They started seeing each other and before long Laura knew without the shadow of a doubt that Doug Donnelly was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. This had come as rather a shock to her. It certainly wasn’t what she had planned. Falling in love had not figured in her plans at all but until then she had never met a man like Doug. For the first few months of their relationship, she told him she could meet him just once a week. Her finals were coming up and she was working like a Trojan at her revision. Doug accepted her decision with no argument. He quite understood how important it was for her to get a first in her exams. He knew what it was like to want to be the best at something even though it might cause blood, sweat and tears. He could understand Laura’s ambition; it wasn’t so different from his own. It was this empathy that really drew her to him and the night her results came out and her dream of a first-class honours law degree came true, he bought a bottle of champagne and later in his apartment they made love for the first time.
Doug was a tender, passionate lover but Laura’s deep-seated desire to be in control, as a result of her hostility towards her father, caused her immense problems with her sexuality. She could never let herself go completely and enjoy their lovemaking. That would be giving too much control to Doug.
After meeting her father and seeing at first hand the destructive anger of their relationship, Doug understood what the problem was. He knew that he had a very difficult task ahead, one that required a lot of tact, sensitivity and patience. All he could do was his best.
It had been a revelation to Laura that a man could show such tenderness to a woman. It was the first time she had ever experienced it in her own life. She had watched the way her father treated her mother and until she started growing up had thought it was the norm. Her relationship with her father had made her cynical about men, apart from Cassie’s father, Jack, whom she had adored. She associated men with power and by not getting involved with them she felt she was keeping control of her own life. Watching Cassie and Aileen enjoying the company of their lovers had sometimes left Laura feeling empty and unfulfilled but she had buried these feelings and concentrated on achieving her ambitions. Only once, the time they had been on holidays in Rhodes and Aileen had touched a sensitive nerve during their row, had those feelings erupted and got the better of her. Those awful unbearable feelings of inadequacy, those feelings that somehow she was different to other women. Was she, Laura Quinn, held in high esteem by her peers, afraid of sex?
To prove that she wasn’t, she had slept with Costas, the Greek waiter. But really it hadn’t proved anything. It was just a two-night fling, something that she initiated, and then she had never seen him again. She remembered now that she had even risked getting pregnant. She must have been crazy!
When Doug asked to see her again, she was scared, really scared. Not only was she afraid of sex, she was afraid of getting involved in a relationship with a man in case it threatened her most prized possession, her control. But being the gutsy pragmatist that she was, Laura sat herself down and gave herself a good talking-to. Was she content to lead half a life? Miss out on all the joys a good relationship could bring? She had seen how happy Robbie and Cassie were. She had also seen how unhappy Cassie was when Robbie went on his benders. But that was part of it all, the swings and roundabouts. After her first meeting with Doug, Laura had known instinctively that he could end up playing a major role in her life if she were prepared to take the risk. Never one to back down on a challenge, Laura had taken a deep breath and got on with it.
Not for a minute had she regretted getting involved with Doug. He had encouraged her as she set out on the trail of a job, had listened as she moaned how hard it was to be taken on as an apprentice by a good firm. She suspected also, although nothing was ever said directly, that her being a woman was no advantage to her. Doug just nodded and agreed and then made her type out a brand new CV, got twenty photocopies made and instructed her to get going to deliver them to all the major practices in the city. Laura had got a copy of the Law Directory, which contained the names and addresses of the practices, from the Incorporated Law Society in Blackhall Place.
She secured an apprenticeship in William Bennett Solicitors, one of the most prestigious offices in the country, and Doug told her firmly, ‘It’s no less than you deserve.’
