by Melissa Hill
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ms Fallon, but we’re completely booked for weddings almost up to the end of January.”
“January?” Chloe’s mind began to race overtime. A winter wedding. OK, she might have to rethink the dress, and instead of a veil possibly go for one of those Snow Queen cape-type thingys, but that wouldn’t be a problem. The flower arrangements would have to change, of course; orchids would die a quick death in January, but just imagine a winter bouquet with berries, and ivy and frosted apples and things!
“January would be perfect,” she announced happily.
“Chloe, hold on a second.” Dan pulled her to one side, out of the manager’s earshot.
“We should discuss this – what about all the arrangements?”
“What’s to discuss?” Chloe spoke quickly. “We can wait a little longer to get married, can’t we? I mean, we’re practically married as it is, and I’m sure everything else can be put off until a later date, the flowers, the photographer and all that.”
She was having visions of a snow-decked church as background to her wedding photos. And if there was no snow, Chloe was sure they could organise some fake stuff for the photographs – the church was only down the road from RTE, after all. Oh, it would be gorgeous. And much more unique than any old run-of-the-mill, summer wedding. She didn’t know why she didn’t think of it before. OK, it was disappointing to have wait that bit longer, but at least she wouldn’t have to spend her wedding night in some grotty hotel.
Dan nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I have no problem waiting, but are you absolutely sure you don’t want to try somewhere else?”
“I want our reception in this hotel, Dan. If I have to wait a little longer, so be it, and it’s certainly better than having to wait a year.”
They’d have to check with the priest, but it was unlikely to be a problem, especially in January. The honeymoon would need to be rethought – they didn’t want to be in the Thailand for the rainy season. Still, there was always the Caribbean. The only problem was …
“We’ll have to get the wedding invitations reprinted,” she said wearily, although she’d be damned if she’d give that designer one the satisfaction of knowing that something had to be changed. She remembered how condescending Debbie had been on her visit to the Amazing Days store. “You just never know.” Now her words were coming back to haunt Chloe.
“Well, if you’re sure.” Dan turned to the manager. “If you could accommodate us in January, we’d be very grateful.”
The hotel manager smiled and spread the diary out in front of him. “Let me see . . . we have Friday 13th ?”
Chloe looked horrified. “I really don’t think so.”
Turning the page, the manager tried to hide a grin. “Perhaps the following Friday?”
“That would be great.” Chloe’s heart soared as she watched him enter their names in a space beside Friday 20th January, next year.
A winter wedding. It would be just perfect.
In the meantime, though, they had to withdraw the blasted invites to this year’s wedding.
Now Chloe looked over at Dan, who was busily engrossed in his newspaper. Even though he was as disappointed as she had been with their wedding being delayed, she still got the feeling that his mind was continually elsewhere. She wondered if he had ever got round to contacting that Nicola. With this latest uproar, she herself had forgotten all about his troublesome ex.
“Dan?”
“Hmm?” he answered idly.
“Remember you said you were going to contact your ex – about your getting married again, and all that?”
He stiffened, and Chloe instantly knew that he had already been in contact with her. Why hadn’t he said anything?
“I spoke to her last week,” he said. “She’s fine about it.”
Chloe was instantly annoyed by this. Why shouldn’t she be fine about it? And so what if she wasn’t?
“Did her friend – you know, the one with our invites, did she tell her about us?”
He nodded. “It didn’t seem to bother her, though – in fact she wished us well. I showed her a photograph of you, she thought you looked gorg – ”
“What?” Chloe interjected, before he could finish the sentence. “You met with her – face to face?”
Dan reddened, and she knew then that he had let that last comment slip out inadvertently. He hadn’t planned on telling her about his little rendezvous with Nicola at all. Instantly, Chloe felt her hackles rise.
“Yes, I was going to tell you but – ”
“Well, why didn’t you then?”
“Because I knew you’d react like this – that’s why.” Dan’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I knew you’d try and make something of it.”
“Well, would you blame me?” Chloe stood up. “When you’re sneaking around behind my back, having secret meetings with your ex-wife.”
“I wasn’t sneaking around, it wasn’t like that. It was tense on the phone, and to break the ice I asked her to meet me sometime for coffee. Then she rang me one day last week and – ”
“And of course you had to up and meet her, just like that, and without a second thought about my feelings. What is it, Dan? She says jump and you say ‘hold on ‘til get my trampoline’?”
“Of course not. Look, Chloe I told you that I felt bad about not telling her personally about us and – ”
“Yes, but you said you’d phone her. You certainly didn’t tell me you’d be having cosy dates with her.”
“Oh, please.” Dan put a hand to his head. “I’m not able for this anymore, Chloe, really I’m not.”
“Oh, well, s-o-r-r-y. But don’t you think that as your future wife, I deserve to know about these secret meetings with your ex-wife? What’s going on, Dan? Why do I feel that you’re not telling me everything here?”
“Chloe, can you please just give it a rest – for once.” Dan stood up, infuriated.
