Two For Joy (59 page)

47

Noreen woke from her sleep with a start. It was almost dawn. A strange unfamiliar sensation enveloped her and then as clear as anything she felt the little fluttery movements in her tummy. Joy leapt in her as her hand slid down to the smooth curve of her lightly rippling belly. Her children were kicking in her womb. How magical.

How good that sounded. Her children.

‘Hello, my darlings,' she murmured. ‘How are you today? I wish it was time for you to come out so I could see you. Are you two little girls or two little boys or a girl and a boy? I'm doing up a lovely nursery for you. Uncle Oliver told me that the house is being sold today so I'm bringing over some of the furniture I had at home and our new home will be very comfortable.'

She lay serenely against her pillows. Oliver had phoned to say that the house was almost sold and she should make a list of what she wanted from it so that he could ship it over to her. He sounded much more like his old self, brisk, businesslike, organized. That was good, she thought gratefully. The quiet, subdued, depressed Oliver was so unlike his true nature.
God, please send a good and loving woman into Oliver's life,
she prayed. She didn't like to think of him being alone. She had Kay and Rajiv and she'd have her twins to devote herself to. Oliver was the only thing she had left to feel guilty about. If Oliver was sorted, everything would be fine.

*   *   *

Neil Brennan lay tossing and turning in bed. He hated Lorna Morgan. She'd ruined his life, the she-witch. The whole of Kilronan would be laughing at him. Heather and Oliver Flynn had been sniggering at him when Heather's mother had ordered him out of the church grounds. His accountant had had a Mickey fit when he'd studied the New York Visa bill. Neil was seriously up to his ears in debt. He was going to have to knuckle down and get the show on the road again. But somehow he didn't feel like getting up for work and getting out there and competing. He'd lost his edge. All he could think about was that sly, freeloading cow and how she'd ripped him off.

Well, he
would
get off his ass and get out to work, he decided grimly. He was going to become so fucking rich, she'd cry every time she heard his name mentioned. Because she could have had it all and she'd blown her chance. He'd show her. By God, he'd show Lorna Morgan just what she'd turned her back on, Neil vowed.

But as soon as he got to the office he was going to make one very important phone call. One person could get him back on track workwise. That would be the start of it.

*   *   *

Lorna didn't know what she felt as flight EI 105 took off from Dublin and headed west towards Shannon. Her mother had brought her to the airport and hugged her tightly. The only good thing to come out of all this was that she'd grown a lot closer to Jane, she thought despondently as she unbuckled her seatbelt. Her father was hardly talking to her, so disgusted was he at her taking Neil away from Heather, and Heather … Lorna cringed. Her cousin really despised her and pitied her. That was skanky. How dare she talk to her the way she had at the funeral? She
did
have friends, she assured herself. Carina was a friend. Suzie, her housemate in Yonkers, was a friend. Weren't they? Lorna's heart sank to rock-bottom. Heather was right. She had no one. Carina and Suzie weren't bosom pals that you could share anything with, the way she'd shared with Heather.

Oliver and Heather had looked so … so
comfortable
together. There was no one now that she was comfortable with. No one she could truly be herself with. No one who knew what was behind the façade. Once she got back to New York the mask would have to go on again, and this time it all seemed like a bit of an effort. Would she have the energy to sustain it? she wondered dully, accepting a small bottle of red wine from the air hostess. Imagine arriving in New York with no one to meet her and then having to move by herself. Carina and Suzie would probably be off hill-walking in the Catskills if they weren't working. They had a great social life with lots of friends. Lorna's policy of not mixing with the Irish, while she was on the hunt for Mr Upper East Side, had ensured that she had no male friends to lug black sacks of possessions from Yonkers to the East Village. She'd probably have to do it all by herself.

Feeling lonelier than she'd ever felt in her life, Lorna sipped her red wine and wondered how she could have got it all so terribly wrong.

