Stand by Me (46 page)
‘I’m not due for another three weeks,’ said Agnes cheerfully. ‘But obviously I’m going to have a monster.’
Dominique remembered how she’d felt at that point in her pregnancy. Terrified and exhausted. She doubted she’d looked as chirpy as Agnes.
‘So,’ said Paul after he’d shown her around and they’d returned to the hotel. ‘The job is only for the duration of Agnes’s maternity leave. I don’t have any positions after that.’
‘That’s fine.’
‘My wife was at a charity auction you organised,’ said Paul.
‘Really?’
‘She said that it was one of the best-planned events she’d ever been at.’
Dominique couldn’t help feeling a glow of satisfaction. ‘I’m glad.’
‘We run a lot of events here at Glenmallon,’ he told her. ‘But they’re always within a strict budget.’
‘I’m very good with strict budgets,’ she assured him. ‘Especially these days.’
‘You can start tomorrow?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘OK then.’ Paul smiled. ‘Welcome on board.’
Dominique had never felt anything like the pride she felt now. She couldn’t believe how excited she was at landing a job. Even if it was just maternity cover. Even if it wasn’t the most exciting job in the world. It was hers, and she’d earned it.
She rang Kelly, who was equally excited and who said that it was a good thing that the Delahaye women were making their own way in the world. Dominique suggested that she come and visit her soon - she said that she was missing her madly already - and Kelly reassured her by saying that she was delighted to have a place to stay in the capital and she’d be up the following week. When Dominique ended the call, she felt uplifted. And happy. Happier than she’d felt in a really long time.
She was shaking with nerves as she pinned a name badge on to the front of her white blouse. The staff at the country club were expected to wear navy suits and white blouses, and since Dominique already had an appropriate suit and plenty of blouses, she didn’t need to borrow from the store. Her Louise Kennedy suit was well cut and very stylish, and she knew that she looked the part (Agnes told her so when she turned up), but she was utterly, utterly terrified that she’d make a bags of it and that they’d despise her for being completely hopeless.
By lunchtime, though, she realised that she knew what she was doing, and at the end of the day she sighed with relief.
‘You’ll be grand,’ said Agnes. ‘The guys like you.’
Which was true. Dominique had been happy and cheerful with everyone who’d turned up to play and had given them all a word of encouragement before they went out to tackle the picturesque course. She’d imagined that there would be a lot of members who were the terminally boring business types that Brendan knew and she was right. Golf seemed to attract them. But there were also younger men too, and a high proportion of women, including – Agnes said – a young girl with prospects of being a top professional. Glenmallon was a progressive club, Agnes added. No fuddy-duddiness. No rules about women only having associate membership. None of that rubbish.
Dominique admitted to herself that she would have taken the job even if Glenmallon’s policy had been to keep women totally out of sight and never let them near the course. But she was glad that it was a nice place to work. And glad, too, that nobody had recognised her or looked at her twice as though they should know who she was. With her hair tied back (company policy) and wearing the navy suit, she blended in anonymously and perfectly.
Agnes had twigged who she was, although not until mid-afternoon, because that was the first time she’d heard Dominique’s surname. Dominique had caught the glance of sympathy that Agnes had shot at her, but the other girl had then spoken cheerfully.
‘It didn’t click with me before,’ she said. ‘Why would it?’ And then she added that she was glad Dominique was getting on with her life and that men were all bastards, except of course Richard, her husband, who was actually quite perfect.
Agnes left for her maternity leave at the end of the week, by which time Dominique felt totally on top of what she had to do and had also met Meganne and Sorcha, who both worked on the clubhouse reception desk too. They’d told her that they sometimes switched shifts and hoped she was OK with that, and she said that she was; they also said that they were delighted to have her working with them. Neither of them reacted to her name, which relieved Dominique. Not everyone, she told herself, gorged on news about missing businessmen and deserted wives.
Which she wasn’t any more, she decided. She was a working woman. Her marital status was totally irrelevant.
Kelly came to Dublin the following weekend. It rained incessantly and they spent all day Saturday on the sofa in front of the TV, watching old movies. On Sunday they visited Evelyn and Seamus for dinner. Afterwards, as Dominique drove her back to the train station, Kelly said that it was very different to dinner at Lily and Maurice’s but that Evelyn wasn’t a bad cook.
‘She’s improved,’ said Dominique. ‘She was crap when I was younger.’
‘Genetic, so.’ Kelly grinned wickedly at her. ‘You’re not much better.’
‘Get away with you, you ungrateful wretch.’ Dominique laughed. ‘What about my famous steak and kidney pie?’
‘I’ll give you a shout during the week,’ Kelly promised as they pulled up outside the station. ‘Let you know when I’ll be back up again.’
‘I have to work next weekend,’ Dominique reminded her.
Kelly nodded and grabbed her bag. Then she kissed Dominique on the cheek.
‘See you soon.’
‘See you soon,’ repeated Dominique as her daughter strode confidently away from her.
