Stand by Me (39 page)
‘It’s yesterday’s news, Mum,’ said Kelly one afternoon. ‘People have moved on.’
‘I really don’t think so,’ Dominique responded. ‘Didn’t you see the piece in the paper at the weekend? All about the people who’ve lost their money because of your dad?’
‘They haven’t lost anything yet,’ said Kelly stubbornly. ‘And the guards haven’t pressed charges either, so people are wrong to think Dad has done something wrong just because he isn’t here to defend himself.’
Dominique wondered when Kelly’s faith in Brendan would shatter. Her own faith in him was practically gone.
Kelly was tired of it all. Tired of the talk and tired too of sudden silences when she walked into a room. Tired of caring and tired of trying not to care.
She wasn’t as upset as her mother about the company or about their changed circumstances, precarious though she knew they were, but she wasn’t able to think about her father without being totally conflicted. It was all very well, she thought, for him to leave a card and money for her but that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him back, to face their problems together. He used to bang on and on about them all being a family and being strong together. But he clearly didn’t believe it himself.
She didn’t feel the same sense of responsibility that had affected both her grandmother and her mother. She knew that lots of people had depended on her father for their jobs and she was very sorry for them, but her view was that businesses failed all the time and you couldn’t blame any one person. Sure, her father should have managed things better, but all his life he’d employed people and helped them and she didn’t think it was right that everyone was coming down on him so hard now. The situation with the missing money was more problematic, but she didn’t for one second believe he’d stolen it.
Her friends hadn’t cut her off in the same way as her mother’s seemed to have. They’d been a bit embarrassed at first, but then they’d begun to rally round and had posted messages of support on her Bebo page. She and Alicia had agreed that not everyone was truly supportive and that some of the comments were actually quite bitchy, but the majority of her friends were still friends. They accepted that you made mistakes. Dominique’s friends didn’t. Which meant that Kelly was in a much better situation than her mum.
Greg and Emma were in the conservatory. Jia, who had taken to dropping by, even on her day off, had taken Lugh for a walk, leaving them unexpectedly on their own.
‘Have you been talking to Domino?’ Greg looked up from the crossword he’d been doing for the past thirty minutes.
Emma folded the paper she’d been reading and shook her head.
‘Not today,’ she said. ‘Why?’
‘I wondered whether she’d made any decision about where she was going to live.’
‘She’s OK with Lily for the time being.’
‘She’s going out of her mind at Lily’s.’
‘How d’you know that?’
‘I can see it.’
‘You always could,’ said Emma drily.
‘Don’t start,’ said Greg. ‘I’m worried about her, that’s all.’
‘And you always were.’ Emma’s tone was still dry. ‘Just as she always worries about you.’
‘What’s this all about?’ he asked. ‘Why are you being so narky?’
‘Stress,’ said Emma succinctly.
‘There’s an offer on Domino’s house,’ said Greg. ‘I presume the bank will accept it. As far as they’re concerned, the sooner they get their money back the better. So that leaves her homeless. ’
‘Not homeless, just living with Lily. So no change there.’
‘It’s a strain for both of them.’
‘Maybe,’ conceded Emma, putting the paper to one side. ‘But there’s nothing we can do about it. Unless ...’ She looked at him enquiringly. ‘You weren’t thinking of inviting her and Kelly to stay here, were you?’
‘No,’ said Greg, although he sounded doubtful.
‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ Emma got up, her body crackling with sudden anger. ‘I know this is a disaster for everyone, but we’re not that involved, Greg. We had nothing to do with Brendan’s businesses, thank God. We don’t need to be the ones to take them in. For any reason.’
‘It’s hard for them,’ said Greg. ‘Domino’s doing her best but she’s struggling at Lily’s.’
‘I don’t want her struggling here.’
‘I thought you were her friend.’
‘Yes. But I’m also realistic. She has to stand on her own two feet, Greg. She never did before. And you can’t always be the one trying to catch her before she falls.’
‘I’m not—’
‘Oh, don’t start.’ Emma snorted. ‘This whole situation has given you the chance to be Domino’s saviour again.’
‘No it hasn’t.’
‘If only Brendan hadn’t got her pregnant and rushed to marry her, you might have met her and enticed her away from him and everyone would’ve been happy.’
‘Emma!’
‘Even at her wedding,’ continued Emma, ‘when she introduced me to you, you were lusting after her.’
‘No I wasn’t,’ said Greg sharply. ‘I spent most of my time with you, didn’t I?’
‘Yeah, right. After she shoved me at you. You probably didn’t want to refuse her.’
‘And back then, of course, you were lusting after the brother.’ Now his tone was dangerous. ‘Perhaps you still do.’
‘Don’t go there,’ said Emma. ‘Just don’t.’
‘I should’ve realised.’ Greg shook his head. ‘Domino said it herself. Hey, Greg, was what she said. Why don’t you take my friend’s mind off the fact that my gorgeous brother is a priest?’
