‘Yeah, what about it?’
‘He tells this story all the time, Lou. About how Douglas entered the competition on the back of the cereal box and they won a trip to St Lucia … Anything?’ She looked at him for a glimmer of recognition.
Lou shook his head.
‘Wow, how could you not know that?’ She continued on her mission to get to the wardrobe. ‘It’s his favourite story. He’ll be emotional.’
‘Dad won’t be emotional,’ he smiled. ‘He doesn’t get emotional.’
Ruth disappeared inside and reappeared with one shoe on her foot and the other under her arm. Up, down, down and up, she made her way across the room to her dressing table.
Lucy giggled.
Ruth put her jewellery on, her earrings, her bracelet, and only then did she remove the shoe from under her arm to put it on.
Lou smiled again and watched her totter into the bathroom.
‘Oh,’ she raised her voice once inside. ‘When you see Mary Walsh, don’t mention Patrick.’ She stuck her head outside the bathroom. Half of her hair was covered in rollers, the other half loose and curled. Her face was sad. ‘He left her.’
‘Okay,’ he nodded, trying to remain as solemn as possible.
When she’d ducked her head back in again, Lou turned to Lucy. ‘Patrick left Mary Walsh,’ he said. ‘Did you know that?’
Lucy shook her head wildly.
‘Did you tell him to do that?’
She shook her head, laughing.
‘Who knew that would happen?’
Lucy shrugged. ‘Maybe Mary did.’
Lou laughed. ‘Maybe.’
‘Oh, and please don’t ask Laura if she’s lost weight. You always do that and she hates it.’
‘Isn’t that a nice thing to say?’ He frowned.
Ruth laughed. ‘Honey, she’s been putting on weight consistently for the past ten years. When you say it to her, it’s like you’re teasing.’
‘Laura’s a fatty,’ he whispered to Lucy, and she fell about on the bed laughing.
He took a deep breath as he noticed the time, and, strangely, dread filled his stomach. ‘Okay, I really have to go. See you tomorrow,’ he said to Lucy, kissing her on the head.
‘I like you much better now, Daddy,’ she said happily.
Lou froze, half on the bed, half off.
‘What did you say?’
‘I said I like you much better now,’ she smiled, revealing a missing bottom tooth. ‘Me, Mummy and Pud are going ice-skating tomorrow, will you come?’
Still taken aback by her comment and how it had affected him, he simply said, ‘Yes. Sure.’
Ruth came back into the room again, bringing a wave of her perfume with her, her hair in loose waves down past her shoulders, her make-up flawless. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
‘Mummy, Mummy!’ Lucy jumped up onto the bed and started bouncing up and down. ‘Daddy’s coming ice-skating tomorrow.’
‘Lucy, get down, you’re not allowed to jump on the bed. Get down, sweetheart, thank you. Remember I told you that Daddy is a very busy man, he doesn’t have time to be –’
‘I’m coming,’ Lou interrupted firmly.
Ruth’s mouth fell open. ‘Oh.’
‘Is that okay?’
‘Yes, sure, I just … Yes. Absolutely. Great.’ She nodded, then headed in the other direction, clearly taken aback. The bathroom door closed softly behind her.
He gave her five minutes alone but then couldn’t afford to wait any longer.
‘Ruth,’ Lou rapped gently on the bathroom door, ‘you okay?’
‘Yes, I’m fine.’ She cleared her throat and sounded more perky than she intended. ‘I’m just … blowing my nose.’ There was a loud sound of her nose being blown.
‘Okay, I’ll see you later,’ he said, wanting to go inside and hug her goodbye, but knowing that the door would open if she wanted him to.
‘Okay,’ she said, a little less perky again. ‘See you at the party.’
The door remained closed, and so he left.
The offices of Patterson Developments were swarming with Lou Suffern’s colleagues in various states of disarray. It was only seven thirty p.m. and already some were set for the night. Unlike Lou, who’d gone home after work, most people had gone straight to the pub and returned to the party to continue. There were women he barely recognised in dresses revealing bodies he had never known existed beneath their suits; and there were some whose bodies were made only for their suits. The uniformity of the day had been broken down: there was an air of adolescence, of the desire to show off and prove to one another who they really were. It was a day for rule-breaking, for saying what they felt; it was a dangerous environment to be in. Mistletoe hung from almost every doorway – in fact, Lou had already received two kisses as soon as he’d stepped out of the elevator, from opportunists hanging out there.
