Mr Right for the Night (28 page)

She felt fifteen again. She’d sat on this bench when she  was  fifteen.  Well maybe  not  exactly  the  same bench but one just like it. Fifteen had been a horrible  age when she’d hated her mother, resented her father and thought her brother was the biggest bollix in the entire universe.

They’d stayed in a caravan  just up the road. It had rained  for the week. Everybody  had  been so pissed off with the weather  and Anna had resigned herself to the glum fact that  she’d never ever get herself a boyfriend  no  matter   how  hard  she  tried  looking for one.

Claire had gone to Florida  that  year and Victoria had  been sent as a paying  guest to a family in the south  of France.

They’d  all  been  tanned   and  gorgeous   back  in school  on  the  first  of  September.  And  Anna  had been her usual white and unattractive self.

Thank  God she’d never be fifteen again.

She wondered if he’d rung  yet. Probably  not.  It was  too  soon.  Maybe  he  wasn’t  going  to  ring  at all. Maybe he was a serial dater.  And had even met someone else since yesterday. Men were fast movers. At this very minute he could well be giving somebody else the eye. There coul
d be another hopeful girl sit
ting right now i
n that fabulous
penthouse imagining
a bright  future as Darren’s other
half.

Maybe  this  new  girl would  go all the  way  with him and he’d forget the frigid Bridget who’d fled the previous  evening  like
a frightened  rabbit. Another
one bites the dust,  Anna thought mournfully as she kicked  the ground  with  the heel of her boot.  Feck him anyway.  Feck him  and  every other  man  she’d had the misfortune to come in contact  with.

Feck them all!

‘He rang,’ Aoife was almost hyperventilating back in the apartment.

‘Did  he?’  Anna  could  hardly   conceal  her  joy.

‘What did he say?’

‘He said to ring straight  back.’

‘Did he sound  disappointed I wasn’t in?’

‘Not really,’ her flatmate  admitted.

‘Oh  . . . maybe  then  he was  just  ringing  out  of politeness.’

‘Rubbish.  Men never ring just to be polite.’

Anna thought about  it. Aoife was right. Men only rang when  they  wanted  something. Well that  was good  then.  It  meant  that  Darren   wanted  her.  He wanted HER!

‘So are you going to ring back?’ Aoife asked.

‘No.’

‘What do you mean,  no? Have  you lost the plot or what?’

‘No,’ Anna repeated.

‘He’s waiting  for your call though.’

‘Let him wait.  It’s his turn.’

‘But he mightn’t  ring back.’

‘He will,’ Anna  said  confidently.  ‘Men  mightn’t ring initially.  But when they do ring and you’re not in, they always ring back.’

‘I wish I was more like you,’ Aoife’s voice was full of admiration. ‘You’re so strong.’

‘Believe me, I’m not that strong,’ Anna said quietly. It was a vicious circle. She was dying to ring him. But  if  she  did  he  might  think  she  was  too  keen.

Desperate
even.

She’d have  to  pace  herself.  She hoped  she  was right  about  him ringing  back.  She was almost  one hundred per cent sure he would. Men hated to think someone  else was doing  the rejecting.  They’d such massive egos. But how was she going to stop herself from  lifting  that  phone  and  dialling  his  number? Somebody would have to sellotape her hands behind her back.

She’d ring  Claire,  that’s  what  she’d  do.  Claire would be able to give her tons of advice. She picked up the phone.

‘Are you ringing him after all?’ Aoife enquired.

‘Absolutely not,’ Anna shook  her head.

Simon answered  the phone. He sounded  different. His voice was strained.

‘She’s not here, I’m afraid,’ he answered.

‘When will she be back?’

‘God only knows,  Anna.  God only knows.’

Claire  sat  nervously  outside  Tom’s  apartment  in Dalkey.  She had no idea what  she was planning  on doing.  But one  thing  was  sure.  She’d had  enough. Enough  of  the  painful   bouts   of  silence  that   had become  the  norm  in that  place  herself  and  Simon called ‘home’.

