Two For Joy (54 page)

He'd even wanted to visit Ground Zero, how uncool was that? How ghoulish and voyeuristic. Lorna didn't even like to acknowledge that such a place existed. It made New York seem vulnerable, and she didn't like that feeling, she felt vulnerable enough herself as it was.

Lorna sighed. Her place was uptown, and if she wanted to be there she'd better find someone to keep her, and fast. As the flashing billboards of Times Square hove into view, Lorna felt sick with disappointment as reality hit home hard.

*   *   *

It had not been the best weekend ever, Heather thought glumly as she squeezed some lemon juice into a glass of warm water and sipped it slowly. All her hard-won equilibrium seemed to have disappeared in an instant when she'd heard about Neil going to New York. The hurt and grief had hit her again, twice as hard, and that shocked her. When did the pain stop? When did the heartache disappear? Was she going to feel like this for the rest of her life? she wondered in despair. She'd thought she was over him. She'd tormented herself for the entire weekend, thinking about what they were doing, and hated herself for being such a wimp.

It still hurt that Neil had dropped her like such a hot potato. Apart from that horrible episode in Fred's he hadn't spoken to her at all. He'd cut her out of his life as if she'd meant nothing at all to him. Didn't he miss her even a little bit? Didn't he miss their talks about the business? Looking back, he'd only ever talked about himself. It had been all about him and his plans. He could talk about himself for hours. Surely he didn't get away with that with Lorna. All she ever talked about was herself. That they'd ever got together at all was a miracle. They were two horrible people, Heather thought bitterly.

She chewed the side of her lip. Was it Lorna she was more mad at than Neil? It was the humiliation of it all that got to her. Her pride had been well and truly dented. Sometimes she wondered if it was her pride that hurt the most or her heart. Looking back, she felt she'd been more in love with the idea of living with Neil and being a couple, than actually in
love.
Was she just as shallow as Neil and Lorna at the end of the day? She wished these horrible questions would stop buzzing around her head.

She slipped a slice of bread into the toaster and sipped more of her warm lemon-flavoured water. Today was the start of her diet, she vowed. She'd disgraced herself over the weekend, stuffing herself with chocolate-covered Kimberleys, crisps, slices of fruity Maltana slathered in butter. She'd gone on such a binge she hated herself. It had to stop,
now!

She was driving towards Carleton's just a few hundred metres from the garage when she saw Neil's car parked on the forecourt under the flat, with the boot open. Slowing down, she saw him lifting suitcases out of the boot. He must have flown in this morning. She glowered, feeling a fierce stab of jealousy. He looked extremely well in a pair of black trousers, black shirt and black leather jacket. She could see Lorna's influence and it galled her. If he'd looked hunted and miserable it would have given her some consolation. She put her foot on the accelerator and decided to comfort herself with a chocolate éclair for her tea break.

*   *   *

‘Oh, I like this!' Noreen exclaimed as she walked into the light-filled, airy fitted kitchen and dining-room that led out to a sunny, shrub-filled garden. ‘I'll need a good garden, Rajiv, for two of them. It's the nicest one I've seen. And the flat's decorated in the colours I like. I had a beautiful house in Kilronan, you know.' Sadness flickered across her face. She'd been so proud of that house. So chuffed to show it off to Rita and Maura, but in the end it had become a place of great unhappiness for both her and Oliver.

She'd spent the weekend looking at houses, apartments and flats, none of them appealing to her until she'd seen this high-ceilinged, immaculate ground-floor flat with garden, in a large Victorian house on a quiet, leafy, tree-lined road not far from Kay, Rajiv and St Mary's, where she was back working part-time.

A garden had been high on her list of priorities and this one, walled, mature and private, was perfect. The flat itself had three bedrooms and a good-sized lounge, with a beautiful bay window, and it was in her price range.

‘If you like it, go for it, Noreen, house prices are starting to rise. Don't delay buying,' Rajiv warned. He was being extremely kind, supportive and helpful to her. It was the first time in her life that she'd ever had such a
relaxed
relationship with a man but she was finding it difficult to come out of her I'm-An-Independent-Can-Stand-On-My-Own-Two-Feet-Woman mode. She and Rajiv had an easy friendship but she had not had sex with him again. She wasn't sure if she would in the future, but for now she was holding back. It was as though being pregnant had satisfied every need and want for the moment and she was content to savour that particular joy for the time being.

