by Caragh Bell
‘Don’t talk to me.’ Craig pulled a beer out of the fridge.
‘Trouble in paradise?’
‘She made this pasta thing. I mentioned that pasta wasn’t my favourite food in the world and then she tore the head off me for no reason. How she’d made a huge effort and the least I could have done was pretend.’ He took a swig of beer. ‘To be honest, it’s been building up for a while – we’re spending way too much time together.’
Luca grinned. ‘Relationships suck. I warned you, man.’
‘Thank God Lydia came back in the middle of it. She was so loved up, it counteracted the tension a bit.’
Luca went cold. ‘Loved up?’
‘Oh, Doctor Dom took her to a swanky hotel in Dublin this weekend with champagne – the works.’
Luca was clutching his beer so hard he crumpled the can. He had been under the impression that she had gone home to West Cork that weekend.
He got to his feet abruptly and grabbed his jacket.
‘Later, bro.’ He nodded curtly to Craig. ‘I’m going out.’
Craig sipped his beer in surprise. ‘Was it something I said?’
This was a setback, there was no denying it, thought Luca. She was all loved-up now and less susceptible to his advances.
‘Fuck,’ he muttered under his breath.
One option was to ignore her completely and finish their so-called friendship. He would just admit defeat and go pick up some girl in a bar.
Yet, he wanted to see her. He didn’t like the idea of not seeing her. Dammit, he would just have to accept that they were friends. He couldn’t just cut her out of his life. He liked her. She was interesting and cool and …
What the fuck, man? He stopped short. What was going down? He had never been this way over a girl before.
Pulling out his phone, he rang Jessica.
‘My place later?’ he said, without emotion.
She squealed in delight.
He hung up. She would never refuse him. Jessica was a sure thing. She never got complicated and that was just how he liked it.
Lydia, however, was another story. She made him laugh. He didn’t mind spending hours with her drinking coffee; it was fun. He liked listening to her stories about Irish mythology. The way her soft voice lilted as she spoke. Somehow, they worked.
As friends, obviously.
He sighed. It was hard to admit defeat. Especially for someone who always got what he wanted.
But she was worth it. Being friends was better than nothing at all. When it came down to it, he couldn’t bear the thought of her not being in his life.
Chapter 15
October turned to November.
‘So, Lyd, are you ever going to allow me to take you to the cinema?’ Luca opened his eyes wide and looked pleadingly at her.
Lydia giggled. ‘No, not on our own.’
‘Why? I’ll be the perfect gentleman. No funny business.’ He put his hand on his heart. ‘Scout’s honour!’
‘No! Look, if Colin or Sam go too, that’s fine, but on our own it looks weird.’ She sipped her coffee.
‘Why? All we’re going to do is get popcorn ...’
Lydia shook her head furiously. ‘Jesus, Luca, you have a girlfriend so –’
‘Hey, Lyd,’ Luca looked at her seriously, ‘I have only honourable intentions, I promise. It’s just I like hanging out with you. You’re funny.’
‘Gosh, thanks.’
‘And I’m pretty much over my initial attraction so we’re all set to be buddies.’
‘Well, if you swear to be my friend with no benefits whatsoever, I think I can do the cinema.’
‘Great. Man, I love when I win.’ Luca slung his backpack over his shoulder. ‘Take you to one of those French films at the festival down town?’
Lydia started in surprise. ‘You would be willing to sit through a French subtitled movie for me?’
‘Sure thing! What are friends for?’ he said with a smirk.
‘What’s the joke?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘No joke at all,’ he said.
Luca was due to pick her up at seven.
Lydia let the hot water of the shower beat down on her head. She was so excited about tonight. Amélie was the film being shown that evening and, even though it was kitsch and over the top, she adored the music and, of course, the story.
As she stepped out of the shower, the cold air hit her like a slap. Vigorously she rubbed her goose-pimpled body with a towel. Padding into her room, she pulled open the doors of her wardrobe. She fingered her jeans lying on the shelf. Then her eyes were drawn to a short purple dress she had bought in London last year. It was cute and figure-hugging. Pulling it off its hanger, she laid it on the bed. Yes, she would wear it.
