Woman to Woman (54 page)

Even if he did, she just had to have a drink of water. All the alcohol she’d consumed was taking its toll and she was madly thirsty. She took her dressing-gown off the hook on the door and went downstairs for a drink of water.

After draining the second glass, she refilled it and crept quietly into the downstairs toilet.

Aisling was amazed to find that she actually looked good.

She glowed. That was it. Her hair was tousled, her lipstick had been completely kissed off, her eyes were red-rimmed with rivulets of mascara under them and she felt very tired, but the face in the mirror shone back at her.

She’d done it. She’d broken the curse of Michael by sleeping with another man in their bed. Thank you so much, Sam, she whispered to her reflection.

When she slid carefully under the duvet, Sam grunted and moved till he was curled up against her, his body moulded to hers. He moaned again, wrapped one arm around her and nuzzled into her neck.

“All right?” he muttered sleepily.

“Wonderful,” she whispered back, cuddling into him happily.

“Wonderful.”

He woke her by kissing her gently, starting on her mouth and working his way down her neck until she opened her eyes groggily. This is your wake-up call, Aisling.” Sam moved further down her body to cup her full breasts in his hands.

“What time is it?” she asked, closing her eyes.

Twenty to two.”

Two! In the afternoon?” She shot up in the bed.

“The boys will be coming soon, you’ve got to go, Sam,” she said urgently.

“Relax.” His voice was amused. They’re not coming home until six, you told me that last night. So what’s the rush?”

“I know, but…” Aisling couldn’t explain her panic. Last night, it had been different. How could she explain that she .

wanted Sam out of the house because she felt guilty, as if she’d done something wrong. She wanted him out so she could sort out her muddled feelings, so she could wash up the glasses, change the sheets and rinse him off her body. The boys mustn’t see him yet, it was too soon.

“Please understand, Sam,” she began, “I’ve never done anything like this before and it feels strange. I can’t let the boys meet you yet. It would be too confusing for them, you must see that.”

“Did you enjoy last night?” he asked softly. His fingers played with her hair. He had the most amazing eyes.

“Of course …”

He stopped her words with a kiss, a gentle kiss which turned into a long, deep passionate one. Aisling couldn’t help responding. The stubble on his chin grazed the soft skin on her neck as he moved down to nuzzle her breasts.

“I love your breasts, Aisling,” he said huskily. She couldn’t resist him. He was so sexy and he seemed to know exactly how to turn her on. Before she knew it, they were wrapped up in the duvet, limbs intertwined as they made love.

“I’ll go at three. That’ll give you loads of time,” Sam murmured.

An hour later, she lay in the bath and watched him finish shaving. He splashed water on his face, dried it and looked at his reflection in the mirror, turning sideways to make sure he hadn’t missed a bit with her old razor. Satisfied with what he saw, Sam ran a comb through his hair before pulling on his shirt.

“I’ll see myself out he said and leaned down to caress one breast.

“God, you feel great. I want to drag you back to bed again.

But not that bed, of course.” He straightened up abruptly.

“It’s got to go, don’t you agree?”

“Why?” asked Aisling, completely at a loss to know what he meant.

“We can hardly make love in the bed you shared with your husband he replied in astonished tones.

“Oh. I see,” Aisling said, although she didn’t. Making love in Michael’s bed hadn’t worried him too much the night before.

But then, they’d both been so plastered that they could have been making love on O’Connell Bridge with a paying crowd watching.

“We could go shopping next weekend,” he said.

“We’ve got to get some decent booze as well. I’ve got a real taste for bourbon after living in the States.”

“Fine,” Aisling said automatically.

Sam leaned down and kissed her gently on the mouth, a lingering gentle kiss.

He blew her another kiss from the bathroom door.

“See you soon,” he said.

She heard him slam the front door and sank happily back into the bubbles. Who cared if he wanted a new bed or bourbon instead of whiskey? He was wonderful, he was crazy about her. Hell, he could redecorate the bedroom if he felt like it. Aisling closed her eyes and thought about Sam making love to her. She’d get up and tidy the house later.

“Well, how was dinner?” demanded Fiona, the moment Aisling picked up the phone.

“Where did you go? Tell me everything.”

“Everything?” asked Aisling innocently, trying not to burst with excitement.

