Foreign Affairs (78 page)

‘Bring her,’ Paula said immediately.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course, we’ll have a bit of a laugh. A friend’s flying in from New York and she’s promised to bring me some Häägen-Dazs.’

‘We’re coming,’ Jennifer said instantly. She was a sucker for the rich creamy American ice cream. ‘Is it chocolate chip?’

Paula laughed. ‘I hope so, that’s what I asked for. See you Friday.’

‘OK, I’m putting you through to Kieran.’

‘Hi, Paula,’ she heard her boss say cheerfully.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ she demanded. ‘It had better be good or I’m charging this call to your account.’

‘That’s lovely, I must compliment you on your telephone manner,’ Kieran retorted. ‘You’re a tyrant, Paula Matthews, you should hear what your staff say about you
behind your back,’ he teased. ‘The reason I phoned is because Jolly Johnson’s handed in her notice. She’s going to live in Bolivia with a horse-breeder—’

‘You’re not serious?’ Paula guffawed.

‘I am serious,’ Kieran insisted, laughing himself.

‘Well she won’t be sorry to know she’ll never have to see me again,’ Paula said drily. Miss Johnson had been speechless when Kieran had told her he was giving Paula the
responsibility of getting Holiday Villa up and running. She thought Paula was a lightweight who was only interested in men. It had been hard for the personnel manager to accept that Paula had
actually made a success of the enterprise, and even harder to swallow that she had to have dealings with her couriers. Paula and Jolly Johnson had some mighty battles. Paula was not a bit sorry to
hear she was leaving. She was dying to get home and have the dinner party on Friday. Jenny would have all the news.

‘When will you be free to hold the interviews with me?’ Kieran asked.

‘You want me to sit in on the interviews?’ Paula was surprised.

‘Of course, Paula. You have to deal with whoever is taking over. I want to make sure you get on with them. I couldn’t take another four years of the Jolly-versus-Paula feud.
I’m nearly addicted to valium as it is!’

‘Hold on until I check my diary.’ Paula grinned. ‘Is it an open competition?’

‘Yeah, but I hope there’ll be in-house applicants. I think I’d prefer someone we know. I like to be able to promote my staff. It keeps me on my toes. If I’m not careful,
your operation will be making a bigger profit than mine. And you’ll be looking for a bigger salary than me.’

‘A Harley will do fine,’ Paula retorted.

Kieran laughed. ‘I have a proposition for you when you get back.’

‘What?’ she demanded.

‘I’m not telling you. I’ll let you treat me to dinner and then I’ll tell you all about it.’

‘Swine.’ She knew Kieran of old. There was no point in asking because he wouldn’t tell her. ‘Before you go, Kieran. Did you hear about the Scullys?’ Paula
asked.

‘Yeah, I did. What do you want to do about it?’

‘I want to get Legal on to it. That’s if it’s OK with you. Or would you prefer not to? I know he’s got a lot of friends in town, it might affect us. But I would like to
get damages from the bastard.’

‘You go right ahead, Paula. I don’t think Peter has as many friends as he thinks he has. Anyway it makes no difference, he’s not getting away with it. I’ll back you up
totally.’

‘Thanks, Kieran. I’ll see you soon. Take care.’ Paula hung up with a smile. Kieran was a most supportive boss. She knew she was extremely lucky.

She showered and dressed and was ready and waiting when Pierre arrived with an exquisitely scented single yellow rose. ‘For a very beautiful woman.’

‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ Paula said lightly.

‘I hope so,’ smiled the Frenchman. He was not conventionally handsome. His features were too irregular for that. But he had a rugged attractiveness and brown eyes that darkened to
black sometimes. He was as different to Nick in looks and temperament as could be. That was his greatest attraction for Paula.

‘I’ve booked us a table at a little restaurant further along the coast. It serves magnificent fish dishes. I think you’ll like it, the views are spectacular.’

‘Sounds good. I’m hungry,’ Paula responded.

‘
Et moi aussi
,’ Pierre replied, giving her one of his intense looks. Paula knew he was not referring to food. She felt a little tingle of anticipation. She had not slept
with a man since her affair with Juan Carlos. She hadn’t wanted to. Nick was always on her mind. She had thrown herself into her work and found consolation of sorts in her success. Four years
was a long time to be celibate, she thought as Pierre slid a protective arm around her as he escorted her to the car.

