I hated to hear her talking like this. It was so defeatist and so belittling to herself. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Sophie. You’re gorgeous and any man, no matter what age, would be lucky to have you.’
‘Really, Louise?’ Her sorrow was turning to anger now. ‘No successful middle-aged man wants to date a woman his own age when he can have someone younger.’
‘That’s not true! Look at Sarkozy – he married Carla Bruni and she’s not young.’
Sophie snorted. ‘He’s fifty-nine and she’s forty-six! There’s thirteen years between them, for God’s sake.’
Damn. I’d thought they were about the same age. Sophie put her head into her hands and began crying again. ‘It’s no use, Louise. It’s just no bloody use.’
‘Tell me what happened.’
Sophie took a deep breath and launched into the story. ‘We were doing a big fashion show with Style Central last night so I went early with the models to set up and do a run-through before the show. I was really excited because I hadn’t seen Andrew in eight days. We’d been on the phone a lot and he was going to take me out for dinner after the show and then back to his apartment. He suggested I wear the sexy lingerie he’d bought me, which I did …’ Sophie’s lip wobbled. ‘I was so happy the night he gave it to me.’
She bent her head and continued, ‘He arrived looking all gorgeous. I was so happy to see him. He seemed pleased to see me too. When no one was looking he pinched my bum, and when I flashed my lacy bra strap at him, he said he couldn’t wait to get me into bed. Then Shania came out –’
Sophie’s voice tapered off. She gulped her drink and gathered herself.
‘She was wearing black leather hot pants and a sequined vest top that had a plunging front. It was one of the outfits for the show. Shania said one of the girls needed help because the zip was broken on her dress. I introduced her to Andrew as my brother’s girlfriend and I went to help the other model. I never even thought …’
Oh, God, not Shania! Seriously? She didn’t seem the type to go for an older guy. Maybe she was sick of Gavin and his lack of money or real ambition. Maybe she wanted a man with money to wine and dine her.
Sophie continued, ‘So I sorted out the problem, got the zip down and freed the model from the dress. As I rushed back out to spend more time with Andrew, I saw it.’
‘What?’
‘He was groping Shania and she was trying to get away from him. He had his hand on her bum and he was pulling her towards him. I heard her say, “I have a boyfriend, stop,” but he just laughed and said, “You need a real man,” and then she said, “But you’re with Sophie,” and he said – he said –’ Sophie began to cry again.
‘Oh, Sophie, what did the bastard say?’
‘He said, “Sophie? She’s way too needy. She’s practically stalking me. I don’t need a desperate forty-two-year-old. I’ve been married already. I’m looking for someone young and hot, not old and clingy.”’
‘How dare he?’ I raged. ‘How bloody dare he say that? What a complete arsehole!’
Sophie was sobbing again. ‘That’s exactly what Shania called him. She said, “Sophie’s great. You’re an arsehole.” She’s a decent girl, but it doesn’t change anything. Andrew’s right, I am desperate. I’ve spent almost five years trying to get myself together, be independent, work hard, be self-supporting. I’ve tried to be strong and show Jess that a woman shouldn’t depend on a man or wait around to be “minded” or “looked-after”, but underneath it all, I just want to be married again. I want a man to mind me. I want a man to look after me. I hate it, Louise. I absolutely hate being on my own.’ She broke down.
I rubbed my sister’s back and waited for her sobs to subside. I knew she found it hard being single – and that she was insecure about her looks – but I hadn’t realized how much she hated being alone. I’d always been on my own so I was used to it. I liked it. I deplored the idea of someone minding me. My independence was very precious, but Sophie and I had always been very different.
As if sensing what I was thinking, Sophie said, ‘I know you must think I’m pathetic – you’re so strong and brilliant. But I’m not. I’ve really tried, Louise, but I just can’t bear it. I’m so lonely. I never wanted this life. I want to be half of a couple. I want to be loved and cherished. I miss my old life so much. I know it’s silly and immature and all those things, but I can’t help how I feel.’