“Sam arrived at just after half seven and he was wearing a blue shirt…”

“Bugger the blue shirt!” said Fiona in exasperation.

“How did you get on? Did he kiss you, did you kiss him, did you have mad, passionate sex to Ravel’s Bolero?”

Aisling snorted down the phone.

“The answers to those questions, in order, are, Marvellously, Yes. Yes and Yes although we didn’t have any music. You know I don’t have a stereo in the bedroom.”

“Aisling Moran,” shrieked Fiona.

“I don’t believe you. You slept with him? You didn’t, did you?” she asked, “Yes, I did. I know I’m a trollop but who cares, it felt absolutely wonderful and I’m glad I did sleep with him. Not that we got that much sleep …”

“Has he gone?” asked Fiona.

“Yes.”

“Right. Put the kettle on, I’m coming over. If you can walk into the kitchen without crutches, that is.”

“He’s very attractive, of course,” Fiona said five minutes later, as she. sat in Aisling’s kitchen and lit a cigarette.

“And let’s face it, straight, good-looking, single men are practically extinct in this country these days. Since you have me to thank for introducing you to him, I want all the juicy details. I mean all:

“Thank you, darling Fiona, for introducing me to him Aisling said with a giggle.

“I certainly owe you. Sam is a fantastic lover. Not that I have anything to compare him with,” she added.

“But it was wonderful. Three times, Fiona, three times. I’m exhausted.”

“You don’t look exhausted, Fiona remarked wryly.

“You look like they’ve turned a light on inside you.”

“I know. It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Aisling sat back in her chair with a practically untouched cup of coffee in one hand.

“We were awake till at least four and I should have a thumping great hangover after all we drank, but do you know what?” She grinned at Fiona.

“I feel fantastic. And different. I can’t explain it, but being with Sam, it was as if all this pressure that’s been building up inside me since Michael left was suddenly released, I could relax and let go. It was amazing.”

“You’re in love,” Fiona said with a laugh.

“No,” corrected Aisling.

“I’m not. I fancy Sam and he fancies me, but that’s not love. I don’t want to be in love again, not for a long time.” She was suddenly serious.

“Love is just trouble. If you love someone, they have the power to hurt you and I don’t want to go through that ever again.”

That’s perfectly understandable,” the other woman said.

“But don’t think you can control love, Aisling. You can’t.”

“I know that.” Aisling got up and filled up the kettle. The washing machine shuddered to a stop beside her, ending its final spin. She

really should hang out the clothes but she couldn’t be bothered. Tomorrow would do.

“Getting a job, losing weight and learning how to live on my own they were all important things, but no matter what I did, I was still tied to Michael,” Aisling explained.

“Now I’m not. I was tied to him even though he wasn’t tied to me. He’d escaped but I couldn’t. Sam helped me to escape.”

“When are you seeing him again?” Fiona asked.

“Next weekend, for dinner. He wanted to see me tomorrow but he’s got to go to Cork for the week. He’s ringing later.”

Fiona raised one eyebrow expressively.

“He’s keen.”

The last globule of cream squelched out of the piping bag onto the strawberry cheesecake. Aisling dumped the bag in the sink and carefully carried the plate over to the fridge.

Dizzy, the Coughlans’ fat black spaniel, watched Aisling’s every move, big brown eyes fixed on the woman who’d been cooking all sorts of delicious things in the kitchen all afternoon.

“No, you can’t have anything, Dizzy,” Aisling admonished the drooling dog.

“You’re on a diet.”

“I’m the one who should be on a diet wailed Rachel. She hurried into the kitchen wearing a pink candlewick dressing gown with a wet towel wrapped, turban-style, around her head.

Rachel was short, plump, very pretty and looked at least ten years younger than her husband, who had to be around forty-five. She was also very disorganised, as Aisling had found out when she arrived in the Coughlans’ kitchen a few hours earlier and started a lengthy search in hopelessly untidy cupboards for a large plate for the cheesecake.

The zip on my black crepe dress won’t close. I know I should have bought those tummy-flattener pants,” Rachel said miserably.

“Have I time to race off to Spar and get a pair of control tights, do you think?”

“You have the time,” Aisling said slowly, thinking of the calorie-laden meal she’d been preparing.

