Woman to Woman (51 page)

“Hello, ladies,” Mark said warmly.

“Did you have a nice lunch?”

Jo looked up sharply. He was standing at the other side of the table, smiling at the five of them. She stood just behind him, an elegant vision straight out of the pages of Vogue. Jo could have sworn that the string of pearls around her neck was real, they had that expensive real-pearl lustre.

“This is a lunch for our make-over ladies, Mark,” Nikki was saying.

“Helen and Sharon, meet Mark Denton, Style’s publisher.

And you know Nell, don’t you?”

“Yes, hello, Helen, Sharon and Nell. And how are you, Jo?”

he asked, looking directly at Jo’s startled face.

“Fine.” she said brightly.

“Marvellous! How was your lunch?”

she inquired in the same high-pitched tone.

“Very nice,” Mark answered, looking at her curiously.

The food is just wonderful here, isn’t it?” Eva said in her faintly accented voice, as she slid one arm through Mark’s.

“It’s hard not to eat too much.” She patted a stomach flat as a pancake.

Cow, thought Jo. Just because she’s skinny, she doesn’t have to look down on the rest of us.

“Eva, this is Jo Ryan,” introduced Mark, “Style’s deputy and fashion editor, Nikki Ahearn, our beauty editor, Nell Deane, who’s a photographer and Sharon and Helen who’ve just had a make-over and look gorgeous, if I may say so.” Sharon went pink with pleasure.

“How nice to meet you all.” Eva’s smile looked remarkably genuine, Jo

thought sourly. But then it would, wouldn’t it? A husband and a lover she was having her cake and eating it too. “I’m glad to see that you’re back at work, Jo,” Mark said gently, looking her straight in the eye. Jo glared at him. Was that some sort of dig?

“I have felt better,” she snapped.

“I can see that,” he replied.

“You look worn out.”

The bastard. Just because she wasn’t done up like a dog’s dinner, he didn’t have to be so smart. “When is your baby due?” inquired Eva politely, gazing at Jo’s stomach.”

“Four months well, four and a half, actually.”

“Is it your first?” Eva asked next.

What was this, Jo fumed, bloody Mastermind?

“Yes.”

“Oh.” The other woman appeared to notice her coolness.

“We should go now, Mark,” she murmured, her dark glossy head close to his. Eva was tall, Jo realised, around five ten if she could talk to Mark without craning her neck the way Jo had to.

“Of course, Eva. We don’t want to be late,” he said.

“Bye, ladies, it’s been nice meeting you.” Mark looked at Jo briefly.

“I’ll see you next week at the editorial meeting.”

“Yeah, bye.”

“So nice to meet you all,” Eva said warmly.

Jo took a sip of her coffee even though it was practically lukewarm. She was determined not to watch them leave. But she couldn’t resist. As she glanced up they were at the door, Mark’s strong arm opening the door for Eva to walk through.

Chivalrous as ever.

The waiter brought the bill along with a small plate of After Eights. Nobody touched them. No point wasting them. Jo reached in and took three. What was the point of watching her figure anyway? Nobody noticed.

“I can’t believe you never told me about her!” Jo’s voice was angry.

She stood in Rhona’s office and stared crossly down at her friend. Rhona, who’d been working on her monthly editorial when Jo stormed in after lunch in Spinelli’s, leaned back in her chair and looked at Jo.

“Listen, Jo, Mark told me about Eva in confidence.” Rhona’s voice was very firm and very serious.

“He told me one night a long time before you joined Style and he told me as a friend, asked me not to tell anyone about it. I’m not saying it was easy to keep it to myself, especially that day when I told you Mark had been interested in you for a long time. But honestly, Jo,” Rhona said earnestly, ‘by then I thought you could do without hearing about his beloved ex-girlfriend, a woman he’d adored for years. That would hardly have made you feel very special, would it?”

“I suppose …” said Jo slowly. A woman he’d adored for years? What hope had she against that sort of competition?

A pregnant woman who flew off the handle at the drop of a hat could hardly compete with an exotic artist who’d loved him for years.

“Anyway, it’s over. They split up a long time ago,” Rhona said.

They looked very much together at lunch today,” Jo pointed out.

“They were all over each other.”

