He's Got to Go

by Sheila O'Flanagan

  “Thanks,” said Portia. “I know he won’t believe me when I tell him a bloke reversed into it. Dad doesn’t believe that any man could possibly be a worse driver than a woman.”

  “If I ever see you again I’ll tell you the story of how I met Adam,” said Nessa. “In fact, I might tell it to your dad. That’ll cure him of that sort of thinking.”

  “Mum had to unpark Dad’s car,” said Jill. “He was stuck in a carpark.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Sounds an excellent basis for a relationship.” Portia stood up. “I’d better get back to Mitch.”

  “And we’d better get going too,” said Nessa. “Otherwise Jill will be late for school.”

  Normally she walked Jill to the school which was half a mile away but, because they were running late, she drove Adam’s car. It wasn’t badly damaged at all and neither, it seemed, was the car that belonged to Portia’s father which meant (hopefully) that they wouldn’t need to claim on insurance or anything like that. Adam would pay for the repairs. He always did.

  She drove through the town and along the estuary until she reached the doctor’s surgery. She hoped that it wouldn’t be a busy morning. But she knew it was a vain hope. Every day was a busy day. She also hoped that Adam would remember that he had to be home early because of the family gathering tonight. It was the kind of thing that, in his sense of injustice over the car incident, he was likely to forget.

  2

  Aries March 21st–April 20th

  Energetic, fiery, self-confident. Life’s a competition.

  The clock on Cate Driscoll’s computer chimed and she realized that she’d already been in the office for three and a half hours. And it was still only ten o’clock. She rubbed her eyes then stretched her arms over her head. Coming in to work so early in the mornings held the advantage of being able to get loads of things done without any interruptions, but it also meant that she was already tired. Given the choice she probably wouldn’t be in before seven any morning but with her current lifestyle it made sense. What was the point of lying in bed when she was already awake? Wide awake, thanks to Finn.

  Cate hated her boyfriend’s three-times-a-week early morning slot at the radio station where he worked because of the fact that she could never, ever get back to sleep after he left. Finn fondly believed that he tiptoed silently around the apartment in the mornings but he was totally unable to open or close a door without banging it and, of course, the buzz of his electric shaver was enough to banish all thoughts she might have of dropping off again. But she usually lay in bed with her eyes closed until after he’d slammed the apartment door closed behind him because there was no point in making him feel guilty about waking her. In reality she doubted that he’d ever feel guilty about waking her but she still felt that pretending to be asleep was better than telling him that the noise he made was something similar to a herd of elephants taking a stroll across the veldt. So as soon as he left she got up, which meant being in the office hours before anyone else. Some mornings when she was feeling particularly masochistic she’d pack her work clothes into a bag and drive to the gym. But things at the sports company where she was the sales director weren’t exactly going according to plan this month and so the gym was the last place she wanted to be.

  Finn would be finished with the radio program soon and he’d have breakfast at the studio before sitting down with his researchers and producer and chatting about next week’s shows. Today, being Friday, he’d also have to write his weekend column for one of the newspapers and then—lucky sod—he’d go home to the apartment and sleep for a couple of hours. So that when she arrived home at six o’clock like a wet rag, he wouldn’t be able to understand why she didn’t feel like going to Harry Byrne’s pub for a few drinks and he’d sigh and tell her that they didn’t have to be up early in the morning because it was Saturday and what on earth was the matter with her?

  He was always asking her what was the matter lately. He’d tell her that she was looking terrible and was in a foul humor and he’d mutter something about going out for a few drinks with his mates until her mood improved. Cate shivered as she wondered whether it was more than the fact that she was so stressed at work right now. Whether it was simply that she and Finn were the matter and not the fact that the Sales & Marketing Department was having the worst quarter she could remember. She didn’t want to think that anything was wrong between them but sometimes she felt as though she was losing Finn, as though the relationship they’d had was slipping away and there was nothing she could do to stop it. They’d spent three wonderful years together since she’d come on his morning business program and talked to him about the new initiative that the sports company she worked for had launched which would help children in deprived areas become involved in sporting activities. She’d generated lots of interest for the project and it had worked really well for the company too. She’d come back on the program a few months later to talk about the things that had been especially successful and had invited Finn to be guest of honor at a dinner that the company was sponsoring for sporting achievement. Finn had accepted and, after the dinner, she’d gone back to his seafront apartment where they’d enjoyed a perfect night together. She hadn’t spent a night away from it ever since.