Suit jackets were off; novelty musical ties, Santa hats and reindeer antlers were on. Christmas-tree decorations hung from women’s – and some men’s – ears. They all worked hard and they were all going to play hard.
‘Where’s Mr Patterson?’ Lou asked Alison, finding her sitting on the lap of the fifth Santa Claus he’d seen. Her eyes were glassy, the focus already gone. She was wearing a tight red dress that showed every single shape and curve of her body. He forced himself to look away.
‘And what do you want for Christmas, little boy?’ the voice beneath the costume bellowed.
‘Oh, hi James,’ Lou said politely.
‘He wants a promotion,’ somebody in the crowd yelled, which was followed by a few titters.
‘Not just a promotion, he wants Cliff’s job,’ somebody with reindeer antlers shouted, and the crowd laughed again.
Smiling to hide his frustration and minor embarrassment, Lou laughed along with them, then when the conversation turned to something else, he quietly slipped away. He retreated to his office, which was quiet and still, not a glimpse of tinsel or mistletoe in sight. He sat with his head in his hands, awaiting Mr Patterson’s call to his office, listening to ‘Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer’ being half-sung and half-shouted by the crowd outside. Suddenly the music got louder as the door to his office opened, then it quietened as the door closed. He guessed who it was before he looked up.
Alison walked towards him, glass of red wine in one hand, a whisky in the other, her hips swinging in the slinky red dress and looking like the dangly thing at the back of a throat. Her ankles wobbled in her platform heels and the red wine jumped up a few times to splash her thumb.
‘Careful there.’ Lou’s eyes followed her every move, his head staying put, both sure and uncertain at the same time.
‘It’s okay.’ She put her glass down on the table and sensually sucked her thumb, licking the spilled wine from her skin, while looking at Lou seductively. ‘I brought you a whisky.’ She handed it to him and sidled up beside him at the desk. ‘Cheers.’ She clinked his glass, and then, her eyes once again not moving from his, she drank.
Lou cleared his throat, suddenly feeling crowded, and pushed his chair back. Alison misunderstood and slid her behind along the desk so that she was directly in front of him. Her chest was in his eyeline and he tore his eyes away and instead watched the door. His position was dangerous. It looked very bad. He felt extremely good.
‘We never got to finish up what we were doing before,’ she smiled. ‘Everybody’s talking about clearing their desks before Christmas.’ Her voice was low and sultry. ‘Thought I’d come in and give you a hand.’
She pushed away a few files from his desk; they slid down onto the floor, scattering everywhere.
‘Oops,’ she smiled, sitting on the desk before him, her short red dress rising even further up her thighs, revealing long, toned, tanned legs.
Beads of sweat broke out on Lou’s brow. His mind ran through every possibility. Go outside and search for Mr Patterson, or stay inside with Alison. He still had the two pills he found around the skip which were safel
y wrapped in a handkerchief and in his pocket. He could take a pill and do both. Remember his priorities: be with Alison, and go to his dad’s party. No, be with Mr Patterson, go to his dad’s party. Both at the same time.
Uncrossing her legs, Alison used her foot to pull his chair in closer to the table, red lace between her thighs greeting him as he was wheeled slowly closer to her. She inched her body to the edge of the desk, pushing her dress up even higher. So high there was nowhere else for him to look now. He could take a pill: be with Alison, and be with Ruth.
Ruth.
Alison reached out and pulled him closer, her hands on his face. He felt the acrylic nails. The tap-tap sound against the keyboard that drove him insane every day. There they were, on his face, on his chest, running down his body. Long fingers running down the fabric of his suit, the suit that was supposed to mirror his inner dignity.
‘I’m married,’ he spluttered as her hand reached his groin. His voice was panicked, sounding childlike. Weak and so easily convinced.
Alison threw her head back and laughed. ‘I know,’ she purred, and her hands continued roving.