“Believe me.” Rhona’s voice was serious. They’re not together any more. Look Jo, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about her, but that would have been breaking a confidence and I couldn’t do that to Mark. I’ve known him a long time and he trusts me. He’s also very perceptive. If I’d spilled the beans to you, he’d have worked out who told you in two minutes flat.

And he’d have gone mad.”

Rhona lit up a cigarette, then stubbed it out hurriedly.

“Sorry, I keep forgetting not to smoke in front of you,” she said.

“Jo, I wanted to tell you loads of times, but when you really became interested in him, you wouldn’t have appreciated it. And I knew Mark would want to tell you himself if he was serious about you. Can’t you understand the dilemma I was in?”

Jo sighed and sat down in the chair opposite Rhona.

“Sorry, Rho.” she apologised.

“I’ve no right to barge in here and screech at you. I’m angry at myself really, for even thinking he could be interested in me. And if he was,” she added quickly, seeing that Rhona was going to interrupt, “I’ve screwed it up myself. I should have business cards made up “Jo Ryan Incorporated. Will Destroy Any Relationship in Ten Minutes Flat.” ‘ “Don’t be daft,” said Rhona impatiently.

“You’ve just had a bad couple of weeks. He’s not still involved with Eva, I’m sure of it.”

“Even if he isn’t, he’s definitely not interested in me any more,” Jo said sadly.

“So, now that I’m no longer an interested party, is there anything else I should know about Mr. Denton?

Has he ten kids hidden away somewhere, or a mad wife locked in the attic, perhaps?”

She tried to sound flip but Rhona knew her too well for that.

“No,” Rhona said.

“He has remarkably few skeletons in the cupboard. A lot less than I have she added with a wry grin.

“But let him tell you about Eva.”

“He’s not going to tell me anything.”

“You have it your way,” Rhona replied. She changed the subject.

“So tell me, is the November issue too early for the “I know we all want to go on a diet for Christmas, readers, but let’s be grown-ups and accept the way we are” editorial?”

“No, November is fine,” Jo said.

“Let’s leave the “diet your way to beauty” until the January issue and I’ll be one of the guinea pigs when I have to lose the two stone I’ll have put on by then.”

She had just switched on her computer and was looking at the Christmas Glamour Look photos that Ralph had delivered, when her phone rang.

“Jo. I wonder could I have a word with you?” Mark said.

“I’m busy,” she snapped.

“I’m sure you are he replied.

“But this is important.”

“Fine. Talk.” “I want to see you, Jo, not have you talk in monosyllables on the phone.”

Oh no, she thought, she couldn’t handle that, she couldn’t handle actually seeing him. She didn’t want to see him ever again because she knew she’d just break down and cry if she did. If she could keep away from him for a while, then she’d be fine, she knew it. She’d get over Mark Denton. She’d have to.

“I can’t see you right now, Mark,” she said firmly.

“Can’t you talk on the phone? Anyway, I thought you were tied up for the afternoon?” she added smartly.

“I’m not busy,” he said slowly.

“I think we’ve got some unfinished business and I want it sorted out right now.”

“Oh, you mean me calling you names and telling you where you could stick your job. I’m sorry,” Jo said in a low voice.

“I

apologise, I had no right to say those things.”

That’s not really it,” Mark said, ‘that’s just part of the problem. I want to know what’s behind it, what’s going on.

There seems to have been some sort of misunderstanding between us”

Jo froze. She knew exactly what he meant. He was talking about her feelings for him, her ‘infatuation’. She’d all but chatted him up in New York, flirted shamelessly with him and behaved like a spurned girlfriend when he hadn’t rung her over Emma’s little explosion. Now he was going to warn her off. Of course he was. He was back with the love of his life and he wanted all the loose ends tied up. He didn’t want to subject poor Eva to any more of Jo’s ferocious stares, did he?

What a mess. She couldn’t let him think that she really fancied him, that would be too cringe-making. She had to say something.

“I’m sorry,” she gabbled at high speed.

“I know I’ve been acting strangely, but it’s the baby. The baby,” she paused, before inspiration struck, ‘and Richard. He’s back and we’re talking, and I’m going through a difficult time, sorting everything out. You know.”

“Oh.” Mark’s voice sounded different, remote.

“I see,” he said coolly.

“Of course, I understand. Sorry to bother you, Jo, I’ll let you get back to work.”

