Better Together (33 page)

The conference room wasn’t anything of the sort. It was just a small office off the open-plan area, with a table and six chairs around it. Shimmy had told her it was where they had strategy meetings, but since Sheridan had started work there had never been a strategy meeting. There hadn’t been formal meetings of any sort, just chats around DJ’s desk. She sat on one of the high-backed chairs. The table, she noticed, was marked by the rings of hot cups that had been placed directly on to the polished wood. There had been a table just like it at the
City Scope
.

‘What the hell is all this about?’ DJ didn’t bother with niceties, and although his voice was low, it was angry.

Sheridan said nothing.

‘I get a call from Paudie O’Malley last night,’ said DJ, ‘while I’m stretched out on the sofa watching the telly, enjoying my Sunday evening at home. And he tells me that my temporary employee is investigating him. Investigating him! What in God’s name are you playing at?’

‘I’m not investigating him,’ lied Sheridan. ‘I just . . . I wanted to find out more about him.’

‘Why?’

‘He’s a very interesting man.’

‘So you turned up at his house and pretended to be a taxi driver?’ DJ looked at her in bemusement. ‘What on earth were you thinking?’

‘I didn’t pretend to be anyone,’ protested Sheridan. ‘Sinead made a mistake. I tried to correct her, but she was busy and—’

‘But why go there in the first place? If you weren’t planning to “investigate” him?’

‘I was driving past. The gates were open. It seemed like a good idea to go in.’

‘How could it possibly . . .?’ DJ looked truly bewildered. ‘I don’t understand your apparent obsession with the man.’

‘It’s not an obsession. It’s simply that he’s mega-rich and mega-reclusive and he owns this paper, so I’m interested in him.’

‘In that case, why not ask me whatever you wanted to know?’

Sheridan looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m not sure.’

‘You’ve put me in an extremely awkward position,’ said DJ.
‘Paudie wasn’t one bit happy with what happened. Nor am I. I don’t see why you felt the need to sneak around spying on him. You already checked him out before you came here – you said so.’

‘Yes, but it’s not the same as meeting a person.’

‘You want to meet him?’ DJ’s eyes glinted. ‘That can be arranged!’

‘I’m sorry if I caused trouble for you . . .’

‘He wants to know why I employed you. If you’re a spy.’

‘A spy!’ She laughed and then stopped herself. ‘What sort of spy could I possibly be?’

‘When you’re a man in Paudie’s position, there could be any number of reasons for people wanting to know more about your life. He’s a private person.’

‘A private person who’s very wealthy and who controls a chunk of the media industry. Which means he’s able to stay private.’

‘That’s not a bad thing.’

‘But where are the checks and balances on his businesses?’ asked Sheridan. ‘Most of them aren’t publicly quoted companies, so he can do what he likes.’

‘That’s his prerogative.’

‘It shouldn’t be,’ she said. ‘That’s how we ended up in recession before. Businessmen doing whatever they liked and thinking they shouldn’t be questioned about their decisions.’

‘And is there a decision you want to question him about?’ asked DJ. ‘Your position on the
City Scope
, for example?’

‘You know I was gutted when I lost my job,’ said Sheridan. ‘I wasn’t planning to quiz him about it, though. I wasn’t planning to ask him to give it back to me.’

‘Just as well. I’m not sure how he feels about having you on the payroll here, either.’

Sheridan said nothing.

‘This is a small town,’ said DJ. ‘You can’t go around upsetting people.’

‘Hey, I haven’t upset anyone in the town!’ she cried. ‘I’ve pissed off the owner of the paper, which, I agree, is probably not a good move on my part. I knew that even when I was there. It was a mistake. But that doesn’t mean he should fire me. Does it?’ She looked anxiously at DJ.

‘If you’d prowled around the home of the editor of the
City Scope
, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have been too happy with you either,’ said DJ.

‘I know. I know.’

‘Paudie wanted to know more about you. So I told him.’

‘Told him what?’

‘That you’d been a great reporter on the
City Scope
. He was surprised to hear that you’d worked there.’

‘Did you say that it was all his fault I was given the boot?’

‘I said you weren’t happy about it.’

‘Thanks.’ She made a face. ‘Now he probably thinks I’m some nutter hell-bent on retribution.’

‘A bit,’ agreed DJ.

