City Lives (8 page)

That was why she’d been so excited for him when he’d decided to sell up and go and create a new life in Boston. She’d felt that she’d finally got through. He’d
started to take responsibility for his own life and let go of his false sense of duty and obligation to his mother. But having heard him on the answering machine Caroline had the utterly
disheartening feeling that he wasn’t interested in changing, even though he paid it lip-service.

Might it not dawn on her thoroughly selfish and immature husband that
he
might have caused his mother’s heart attack? But Richard would never take responsibility for that.
He’d be far more inclined to let her shoulder the blame . . . and the guilt. That was quite obvious from the message on the answering machine. The sooner she was divorced the better, Caroline
thought bitterly.

She walked into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. It was crazy even to think that one or other of them had caused Sarah’s heart attack, she thought glumly. That was wrong thinking.
Guilt stuff. She should ring Richard, she supposed. Find out what hospital Mrs Yates was in. See if she needed a case packed.

Reluctantly she dialled Richard’s mobile number. It went straight into divert. Caroline took a deep breath.

‘Hi, Richard, it’s me. I’m at home. Do you want me to get any night clothes and toiletries for your mother? Call me when you can.’

She hung up, heavy-hearted. He must be in the coronary care unit if his phone was turned off. Was Mrs Yates alive or dead? It would solve a lot of problems if she were dead. Caroline
couldn’t help the callous thought that sprang to mind. There’d be no more hassle about the divorce.

If she survived, she’d milk it for the rest of her days. Would Richard be strong enough to stick to his guns? Caroline didn’t dare to think about it. All she was sure of was that the
next few days were going to be hell.

There was no word from him within the next two hours. Caroline knew that he must have checked his messages. How mean of him to keep her hanging on. It wouldn’t have taken five minutes to
call her. He was obviously very angry with her. Had Mrs Yates regained consciousness and regaled him with a whole pack of lies? Knowing her mother-in-law, Caroline wouldn’t put it past her,
she thought agitatedly as she paced the lounge for the umpteenth time.

Unable to wait another minute, she dialled Richard’s number again. Again it went into divert. ‘Richard, please call.’ Her message was terse.

Ten minutes later he rang.

‘Why did it take you so long to call me back, Richard? I phoned two hours ago,’ Caroline snapped, fraught. ‘Is your mother all right?’

‘I was in the CCU. You’re not allowed to have your phone on there. She’s stable at the moment. The next seventy-two hours are critical,’ Richard said testily.

‘What hospital is she in?’

‘The Mater.’

‘Do you want me to pack a case and bring in nightdresses and toiletries?’

‘No. I can collect them tomorrow. She doesn’t need them yet.’ His tone was anything but friendly.

‘Do you want me to come in?’ Caroline asked.

There was silence for a moment. Then Richard said coldly, ‘No Caroline. I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘I don’t have to go in and see your mother. I just thought you might like some support.’ Caroline tried to keep the edge of irritation out of her voice.

‘I’m fine, thank you. I’ll see you when I see you. Bye.’ Richard clicked off.

Caroline stood staring at the dead receiver. Hurt. After all they’d been through. After all she’d forgiven him for, and he could still treat her like this. She knew what was wrong
with him. If his mother lived he was going to back out of everything. He wasn’t going to sell the firm. Divorce was out and he was going to try and lay the blame at her feet. Well, fuck him!
She wasn’t putting up with it. She was going and he could do what he liked and go to hell.

Frustration engulfed her. For a moment she thought of the vodka in the drinks cabinet. One lovely sharp cold vodka and tonic. Would one make such a difference? How many times had she asked
herself the same old question. It was too big a risk to take. Caroline walked out of the room, away from temptation. She went into her bedroom and took a well-thumbed little yellow book from her
bedside locker. It was called
The Game of Life
and in its pages she’d found inspiration and solace every time she opened it. She lit a scented candle, put on some soft music and
tried to find calmness and peace in the depths of her being. She knew that she was going to need all her inner strength and resources to face what lay ahead.

