Two For Joy (20 page)

At four thirty she'd had enough of work. She was going to go home, have a shower and get changed. She could go directly to Temple Bar after she'd finished showing the apartment. She tidied her desk, shut down her computer and stood up. ‘I'm off,' she announced. Edith looked at her in surprise and threw a look at the board.

‘You're not showing until six thirty,' she remarked coldly.

Heather was raging. What a cow! This was the first time that she'd left the office early in all the time she'd worked there. And why had she picked on Heather? Edith never said anything to the others when they left early if they had an evening viewing. She eyeballed her boss frostily. ‘Correct, Edith, but if I took all the time I was owed, I wouldn't be here for a week. And if I skived off a bit more like you and some of the others, I still wouldn't make it up.'

Edith's jaw dropped. Heather had never spoken to her like that before. In fact Heather was one of the best she'd ever worked with. ‘Well, if you're due time, that's fine, I'm sure. There's no need to be so rude!' She wore a deeply wounded expression.

Heather, uncharacteristically, didn't apologize. She was fed up with being treated like a doormat and had come to the conclusion that people took advantage of her because she was too nice and too soft. So no more Miss Nice Girl. She marched out of the office with her head in the air, leaving Edith open-mouthed.

‘That told her,' Heather muttered as she took the lift to the ground floor. She was rather shocked at her outburst, but it had shut Edith up and she might think twice about picking on her again.

That was twice in the last couple of weeks that she'd stood up for herself, she thought as she walked briskly along the rain-swept street. She was definitely getting more assertive and it felt good. She remembered Lorna's phone call and scowled. It had infuriated her that Lorna would think that all she had to do was ask her out for a drink and everything would be fine between them.

Her cousin was incredibly self-centred, but maybe her doing the hot potato act on Heather might have been the best thing that had ever happened to her – the ‘growth opportunity' her friend Margaret had talked about. Now that she'd asserted herself a couple of times she was damned if she was going to take bad treatment from anyone any more.

At seven forty-five she got a phone call from Ruth inquiring about her whereabouts. ‘I'm on the quays, won't be long,' she puffed. She really wasn't fit. She'd have to get in trim.

‘Oh, I'm just at the Halfpenny Bridge, I'll wait for you at the Clarence,' Ruth said cheerfully.

‘OK, won't be a minute.' Heather put on a spurt, weaving in and out of late-night shoppers, and before long could see her sister looking casually chic in jeans, suede boots and figure-hugging black polo under her black fur-trimmed coat.

Heather, wearing a pair of black trousers and a jade chenille jumper that covered her ass, wished heartily that she had her sister's slender figure. She'd been comfort eating for the past month over the stress of moving flats and the waistband of the trousers was uncomfortably tight. She longed to wear a jumper tucked into jeans but her rear at the moment was not for viewing. Her short jumpers were packed in a black plastic sack and long and relatively loose was currently the wardrobe of the day.

‘Hi.' Ruth gave her an affectionate hug and they strolled along chatting about the events of their day. They were walking past Eden when the doors opened and a gaggle of laughing girls spilled out on to the footpath. Heather and Ruth were about to circle around them when they bumped right into Lorna.

‘Oh! Oh, hi,' their cousin said brightly as the other girls moved off.

Ruth glared at her, ‘Well, hey! If it isn't Cowardy-Custard-Morgan. You know … the one who does a runner at the weekend and doesn't even have the guts to say she's moving out. Don't you
dare
say hi to us.'

‘Oh, shut up, you,' Lorna flared, clearly taken aback. ‘I'm sorry, Heather, if you're still upset, but I did explain in my letter that I had to make a decision on the spo—'

‘Why don't you just run along to your new friends, just think, you can puke in
their
handbags now. I'm sure they're much more up-market than mine was,' Ruth said cuttingly. ‘Come on, Heather.'

‘Yeah, go on, Heather, let little twinnie tell you what to do like she always does,' Lorna jeered. ‘Well, I'm glad I moved to Malahide. I've made great new friends that aren't mouldy old stick-in-the-muds. I live in a fabulous apartment and I've got a dishy, rich boyfriend who thinks I'm the bee's knees,' she boasted.

