Two For Joy (31 page)

Lorna lowered her sunglasses. ‘What, for a glass of warm plonk, a wilted sandwich and boring speeches? I think not,' she drawled.

‘Excuse me, we have caterers in to do the food and the wine is
not
plonk,' Heather said tartly.

‘Wow, I'm impressed!' Lorna ran her fingers through her hair provocatively.

‘Give me the keys and I'll drive the car around the side. It's filthy, I'm not having it on my forecourt.' Neil held out his hand. Heather could see he was annoyed.

‘I'm not leaving it in
yet,
I was just telling Heather I wanted to say goodbye to my gran,' Lorna perched on the side of her cousin's desk.

‘Is that right?' Neil retorted. ‘Well, maybe it so happens that I'd like you to leave it in now so I could get my mechanics working on it.'

‘Ooohhh, isn't he masterful.' She pouted. ‘Come on, Neil, an hour or two isn't going to make any difference. Stop getting on your high horse just because I teased you about your wine.'

‘You've a hard neck you know.'

‘
Moi?
Surely not.' Lorna pretended innocence, eyes wide.

Neil laughed and turned to Heather. ‘I'm just going to collect the beer from the offie. Any important calls give them my mobile number. Ring the caterer and tell them to get a move on, they need to be here soon, and will you collect my suit from the cleaner's? Here's the docket. Good luck in New York, Lorna, in case I don't see you later.' He raised his hand in salute and hurried out of the office.

Heather was furious. How
dare
he talk to her and order her around like she was some little dogsbody. How
dare
he tell her to collect his suit from the cleaner's. And in front of Lorna too! He was in for it when she got him on her own.

‘Big day for Neil,' Lorna said, unaware of her cousin's fury. ‘I have to give it to him, I never thought he'd amount to much but he's done well for himself.'

‘Lorna, if you don't mind, I'm kinda busy. Have to get a move on.' Heather was in no mood for Lorna's patronizing guff.

‘Oh, I suppose you are. I better get a move on myself. I thought you might be having coffee,' she said hopefully.

‘Not a chance,' Heather said briskly. ‘If you want coffee go over and get a cup in the deli, you could collect that suit for me if you've nothing better to do.'

‘I'm not Neil Brennan's maid,' Lorna said indignantly. ‘Collect his suit indeed. And if I were you I wouldn't either.'

‘Oh, I don't look at it like that,' Heather fibbed. ‘When you're in a relationship you don't mind doing little things like that.'

‘Well, I never intend to be a drudge in a relationship,' Lorna said insultingly but Heather didn't care, she knew by the flash of annoyance on her cousin's face that she'd got one over on her.

‘I certainly don't consider myself to be a drudge, Lorna,' Heather said smoothly. ‘Neil and I' (she really liked the sound of ‘Neil and I') ‘are a partnership. I do things for him, he does things for me.'

Lorna was fit to be tied. ‘It sounds
so
boring, Heather.' She yawned. ‘If you don't mind my saying so. I'm glad I ended it with Bryan before going to New York. I'm footloose and fancy free and I can do what I like.'

She's jealous,
Heather thought with a little jolt. For the first time in her life, Heather felt superior to her cousin.

‘Have a ball,' she encouraged. ‘Now, Lorna, scram. I've got to get on with things here.'

‘Poor you, having to work your butt off. I think I might go up to the hotel and have a swim,' Lorna said airily.

‘Don't drown. See you.' Heather bent her head to her keyboard and pretended to type a document.

Lorna picked up her bag and sauntered out of the office. Heather kept her head down. She knew her cousin had been trying to impress her. She knew when Lorna was laying it on with a trowel. It was really getting to her that Heather had settled down so well back in Kilronan and that she was practically living with Neil. Her eyes had widened when she'd seen a shirt and tie of Neil's lying on top of the linen basket in Heather's bedroom, and his dressing-gown on the back of the door. For all her sophistication, she'd never lived with a man, Heather thought smugly, enjoying the unusual feeling of superiority. Smiling, she lifted the phone and dialled the caterer's number.

