Mr Right for the Night (30 page)

She pushed  Andrew’s  colourful  buggy down  the main  street,   lost  in  her  own  little  world.   A  tall handsome man  waylaid  her on the pavement.

‘Sorry,’ she muttered and went to manoeuvre the buggy around him.

‘Hey, good  looking.’

She stopped  and stared  up at him, the sun almost blinding  her.

‘Mark,’  she  laughed,   recognizing   him.  ‘Ever  the charmer.’

‘My charm  doesn’t  work  on everybody  sadly.’

‘I feel so sorry  for you,’ Claire  said sarcastically.

‘So how’s Simon? I see him now and then around the I.F.S.C. One of these days I hope to nab him for a drink.’

‘I’m sure  he’d  like  that.’ 
The  only  person  who can’t nab him  is me
.

‘How  is the fair lady getting  on in Galway?’

‘She’s very busy as far as I know.’

‘One of these days I might  drive up and  surprise her.’

‘I’m sure  she’d  be  delighted  to  see you,’  Claire enthused.

‘And how’s this little fellow?’ He made  a face at
Andrew  who  chuckled  his little baby  laughter.

‘Great. Hey, don’t tell me you’re getting broody.’

‘I wouldn’t  mind  a mini Mark.’

‘Ah go way  out  of that,  you  chauvinist,’  Claire belted him playfully  with  her handbag.

‘I suppose  a daughter would  be nice too,’  Mark grinned.  ‘I’d need to get a wife though.’

‘Well,  maybe  if  you  stayed  with  someone   for more than  two  weeks  you’d  have  a better  chance of getting  one.’

‘God, you know,’ Mark  pretended to contemplate the idea,  ‘maybe you’re right.’

Claire  pushed  Andrew’s  buggy  through the  door of  the  plush  boutique. The  well-groomed assistant rushed over to help. Claire asked for the silver dress in a small.  She was  dying  to  tell Anna  about  her chance  encounter with  Mark.   God,  if Claire  was single again  she’d jump  at someone  like Mark.

The assistant  returned with  the dress.  The fabric felt   extraordinarily  delicate.   God,   you  wouldn’t want  to  behave  like  a  heifer  in  a  little  slip  of  a thing like this. She sneaked a quick look at the price. Holy God! Still, Simon never begrudged her the price of a piece of clothing. Simon’s wife had to wear the right clothes, portray the right image. It wasn’t a bad thing. At least he wasn’t mean. There was nothing in this world  worse  than a mean  man.

God,  would   she  ever  forget  Neal  Marron,  the stunning-looking medic
al student  she’d dated in col
lege?
Everybody
had thought
he
was a great catch.

Especially  her  mother   who’d  had  the  wedding invitations practically  written  the  first evening  she went  out  with  him.  They’d  gone  to  the  cinema, Claire remembered. How  could  she forget?

She’d arranged to meet him under  Clery’s clock. Nervous  as anything, 
she’d sat  in a fast-food  res
taurant across  the  way  and  stared  at  him through the  big  glass  window.  She was  dying  to  see how long he’d wait  for her before  moving  off.

After a full twenty  minutes  he checked his watch and started  to walk slowly down  the street. Legging it out of the fast-food  joint, she caught up with him, apologizing breathlessly  for being so late.

When they reached the cinema, Neal immediately excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Rather  than  hang around like a spare tool, Claire bought  the  tickets.  And  why  not?  Sure they  were both students,  weren’t  they?

But when Neal didn’t offer to pay for the popcorn and coke Claire  wa
s a tiny bit disappointed. How
ever she decided  to put  it to the back  of her mind. She’d so  looked  forward to  the  date  and  after  all you couldn’t expect  men to pay for
everything
.

More  to the point  he was a fab kisser.  Not  like some guys who  didn’t  really have a clue.

Afterwards they’d walked  home hand-in-hand to
Neal’s parents’  place and  raided  the fridge.  They’d
‘got to know’  each other  on the family sofa while listening  to  some  funky  songs  Neal  had  recorded  off the radio.

Eventually  she’d lost her virginity  to him.