‘You know, Rajiv, I feel that Oliver shouldn't be selling the house and giving half the proceeds to me. Why should he? He worked hard to build that house. I feel terribly guilty about it,' she added despondently as she walked out into the flower-filled garden. Great drifts of clematis tumbled down over trellises. Bluebells and irises waved softly in the breeze under two damson trees that formed a natural archway as their foliage intertwined. It was a peaceful place. Soothing and restful. A bird sang exuberantly. It was an oasis in the midst of the city. She could do far worse for herself and her children than buy here, she reflected as she waited for her friend's answer.

Rajiv took a deep breath and studied her with his kind, trusting eyes. ‘I understand how you feel, but from a man's point of view, if I may, I think if you don't let him sell up and give you half the cash, you'll make him feel worse than he feels already. It can't be easy for him to know that you are expecting twins. I'd say the poor man feels he's let you down and this is a way of trying to make up for it. Giving you the money will be an honourable ending of it for him. What do the Americans call it? Closure, isn't it? An interesting concept if you don't believe in karma,' Rajiv said honestly as he bent down to smell a tuft of lavender.

‘But I'm the one that feels I've let
him
down. Oh Rajiv, I kept at him and at him to have a baby. I can't take his money. It's not fair. I've walked out on him, he has no obligation towards me,' Noreen fretted.

‘You can't stay with Kay for ever. And if you don't take his money you won't be able to afford a place half as nice as this unless you let me—'

‘No, Rajiv,' she said sharply. ‘You can help with the babies but that's it. I'm not going to sponge off you too.'

Rajiv held up his palms. ‘Fine, Noreen. I respect your wishes,' he said calmly, ‘but I think you should let Oliver keep some sense of pride and dignity, if you want my honest opinion.'

Noreen bit her lip at the gentle, implied rebuke. ‘I don't mean to be ungracious, Rajiv. Until I got married I was used to fending for myself.'

‘Time to learn how to receive as well as to give,' Rajiv said mildly. ‘Much harder sometimes. You must honour people's divinity, my dear, and accept their kindness so that they can be infinitely rewarded for their generosity. Kindness from another can sometimes be reparation for a wrong done in a past life.'

‘Oh!' murmured Noreen. ‘I hadn't thought of it like that. I'm not sure about past lives and all of that. OK then, I'll use the money I have for a deposit. My salary will pay the mortgage and when I get the proceeds from the house I can pay it off. That should keep you
and
Oliver happy.' She smiled at him. ‘You see life so differently to the way I do. I value independence and you tell me to learn to receive … we're going to have some interesting discussions, I can see.'

‘Be open, Noreen. Our children will learn a lot of wisdom from both our cultures,' Rajiv said easily.

‘They'll be very lucky to have a lovely daddy, which was much more than I had.'

‘Let the past go, Noreen. Your father made karma for himself that no one would want; bless him and send forgiveness and it will come back to you a thousandfold.'

‘I'm not that much of a saint, Rajiv, but I'll try, some time,' she said dryly. ‘Come on, I'll go and make an offer to the estate agent. The sooner I have a place of my own, the sooner I can decorate a nursery.'

*   *   *

Oliver could hear the doorbell shrilling, making his head throb. ‘Piss off, whoever you are,' he muttered. ‘Leave me alone and get away from my door.' After a while the bell stopped ringing and he fell asleep again.

He woke again to feel someone shaking him vigorously. ‘What the fuck,' he muttered, opening red-rimmed eyes and closing them quickly as shards of bright sunlight caused immense pain.

‘Oliver, Oliver, wake up. I've two couples coming to see the house,' he heard a woman say agitatedly. ‘Oh, for God's sake, Oliver, you're as drunk as a skunk! And the room smells like a brewery. Will you get up and let me get the place sorted,' Heather Williams exclaimed in exasperation as he opened his eyes again and she swam into focus, staring down at him in dismay.

44

Heather stared down into Oliver Flynn's bleary eyes and her heart sank. He was mouldy drunk. There were beer cans strewn on the floor and an empty brandy bottle on its side and the room smelt stale and skanky. She went over to the windows and opened them wide.

‘Come on, Oliver, get up. The Reillys from Mount Kilronan are coming and I'm not going to have them see you like this,' she exclaimed, pulling him up out of the chair. He swayed, but steadied himself.

