Eamon was very taken aback.
“And no cutting corners, Eamon, not like the last time.”
“I didn’t cut corners!”
“You didn’t level the ground under the patio properly either. Two of the stones are very uneven already.”
Eamon scratched his head. “They weren’t uneven when I laid them.”
“They’re uneven now. And I don’t want my child going head over heels on its tricycle when I let it out to play.”
“God, no. Of course not,” Eamon said quickly.
“There could be a terrible accident.”
“There could. There could. I’m sorry about that, Emily.”
“Will you have a look at it?”
“Of course I will! Straightaway.”
“No rush,” Emily said generously. “Any time in the next few days is okay.”
“You can count on it,” Eamon said fervently. “And I’ll bring you in that estimate tomorrow, okay?”
“Just drop it by the house, Eamon,” Emily said hastily. “Whenever you’re doing the patio stones.”
Suddenly he was suspicious. “I don’t want any handouts, you know. You and Conor throwing me a bit of work out of pity.”
Emily sighed. “Do you want to do the job or not? Because I can go to Paudie Coyle instead.”
“That cowboy!” Eamon exploded. It appeared that even amongst cowboy builders, Paudie Coyle was in a league of his own. “He’d skimp on the wood so much that you’d be falling down through the cracks.”
“Kind of like my patio stones then.”
“I said I’d sort that out,” Eamon said, and stomped out.
Emily felt quite proud of herself. At least now he would lay the attic floor on time, and they wouldn’t be waiting nine months like they had for the patio. Imagine, after all these years, she had finally learned how to deal with builders.
“Oh my God!” she suddenly squealed.
Maggie looked up from her birth plan, which she had been studying in an effort to work out why she was overdue. “What? What?”
“I nearly forgot! We got the order to keep Martha’s open!”
“Oh my God!” Maggie squealed too, jumping up and down like a lunatic and clapping her hands. Emily was a bit worried that her waters might break.
“Not permanently, Maggie,” she hastily clarified. “We still have to apply for leave to seek a judicial review, and only then is the real fight on –”
Maggie didn’t care. “We won! We won!” And she went galloping out to the nurses’ station to break the news.
Emily watched the rejoicing from her bed. She knew that they all thought it was down to her, and it was in a small way. But she just wasn’t the type of person who enjoyed being in the limelight all that much. And really, she thought, there wasn’t a damned thing wrong with that either.
Neasa wore a pink, shag-me-now dress to the partners’ dinner. But she balanced it out by wearing her hair in a chic, tasteful roll and not a scrap of make-up except for lip-gloss, which she touched up now in the restaurant loo. She didn’t bother twisting this way and that in front of the mirror, searching for cellulite or unsightly bulges. She was one of those rare women who loved every single inch of her body. No, given the chance, she often thought modestly, she wouldn’t change a single thing about herself. Well, there was the naturally dull brown hair, but why whinge when the supermarkets were stacked high with black dye? And if some part of her happened to displease her some day, she would just go and get it straightened, or pumped up, or sucked out, or cut off. Cosmetic surgery easily tipped the pill as the best thing that ever happened to women in her opinion. And she wouldn’t go around spouting that nonsense about how she’d had her boobs or nose done so that she would feel better about herself, and upping her self-esteem. Hell no, forget that PC shit. It was all about sex, and bettering the odds for more sex, at the end of the day. Anybody who said otherwise was deluding herself.
Back at the table, Creepy almost did himself an injury in his enthusiasm to hold out her chair for her. On her other side, Ewan O’Reilly placed her napkin on her lap and patted her knees rather slavishly.
Opposite Neasa, Daphne Dunne picked up where she had left off five minutes ago. “A great win for you, a great win,” she repeated again, her bulbous eyes glazed from champagne.
“For us all, Daphne,” Neasa said sincerely. She felt a bit superior because she’d put away twice as much champagne as Daphne and didn’t look remotely stupid on it.
“No, credit where credit is due,” Ewan boomed. “I was just saying earlier that we don’t always show our firm’s talents to their best advantage. Crawley Dunne & O’Reilly could have a great future in litigation.”
“No, I said that, Ewan,” Daphne interjected strongly. “Why should we be stuck selling marshy land when there are people crying out to be represented in court?”
“You’ve had some interest then?” Neasa enquired.
“A bit,” Creepy said, guarded.
Regina in the office had told her that the phone had started to hop the minute the word filtered down about Neasa’s triumph. The firm was already considering two substantial actions against insurance companies, a contested will, a red-hot negligence claim and two criminal defences. Not that they would touch the criminal stuff. Criminals generally didn’t have the kind of the money that Crawley Dunne & O’Reilly would be charging.
“I believe you were on LKR fm, Ewan,” Neasa simpered. “Talking about Emily’s action.”
