City Woman (51 page)

‘You have nothing to reproach yourself with, Maggie, my beautiful, generous, warmhearted Maggie.’ He lifted her face to his and kissed her very gently. ‘I’ll always think
of my time with you as a wonderful, happy time with no cause for regret. I hope you’ll think the same . . . Promise me you will.’

‘I promise,’ she said softly, kissing him tenderly.

Shaken, he drew away. ‘I’m going to go now, Maggie. I think it’s best. I love you, I’ll always love you, I hope things go well for you, my love. I’ll pray that they
do.’ He smiled at her, and she knew that as long as she lived she’d always carry the memory of Adam Dunne deep in her heart.

She watched him go and wept, a mixture of grief at his leaving and happiness that he had come back to her. Outside, the blackbird sang his song of joy. You have your children, she told herself
over and over. You have your children and you have your career. Now get your ass in gear and finish that chapter and don’t let Adam down. The next time he sees your face it will be on the
cover of a book. Just get out there and show him that you can do it.

Washing her face in the pure, sparkling spring water that flowed from the tap, Maggie felt as though a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. That she and Adam were friends was all that
mattered. The past was behind her now; it was time to pick up the pieces and get on with it.

Devlin and Caroline were coming down for a few days soon. That would help. Her publishers were delighted with her second novel; her children were having the best summer of their lives. She was a
lucky woman, she told herself firmly, gathering up her manuscript.

A breeze had risen, enough to blow the hair off her face. The intense heat of the day had given way to the balmy perfection of late afternoon. The scent from the hedgerows perfumed the breeze
and the drowsy humming of bumble bees lulled her senses as she eased herself into her lounger and lay back against the cushioned pillows. Later, the fragrant perfume of night-scented stock would
envelop the mobile, a fragrance that always reminded her of childhood and the flower beds outside the back door of her parents’ house. She had filled the pots on her veranda with the
blue-and-purple flower. A lark joined the blackbird. In a minute, Maggie promised herself, she would carry on correcting her final chapter. In a minute . . . Her eyelids drooped, her body relaxed,
as images of Adam filled her mind. Slowly the pages of her manuscript slid out of her grasp, as she dropped into a dreamless sleep, in the place where she had found a measure of peace and
contentment.

‘You’re
what
?’ Ria couldn’t believe her ears.

‘I won’t be able to come with you to Melanie Kelly’s engagement party on Saturday night, I’ll be down in Wicklow,’ Terry explained patiently to his angry lover, as
he knotted his tie.

‘Well, come home early then,’ she snapped.

‘I’m sorry, hon, I can’t. We’re going to Fishguard for a day-trip. God knows what time we’ll arrive back in Wicklow.’

‘I’ve had enough of this crap, Terry,’ Ria fumed, flouncing out of bed. ‘You’re gone every bloody weekend. This is not a goddamned lodging-house, you
know!’

‘Look, you know I need to have time with my kids,’ Terry said sharply. ‘I told you that when we first started living together.’

‘Well, I’ve had enough of that too,’ Ria shouted. ‘It’s either them or me. And you either come to Melanie’s party or you don’t come back here. Make up
your mind, Terry.’ She glared at him, marched into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

‘Right, I will. No bloody problem.’ Terry was galvanized into action. Dragging his case from the top of the wardrobe, he packed his shirts and socks and underwear and neatly fitted
his two suits on top. He’d had enough of living like a twenty-one-year-old. Parties, more parties and yet more parties, until he was heartily sick of them. There was a hell of a lot more to
life than sex and parties, he thought grimly. Living with Ria was not the idyll he’d expected. To know me, come live with me indeed.

Ria expected him to dance attendance on her morning, noon and night. To bring her here, to bring her there. She couldn’t cook to save her life and he was spending a fortune eating out. She
couldn’t stand it if he decided to watch a bit of sport on TV, and would start parading around half-naked expecting him to start seducing her. He was too old for that, he thought wryly. A man
in his early forties was not the goer a man in his mid-twenties, early thirties was, and Ria lived the life of someone in her teens. Terry never thought he’d admit to getting on, but one
night last week he and Ria’d been making love and he’d found himself planning to cut the lawns at home, so that they would look tidy if Maggie decided to come up from Wicklow.
He’d completely lost his erection and Ria had taken it as a personal insult.