‘Can’t blame him, I suppose. Can’t blame him for wanting to get rid of me again, either.’

‘Paudie doesn’t hire and fire on the
Central News
,’ said DJ. ‘I do.’

‘Are you going to fire me?’ asked Sheridan.

‘I was very tempted to last night,’ replied DJ.

‘And this morning?’

He sighed. ‘I like you. You’re a good writer. You’ve improved Des’s match reports no end.’

She looked at him hopefully.

‘Don’t do that,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Turn those big puppy-dog eyes on me.’

‘Sorry.’ She looked away.

‘I don’t want to fire you. And I’m sure Paudie doesn’t want me to throw you out of another job either. Fan the flames of your rage against him and all that. Turn you into some psycho killer stalking the streets of Ardbawn.’

She tried not to smile.

‘But you can’t carry on some kind of personal crusade against him.’

‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘Honestly. I’m curious by nature, that’s all.’

‘There’s nothing to be curious about as far as Paudie’s concerned.’

‘There’s loads.’

‘Leave it,’ said DJ. ‘Please.’

‘Oh, all right.’

On one level she was relieved. Meeting Paudie’s family had made her feel guilty for thinking that he had, in some way, been responsible for the death of his wife. Sinead and Peter were nice people and she couldn’t blame them for being annoyed with her (even though Peter had also seemed amused). Josh, of course, was a total treasure. It was hard to believe that his grandfather was a murderer. Or that he’d driven his wife to suicide. But even as she was thinking these things, she still wanted to know why Elva had died.

‘This is a friendly newspaper,’ said DJ. ‘Sure we talk about
bad things that happen, but we’re not here to be doom-mongering and scandal driven. So whatever ideas you had from your previous employer, you can just forget them.’

‘All right.’

‘Now get outside and start doing something useful,’ said DJ. ‘There’s a dog show in the community centre next Friday. I want interviews and pictures and human-interest stories on dogs. I want dogs that look like their owners and owners who look like their dogs. I want heart-warming stories about dogs who’ve saved the day. I want celebrity dogs and celebrity dog owners. I want warm and fuzzy and happy reading. OK?’

‘OK,’ said Sheridan.

‘And spend a bit more time on the horoscopes this week,’ said DJ. ‘I thought the last lot were a bit vague.’

‘They’re meant to be.’

‘Yeah, but not quite so airy-fairy. A few general pointers.’

‘Like what?

‘Like how my sign can keep calm in stressful situations.’

She grinned at him.

‘It’s not funny,’ he said.

‘Sorry.’

‘Ah, it’s all right.’ He grinned too. ‘It’d be boring if life was simple for me, now wouldn’t it?’

‘I guess it was easier with Myra around.’

‘Ah, Myra.’ DJ’s face lit up. ‘Did you hear she’s had her baby? So that’s another thing for this week’s edition. A little piece on the new mum and the new arrival. Lots of love from all of us. Give her a call and ask her for some of the gory details.’

‘I heard about the baby. You’re sure she won’t mind me calling her?’

‘Not at all. She knows how we do things.’

And I don’t, thought Sheridan as she made her way to her desk. I probably never will, either.

Nina was baking cookies while her part-time housekeeper, Anais, was vacuuming and polishing. Nina was quite happy to leave the cleaning to Anais while she concentrated on cutting the dough into different shapes and placing them carefully on the baking tray. Even when Sean had taken over the cooking for a while, Nina had always done the baking. It was soothing, and the warm aromas that wafted from the oven never failed to comfort her.

She didn’t know if she needed to be soothed or comforted following Sean’s visit. She couldn’t help feeling pleased that he wanted to come home, but there was a corner of her that continued to worry that it had more to do with his investment in the guesthouse than his love for her. Yet if that was the case, surely he’d be happy to stay away and then force her to sell it?

He’d been chivalrous enough on Saturday night, retreating to the deserted residents’ lounge to watch the TV while she stayed in the kitchen. She’d brought tea into the lounge later and they’d sat in two armchairs, the coffee table between them, as they drank it. Sean had asked her about the number of visitors she had, and she’d explained about Sheridan, and then said that there was a group coming the next week as part of one of her riding-lesson packages with Peggy. Par for the course, she’d told him, and he’d asked her about the dramatic society’s contribution to the festival. She told him that Brian Carton was going to star in
Blithe Spirit
this year and that Hayley had expressly forbidden him to climb down
riverbanks looking for stray sheep. Sean had laughed at that, which caused her to laugh too, leading her to feel as though things between them could be retrievable and that she’d be totally wrong not to forgive him, because they were good together no matter what.