  She sighed and rested her head in her hands. She wished she knew why things didn’t feel so perfect now. She didn’t know exactly what was wrong, she only knew that whatever she did these days she didn’t feel as though it was right. And she hated Finn having to ask her what was the matter. Even worse was him telling her that she looked awful! She didn’t want him to think of her as a woman who might have something that was the matter with her and who looked awful. Finn didn’t have time for that sort of woman, he’d told her that when she’d first met him. Life’s too short, he’d said, to be gloomy and introspective and haggard. Which is all very well, thought Cate glumly as she lifted her head and looked at her computer screen again, but when you were responsible for sales and they’d fallen for two months in a row, it was damn difficult not to be gloomy and introspective and haggard. And bloody worried too. Her biggest worry was that Finn would simply get bored with her. After all, being a sales director wasn’t exactly in the same league as being a media star. And Finn, even though his program was aimed at a business audience, was well on the way to becoming a media star. He was a panelist on two late-evening programs on the days when he wasn’t doing breakfast shows. The evening programs covered more offbeat stories about commerce and had shot up in the ratings since he’d joined the panel.

  Occasionally he guested on other presenter’s programs too. Last week he’d been invited to the launch of a new brand of beer, ostensibly because the brewing company would be announcing its profits for the year soon and he’d be covering that news on his business program. But the beer launch had nothing to do with profitability. Cate had seen photographs of him in the paper afterward, flanked by two models from the ad agency which was promoting the brand. They were tall, thin and sultry and Finn looked as though he was having a truly great time at something he’d originally told her he didn’t really want to attend.

  She told herself that she was being silly. She was usually a successful, confident, go-getting kind of person who didn’t have to be tall, thin and sultry to get on with her life. Not, she reminded herself, that there was anything wrong with the way she looked either. That was the stupid thing. She knew that she was attractive and that it was probably her face rather than her work for the sports company that had first sparked Finn’s interest in her anyway. She was aware of her high cheekbones, decently proportioned figure and her smooth, clear skin. She spent a lot of time every morning ensuring that she was as perfectly made up as it was possible to be without appearing as though she was wearing any makeup at all. She was always prepared to buy the newest shades in foundations and lipsticks and eyeshadows so that her look was as understatedly up-to-the minute as possible. She had her nails manicured every week and her hair trimmed
every fortnight. She wore expensive clothes from expensive shops and she wore them well. There was nothing wrong with the way she looked or the way she dressed. There was nothing wrong with the career she had. But, somehow, it seemed as if looking good and feeling good were two separate things these days when once they had been exactly the same.

  She tapped her ruby-red nails on her desk and glanced at the clock on her computer again. Only five past ten. Yet it seemed as though she’d been sitting here thinking about things for hours. The door to the office banged and Glenda Maguire popped her head around Cate’s office door. The sports company allowed staff to work flexible hours. Glenda, Cate’s assistant, rarely came in before ten.

  “How are you this morning?” Glenda was bright and cheery.

  “Narky,” said Cate.

  “Oh, dear.” Glenda looked at her sympathetically. “Out late with Finn-So-Cool last night?”

  Cate gritted her teeth. The tabloids had named him Finn-So-Cool and the name—a pun on the name of the mythical Irish warrior Fionn MacCool—had stuck. Cate’s Finn was a modern warrior. His golden hair flopped carelessly over his high forehead and his eyes were dark blue pools in an almost perfect face. But it was a strong face, a face with character. Finn oozed controlled charm. He knew when to smile and, when he was interviewing, he knew when to go for the jugular. Despite the topical nature of his programs he had the kind of ratings that chat show hosts would have died for. Both men and women tuned in to his soft, lyrical tones which could harden into cool authority whenever he wanted to make a particular point. Finn Coolidge was very, very popular. She was lucky to have him.

