City Lives (16 page)

When Maggie had lived in Saudi, she’d done the same. It was a way of life. Now she was so busy she hardly had time to go to City Girl for a workout.

The phone rang. Maggie hurried to answer it, glancing at her watch as she did so. It was early, nine fifteen. She was meeting Marcy at ten thirty in the Shelbourne. She needed to get her skates
on. If it was Nelsie on the phone ready for one of her long chats, Maggie would just have to cut her short and her mother wouldn’t like that.

‘Please don’t let it be Ma,’ she murmured as she picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’

‘Maggie, I know this is bad form and short notice but could you possibly meet me for lunch rather than at ten thirty as arranged? Something’s come up that I need to attend to,’
Marcy said briskly.

‘I’ll have to be back here for twenty to three, Marcy. I have to pick Shona up from school.’ Maggie tried to keep the irritation out of her voice. Did Marcy think that she was
the only one with a hectic schedule?

‘Don’t worry, we’ll have a quick bite to eat and I’ll fill you in on developments.’ Marcy was as businesslike as ever. ‘How about if I meet you at one in the
Shelbourne? We can eat there. I’ll book a table.’

‘OK, Marcy. See you then.’ Maggie sighed.

‘Fine so. Bye.’ Marcy was gone, leaving Maggie staring at the phone in exasperation. How typical of Marcy. She had a knack of making Maggie feel completely and utterly insignificant
and inconsequential. It wasn’t at all deliberate. It was simply that her editor had such a sense of herself and her own importance, it was inconceivable that someone else’s time was
just as important as Marcy’s. It would never dawn on the other woman that Maggie might be insulted or inconvenienced by her ‘something that had come up’. It would certainly never
occur to Marcy that Maggie had to work around her children’s school hours, and that her time was as worthy of consideration as Marcy’s. But then Marcy didn’t have children. She
had no conception of what it was like to rear children and run a household. Marcy lived in a posh apartment in Sutton with her barrister husband. They had a part-time housekeeper who cleaned,
shopped, and ironed, leaving both of them plenty of time to aggressively pursue their career ambitions.

What she should have done, Maggie thought glumly, was be assertive and say that the new arrangement didn’t suit. But knowing Marcy she’d probably have said ‘fine’ and
suggested a meeting later in the week. Maggie was so on edge about what was going on at Enterprise Publishing she couldn’t wait that long.

‘I bet Josephine Langley won’t be palmed off with “a quick bite to eat,”’ Maggie growled as she tidied away her make-up. Josephine Langley was Enterprise’s
most successful best-selling author. She’d made a fortune for the company and was the envy of every other author in the Enterprise stable. All of them, including Maggie, aspired to equalling
her sales figures.

‘Oh stop talking to yourself!’ She glowered at her reflection in the mirror. She had a couple of hours to fill. There was no point in sitting down to write, she was too tense. She
could change the sheets on the children’s beds and put in a wash or she could make a big pot roast and freeze a couple of dinners or she could mend the rip in Michael’s school pullover
or . . . there were a dozen chores that needed her attention. None of them the slightest bit enticing. Besides, she didn’t feel like taking off her grey trouser suit to do housework.

Impulsively she picked up her bag and car keys and hurried downstairs. Ten minutes later she was on the M50 heading for Glasnevin. If Nikki couldn’t fit her in for a cut and blow-dry
she’d drive into City Girl and see if Devlin could arrange a hair appointment for her. The bird’s nest was getting to her.

Fifteen minutes later she parked down the small side road adjacent to the Botanic Garden Nurseries. She’d seen a warden give a ticket to a woman parked on the double yellows outside her
hairdressers and she wasn’t going to take the risk. She crossed the road and walked briskly past the off-licence and chemist. She needed Vick and junior aspirin, she remembered, she’d
get them on the way back. She’d asked Terry three times to get them on his way home from work but he’d forgotten each time.

The salon was busy and her heart sank. It was a bit much to come without an appointment.

‘Hi Maggie, you look the biz, are you off on a publicity thing?’ Nikki greeted her.

‘Well, I’m meeting my editor for lunch in the Shelbourne and the hair’s gone bird’s-nesty.’

‘You can say that again,’ the petite brunette said dryly. ‘Take a seat, I can fit you in, but you’re getting a radical change of image and you can start getting used to
the idea right now.’

‘Not short,’ protested Maggie.

‘Short! Sit!’ Nikki ordered.

‘Yes, Nikki,’ Maggie said meekly. Despite her dread of short hair, the idea of a radical change of image was very seductive.