‘That wasn’t a joke,’ he said firmly, and she stopped suddenly to look at him. He stared back at her solemnly and they held one another’s gaze, then the corner of Alison’s lips lifted in a smile despite trying to prevent it. Then, when she couldn’t keep it in any more, she exploded. Her long blonde hair reached down to tickle his desk top as she threw her head back to laugh.
‘Oh Lou,’ she sighed, finally wiping the corner of her eyes.
‘It’s not a joke,’ he said more firmly, with dignity, with confidence. More of a man now than he was five minutes ago.
Realising he wasn’t teasing now, her smile faded instantly.
‘Isn’t it a joke?’ She cocked an eyebrow, looked him dead in the eye. ‘Because you might have fooled her, Lou, but you haven’t fooled us.’
‘Us?’
She waved a hand behind her dismissively. ‘Us. Everyone. Whatever.’
He pushed his chair away from the desk.
‘Oh, okay, you want me to be specific? I’ll be specific. Gemma in accounts, Rebecca in the canteen, Louise on training, Tracey – your secretary before me – and I never did get the nanny’s name. Shall I continue?’ She smiled, then took a sip of wine, watching him. Her eyes watered slightly, her corneas reddened as though the wine was travelling directly to her eyes. ‘Remember all of them?’
‘They were,’ Lou swallowed, feeling breathless, ‘they were a long time ago. I’m different now.’
‘The nanny was six months ago,’ she laughed. ‘Christ, Lou, how much do you think a man like you can change in six months, if at all?’
Lou felt dizzy, sickened all of a sudden. He ran his sweaty hands through his hair, panic setting in. What had he done?
‘Just think about it,’ she perked up. ‘When you become Number Two around here, you can have whoever you want, but just remember I got you first,’ she laughed, putting down the wine and reaching out her foot to pull his chair towards her again. ‘But if you take me with you, I can tend to all your needs.’
She took the whisky glass from his hand and placed it on the desk. Then she took his hand, pulled him to his feet, and he followed, numb and lifeless like a dummy. She rubbed her hands across his chest, grabbed his lapels and pulled him closer. Just as their lips were about to meet, he stopped, went off course and moved his lips to her ear. Ever so softly, he whispered,
‘My marriage is not a joke, Alison. You are. And my wife is the kind of woman that you could only hope of being someday.’
With that, he pulled back and walked away from the desk.
Alison sat frozen on the desk. The only movement was her mouth, which had fallen open, and her hand, which fidgeted and tried to pull at the end of her skirt.
‘Yeah,’ he watched her fix herself, ‘you should cover that up. You can take a minute to gather your thoughts, but please replace the files on my desk before you leave,’ he said calmly. Placing his hands in his pockets to hide how much his body shook, he strode out of his office and into the middle of a karaoke, where Alex from accounts was drunkenly outing himself by singing Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want for Christmas’. Around Lou, streamers popped, and drunken bearded men and women smothered him with kisses as he left his office.
‘I have to go,’ he said, to no one in particular, trying to make his way to the elevator. He pushed right through the crowd, some people grabbing him and trying to dance with him, others blocking his path and spilling drink. ‘I have to go,’ he said, a little more aggressively now. His head was pounding; he was nauseous; he felt as though he had just woken up in the body of a man who had taken over his life and ballsed it right up. ‘It’s my dad’s seventieth, I have to go,’ he said, trying to make his way to the elevator. Finally, he reached the lifts, pressed the call button and didn’t turn around, but kept his head down and waited.
‘Lou!’ He heard his name. He kept his head down, ignoring the voice. ‘Lou! I need a minute with you!’ He ignored it again, watching the floors rising on the elevator panel and shaking his leg anxiously, hoping he’d get inside before it was too late.
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
‘Lou! I’ve been calling you!’ a friendly voice said.
He turned around. ‘Ah, Mr Patterson, hello. Sorry.’ Lou was aware his voice was edgy but he needed to get out of there. He’d promised Ruth and so he pressed down on the elevator button quickly. ‘I’m in a bit of a rush, it’s my dad’s se—’
‘We won’t take long, I promise. Just a word.’ He felt Mr Patterson’s hand on his arm.
