bunch of lilies – dragon lilies, her favourite.  The bouquet was so huge it hid most of the desktop. 

Instantly, her throat went dry.  As far as she was aware there was only one person who knew those flowers were her favourite, and that person was –

“And you tell me Mark isn’t romantic?” Ruth sighed dreamily.  “But what’s the occasion, Dara?  I thought it might be an anniversary or something, but it hasn’t been that long since the wedding, has it?”

Her tongue felt like sandpaper. “No – no, it’s nothing like that.”

“Well, go on!” Ruth urged cheerfully. “Tell me all, or if you don’t know what you’ve done to deserve such an incredible bouquet, then at least open the card and put both of us out of our misery!”

“Um, I don’t have time now,” Dara muttered uncomfortably. “I’ll have a look later.” She set down her briefcase, and went behind her desk.

Ruth’s eyes widened. “What? Are you serious? How can you
not
look? Come on, please – for me?” She continued to plead in that silly child-like tone she often used to get round people. “Please?”

Dara bit her lip.  Shit, she might as well bite the bullet. They were just flowers after all, and who was to say they
weren’t
from Mark, or even from a client?  The fact they happened to be her favourite blossoms was probably pure coincidence.  She tentatively opened the envelope and slowly removed the gift card.  There was no reason for her to automatically assume that they were from … oh God, they were.

Followed by his mobile number.

Oh, great, she thought, just great.  That was all she needed.  Just when she’d tried to put that lunch – that conversation – out of her mind, he goes and does this.  And, even more disconcertingly, the fact he’d included his mobile number meant she would have to make contact in order to thank him for the flowers . . . wouldn’t she? And then … who knew what could happen then?

Nevertheless, deep down, she couldn’t help but experience a tiny frisson of anticipation, but discarded the feeling almost as soon as it reared itself.

“What’s the matter?” Ruth enquired.  “What did he say? Oh, no, please don’t tell me you two had a fight or something, and now he’s trying to make it up to you?  How annoyingly romantic! I must slag him about it next time he rings and –”

“Ruth!” Dara hissed quietly.  She motioned her closer. God, Ruth’s voice was so loud, the entire first floor would know about it!

“What?” Ruth seemed hurt.

“Listen,” Dara gave her a meaningful glance, and dropped her voice to low whisper, “these aren’t from Mark – they’re from Noah.”

Now, Ruth’s eyes were out on stalks.  “Noah? You mean
the
Noah!”

“Yes,” Dara replied through gritted teeth. “So, please stop proclaiming to all and sundry about how romantic my husband is!”

She hadn’t told Ruth about Noah’s recent re-appearance in her life.  She hadn’t been able tell anyone.  She was too busy trying to come to terms with it in her own head, and also trying to forget about it, so she could concentrate on the here and now.  If Ruth knew about her lunch with Noah, or more importantly what he had said at that lunch, she would never leave it alone. 

“But, but …” For once, Ruth seemed lost for words.

“We’ll talk about it later, OK?” Dara promptly lifted the bouquet off her desk and sat it down on the ground alongside her.  Then, and with a final look that brooked no argument, she turned away from Ruth and began to boot up her PC.

“OK.” By Dara’s resolute expression, Ruth knew she wouldn’t much get more out of her.

Finally, when one o’clock came around, and they were comfortably seated nearby in a different café to the one she had visited with Noah – Dara had made sure of it – Ruth heard all.

“I bumped into him recently.  We had lunch,” Dara informed her.

Ruth was aghast. “You bumped into the love of your life and you never told me?  How could you keep something like that from me? How could you not tell me?”

“He’s not the love of my life anymore,” Dara replied, trying to convince herself more than Ruth. “I have Mark now.”

“But what happened? What did he say?” Ruth couldn’t get the questions out fast enough. “How did he look? Was he really that annoyed about the wedding dress thing? Is he definitely married himself? Did he tell you what happened after he left?”

Dara nodded ruefully. “You could say that.”  She went on then to put Ruth out of her misery and filled her in on most of what Noah had said, carefully omitting the part where he admitted he wanted to see her again. 

When she had finished, Ruth just stared in disbelief.  “But … but . . .” For the second time that day, she was tongue-tied.  “But Dara, what are you going to
do
?”

Dara looked at her puzzled. “What am I going to do? What
can
I do?”