“For once? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Anyway, what do you expect me to think?”
“There’s nothing to think. All I was trying to do give was treat my wife – my ex-wife – with a little bit of respect. It’s the very least she deserves.”
“What’s that supposed to … where are you going?” Her tone dropped a level, seeing him head for the door.
“Out,” he said. “Where I don’t have to listen to this.” With that, Dan grabbed his jacket, walked out the door and slammed it loudly behind him.
Chloe stared after him, her thoughts running a race alongside her heartbeat. She sank down in her seat, and with more than a little trepidation, recalled Dan’s words. It’s the very least she deserves.
Right, that was it, Chloe thought, angrily throwing aside the guest list. Seeing as Dan seemed to have no problems with sneaking around behind her back, why shouldn’t she do the same? John O’Leary had given her something to go on, and with a little persuasion, she might just be able to find someone who would go that bit further, and know that much more about Dan and Nicola’s relationship.
Now that she had more time on her hands, Chloe was going to do a little digging around, and she wouldn’t stop until she got to the bottom of this – once and for all.
38
Dan drove furiously down the Stillorgan dual carriageway.
Damn. Why had he let that slip? Chloe would never shut up about it now, and heaven knows she was a nightmare once she had something to complain about.
So unlike Nicola really, he thought, turning onto the coast road. In fact, the two of them couldn’t have been more different. Nicola had always been most pragmatic and level-headed about things, whereas Chloe would fly off the handle at nothing. Not that Nic would hide from a confrontation either, he thought with a wry smile. Indeed, quite the opposite. But she didn’t get her knickers in a twist over things like … well, like the colour of her knickers, and whether or not you could see it through her trousers, or if it went with this dress, or these boots or….
Dan found himself tuni
ng out during Chloe rants about her clothes, her shoes, and lately, about this bloody wedding. He was sorry in a way that it had had to be put off, because now he’d have to put up with another five months odd of planning – not just the Perfect Wedding – but the Perfect Winter Wedding. She was already talking about dressing the men up in some kind of Russian-themed get-up, complete with furry hats and high leather boots. His father would certainly love that.
He knew that most women went a little bit batty over their Big Day, but was only realising now how lucky he had been the first time round. Wedding trivia had never bothered Nicola, and she was quite happy with their cosy, intimate wedding in Vegas.
In fact, Dan thought, there was very little that could bother his first wife.
He stopped in the carpark overlooking Sandymount Strand. Despite himself, he was thinking about Nicola more and more these days, and a lot more than he should be. He was getting married in a few months, for goodness sake. But yet, since meeting her last week in Bray, he just couldn’t stop thinking about her.
She had been so calm and so together. He had expected the worst – anger, admonishment, bitterness – something after all that time. But Nicola seemed fine; she seemed strong, calm and amazingly, she seemed … happy. Dan wasn’t sure what he had expected, but he certainly hadn’t expected that.
She looked beautiful too, he thought wistfully. No amount of physical change could dampen that spirited, determined glint in her eye, the very thing that had attracted him to her in the first place. Nicola had always been strong-willed; whatever had made him think that she would fall to pieces? Dan smiled wistfully, remembering their very first encounter in O’Connell St that time.
Yes, she had always been the strong, forceful one in their marriage, always able to handle anything that was thrown at her, never letting anything faze her. Dan looked out to sea.
Except for that one time of course.
39
They were almost a year married at the time. Nicola was losing it, and Dan didn’t know how to help her. It was like as if he didn’t know who she was anymore. What had happened to his wonderful, sunny, carefree wife?
Well, of course Dan knew what had happened. It had been a tragedy, and a devastating disappointment to both of them. But however much they wanted that baby, and however much it hurt, there was absolutely nothing they could do to bring it back. The miscarriage had happened. There was no reason, no explanation, it just happened. Dan could see it, could partly understand it, so why couldn’t he help Nicola see it?
“Time will heal,” they all said, doctors, nurses, Laura, her mother.
So each day Dan would come home from work, hoping for some improvement, some tiny glimpse of the old Nicola but no, she’d still be sitting listlessly in front of the TV, not having bothered to get dressed, barely having bothered to get out of bed.
Dan knew she was grieving but he also thought she blamed him. He should have looked after her better, or should have at least realised that something was wrong. But could he be – had he been at fault? Dan didn’t think so. These things did happen.
Eventually as the days went by, Nicola seemed to at least come out from under her blanket of fog, and start becoming human again. After almost two weeks she got up, got dressed, went back to work, and went about her day to day business just as before.
Except she wasn’t the same Nicola. She was this faraway, preoccupied Nicola, and Dan didn’t recognise her anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time they had had a conversation that lasted longer than two sentences, and it was never about anything other than trivialities. She got on with her life as though he didn’t exist.
It hurt. It hurt desperately. He was losing her, and he didn’t know how to prevent it. After a while, it became almost impossible to stay in the same room with her evening after evening, and be unable to share, to talk, to laugh like they once did.