‘Okay.’ Lou turned around, biting down on his lip.
‘Well, I was rather hoping we could talk in my office, if you don’t mind,’ Mr Patterson smiled. ‘Are you okay, you look a little shaken up.’
‘I’m fine, I’m just, you know, in a rush.’ He allowed his boss to take him by the arm.
‘Of course you are,’ Mr Patterson laughed. ‘You always are.’ He led Lou down to his office and they sat down opposite one another on aged brown leather couches in the more informal part of Mr Patterson’s office. Lou’s forehead was sweating; he was aware that he could smell himself and hoped that Mr Patterson couldn’t too. He reached for the glass of water in front of him; his trembling hand brought it to his lips and Mr Patterson looked on while he gulped.
‘Would you like something stronger, Lou?’
‘No, thank you, Mr Patterson.’
‘Laurence, please.’ Mr Patterson shook his head again. ‘Honestly, Lou, you make me feel like a schoolteacher when you address me as such.’
‘Sorry, Mr Patter—’
‘Well, I’m going to have one, anyway.’ Mr Patterson stood up and made his way over to the drinks cabinet. He poured himself a brandy from a crystal decanter. ‘You sure you won’t have one?’ he offered again. ‘Rémy XO,’ he swirled it mid-air, tauntingly.
‘Okay, I will, thank you.’ Lou smiled and relaxed a little, his panic to get across the road to the party subsiding slightly.
‘Good.’ Mr Patterson smiled. ‘So, Lou, let’s talk about your future. How much time do you have?’
Lou took his first sip of the expensive brandy and he was brought back to the room, back to the present. He pulled his cuffs over his watch, taking away the distraction. He prepared for the big promotion, for his polished shoes to walk in Cliff’s footsteps – though not literally to the hospital he was currently housed in, but to the top office, with panoramic views of Dublin city. He took deep breaths and ignored the clock ticking away on the wall, trying to put his father’s party out of his head. It would all be worth it. They would all understand. They would all be too busy partying even to notice he wasn’t there.
‘I’ve all the time you need.’ Lou smiled nervously, ignoring the voice within him that shouted to be heard.
23.
Surprise!
When Lou arrived at the venue for his father’s party – l
ate – he was sweating profusely as though he’d broken out in a high fever, despite the December chill that had the power to run right through to a body’s bones; squeezing into the joints and whistling around the body. He was breathless and nauseous at the same time. Relieved and exhilarated. He was exhausted, all on its own.
He’d decided to host his father’s party in the famous building that Gabe had admired the very first day they’d met. Shaped like a sail, it was lit up in blue, their award-winning building, which was sure to impress his father and relatives from around the country. Directly in front of the building, the Viking longship’s tall mast was decorated in Christmas lights.
When he reached the door, Marcia was outside giving out to a large doorman dressed in black. Bundled in coats, hats and scarves, a crowd of twenty or so people were standing around, stamping their feet on the pavement in order to stay warm.
‘Hi Marcia,’ Lou said happily, trying to break up the argument. He was bursting to tell her about the promotion but he had to bite his lip; he had to find Ruth first to tell her.
Marcia turned to face him, her eyes red and blotchy, her mascara smudged. ‘Lou,’ she spat, the anger not disappearing but instead intensifying and being aimed at him.
His stomach did somersaults, which was rare. He never usually cared what his sister thought of him, but tonight he was caring more than usual.
‘What’s wrong?’
She left the crowd behind and came firing at him. ‘I’ve been trying to call you for an hour.’
‘I was at my work party, I told you that. What’s wrong?’
‘You are what’s wrong,’ she said shakily, her voice somewhere between anger and deep sadness. She inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. ‘It’s Daddy’s birthday, and for his sake I won’t ruin it any more than it already has been, by causing an argument, so all I have to say is would you please tell this brute to let our family in. Our family –’ she raised her voice to that quivering screech, ‘who have travelled from all over the country to share in,’ her voice went weepy again, ‘in Dad’s special day. But instead of being with his family, he’s up there in a practically empty room, while everybody is out here being turned away. Five people have already gone home.’
Cecelia Ahern 2-book Bundle Page 18