That was after his many protests  when he insisted that  he’d  seen  it  all  before  and  it  wasn’t  such  a big deal.

But to Claire  it was a big deal.

Neal  had  booked 
a  B&B  to  make  the  whole occasion more  romantic.

But to Claire’s bitter  disappointment, when  they arrived  he produced a half-price  voucher.

The  landlady   had  scrutinized   it  as  if  trying  to remember  when  the hell it had  been issued.

She pointed   out  that   breakfast wasn’t  actually included  in the special offer.

Claire  out  of sheer  mortification had  offered  to pay  for  breakfast but  Neal  had  already  spotted  a little newsagent  around the corner where he insisted they could grab  something  in the morning.

That  night  he was  in and  out  before  you  could ask ‘Are you in yet?’

Claire  had  lain  awake  in  the  dark  listening  to
Neal’s infuriating snores.

Everything   seemed  to  go  downhill   after   that. Every little thing he did annoyed her, from bumming cigarettes off people in the UCD bar, to turning up at every medical function  for the free glass of wine. But only when she got a hand-picked bunch  of flowers for Valentine’s did she finally decide to call it a day. Claire  gave a little shudder  at the memory.

There  was nothing  worse  than  a penny-pincher. The dress fitted perfectly. Claire gave a little twirl
in front  of the  full-length  mirror.  Andrew  clapped his baby  hands  showing  his approval.

‘You look  stunning,’  the assistant  crowed.

Claire believed her. Simon would  want  to eat her in this.

‘I’ll take  it,’ she grinned.  ‘I’ll just have to get my husband to  come  in and  pay  for  it. Can  I leave a deposit?’

‘Of course,’ the assistant  beamed.  It wasn’t every day she made a five-hundred-pound sale. This week had  been  a  particularly  good   one  though.  Sure wasn’t  it  only yesterday  she’d sold the exact  same dress to  that  awfully  pushy  Reddin  woman.  That silver dress was  really turning  out  to be a winner. Perhaps  she should order  in a few more.

Claire  handed  over  a crisp  fifty-pound  note.  As she  did so, she felt a wave of sudden  nausea  wash over her. The assistant  watched  in alarm as Claire’s face turned  a curious  shade  of green.

‘Are you all right?’

Claire clasped a hand  over her mouth  and shook her head  violently.

‘Quick,  the bathroom’s over there.’

Claire  ran  to  the  back  of  the  shop,  flung  open the   tiny  bathroom  door   and   reached   the  toilet bowl just  in time.  She collapsed  to  her  knees,  the tears streaming down  her cheeks. She suddenly  felt terribly  weak.

The  assistant   was  handing  her  man-size  tissues through the  door.  Eventually  Claire  emerged  and was handed  a glass of water.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she apologized.  ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

‘Don’t worry  about  it,’ the assistant  said kindly.

‘Are you pregnant?’

Claire faced the shop assistant  in alarm.  ‘No,’ she practically  shrieked.

‘Oh.’

‘I’m sorry,  I didn’t  mean  to  react  like  that  . . . it’s just,  oh God,  it doesn’t  seem possible,  I . . .’

‘Listen, you don’t  have to explain  yourself.’  The assistant  was  beginni
ng  to  look  extremely  uncom
fortable. ‘Go home now and have a nice cup of tea. I’ll hold  the dress for you.’

Typical Irish woman, Claire thought as she left the shop. A cup of tea was the answer to everything. She wondered what  had made her so sick. The omelette she’d had  for breakfast had  tasted  a bit funny.

Passing  a  chemist  Claire  hesitated   for  a  second. Should she or shouldn’t she? It was ridiculous  really. Herself and  Simon hadn’t  made  love in nearly  two months. Suddenly a thought struck her. Two months? Claire had missed her last period. She hadn’t given it much thought  as she was pretty  irregular  anyway.

Slowly she reversed  the buggy into  the chemist.

The test was blue,  for positive.

Claire was in shock. This was so unplanned.  So unplanned. Vaguely she was able to remember  the night of conception. She’d been exhausted as far as she  could  remember  and  Simon  had  been  slightly drunk and unusually  horny. She’d basically told him to get on  with  it.

