But there was a soft burr to his voice that suggested Ireland via an English boarding school. He also had the smallest of holes in one earlobe, which made Niamh think that perhaps he didn’t have a rod up his arse like everyone else in that room.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Did you say thirty-six grand?’
‘I did.’
Niamh turned the leaflet over, looking at yet another photograph of a sparkly, shiny skyscraper stretching into a cloudless sky.
‘I’m not really sure it’s my cup of tea.’ She handed the leaflet back and turned to walk away.
‘What are you studying?’ Charlie asked as he stepped to the side, blocking her exit.
Niamh fiddled with one of the chains around her neck, rubbing the metal between finger and thumb as she weighed up the pros and cons of answering. He had an agenda, that much was clear, and it felt a little as if he were performing a sales pitch in order to earn his commission. But he had a kind sort of face, and was one of the only people in the room who wasn’t looking at her as if she didn’t belong.
‘History.’
‘Then there’s always research instead of trading.’ He nodded as he spoke. ‘You don’t have to be a maths graduate to join.’
‘Oh, she’s an absolute whizz with numbers.’ Erika rested her hand on Charlie’s shoulder, using the other one to pull Niamh further into the conversation.
‘Would you stop?’ Niamh pushed Erika’s hand away.
‘I assume you did maths as part of your Highers?’
‘We had to.’ But if he was asking, then he probably already knew all about the Irish education system. It seemed as if it was his job to find out everything he could about her, to determine whether she was the sort of person his superiors would approve of.
‘What did you get?’ He was still blocking the exit and Niamh tried to look past him. ‘If you don’t mind me asking.’
‘A one.’ If she answered his questions, he would let her go.
‘In maths?’
‘In everything.’
‘Seriously?’ The tone of his voice made Niamh snap her head back to him. She was expecting to find disbelief or amusement on his face, but instead there was only admiration.
‘Seriously. I was a bit of a nerd. Spent more time in the library than down the pub.’
‘In that case you should seriously – I can’t believe I just said that – consider applying for our summer intern programme.’ He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a business card. ‘It’s a great way to get a feel for all the different areas within the bank.’
Niamh looked at the small, white card embossed with a corporate logo and the contact details of a stranger, then tried to hand it back.
‘Thanks, Charlie. But it’s really not for me.’
Charlie curled his hands over hers. ‘How about I buy you a drink? We can reminisce about the Emerald Isle and I’ll try to get you to change your mind?’
‘Where are you from?’ Niamh asked as she withdrew her hand.
‘Dublin.’
‘Then it’s definitely a no,’ Niamh said with a laugh.
‘Cork?’ Charlie said with one raised brow.
‘By way of Galway.’
‘That explains the accent. I always get the piss taken out of me whenever I go home. Get told I’ve spent too much time on the wrong side of the sea.’
Niamh thought of Robin, and all the others she’d met who found it amusing to make fun of her accent. It was just one of many things that made her stand out in this ostentatious world she found herself in, and not in a good way.
‘Stop flirting with her, she’s taken,’ Erika said as she steered Niamh away from Charlie and towards the exit. ‘But you can come find me later.’
‘I might just do that,’ Charlie said, draining his own glass and watching them go.
‘Are we done?’ Niamh leant into Erika’s side as they walked away, overcome with the need to sit down.
‘Not yet.’ Erika paused to peer into each of the rooms as they passed. ‘I want to go and schmooze with the lawyers.’
‘Why? You’ve always said you wanted to be a banker.’ Niamh glanced at her watch, wondering if Leo was in the room where Erika wanted to go. She also wondered whether she wanted Erika to bump into him there without her.
‘Look, you know as well as I do that money makes a difference to what kind of life you can live.’ Erika picked up two more glasses and passed one to Niamh. ‘I have every intention of making as much of it as I possibly can so that I no longer have to listen to my mother’s god-awful advice about finding some lord or duke or whatever to marry.’
‘I thought you made it a point never to listen to your mother?’
‘I do, but I need her to realise I’m nothing like her.’
‘I thought she was rather grand.’
‘Of course you did. Because she is an expert at making people fall in love with her.’
Sounds a bit like you, Niamh thought to herself, but knew better than to make any kind of comparison between Erika and her mother. Apparently all the freedoms and privileges that Erika had grown up with came with the assumption that she would follow the path laid out for her by her parents. Having met Leo, Niamh now wondered if controlling parents was a curse bestowed on all the uber-rich students she seemed to be surrounded by. It also made her wonder whether coming from nothing was in fact better, because the expectations were so much lower.
‘The point is,’ Erika said as she stared across the room at a thirty-something man who was watching her watching him. ‘Once I’ve climbed the corporate ladder to the very top, I shall be in need of a husband.’
‘You just said you didn’t want to get married.’
‘No, I said I had no desire to be dependent on someone else for money. But it would be nice to have someone to share it all with, don’t you think?’ She may have been talking to Niamh, but all her attention, all her subtle adjustments to her posture and the way she licked the side of her mouth, were very much directed at the man across the room.
‘I think I’m going to leave you to it.’