Two hours later she was staring shell-shocked at her reflection in the big gleaming mirror in front of her. The curls were gone and the grey hairs too, replaced by a sleek sophisticated cut,
styled back behind the ears, to draw attention to her eyes and cheekbones. A feathery fringe softened the image but she was shaken none the less.

‘It’s so short,’ she wailed.

‘It’s gorgeous. Very sexy.’

‘Takes years off you.’

‘It will be so easy to manage.’

‘It’s cool.’

Jean, Pauline, Louise and Laura, the other stylists, crowded around to have a look as Nikki stood, arms folded, smiling smugly, having got her own way at long last.

‘It’s you, Maggie. It’s youthful and fresh and the next time you’re in I might cut it even shorter.’

‘In your dreams, Nikki.’ Maggie grinned as she paid her bill.

‘We’ll see!’ Nikki said coolly but she gave Maggie a warm hug before she left.

Maggie hurried back to the car. Her neck felt cold. She’d buy a scarf in town. Her head felt so light and shorn. It would take a while to get used to. It was so nice to have stylists that
cared about their customers. Maggie always left Nikki’s feeling like a new woman. Today she looked like one, she reflected, as she stared at her reflection in the rear-view mirror. The tint
was nice though, rich but very natural-looking. Her first tint, that was a sure sign of middle-age and she wasn’t even forty, she thought mournfully as she slid into the traffic and headed
for the city.

It was just midday. She’d park in the City Girl car park, pop up and see Devlin and then walk across Stephen’s Green to the Shelbourne.

‘It’s fabulous, Maggie!’ Devlin exclaimed as Maggie walked into her office half an hour later. ‘Turn around. Let me see.’ Maggie laughed and put her hand to the
back of her neck.

‘It’s too short.’

‘No it’s not. It’s so sophisticated,’ Devlin raved. ‘It’s so with it. It’s perfect for you.’

‘I got a tint,’ Maggie confessed. ‘I’m on the slippery slope.’

‘Oh dear,’ Devlin murmured. ‘It’s a beautiful shade. It’s very natural.’

‘I know, but still now that I’ve started I’ll have to keep doing it. I don’t believe in growing old gracefully. I’ll fight it tooth and nail.’

‘Me too,’ Devlin said firmly. ‘I don’t care what the feminists say. The first sign of wrinkles and grey hair and I’m nipping it in the bud for my own sake. Are we
very vain and shallow?’ she asked, laughing.

‘No. We’re normal. We’re human,’ Maggie declared as she viewed herself in the mirror on Devlin’s wall. ‘Are you sure it’s not too short?’

‘No it’s perfect. Now how did you get on with Marcy Elliot? What’s happening at your publishers?’ Devlin sat on the edge of her desk, bright-eyed and full of vitality,
oozing chic in a taupe tailored suit. Maggie reflected that her marriage to Luke had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. No longer restless and unhappy, Devlin had it all.

‘Marcy changed the meeting to a lunch-time one. I’m meeting her at one in the Shelbourne which is a bit of a pain in the butt because I’ll have to rush home to collect Shona
from school, so I probably won’t have time to come back over and tell you about it. I’ll give you a ring tonight.’ Maggie sighed.

‘Oh! I was dying to hear what’s going on,’ Devlin said regretfully.

‘Me too. It’s very unsettling, Dev. I can’t write. I’m worried about my new editor. What’s he or she going to be like? I’m taking a break after this one.
I’m whacked.’

‘You can’t do that,’ protested her friend. ‘Your fans will go mad. The pages you brought over on Sunday were brilliant.
Betrayal
is definitely your best
yet.’

‘Oh, do you think so, Dev? And you really liked the pages?’ Maggie said eagerly, always glad to get a positive response to a novel in progress. Her greatest fear was that it would
never be as good as her previous novels and that she was losing her touch. Praise and encouragement always gave her confidence a boost.

‘I really liked them,’ Devlin assured her. ‘It’s going to be a great book, so stop panicking and keep writing. It doesn’t matter who your editor is, it’s you
that’s writing it.’

‘A good editor is like a good husband, Devlin. Supportive, encouraging, keeping you on the straight and narrow when you can’t see the wood for the trees. I don’t have that in
Terry any more, that’s why I valued Marcy so much.’ To her dismay, tears welled in her eyes.

‘Oh Maggie, Maggie!’ Devlin shot up, horrified, and hurried over to her friend.