What  a dreadful  way to conceive a life!

She wondered how  long  she  was  gone.  Thank
God she was still slim enough  to wear  the dress.

She reached  for the phone.  She’d have to ring her mum straightaway. Halfway  through the digits she stopped. Surely Simon should  be the first to know. He’d helped  make  the baby  after  all.

I’ve a feeling this one’s a girl; s
he patted  her stom
ach and  waited  for Simon to answer  his mobile.

‘Hello?’  It  was  a  female  voice.  Uh  oh,  Claire thought, she must  have dialled  the wrong  number.

‘Er . . . is Simon there?’

‘He just popped  out  for a minute.  I’ll get him to ring you back or shall I take a message? It’s Shelley by the way.’

Shelley? It didn’t sound like her. Her voice wasn’t quite as cocky as usual.  And no, she didn’t want  to leave a message.
Unless of course Shelley would  like to pass on the message to Simon  that  his wife  was expecting a baby
.

‘Thank  you no,  Shelley, I’ll ring back.’

She pressed
end
with  a sigh. It was ironic  really, wasn’t  it?  She  was  pregnant  with  Simon’s  child and  he  was  out  cavorting   with  another woman.  Great.  The doorbell  rang  loudly.  Sugar,  that  must be Alice already.  She’d completely  forgotten about her  calling  around. Well,  it  was  too  late  to  send her away.

‘Alice,  you  look   fantastic,’   Claire   said  as  she opened  the door.  ‘Come on in.’

Alice, a small  mousy  woman  with  a  lar
ge  nose and a generous  smile,
stepped  into the hallway  and gave Claire a hug. ‘It’s good to see you,’ she beamed.

‘You haven’t  changed  a bit.’

Alice followed  Claire  into the kitchen  and sat on one  of the  stools.  ‘This is a  great  place  you  have here. You’re lucky.’

It was funny,  Claire  thought, everybody  went on about how  lucky she was.  But if she was so lucky why  was  her  husband not  at  home  this  evening? Why hadn’t  he phoned  her back  at all?

‘Where’s Andrew?’  Alice wanted  to know.

‘He’s in bed,’ Claire  replied.  ‘Would  you like to see him?’

‘You bet.’

Alice had  obviously  picked  up some key sayings in New  York.

The  two  women   tiptoed   into  Andrew’s  room. He  was  sleeping  soundly  and  looked  unbelievably  cute.

‘I’d love a child,’ Al
ice said  with  a hint  of sad
ness.

Claire  felt  a  wave  of  guilt  pass  over  her.  No wonder  Alice thought she was  lucky.  She lived in a  beautiful  comfortable home  and  had  a gorgeous healthy  child.  What  did  Alice have?  Nothing but a  failed marriage  and  an obviously  painful  history back in America. It would be hard for her to start all over again in an Ireland that had changed drastically over the last few years. God, she was making Claire feel very ungrateful indeed.

‘So, what would you like to drink?’ Claire opened the   fridge.   ‘How   about   a   nice   glass   of   white wine?’

‘That would  be lovely,’ Alice smiled.

Claire poured  one for herself. She’d have just the one.  God  it  was  going  to  be  hard  to  give up  the drink. It had  become  her friend.

‘So,’ She settled herself on the stool opposite Alice,
‘what  happened?’

‘My husband  ran
off with our next-door  neigh
bour  . . . John.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘John.’

‘You mean  . . .’

‘Yes, you see he wasn’t always absolutely  sure he was  gay,  apparently. I guess being  married  to  me made  his mind  up.’

‘You’re having  me on.’

‘I wish  I  was.  Well,  at  least  there  weren’t  any children  involved.  I think  that’s  a blessing.’

‘So John  and  your  . . .’

‘And my husband are now  living together.  They moved  to San Fran  to start  a new life together.’

‘You poor  thing.’

‘Yes well, these things happen,  don’t they? Thing is  you  never  really  think  they’re  going  to  happen  to you.’

‘No, I suppose  not,’  Claire  replied  quietly.  God, she couldn’t even contemplate Simon leaving her for someone like, say . . . Jake.  The idea was absurd.