So Dan found that he began to avoid spending time with her. It started out subconsciously; he would stay late working on a set of accounts that needed to be ready for sign-off before Friday. And he told John that yes, of course they could take on more clients, even though the practice had already been more successful than either had anticipated, and their respective offices were already overburdened.
And eventually it was easier that way. Dan could live with himself. He could live with himself because he didn’t have to see the pain and disappointment in his wife’s eyes every time he looked at her, and he thought that maybe if he stayed away long enough, then one day the old Nicola would return.
One evening, Dan was sitting in his office staring at the computer screen, and thinking about all that he was about to lose, or worse, about what had already been lost.
“Dan?”
He jumped.
Someone popped a head around the door of his office. “What are you still doing here?”
Dan caught his breath. “Shannon, you scared the living daylights out of me. I didn’t think there was anybody else here. I’m working on – on the P35 for Manning Packaging.” He picked up the first company file that came to hand. John had recently taken on Shannon to act as PA, hoping that an extra person would help them deal with the workload.
“At eight o’clock?” she frowned. “Dan, don’t you think you should be heading home soon?”
“I just have a few small things to finish up, then I’ll go. What about you? It’s not like you to be working late.”
“I wasn’t, actually. I left earlier but I forgot my mobile, so I came all the way back to get it.” She gave him a mischievous look. “I’m expecting an important call tonight.”
Dan grinned back. “Oh? Do I know about this one?” Shannon always had some man on the go – be it past, present or future.
“No. He’s new on the scene,” she said coquettishly. “I met him at the weekend. He’s nice, seems like my type.”
“Nice? That definitely doesn’t sound like your type.” Dan laughed for what seemed like the first time in ages.
“Oh, well. I’ll see how it goes, anyway.” Shannon went back towards the doorway. Then she paused. “Dan, is everything OK?”
He stiffened. “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Look, I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you look awful.”
“Thanks a bunch.”
“No, I don’t mean …” She floundered. “Look, I just wondered how things were going – at home, I mean. You haven’t said much and, well, we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it.”
Dan looked at her. Shannon knew about the miscarriage, everyone here did. Should he confide in her his fears about Nicola? He needed to confide in someone, but it almost felt like a betrayal. Especially as Nicola and Shannon had never seemed to get on all that well and as a result Dan had consciously cooled his friendship with her. Yet they were still friends and before Nicola they had been very close. He threw down his pen. Feck it, he needed to talk to someone, otherwise he’d crack up soon.
“Things are a little … delicate,” he offered eventually.
Shannon gave him a compassionate look. “It’s understandable, you know. I’m sure losing a much-wanted baby wasn’t easy for her.”
“It wasn’t easy for me either, but nobody seems to understand, or even consider that.”
Shannon nodded, then looked at her watch. “Look, you need to get out of here. Let’s go next door for a pint, and we can have a good long chat.” She gave him a winning smile.
Dan thought that sounded great. “Are you sure? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
She shook her head. “Not really. If lover-boy rings, I can talk to him from there. Go on, get your things.”
“Great.” Dan looked relieved.
As he shut down his computer and collected his briefcase, he discovered he was feeling better already. This was exactly what he needed. A cosy pub, a decent pint of plain and a good listener.
As Dan followed her out to the hallway and locked the office door behind them, Shannon looked across and
flashed him an inviting smile.
40
“Good afternoon, Laura Connolly Design?” Laura closed her eyes in silent prayer. Please, please, let it be that man calling back – the one who was looking for the engagement ring that time.
Three weeks later it was highly unlikely. That day, having returned from collecting Kerry, she had waited and waited for him to phone back, but no call had been forthcoming. The disappointment had been almost unbearable, as was the fact that there was no chance of piecing together his name, or his mobile number.
Still, Helen had been so grateful for the favour, and when she came to collect her daughter that same evening she had presented Laura with the most gorgeous bottle of designer perfume for her trouble. But the favour turned out to be longer-lived than Laura had expected. Since then, she had collected Kerry from playschool nearly three nights out of five in the last few weeks and again this afternoon.
“Hello?” she repeated, when there was no reply.
A short pause at the other end. “Um, hello? Is that Laura?”
“Yes, it is. Who’s speaking please?”
“Laura, how are you, pet? Kathleen Brennan here.”
“Oh, hello, Kathleen, how are you?”
Kathleen Brennan, Laura thought. Kathleen Brennan from Glengarrah. Was it possible – could it be that Kathleen was looking to buy something from her? Perhaps her mother had been telling people about the business, after all. Why else would the village busybody be phoning her?
“Well, it’s like this, Laura,” Kathleen began, as if reading her thoughts, “your mother told me all about how you’re working for yourself these days.”
Brilliant! Laura thought. Maureen had come through for her, after all. Now what would Kathleen be looking for, a brooch to wear at Mass on Sunday, or maybe a present for her husband? She could do a gorgeous set of cufflinks that would suit Cornelius Brennan, something simple but very elegant, something he’d love …