When Doug asked her to move into his Donnybrook apartment Laura had at first refused. Leave the girls, give up her independence? No! It was unthinkable. But as their relationship deepened and as she gradually began to enjoy the physical side of it, Doug dominated her thoughts more and more. Sitting in Blackhall Place where she was attending lectures towards the end of her apprenticeship, her mind would drift away from the droning of her lecturer to think of Doug. She would wonder how he was getting on with the search for the new premises for the video production company, which he had finally set up. He was operating from rented premises that had already proved too small, as new business was generated by word of mouth from more than satisfied customers. Being with Doug was so stimulating. They were always bouncing ideas off one another and she had to admit he was terribly sexy and the more he made love to her the more she was liking it. He asked her again to move in with him and this time Laura agreed.
Needless to say, she hadn’t announced the news at home and as far as the family were concerned she was still living in the flat with the girls. It had worked out well, living with Doug. He was quite content to share the household chores. He didn’t expect her to look after him and often, if he were home first, he would have the dinner ready and a fire lighting. To him, her career was just as important as his and she knew she was exceptionally lucky to have found a man who felt like that. When he asked her to marry him Laura said yes, without a qualm. Doug was her soulmate, her first and only love.
A registry office wedding would have suited her fine as Doug wasn’t pushed one way or another, but Anne Quinn had been devastated when she heard of her daughter’s plans and begged Laura not to make a disgrace of her.
Laura was really torn. She knew that Jill, her elder sister, who was a single parent, would never go through a church wedding if she got married, and to have her other daughter married in a registry office was almost as much a scandal for her mother as Jill’s situation.
Laura’s wedding would be a chance for Anne Quinn to be seated by her husband in the front of the church, giving an appearance of family harmony, and to thumb her nose at Jennifer Casey, Peter’s mistress. With deep misgivings, Laura asked Doug if he would mind a church wedding and he assured her that it didn’t bother him one whit, if that was what she wanted. To think of walking up the aisle with her father, to have him give her away and then to have to listen to him pontificating in his father-of-the-bride speech was enough to make her physically sick. Peter had been furious at the idea of a registry office wedding with just a few close friends to celebrate at a restaurant after it.
‘I wouldn’t give it to them in this town to say I couldn’t have a reception for my daughter. I’m going to pay for your reception, miss, and let that be an end to it. Book the Port Mahon Arms Hotel,’ Peter ordered. ‘We’re not going slumming it in the Harbour Way Hotel like some of them in this town who think they are my betters.’
Laura was tempted to tell him to go to hell. Only the surprised and pleased expression on her mother’s face made her hold her tongue. This one thing she would do for her mother but after that, Peter Quinn would never ever again tell her what to do.
Then the arguments about the guest list and the menu started, until in the end Laura had just thrown up her hands at the whole affair. Let them do what they wanted, argue as much as they liked; they wanted to host the wedding, let them. She had given them Doug’s guest list and her guest list and left them at it. If they wanted to argue about inviting Aunt Nellie and Uncle Billy, let them.
The stress of it all made her break out in a rash. Three days before the wedding she got a plethora of spots on her chin, and her eyes watered from an infection. It was n
o wonder Aileen had shrieked when she saw her at the airport. Rinsing her cup out, Laura sighed ruefully. Radiant bride indeed! A banshee would look more radiant than she was, right this minute. Still, Aileen was going to give her a facial and massage in the morning and do wonders with her make-up on the day of the wedding, so all was not lost. Doug wouldn’t recoil in horror at the sight of her. Yawning hugely, Laura went to bed and dreamt that in the middle of the ceremony she turned around to find her father and his mistress making love at the back of the church as Anne stared at them, a silent scream issuing from her mouth.
Laura woke up crying.
Twenty-Six
Aileen was in that delicious state between waking and sleeping. She stretched luxuriously in her old bed, which was now Judy’s, and thought how nice it was to be at home with the girls. Although she loved London with its fast, urgent pace of life, she really missed her pals. But she had done the right thing going over there to work. There were far more opportunities for beauticians because of the bigger market, and she was glad she had given up her job as a permanent and pensionable officer of the Corporation. Aileen was just not permanent and pensionable material.