She chose some of her sexiest underwear – just to make herself feel good. Then she slipped the dress on and glanced in the mirror. Black tights and boots, she decided, and pulled them on.
She sat down in front of the mirror and painted her lips coral pink. Soon black kohl circled her eyes and she ran a brush through her hair so it fell loosely down her back.
Wrapping her woolly scarf around her neck she stood and checked her reflection one more time.
Samantha walked into the room and whistled.
‘Janey, when you make an effort you are pretty gorgeous, Lyd.’
Lydia blushed. ‘I didn’t really ...’
Her friend raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t even try to convince me that you’re not excited about going out with that Love God!’
Lydia flashed her a brilliant smile. ‘I won’t be late.’
The doorbell rang.
Luca shoved his hands in his pockets.
Man, it was cold. Why had he suggested an arty French film?
He knew why. To impress her. God, he was such a sucker sometimes. Lydia Kelly got under his skin. The only solution was to get her out of his system. Once a girl gave in, it didn’t take too long for him to get bored.
The door opened and he caught his breath.
Holy shit, she’s hot, he thought, momentarily at a loss as to what to say.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she said, beaming at him as she slipped on her coat.
‘Let’s go,’ he said gruffly.
They walked along in silence. The moon was already high in the sky. Titian leaves blew along the street.
Lydia pointed to a ramshackle house.
‘That’s where I lived last year.’
Luca grimaced. ‘Nice.’
‘It was, actually. I had a great time there.’
‘Your new apartment is better by the looks of things,’ he said with a laugh.
Lydia laughed as well. ‘Not really. You should see my room – the paint is peeling off the walls and everything.’
There was a pause.
Oh my God, thought Lydia, I hope he didn’t think that was a come-on.
You should see my room. Lydia, think before you speak. Yet, Luca seemed miles away.
Ten minutes later they arrived at the city’s art centre. Big posters of Audrey Tatou, the star of Amélie, were pasted up on the walls.
‘I’m so excited!’ exclaimed Lydia in glee. ‘I’ve only ever seen this on the small screen.’
‘Yeah, great,’ agreed Luca lamely. He reached into his pocket and pulled out twenty euros.
‘I’ll get this,’ he said, taking his place in the queue.
‘No way!’ Lydia shook her head furiously. ‘I’ll get my own.’
‘Lyd, please, I’d like to –’
‘No. Then it’s like a date. Let’s pay our own way.’
‘Please? I invited you.’
‘Not at all. Let’s go Dutch.’
He relented. ‘Okay, you’re the boss.’
Lydia relaxed. This was weird enough without making it more complicated. Every fibre in her body was aware of him and so she knew that sitting in a darkened room for two hours was wrong. What would Dominic say if he knew? How would she feel if it were hi
m and some hot nurse going to the cinema together?
She pushed that unpleasant thought from her mind. He wouldn’t mind at all. There was trust between them; he would understand.
‘Come on,’ she said pulling his sleeve. ‘I want a good seat.’
Samantha bit into her toast. ‘So what happened then?’
‘Well,’ Lydia poured herself a cup of tea, ‘I expected him to be bored at a subtitled film – but turns out he speaks fluent French – I’d forgotten his father is French!’
‘Really? Makes him more exotic! So then what happened?’
‘He walked me home, we talked about college and then he left.’
‘He left?’ said Samantha, incredulously.
‘He left,’ repeated Lydia simply. ‘No funny business: nothing.’
‘So it looks like he’s over you then.’
Lydia blushed. ‘He was never into me, Sam. He’s just a natural-born flirt. Anyway, he’s actually really nice when you get past all the bravado.’
‘Does Dom know about you two?’
‘Not really. I mention his name but not too often. You know what men are like.’
Samantha looked at her friend thoughtfully. ‘Dom is cool, Lyd. He would never even think anything was up. Stay honest and everything will be okay.’