‘I’m sorry, Dev,’ Maggie sobbed. ‘I don’t know where all this came from. It must be PMT. It’s just that I feel so stressed and then Terry goes and pulls the
Al Shariff stunt and I know my feelings didn’t even enter his head when he invited them. All he was thinking about was the good time he’d have with Sulaiman and showing off in front of
Alma. And I just wonder how much longer I can stick living with him without going crazy. I don’t want to be with him. I don’t want to be married to him any more. I feel so angry and
resentful. If it was just me, I’d be gone. But I have to think of the kids. They were so traumatized the first time we separated, I couldn’t bear to put them through it again. But
Devlin, if only you knew how much I long for a bit of support and thoughtfulness and kisses and cuddles. You know the kind of thing that makes all your hassles and troubles fade into the
background, and you don’t care what’s happening on the outside because inside you feel cherished. I miss it, Devlin. I look at you and Luke and envy you so much, not in a bad way but in
a way that makes me feel how empty my own life is. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It has to be PMT or something. I don’t usually do this.’ Maggie’s body shook with sobs.

‘It’s OK, Maggie. It’s OK.’ Devlin put her arms around her friend and stroked her back.

‘Do I have to live the rest of my life with Terry because of vows I made years ago? I believed them when I made them. I didn’t know all this was going to happen. I didn’t know
I’d stop loving him. How can God be so cruel as to want two people who have no feelings for each other to stay together? There’s no love in that,’ Maggie raged. ‘I
don’t understand any of it. I tried my best to be a good wife and mother but am I supposed to be miserable for the rest of my life because the Church doesn’t allow divorce? I feel
completely trapped, Devlin. I feel all this pressure inside me. Sometimes I think I’m going to crack up.’

‘I don’t know what to say to help,’ Devlin admitted. ‘It must be horrible to feel so trapped. I’m sorry things are so bad between you and Terry. And I think it
would truly be very wrong for you to feel that you have to stay with him for the rest of your life just so you can say “I kept the rules.” I think Caroline is right sometimes that we
all come into each others’ lives for a reason and then we move on after we’ve learned whatever they have to teach us. Maybe Terry is teaching you that it’s not wrong to put
yourself first sometimes. You should talk to Caroline, she’s good at this kind of stuff,’ Devlin urged, desperate to help.

‘Oh I don’t know. I couldn’t cope with being told that Terry is a great spirit and that we all knew what we were letting ourselves in for before we came to earth. Who in their
right mind would have agreed to my life? If what she says is true, I’m sure I’d have wanted to be a perfect size twelve with straight hair, able to eat as much as I liked. And with
someone sensitive, and supportive and dead sexy for a husband.’ Maggie sniffed, wiping her eyes. ‘Sorry, Devlin, this certainly wasn’t on the agenda,’ she said ruefully as
she inspected the damage in the mirror. ‘Look at the state of me. I can’t waltz into the Shelbourne looking like this.’ Mascara ran in streaks down under her eyes. Her cheeks were
blotchy, her eye-shadow smudged and her cheeks red and swollen.

‘Stay calm, I’ll get one of the girls to touch you up. Here, wipe off that mascara.’ Devlin rummaged in her bag and produced make-up remover and a cotton pad.

‘Thanks. You’re a pal.’

Devlin gave her a hug. ‘All I can say is that Luke and I will always be here for you and we’ll do anything to help out when the Al Shariffs come.’

‘Thanks, Devlin.’ Maggie gulped. Where had that unleashing of sorrow and grief come from? What was wrong with her, losing control like that? ‘Sorry for bawling all over you. I
don’t know why it happened.’ Her hands shook as she poured some cream onto the pad.

‘Maggie, you’re under stress. You’re unhappy. You’re tired and unsupported. Why would you
not
burst into tears now and again? I don’t know how you cope
with the kids and your career and the state of your marriage. You carry it off really well. You’re
entitled
to a Good-Cry-And-Get-It-Off-Your-Chest-Day every so often,’ Devlin
declared as she pressed a button on her intercom and asked for a beautician to come up to her office as soon as possible with her make-up kit.

‘I’m awful. I never even asked you how you got on in Galway,’ Maggie said apologetically. ‘Did you have a good trip? Is it all working out?’

‘It’s going to be great, Maggie. When it’s all set up we’ll go down for a pampery weekend,’ Devlin enthused. ‘I was talking to the architect. It’s going
to be all wood and windows to make the most of that fantastic light. And the landscape gardener came up with some beautiful ideas. As well as making the most of the panorama he’s going to
develop some secluded little nooks and crannies where clients can go and sit and be alone to read or just to sit and think. It’s going to cost a fortune and Andrew is whinging away but it
will be worth it. But do you know something, Maggie? For the last couple of days this tiredness has come over me and I’ve just wanted to put my head down and sleep. I don’t remember
having that with Lynn,’ Devlin remarked.