*   *   *

Heather took extra pains to look her best for the final viewing at Oliver's today. She applied a light frosting of pink lipstick and then sprayed herself lightly with White Linen. She felt a little nervous. After her realization at her grandmother's funeral the previous day that Oliver could be the one, she'd lain awake imagining scenarios of how they would fall into each other's arms and confess their love to each other. It felt very right, somehow. These past few weeks getting to know him had lifted her out of her depression. But then she'd wonder if Oliver viewed her in the same light as she was starting to view him. He'd never flirted with her or made any attempt to go beyond the teasing, friendly, easygoing relationship that had developed between them. Maybe he just didn't fancy her either, she fretted. His wife had been very slim and tall, not on the short, curvy side like Heather. Up and down her emotions seesawed as she pondered the unknowable.

And just say she was the one, what about the children thing? She was young enough now, but might she feel desperately unfulfilled in her mid-thirties when she hadn't become a mother? It wasn't that she was particularly maternal, she decided. She didn't have much to do with children and what you didn't have you didn't miss. At least she could make a decision based on knowledge. Noreen hadn't had that option, the poor thing.

Was she mad or what? Oliver probably never gave her a thought when she wasn't with him.

Heather stared at her reflection in the mirror, noting how her new shorter layered look highlighted the copper glints in her chestnut hair and made her hazel eyes seem wider. She'd lost a few pounds too, she noted, pleased with the reappearance of cheekbones, on to which she brushed some blusher to add emphasis. She wanted him to fancy her. Somehow it seemed terribly important now.

‘That hairstyle really suits you,' Lia complimented when she walked back into the office to get her briefcase.

‘Thanks, Lia. I'd had the bob for yonks. It's nice to try something different.' Heather smiled at her colleague. Lia was always chatty and good-humoured. The atmosphere in the office was so different from that awful place she'd worked in in Dublin. She looked forward to coming to work every morning. The phone rang. Lia answered it.

‘It's for you. I just want to pop into the chemist for a packet of Feminax, I'm in bits,' she grimaced.

‘Fine,' Heather said as she picked up the phone. ‘Hello?'

‘Heather, hi,' a familiar voice said. Heather's eyes widened in recognition.

‘Neil, can I help you?' she said coolly.

‘Well, I hope so, Heather. I've a proposition to put to you. Whatever you're getting in Carleton's I'll pay you fifty Euro a week more if you'll come back and run the office for me. All business and above board – you probably wouldn't want to get back with me again,' he said in a ‘poor me' sort of voice.

‘You can say that again, Neil. You're the last person I'd want to get back with if I was to be on my own until the day I die—'

‘OK, OK, I appreciate that, but I'm offering you a good job. I'll throw in a car as well.' He sounded desperate.

‘No thanks. Not interested. 'Bye,' Heather said crisply and hung up. What an idiot, she thought, smiling. He hadn't got a clue. But his phone call made her feel good all the same. It gave her a nice, satisfying sense of closure, just like she'd had with Lorna yesterday.

Lia arrived back, munching on a bar of chocolate. ‘PMT,' she explained, offering Heather a couple of squares.

‘No thanks. I'm on a diet,' Heather said cheerily. Things were really going good so far today – it was unusual for her not to be tempted to eat chocolate. ‘I'm off to Oliver Flynn's for that last viewing, see you later for the Fennelly auction.' Taking a deep breath, Heather set off with a tingle of anticipation, which was completely dashed when she arrived at Oliver's to find that he wasn't there. She let herself in feeling utterly disappointed. There was no need for him to be at the viewing, but from the way he'd been talking at the funeral she'd felt he was going to be there.

‘See! He doesn't fancy you!' she muttered as she plumped up the cushions on the sofa and tweaked the curtains to hang perfectly from their tiebacks.