  “We weren’t out late,” she told Glenda calmly. “But Finn gets up pretty early, you know, and he nearly always wakes me.”

  “It must be wonderful to wake up beside someone like him,” said Glenda dreamily. “I only have Johnny. It’s not quite the same.”

  “Can you get me the report that David McRedmond sent us last week?” asked Cate. “And some coffee, please, Glenda.”

  “Sure.” Glenda withdrew from the office and made a face. Her boss really was narky this morning and she was going to steer well clear of her. She liked working for Cate Driscoll but she thought that the other girl sometimes took herself far too seriously for her own good. She’d been like a demon for the past two months. Everyone knew that sales were down because their competitors had beaten them to it with the release of another new trainer. That wasn’t Cate’s fault. If she wasn’t careful, thought Glenda, as she filled the coffee machine with filtered water, Finn-So-Cool would go and fish in other waters. And Cate would have driven him to it.

  Cate’s phone rang and she reached out for it.

  “Hi, it’s me.”

  “Hello, Nessa.” Cate made a face at the phone. She didn’t feel like talking to her older sister right now. At thirty, she was only four years younger than Nessa but Nessa had a way of making her feel as though she were still a child. Cate didn’t quite know how Nessa managed this given her status as a bloody part-time receptionist and almost full-time domestic paragon while she, Cate, had a career and not just a job. She knew she should be able to transcend being the second born but somehow she couldn’t quite achieve it.

  “I was calling about tonight.”

  “What about it?” asked Cate.

  “You haven’t forgotten, have you? Mum and Dad are coming around. So are you and Finn.”

  “No, I hadn’t forgotten.” Though I wish I didn’t have to go, thought Cate. She could think of nothing more awful than sitting in Nessa’s rag-rolled, chintzy house for the evening.

  “I just thought that it would be nice if you could arrive early,” Nessa told her. “So’s we’re all here when Mum and Dad call.”

  “Nessa, they’re our parents, not some corporate clients of Adam’s,” said Cate irritably. “We don’t have to impress them, you know.”

  “I’m not trying to impress,” said Nessa. “Just make them feel wanted.”

  “Why?” asked Cate. “They already know that.”

  “You’re hopeless when it comes to relationships and family things, Catey, you know that? It’s a nice gesture, that’s all.”

  “Fine, fine,” said Cate. “We’ll be there. D’you want me to bring anything?”

  “No,” said Nessa. “Everything’s organized.”

  “Indeed,” said Cate dryly.

  “You don’t sound very enthusiastic,” complained Nessa.

  “I am,” Cate said. “Honestly.”

  “I baked a cake yesterday,” said Nessa. “I’ve put chocolate icing on it. At first I was going to get lemon but I changed my mind. I think Mum prefers chocolate.”

  Why does she always manage to sound so smug, wondered Cate. So smug and settled and fucking secure about everything. I’m looking at our marketing budget and wondering where the hell I’m going to find another hundred thousand euros before the end of the quarter and she’s making life and death decisions like lemon or chocolate icing.

  Cate frowned. She didn’t envy her sister’s life even if it did seem to be completely devoid of pressure. Adam did all the worrying for her, allowing Nessa to concentrate on her lovely house and her precocious child and decisions on lemon or chocolate icing. Nessa was concerned with the domestic stuff and Adam was in charge of everything else and they both seemed to like it that way. Cate knew it would drive her mad. Although, she conceded, Nessa wasn’t the one worrying about her bloody relationship, was she? She was happily cooking and cleaning and discussing various icing options. As though she was a Stepford Wife, thought Cate darkly. She flicked the computer mouse angrily across her desk.

  “You’ll never guess what happened this morning,” said her sister cheerfully.