‘The poor deluded git,' Heather retorted coldly. ‘He'll find out what a user you are too, just like poor old Derek Kennedy.'

‘Bitches!' Lorna swore as she stalked off. Heather and Ruth looked at each other and started to laugh.

‘She's so childish,' Ruth shook her head in disbelief.
‘I've got a dishy, rich boyfriend and he thinks I'm the bee's knees,'
she mimicked her cousin. ‘She's a sad wagon.'

‘She looked fantastic,' Heather noted enviously. Lorna had been dressed to the nines in tan leather trousers and matching jacket. That was definitely it, she decided. She was starting another diet on Monday. There was a great three-day one that was guaranteed to lose ten pounds and you could even have ice-cream on it. Come Monday morning she'd be having two teaspoons of peanut butter on dry toast for breakfast. It was that kind of diet. And she wouldn't go overboard on the sauce tonight either. She could do without the calories and the hangover. Meeting Lorna had given her a jolt and she'd seen the way her cousin's eyes had flicked up and down over her, checking out what she was wearing. Well, one day Lorna was going to see her and her eyes were going to pop out of her head, she'd look so stunning, Heather vowed.

The booze-up was great fun. Heather thoroughly enjoyed herself and was first to agree to heading downstairs to the nightclub at closing time. The encounter with Lorna had been unexpected but in some strange way it was like the tie had finally been cut and Lorna was out of her life. And the great thing was, it didn't matter any more. That was the liberating thing. She'd seen her cousin with her new swanky friends and it didn't bother her. Since their childhood, she'd been Lorna's little handmaiden, and now it was over and she didn't care.

She was in flying form, thanks to one Bud too many. Heather grinned at Ruth as they bopped effervescently to Kylie. ‘I'm really glad I came out tonight.'

‘Say that to me in the morning,' laughed her twin knowingly.

The following morning, Heather packed her weekend bag, trying to ignore her throbbing head. ‘I'm never going out with you again,' she groaned as her sister breezed into the bedroom looking as fresh as a daisy.

‘Here's a cup of coffee and a bacon sandwich, that will fix you,' Ruth declared kindly.

‘Oh, thanks!' Heather brightened up. Hangover or not, she was hungry.

‘I'd better fly. Tell the parents I was asking for them and tell them I'll be down with Peter on Sunday.' She sprayed some Allure in the direction of her neck, grabbed her bag and ran. Heather sat on Ruth's bed, took a bite out of the hot bacon sandwich, relishing the oozing melting butter, then sipped her coffee. She was so looking forward to going home. Tonight she'd be sleeping in her own snug, comfortable bed and tomorrow she was going to walk the round of the lake and breathe in that rich, clear, fresh, frosty country air. Not even Edith Palmer could put a dent in her good humour today, she smiled, as she applied her make-up.

Edith couldn't have been nicer to her as it happened.
It pays to stand up for yourself,
Heather thought in amusement as her boss gave her a saccharine smile and thanked her profusely when she handed her some references to inspect.

At six p.m. she was standing on the quays in gale-force winds and pouring rain, waiting for the Kilronan bus. The weather was atrocious and she was longing to get her seat on the bus and immerse herself in
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,
the third part of the Harry Potter series. She'd been babysitting for a friend of hers in Kilronan one night and out of boredom, and interested in seeing what all the fuss was about, she'd picked up
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
and started to read it. After the first chapter she was hooked. As soon as that damn bus arrived she was going to stick her nose in her book and enjoy the journey home. A sharp beep of a car horn made her jump and she saw a dark blue BMW pull in to the bus stop. Somebody must be getting a lift, she thought, as she peered along the lines of traffic to see if there was any sign of the Kilronan bus. It was dark and rain blurred her eyes, and she couldn't really see.

‘Heather! Heather, do you want a lift?' Someone was calling her name, a vaguely familiar voice. Startled, she looked in at the driver and saw Neil Brennan smiling out at her. Her heart gave a little lurch. She hadn't seen much of her old boyfriend since she had given him his marching orders. He was the last person she'd expected to offer her a lift. ‘Come on, get in. It's a horrible night and the traffic's crap and I'd better get out of here.'