By one thirty everything was going as planned. The caterers had arrived and set up the drinks and finger food. The guests were assembled. Neil was wearing his dry-cleaned suit that Heather had collected for him, and Lorcan Kelly was making a boring speech that lasted ten minutes. After his wife had cut the ribbon on the door into the showrooms, Neil invited everyone to help themselves to food and drink. He was as proud as punch and Heather forgot her previous anger and indignation and gave him a quick hug.

‘It's going great,' she whispered.

‘I've orders for two new cars and about four interested in the second-hand ones. This is brilliant for business,' he whispered back, on a high. ‘Have to go and chat with Douglas Kennedy, he's interested in a top-of-the-range four-wheel-drive. Make sure they all have enough to drink.'

‘One each will do them fine,' Heather retorted. Sometimes Neil thought he was Donald Trump, or the likes. She had taken him to task a couple of times about his expense account, telling him to cut back on his swanky restaurant bills.

‘I have to entertain clients,' he protested.

‘Get real, Neil, you don't have to go overboard,' she said dryly. ‘Your profits aren't exactly in the stratosphere.'

‘Look, Heather, you have to realize, image is everything in this game. The more successful you behave, the more business you attract,' he explained patiently.

‘Look at Oliver Flynn, you wouldn't think he had two pennies to rub together and he's very successful—'

‘That's a different game, Heather. Let me worry about attracting the business and you worry about what happens when we get it.' Neil grinned.

Maybe he was right, Heather reflected. He certainly had enough drive and ambition to get the chain of garages he wanted. The buzz in the showroom was lively and good-humoured. Even if ten of the hundred and fifty guests bought a car they'd be doing well.

She was chatting to Martin Doyle, the manager of the Lake View, when she felt the elastic on the top of one of her pop socks give way, and felt it slowly begin to slide down her leg.
Oh no!
She gave a silent groan. How totally unsophisticated. She looked down when Martin paused to wave to someone and saw it wrinkly and loose around her shoe. She looked just like Nora Batty and she felt mortified. If she could ease her way into her own office, she could run upstairs and get a new pair. That's what she got for wearing pop socks, she thought dolefully. Lorna wouldn't be seen dead in them. No woman of sophistication would. She could feel herself breaking out in a cold sweat as the sock slid right down under her trousers.

‘Excuse me, Martin,' she murmured. ‘I just want to make sure there's enough wine.'

‘Fire ahead, Heather,' Martin beamed. He'd had more than a couple of glasses and was in great form. Red-cheeked, Heather moved as casually as she could through the knots of people, aware that her sock was now hanging over the back of her shoe. She was sure all eyes were upon her and by the time she got into her office she was cringing with embarrassment.

She closed the door behind her and unlocked the interconnecting door to her flat. She hurried upstairs, cursing vehemently. She rampaged through her sock drawer, finding pairs that didn't match or were laddered. ‘For crying out loud,' she muttered, mad with herself. She'd been meaning to sort out her socks and tights since she'd moved in and had never got around to it.

‘Heather, what are you doing? The phone's going mad ringing, the least you could do is answer it. I've taken it off the hook,' Neil demanded irritably, as he erupted into the room.

‘The blasted elastic in my sock broke and I need to get a new pair. Look at me. I'm like Nora Batty.' She lifted her leg to show him.

‘For God's sake, Heather, would you try to dress a bit more appropriately for this kind of thing. Look at the way Lorna dresses. Get a few tips from her. It's important to have a good image,' Neil lectured, finding nothing amusing in her predicament.

She couldn't believe her ears. He was telling her to be more like
Lorna!
What an insensitive bastard.

‘How
dare
you, Neil Brennan. It could happen to anyone. And if you prefer the way Lorna dresses get her to be your dogsbody and answer your fucking phone,' she yelled. ‘I've worked my ass off for you since I came here, I've worked twelve-hour days to get your bloody launch organized. How dare you,' she shrieked, incensed.

‘Will you shut up!! They'll hear.' Neil nearly had a fit.

