Between The Sheets (31 page)

'You're working very late.'

Dana whirled around to see her brother in the door-way. 'For God's sake, Ed, don't creep up on me like that.'

'Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. What are you so engrossed in anyway? I thought the book was finished.'

'Just playing around with an idea,' she said vaguely, saving the file and closing down her machine.

'Drink?'

She nodded. 'There's a bottle open in the conservatory.'

'Oh, right. So how is lover boy?'

'Stop calling him that,' she snapped, cradling her arm as she stood up and followed him outside.

Ed raised an eyebrow. 'You're touchy tonight. What's up?'

'I'm tired and sore.'

'Poor you.' He poured the wine and handed her a glass. 'You shouldn't be working so much. The doctor said you were to rest.'

That was Ed; whenever he was being really annoying or irritating, he'd turn around and say something nice.

'So did you get any good shots?'

He nodded enthusiastically. 'Yeah, I went down to the canal and got some great mirror images.'

'You've been gone hours, you must be freezing.'

'I don't notice the cold when I'm working. Anyway, I went prepared.' He peeled off two jumpers and sat down.

'You really love your work, don't you?' Dana remarked.

'I do,' he said, taking his glass and stretching out in the armchair beside her. 'Just like you.'

'I'm not so sure any more,' she murmured. 'Some-times I think I'd like to do something completely different.'

'Like?'

'No idea,' Dana admitted. 'I've never really done anything else.'

'You're one of the lucky ones. Many people chop and change jobs and never actually find anything they love to do.'

'Strange. I don't feel very lucky at the moment.'

'Look around you,' he snapped. 'You don't have it so bad.'

She glared back at him. 'How dare you judge me? You're the last person who's entitled to do that.'

He sighed. 'Have another drink and cool down, will you? Maybe you should go into acting/ he added under his breath.

'You think I'm acting?' she said, growing angrier.

'I think that you're too quick to pick a fight/ he retorted. 'It was supposed to be a joke, Dana.'

'Well, you're not funny. Stick to the day job.'

'I intend to. You know,' Ed added thoughtfully, 'we should do a book together.'

Dana shot him a curious look. 'What kind of book?'

He shrugged. 'I don't know. Maybe a history of Wexford. Or a look at the nature in our home county. Or,' he winked, 'the old man's biography.'

'Write about that old bastard? Are you mad?'

'It would be the ultimate revenge,' he pointed out. 'We could say what we want, and everybody would believe us because we're his kids. And we could put in all the worst photos we could find. Now that would really piss him off. He was always so vain.'

They sat in silence for a moment and then Dana sat forward, her face curious. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Sure.'

'When did you lose your stammer?'

He smiled.

'What?'

'Nothing, it just wasn't the question I was expecting.'

'Well?' she prompted.

'I worked for a very nice man in a pizzeria for a while. I started off washing up and preparing vegetables, that sort of thing, but he wanted me to work out front. He said I was a good-looking lad and would draw in the girls. I told him I wouldn't be able to handle it — my stammer was always worse when I was with strangers. I said that with my stutter it would take half the night for me to tell them the specials, and he'd end up losing customers. But he wouldn't take no for an answer. At first he just put me on the till. Then, as I got more confident, he let me serve and take orders. The stammer got better and better, and after about a year it disappeared altogether.'

'What a good person,' Dana murmured, wondering if she would ever take the time or have the patience to help another human being. 'How old were you then?'

He frowned. 'About nineteen.'

'I never noticed at the funeral.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'I'm not surprised; you hardly talked to me at the funeral.'

'Sorry, but—'

He held up a hand. 'It's okay. We've been through all that. Anyway it was stupid of me not to realize how you would feel at the time. I suppose I wasn't exactly thinking straight.'

'Neither of us were.'

He reached over to pat her good hand. 'I'm glad we've had this time together, aren't you? It's great that we can finally lay these ghosts to rest.'

She forced a smile. 'Yeah. It's great.'

'Dana? Are you okay?'

She nodded. 'Sure. I'm just tired. I think it's time I went to bed.'

'Let me help you.' He stood up and held out his hand.

'No, that's okay. I can manage.'

'Goodnight, then.'

'Goodnight, Ed.'

Ed watched her slow progress up the stairs, and when she was safely in her room he went into her office and quietly closed the door behind him.