Her husband didn’t love her any more. Well, if he did, he had a very funny way of showing  it. Maybe he loved Shelley. Or maybe he was too wrapped up in himself to love anybody.  Relationships were hard work. Everybody knew that. But Claire didn’t know if she could  be bothered handling  any more  work. There was only so much giving one person could do. She switched off the
engine and checked her appear
ance  in the  side mirror.  Her  reflection  didn’t  look bad for someone who was crying inside. She stepped out of the car and locked it. Mechanically she walked towards the entrance  of the apartment block.

‘Come on up,’ Tom sounded  genuinely delighted to hear her voice.

Wearing faded denims and a dark grey sweatshirt,
Tom certainly  didn’t look like he’d any plans  to go out. Spontaneously he kissed Claire’s flushed cheeks and ushered  her into the warm  apartment.

‘Are you okay?’ He looked  at her with concern. Claire  opened  her  mouth  to  say  something  but
instead,  to her horror, she felt her face crumble and a hot tear slid down  the side of her cheek.

Mortified, she brushed it away with the side of her hand.  But then another one fell. And another one.

‘Sit down,’ Tom ordered  gently. ‘Surely it can’t be as bad as all that.’

‘It’s worse,’ Claire sniffed. God, she was pathetic. Here  she  was  blabbing   on  to  a  virtual   stranger about the  ‘trauma’  concerning  her  dull  life as  an urban housewife,
when  he had  lost his fiancé
e in a horrific  accident.  Who  exactly  should  be  the  one crying here?

‘Simon’s having an affair,’ she blurted.

‘How do you know?’ Tom handed  her a Kleenex. He was very calm as i
f there could be a very reason
able explanation for all of this.

‘He told me he was going out with one of the lads from work  tonight.’

‘And?’

‘And I asked  him  if Shelley was  one  of the  lads and he said yes.’

‘But that doesn’t mean he’s having an affair,’ Tom said quietly.

‘I know,  I know.  It’s just  a woman’s  instinct  is pretty strong.’

‘So where are they going?’

‘They’re not going anywhere  now,’ Claire sniffed.

‘I walked  out and left him with Andrew.’

‘I don’t  know  what  to say, Claire,’ Tom  sighed.
‘It’s not  really  right  to  interfere  in  other  people’s relationships.’

‘You’re so  good  though,’  Claire  placed  a  hand on  his.  ‘One  day  you’ll make  some  girl extremely happy.’

She noticed he winced at her words. Oh God, what had she just gone and said now? She was an idiot. A total dingbat.

‘I’m sorry,  I––’ she  stopped  mid-sentence  as  he drew  her  close  to  him  and  let  her  head  rest  on his chest.

‘Ssh,’ he  soothed, ‘t
here’s  no  need  to  say  any
thing.’

He  stroked  her  hair  as  she  clung  to  him.  Why couldn’t Simon be more like Tom? Why did terrible things happen   to  nice  people  like  him?  It  wasn’t fair. She snuggled in closer. Tom’s body was lovely and  warm. She hadn’t  been  cuddled  by a man  in so long.

‘Tom?’ She looked up at him, aware of how close her face was to his.

He tilted  her chin with  his forefinger  and  looked deep into her eyes.

‘Claire,’  he  murmured.  And  slowly  but   surely their  lips met and  they
kissed softly,  sweetly,  cau
tiously.

She pressed herself against him and let him slip his tongue through her slightly parted  lips. Their kissing gradually  became  more  frantic,  more  urgent.  How could  this  be so wrong,  Claire  wondered, when  it felt so right.  She threw  any niggling reservations to the wind and ran her fingers through his hair, tasting his soft strong lips, hungry for him. His hands began to gently explore her body.  She closed her eyes and concentrated on his every move. She hadn’t felt such desire  since the  birth  of  her  baby.  Her  baby!  Oh God!  Andrew  was at home with  his grumpy  father while his mother  – the woman he depended  on for everything  – was  behaving  like  an  oversexed  slut with a strange  man.

‘This is all wrong,  Claire,’ Tom spoke first.

‘I know,’  she withdrew from  him,  ‘you’re right. My  life’s too  messed  up  to  contemplate  starting  an affair.’