Erika gave a little tut as she looked down at her friend. ‘Niamh, älskling, you can’t put the future off forever.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Don’t sulk. It doesn’t suit you.’
‘I wish Duncan were here. He’d back me up.’
‘That’s because you are his favourite.’ She reached out and tapped the end of Niamh’s nose. It was an annoying habit of hers that only ever came out when she was drunk or in need of a favour. ‘Mine too, which is why you are coming back home with me for Christmas.’
So it was a favour, but for Niamh not Erika. One that was not-so-cleverly disguised as yet another invitation to spend the holidays with her. Erika understood all too well that the only thing waiting for Niamh back in Cork was the prospect of a couple of shifts at the local pub and a Boxing Day visit to her adoptive grandfather, whose home smelt of wet dog and mould.
It was this quiet understanding between them, one they never needed to actively speak of, that made Niamh feel so connected to her friend. Like an invisible cord that would gently tug whenever the other was in need.
‘I’m going to get a drink,’ she said, looking around in search of the bar.
‘You have a drink.’
‘Not this shite.’ Niamh abandoned her glass filled with pale-yellow bubbles and nodded back towards reception. ‘I mean a real drink. I’ll see you in the bar.’
The floor was polished walnut, the walls were painted a deep shade of burgundy and the bar stools were made from the softest brown leather. A row of clear-glass spherical lights hung over the bar and there was a double-height bay window at the far end that looked out on to Magdalen Street. Just as in the rest of the hotel, everyone there was dressed to impress, including someone standing in the window, wearing a pale-grey suit.
Leo.
Niamh hesitated, unsure whether she should go up to him or turn around and go back to her college, hide
up in her attic room and pretend that the whole situation didn’t make her feel ridiculously uncomfortable.
But it was too late; Leo had spotted her and was walking over with that irritatingly perfect smile of his.
‘Hey,’ he said as he bent down to kiss her and she hated the way her stomach flipped in response. Just like it always did whenever he touched her or looked at her or stood in the same room as her. In fact, it happened even when she thought about him, and the knowledge he could affect her in such a way, no matter whether it was intentional or not, was terrifying.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Giving Erika moral support.’
‘From what you’ve told me, I would have thought that’s the last thing she needs.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
‘Don’t be mean.’ She fiddled with the knot of his tie, staring at a small shaving nick on his throat. ‘She’s only got my best interests at heart.’
‘So do I.’ He bent down to kiss her again and whispered against her mouth. ‘I missed you last night.’
She kissed him back, registering the taste of whiskey on his lips. ‘I rather liked having a whole single bed to myself.’ It may have been less than a fortnight since their date on the river, but time seemed to condense itself in that city, so that two weeks became more like two months, or even longer.
After that first kiss she had given in, allowed herself to fall completely and utterly under his spell, and when all their heated fumbles turned into actual, full-blown, mind-bendingly delicious sex, it made Niamh silently grateful that she hadn’t given herself to anyone before. They had spent every night since in each other’s beds, only leaving one another to attend tutorials or shower, and each morning when Niamh woke she had to mentally pinch herself that he was really there, with her.
Duncan had teased her about it, told her she was already flushed with love. Erika had been less enthusiastic, asking why Niamh was hiding Leo away if he was really that fabulous? Niamh had smiled, said something innocuous about it being too soon to tell, but really she was nervous that once Leo met her friends, something of the magic between them would be lost.
It was like nothing she had ever felt before: that need, that desire to be with someone all the time. To touch them and have them touch you in return. To tell them every tiny thought that popped into your head, no matter how ridiculous, because it all seemed so important, as if every second she spent with him mattered.
‘Stay there,’ he said, holding up his empty glass and kissing the end of her nose. ‘I’ll be back in a sec.’
She watched him go to the bar and lean across to order more drinks. A minute more and someone came up alongside him – an older gentleman, who placed one hand on Leo’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He too was wearing a suit, but had removed his jacket and tie. But it wasn’t his clothes that made Niamh draw breath, rather the curl of hair at his temple, dark brown and speckled with grey. Most of all, it was the slight upward tilt to his nose and the way his smile stretched clean across his face, a face that was so very similar to the person whose shoulder he had just squeezed.
‘Holy Mary, mother of God,’ Niamh muttered to herself. ‘It’s his bloody father.’ She glanced down at her clothes, tugging at the hem of her top and wishing she’d thought to wash her hair that morning.
‘What did you come dressed as?’
Niamh looked back up to see Robin approaching, wearing a double-breasted suit complete with buttonhole and bow tie. His cheeks were flushed and there was what looked like a piece of flaky pastry stuck to the side of his mouth.
‘Fuck off, Robin.’ Niamh had absolutely no desire to speak to him, not least because he seemed to be doing his best to embarrass her in their tutorials, mimicking her accent and even asking her if she believed in leprechauns when they were supposed to be discussing the Salem witch trials.
‘Leo, mate,’ Robin called over his shoulder to where Leo was still standing at the bar and Niamh flinched as she saw his dad glance in her direction. ‘You need to tell your girlfriend to calm down.’