Walter didn't read
The Mile High Club
immediately. First, he cancelled his last appointment, then he slid the bulky manuscript into his briefcase and went home. After pouring himself a very large G & T, he put on the answering machine and settled down to read. He wanted to be sure that there was no hope for this book before he talked to Dana. He also needed to think long and hard about what to do next.

As he read he got more and more upset. He felt he was witnessing the premature demise of an author who had so much more to give — much more than she had produced so far, and yet even that had brought her huge success. On a personal level he felt that Dana was lost. She'd tried to tell him, of course, but he hadn't listened. He'd been convinced that it was just a rough patch that he would be able to jolly or bully her out of. But he'd been wrong, he conceded. As he read and drank, he felt like phoning Gus Johnson and giving him an earful. In fact that's exactly what he was going to do. Walter hurled the pages across the room and picked up the phone.

Gus and Terry were back on track. They had just had a lovely dinner in a romantic Italian restaurant around the corner from his rented flat, and when Gus asked her back for a drink, she'd agreed.

He had just fetched their drinks and sat down beside her on the sofa, when the phone rang.

Terry kissed the side of his mouth. 'Don't answer it,' she murmured.

He groaned. 'I have to. There are a couple of guys at the office working late. It could be them and with Tom on leave—'

'Okay, okay, go on.' She sat back on the sofa and started to slowly open the buttons of her shirt.

'Hello?' Gus croaked, his eyes following her fingers.

'Well, I hope you're proud of yourself.'

'Excuse me? Who is this?'

'You know damn well who this is, Johnson. I'm the man who's been trying to keep your poor wife from going over the edge. I'm the one who's been trying to hold her sorry career together while you screw around with a teenager. I'm the one who's going to have to tell her tomorrow that she has fuck-all chance of getting a new contract, because her latest book is drivel.'

'Oh, Walter.' Gus sighed. 'Is it really that bad?'

'Like you care/ Walter cried. 'This is your bloody fault. So, what have you got to say for yourself? Well?'

Gus turned away from Terry's questioning gaze. 'Walter, you're pissed.'

'Not half as pissed as I'm going to be/ the agent retorted, and hung up.

'Sorry about that,' Gus said, staring at the phone.

'It didn't sound like it was work.'

'No.'

'It was about Dana, wasn't it?'

He nodded.

Terry gently touched his cheek. 'Gus, she's not your problem any more.'

'No,' he agreed.

'Why did you ask me here, Gus?'

He shrugged. 'I wanted us to have a nice evening together.'

'Then let's do that,' she said, kissing him.

He kissed her back, but his heart wasn't in it.

She pulled back and stared at him. 'Gus?'

'I'm sorry, Terry.'

She sighed and started to button up her shirt again. 'So, what is it? What's wrong?'

'Dana's got problems.'

'Don't we all?' she mumbled.

'It's serious, Terry. And I need to try to help her before it's too late.'

She looked at him in silence for a moment, then nodded and stood up.

'Terry?'

She picked up her jacket and bag. 'You've been messing me around, Gus.'

'No, honestly, I haven't!' He tried to pull her into his arms but Terry side-stepped him. 'Terry, please. Just give me some time. Maybe when this is all sorted—'

She paused at the door and shot him an incredulous look. 'And maybe you should just go to hell.'

Ed was still reading when the doorbell rang. He started, surprised by the sound. No one could get to the door unless they had the code for the gate. The only person it could be ... He hurried out to the hall. He hoped Dana was asleep. He eased the door open and stood back to let Gus in.

'Come through to the office,' he whispered and led the way.

'You don't seem surprised to see me,' Gus said when they were in Dana's inner sanctum with the door closed.

'Nothing surprises me these days.'

Gus walked to the window and turned around to look at his wife's desk and chair. 'It feels strange being in here without her.' He turned to face Ed. 'I got a call from Wally. He was pissed as a newt, but I think he was trying to tell me that Dana's book is a disaster.'

Ed flopped into Dana's chair. 'She said she thought it was crap. I was hoping she was just being paranoid.'

'Is this my fault, Ed?' Gus asked.

'Yes and no. Oh, please, sit down. You're giving me a crick in my neck.'

Gus shook his head. 'Not in here. I don't feel comfortable. Let's go to the kitchen or even out to the pool-house -I don't care, just not here.'

'Okay, then, you head down to the pool-house and I'll get some drinks. Beer or something stronger?'