One thing he knew: he’d far prefer to spend Saturday night with Maggie and the kids than at the engagement party of that silly woman Melanie what’s-her-name. Even worse would be
listening to Ria going on and on about him divorcing Maggie and making things permanent between them. Crikey, he couldn’t think of a worse fate. Being married to Ria would be a nightmare.
Never being fed or allowed to look at sport, expected to perform – and perform superbly – all the time! It was enough to bring a man out in a cold sweat. He wanted to go home. He missed
his kids, he missed his wife, he’d been a bloody fool and it was probably too late now. Maggie seemed quite contented without him. It was a chilling thought. Nevertheless, he was damned if he
was staying another minute with Ria.

Terry strode into the bathroom, where Ria had just finished showering. ‘Excuse me! Do you mind?’ she exclaimed.

‘Just want to get my razor and toothbrush, Ria. Oh and pass me that shaving cream and aftershave out of the cabinet, please.’

Ria was puzzled. ‘Why? What do you want them for?’

‘Hon, you told me to make up my mind one way or another and I just did,’ Terry retorted, exiting the bathroom with his toiletries.

‘Are you leaving?’ She was horrified.

‘What perception, my dear,’ Terry murmured, feeling like Rhett Butler.

‘You idiot, you gutless, spineless wimp! Run back to your wife who acts like your mother! Run back to your kids! Run back to your stodgy middle-aged rut as quickly as you can.’ Ria
almost spat the words at him.

Terry picked up his case. ‘I’m running,’ he said coldly, and left her staring open-mouthed after him.

Ria couldn’t believe it! She had made an awful blunder backing him into a corner, issuing an ultimatum to make him choose between his family and her. It was too soon for that and now she
had ruined it. Her one big chance and she had blown it. No-one would ever marry her now!

Forty-Five

‘Congratulations! It’s a great read.’

‘Oh! Thank you, thanks very much.’ Maggie beamed, her head in a whirl. The woman who had just spoken to her was the typesetter at Enterprise Publishing.

Sandra, the sales and marketing director, took her by the arm. ‘You’ve got to meet Anthony Caffrey. He’s
very
important in the book trade.’

‘Wait a minute, loveys!’ Carol swooped. ‘Maggie, you’ve got to come with me to do a quick interview for
Late Date
. Val Joyce is going to pop in later. He
promised he would and I know you’re a fan of his. Then Sandra can have you back.’

‘Maggie, I want you to meet a few people here,’ Jeremy, her publisher, interrupted suavely.

‘In a minute, Jeremy, she’s mine,’ the PR woman said crisply, and guided Maggie to a quiet corner of the restaurant where her book-launch was being held.

The smiling reporter held up the microphone for Maggie to speak into. ‘This must be the most exciting night of your life.’

‘It certainly is,’ said Maggie with a laugh. ‘I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.’

‘Have you a busy agenda for the next few weeks?’

‘That’s putting it mildly!’

‘Give our listeners an idea of the type of thing you’ll be doing, Maggie.’

‘Well, tomorrow morning, I’m doing an interview on the
Pat Kenny Show
and I’ll be in the Shelbourne doing newspaper interviews for the rest of the day.

‘On Saturday I’m doing a signing session in Wordsworth bookshop in the Merrion Centre and in Quinnsworth in my local shopping centre. Sunday is free, and then on Monday and Tuesday I
travel to Cork, Limerick and Galway for more of the same. On Thursday, it’s back up to Dublin to record an interview for
Booklines
out in RTE and on Friday I’m off up to
Belfast.’

‘You’re going to be a busy lady, Maggie,’ the attractive blonde woman said, ‘but
City Woman
is a rattling good read and I’m looking forward to your next
book.’

‘Thank you.’ Maggie couldn’t keep the smile off her face. ‘My next is called
A Time to Decide
, and it will be out next year.’

‘Congratulations!’ The reporter gave Maggie the thumbs-up sign and did a quick rewind to check that the interview had been recorded. Then she was gone and Maggie was back in the
fray.

‘Excellent,’ Carol said with satisfaction. ‘I see I can bring you anywhere. Now, look, here’s Rik Masters. He’s a pain in the ass but he’s a great
photographer and that’s all we care about. Column inches and photographs, lovey, that’s our priority for the next two weeks.’