Richard sat looking at his waxen-faced mother. In the hospital bed attached to monitors and hooked up to drips she looked very frail and small. Shrivelled, almost. Her face,
without her false teeth, was pinched and puckered like a walnut shell. It was hard to believe that this was the same woman who had taken him to task so sternly that morning.

She’d been fine when he’d left her, just hours ago. Angry, certainly. But there’d been nothing wrong with her physically, he assured himself.

Whatever had happened to her had happened when she’d gone to see Caroline. Mrs Gleeson had phoned him, panic-stricken, to say that she’d collapsed in the car on the way home from
visiting his wife and had been taken into the Mater in an ambulance. When he’d quizzed her about why she’d gone to see Caroline, the housekeeper had informed him that she hadn’t a
clue but that she’d been very agitated before she went and twice as agitated when she got back in the car after the visit.

It was a bad heart attack. If she had another one within the next seventy-two hours she wouldn’t survive it. The doctor seemed to have no doubts on that score. If she made it through the
next few days she’d need bypass surgery. However, her constitution was strong, she was fit and thin and that was in her favour, the doctor had informed him kindly.

He couldn’t go and put the firm up for sale on Monday now. Not the way things were. Unless, of course, she died. She wouldn’t give a damn then. Or would she come back and haunt
him?

Richard buried his head in his hands. Only this morning he’d wished death on her and now it was hovering, ready to take her. He felt deeply, deeply guilty. Why did she have to have a
bloody heart attack? He never had any luck, he thought sorrowfully. If she died he’d feel guilty for the rest of his life. If she didn’t, he was stuck here. There was no way he could
take off to America if she was going to have a bypass. Even if she recovered from that he wouldn’t be able to leave. The fear of her having another attack would always be there. Damn Caroline
for whatever she’d said. She must have caused a hell of a scene to get Sarah so worked up. It was all this weird New Age codology that Caroline was into now. All those strangely titled books.
Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway; Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus; Anatomy of the Spirit.
She always had her nose stuck in a book these days and she was getting very peculiar
ideas.

God knows what she’d said to his mother. Caroline wouldn’t be at all happy when she heard that he was putting off selling the firm. He knew she was anxious to have things settled
between them. But what could he do? He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Surely Caroline would be able to see his dilemma. She’d just have to have patience. Everything hinged on
whether his mother lived or died. It was out of his hands now.

Caroline heard the ping of the lift bell and knew Richard was in the foyer waiting for the lift to descend. It was twelve thirty p.m. She’d been lying in bed unable to
sleep, waiting for him to come home. Would he knock on her door and come in to her? She’d deliberately left the door ajar so that he could see that the light was still on. Would he be
confrontational and abusive, or cold and sulky? Or by some miracle would he have calmed down and seen sense?

Her fingers curled tightly in her palms in an unconscious act of tension. She almost held her breath as she heard Richard open the front door. She listened as he locked the door behind him and
walked into the kitchen. She heard him open the fridge door and a cupboard. Moments later he switched off the light and she heard him walking down the hall. Her heart sank as he marched past her
bedroom and into his own.

So . . . it was to be the cold huffy silence. The freeze-out that could last for weeks. He wouldn’t tell her what was going on. She wouldn’t know whether he was staying or going. He
wouldn’t discuss Sarah’s illness. If she died, he’d hold it against her and somehow, as usual, in his eyes, everything would be all her fault. He’d accept responsibility for
nothing.

How long would she have to put up with it? If this went on for months what was she expected to do? How could she make plans? She bit her lip. Should she go in and ask him how Sarah was? Or would
he reef her out of it and once again accuse her of causing his mother’s heart attack?

Caroline lay back against her pillows. She was weary. She’d already had one draining confrontation with Sarah, she didn’t want another with Richard. Maybe it was better to sleep on
it and see what the morning brought.

She slept fitfully and was awake around seven. She lay quietly in the snug little hollow of her bed. Richard was always an early riser, today she wanted to be up before him so that he
couldn’t sneak off without speaking to her.

When she heard the sound of his shower running she slipped out of bed and wrapped her dressing-gown around her. She went down to the kitchen, filled the kettle, and began to prepare the
breakfast.

