“I told him not to go back there,” Rachel says. “I’m not sure I trust that man very much.”
“Conor is my friend – he’s the only one who understands. I hate you!” he says, staring Rachel straight in the eye.
Jack goes up the stairs to his room.
“I don’t like Jack going down to that place – God only knows what that fella’s up to,” Tina says when they are on their own.
“I would have to agree with you, Tina, I don’t think it’s appropriate. I’m going to check with the Guards to see if they’ve ever come across him before. I had a word with Jack anyway so hopefully that will be the end of the matter. So how’s he been doing this week?”
“As you can see yourself, he’s up and down. He was very upset after.”
“Did you try and talk to him about who he would like to live with afterwards?”
“No, I didn’t. Not yet, he’s not in the right place yet.”
“Okay, well, it’s probably best to do it soon, yeah? It’s very important that we have Jack’s point of view taken into consideration as well.”
“I know,” she sighs. “I know.”
Chapter 43
Switching on the computer, Conor looks around, running his eyes over his dark-wood shelves heaving with books that never seem to move. The bargain bins are where most of his sales seem to be coming from lately. He opens his diary to see what he needs to do today and scans down through the list. First off he needs to box up some returns to send them back to the wholesaler. He also needs to send an apologetic email to a children’s author that he had asked to come along to do a reading instore on Saturday, except no children had turned up. The author had been very understanding and apologised to him for not being enough of a draw but he had been so embarrassed. It seemed like everything he did in an attempt to drum up business ultimately proved unsuccessful.
After he is finished the returns, the bell rings and he looks up from where he is writing up some new ‘recommended reading’ shelf-talkers. It has been a while since the three terrorists have set foot near him or his shop. He hasn’t even seen them hanging around on the street outside. Can he dare hope that he has finally managed to scare them off?
The door opens and it is Mrs Morton, a little old lady who lives in the terrace behind the shop. She always wears a brown rain mac and a paisley-patterned headscarf knotted beneath her chin. She usually comes in once a week for a chat and sometimes, if she has money left over from her pension, she buys herself a book as a treat.
“Good morning, Conor, how are you today?” She makes her way unsteadily over to the till.
“I’m good, thanks, Mrs Morton, how are you keeping yourself?”
“I’m okay, dear. I was in with Doctor Maguire earlier on with my chest again.” She leans in over the counter to him.
“Have you still not managed to shake off that infection?”
“Well, hopefully, the prescription that he gave me will help fight it off now.”
“I hope so too – that’s a nasty one you got.”
“I was doing some baking and I said I’d drop you in a few, love.”
“Ah, you shouldn’t have!”
“Sure who’s going to be eating them now, aren’t all of mine gone? I keep meaning to make less because they just go to waste these days but I guess old habits die hard,” she says sadly.
“How are Donal and the kids getting on?” Donal, her only child, his wife and their three children, like a lot of Irish families, had recently had to emigrate to Melbourne, Australia, in search of work. The newspapers often ran features on families just like them under the headline ‘Generation Emigration’.
“They’re getting on all right. Donal has found a job now, thank God. I was very worried about them there for a while. And the kids are settling well into their new school so that’s a relief, but I miss them a lot. My eldest grandson, Nathan, he gave me his old computer and set me up with that Skype thing before they left. He showed me how to use it and all, but I can’t be doing that at my age. It will never make up for having them across the road from me.”
“No, I suppose it must be very hard on you.”
“That shower in the Dáil have a lot to answer for. They ruined this country, so they did! Splitting up families, sending them to the other side of the world to work. We’re almost gone back to the famine days again, so we are!”
“It’s not easy, is it? This came in the other day and I thought you might like it so I kept a copy aside for you.” He hands her a romance novel.
“Ah, God bless you, Conor, but I haven’t collected my pension yet this week.”
“Nonsense, don’t worry about that. Have a read and sure you can drop it back to me whenever you’re finished with it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’ll never get this shop to survive if you keep giving me free books, y’know!” she chides.
“Ah, but you’re one of my best customers, Mrs M.”
“Well, thank you, dear, you’re too good. I love the romances. I’ll look forward to starting this with a nice cup of tea later.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Was that young Jack White I saw coming out of here the other day?”
“It probably was – he often comes in for a while after school to read the books.”
