Behind Every Cloud (58 page)

“
Have you ordered the wedding invitations yet?
”
Sandrine
enquired.

“
No. I have to show the samples to David. He
’
s been too busy to look at them this past week.
”

“
Honestly, you
’
re so disorganised,
”
her older sister complained.
“
It
’
s almost September already. You
’
ll really have to stop dragging your heels.
”

Ellie threw her eyes up to heaven.

“
And what about the hen weekend?
”
asked Sandrine.
“
I was thinking West Cork would be lovely.
”

Ellie sighed. Stuck with Sandrine in West Cork for a
weekend in December was not her idea of fun. She was thinking more of maybe a long weekend in Tenerife, brushing
up the tan.

“
We
’
ll think about that after Bordeaux. We still have plenty of time. I need to discuss it with all the girls.
”

Now it was Sandrine
’
s turn to sigh.

64

Ronan had seen the blog too – it had gone viral and was quite a topic of conversation in the pub.
He guessed it was Carl they were talking about. He realised that it was too late to have a talk with him now. Somebody was spilling the beans and he wondered if it was Louise who was the culprit. He would put nothing past her. Anyway, it was obviously out in the open now and he hoped to God it d
idn
’
t have a disastrous effect on Rachel. He was wonderi
ng whether she was home yet and whether she
’
d heard about the blog
when he saw the photograph of her and Carl arriving at Dublin Airport. She was trying to shield the children from a photographer
.
He looked closely at the photograph and saw the strain on Rachel
’
s face. Carl looked pretty frazzled too. What a change from the happy smiling photo in the newspapers just two weeks ago
!
He hoped Rachel would call him.

Rachel checked the blog every five minutes the following day
,
waiting to see what juicy details they would leak to the world about her husband and his mistress.

And then the photo appeared. She gasped when she saw it. No one would be left in any doubt now but that Carl was the NEP in question.

The photo was crystal clear. He was staring lovingly into the eyes of a woman, leaning across a table and stroking her face. It was the desire on his face that shocked Rachel most. The woman had her head turned at an angle away from the camera and she had short black hair. The whole of Dublin would recognise that it was not Rachel in the photo.

She sat there like a zombie, unable to move. She had no doubt Carl would see the photo fairly soon. One thing was for sure – this couldn
’
t be brushed under the carpet any longer. So this woman was the reason for his thoughtfulness and consideration while in France. She felt disgusted. And all those expensive presents he
’
d given her. Guilt gifts, she realised now. The bastard! She started to get angry. Why should she wait for him to make the first move? Attack is the best method of defence, her father had always said. She wouldn
’
t give Carl the chance to attack – she
’
d do it first. She texted him
:
Come home. We need to talk.

Carl knew the minute he got the text that the game was up.
He had just seen the latest blog with his photo in it. He had been trying to contact Zita to stop her, but now
he knew
that it couldn
’
t be her behind the blog. She couldn
’
t have taken that photo. Whoever had taken it was the culprit. But who could it be? Who hated him so much that they wanted to destroy him?

He rang his friend Stan, who was a whizz kid on computers
,
and asked him if he could find out who was behind it.

“
Yeah, shouldn
’
t be too difficult though some of these geezers are very clever. Hard luck
,
mate, getting caught like that.
”

“
I
’
ve got to stop any more photos appearing. I don
’
t want my wife to find out who the lady in question is. Please get back to me asap.
”

Whoever it was, Carl would make sure that he, or she, paid for what they
’
d done. With a heavy heart he drove home to Howth.

Rachel had sent Paloma out with the children and told Olga to take the day off so they wouldn
’
t witness the confrontation to come. She was calm and collected when she faced her husband but he could hear the steel in her voice.

“
Well, Carl, so you
’
ve been at it again,
”
she began, looking at him coldly.

“
It was nothing – meaningless, please believe me, Rachel.
”
He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes distraught.

“
Well, it wasn
’
t meaningless to me. Would you mind telling me who the lady in question is?
”

“
A nobody, honestly, just somebody I met at a function and we went on to dinner and you know how it is . . .
”
he finished lamely.

“
No
,
actually, I don
’
t know
how it is. And that
’
s an even bigger insult to me – a nobody is all you could manage.
”

Carl looked at her to see if she was serious. Would she have been happier if it had been someone famous or a beautiful model? Women! He
’
d never understand them!