Twenty minutes later Richard appeared, showered and dressed.

‘Morning,’ Caroline said easily.

‘Morning.’ His tone was cool.

‘How’s your mother?’ The question hung in the air between them. Richard didn’t answer. He picked up the glass of orange juice she had poured for him and gulped it down.
Then he began to butter a croissant.

‘Richard, I asked how’s your mother?’ Caroline repeated, trying not to get angry.

Richard put his knife back on the plate and stared at her. ‘Do you really care, Caroline? What did you say to her yesterday that sent her out of here in such a state? Mrs Gleeson said she
was trembling.’

‘Richard that’s not fair! And don’t do this to me. Did you ask
me
what did she say to upset
me
? Your mother treated me with total disrespect yesterday . . .
and, may I add . . . you too. I even stood up for you. I shouldn’t have wasted my breath. You know I hope I never see your mother again, but I wouldn’t wish harm on her. That’s
why I asked how she was.’

‘Well she’s not very good, actually. And you probably
will
never see her again,’ Richard said sulkily. ‘So that will be a wish come true, won’t it,’
he added nastily.

‘Grow up, Richard,’ Caroline snapped. ‘Are you putting the business up for sale tomorrow?’

Richard stared at her in disgust. ‘How crass, Caroline. This isn’t the time to think of things like that. My mother is
dying
!’

‘And if she recovers?’ Caroline asked tartly. She knew she was being bitchy but she couldn’t help herself.

‘Look, I have to postpone things for a while, to see what way it goes. I’m not that selfish. Surely even
you
can understand that.’

‘Listen, Richard, I understand that you have to postpone your plans for a while. I just hope for your sake as well as for mine that you’re not going to change your mind about going
to America. But if you do, and if you decide to stay here, I think it’s only fair to tell you that I’m going for the divorce even if you decide to chicken out.’

‘Thanks for that! Just what I needed today. Your timing as usual is impeccable. You’re as self-centred as ever. You haven’t one ounce of sympathy towards my mother.’
Richard glared at her, bristling with hostility.

‘I just want you to remember that I’m in this equation too . . . that’s all, Richard.’ Caroline turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen. Her lower lip
trembled.

‘Don’t you dare cry,’ she muttered as she hurried towards her bedroom. She was angry, frustrated and pissed off. This was not all about Richard and his precious mother. Why
could Richard never see that? How come her needs and feelings were judged of no importance? And always had been in their marriage.

This was about her, too. Why should she feel bad about that? She had every right to put her feelings forward for consideration. But because she had, Richard had accused her of being self-centred
and unsympathetic. If he’d been approachable and civil when she’d asked about his mother, she wouldn’t have brought up the subject of his plans or postponement of them until he
had broached it. But he’d been cold and huffy and she knew from bitter past experience that that was his favourite ploy when he wanted to be evasive and avoid difficult decisions. It was a
way he used to undermine her and keep her off balance until he was ready to make choices and decisions.

Caroline breathed deeply and tried not to feel like an insensitive bitch. Maybe she’d gone in a bit too strong. When
was
the right time to stand up for yourself? This carry-on
could continue for weeks, months, if Sarah recovered. Her mother-in-law was pulling all the strings as usual, even on her sickbed, Caroline thought bitterly.

She had the feeling that Richard was half glad of the excuse to postpone selling up. He was too afraid to make his leap of faith and move on, she recognized sadly. If she wasn’t careful,
his fear would hold her back and she’d never get on with her life. This wasn’t all about Richard. This was about her, too. But it looked like she was going to have to make the break on
her own.

Caroline’s stomach tightened in knots. All her optimism of yesterday was well and truly gone. She’d be taking this step on her own. Right now she didn’t think she was going to
make it.

‘Mammy, I don’t want to get out of the pool. Why do we have to go to Wicklow? I want to keep swimming.’ Mimi, Maggie’s elder daughter, pouted
petulantly.

‘I’ve told you why we have to go to Wicklow, Mimi, now don’t give me a hard time,’ Maggie warned, as she swam to the side of the pool.