  “What?” Cate didn’t feel like guessing.

  “Adam pranged the car again.”

  Well, thought Cate, at least that was one area where the Rileys weren’t a perfect family unit.

  “Again?”

  “Backed out of the driveway into another car.” She giggled. “He really is utterly hopeless.”

  “What did you do?” Cate frowned as she opened her e-mails. What was this garbage from Conrad Burton all about? How could the sale of their new sports shoe to a leading department store have fallen through? If it was because Nike had got one over on them again she’d kill someone. She knew she would.

  “Oh, I sorted everything out. Adam had to rush off, he had a meeting in Loughlinstown. He took the Ka.”

  “The Ka!” Cate’s mind was dragged back to the conversation. “I can’t see Adam in a Ka somehow.”

  “He hardly fitted in it,” admitted Nessa. “But he didn’t have any choice. I drove Jill to school in the Alfa and I rang the garage about repairs but Bree wasn’t in. I’ll give her a call later on.”

  “Mornings aren’t her strong point,” said Cate.

  “I suppose not,” Nessa agreed. “Oh, by the way, I read your horoscope this morning. It was excellent, Cate. Apparently Mars is moving into Saturn or something which is very good for Arians. It was talking about great new opportunities.”

  “Really?” Cate’s tone was skeptical.

  “Really,” said Nessa. “So I thought you’d better be prepared in case anything exciting presents itself. I know how you dynamic people like to seize every opportunity.”

  “It’s a load of crap,” said Cate.

  “No it’s not,” protested Nessa. “Mine was right about this week, it’s been one of those weeks where loads of little things go wrong and that’s what it told me it’d be like. And what about last month? A windfall, it said, and it was right about that too. Five hundred euros on the Lotto. So don’t tell me it’s rubbish.”

  Cate was tired of hearing about Nessa’s Lotto win. “Everyone born in July wouldn’t have won five hundred euros on the Lotto,” she said.

  “But I did,” Nessa told her triumphantly. “And that’s all that matters. Look, Cate, got to go, can’t hang around talking all day—a gang of patients has just walked
up the path. See you.”

  “See you,” said Cate although Nessa had already hung up. Honestly, thought Cate crossly as she scrolled through the rest of her e-mails, you’d swear that Nessa was the busy one, the one with the pressurized job, the way she carried on. Nessa had phoned Cate, not the other way around and yet Nessa had hung up as though she was keeping her from her work. It made her want to scream.

  Glenda tapped at the door and placed a cup of coffee on Cate’s desk.

  “Don’t forget you’ve a meeting with Jack Mullen at eleven,” said Glenda. “And Barbara Donovan wants to see you sometime today. Plus the people from PhotoSnap are calling in about the brochure at twelve.”

  “Fine, Glenda.” Cate took a sip of coffee. It tasted vile. She pushed it to one side.

  “And Finn called,” added Glenda. “But I told him you were on the phone.”

  “Finn called?” Cate was surprised. He hardly ever called her at work. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  “Nope,” said Glenda. “He said he’ll call you back after lunch. It’s not really important. He’s at meetings all morning.”

  “Fine,” said Cate. Me and Finn, she thought. Media star and businesswoman. Partners. Maybe we’ll grab some brilliant opportunity between us and make Nessa’s stupid predictions right. She took another tentative sip of the coffee and wrinkled up her nose at the taste. It was too disgusting to drink. She emptied it into the potted plant on the floor beside her desk. It was looking a bit dull. The caffeine might help.

  3

  Sagittarius November 23rd–December 21st

  Friendly, enthusiastic, optimistic.

  Fun-loving philosophers.

  Bree Driscoll scrambled into her clothes, grabbed her backpack and clattered down the stairs of her flat in less than five minutes. Her hair was still damp from her thirty-second shower—her third rushed one this week—and it stuck to her head as she adjusted her black helmet. She was still pulling on her leather gloves as she revved up her brand-new Yamaha and roared down Morehampton Road to Crosbie’s garage.