Happy Ever After (38 page)

Still, at least she could come and visit Miss Hope, and it had been fun driving down with Debbie. It had been great, too, to confide in her. Having an older sister was deadly. She’d never realized what a comfort it could be. Debbie seemed quite sure that her parents wouldn’t divorce, that it was only a row that would pass. She would know – she was married, too, and even she and Bryan had rows.

The best thing of all was that Debbie had complimented her on her weight loss. All her hard work was really paying off. It made starving herself worth it. She’d been a bit horrified when Debbie had suggested the Chinese, but she’d managed not to eat most of it by discreetly chewing and spitting. Later, when she got home, she would make herself puke, even though she didn’t really like doing it. Making herself puke was wrong, it was bad for her body, but eating crap food was even worse, and stern measures had to be taken. But she wouldn’t think about that now. She was having too much of a nice time. All in all, it had been quite a good evening, Melissa decided, kissing the top of Miss Hope’s furry head and receiving a reciprocal and very welcome lick back.

‘You had no business telling Connie I was pregnant, Barry Adams, and you never told me you’d given Melissa permission to drive down to Greystones with Debbie.’ Aimee launched into her attack the minute Barry walked in the door. Unusually for her, she was home first, having been reluctant to spend more time than necessary with a sullen and furious Ian.

‘Ah, gimme a break, Aimee, I’m not in the mood to listen to you yakking on,’ Barry snarled as he dumped his briefcase in the hall. ‘For your information I didn’t tell Connie that you were pregnant. I wouldn’t dream of it, knowing how you feel about her. Melissa let it slip when we bumped into her and Debbie in Dun Laoghaire the morning you took the test. She’s just a kid. She was excited, and out it came.’

‘Well, you could have told me she knew. She went and told my mother, and she’s in a sulk because I hadn’t told her about it, and the whole bloody world knows, as far as I can see.’

‘Yeah, well, these things happen,’ he snapped. ‘Deal with it.’

‘You know the way
I
want to deal with it,’ she yelled, incensed at his attitude.

‘If you had
really
wanted to have a termination, you’d have had it, no matter what I said, so stop blaming
me
, Aimee, and stop being such a walking bitch while you’re at it.’ He raised his own voice, safe in the knowledge that they could fight in peace without Melissa overhearing them.

‘And know that you’d have it hanging over me, judging me? And never knowing if you’d tell Melissa? No thank you, Barry.’ She was white-faced.

‘I wouldn’t do that. What sort of a bastard do you think I am? I’d never lay that on Melissa’s shoulders.’ He was stunned at her accusation.

‘But you don’t mind what you lay on mine, do you, Barry?’ she accused bitterly. ‘I’m the one with most to lose in this scenario, but you don’t care.’

‘I do care, if you’d let me, goddamnit, but you weren’t even going to tell me, were you?’ he challenged.

‘I don’t know any more,’ Aimee muttered, suddenly weary. She sat down on the sofa as dizziness overcame her.

‘Are you OK?’ Barry looked at her in concern. She was as white as a sheet.

‘What do you care?’ she retorted, putting her head in her hands.

‘I do care,’ he said, all the anger ebbing out of his voice as he saw how pale she looked. ‘Lie down, and I’ll get you a drink of water.’ He eased her gently back against the cushions, and she felt too sick to resist. Moments later, he was at her side, raising her up and holding the glass to her lips. She sipped the cold water and lay back against the cushions.

‘Do you want me to call a doctor?’ he asked, taking the glass from her and sitting beside her.

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t get time to eat lunch today; it’s probably a dip in blood sugar. I’ll get something to eat in a minute.’

‘Ah, Aimee,’ he groaned. ‘That’s not good for you. You’ve got to take care of yourself, for your own sake as well as the baby’s. Will I make you an omelette, or some toast and scrambled eggs?’ he offered.

‘OK, some toast and eggs,’ she agreed, closing her eyes. She lay on the sofa, listening to him move around the kitchen. For the first time in a long while she’d seen a little of the old, kind, supportive Barry. Fighting was so exhausting; she didn’t have the energy for it any more, and it was easier to let him cook her something than to have to bother herself.

She’d fallen asleep, and he had to rouse her. She sat up sleepily, suddenly famished as the smell of hot, buttery toast and creamy yellow scrambled eggs garnished with a sprinkling of parsley made her mouth water. He’d added some strips of smoked salmon to the plate, and she ate with relish, noting how attractively he’d presented the tasty meal on the TV tray: a linen napkin folded neatly, extra toast in the rack, a small ramekin of capers and olives on the side and a glass of milk.