‘I don't give a fiddler's who hears. Get out of my bedroom. I pay rent for it, I'm entitled to have whoever I want in it and I don't want you. And I'm taking the rest of the day off so go and answer your own bloody phone and brown nose that shower downstairs because I've had enough of it.'

‘You'd better get back down there and don't leave me to do this on my own,' Neil warned, purple with indignation.

‘Go sit on a pitchfork,' Heather snarled as she marched into the bathroom and slammed the door. She heard him curse viciously and then there was silence. She flipped the top of the loo down and sat on it. She was
raging.
How dare Neil speak to her like that. She always dressed smartly for work. OK, she wasn't in Lorna's league in terms of style, she was well aware of that, but few women were. Tears of humiliation smarted her eyes. This should have been one of the most exciting, satisfying days of her and Neil's life after all the work of the past couple of months and instead they were having a vicious row. He wasn't one bit grateful for anything she'd done. Well, she was damned if she was going downstairs any more. She could see through the small window that the guests were beginning to drift off anyway. People were anxious to leave once the drink and food were gone, there were other things to be done on a Saturday afternoon. He could bloody well clean up after it by himself. She'd had enough of being dogsbody for one day.

She went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. There was a packet of unopened chocolate Kimberleys on the counter top, and she opened them and unwrapped one, staring out on to the far distant lake. By the time the kettle had boiled she'd eaten three. Disgusted with herself, she made a cup of coffee, locked her front door with the latch so that he wouldn't get in with his key, undressed and got into bed. It had started to rain outside, and she snuggled down under the duvet, tired after the stress of the past week. Neil Brennan would want to start treating her with a lot more respect, she thought angrily. She'd behaved like a doormat with him before. But those days were gone. He wasn't getting back into her bed until he'd eaten a large slice of humble pie.

She waited for him to knock on her door and apologize, but the hours passed and dusk deepened into night and she lay unhappily wondering if this was the end of them. After all her boasting to Lorna about being in a relationship, wouldn't it be ironic if she and Neil were finished? How Lorna would crow. That would be the worst thing of all, Heather fretted as hot tears slid down her cheeks.

*   *   *

Neil gazed around at what had five hours previously been an immaculate showroom. Paper plates, crumpled serviettes, lipstick-stained wineglasses, food trodden underfoot, and the stink of cigarette smoke. It had been a great success, he congratulated himself. He was someone in Kilronan now and it felt good. He'd bring his father out for a pint and regale him with all the details. His father, crippled with arthritis, had opted not to come. It wasn't really his scene. Neil would have liked him to have been part of the celebrations, but perhaps it was just as well he hadn't come. He wouldn't have been able to look after him, he would have had to leave that to Heather, and after the row they'd had, his dad would have had to fend for himself, seeing as Heather had left him to host the remainder of the launch alone. She'd really let him down. He couldn't believe it of her, just because he'd taken her to task for sloppy dressing.

Surely she realized how important it was to look her best at all times. She was often the first point of contact with the company, he thought self-righteously. Today was a special occasion. Wearing stockings that were falling around her ankles was just too much. And the way she'd cursed at him with such viciousness, he hadn't realized she had such a temper. He was damned if he was going near her for the rest of the night. He wasn't going to let her spoil the best day of his life. Pity she wasn't here to help him clean up though, he thought ruefully as he made a half-hearted attempt to clear away a few plates.

He saw Lorna Morgan drive on to the forecourt in the red Honda Civic. She'd left it late enough to come back. There was probably another thousand miles up on the clock since he'd bought it off her. He wasn't in the humour for her either. He scowled as she walked into the showrooms, keys jingling in her hand.

‘You can let your precious mechanic go to work on it now.' She held out the keys.

‘Fine.' He pocketed them. ‘Have a good time in New York.'

‘I intend to,' she purred, slanting her blue eyes up at him. ‘It looks like everyone enjoyed the warm plonk.' She gazed around at the clutter. ‘Where's Heather?'

‘She's got a headache,' Neil lied. He wasn't going to let on to Lorna Morgan that he and Heather had had a row.

‘Well, don't expect
me
to give you a hand clearing up.' Lorna wrinkled her pert little nose at him.