*   *   *

Oliver stood in a florist's in Navan while the assistant put the finishing touches to the bouquet he'd just purchased. He'd gone to Navan because if he'd bought flowers in Butler's in Kilronan, the whole town would have known about it. He felt nervous. He'd never done such an impulsive thing before where women were concerned but he wanted to thank Heather for all the effort she'd put into selling the house and also because she'd been so completely understanding about the time he'd gone on the batter. He smiled thinking of her. Heather was great fun, he thought warmly. He liked talking to her, she had an unusual slant on life that was refreshing. He'd been really impressed by how honest she'd been with him the day Neil Brennan and Lorna Morgan had had their bust-up outside the church. She'd openly admitted that she'd enjoyed it and was glad they were going their separate ways. She'd been honest enough to admit also that it might have been her pride more than her heart that was affected. If he was honest with himself there was a touch of that in how he felt about what had happened between him and Noreen. It was only when he'd heard Heather admitting the truth to herself that he'd allowed himself to think about his own situation.

His pride
had
been hurt. And his ego and his vision of himself as a fit, healthy, virile male. That had been dented badly but it wasn't fair to blame it on Noreen. Her insistence on trying for a baby hadn't helped but that was all water under the bridge now and there was no point in revisiting it. Since the day he'd been on the batter and blurted it all out to Heather he hadn't felt so badly about himself. She'd been very understanding and sensitive, and surprisingly, he wasn't at all embarrassed with her. That in itself was a miracle for him. He was looking forward to their drink tonight. It was nice to have female companionship, apart from his mother's. What would she think of Heather? Oliver had a feeling Cora might like her.

Stop thinking like that, he told himself. It wasn't as if Heather would give him a second look, especially knowing that he couldn't have children. Suddenly he wondered if the flowers were such a good idea. Too late now, they were paid for. Was he going over the top, he wondered. Would Heather be embarrassed? But he wanted her to know that he was grateful to her for her friendship when it mattered. What was wrong with letting her know that he was grateful? Oliver marched out of the shop with his bouquet, looking grimly determined.

*   *   *

Heather was just locking Oliver's front door when he drove up looking harassed. She felt her heart lift and beamed at him like an eejit. ‘Hiya,' she said shyly when he got out of the car. ‘They went up another five thou! They want it badly. Told you.'

Oliver grinned. ‘They're afraid of you. That psychic has probably put a spell on them.'

‘Stop it, Oliver. She has a gift, you know.' Heather laughed, starting to feel relaxed again. It was so nice to see him, to be in his company. She wanted to hug him.

‘Have you to go rushing off?' he said diffidently.

‘Well, I haven't had my lunch yet and we have an auction this afternoon.'

‘Have you time for a cup of tea?'

‘Yeah, why not,' Heather agreed happily.

‘Go in and put the kettle on, I've to get something out of the car,' he instructed.

‘Yes, sir!' Heather inserted the key in the lock once more.

She had her back to him at the sink when he walked into the kitchen.

‘I thought you might like these. I know women set store by them. I hope you like the colour. Thanks for everything,' Oliver said awkwardly, thrusting a huge bouquet of baby pink roses laced with frothy white gypsophila at her.

‘Oh, Oliver!' Her eyes widened with delight. ‘Oh, Oliver, they're
beautiful.
Oh, Oliver,' she repeated inanely.

‘That was my name when I got up this morning all right.' He grinned, delighted with her reaction.

‘Oh, Oliver,' she said again and started laughing. ‘Thank you. I've never had such beautiful flowers before. Neil always got his from the newsagent's,' she added dryly. ‘Pink roses are my favourites.'

They smiled at each other and she was struck by how blue his eyes were.

‘You're lovely, Oliver.' It burst out of her.

He flushed shyly. ‘You're fairly lovely yourself, Heather,' he managed, dropping his gaze.

‘Don't be shy with me.' She put the roses down on the table and went over and put her arms around him in a hug.

His arms came up and tightened around her. ‘What are we doing?' he whispered.

‘Being dear friends,' she whispered back.

‘That's all we can be,' he said slowly, drawing away from her.

‘Why?' she looked at him, puzzled.

‘You know why. You know what I told you about having children.'

‘Oh that,' she murmured, hugging him again, enjoying the hardness of his chest against the side of her face and the manly clean scent of him.

‘Yes, that,' Oliver said firmly.

‘OK, Oliver,' she said meekly. ‘Whatever you say.'

‘Are you teasing me?' he demanded, looking down into her laughing eyes.