“Oh! That! Very embarrassing. To be honest, Neasa, I was just winging it.” He had adored every minute of it. They’d had to cut him off in the end due to time constraints.
Neasa smiled around at them all as though she loved them, and then got the boot in. “I take it we can ask Emily not to file that change of solicitor motion then?”
Daphne, Ewan and Creepy looked at each other as though they had been caught smoking behind the bike shed.
“That was a misunderstanding, Neasa,” Creepy eventually muttered.
“That’s not what she told me.”
Daphne shot Creepy a filthy look before planting her two dimpled elbows on the table and pitching forward into Neasa’s face. She tried to look confidential.
“We were worried about her taking on something like this when she’s so pregnant. That’s all.”
Neasa had a great urge to tell them they were right fuckers and that she would rather eat swill out of a trough with a crowd of pigs than dine with them tonight. But she wasn’t that drunk, and sometimes there were advantages to be gained by not always shooting her mouth off. She’d learned a lot from Terry Mitton SC this afternoon. In fact, she felt that she had matured quite a bit by the whole experience.
“Emily’s very hurt and annoyed,” she said, and this was the truth. “She refuses to withdraw her application to change solicitors.” This wasn’t true at all.
She waited now until she saw them trembling.
“In fact, she’s found a solicitor who will do it for nothing just for the publicity.”
This was a total whopper altogether.
“We can do it for nothing,” Daphne eventually said.
“We’ll waive all costs,” Ewan butted in quickly.
“She did give us six years of service,” Creepy said. As usual, everything he said to Neasa managed to sound vaguely sexual.
“But there’s Terry Mitton’s fees. And all the court fees,” Neasa said bluntly.
“They’ve offered to pay those?” Daphne closed her eyes in pain. That would put a dent in her partner’s bonus. A minor dent.
Neasa was about to give a little speech about what a fantastic cause it was, and how the community would respect them for standing up on their behalf, but rightly suspected that this would only weaken her argument with them.
The partners shifted and looked at each other in anguish. Eventually Ewan spoke.
“I think we can do that. Can we, Daphne?”
“I think so, Ewan. Do you think we can do
that, Creepy?”
“Charles. Yes, I think we can. What do you think, Neasa?”
And they all looked at her.
“Let’s do it,” she said magnanimously, and they all felt great.
“Oh, look, your glass is empty again, Neasa. I’ll order more champagne,” Daphne twittered.
They fussed and fretted and fawned over her, and she let them. It was Emily really who should be basking in the adulation. But in her absence, Neasa might as well enjoy it. And in fairness, she had spared Emily the hassle of selling her newborn to pay the legal fees.
“Now, do tell us all about your day in court,” Daphne insisted.
“Oh, do,” Creepy said, wiping away drool with his napkin.
Neasa proceeded to do so with gusto, giving herself a rather more central role than she’d actually had.
At the far end of the table – at the unfashionable end – Gary watched her give forth with a mixture of rage and jealousy. This was his dinner! His inauguration! And he was being upstaged by his own girlfriend!
Not that anybody knew she had come as his partner. He’d even been denied the chance to parade her as his appendage, the only reason he’d wanted her here in the first place. No, she had been personally invited by Creepy and the partners because of her victory in the High Court, and had come under her own steam. Not as anybody’s girlfriend. It was enough to make him puke up his wild-mushroom tartlet.
Well, he wouldn’t even shag her after this! She didn’t deserve it! And let her put around rumours about his lack of libido! He’d have sex with Annabel on the photocopier at the first opportunity and send around copies of the event over the internal email. Then everybody would know how great he was.
The partners boomed with laughter at the top of the table, and Gary’s rage and insecurity grew. She had stripped him of everything, he believed, even his masculinity! And now she was coaxing the partners down the road of litigation, when Gary was firmly a conveyancing man. If she had her way, he’d be reduced to making the coffee. Which he already did, he realised with a dull shock.
“Would sir like black pepper?” the waiter asked.
Gary looked up coldly. “Sir would like black pepper when and only when his steak arrives rare as ordered! Not burnt to a crisp!”
He had meant to sound authoritative and experienced. He just sounded loud and ignorant, and the table fell silent. It was the wrong thing to have done. Again.
“Actually, I don’t mind having well-done steak,” Neasa said casually into the void. “Why don’t we just swap plates?”
It was accomplished in ten seconds and everyone nodded in approval at her diplomacy. Gary stared at his plate, disapproval crushing him. And his steak knife and fork had gone with his steak down to Neasa, and he had none. He couldn’t bear to draw attention to himself again. He would have to eat his dinner with a spoon, like he was a child.
She had done her best to spare him embarrassment, Neasa thought a bit self-righteously. He might at least have shot her a grateful look. But then again, she wasn’t paying much attention to him. And he was staring at his plate, looking very sour and down, and nothing like the love of her life.