“Ah, bless him. He’s a clever lad by all accounts. His mother is very sick though, God love him. She hasn’t long left. That cancer is a terrible thing – that’s what took my Vincent from me! You’d think they’d have a cure for it at this stage. If only all the mothers around here were like Tina White. She may have been wild when she was younger but she has done a great job with him. She used to be mad for the drink and the drugs, but then when she found out she was pregnant, she copped herself on and got clean. When Jack was born she got a job in the community centre running a mother and toddler group. It was perfect because she could bring Jack with her. Then, when Jack started school, she set up a breakfast club for the local kids to make sure they never went to school hungry and an after-school club to help them do their homework. She loves that boy more than life itself and he idolises her. That’s what makes this all so sad because as soon as she knew she was expecting him, she did her best for him. It’s such a shame what is coming down the tracks for them though.” She leans in and puts her aged hand with its brown liver spots over his on the counter. It feels cold and frail on his. “But as you and I know only too well, Conor, life isn’t fair.”
“No, it’s not.”
“So how are you doing yourself?”
“I’m okay. I’m trying to keep busy, y’know?”
“I do, love. Unfortunately I know it only too well. When my Vincent passed on everyone was telling me that it would get easier in time but it’s a lie because he’s twenty-two years dead this June and it hasn’t. I think you just learn to accept it a bit more.”
He nods. “I think you’re probably right. Thanks, Mrs M.”
When she is finished she says her goodbyes and he watches as her petite figure leaves the shop.
Chapter 44
Two weeks later Rachel takes a deep breath and dials Marcus’s number. He answers on the third ring.
“Rachel? How are you?” She can hear the excited shock in his voice.
“Alex called.”
“Oh no,” he groans. “I didn’t think she’d do that.”
“You knew she was going to?”
“Yeah, she said she wanted you to come to her graduation but you don’t have to go – you can just make up an excuse,” he says quickly.
“Really? Does she know that we’ve broken up?”
“Yes, but I think it’s part of her grand scheme to get us back together. I think she’s worried about me, to be honest. It’s fairly pathetic when your twenty-two-year-old daughter feels the need to sort out your love life, isn’t it?”
“Well, if it’s important to her, then I’d like to go.”
“Are you sure?”
> “Yeah, I want to.”
“Okay, well, do you want me to pick you up?”
“Well, maybe I should just meet you there, y’know . . . ”
“Of course . . . ”
“It’s for the best, Marcus.”
That Saturday she pauses at the formidable circular columns fronting the Aula Maxima, where Alex has told her that the graduation ceremony is being held, and takes a deep breath. She makes her way in along the rows of seating and eventually spots Marcus and Jules waving her over. Her heart flips over in her chest when she sees him again. She feels that same acute sadness, the one she felt for weeks after they broke up, flood through her again. She takes a deep breath to gather herself before walking over to them. She slots into a seat beside Eli and greets everyone. They chat briefly until a hush falls on the hall as the robed procession of academic staff take their seats at the front of the room. One by one students are clapped and cheered as they are presented with their scrolls. When it is Alex’s turn, Rachel claps as loudly as the rest of her family do.
After the ceremony they head for lunch to the restaurant that Jules has booked for them. She is longing to be near to him but instead Alex sits down beside her at the table and she doesn’t have the heart to move. Marcus ends up seated at the other end of the table beside Brian. They catch each other’s eye several times over the course of the meal and the same feelings for him stir up inside her once again. The baby starts to get tetchy soon after dessert so Jules and Brian head off as soon as the bill is settled. Eli and Alex are heading out with their friends, leaving Marcus and Rachel alone together. They finish off the wine before walking outside onto the street.
“Thanks for coming, Rach, I know it probably wasn’t easy being here today but it meant a lot to Alex – to me as well actually. It’s been lovely to have you here.”
She loves how the sun falls on his face and lights it up, she loves how his sandy hair is always slightly tousled but it’s his smile that always draws her in. Wide and warm, when he smiles it spreads up into his hazel eyes with their bright flecks of green. She’s missed it.
“Well, I had a lovely day. I suppose I’d, eh . . . better . . . go.”
“Do you have to? Don’t go yet – please – I’ve barely talked to you all day. How about we go for a drink for old time’s sake?”
She knows she should just say no – she can hear Shirley’s sensible voice telling her ‘Don’t do it, Rachel, don’t do it. Just rip off that plaster for once and for all. It’ll be a sharp pain for a moment but it’ll hurt less in the long run’.She should get into her car and end this now but instead she finds herself saying “Why not?”
“So how’ve you been?” she asks after they sit down into the cosy snug.
“Okay . . . yeah . . . keeping busy. I finally managed to buy Francine’s.”
“I saw that you were buying it in the paper. Congratulations! Marcus Traynor goes international!”
“So how have you been?”
“I’m good . . . y’know . . . lots of caseloads on at the moment.”
“That’s what I love about you, Rach – you’re such a good-bones. You’re always so busy caring about everyone else . . . I’ve really missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
Suddenly he leans forward and his mouth covers hers. She wants him so badly. Now. The urgency is overwhelming. They get up from the table, leaving their drinks behind and go out into the brightness of the daylight. Marcus flags a taxi and they both jump inside. He goes to give his address but she interjects and tells the taxi to go to her place – she lives closer. The air between them is charged with tension – it is palpable. They practically race out of the car and up the steps of her duplex. She opens the door and closes it quickly behind them.
