Behind Every Cloud (56 page)

60

Ellie and David had just had another huge row on the phone. After he
’
d hung up, she sat thinking about their relationship and how it had changed lately. Her parents were out and she was sitting in front of the TV alone, looking at it but not really seeing it. She felt miserable. This was not how things were meant to be. She and David s
eemed to be drawing further away from each other inst
ead of closer together.

It was three weeks since they
’
d made love because David had claimed to be too tired the last couple of times they
’
d spent the night together. If this was how it was now, what would it be like when they were married for a couple of years? Suddenly, she became very afraid. Were they making a huge mistake? Was David having second thoughts? He seemed to be constantly in bad form whenever they were together.
He was not the same man he
’
d been when
she had agreed to marry him. She blamed his job at Buckley Steadman for this. He had started to change from the time he went to work for them. He i
dolised Frank Buckley and seemed to be modelling
himself on him. Lord forbid that he would turn out like him
!
For the first time Ellie wondered if they were really suited to each other at all.

Everything was pretty much set for the wedding now a
nd Ellie had been looking forward to relaxing and enjoying the weekends with David, now that she wasn
’
t rushin
g around organising everything.

“
Why don
’
t we go away for the weekend?
”
she
’
d suggeste
d
when he rang her the previous week
.

“
Sorry, Ellie, I can
’
t. I have to work this weekend.
”

“
Well, maybe we could just go down to Wicklow on Saturday night and stay over
.”

“
Ellie, you
’
re not listening. I have to work. I
’
ve been given an important new client and this is my chance to prove myself.
”

She flinched at the irritation in his voice.

She
’
d let it go, disappointed as the forecast for the w
eekend was for glorious weather and Wicklow was beautiful at this time of year. So instead they
’
d stayed in Dublin
,
and what a disaster the weekend had turned out to be! David had gone out with the guys as usual on Friday night. She wondered why work hadn
’
t interfered with that
weekly outing. He
’
d had to work all day Saturday and claimed he would have been too tired to see her that night. The only time she
’
d seen him was when he took her to brunch in Kitty
’
s, on Sunday, with all the gang f
rom his work. Even then, they
’
d hardly spent five minutes in each other’s company. She watched him laughing and joking with the guys and wished that they could have been somewhere alone together. Directly afterwards, David put her in a taxi, saying he was going back to
the office to work.

“
Will I see you tonight?
”
she
’
d asked him as he
’
d kissed her goodbye.

“
Ellie, for God
’
s sake, give me a break!
”

His words had stung her and she
’
d felt very hurt. She
’
d had to steel herself to hold back the tears and not let him see her cry.

And now on the phone when she
’
d suggested that they go somewhere, just the two of them, for the following weekend he
’
d replied,
“
Oh, sorry Ellie, I meant to tell you, I
’
ve promised to join Will and the guys for a golfing weekend in
Wexford. Maybe the weekend after?
”

She didn
’
t think it unreasonable to be annoyed that he hadn
’
t remembered to tell her
,
but he seemingly did
,
and so they
’
d had another blazing row.
Now, as she thought about their relationship, she began to feel very afraid. She d
idn
’
t know how to make things better. David had become
a stranger and suddenly she was fearful of what the future held. She was glad now that she had agreed to go to Bordeaux with her mother. Maybe the time away from each other would improve things between her and David.

61

Kathleen O
’
Sullivan was scrolling down her Twitter messages when one in particular caught her eye. It was from @politicalscandals and it had a link to a blog Trouble in Paradise. Curious, she opened it and
what she read made her very uneasy indeed
.

Kathleen had spent forty years working as a cook for Rachel
’
s mother, Mrs Stewart.
Now in her eighties, she was more or less confined to the house due to ill-health.
Her main contact with the outside world, besides her television, was the computer that her son
,
Donal, had given her one Christmas. Every single day she blessed him as she surfed the internet, emailed her friends, skyped her children and grandchildren and tweeted. She
’
d made lots of friends on Twitter and was gaining new followers every day. It was wonderful! She was following all kinds of interesting people, even famous ones. She lived alone but Twitter made her feel like she had company all the time.

It had taken her a little while to get the hang of it but
,
though her body was frail, her brain was as sharp as ever. She
’
d had help, of course, from the local convent school. Their students had taken part in a scheme to help the elderly master computers
,
and the lovely youngster who came to Kathleen once a week had been a great teacher. That had been a godsend! She still popped in from time to time to see how Kathleen was getting on and followed her on Twitter too.