‘You can't stay here. Come out to my car and sit in it until the viewing is over. I'll drive it up the lane a bit, then afterwards you can go up to bed and sleep it off,' she ordered. She took him by the upper arm and pushed him towards the door.

‘OK, Heather,' he slurred, the alcohol fumes emanating from him, pungent to say the least. She managed to get him into the car and he slumped down in the seat as she got in beside him and reversed rapidly out of the drive.

‘You know shomething, it was my birthday yeshterday and I thought I'd have a few beers, thatsh all,' he mumbled. ‘Had to drown my sorrows, ya know. I mean, I couldn't give her a baby, I can't even get it up and she rings me and tells me she's having twins with this Indian bloke. What do you think of that, Heather? It'sh enough to turn a man to drink isn't it?' he demanded aggressively.

‘Yes it is, Oliver,' Heather soothed, stunned at his drunken revelations. Noreen was having twins and Oliver wasn't the father. No wonder the poor chap had hit the bottle.

‘Not that I'm much of a man,' Oliver continued dolefully. ‘Had all the tests. Embarrashing, Heather. Can't have kids, can't do the business, what woman is ever going to want to be with me?'

Heather didn't know what to say. ‘Don't worry about it now, Oliver, you just go for a little snooze until the viewings are over,' she murmured as she pulled in between two bright, yellow gorse bushes that hid the car from view of the house. ‘Stay there now,' she said urgently, afraid that the people would arrive early and she wouldn't have the lounge sorted.

‘Don't leave me,' he slurred. ‘I like talking to you.'

‘We'll talk in a little while, Oliver, I promise. Now have a rest there for a few minutes and I'll be back.' She patted him on the arm. ‘Close your eyes, like a good fella,' she ordered and felt a wave of relief when his head drooped and his eyes closed.

She grabbed a bag out of the back seat that contained a duster, polish and a room spray. She always carried it with her to freshen up empty houses that she was showing. Oliver was still half asleep, so she opened the window on her side, closed the door gently and legged it back up the lane as fast as she could in her tight skirt. She rooted around the kitchen presses until she found a bin liner and filled it with the empty beer cans and brandy bottle. A plate held the remains of a cheese sandwich so she tidied that up, ran a brush over the floor and liberally sprayed air freshener around the room. She hurried upstairs to see what the main bedroom was like but the bed was made. Oliver clearly hadn't slept in it. She plumped up the pillows and tweaked the duvet so that it was uncreased. It was a beautiful room with magnificent views; she felt sorry for Oliver that he had to sell the house. She sprayed some polish in the air to give a nice ‘just polished' smell.

She had just finished wiping the crumbs off the kitchen table when the doorbell rang signalling the arrival of the Reillys. Mr and Mrs Reilly were a wealthy couple who owned several businesses in the town. They lived in a luxurious bungalow about a mile out of Kilronan and Heather was sure there was more than a hint of nosiness in their desire to see the Flynns' house. She hated people who came to view with no intention of buying. Already they had a firm offer in, giving the asking price, but both Ray and herself felt that it could go higher if they persevered for a while longer. Oliver had given them another week. He was anxious to get the sale complete.

The Reillys proved to be exremely thorough in their prying, opening every single press and wardrobe. Oliver would be mortified if he realized. He was such a reserved, private man.

‘And why exactly are they selling up? They haven't lived here all that long.' Joan Reilly couldn't contain her curiosity.

‘I just show the houses, Mrs Reilly,' Heather said politely.

‘Oh, the reason I'm asking is that I was wondering was there some fault or flaw?' the older woman riposted frostily, a faint hint of pink in her cheeks at Heather's implication.

‘Well, of course, if you are interested in buying the property, you will be able to have it surveyed. It's always advisable.' Heather smiled sweetly.

‘We'll be in touch with Ray if we decide to put in an offer,' Mrs Reilly said snootily, putting Heather firmly in her place. The doorbell rang. It was the next couple, a freelance tax consultant and his wife who were interested in relocating from Dublin. He was in his mid-thirties, intense and bumptious, his wife a quiet, self-effacing young woman who didn't have much to say for herself. Mrs O'Reilly looked them up and down and swept out the door without so much as a thank you. Her husband grunted something in her direction and followed his wife down the steps.