‘Honest?’ Lydia looked alarmed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m just saying, that’s all. We’re only human after all.’
Lydia shook her head vehemently. ‘Don’t even go there. I thought you knew me better than that.’
‘Calm down. Jeez, Lyd, I’m only saying. Life is never simple. Remember what Oscar Wilde said – you know that quote, the one about men and women.’
‘Yeah, yeah, between men and women there is no friendship possible – I remember.’
‘Well, just think about that sometimes. Okay, lecture over. I need to go and shave my legs before my date tonight.’
Lydia stretched. ‘I’m off to Dom’s later. It’s his mother’s birthday.’
‘Did you get her a present?’
‘A bunch of flowers.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘She’ll hate them. She always hates anything I give her.’
‘Are things any better?’
‘No.’ Lydia sighed. ‘She just doesn’t approve of me at all.’
Samantha frowned. ‘I can’t see why. You’re gorgeous, smart, Dom is mad about you ...’
‘It’s been like this since Day One. He’s her pet. I don’t think anyone would be good enough. Thank God we don’t go to Chez Maguire very often.’
Samantha tutted. ‘Don’t stress. Go for dinner, smile and it will all be over before you know it. Now I’m off to beautify myself.’
Dominic arrived at half five.
‘Lydia,’ he murmured as he pulled her into his arms.
She melted into his familiar embrace and sighed. It was only at these moments that she realised how much she missed him.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked. ‘Mum hates it when I’m late.’
‘All set.’
Lydia pulled out the hall door, jacket and flowers in hand.
‘They look nice,’ commented Dominic, regarding the multi-coloured blooms.
‘Do you think it will matter? She’ll hate them anyway.’
‘Lydia, please can we not do this?’ Dominic frowned.
‘Okay, okay, it’s just awkward. you know?’
‘She’s my mother and I love her. I know she can be difficult but can we just get through this evening?’
Lydia stopped dead. ‘I don’t see you for two weeks and straight away we’re fighting. Over her.’
Dominic pulled her into his arms again. ‘I know, I know, I’m sorry. Come on, let’s go, we can’t be late.’
Slightly mollified, Lydia got into his car.
Minutes later they were heading east out of the city. Dominic lived in Ballycotton, a small fishing village by the sea. Lydia gazed at the beautiful countryside as they whizzed past. The fields and farms were still visible, despite the darkening sky.
She knew it was madness to bitch, but Christine Maguire really got under her skin. She hated going to Dominic’s house and he knew it.
Try to stay calm, she told herself.
Dominic’s SLK pulled up outside an old stone house covered in ivy. Manor House was an 18th century mansion with vast grounds and a view of the ocean. Lydia pulled the rear-view mirror towards her to check her hair and make-up.
Christine Maguire was standing on the steps, waiting to greet her son.
‘Dominic! My darling!’ she said, pulling her eldest son into her fragranced embrace.
Lydia hung back as Christine kissed Dominic’s face over and over again. She was a striking woman: her clothes were immaculate and expensive, her long dark hair, streaked with grey, was piled up on top of her head, and her clear blue eyes were shrewd.
Lydia found her incredibly intimidating.
Eventually Christine acknowledged her presence.
‘And Lydia, a pleasure as always.’ Her face portrayed the opposite. She extended a hand festooned with diamond rings.
Lydia plastered a smile on her face. ‘Christine, lovely to see you too. Happy birthday.’
They kissed briefly before Christine swept Dominic inside to see the newly refurbished drawing room. Lydia followed slowly. She could not wait to go back to her own flat, even with its peeling walls and lack of heat. Dominic’s house was like a museum: it was incredibly beautiful, filled with priceless objects, but the impression given was very cold. She couldn’t imagine him as a child here. She much preferred the clutter of her own family home: the warmth and relaxed atmosphere were far more appealing.
Pulling out her phone, she sent a quick text to her mother.
Just arrived. Can’t wait 2 leave. Ring TMRW XXX
Seconds later her phone buzzed in reply.