‘Now you listen to me. No one is judging you. You have done an incredible job getting back on your feet, working and looking after Jess. You should be really proud of yourself. And as for how you feel, that’s just who you are, Sophie. You’ve always loved being in a relationship. I can’t remember a time before you were married when you didn’t have a boyfriend, so it’s totally understandable that you feel lonely.’
Sophie finished her drink and banged the glass on the coffee-table. ‘I hate Jack! I hate him and his happiness. It’s not fair! He ruined everything yet he gets to be happy and have a new life and family. And I get walked all over and dumped.’
‘What did you do about Andrew, after you saw him with Shania?’ I asked.
Sophie shrugged. ‘I ran to the Ladies to throw up. When I came out, I met Quentin. He knew by my face something was up, so I told him. He said I had to pretend nothing was wrong because we so badly need the account. He’s right, we do. So I somehow pulled myself together and got through the show. It’s all a complete blur, to be honest.’
‘Did you speak to Andrew at all?’ I asked.
‘I managed to avoid him for most of the night and Quentin was great – he never left my side. But when the show was over and Andrew had obviously been rejected by Shania and God knows who else he propositioned, he decided I’d do for dinner and a shag. He came over to me and asked if I was ready to go. Quentin was squeezing my hand to give me strength, so I very calmly said I was too tired and that I needed to go home and get a good night’s sleep.’
‘Was he surprised?’
‘Shocked. He’d presumed, of course, I’d be my usual lap-dog self. But at least I held it together and didn’t ruin my business as well as my private life. Quentin is going to take over the account, so hopefully I won’t ever have to see him again.’
My little sister’s face was red and blotchy – she was so sad and forlorn. I reached over and hugged her. ‘I know it’s not much consolation now, but I’ll always be here for you and so will Julie.’
Sophie clung to me, like a little child, and muttered, ‘Thank you,’ into my shoulder.
Five minutes later we were in my bathroom and I was applying a thick layer of makeup to her face. Jess was being dropped home in twenty minutes and Sophie didn’t want her daughter to see that she’d been crying.
‘The last thing I need is Jack dropping Jess off and both of them seeing my red eyes. I need to be strong for Jess and I couldn’t bear Jack’s sympathy – it would literally push me over the edge. I don’t want his pity. More mascara, please. My hands are still shaking too much to do it.’ She smiled sadly. ‘We seem to be making a habit of this.’
‘Of what?’
‘Me crying myself stupid and you patching me up with makeup.’
‘You’re just having a rough few months. It’ll pass. You’ll see.’
I put on another layer of mascara and walked my sister to the door. ‘Good luck, and call me later. Let’s have dinner with Julie this week – you need a night out.’
‘Thanks for everything.’ Sophie kissed me and walked towards the lift, shoulders hunched, a broken woman.
21
Sophie
I don’t know how I got through the next few days. They were a complete haze of work, home, looking after Jess and crawling into bed. I obviously wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending everything was OK because on Thursday morning Jess looked up from her porridge and shouted, ‘Mum!’
‘What?’
‘I’ve asked you three times for money for my school trip.’
‘What money?’
&
nbsp; She groaned. ‘I told you last night. We’re going to some boring concert and I need ten euros for the coach.’
‘Oh, right. Where did I leave my wallet?’ I fumbled around for my bag, to no avail.
‘For God’s sake, it’s right there on the counter.’
I unzipped my wallet and asked, ‘How much did you say?’
‘Ten euros!’
I pulled out a fiver and some coins.
Jess counted them. ‘There’s eight here. Come on, Mum, it’s not hard.’
I thrust the wallet into her hand. ‘Here, you do it.’
She counted it out, zipped my wallet up and put it carefully back into my bag. She stood up and put the money into the pocket of her backpack.
With her back to me she asked quietly, ‘Did you break up with that man?’
I was going to lie, but I was too tired and weary to bother. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘I thought so. You’ve been weird all week.’
‘Have I? Sorry.’
‘Are you sad?’