‘Thanks,’ she said gratefully when she’d finished.

‘Cuppa?’ he asked, taking the tray from her.

‘I’d murder a glass of wine, but I suppose a cuppa will have to do,’ she said, kicking off her shoes and swinging her legs back on to the sofa. It was nice being looked after and mollycoddled. Her phone rang, and she slid it out of its designated pocket in her bag. It irritated her, watching women scrabbling about in handbags for their phones; she always knew where hers was. She saw with surprise that it was Ian. Maybe he’d had a rethink and was going to increase his offer, she thought smugly. And rightly so. But unless it was mega bucks, she was leaving
Chez Moi
for good. It would be good to hear him grovel though.

‘Hello,’ she said coolly.

‘Aimee, it’s Ian. Don’t bother coming back tomorrow. I’d prefer not to have you in the office. You’ll be paid until your notice is up. I’ll take over your client list myself.’

‘I do have some personal items in my office,’ she pointed out icily, caught completely off guard. ‘And I’d like to say thank you to the team.’

‘Your possessions will be couriered over to you, and I’ll say your thanks for you,’ Ian said snootily, and hung up.

Aimee stared at the phone. So Ian was playing dirty, and she was being locked out. Well, she could play just as dirty. Wasn’t it just as well she’d taken copies of all the files she might need, plus a copy of the entire client list and all their contact details? She knew that, if she went to log into her work files, the password would have been changed and she wouldn’t be able to access them. Ian would have seen to that.

Aimee lay back against the cushions. She had her PA, Miranda’s, personal phone number on her mobile. She had plans for her. Miranda had been a first-rate PA, calm in a crisis and thoroughly dependable. She hoped the offer of a good salary increase would induce her to move to Hibernian Dreams. Lia Collins, one of the secretaries, had an excellent phone manner, and Aimee felt she would do very well in reception. First contact and front of house was so important, and Lia would be perfect in the job.

‘How are you feeling now?’ Barry asked as he came back into the lounge with a mug of tea and a Tunnock’s teacake for her.

‘Better,’ she said. ‘Thanks for the meal.’

‘Could you not tell Ian you’re pregnant, and maybe he’d give you extra help or something,’ Barry said tentatively.

‘Right now, Ian would stab me in the back if he could get his hands on me,’ Aimee said, amused at the notion of her erstwhile boss trying to make life easier for her.

‘Why, what’s wrong with him?’

‘I resigned today,’ Aimee said slowly. ‘I got that big job offer in spite of being pregnant. I’m setting up a new company for Roger O’Leary and a partner of his. I’m going to be the MD after all. Fair dues to Roger – even knowing that I’d have to take maternity leave didn’t put him off.’

‘Oh! Congratulations. Well done, you deserve it,’ Barry said awkwardly.

‘Thanks, it’s going to be hard work, and I certainly won’t be taking a long break once I give birth. I hope to be back at work within the month.’ Aimee yawned.

‘But what about the baby?’ Barry protested. ‘Are you going to breastfeed this time?’

‘Absolutely not.’ She shuddered. ‘I didn’t with Melissa. And, as for the baby, Barry, you wanted it,
you
look after it,’ Aimee said firmly, and closed her eyes, glad she had made
that
crystal clear.

Barry threw his eyes up to heaven and marched out of the room, grim-faced, their temporary truce well and truly over.

‘Home sweet home,’ Juliet muttered as the taxi crunched the gravel behind her and she rooted for her key. Ken’s car wasn’t there. A small mercy, she thought dejectedly. She’d decided to fly home and get herself sorted. It had been almost impossible to get into relaxation mode again after her confrontation with Ken. Her thoughts kept racing as she played various scenarios out in her head. In her heart and soul, she knew that if she stayed living with him, very little would change. If she wanted to live life on her own terms, she’d have to get a place of her own, even if they didn’t go as far as divorcing. But if Ken decided to be insufferable about it all, she would get herself the best lawyer she could find and fleece him, she vowed as she walked into the silent house and felt that old familiar miasma of oppression smother her.

She’d phoned Connie and Karen to let them know that she was flying home, and they’d made her promise to keep in touch. She intended to. Their blossoming friendship was one good thing to come out of the sorry saga, and she was extremely grateful for all their help and support.

Ken had moved back into their bedroom, she noted ten minutes later as she unpacked her case. Well, he could move right back out again, she decided, picking up his pyjamas and dressing gown and walking across the hall to the guest room with them.