‘Jesus, what is it with boys like you?’ Niamh moved a little to the side so Robin was standing directly between her and the bar. She could feel her emotions beginning to swirl, and wished she had time to figure out what to do with them. But with Leo’s father in such close proximity, she was finding it difficult to stay calm.
Leo had spoken to her about his father, about the expectations he was supposed to live up to. But he had also told Niamh about summers spent learning how to sail, or playing cricket on the beach being taught how to bowl a googly. Niamh could hear the love Leo had for his family. She had listened to every single one of his stories with a mixture of jealousy and awe, but the idea of actually meeting his father, of having him judge her, was enough to make her want to run and hide.
‘Sweetheart.’ Robin leered at her and she backed away from the staleness of his breath. ‘I promise you I am most definitely not a boy.’
‘No, you’re an entitled little gobshite.’ It was too much, it was all too much for her to simply stand there and be insulted again and again. So what if she didn’t act the part – or play the game as Erika put it? Even if she did, even if she put on a dress, painted her face and smiled sweetly at all those sycophantic fools, they’d never truly accept her because she didn’t come from the right stock. Like a horse to be sold at market, except to them she was nothing more than a mule.
‘Niamh.’ Leo came up alongside her, a warning note in his voice.
‘Stay out of this, Leo. You wouldn’t understand.’
‘No,’ he said, taking hold of her arm and trying to steer her further from the bar. ‘But I do understand that this really isn’t the best place for it.’
‘Why?’ She tugged herself free of him and deliberately raised her voice. ‘In case I embarrass you in front of Robin? Well, guess what? I couldn’t give a toss about how much money all your mammies and daddies have. It doesn’t make you better than me.’
Robin chortled to himself as he lit a cigarette. ‘No, but it does allow us to buy some decent clothes.’
The noise that escaped Niamh’s lips was halfway between a roar and a sob. Without stopping to think about what she was doing, or contemplating the fact she was doing it within plain sight of Leo’s father, she snatched the drink from Leo’s hand and threw it in Robin’s face.
She didn’t bother to wait for either Robin or Leo’s response as she stormed from the bar. Nor did she collect her coat from the cloakroom or tell Erika that she was leaving, although no doubt Erika would have congratulated her for finally sticking up for herself. All she knew was she had to get moving, get away from that place before she did something she would really regret.
God, Leo thought to himself as he watched her leave, she is infuriating. Seconds later he followed her out of the hotel. She was infuriating and gorgeous and brilliant, and nothing like any other girl he had ever met. Which is precisely why he had been about to introduce her to his father, but then things had spiralled out of control, although he wasn’t exactly sure why.
‘Niamh!’ he called out as he saw her dart across Magdalen Street in front of a speeding cyclist, who only just managed to avoid her.
‘Niamh!’ he called again as he waited for a city bus to pass, then sprinted across the road to catch her up.
‘Leave me alone, Leo.’ She tossed the words over her shoulder as she heard him calling out her name. She was half walking, half jogging along Broad Street with her arms wrapped around her middle in an effort to stop shivering. The season was on its hinge, just about ready to creak all the way open to winter and she cursed herself for leaving her fur coat behind.
‘What happened in there?’ he asked as he came up alongside her.
‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘Try me.’
She stopped walking, breathed out a cloud of chilled breath and stamped her feet on the ground. ‘It’s all so very easy for you, isn’t it?’ She glanced over at him, then
started walking away. ‘Private school, normal parents, loads of siblings to show you the ways of this messed-up world. I’ve been alone my entire life.’
‘OK, firstly, private school can be just as shit as anywhere else.’ His own teeth began to chatter as they waited at the kerbside for a trio of cyclists to pass. Instinctively, he reached out his hand as they crossed the road, allowing himself a small smile when she didn’t pull away.
‘I suspect you were rather good at being a teenager,’ Niamh said as he drew her close and wrapped his arm around her. She leant into him, breathing in his warmth. ‘Captain of the rugby team, good grades, popular. All the girls falling at your feet.’
‘I wasn’t actually captain.’
Niamh banged her hip against him. ‘But you did play for the firsts.’
‘I did.’
‘And you were popular.’
‘I had friends.’
‘And you got your first shag off the hottest girl in school.’
At this he couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Well . . .’
‘See,’ she said as they walked past the King’s Arms and she longed to duck inside and lose herself at the bottom of a bottle. ‘Your version of being a teenager is so very different to mine.’
‘Then tell me.’
She didn’t reply. Instead, she turned her face into his jacket and allowed him to steer her into the college lodge, around the quad and then up to his room. It was only once she had pulled on one of his jumpers and cocooned herself under a blanket on the sofa that she began to talk.
‘I was adopted.’
‘Shit.’ Leo handed her a tumbler of whiskey.
‘Not until I was ten,’ she said, taking a long sip and shaking her head as the booze hit her stomach. ‘Before which I grew up in a convent.’
He had no idea how to respond, so of course he said the first idiotic thing that popped into his head, and instantly regretted it.
‘What happened to your real mum?’
If she was irritated, she didn’t show it as she rummaged in her bag for a cigarette.
‘Then I got a scholarship to the school where Brian, my adoptive father, taught.’
‘You went to private school?’
The Love We Left Behind Page 11