‘Carol, darling, good show!’ Rik gushed, holding a beringed hand out to Maggie and giving her a limp handshake. ‘And you must be the lady of the moment. Seduce the camera for
me, darling,’ he breathed, and Maggie burst out laughing.

‘Lovely, lovely. Wow! Turn to the left. Now, chin down a little, eyes looking at me. Did you ever consider modelling? What divine skin. Serious now. Close your mouth, eyes tilted à
la Bacall. Sensational!’ Rik kept up the patter as he danced around, focusing his lens on her. Maggie could see Devlin grinning at her in the background and strove to keep her face straight
as instructed. She felt such a wally – but she’d better get used to this kind of thing. It was part and parcel of selling the book.

‘Fine, fine. Thanks, Carol. Take care. I’ve got to dash. I’m at a Presidential do next.’ Rik sighed dramatically and strode through the throng.

‘Excuse me. Would you sign a copy of your book for me, please?’ a young woman asked diffidently.

‘Certainly.’ Maggie was thrilled. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Rachel Taylor,’ she replied shyly and Maggie signed the flyleaf for her.

‘I hope you enjoy it,’ she said.

‘Oh I will,’ the young woman said enthusiastically. ‘I love books like this.’ She clutched the thick hardback to her chest and smiled again as someone else came up and
asked Maggie to sign another copy of
City Woman
.

‘You’re playing a blinder.’ Devlin glided up beside her and gave her an encouraging pat on the back.

‘It’s going well, isn’t it?’ Maggie bubbled.

‘It’s going fantastic; the atmosphere is terrific. Point them all out to me now. Which one is Marcy and who’s Sandra? That must be Jeremy.’ Devlin nodded towards the
tall, thin man with the half-moon glasses who was in earnest conversation with the owner of the restaurant.

‘That’s Marcy.’ Maggie discreetly indicated her slim, elegantly dressed editor who was just then speaking to someone on her mobile phone. ‘And that’s Sandra over
there. Isn’t she glamorous?’ The sales and marketing director was dressed to impress in a beautifully tailored red suit, her shining black bob perfectly cut, her make-up flawless as
usual.

‘You look pretty good yourself,’ Devlin retorted. Maggie was wearing a deep purple three-quarter-length silk jacket over an elegant black cocktail dress. The colour was stunning on
her, and Terry’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw her.

Terry was over in a corner chatting to her parents and his mother and despite all that had happened between them, Maggie was glad he was there. He had changed quite a lot from the brash
devil-may-care Terry. He seemed to appreciate much more the effort she put into the rearing of the children and the running of the home. After leaving Ria, he had moved into a small mews belonging
to a friend who was on a six-month course in Germany.

Only yesterday he had amazed her yet again. She had been like a madwoman trying to get organized for the launch and tidying the house for their respective parents’ overnight stay. She was
in the kitchen making a tart when she heard Terry going into the utility room and saw him reappearing with the hoover. ‘Mimi spilt some popcorn she was eating; I’ll just clear it
up,’ he announced matter-of-factly, and went off and cleaned up the sitting-room.

Maggie had stood with her mouth open. Terry, hoovering! Off his own bat!
And
he was cutting the lawns without being asked.
And
he often took up the tea-towel and started drying
the dishes as she was washing, something he’d never done before. It wasn’t that he was being ingratiating or trying to get in her good books, she’d decided; it just seemed to be
because he was now so used to doing things like that for himself in his own place.

He had asked her if she wanted him to come to the launch or not. They still hadn’t said anything about their separation to their respective families and Maggie thought it would look a bit
odd if he wasn’t there. Besides, in a funny kind of way, she wanted him there. When all was said and done, he was still her husband and the father of her children, and she couldn’t deny
the fact that when he had told her he had ended his relationship with Ria she had been really glad. She had always hated that woman’s guts. Now Maggie felt that she was finally out of their
lives for good. Maybe Terry felt the same thing about Adam, whom he had never met. At least the rows had stopped and they were getting on reasonably well and he seemed to appreciate the children
much more. When he had offered to spend the week at home so she could be off about her publicity, Maggie had been very grateful.

‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ she asked him anxiously. Not wishing to impose, now that he was no longer living at home, she felt guilty to have him taking time off because of
her.