The following Saturday morning, she saw Paddy O’Brien. At first she didn’t recognise him. He was dressed in a navy jumper and dark trousers, rather than the jeans and casual shirt he’d been wearing in the garden of Atlantic View. But he stood out among the group of men he was with, taller than them by far, and she suddenly realised who he was.
They were all going out to play a round, and it wasn’t Paddy who came up to the desk but Paul Rothery.
‘It’s a free round,’ he told Dominique. ‘That man there ...’ he pointed to Paddy, ‘is the course designer. So he’s seeing how it’s holding up.’
‘Fine,’ she said, her eyes following Paddy as he said something to one of the men in the group and they all laughed.
‘Everything going all right?’
‘Perfectly.’
It was as they were trooping through the atrium of the clubhouse that she saw Paddy looking at her, a faintly puzzled expression on his face. And then he smiled slightly and nodded in recognition and she nodded back at him. She was still surprised at seeing him here, still couldn’t quite take in that the man who had moved into her house was now someone she might see at work. Although she’d hardly see him that often, she reminded herself. Cork was two hundred and fifty kilometres away, after all!
Four hours later, when they returned, he came over to the desk.
‘I couldn’t believe it was you at first,’ he said.
‘Bit of a shock, I’m sure.’ She smiled her new efficient smile at him.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘Working.’
‘Here? Full time? You’re living in Dublin now?’
She nodded. ‘I needed to get away from Cork.’
‘I understand.’
‘How’s Atlantic View?’ she asked.
‘It’s a beautiful house. I haven’t spent much time there, unfortunately.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’ve been travelling. The course design takes me abroad a lot. I was just seeing how this place has matured.’
‘And how has it?’
He smiled. ‘You’d want to ask the players that.’
Suddenly she grinned at him. ‘I heard someone say yesterday that the fifteenth was nothing more than the jaws of hell biting you on the arse.’
This time he roared with laughter.
‘And the par four sixth?’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘So not a par four apparently. A truly difficult drive with the dog-leg, and the green slopes too much.’
‘My goodness, you’ve certainly learned a lot since I last met you.’
‘To be honest, I’m just parroting what I hear.’
‘So you haven’t been converted?’
‘I’ve played golf on the Wii in the games room,’ she told him in amusement. ‘I was terrible at it. But honest to God, Paddy, there are an awful lot of posers in this game.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Paddy. ‘You’ve had plenty of experience of them?’
‘Every time I went to a golf event before, it was always to hang around the sponsors’ tent with Brendan. And it was so phoney and patronising that I couldn’t really take to it. But I’m trying.’
‘I’d be scared of my life to patronise you,’ he assured her. ‘And I bet most of the other guys would be too.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ she said darkly.
‘Oh well, can’t win ’em all.’ Paddy’s voice was philosophical as he glanced at his watch. ‘Fancy a drink?’
Dominique looked at him in surprise.
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I’m working.’
‘Fancy a drink when you’ve finished?’
She grimaced. ‘I don’t think I can do that. I’m not sure that Paul would be too pleased to have me quaffing pints with the punters.’
‘I’m not a punter,’ said Paddy. ‘I’m the designer. And I’m ... Well, we know each other, after all.’
‘He’d probably like it even less if I was drinking on the premises with people I know. Not that we actually do know each other, Mr O’Brien.’ ‘I feel I know you,’ he said. ‘I’m living in your house, after all.’ ‘Your house now,’ she said.
Paddy shrugged. ‘Would you like to have a drink with me? If he doesn’t mind?’
Dominique looked at him uncertainly. Their banter had been spontaneous. She’d been trying to be friendly and not let the circumstances of their last meeting bother her. And they hadn’t really, because he’d been so friendly. But having a drink with him was different. Having a drink implied a friendship and who knew what else. The last time she’d worked somewhere and had a drink with a customer, she’d married him! She smiled to herself. She was being very presumptuous in thinking that Paddy O’Brien was being anything other than super-polite and kind to the woman whose house he’d picked up for a song.
‘I can’t have a drink,’ she told him. ‘I’ve got my car and it’s a good forty minutes’ drive back to the city. So thank you, but it’s not possible.’
‘And I’m supposed to be having dinner with the guys later anyway,’ he said, ‘so it’s probably not a great idea. How about tomorrow?’
‘I . . .’
‘In town. You can get a cab.’
‘Well ...’
‘Or somewhere close to you,’ he said. ‘So’s you can walk. I don’t mind.’
‘I’m working tomorrow as well,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’
‘I’m going back to Cork the day after,’ said Paddy.
‘Oh well,’ she said.
‘I would’ve liked that drink.’
‘Maybe another time.’
‘Indeed.’
She smiled her bright receptionist smile at him, and kept smiling as he walked away. Even if it had been possible, she wouldn’t have gone for a drink with him. He was a nice guy and she was perfectly entitled to go out with him, but she wouldn’t. Not because she was still married to Brendan or in love with him or anything. But because she didn’t want to get entangled with men, nice or not. She was doing fine on her own. And she didn’t want any man, no matter who he was, messing with her newly constructed life.
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