‘Sad’ didn’t come close. I was devastated, humiliated, mortified, heartbroken … but my nine-and-a-half-year-old didn’t need to hear that. ‘I’m OK, just a bit tired, that’s all,’ I croaked, trying to hold it together.
She turned. ‘There’s no point crying over spilt milk,’ she said.
I smiled for the first time in days. ‘Where on earth did you hear that expression?’
‘Granny said it to me all the time when I was sad about you and Dad breaking up. She used to sit me on her knee and tell me not to cry over spilt milk.’
Good old Mum, with her sage advice. I stood up and went to give Jess a hug. She allowed me to put my arms around her, but didn’t hug me back. Oh, well, it was better than nothing.
She pulled away from me gently. ‘So, you know I’ve got Pippa’s baby shower this Friday night, right?’
I’d completely forgotten. What a ridiculous notion, having a party before your baby was born. I just didn’t get it. To me, it felt like tempting Fate. I’d been so nervous throughout my pregnancy with Jess, convinced something would go wrong. There was no way I would have allowed anyone to buy me presents before I held the baby in my arms.
Jess had been talking about it for weeks, but it had kind of gone over my head because I had been so distracted and happy. Now I’d have to listen to it.
‘Are you sure you should go, Jess? It’s probably just for Pippa’s friends.’
Jess’s face darkened. ‘I am her friend.’
‘You’re her partner’s daughter, Jess.’
Jess glared at me. ‘Pippa said I’m the most important guest because I’m the baby’s sister.’
I didn’t have the energy to argue. ‘Fine.’
‘I want to take out a hundred euros from my bank to buy a present.’
Was she insane? There was no way she was spending that kind of money on a present. She had three hundred euros saved in her account from her first communion last year. I wanted her to keep it safe. ‘That’s far too much. I’ll help you choose something after school today. It’s late-night shopping on Thursday – we can go to Mothercare or Next and find something cute. I’ll pay for it and you can say it’s from both of us.’
‘No way. I’m not buying some outfit that someone else might get her too. I want to buy her something really nice. Pippa’s so cool, I have to give her something that totally rocks.’
I looked at the clock. If I didn’t leave now, I was going to be late. I’d been late every day this week and Quentin had been very understanding, but we had a meeting at nine thirty to go over the monthly figures and I had to be on time.
I grabbed my coat and rushed Jess out of the door. ‘We’ll talk about it later,’ I said, postponing the inevitable battle that would take place that evening.
I arrived at the office at exactly nine thirty, out of breath and sweating. I plonked myself down opposite Quentin and caught my breath.
‘Coffee, darling?’ he asked.
‘Yes, please.’
‘Drop of brandy in it?’
‘I’d love it, but I’m going to say no. I’m afraid if I start to drink, I may never stop.’
He handed me a cup of coffee and kissed the top of my head. ‘My poor Sophie.’
‘I have no one to blame but myself. I behaved like a silly teenager, thinking it was love after such a short time. It was nothing but a casual fling, if it was even that. God, Quentin, when did I become this needy person? I used to be quite cool, remember, in the old days when I first started modelling and men actually did fancy me.’
‘You were the toast of the town. Every eligible man in Dublin was chasing you around.’
‘I ended up with Jack and look how that turned out,’ I said, bitterness creeping into my voice.
‘You and Jack were very happy for a long time and you have Jess. I know it ended badly, but he did adore you, Sophie.’
I put my coffee cup down. ‘I know, and I was mad about him too. But now he adores someone else, someone younger and prettier than me. And to be honest, Quentin, I think he’s more in love with her than he was with me. He absolutely worships her.’
‘It’s early days. They’re still in the honeymoon period. Wait until the baby arrives and he has to get up in the middle of the night. He won’t be so smug then, and Miss Pippa won’t be looking so good with leaky breasts and no sleep.’
I loved Quentin. He always made me feel better. I savoured the image of Pippa with unkempt hair, milk-stained clothes and black shadows under her eyes.
‘I met Andrew last night for a drink. He wants to know why you’re off the account,’ Quentin said.