Now as she read the blog she had a suspicion that the politician in question was Rachel
’
s husband Carl. All the other newly elected politicians in North Dublin were older and certainly couldn
’
t be called handsome. Besides, Mrs Stewart had visited Kathleen last week and mentioned
that Rachel and Carl were holidaying in the south of France.

Kathleen hoped she was wrong and sat for a time
,
pondering what she should do. She decided to wait until Donal came in and ask him for his advice. He was home on holiday from Australia where he was a detective in the police force in Adelaide. He would know what she should do. When he arrived back that evening she showed him the blog and told him of her suspicions. His advice was to call Rachel
’
s mother and mention it to her.

“
Whether it is lies or not, I think Rachel should be made aware of it.
”

“
I fervently hope it is lies,
”
his mother said vehemently. She shook her head sadly.
“
Carl seems such a genuine bloke. Just goes to show, it
’
s true what they say, you can never trust a politician!
”

It was obvious to Donal that she believed the story to be true.

“
You remember Rachel, don
’
t you?
”
she asked him as she picked up the phone to call Mrs Stewart.

“
I remember a beautiful little girl with white blonde hair and dark
-
brown eyes who always wanted to chat with me whenever I went to collect you.
I remember thinking that she was very lonely.
”

“
Yes, well, you should see what a beauty she is now
–”
K
athleen broke off as Rachel
’
s mother answered the phone
.

Meanwhile
,
on the Côte d
’
Azur, Carl was oblivious of the
events unfolding in Dublin. It had been a wonderful holida
y and he felt that he and Rachel were in a much better place than when they
’
d arrived.

Rachel, for her part, had had a wonderful holiday and she couldn
’
t fault his behaviour
,
but at the back of her
mind was the thought that he was trying too hard. He was s
o attentive to her every need that she feared it only confirmed that he was guilty of wrongdoing
.
However,
they
’
d had a long talk and Carl had promised her sincerely that things would change when they got back home.

They were enjoying their second-last day in this idyllic place when Rachel got a call from her father
.

“
Rachel
,
honey, I don
’
t know whether I should tell you this or not but I
’
ve heard something and I think you should know about it. Maybe it
’
s all a load of rubbish. I hope so but anyway . . .
”
He paused, trying to find the right words.

Rachel knew that something really bad was about to happen.

“
Well, Kathleen rang your mother this morning . . .
”

Rachel could sense her father
’
s distress.
“
Go on, Dad!
”

“
Well, she said there is some kind of message on Twitter about a blog
–
Trouble in Paradise
,
she said
it
’
s called. Anyway, Kathleen
seems concerned that it may be associated with you and Carl. Maybe she
’
s wrong – I don
’
t understand all this Twitter and blog stuff – but maybe you can check it out.
”

Rachel felt fear clutch her heart. Her blood felt like it was running cold through her body.

“
Okay, Dad, I will.
”

“
Listen, Princess, even if it is about Carl, you
’
ll survive it. Maybe it
’
s all lies. Let me know what happens and I
’
ll fly out there tonight if you want.
”

“
Thanks, Dad. I will. I
’
ll check it out this minute.
”

She hung up and Googled the blogsite Trouble in Paradise. Her eyes blurred as she read down through it and her heart raced uncontrollably.

‘
One of our newly
elected politicians from north Dublin, who is holidaying in the South of France with his beautiful wife at the moment, also
has a mistress tucked away back home
.
Does his wife know? No prizes for guessing who the handsome young politician in question might be
!’

There it was in black and white. The thing she
’
d suspected and feared. There was no question that it was Carl the blog alluded to. There was no other
‘
young, handsome
’
politician in North Dublin. No wonder Kathleen had immediately jumped to the conclusion that the blog concerned Carl. Rachel closed her eyes and grabbed the table to steady herself, afraid she might faint. She took a deep breath and sat down. She wondered who the woman in question was.
No doubt that information would come out over the next few days. That was the way these things worked – teasing and tantalising until the whole country was agog to know the gory details.

Her instinct had been right, as always
.
She rang her father back. In a weary voice she told him that she
’
d read the article.

“
It
’
s about Carl alright. As I suspected, he
’
s been having an affair which is why he
’
s never
been home lately. It
’
s no surprise really.
”