At midnight he’d said that he was tired and needed to get some sleep, and she’d told him that the Buttercup bedroom was freshly made up. He’d hesitated for a moment, then nodded and gone upstairs, but she’d stayed in the residents’ lounge for another thirty minutes, staring at the images on the TV without taking any of them in.

She’d locked her bedroom door even though there hadn’t been any need, because Sean didn’t come to the room. She’d have known if he had, because she hadn’t slept a wink.

He’d left on Sunday morning, dropping a swift kiss on her head before he opened the door. She wondered if he wanted her to ask him to stay, but she was silent as she watched the car disappear down the driveway and turn on to the road.

She’d felt unsettled for the rest of the day, but less so than after she’d first told him to leave. It was as though his temporary return had allowed certain segments of her life to find their place. A place from which she would move on eventually, only, as yet, she didn’t know where she would move on to.

Sean Fallon hadn’t bothered to cook since he’d moved into the apartment off Morehampton Road but had lived on ready meals, pub grub and takeaways. After seeing Nina and spending the night at home again, however, the urge had come upon him to cook for himself. It was something he’d
had to learn when Nina was pregnant with Alan, when the smell of meat on the grill or in the oven had made her feel sick. Given that most of the people who came to the guesthouse expected a full fry-up for their breakfasts, Sean had to take on the duties of chef, at least for the first few months of Nina’s pregnancy. But even after she’d got over her nausea, he occasionally did a stint in the kitchen. It wasn’t that he particularly liked to cook, but he liked the logistics of planning a meal and he found the chopping, the blending and the stirring therapeutic.

In the small apartment kitchen he was trying to re-create the aroma that had met him when he’d walked into the kitchen at Ardbawn. But it wasn’t just the lingering hint of cooking in the air that had suddenly made him feel homesick – it had been every scent of the Bawnee River Guesthouse. The fresh flowers in the hallway. The lingering beeswax of the furniture polish. The cotton fragrance of the lighted candle in the living room. The scent of home.

He liked living in the apartment, but he missed home. He missed the comfort of it, the warmth and the security. He missed knowing that Nina was there, ready to laugh with him at something a guest had said or to share the anxieties of the weeks when there were no guests. He hadn’t thought he’d miss it, but he did.

Lulu Adams wouldn’t have had the faintest idea how to cook a tuna steak, or bake an apple pie, or do any of the domesticated things that Nina could do without even thinking. Of course that was what had first attracted him to her – her overt sensuality, her aura of being above mundane things like making shopping lists or scrubbing baths. The image of Lulu with a bottle of Cif and a cloth in her hand
was one he couldn’t even attempt to conjure up. No, when he thought of Lulu, he thought of wantonness and sex and pleasure without limits. When he thought of Nina, he thought of practicalities and comfort and someone to look after him.

Which was what his father had said she would do when they had their one and only man-to-man conversation. Anthony had wanted to know what Sean’s intentions towards Nina were. Not, he said, because he cared if Sean bedded her and then left her – times were changing, after all. But Nina was becoming an attractive woman and there were other men in Ardbawn who’d be interested in a good-looking girl with a house of her own. Anthony had pointed out that Sean’s acting career had come to nothing and that he wasn’t getting any younger. The time had come, he said, to choose the sort of life he wanted to lead.

Sean’s dream had been to lead an exciting, glamorous life. Coming back to Ardbawn had never been part of his plan. But he cared for Nina. She was witty and clever and good in bed. So who – or what – he asked himself, was he holding out for? He’d sat down one night and made a list of pros and cons about marrying her. The pros outweighed the cons. It was a no-brainer in the end.

Of course he’d never entirely settled into the role of guesthouse owner. Sometimes the grind of looking after other people and the pettiness of some of the guests drove him to distraction. Yet he was good with them, playing the role of concerned host no matter how trivial or annoying their problems might be. But he couldn’t be expected to be totally immune to other possibilities. Other lives. Other people.