It was almost dark when he got home, and she guessed he’d been golfing. ‘So you’re back,’ he said coldly as he saw her at the kitchen table with a mug of hot chocolate in front of her.

‘Not for long, Ken,’ she said quietly. ‘We can do this the hard way or the easy way, it’s entirely up to you.’

‘And what do you mean by that?’ he said brusquely, taking a can of diet tonic water out of the fridge.

‘I want a place of my own, Ken. I don’t care if we divorce or not, but I’m leaving and, if you don’t give me what I want – a place to live and a decent allowance, plus a share of your pensions – I’m going to get a divorce lawyer and go the whole hog and it will cost you a hell of a lot more, and you’ll probably end up having to give me a hell of a lot more too. I’m not a mean person, Ken, you know that, and I’m not a money-grabber, but I’ll do what I have to do unless you agree to my terms.’ She said her piece calmly, confidently and firmly, knowing that, if she showed any sign of weakness, she was a goner.

‘Now listen here, Juliet,’ he blustered, ‘this is ridic—’

She stood and held up her hand. ‘I’ve said what I had to say. You decide,’ she said, and walked out of the kitchen.

She was sitting in her dressing gown, the bedroom door closed, when she heard him come up the stairs. She heard him pause and, then, to her surprise, knock. Usually, he barged into the room.

She swallowed and her stomach was spasming with nervous tension. ‘Yes?’ she managed.

‘I don’t want you to leave me. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.’ Ken stood ramrod straight just inside the bedroom. He looked tired, careworn. His thick white hair needed a cut, she noted, back in wifely mode. She felt a flicker of sympathy for him and then realized what she was doing. She couldn’t afford to go back down that road.

‘I need to live my own life for a while, Ken,’ she said tiredly. ‘I want to concentrate on my needs before I get too old and decrepit to enjoy the things I like to do. We don’t have to divorce if you don’t want to. We can just separate.’

‘But I need you. You know how to run my life. It always runs so smoothly when you’re here. Like clockwork. And the house is lonely when you’re not here. Please, Juliet, reconsider,’ he said hoarsely, and she knew for him even to admit that much was a huge effort. She knew, too, that it was now or never. It was her last chance to make a fresh start.

‘Look, Ken, I don’t
want
to run your life, I want to
live
mine and that’s why I have to go. It doesn’t mean we won’t see each other. We can have dinner occasionally, go to family events together, but I can’t live like this any more. I’m sorry.’

He stared at her in disbelief, his blue eyes clouded with shock, the lines on his forehead drawn together in a perplexed frown. ‘But I provided very well for you. You never wanted for anything. Has it been that bad?’ he demanded truculently.

‘You have no idea,’ Juliet said bitterly, twisting the cord of her gown between her fingers.

Ken exhaled a deep breath. His shoulders sagged in defeat. ‘Do what you want, Juliet, but I’d prefer if we didn’t divorce – if that’s all the same to you,’ he added, with a touch of sarcasm.

‘That suits me fine. Goodnight, Ken.’ She turned away from him so that he wouldn’t see the tears that were sliding down her cheeks as sadness mingled with relief that one part of her life had ended.

‘Will we go for a cheap ’n’ cheerful dinner tonight, seeing as it’s payday, and have a chat about making a start on sorting our finances?’ Debbie ventured as she applied her eyeliner and caught Bryan looking at her ass in the mirror. They hadn’t had sex for a while, and she guessed he was feeling randy.

‘OK,’ he said sulkily. ‘Where do you want to go?’

‘The early bird in the Talbot 101, or Mario’s?’ she suggested.

‘Might as well meet in town, if we’re going for the early bird.’

‘101 then.’

‘Right, see ya there around six thirty,’ he agreed, picking up his mobile phone before heading downstairs.

‘OK, I’ll book a table,’ she called cheerfully, glad that there was a thaw of sorts.

It was typical, though, she thought twenty minutes later as she stood swaying on a crowded Dart. She had had to make the first move. God knows how long the ‘silence’ would have lasted if it had been left to Bryan. As long as they had been together he had never been the one to make up. It was just the way he was, she supposed. He’d been spoilt rotten as a child and, even now, Brona Kinsella couldn’t do enough for her much loved son. She should have her parents-in-law over to dinner one of these days, although she’d much prefer to have Connie. The train slowed into Tara Street, and she was pushed and shoved towards the exit before escaping on to the crowded platform.