She felt guilty, which was most unlike her. She would probably break his heart later when she told him it was all over. He was still in love with her, that much was plain.
But what else was she to do? He was not The One. She couldn’t imagine now how she had ever thought he was The One.
Terry Mitton had asked her out. Not blatantly, there was a certain professional code to be observed. He was as gorgeous in the flesh as he’d sounded on the phone. Maybe a bit short at five-foot-nine, but she charitably decided she could overlook that. And so intelligent and cultured, and he filled his white wig wonderfully. He had hinted at lunch. She hadn’t said yes, of course. Best not look too keen. But she’d go. It was a little secret she’d been hugging to herself all evening.
Oh goody. Here came more champagne. She must take another trip to the loo first. This pink dress did not look its best on full stomachs or full bladders.
She met Gary coming out of the Men’s.
“Enjoying yourself?” she asked kindly. She would be very mature and nice about all this.
“No,” Gary said shortly.
“I know,” Neasa said sympathetically. “Daphne can really go on when she’s drunk, can’t she?”
“I wouldn’t go pointing any fingers there, Neasa, if I were you.”
Oh dear, he was going to be difficult about this. Still, she must soldier on.
“Maybe we could have a drink together later,” she said. “At my place.”
“No thanks.”
“We need to talk, Gary.”
He fixed her with a really nasty look and she was a bit surprised. “Fine,” he said. “How about nine o’clock in the morning? I’m free then.”
Neasa gave a little laugh. “Nine is a bit severe.”
“And you’ll be struggling with a hangover.”
“I should think we all will after tonight, Gary.”
“But you have more practice than most.”
What was his point here? She started to get a bit annoyed. After she had made the effort to be so civil, too! Still, she reasoned, he could probably see the writing on the wall and was desperately trying to avoid the issue. Well, Neasa was not one for avoidance, no sirree.
“I don’t think we’re all that suited, Gary,” she said bluntly.
“You’ve got that right,” Gary said, rather stunning her. “I don’t know what would keep you happy. Fucking Superman.”
He looked very vicious now and Neasa was wary. “If you feel like that, Gary, maybe we should call it a day.”
Gary stuck his big fleshy face into hers. “You got there a split second before me, babe.”
Neasa’s mouth fell open. “Don’t call me babe!”
“Why not? I can say what the hell I like now you’re not like a stone around my neck. Fuck, I feel reborn!”
Neasa looked at this foul-mouthed, sweaty, vicious creature in front of her and it finally hit her. “My God. You’re a creep.”
“I know! I’m a total creep!” Gary cried with relief. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along! But would you listen? Oh no! You thought I was Mother Teresa with sex thrown in!”
Neasa felt a bit sick. “You fooled me.”
“Yeh, well, you fooled me too.”
“I did not!” Neasa was outraged. “How have I fooled you?”
“Mind you, it took me a long time to see it,” Gary went on slowly. “Because you do it so well. You don’t even see it yourself, do you?”
Neasa felt afraid. “Go away, Gary.”
“You’re a fucking lush, Neasa.”
She laughed very loudly. “Oh Gary. Take your wounded male pride and piss off.”
Gary looked at her with a funny expression. “I’d be delighted to. I’m not looking for true love at the bottom of a bottle.”
You’d have thought Neasa would have come in this morning, Emily thought crossly. Their quick phone conversation yesterday afternoon had covered none of the juicy details of the court appearance. Neasa had rushed off to get ready for the partners’ dinner, leaving Emily to find out this morning from TheExaminer that the application for leave to seek a judicial review of the closure of Martha’s had been set for Monday week, due to the urgency of the situation. Still, it was the weekend. Neasa was probably in bed with a hangover and Gary.
“This doesn’t happen in John Grisham books,” Maggie said, cross too. Tiernan’s relatives had started ringing up in droves to see had she had the baby yet. She felt the pressure mounting on her. And not so much as a twinge.
“Yes, well, this is reality, Maggie,” Emily said tartly.
But there was a bit of a sense of anti-climax in Brenda’s Ward, and indeed, across the hospital. The euphoria of the win had gradually worn off, especially when it had sunk in that they really hadn’t won anything concrete at all. Martha’s would stay open, of co
urse, until this thing was decided. That was something, Emily supposed.
“Does this mean we’re not doing a sit-in any more?” Maggie wanted to know.
“What?”
“Well, if the hospital is staying open . . .”
“I don’t know, do I?” This constant questioning was getting on her wick.
“You’d have thought they’d have given us a bigger piece in The Examiner,” Maggie added, further peeved. They’d got four column inches on page 5. “They don’t capture any of the emotion of the thing!”
Expecting Emily Page 30