My stomach turned at the mention of Andrew’s name. ‘What did you say?’
‘I told him you had some personal matters to attend to and that you were taking a step back for a little bit. I had to say something that sounded viable because we need the account, darling, you know that.’
‘That’s fine, very nicely put. What did he say?’
Quentin pushed his coffee cup to the side. ‘He said he was sorry to hear that because you were excellent at your job.’
I was hurt that he hadn’t even asked how I was. ‘He hasn’t bothered to call, or even text. He obviously never gave a damn about me. Why was I such a fool?’
‘Lonely people are vulnerable. I know it myself. The last young man I had back to the house robbed my watch on his way out. It’s not easy to find nice partners.’
‘Quentin, that’s awful.’
‘I know, darling, but a lonely old queen like me is an easy target. If only we could marry each other.’
‘Do you think I’ll ever meet someone? Be honest,’ I urged.
‘Honestly? I think you will because you’re gorgeous and lovely, but it’s hard out there.’
‘The problem is that unless I go for much older men, I’m competing with women half my age. I don’t find sixty-year-olds attractive. I like men my own age, but they like much younger women. Look at Jack, for God’s sake. No single man in his forties wants to be with a woman in her forties. It’s just not fair – it’s a man’s world!’
‘No, it’s a heterosexual man’s world,’ Quentin corrected me. ‘The only reason a younger man would go for me is for money. It’s dog-eat-dog for us older gay men too.’
I patted his hand. ‘I think you’re a great catch.’
‘Ditto. Now, what else is new?’
‘Jess wants to spend a hundred euros on a baby-shower present for Pippa.’
Quentin raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. ‘I presume you said no.’
‘Obviously, but she went mad, so I said we’d talk about it later. She’s so enamoured of Pippa it’s … well, frankly, really irritating. She wouldn’t spend even ten euros on a present for me and yet she wants to take out a huge chunk of her savings for Pippa. It just pisses me off. I know I should be mature and understanding and not take it personally, but I’m feeling very raw and I am taking it personally.’
Quentin poure
d us both more coffee. ‘Darling, the novelty will wear off. Pippa is like a big sister or a cool aunt to Jess. But, I guarantee, the minute that baby is born, Jess will find herself pushed aside and you’ll need to be there for her when it happens.’
In a horrible way, I hoped Quentin was right. I was shocked that I was wishing for Jess to be hurt, but I wanted her to see through Pippa. I wanted her to come back to me, to appreciate me, to want to be with me. I missed my little girl. She never wanted to spend time with me. She just counted the days until she could be with Pippa and Jack and it really hurt. Between my daughter and Andrew, I felt I wasn’t good enough for anyone.
I sipped my coffee and tried not to feel sorry for myself. Life had not turned out the way I had planned. What would happen to me? Would I end up alone for the rest of my days? The thought terrified me. ‘I have to do something, Quentin. I cannot spend the next forty years on my own.’
‘Andrew was just a bad experience. Don’t panic,’ Quentin said. ‘There are plenty more fish in the sea.’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘Don’t lie.’
‘OK. There are some other fish.’
‘Would you date someone your own age?’
Quentin flinched. ‘It depends what he looked like. I usually go for younger men, but if the guy was very fit and had a nice face, then maybe.’
‘Liar! There is no way you’d go out with a sixty-year-old and you know it.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s unlikely, unless he looked like George Clooney.’
I twisted my bracelet around my wrist. ‘This whole Andrew thing has made me really look at myself. I know I want to meet someone – under fifty. I don’t want to be on my own any more. Meeting Andrew made me see how lonely I am. So I’ve decided to be proactive and do something to make myself more attractive. I’m going to get my boobs done.’
Quentin wasn’t remotely shocked, as I’d known he wouldn’t be. He’d seen it all during his years in the modelling industry. I knew I could trust him. ‘It’s a serious procedure, Sophie. You have to be sure.’
The Secrets Sisters Keep: A heartwarming, funny and emotional novel (The Devlin Sisters Book 2) Page 20