Woman to Woman (46 page)

“Your hair is different, it’s great.”

Thanks,” she murmured casually, as though she didn’t give a damn what he thought of her. She flicked back a tendril of ash blonde hair off her face, enjoying his discomfiture. Just because you left me, doesn’t mean I turned into a one-woman disaster area, she thought.

“How are things? You’re coping all right with the money I’m paying into your account?” he asked awkwardly.

Despite their earlier fight about money, he’d been generous with his maintenance payments. She was doing fine financially, what with his money and her wages, but Aisling was still nervous of splashing out on anything. The thought of the first few days when she’d found damn-all money in their joint account was still too fresh in her mind. ” ?

“Fine, we’re doing great.”

“Good. How’s the job?”

“Fine.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Michael seemed to be searching for something to say. Under normal circumstances. Aisling, who couldn’t bear awkward silences, would have said something inane just to keep the conversation going. Today she was master of the situation. She said nothing.

“What are you up to tonight?” he asked finally. Any plans?”

Wow, she thought triumphantly, I must look good. A few months ago, Aisling wouldn’t have had any plans for a Saturday night and he knew it. Now, she obviously looked good enough to merit an inquiry about her social life.

“Going to a party,” she said.

“Really. Who’s having the party? Anyone I know?”

“No.” She was cool and calm on the outside, but on the inside she was laughing to her heart’s content. He wanted to know where she was

going, who she was going with and how the hell she was looking this good. But he wouldn’t say a word. He didn’t want to let on that he was consumed with curiosity about the newly blonde Aisling Moran.

After a full two minutes’ silence, she mentally chalked up a point to herself. I bet you’re burning up with curiosity, Michael. Hah!

“You look tired,” she commented.

“Lots of late nights?”

Score two to Aisling.

“You know what it’s like in the News,” he said wearily. To make up for the Saturdays I take off to see the boys, I’m working on Mondays now and end up working very late on “Friday.”

“Dad!” roared Phillip, appearing beside his mother with a bulging hold-all. God only knew what he’d packed. Both twins were magpies who loved collecting junk and loved having it with them at all times, something they’d inherited from Aisling. Her handbags routinely had to be repaired when the handles broke or the stitching came undone from all the bits and pieces she carried around with her.

She gave Paul a hug before doing the same to his brother.

“Be good and take care, darlings.” She stood back in the doorway, making it crystal-clear that the conversation with Michael was over. Her smile was frosty.

“Bye. See you tomorrow she said.

“Yeah, bye.” Michael looked at her blankly for a moment, as if he wanted to say something but decided not to. Then he turned and walked to the car. She watched for a moment, waved goodbye to the boys and shut the front door. Her euphoria vanished instantly. It had been wonderful to give Michael a shock, wonderful to see him re-evaluating her. It had been a short-lived feeling. Without the boys the house felt empty. And so did she.

There was no point staying home and moping, she told herself firmly as she grabbed her handbag, her shopping list and her car keys. Get out of the house or you’ll go mad. Show off your new look.

She dawdled around the Stillorgan shopping centre for ove ran hour, browsing in the bookshop and running her hands along rails of clothes in A-Wear.

She picked up a couple of things and tried them on, but even the thrill of fitting comfortably into a size twelve didn’t cheer her up. She’d felt great earlier. Why had meeting Michael for the first time in weeks plunged her into such despair? Was it because seeing him brought all the pain back, pain that she’d pushed to the back of her mind when she was working or with the twins? Or was it that she missed him?

Damn Michael anyway.

In Quinnsworth, she shopped slowly, meandering between the aisles and picking up the ingredients for the pesto tagliatelle that Jo loved. She was coming to dinner on Sunday and Aisling wanted it to be a special night.

On the phone a few days earlier, Jo had sounded very miserable but couldn’t talk properly because she was working late in the office and wasn’t alone. The poor thing. She was obviously finding it hard coping with pregnancy on her own.

Aisling threw several packets of pasta into her trolley. The boys loved spaghetti and never tired of sucking individual strands of pasta into their mouths and seeing who could suck fastest.