'Whiskey and soda, please. I'm not driving and I could really do with a drink.'

While Gus quietly opened the french windows and slipped out into the garden, Ed went out to the kitchen to fetch the drinks.

'Sorry, you'll have to do without ice,' he said, as he kicked the door of the pool-house closed after him.

'No problem, it's cold enough out here anyway.' Gus raised his glass. 'Thanks for letting me in. So, Ed, is it my fault?'

They sat down in two wicker chairs facing out towards the floodlit pool. Though Ed could see Gus's profile he could not see his expression or the look in his eyes. Maybe it was easier that way.

'There's no doubt that your leaving was the catalyst that set off this chain of events.'

Gus dropped his head in his hands.

'But,' Ed added, 'it was only a matter of time before she cracked. She's been bottling up a lot of hurt and anger for years.'

'But she did attend a psychiatrist, Ed. Surely she worked through her problems then?'

Ed shrugged. 'Who knows? It doesn't really matter, does it? It obviously didn't work.'

'And do you think it's all down to your father or her abortion?'

Ed shook his head. 'I'm not sure. My father was an old-fashioned, bigoted, autocratic sort of man. His family were hugely important to him, but it was equally important that we fitted in with his image of what the perfect family should be. He was deeply committed to the Catholic Church and expected his children to follow his example without question. If I missed Mass or didn't go to Confession when I was supposed to, he'd take his belt to me. If he caught me out in a lie or I got into trouble at school, there was hell to pay. His relationship with my mother was complicated. I think he loved her in his own way but at the same time he didn't really approve of her. She wasn't as impressed by the Church, for a start. And she was way too soft on us for his liking.'

Ed paused to take a drink.

'We were probably no different from other families when we were young. My father was working as a teacher and I was too small to cause that much trouble. The problems started when I got older. I couldn't do anything right, or so it seemed. That's when the shouting started and his belt became a regular feature in my life. My mother — small and gentle though she was — always stuck up for me. She used every trick in the book to distract him, and sometimes it worked.' Ed stopped and swallowed hard. 'And sometimes it didn't. And then, of course, there were times when she wasn't around and he would be free to make me as miserable and as terrified as he could. By the age of fourteen, I had developed a stammer, and he ridiculed me for it. He'd make me read my homework over and over again, trying to badger me into talking properly. Of course, the more upset I got, the more I stammered and the angrier he would get. Sometimes,' Ed's voice shook slightly, 'if I was really upset, I would wet myself. Then he would mock me and say I was a disgusting little animal, not worthy of the name O'Carroll. That I didn't deserve to live in the lovely comfortable house that he had worked hard to provide for us.'

Ed stopped for another drink.

'He told me I was a weak, miserable excuse for a child and an embarrassment to him and my mother, only she was too much of a lady to admit it.'

"The old bastard,' Gus murmured.

Tears welled in Ed's eyes and he was glad of the cover of darkness.

'What about Dana? Did he treat her the same way?'

'No.' Ed shook his head. 'Dana could do no wrong. She was his little princess. You see, she was pretty and clever and funny. And she was talented. By the age of eight, she was reading the classics and writing the most amazing little stories. Dad realized that she was a chip off the old block, and he gloried in that.'

'Did you hate her?'

Ed stared at him. 'No, of course not! She was a great kid and she thought I was the best brother in the world. Given the way my father treated me, you can understand why that meant a lot. We were close, despite the fact that there are almost three years between us. When my parents argued, she would cling to me, shivering like a frightened little puppy. She didn't know what was going on most of the time, and I did my best to shield her from the worst of it. Mum did too.' He sighed. 'Maybe that was the wrong thing to do. As she got older, though, she began to understand that he treated me and Mum differently and she was furious.' He grinned. 'She was a fiery little character, even then. When there was a major row, she would put herself in the middle of it, and scream at him to stop. Unfortunately it had the opposite effect. He saw her taking my side and it made him angrier. The rows got worse and more frequent. Then one day, I'd had enough. We were in the kitchen and he was in full flow and I just grabbed a kitchen knife and pushed him up against the wall. Mum screamed and Dana came in from the garden. They were both begging me to stop. Of course, they needn't have worried. Dad easily overpowered me. But I decided in that moment that I had to leave. I couldn't take the abuse any more, and I knew life would be better for both Dana and my mother if I left. So I did.'