The drive from Nice eastwards along the coast was breathtaking. It was dusk and the lights twinkled along the curve of the coast like a diamond necklace against black velvet, growing brighter
and more intense as the evening deepened into night. Pierre was a good conversationalist. Paula sat back and began to enjoy herself. Further along the coast was Monaco. Trips to the casinos of
Monte Carlo would be an added bonus for clients who decided to holiday on the Riviera. Paula was confident that her new location would be a big success.

Over dinner they discussed the final details and agreed on terms. Paula was satisfied. She’d got a good deal. So had Pierre. After the signing of the contracts the next day, it would be
all systems go.

She bit into a delicious scallop. It was a long time since she had eaten scallops. Her father used to bring home a big bag of them on Friday nights and lightly fry them in butter for less than a
minute so that the wild tang of the sea could still be tasted. Or he’d bring home crabs and cook them and they’d all sit at the big wooden table in the kitchen, digging the meat out of
the claws and the belly with the handle of a spoon, feasting and laughing. A sudden nostalgia overcame her. Helen and Nick and Nicola were to spend Easter with Maura and Pete this year. They
wouldn’t be in Dublin when she returned tomorrow. She wouldn’t see them until the following week. Maybe they were all sitting down to a banquet of scallops or crab meat at this very
minute. She wished she was with them.

‘You look sad, Paula,’ she heard Pierre say.

‘I was just thinking of home,’ she said wistfully.

‘I am losing my touch.’ Pierre smote his brow theatrically. ‘Here I am doing my best to impress you with scintillating conversation and you are thinking of being at home.
Mon Dieu, quel désastre!
’

Paula laughed. ‘Don’t be so dramatic, Pierre. I’m having a lovely time. And the meal is superb.’

‘No compliments about my conversation, I shall say no more,’ Pierre joked.

They lingered over coffee. By the time Pierre’s car drew up outside her hotel, Paula knew she was going to spend the night with him. They took the lift. They kissed as it glided smoothly
upwards. It was good to feel a man’s arms around her again. Pierre kissed her lightly, exploring, tasting, reminding her of how she’d always enjoyed sex. She returned his kisses,
wanting more. Wanting to be swept along in a tide of passion. Wanting to erase all memories of and longings for Nick.

Pierre undressed her. Kissed every inch of her body, stroked his fingers lightly down the curve of her spine and along the soft inner part of her thighs until she was frantic with desire. Only
then did he enter her and make long slow sensual love to her. Afterwards, as she lay cradling him in her arms, a deep sense of relief flowed through her. I’m over him, she thought exultantly,
I must be or I wouldn’t have been able to do this. Thank God, I’m over Nick at last.

Chapter Seventy-Seven

‘He’s a real Frenchman, oodles of charm, witty, intelligent, warm. We had a wonderful evening.’ Paula refilled the wine glasses on the table as she told her
pals about her latest flame.

‘Sounds divine,’ Beth said enviously. She was manless at the moment and working in an insurance company, which she hated. She envied her friend in the nicest possible way. ‘I
knew when I came to dinner tonight I’d feel jealous.’

‘Don’t be. I thought you were going to do a word-processing course. You really should, Beth. Everyone is using computers. You’ll get the cream of the jobs.’

‘Ronan will be able to help you out there. I’ve told you that,’ Jennifer said patiently. They’d had this conversation before.

‘I know, I know. It’s just the thought of studying at night.’ Beth sighed.

‘No pain, no gain,’ Paula said briskly. ‘You never did the language courses.’

‘Well I had secretarial skills when you were looking for someone in the office,’ Beth said resentfully.

‘You didn’t have word-processing. I have everything on computer. I run a high-tech office and the girls I employ are up to date with all the new technology. Besides,’ Paula
insisted, ‘you’d hate it if I was your boss. Imagine
you
putting up with me telling you what to do? Imagine if I had to eat the face off you? It wouldn’t work. I told you
that at the time and I’m telling you now,’ Paula said firmly.

‘Yeah, I know. It’s just the two of you are doing so well. You just waltzed into TransCon and now look at you. And look at me.’

‘Beth, we didn’t just “waltz” in, as you put it,’ Jennifer said crossly. ‘We both had something to offer because we’d worked at it. Both of us could
speak fluent Spanish, relatively good French, and Paula can speak German. Be fair.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Beth apologized. ‘I’m being a bitch. It is my own fault. I got a mediocre Leaving Cert because I wouldn’t swot and I used my accident as an
excuse. I know I’ve got to do something and I keep putting it off.’

‘I’d do a word-processing course with you if you like,’ Rachel offered. The other three turned to look at her in amazement.