“But he’s getting divorced!” Ruth declared as if the answer was obvious. “He admitted that leaving you was a mistake! He admitted he had feelings for you for ages afterwards
and obviously he still cares about you.  Now he’s come back to you.  Dara, he really
was
The One!” Ruth’s idealistic heart was struck by the drama of it all, struck by the fact that Dara’s one true love had indeed returned to her. But she’d missed one very important fact.

“Maybe,” Dara said quietly. “But I’m married now, Ruth. I’m married to Mark.”

“But you admitted yourself that it isn’t perfect! You told me not so long ago that you were only marrying him because he was the closest you’d ever found to Noah.  But Noah’s back – the real thing is back! And from what you’ve told me, he wants
you
back!”

“Ruth, we’re talking about a person’s feelings here, not to mention an actual
marriage
.  I took my vows and made promises to Mark.  I’m bound to him, not only by law but lots of other ways too. I can’t just walk away from that.”

“But if Noah is really the one for you … and now he’s come back into your life.” Ruth’s romantic self couldn’t understand it. “It has to be fate, doesn’t it?”

Dara sighed.  Initially she had thought the same thing.  Fate – was it unavoidable? “It’s not that simple. OK, I’ll admit there was definitely still … something there, but who knows?  Noah and I are very different people now, and we’ve been out of one another’s lives for years. Who’s the say that he really is the one for me?” But even as she said the words, she didn’t believe them herself.  Of course Noah was The One – there had never really been any other, had there?  But she did love Mark, just not in the same way and –

“I suppose,” said Ruth, finally coming down from her romantic high and beginning to see sense. 

The two women were silent for a while, both lost in their own thoughts.

Eventually, Ruth sighed dramatically.  “Do you know, it’s so bloody annoying!” she said, shaking her head. “You’re like one of those really weird women who don’t like chocolate!”

“I’m like what?”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “You’re a bitch – and I’m jealous!  There you are with two fabulous men fighting over you, and in my entire life I’ve never even come across one! Although,” she added grudgingly, “the fact that you are a hell of a lot better-looking than me probably explains it.”

Despite herself, Dara had to smile.  “Don’t be silly.  And they’re not fighting over me –there’s no fighting to be done.”

Her friend didn’t reply.  She simply continued eating the remainder of her salad, all the time humming an annoying tune that sounded suspiciously like that dreadful song ‘Torn Between Two Lovers’.

Dara groaned. “Ruth, come off it! I’m not torn between anyone – do you hear me?”

To her frustration, Ruth kept on humming.

“I missed my chance with Noah and I’m married to Mark now,” Dara persisted. “End of story, OK?”

End of story?

She certainly hoped so.

******

But of course it wasn’t.   Over the following weeks Noah began to phone her at work on a regular basis, asking her out to lunch or to meet with him again.   When at first she refused, he got round her by insisting there was more he needed to say.   She knew it was wrong and very dangerous, but she found it impossible to say no.   Noah had once been a major part of her life and a very good friend at that.  How could she
not
see him?

And maybe it wasn’t – like Ruth insisted – that he was trying to win her back.  Maybe he just wanted to be friends, to take up where the friendship left off, rather than the romance?

And despite her best intentions, there was a side of her that enjoyed seeing Noah’s number come up on her caller display, in the same way that she now feared Mark’s.  She wasn’t doing anything wrong, yet somehow it felt as though she was. 

“Why do I feel so guilty?” she asked Ruth one afternoon, before leaving to meet Noah for lunch yet again.

“Why
shouldn’t
you?” Ruth offered artlessly. “Be honest, you’re not meeting with Noah to talk about how wonderful Mark is, are you?”

“We do talk about Mark,” Dara replied, ashamed, “but most of the time we talk about old friends, old times, things like that.”

And they did.  She’d met him twice over the last week and they had great fun going over the past, catching up some more and talking about what had happened to all the gang since. 

“It’s all harmless,” she added for Ruth’s benefit.

“Perhaps,” Ruth was unmoved, “but where does it stop?  What happens when you run out of things to talk about?  Where does that leave you then?  On dangerous ground, that’s what I say.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Dara said, exasperated at Ruth’s quick turnaround and unable to deny her own guilty feelings about the situation.  “Not long ago, you were trying to talk me into dumping Mark and riding off into the sunset with Noah.  Now you’re looking at me with that disapproving face of yours!  Which is it?”