Michael loved ravioli because his Italian grandmother had made ‘the most delicious ravioli in the world’. Despite all her culinary skills, Aisling had never been able to match his granny’s recipe. There’d been no pleasing him, had there?

Why had she even tried? Why was she thinking about him, in fact? He was gone. There was no point crying over Michael.

He had his own life and she had to get on with hers. Tonight was a good time to start. She’d get dressed early and go over to help Fiona with the party preparations. Then she’d chat up all the eligible men Fiona had promised to invite. Ciao, Michael. Hello new life.

“So, you work with Pat. Are you a lawyer?” Gary eased himself into the armchair beside Aisling and gave her the benefit of a gleaming

white smile. He was tall, fair and quite overweight, dwarfing the armchair with his bulk.

For someone who’d only been introduced to her a minute ago, Gary was staring at her in a very familiar manner. His eyes were travelling over her body slowly and carefully as if he were a surveyor looking for dry rot.

“No!” she said loudly, to get his attention away from her chest. She loved wearing the slinky black lace top but it was very revealing and Gary was the second man to be transfixed by her boobs. What was more, he was wearing a wedding ring, although his wife had been nowhere in sight when Pat introduced him. This was her first party as a separated woman land she was very nervous about the whole thing. After twelve years married to one man, her social ising-with-men skills Were, as she’d said to Fiona, nil.

“I’m a secretary at the firm,” Aisling said.

“I work for Anthony Green.”

“Really,” muttered Gary, his mind elsewhere.

“What branch of law do you speciali se in?” she asked pointedly.

“Divorce?”

He sat up like a shot.

“Er, no. Conveyancing.”

God, she couldn’t believe she had the misfortune to meet another leering conveyancing lawyer. She’d thought Leo was the only one, a freak of the legal system. She tried out a frosty stare on Gary. It had worked on Michael earlier.

Gary got the message.

“Excuse me,” he said.

“I must talk to my wife for a moment. I’ll talk to you later.”

Not if I have anything to do with it, Aisling decided, abandoning her chair quickly and heading for the dining room.

It was nearly nine-thirty and most of the guests had arrived, mainly couples with a bottle of wine in hand. She’d spotted only two men arriving without female partners, one a very handsome Scandinavian type in his late thirties and the other slightly older, darkhaired and equally good-looking.

Arriving together, they’d brought champagne and a huge, feathery fern for Fiona who would, as Aisling knew, immediately kill it. The men

hugged Fiona, shook hands with Pat and went into the dining room to get a drink. As Maria would have said, you wouldn’t kick either of them out of bed for eating crisps. But the more Aisling watched them surreptitiously, the more she became convinced that they were a couple. She drained her glass of red wine and found Fiona holding court beside the bar, with four men around her.

Typical, Finucane!” she whispered in Fiona’s ears. The only blokes I’m interested in are gay and the only ones who are interested in me are lecherous or married!”

The dilemma of the modern single woman,” Fiona whispered back.

“I did notice Gary move in on you. I decided not to rescue you because I knew he was just your type. Actually, his wife has known Pat since college which is why he’s here, otherwise I wouldn’t have him in the house. He’s a pig.”

“You can say that again,” Aisling remarked.

“I don’t think he actually looked at my face once during our entire conversation.”

That’s what happens when you flaunt yourself, you trollop,” Fiona said deadpan.

“Seriously, you’ll love Anders and Peter. I’ll introduce them to you. Anders is from Sweden, as if you couldn’t tell, and they’re both brilliant fun. But don’t worry,” she added with a grin.

“I promise you, there are some lovely men coming later who aren’t gay, married or devoted to their mothers. Now, have another drink.”

For the next hour, Aisling had a whale of a time. Fiona’s clique of men friends were delighted to talk to the attractive blonde in the sexy outfit, while Aisling enjoyed a little flirtation, knowing that Fiona was there to bail her out if anything got too serious.

“If I wasn’t married, I’d definitely chance my arm there,” one man said to Fiona.

“Giles, if you weren’t married, you wouldn’t be interested in her,” Fiona pointed out reasonably.

“You’d be running after some mysterious married woman. It’s all the thrill of the’ forbidden, you know.”