Ending her affair with Liam had been the hardest thing she had ever done. Even now after all this time, just thinking about him could make her want him. In his arms, her restlessness would cease and she would become contented, almost serene. And then he would go home to his wife, and she would wonder was their marriage really on the rocks. Did they really not make love any more, as Liam assured her? And if that were the case, why then didn’t he just end it once and for all and come and live with Aileen.
She had been tormented and besotted with him, craving his company and their wonderful sessions of sensual lovemaking that made her want more and more. The loneliness she felt when he left her to go home to his unloved wife was indescribable. Desperate to assure herself that Liam Flynn’s marriage was really on the rocks, she had rung his wife, just to hear the voice of the grouchy, tetchy woman that she imagined Monica Flynn to be. The pleasant, cultured voice that answered her call made Aileen’s insides go cold and she had hung up, palms sweating.
That woman sounded nothing like the woman Liam had described to her. She even sounded quite young. Maybe they had visitors! Somehow, the next weekend, she had managed to edge the conversation around to the family and Liam had confirmed her worst fears by telling her that because they had the house to themselves at the moment his wife had decided to redecorate, and if there was one thing he hated, it was decorating. He dreaded having workmen in the house because it interfered with his creative processes when he was designing buildings and drawing up plans.
‘Thank God I have you to come to,’ he murmured in her ear as his hand slid up under her jumper, the feel of his long caressing fingers against her breast making her ache with desire. They had just had a meal and were cuddling in his car out at the back of the airport. It was dark and private, with only the occasional roar of a jet taking off or landing to disturb them. They often made love there. Banishing her fears Aileen kissed him with a passion that aroused him frantically, and tearing the clothes off each other they made urgent, mind-blowing love. When he left her home, Aileen cried her eyes out in the privacy of her bedroom.
The following Friday she took a half-day and drove to his house in Bray. She knew the address. It was on his business cards and she had found one of them once on the floor of his car and kept it.
She knew she was being paranoid but she couldn’t really help it. She wanted to see if the workmen really were there and maybe she would get a glimpse of Liam’s wife, this menopausal woman who was letting herself go. ‘You’re a fool; you’re crazy, nuts, pathetic, pitiful; you haven’t an ounce of pride!’ she cursed herself aloud as she pulled up at the traffic lights at the church in Shankill. Just up the road was Bray, where he lived, and her heart started to beat a bit faster. ‘It’s not too late to turn around and go home!’ she argued with herself, and caught sight of the driver in the car in the opposite lane staring at her. Aileen glared at him. Couldn’t a girl argue with herself if she wanted to?
Liam lived on a quiet tree-lined road outside the town. Luxurious houses, all architect-designed, stood in their own grounds. Midway along, she found Valhalla, his house. Aileen slowed to a halt and cast an eye around to see if anyone were watching her suspicious behaviour. Like most of the houses she had passed, it was well back off the road for privacy. Mature pine trees surrounded the grounds and hid her from view. She could see a Spanish-style bungalow gleaming in the bright sunlight. An arched veranda encircled the house. Aileen gave a great sigh of relief as she spotted a painter white-washing the outside. At least he hadn’t told her lies about decorating. She edged a bit nearer and her eyes widened as she caught sight of her lover’s car up the drive. He had told her he was going to a conference of architects for the day and wouldn’t be able to meet her as usual for lunch. What the hell was he doing at home, then? It was only three-thirty? He must be sick or something. A woman in shorts came around from the back of the house pushing a wheelbarrow, a tall, shapely woman, her ash-blond hair tied back from her face with a scarf. She smiled at the painter and Aileen heard the man say, ‘You’ve a lovely garden here, Mrs Flynn.’
‘It takes a lot of hard work,’ the woman laughed as she began dead-heading with a secateurs. It was the voice of the woman who had answered the phone, and looking at her as she worked energetically at her shrubs Aileen knew with a sinking feeling that this was not a woman who was letting herself go and sinking into menopausal middle age, as Liam had claimed at the beginning of their affair. Monica Flynn seemed pretty vibrant from where Aileen was sitting. Just then, Liam walked out the front door and Aileen almost jumped, so unexpected was the sight of him.