She sat up straight  on the sofa and rearranged her clothes.  Tom  was smiling at her.  She smiled back. She felt free. For the first time in a long time, Claire no longer felt trapped.

‘Thank you,’ her voice was genuine.

‘For what?’

‘For making  me feel like a normal  human  being again.’

‘You don’t hate me then?’

‘Of course not,  I quite fancy you actually  . . .’

‘Ditto,’ he said dreamily.

‘I’d still  like  to  be  your  friend,’  she  said,  ‘and
I mean  that  genuinely.  Since Anna  has  moved  to
Galway  I’ve been feeling a bit low.’

‘Well, I know what you mean. A lot of my friends were frien
ds of both of ours – my fiancé
e and myself. They feel kind of awkward around me now. I kind of understand where  they’re coming  from  . . . I might feel awkward too in the same situation.’

‘Do you think  you’ll ever fall in love again?’

‘You never know,’ he gave a distant smile. ‘Recently

I find all the good ones are married.’ They both  laughed.

‘Don’t rush  into  marriage,’  she warned.  ‘It’s not all it’s cracked  up to be.’

‘Simon doesn’t  sound  like such a bad  guy.’ Tom handed  her her coat.  ‘You two will work  this out.’

‘Hopefully,’ Claire grimaced.

‘Will you be okay?’ he hugged her.

‘Yep,’ she tried  to smile optimistically. ‘I’ll be in touch.  You’ll  have  to  come  out  with  me  and  my friend Anna – she’s mad.’

‘Well, I’ll look  forward to a wild night  out  with the pair  of ye so. Take  care, Claire,  and  remember I’m always at the other  end of the phone.’

‘Would you mind  telling me what  the hell is going on?’ Simon’s face was thunderous.

‘I was out.’

‘Well, that  was
obvious
. Out  where?’

‘With a friend.’

‘Who?’

‘A guy called Tom,’ Claire said wearily.

‘Tom?’ Simon’s eyes narrowed.

‘He’s a friend of Emma’s.’

‘And it was just the two of you, was it?’

‘That’s right,’ Claire snapped.

‘You’re unbelievable,  do you know  that,  Claire?’ Simon went to put on his coat.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Out.’

‘If you go out,  don’t bother  coming back,’ Claire threatened.

‘Why? What are you planning on doing? Changing  the locks?’

‘Well, I hadn’t thought about  it but maybe I will.’

‘Tell me now  if you are.  Because if you are,  I’ll need to stay with a friend.’

‘You could  stay with  Shelley.’ Claire’s voice was beginning  to shake.

‘Indeed I could.’

‘GET OUT,’ she screamed.

‘What is the matter  with you?’

‘I said get out!’

The door  slammed.  Quickly  she bolted  the locks. She didn’t care if he never came home.

She rang Anna.

‘Oh hi,’ Anna sounded  exhausted.

‘You don’t  sound  too  pleased  to hear  from  me,’ Claire said irritably.

‘Sorry . . . it’s just that  I was expecting somebody else.’

‘A man?’

‘Yes.’

‘Emmet? Jake? Steve? Rich?’

‘No’

‘Mark?’

‘No, a guy called Darren.’

‘Do you not think  you’re getting a bit old for this kind of carry on?’ Claire asked rather  uncharitably.

‘I’m sorry,  Claire,’  her  friend  retorted, ‘that  I’m not as happily  married  as you.’

‘Don’t mind me, Anna, I know I’m being irritable. I’ve a lot on my mind that’s all.’

‘Is it Andrew?  Is he sick?’

‘No, it’s Simon and he is sick. Sick in the head.’

‘No he’s not,’ Anna laughed.

‘He is. He’s having  an affair.  With  Shelley. And
I’m leaving him, Anna.  I’ve had enough.’

‘Leaving Simon? Are you mad?  Simon’s so good for  you.  And he’s your  husband, remember?  Most women  would  kill to  get their  hands  on  someone like him.’

‘Exactly,’ Claire said grimly. ‘Women like Shelley.’