It is all so familiar as his tongue explores her mouth. His hand is moving over her bust, before it makes its way downwards and under the hem of her dress. She can feel his erection pressing against her. She knows exactly what comes next. She knows she shouldn’t do it but she can’t help it. The worst thing she could possibly do is invite him back into her life again but she can’t face being on her own tonight. Just for tonight she longs for the touch of someone familiar, someone who will hold her in his arms and take care of her. On a day like today she longs for the familiarity of someone who knows her. She needs to feel his fingertips on her body, breathe in his scent, which is a mixture of aftershave and manliness, taste the saltiness of the light perspiration on his skin. She doesn’t care about everything else that has gone on between them – for tonight she just wants intimacy with someone. One hand is moving through her hair, caressing the sensitive skin at the base of her neck. He starts kissing along her décolletage and down along the mound of her breasts. Tingles race through her body. He unzips her dress and it falls around her feet on the floor. “These are new.” He looks admiringly at the midnight-blue satin lingerie with black lace trim. He is pushing down her bra straps and unfastening the clasp at the back to release her breasts. He runs his fingers over the skin in slow, tantalising circles, before moving in light strokes down her abdomen. He teases and moves his hand upwards again. Finally it goes down between her thighs and he finds the band in her knickers and goes inside before pulling them off down her legs.
She starts undressing him. He kicks off his shoes and they fall back onto the sofa.
He slips inside her and everything about him is familiar. They move together, his thrusts getting stronger until he groans in climax and her body contracts in waves.
They lie beside each other panting. He is stroking the skin of her shoulder.
“I’ve really missed you.” He brings her in closer towards him. “It’s been awful without you, Rachel.”
“I’ve missed you too, Marcus.”
“Being with you here today – it’s like we’ve never been apart –”
“That’s what makes it worse.”
The ferocity of their earlier passion has now ebbed away leaving Rachel with a feeling closer to deflation. Her head is resting in the crook of his arm and he is running his fingers lightly over the skin on her shoulder.
“So what happens now?” Marcus asks eventually.
“I don’t know but we’re right back where we were and we both know how it ends.”
Chapter 45
Ella is standing in the small corner shop, which smells of old linoleum and sweets. She promised the girls a treat. They are busy trying to decide whether to have crisps or chocolate. She takes a two-litre carton of milk from the fridge and walks over to the counter to pay.
“Girls, are you ready?”
They are agonising over their choices. They make up their minds, then change at the last minute and put the bars down and pick something else.
“Come on, it’s hardly a life or death decision whether you pick a Twirl or an Aero!”
The shop man is elderly and smiles at the girls, showing perfectly even dentures. “It’s hard to choose, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” they giggle.
“Well, take your time – it’s important to get it right.” He smiles with twinkling blue eyes. “I would hate for you two to go away from here and feel you had made the wrong choice.”
Ella imagines he’s a grandfather.
She glances over at the newsstand while they dither and a photo of herself catches her eye. It was taken at the National Broadcasting Awards around this time last year – she had been pregnant with Maisie at the time. She reads the headline beside it: “TV Presenter Faces June Court Date for Theft Case.” She picks up the newspaper and reads the text underneath: ‘Disgraced TV Presenter Ella Wilde faces sentencing for the shoplifting of a designer bracelet valued at €35,000. Wilde (39), who earned a six-figure salary presenting Channel 2’s The Evening Reviewwas axed from her job following the theft . . .’ She puts the paper back down on the stand again.
“Girls, are you ready? Come on, I’m sure the man hasn’t got all day now.”
“Ah sure, there’s n
o rush on them! It’s turned into a grand day out there now.”
“It has, it’s lovely.”
Celeste finally picks a Galaxy Caramel while Dot opts for a plastic Hello Kitty container which Ella knows will be full of neon-coloured balls of sugar.
The girls hand him their sweets and she hands him the milk. He puts on his glasses, which hang from a string around his neck and peers down at the price stickers before punching in the prices on his cash register.
“That’ll be €4.19, please.”
Ella roots in her pocket and takes out a ten-euro note and gives it to him. He opens the till to put in her money. The girls are busy opening the wrappers of their sweets. No one is looking at her. She picks up a packet of polo mints and feels their weighty drop as they land inside the pocket of her leather jacket.
“There you are now and five and fifty, twenty, ten and one.” He is counting out her change. He places the five-euro note in her hand and piles the coins on top of it. “Five eighty-one back. See you now, enjoy your treats, girls.”
Into the Night Sky Page 22