‘What do you want word-processing for?’ Jennifer asked. ‘Teaching hasn’t got that technical, has it?’

‘Maybe I don’t want to be a teacher all my life,’ Rachel retorted. ‘Beth is right. You and Paula make us ordinary mortals feel dull and boring. Teaching four-year-olds
how to count is OK, and there is job satisfaction when they start to cop on, but you wouldn’t meet a dishy Frenchman in Beth’s insurance company or in St Catherine’s Primary
School.’ She giggled. Rachel was slightly tipsy.

They all started to laugh. ‘Have more wine,’ invited Paula. She was enjoying the evening immensely. She’d served smoked salmon and sour cream, decorated with dill, on thin
slices of brown bread for a starter. Followed by chilli, and baked potatoes with a side salad. Now for the
pièce de résistance.

‘I’ll just go and get dessert,’ she said. She walked out into her compact modern kitchen. She liked living in an apartment, she thought happily as she took a huge bowl of
strawberries from the fridge. She’d moved in here about a year and a half ago. It was a bright modern two-bedroom apartment off Mobhi Road. It was ideal for work and the airport. It was near
Jenny and Beth, and Helen and Nick and her goddaughter. Helen and Nick had bought a house in Cremore. A stone’s throw away. It was a beautiful big house that they had decorated superbly. They
were very happy.

You’re over him, she thought determinedly. Pierre had proved that. Tonight she felt happy. The relief of knowing that her unrequited love was over was incredible. Paula had begun to think
she’d never find another man attractive.

It was a treat having the girls for dinner. There was nothing like a good giggly ladies’ night for lifting the spirits. Wait until they saw the dessert. Triumphantly, she carried in the
bowl of fresh strawberries and a jug of cream. Then she re-emerged from the kitchen with four dishes of Häagen-Dazs ice cream.

‘Get that into you,’ she declared, placing the dishes of ice cream in front of the drooling guests.

Paula was well pleased with the reactions. She spooned some strawberries into her dish, mixed them with the luscious ice cream and allowed the sinfully delicious mixture to slide down her
throat. There was plenty to go around if anyone wanted seconds.

‘We’ll have to get a taxi home, Rachel,’ Jennifer giggled. ‘You can’t drive, you’re tiddly.’

‘Do you hear the black kettle . . . ?’ Rachel tittered.

‘You mean the kettle calling the pot black,’ guffawed Beth.

‘Stay the night, the pair of you,’ Paula suggested. ‘Beth was going to anyway.’

‘Dead right,’ snorted Beth. ‘I’m no fool.’

‘I’ll just give Ronan a ring.’

‘There’s no answer,’ Jennifer called from the kitchen, where she was using the extension. ‘I’ll try Brenda and Shay’s. He was going to go for a pint with
Shay.’ Jennifer gave a running commentary as she dialled Brenda’s number.

‘Oh dear.’ She threw her eyes up to heaven as she came back into the sitting-room.

‘Shay and Ronan went for a pint. And Brenda’s babysitter didn’t turn up, so Brenda couldn’t go to her keep-fit class and she’s like a demon. Especially when I told
her to tell Ronan I was staying the night with you because Rachel and I are in no condition to go home.’

‘Poor Bren.’ Paula was uncharacteristically sympathetic. ‘I’d go mad if I was stuck at home with three children.’

‘It was what she wanted,’ Jennifer retorted.

‘Yeah, but the twins were a bit of a shock so soon after Claudia,’ Beth added.

‘I know,’ Jennifer agreed.

‘I feel my time is running out,’ Beth sighed. ‘I’m twenty-six and no sign of a man.’

‘There’s no rush,’ Paula declared. ‘Lots of women don’t start their families until they’re in their thirties. Look at Brenda, tied down with three kids.
She’s done nothing with her life. She might have thought it was what she wanted. But I bet if you asked her to change places with you, Jenny, she’d jump at it.’

‘Well you know Brenda. She’s never satisfied. The other man’s grass is always greener,’ Jennifer said.

‘When I come up to stay with Jenny, I always say that I’m going to leave Bray and get a job in Dublin and start living as opposed to existing. I’m full of good intentions and
plans but once I get home it all fizzles out,’ said Rachel. ‘I think the other man’s grass is greener too,’ she added glumly. ‘I think you’re terrific,’
she told Paula. ‘You’ve got everything. A high-powered career that takes you to all the sun spots. Men fall all over you. You have fabulous looks and a great figure. You’ve got it
all, Paula. I bet there’s no-one in this world that you’d rather be. No-one’s grass is greener than yours.’