Oh God!
she dithered, but he had the door open and automatically she passed him her bag and he threw it on to the back seat. Before she knew it, she was sitting in the plush passenger seat and Neil was moving out into the traffic.

‘So! How are you, Heather?' Neil flashed her a sheepish grin. ‘Can we let bygones be bygones?'

She laughed. ‘Of course we can,' she said easily, not being one to hold a grudge. ‘You're doing well. I like the wheels.'

‘Not bad, sure they're not. Oh, Heather, it's been a hell of a year,' he said eagerly. ‘Wait until I tell you…' He launched off into a description of how he'd finally got a financial package together and how Oliver Flynn had agreed to build his showrooms for him. ‘I wouldn't go to anyone else locally, Oliver's a great builder. There's no messing at all. He does what he says he'll do,' he observed as the rain battered against the windows and the wipers swished rhythmically, creating a lullaby of their own.

‘I like Oliver, there's something nice about him,' Heather agreed as she settled back into her seat more comfortably. She was pleasantly relaxed, her initial moment of awkwardness long vanished. It was just like old times in a way, she reflected. Neil and herself had always been able to talk and she enjoyed listening to him talking about his plans for the business.

‘So now I'm mostly involved in the selling end and I have two mechanics working for me in the garage, but I need a receptionist, someone who can do the paperwork and send in those damn VAT returns. They're the bane of my life,' he confided as they inched along in bumper-to-bumper rush-hour Friday-night traffic.

Heather laughed. ‘Are you getting nasty letters telling you that court proceedings will be initiated and the sheriff will be at your door in ten days? The clients in Mangan's used to go spare when they got those.'

‘Yeah, but the infuriating thing is that I'd sent in the return and the cheque and because of some delay in
their
office, it wasn't processed in time. They send out those stinkers of letters and never have the manners to apologize,' Neil exclaimed indignantly. He turned to look at her. ‘Of course you worked in Mangan's, didn't you? So you'd know all about VAT and stuff. You're not looking for a job, are you?' he joked.

Heather felt the hair rise up on the back of her neck. Her friend Margaret, who believed in ‘growth opportunity', had told her that there was no such thing as ‘coincidence'. That when something that seemed coincidental occurred it was really the Universe, or God, whichever you preferred, presenting you with an opportunity to change or grow or take a new step in life. Was this apparent coincidence, this lift from Neil and his job offer, one of those gifts from the Universe that Margaret was always going on about?

Neil studied her hard. They were stopped at red lights and only the sound of the engine purring and the wipers swishing broke the silence. ‘You're not looking for a job, are you?' he asked uncertainly.

‘I don't know,' Heather hesitated. ‘I don't like the job I'm in, I was thinking of looking for another one. But I don't know if I was really planning on going back home.'

‘I suppose not.' Neil backtracked. ‘Why would you leave the bright city lights for boring old Kilronan?'

‘I don't think Kilronan is boring. I miss it,' Heather remarked.

‘Do you?' he looked at her in genuine surprise. ‘I thought you'd love city life.'

‘No, I don't really like Dublin to be honest. I think I'm a country girl at heart.'

‘Well, why don't you come back?' he challenged. ‘I meant it when I said I needed someone to look after the office and answer the phone. The business is getting too big for me to run on my own. I want to be professional. I'm not a small back-street garage merchant any more. I'm in with the big boys now and I need back-up. Come on, Heather,' he urged. ‘Think about it. I'd pay you good money, you'd be back in Kilronan. It could be great. We get on well, don't we? Well, apart from our little hiccup the night of Oliver's wedding,' he amended.

Heather gave a wry smile. ‘Hmm,' she said dryly.

‘Aw, Heather, I
am
sorry about that. Honest. It was bad manners. I miss you, you know. We got on very well.'

‘We got on very well because I let you walk all over me,' she retorted.

‘Ah, don't be like that. Look, will you think about the job? I think we could make a great team. I'll pay you a good wage. More than what you're on.'

‘Aren't you afraid I'd give you an inflated salary figure?' she teased.