“But you’ll be awfully uncomfortable by the time you’ve eaten dinner if the dress is too tight in the first place.”

‘ “You’re right.” Rachel stomped over to the fridge and took out a bottle of white wine from the half-dozen on the bottom shelf.

“Oh, the cheesecake looks delicious.” she squealed as soon as she saw it.

“I can’t wait to try it. Let’s have a glass of wine, Aisling,” she wheedled.

“You’ve been busy all day and you need a break.”

Aisling had been working hard in Rachel’s huge old-fashioned kitchen for over two hours, slicing vegetables, finishing off the cheesecake she’d made at home and preparing the pheasant with apples and Calvados. She’d nearly gone mad making the fiddly timbales of smoked salmon with dill salad Rachel had wanted to impress her snooty American sister-in-law, Antonia.

“When she’s gone, I’ll tell everyone else that you cooked the meal. Antonia will want to leave early, she always does.

Doesn’t like spending too much time with her in-laws,” Rachel revealed.

“But I want to pretend that I did everything just to shut that cow up. Do you mind awfully?”

As long as you sneak my cards into everyone else’s pockets when they’re going Aisling replied, fishing several cream printed cards out of her handbag.

“Reservations” Why slave over the cooker when you can relax at your own dinner party? My team and I can cook you an exquisite, mouth-watering menu from fresh ingredients and you won’t have to lift a finger. Phone Aisling Moran for details.

This wasn’t strictly true. Aisling’s team was herself and herself and herself. Still, she could get help if she really needed it. Her mother had offered to give her a hand with desserts.

“This looks very impressive.” Rachel admired the rich creamy paper and the elegant copperplate lettering Aisling had picked in the printing shop.

She’d had a hundred made up and was now crossing her fingers that

they’d pay for themselves. She took a cautious sip of wine from the glass Rachel handed her. Catastrophic if she ruined her first dinner by getting tiddly with the hostess before the meal.

“Is there anything I can do?” Rachel sat down at the kitchen table and took a bottle of flamingo-pink nail varnish from her dressing-gown pocket.

“No thanks, you relax,” said Aisling quickly. She’d seen Rachel’s hopelessly untidy cupboards and the large collection of ready-made microwave able meals in the freezer. The other woman was obviously not a dab hand in the kitchen.

By half seven everything was ready. The guests were due, the pheasant was cooking gently in the oven, the damned timbales were perfect and even Rachel was ready, resplendent in an expensive-looking gold silk blouse, black trousers and plenty of gold jewellery.

Her daughter, Amy sixteen and pretty despite the sulky, expression on her face had been pressed into service to help serve the meal. Either Rachel had been around fifteen when she had Amy, or she used lots of miraculous wrinkle preventing eye cream, Aisling decided.

In a tattered pair of 501s, a skinny black polo neck that was turning grey, and black suede boots with stack heels, Amy looked like a younger, slimmer version of her mother.

“You could have dressed up, Amy.” Rachel marched into the kitchen to find her offspring enjoying a sneaky vodka tonic.

“You certainly shouldn’t be drinking. I said one glass of wine, if you remember. And those jeans are dreadful.”

Amy shot Rachel a venomous look.

“Don’t look at me like that, Madam,” started Rachel crossly.

Aisling knew that a row was brewing. Maybe I should ‘cook the stuff at home and just drive it over, she thought silently Maybe I should forget the idea of running a catering company at all.

The doorbell rang loudly. Row instantly forgotten, Rachel roared for her husband to answer the door and hurried out to welcome her guests.

It was eight by the time everyone was seated. Jim was on wine service and winked at Aisling when he rushed past her with two bottles of white and the corkscrew under his arm.

Rachel bustled back into the kitchen to help Amy carry in the twelve plates.

“I don’t want Antonia to see you she whispered to Aisling.

Aisling was grateful that she didn’t have to go in and serve the guests. Cooking a meal and looking fresh as a daisy when serving it, simply wasn’t possible. Her grey T-shirt was damp with sweat and her hair had flopped in the heat of the kitchen, strands stuck to her forehead. She longed for a long warm bath, a nice book and a glass of sweet white wine.

But it would be at least half ten when she got home and she knew that she’d barely have the energy to slump onto the settee and watch some mindless rubbish before going to bed.