Emma said nothing. She was remembering that too. And remembering the fact that she hadn’t wanted anyone to take her mind off Gabriel at all. But then Greg had smiled at her and asked her to dance, and she’d known what Dominique had meant when she called him Gabriel-lite, because he was almost as handsome as her brother and had the same watchful calmness about him too. She’d thought she’d found someone special that day. She’d been pleased when he’d asked her out. And she hadn’t hesitated for a second when he’d asked her to marry him.
‘But of course he isn’t a priest now, is he?’ Greg looked challengingly at his wife.
‘You’re being very stupid about this,’ said Emma. ‘You’re talking about the past, and he’s thousands of miles away.’
‘Not far enough.’
‘Are you deliberately trying to provoke me?’ demanded Emma. ‘Have you finally decided to wreck our marriage?’
The two of them stared at each other, aware that she had suddenly crossed a line.
‘I don’t know,’ said Greg slowly. ‘I don’t know what I’m trying to do, Emma.’
‘Then forget about it. Forget about him.’
‘I’ve never lived up to him, have I? In any respect.’
‘It’s not a question of that.’
‘Isn’t it?’ He glared at her.
And then the phone rang. They ignored it for a moment, but its insistent shrill didn’t stop.
Greg picked it up.
‘Hi, Domino,’ he said after a moment. ‘Yes, sure, I can pick some stuff up from the house for you.’
Emma laughed shortly at his words, then walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Atlantic View was sold. There was a big banner across Jerry Kavanagh’s sign in the garden with the word emblazoned on it. Dominique had driven up the road to see it when Colin Pearson phoned her with the news. Excellent news, he said, because the purchaser had bought the contents too. They had been valued separately and Colin had been arranging for them to be auctioned when he’d been told that the prospective buyer was also interested in them. Although the amount raised for the contents was a lot less than the actual value, Dominique had cried tears of relief when Colin had called with the news. A year ago she wouldn’t have considered the cheque he handed her to be a lot of money. Now it was her lifeline.
The buyer was a retired golfer, Colin told her, who was separated from his wife and awaiting the finalisation of their divorce. He wanted space and privacy and Atlantic View fitted the bill perfectly. Buying the contents meant that he could move in straight away, which was what he wanted to do. Dominique pictured him standing on the rolling lawns, looking out towards the sea and practising his pitch shots, as Brendan had often done. Brendan wasn’t a keen golfer, but he gave it a go because it was a businessman’s game. Dominique knew he would have preferred Atlantic View to have been bought by a proper sportsman – a footballer or a hurler, not a boring old golfer in an argyle jumper, ridiculously bright trousers and a sun visor. But she was just glad that someone had stepped up to the plate and bought it at all.
She pressed her zapper and the gates opened. She’d forgotten to give the zapper to Colin, but she planned to drop it in to him the next time she went in to Cork. Now, though, she wanted to walk around the grounds one last time. It seemed unbelievable to her that a few months ago she had owned all this. She had been envied and admired. She had been someone other people wanted to be. Now it was owned by some ancient golf bore and she was skulking around like a trespasser.
‘Can I help you?’
She jumped in surprise, her heart thumping.
‘Can I help you?’ The man who had appeared from around the side of the house repeated the question. He was tall and rangy, with cropped fair hair and bright blue eyes in a tanned face. He was wearing faded Levis and a loose cotton shirt. Too young to be the retired golfer, Dominique thought. He could be anywhere between thirty-five and forty-five. It was hard to tell. Perhaps he was the golfer’s agent. Or maybe even his son.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t be here.’
‘No, you shouldn’t,’ he told her, brushing his hand through his short hair. ‘How did you get in? The gates were locked.’
She held up the zapper and he frowned.
‘I should’ve given it to the auctioneer sooner,’ she said.
‘You lived here?’ He looked astonished.
She nodded.
‘You’re Dominique Delahaye?’
She nodded again.
‘You’re a lot better-looking than your pictures,’ he told her.
She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that a complete stranger knew who she was. The pictures had been plastered all over the papers every time there was a story about Brendan.
‘Thanks. I think.’
‘You must be feeling bad about this.’ He waved towards the house and she shrugged.
‘What can I do?’ she asked. ‘The banks want their money and this is the only way they’ll get it.’
‘But I’m sorry you’ve lost your home.’
‘It doesn’t feel like home any more now anyway.’ There was a slight catch in her voice. ‘And I guess the new owner will change things once he moves in.’
‘Actually, I don’t have time to change much right now.’
‘You’re the
golfer
?’ She was unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.
golfer
?’ She was unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.
‘Yes.’
‘My solicitor said a
retired
golfer,’ Dominique told him. ‘You don’t look retired to me.’
retired
golfer,’ Dominique told him. ‘You don’t look retired to me.’
He grinned at her and his blue eyes twinkled. ‘D’you know, I’m going to take that as a compliment.’
Dominique blushed. ‘I didn’t mean ...’
‘We don’t all last till we totter along the fairway using our clubs as walking sticks,’ he told her in amusement. ‘I retired early because I tore ligaments in my shoulder. I don’t play much these days. Can’t, to be honest. So I design courses instead.’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know much about golf. My husband used to play from time to time and occasionally dragged me to golf dinners. But that’s as much as I know.’
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