‘Monica, I’m off, darling,’ she heard him call to his wife. ‘You want some garlic and olives. Is there anything else?’
‘Don’t forget the After Eights,’ the woman called cheerfully. ‘Get a big box. You know JJ. He can’t stop once he starts eating them.’
Aileen didn’t wait to hear any more. Oh God, Liam must not see her here! She got into the Mini and scorched up the road as though the devil himself were on her heels.
‘Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!’ she swore, as she turned on to the winding coast road in the opposite direction to which she had come. Obviously Liam was going into the town to shop; he wouldn’t be coming this way. Aileen had heard songs about heartache but she never realized that your heart could actually physically pain you. It was a searing pain that seemed to envelop her, as images of what she had seen danced around her head.
Darling! He had called his wife darling! How could he? They must he having guests for dinner. Aileen knew JJ Doyle. He was also a Corporation architect and a friend of Liam’s. She pulled the car on to the hard shoulder, crossed her arms over the steering-wheel, rested her head on them and bawled her eyes out. She felt so stupid and so, so used. ‘Liam, Liam, Liam!’ Over and over she cried his name aloud. If only he hadn’t lied to her. If! If only she hadn’t come today. If only Monica Flynn had been a dumpy, dowdy woman. If only . . . Life was full of if onlys. They were the two most futile words in the English language.
Her head was throbbing to match the dull, heavy ache in her heart and she knew she couldn’t sit there for ever. The thought of driving into the rush-hour traffic oppressed her and how could she go home and assume a façade of normality when she just wanted to lie down and die? Switching on the engine, she wiped her eyes and drove further along the coast. It was such a lovely evening and the beauty of the blue, sparkling sea and green cliffs seemed to mock her misery. It was her own fault, of course. Getting involved with a married man led to nothing but unhappiness and torment. And she had thought she could cope. ‘Ha! You idiot, Aileen O’Shaughnessy!’ she cursed herself bitterly. Driving past a sprawling bungalow she noticed a Bed & Breakfast sign. She could always book in. It would save her the harassing drive into the city and she could be alone. She’d got paid t
oday and because she hadn’t met Liam for lunch for once she had cashed her cheque so she wasn’t stuck for funds.
Aileen prepared to reverse and caught sight of herself in the mirror, eyes swollen and red from crying, hair a mess. No-one would let her past the door looking the way she did. She wiped her eyes, slapped on some foundation and eye-shadow and mascara, added a touch of lipstick, ran a comb through her hair and reversed back to the house.
It would look odd, she supposed, that she had no luggage. Then she remembered that she had a sports bag with some swimming gear in the boot. That would do fine.
A smiling, middle-aged woman answered the door and Aileen told her that she’d like bed and breakfast for the night.
‘Certainly, if you’d like to come this way, I have some single rooms free,’ the woman replied.
Aileen was shown to a pretty green-and-white bedroom with a shower and toilet en suite. It was lovely, very clean and just what she needed. And the price was reasonable.
‘Do you have a phone I could use?’ Aileen marvelled at how normal her voice sounded. It must be her theatrical training, she thought wryly. The woman led her down the hall and told her that tea would be served at five-thirty if she wished to have some.
Aileen dropped the coins into the callbox and dialled Cassie’s work number. She hadn’t said she wouldn’t be home and it was only fair to ring and tell the girls so they could lock up properly.
‘I won’t be home tonight, Cassie. I’ll see you some time tomorrow,’ she said in her most cheerful voice.
‘OK, Aileen, have a good time.’ Cassie obviously thought she was going out on the town with friends. Or else that she was spending the night with Liam.
‘Thanks. Bye, Cassie,’ Aileen said forlornly, her lower lip wobbling. By the time she got back to her room she was in tears again. Locking her door, she curled herself up in a ball on the bed and sobbed like a child.
Finishing Touches Page 27