“
Do you want to tell me her name and what exactly happened?
”

“
I don
’
t even remember and it was only the one night, I swear.
”

“
I see,
”
she said, feeling disgusted. A one-night stand!
“
Okay. Now I
’
d like you to go and stay somewhere else for a few days while I think this out.
”

“
Please
,
Rachel, let me explain . . .
”

“
Go now!
”
she shouted at him,
“
before I change my mind and throw you out straight away.
”

He went sheepishly and collected his night things and some changes
of clothes. With a last look at the house to see if she was watching, he drove his BMW down the drive.

He rang Stan to see if he had come up with anything.

“
Well, whoever it is, they
’
re
damn clever. They
’
re using a foreign proxy server so there
’
s no way of finding their IP address. It could take weeks and court orders and that
’
s still no guarantee that you
’
ll find out who
’
s behind this.
”

Carl was sweating profusely. What else did this person know? Somebody must hate him very much.

That night, he received a call from Bill, a reporter he knew on one of the tabloids.

“
Carl, just thought I
’
d let you know that we
’
re running the story of the Trouble in Paradise blog. Sorry, but once
they get wind of a politician doing something wrong, they
’
re on hi
m like a pack of dogs.
”

“
Can you not do anything to stop it?
”
Carl asked, perspiration breaking out on his forehead.

“’
Fraid not. All the tabloids are running with the story. Bad luck for you that it happens to be a bad news day. Just thought I
’
d let you know
,
to prepare you for the onslaught.
”

“
Thanks, Bill, I appreciate it.
”

Prepare for the onslaught? His photo splashed across those rags and paparazzi camped outside their front door! He was in a panic at the thought.

The following morning, he
bought the three daily tabloids. There in black and white on the front page, he read: Trouble in Paradise – Mystery blogger threatens to reveal all!

Rachel woke to find the paparazzi camped outside the front gate. Luckily the children hadn
’
t yet started back at school as she would not have been able to get past those hounds unscathed.
She rang her father to tell him.

“
Would you like me to come and collect you and the kids?
”
he asked.

“
No, I think it
’
s better to sit tight. I don
’
t want to disrupt Jacob and Becky
’
s routine
.”

“
Then just stay indoors. Those vermin will get tired of waiting when they see you
’
re not coming out or when another bigger story breaks,
”
he advised.

Her phone was hopping but she kept it on voicemail, unable to face talking to anyone. She suspected that they would be mostly media hounds looking for a comment. As a result she missed the concerned calls from both Ronan and Ellie.

Sitting looking out across Dublin Bay that evening she was very tempted to open a bottle of wine but she resisted the urge. Instead, she went for a long soak in the hot tub and wondered what tomorrow would bring.

65

Nothing could have prepared
Rachel for what she saw when she opened the blog the following morning
:
Mystery Woman Revealed.
And there in full view was a photo of Carl kissing a woman passionately on the mouth and in a second photo the woman was smiling sexily at him, her face revealed for all to see.
Rachel gasped and her hand flew to her face. There, smiling seductively, her eyes half-closed, was Zita.

Her head was spinning and her heart palpitating as she realised this was the
‘
nobody
’
Carl had said was just a one-night stand. Rachel
’
s fury knew no bounds. Jumping up she went into the bedroom and
,
grabbing his suits
,
she opened the window and flung them out into the garden. She followed them by his shirts, sweaters, trousers, shoes – everything that he possessed. By the time she
’
d finished there was not a trace of him left in the bedroom.

She then went down to the garage and threw his golf
clubs out on top of the pile. That would do for starters!

Then she rang her father and told him what she
’
d done and asked him to get his locksmith to come immediately a
nd change all the locks. This he did before driving straight to his daughter
’
s house. When he saw the photographers camped outside her gate, he was grateful for the gate
-
zapper
to her house that he kept in case of emergency. As he drove through the gate he knew they knew better than to follow him. It was private property and to do so would have landed them in trouble.

By the time Carl had seen the blog and driven out to Howth, he was not so lucky. The flash of the cameras almost blinded him as he drove in the gate.
“
Bloody bastard
s
!”
he spat out.

He knew at once when he saw the huge pile of his clothes and golf clubs on the driveway that nothing he could say would make any difference. He tried his key in the door and realised that she
’
d already changed the locks. His father-in-law
came out to meet him
.

“
Please remove your things from Rachel
’
s driveway and give me your
zapper for the gate,
”
he instructed him frostily
.