He hung up. Jo sat with the phone against her ear and wished Brenda wasn’t sitting at the desk opposite, gabbling away to her boyfriend, so

that she could cry.

“Tell me all about Sam. Is he drop-dead gorgeous? Or,” Jo curled her stockinged feet up under her on the armchair in Aisling’s sitting room and adjusted her huge grey woollen cardigan until she was comfortable, ‘does he have any brothers?”

“Not that I know of replied Aisling, ‘but then, there are lots of things I don’t know about him.”

It was true. Since the party seven days ago, Aisling had spoken to him on the phone twice and both conversations had been funny, jokey and absent of any information. It had been so blissfully unlike all those stilted boy girl conversations she’d had years ago when she started going out with boys. You talked about what school you’d gone to, or what courses you were doing in college and where your parents came from. So you could ‘place’ the person and figure out if it was safe to bring him home.

She’d been married so long that she could barely remember life before Michael, life when she had gone on dates with a variety of men who were always unsuitable in her father’s opinion. Dating as a grown-up was much more fun. No one had to approve of her choice, except herself.

“No,” she said thoughtfully, “I’m pretty sure Sam has a couple of sisters but no brothers.”

That’s perfect.” Jo reached for another chocolate-chip cookie.

“If he has sisters, he’ll understand women. Not like those MCPs who’ve grown up with an adoring mammie and no female company to educate them about the ways of the world. These biscuits are delicious she added, taking a big bite.

“Did you make them yourself?”

Aisling laughed. These days I’m lucky if I get to make the bed in the morning, never mind bake biscuits.”

“Well, they look homemade.”

They are homemade but not from my home. I got them at the boys’ school fete along with a ton of apple tarts and fairy cakes I’ve frozen so I can drag them out and impress people with my home cooking all year long. Pity I never copped on to that when I was a housewife,” Aisling remarked drily.

“You’re not having any,” said Jo. While she’d been enjoying a mug of frothy hot chocolate and biscuits, Aisling had been sipping black coffee.

“I never eat biscuits any more, unless I can see the pack and know exactly how many calories there are in each one,” Aisling explained.

“It took me long enough to get the weight off, so I’m not putting it back on again.”

“You look great,” Jo said with sincerity. The slightly plump, out-of-shape Aisling was a thing of the past. She was svelte in a pair of slim black trousers and a soft angora jumper in a caramel colour which matched her newly dyed hair. It wasn’t even how Aisling looked that made the difference, Jo realised. , She had changed from the inside out.

The nervous, miserable woman of four months ago, constantly on the verge of tears, had gone to be replaced by an attractive woman who had learned to live life on her own terms.”

Jo remembered when she’d felt that she was living life on her terms. That had been before she’d become pregnant, before Richard had showed his true colours, before she’d fallen, disastrously, for Mark. Now, she hurtled along a path she hadn’t chosen, scared and exhilarated at the same time.

She felt Aisling’s hand on her shoulder and looked up to see her friend sit on the arm of the chair with a concerned expression on her face.

Are you all right?” Aisling asked gently. ” “Yes.” She snuffled.

“I was thinking about this time over three months ago when I thought everything was fine. When I first got pregnant and I thought he’d want the baby as much as I did.” She stroked her belly lovingly.

“I want the baby so much, I can’t understand how he didn’t. I thought

it was all going to be so perfect. ““But it wasn’t, he wasn’t. Richard was lying and sooner or later he’d have shown his true colours,” Aisling said earnestly.

“You couldn’t have lived with the sort of man who’d want you to have an abortion so you could both go abroad to work with no strings attached.”

“I know,” Jo said simply.

Aisling wasn’t finished.

“The life you had was a house of cards, Jo. Mine was the same and it was bound to tumble down sooner or later. I know it was agony when it all fell apart, but let’s be honest, there’s no easy way to break up a relationship. And we’ve passed that horrible, depressing stage, both of us,” she insisted.

“We’re on to the next stage. I know you’re in bits about having the baby on your own and of course it would be better to have a father for him …”

“Her,” said Jo with a grin.

“I know it’s a girl, I just feel it.

Aren’t you, my darling?” she cooed at her bump.

“I understand what you’re saying, Ash, I really do. No father is better than a father like Richard,” she recited, as if she was repeating a mantra she’d said to herself many, many times before.