Fiona dips, crudites and small bowls of black and gree ri stuffed

olives were going down a treat. Aisling had eaten far too much and was sitting on the corner of the settee talking to Fiona’s sister-in-law, Sandra, when Fiona tapped her on the arm.

“Sorry to interrupt, Sandra, but I’ve got this divine man I want Aisling to meet.”

“Goody,” said Aisling getting to her feet. She felt very confident and quite tipsy thanks to five glasses of Australian red. She followed Fiona into the kitchen where a man in an open-necked denim shirt and chinos was sprawled on a kitchen chair laughing and joking with Pat. He looked up as she walked in and her first impression was that he had the same olive skin as Michael, but there the resemblance ended.

He had the most incredible bright blue eyes, a wide, mobile mouth which was curved into a grin and chestnut hair worn down to his shirt collar.

“Sam Delaney, meet Aisling Moran,” said Fiona.

Sam jumped to his feet and held out one hand.

“Delighted to meet you, Aisling. I’ve heard all about you and now I want to hear your side.”

Everyone laughed, especially Pat, who was well on his way to being plastered.

“Nice to meet you too,” said Aisling. She took his hand and looked down, seeing strong tanned wrists feathered with coppery hairs. Was she imagining it or had he held her hand for longer than was strictly necessary?

She looked into his face and smiled a five-glasses-of-red-wine smile.

“Are you gay, married or devoted to your mother?” she asked.

Fiona snorted into her gin sling.

“No,” breathed Sam, leaning forward so that his face was only a few inches away from hers.

“I’m available.” “Mhe too,” said Aisling with a large grin.

“Sit down,” said Sam, pulling up a chair for her and positioning it close to his. Aisling sank onto the chair, put her empty glass on the table and turned to look at Sam. He was watching her, the blue eyes

taking in every movement. Unlike the lecherous Gary, Sam’s eyes didn’t linger too long on the curves revealed by her lacy outfit. But he looked long enough to tell Aisling he was interested. Very interested.

Stone-cold sober, she knew she’d have been nervous at the thought of chatting up such a handsome man. But the combination of wine, her new image and the compliments from Fiona’s male friends made her feel ready for anything. As Sam filled her glass from a full bottle of red wine, her normal inhibitions drained away. She felt attractive, flirtatious and reckless.

“How come I’ve never met you before, Sam?” she said, savouring the sound of his name on her tongue. Sam. What a sexy name.

“I could say the same about you,” he answered.

“Sam’s been abroad for five years,” interrupted Pat from the other side of the table.

“Working in Texas.”

Texas. Wow. That must have been interesting,” Aisling said.

She put her elbow on the table and propped her head up with one hand, letting silky strands of blonde hair hang between her fingers. She’d seen Jo do it and it had looked very provocative.

“What do you do?”

“I’m in computer software. I was in Texas for four years working for one company and in Louisiana for another two years,” Sam explained.

That’s six years,” said Pat, sounding surprised.

“I thought it was five.”

“I think we better mingle with our guests said Fiona firmly.

She dragged Pat off with her, leaving Aisling and Sam alone in the kitchen. Their eyes met and they both broke out laughing at the same time.

“I get the idea that Fiona is doing her best to fix us up with each other,” Sam said.

Aisling flushed and took a deep slug of wine.

“I know. Sorry,” she said quickly.

“I’m sure it’s a real pain in the ass having women thrown at you every time you come back to Ireland for a holiday.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Aisling,” Sam said softly. She liked the way he said her name.

“I’m delighted they left us alone.

I’m enjoying myself. And,” he added, picking up his glass and holding it towards hers, “I’m not on holiday. I’m home for good.”

They clinked glasses companionably.

Tell me about Texas,” Aisling said.

“I’ve never even been to America and Texas sounds so exotic, so Dallas!”

“It’s not really like Dallas,” said Sam with a chuckle.

“It used to be, or so they tell me. Houston, where I worked, is a very cosmopolitan city, all mirror-windowed skyscrapers and Cadillacs.

But the oil boom was over in the early Eighties and the whole city suffered. So there aren’t as many millionaires as there used to be. None like J. R.” anyway.”

“Damn,” said Aisling.