Keep a clear head. Love U. X
Lydia grimaced. A clear head would be impossible with the Wicked Witch of the West.
‘Lyd? Come in here and see what Mum has done to the place.’
‘Coming.’
Dragging her feet a little, Lydia trudged into the drawing room. The once yellow walls were now a pale violet colour. The sofas had been upgraded to white leather and a walnut coffee table was perched on a white fur rug. It was simply the worst make-over she had ever seen.
‘It’s very …’ she searched for words, ‘nice?’
Christine scowled. ‘Taste is innate, dear, not acquired. I’m delighted with it.’
‘I said it was nice,’ retorted Lydia.
Dominic gave her a deliberate look.
‘I love the rug,’ she offered, gesturing loosely at the floor.
‘I’d hate to tell you what it cost.’ Christine winked at Dominic. ‘Daddy certainly doesn’t know.’
‘Doesn’t know what?’ boomed a voice from the hall.
Lydia brightened. Charles Maguire was a lovely man. An older version of his son, he had twinkly eyes and a shock of grey hair. He lacked the pretentions of his wife yet exuded class. Lydia adored him.
‘Lydia!’ he exclaimed when he walked in. ‘A pleasure to see you, it’s been so long.’
Lydia fell into his arms for a hug. ‘Hi, Charles – great to see you too,’ she said with genuine warmth. ‘How’s the golfing?’
‘Ten holes this evening.’
‘You had nice weather for it.’
Christine cleared her throat. ‘Right then, shall we eat? Marcus got some lovely monkfish today at the pier.’
Marcus, the Maguire family chef was a genius in the kitchen. Lydia’s stomach growled. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was. She followed Dominic and his parents into the dining room. The table was laid for a six-course meal. The silver gleamed on the white lace tablecloth.
Lydia took her place opposite Dominic.
‘Charles, darling, would you call the boys?’ said Christine.
‘Of course, pet.’ Charles popped his head aro
und the door and hollered. ‘Andrew? Harry? Dinner!’
‘Charles! Really, there are more civilised ways of doing things.’ There was a slight edge to Christine’s voice.
The door burst open and the twins erupted into the room.
‘Lydia!’ they shouted in unison. ‘Great to see you!’
Lydia giggled. Dominic’s seventeen-year-old twin brothers were a handful. Both were totally adorable, but undeniably hyperactive.
‘Hi, boys! How’s school?’
‘Awful,’ said Andrew, making a face.
‘Terrible,’ agreed Harry. ‘Fifth year is so hard. There’s so much homework.’
‘Napkin, Harry,’ Christine reproved him.
Mary, the housekeeper, arrived with the starters. She was an elderly woman who had looked after the Maguire family for two generations. Dominic got to his feet and took the large tray from her hands.
‘Let me help you,’ he said fondly.
‘Thank you, Dom,’ she said gratefully. Her arthritis always acted up in the cold weather. She was nearing seventy and was slowing down. Christine was eager to replace her with someone younger but Charles was having none of it. Mary had been there since he was a boy and she would remain.
With a shaking hand, she served plates of goat’s cheese salad with walnuts.
‘I’ll just get the bread,’ she said apologetically. ‘I left it on the kitchen counter.’
‘I can go,’ offered Dominic.
‘You will not,’ said Christine in an undertone. ‘That is not your job, darling.’
Mary shuffled away.
‘How’s college?’ Charles smiled at Lydia. ‘Are you snowed under with work?’
‘Hardly,’ snorted Christine before Lydia could answer. ‘It’s an English degree, Charles – hardly rocket science.’
‘And what did you do in university again?’ asked Lydia sweetly, knowing full well that Christine was a glorified housewife.
Dominic glared at Lydia. ‘Pass the wine, Andrew,’ he said pointedly, trying to change the subject.
‘College is great, Charles,’ said Lydia, taking a sip of Pouilly Fumé. ‘It’s busy but so interesting. I love all my modules.’