“I just think you should be true to yourself, and stop trying to pretend these lunches don’t mean anything.  Of course they mean something.  And you have to decide what it is you want.  You can’t keep meeting Noah behind Mark’s back like this.  You should either tell Noah to back off for a while, while you try and come to terms with how you feel, or tell Mark straight out what’s happened and that things aren’t right.   If you keep on going the way you are, you’ll do something you regret., Dara.” Giving her friend a steadfast look, Ruth continued.  “This is serious shit.  OK, I’ll admit I was a bit flippant about it all at the beginning – but not any more.  Think about it.  You told me this guy was the love of your life.  You admitted that Mark was second, a close second mind you, but still second.  Now, Noah’s back in your life and he happens to be free. But you’re not. Try and remember that.”

“I do remember that!” Dara cried, stung.  “I’ve been telling you that from the beginning! I’ve spent every spare second of the last few weeks remembering that!  Why do you think I’m so behind on my cases?  Why do you think I’ve passed over so much work to Nigel? Because I can’t concentrate on anything else, that’s why!”

“You have to make a decision,” Ruth said stoutly. “And you have to make it soon.”

“But I can’t just walk away from Mark,” Dara said gently. “Even if I wanted to.  It’s not that simple.” She hung her head. “And I know it sounds pathetic and selfish, but I do love him too. I can’t just up and leave.  I don’t want to hurt him.”

“If you carry on the way you’re going you’ll end up hurting him anyway.  It’s a catch twenty-two, Dara.  Much as I joke about wishing to be in your situation, I don’t think I would enjoy it that much all the same.”  She sighed. “Look, why don’t you take some time to yourself for awhile, go home to your parents for a few days or something, get your head together?”

“I can’t. What’ll Mark say?  What if he suspects something?”

“Dara, I’d be very surprised if he didn’t suspect something already.  You’re bad enough here, going around with your head in the clouds, or who knows where else.  I’m sure he’s noticed it too.”

Mark had noticed something.  Only the other day he’d passed comment on Dara’s increasingly changeable moods. 

“I know work is busy,” he’d said, when Dara had snapped at him over something stupid.  “But whatever’s going on, either tell me what it is, or leave it at the office.  Don’t start taking it out on me.” 

It was very rare for Mark to get irritable like that and Dara was unprepared for it.  “Oh, so it’s all right for you to come home and bang on about strained hamstrings and swollen cartilages, is it? Yet, when
I
have a bad day –”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t talk about work,” Mark said, gritting his teeth. “Actually, I’m saying that you
should.
  A problem shared and all that. So what’s the problem now?”

“The problem is that I’ve got enough on my mind without listening to you whining on at me.  I’m in a bad mood, OK?  Get over it!”

“What is
wrong
with you?  You’ve been going around like a cat on a hot tin roof these last few weeks.  Look, I know you have a lot on your plate with all these new cases coming up, but is there something else on your mind, Dara?  ‘Cos if there is, just spit it out, will you? I don’t have time for all these deep sighs and slamming doors.  It’s bloody childish and I won’t stand for it!”

“What? I don’t slam doors! And what do you mean you won’t stand for it?  What are you going to do?”

“Oh, grow up, Dara!” Mark’s tone brooked no argument, and despite her own annoyance, she was faintly shocked at his determination.  He rarely faced her down like this.

Almost instantly, she relented.  He was right. She wasn’t being fair carrying on like this.  Mark had no idea what was going on in her head. But, in fairness, she couldn’t exactly tell him, could she?

“I’m sorry,” she admitted eventually. “I have a few things on my mind, that’s all.” That was a truth of sorts, wasn’t it? “And it seems that every second client I speak to lately has some reason to have a go at me.”

“Just try not to let it get to you, OK?” he said, kissing her softly on the head. “There’s more to life than work, you know.”

“I know,” Dara replied, feeling even worse now that he was being so understanding. 

But the fact that Mark
had
noticed something made her feel even more guilty and Ruth had hit the nail on the head by saying she’d end up hurting him no matter what she did.

“Dara, you’re concerned about other people’s lives here,” Ruth said now. “But think about what’s important in yours.  If you really feel that Noah is the one for you and he feels the same way, then you have to think seriously about that.  What’s the point in staying in the marriage for the sake of it?  You don’t have any kids to think about – yet – and I know you do love Mark, but it’s not the same, is it?”