In front of her, a couple, their two young children and a frisky little cocker spaniel were having fun as they skimmed stones on top of the waves.
‘Mammy, Mammy look,’ the younger child cried as the dog barked encouragement when she threw a stone as far as she could. The man gave his wife a hug as she stood cheering.
Caroline walked past them and tried not to feel envious. That little tableau made her feel that her own life was very empty. When she’d married Richard she’d always imagined that they’d have children. A happy family life had been her dream. Maybe hers was to be a life without children, and if that was the case she just had to put up with it. Perhaps it was a blessing anyway that she’d never conceived a child with Richard. The poor child wouldn’t have grown up in a very happy environment. Perhaps when she and Richard finally went their separate ways there’d be a relationship there for her. Who knew what would happen? Optimism surged. She could go to a fortune-teller. She hadn’t been to one in ages.
Caroline smiled to herself as she walked along past the golf club. At least she was rid of Mrs Yates. She was very proud of the way she’d stood up to her mother-in-law. The old Caroline wouldn’t have done that. And she was proud of Richard for having the guts to tell her that he was going to live his own life.
She was definitely going to find somewhere new to live. A total break with the past was called for. It would be nice to have a place of her own. A place she could decorate as she pleased. It wasn’t the best time to be buying property. Prices were horrendous but she had a good salary and some savings behind her, she wouldn’t have any trouble getting a mortgage. If Richard wanted to sell the penthouse, that was his business. It was his, lock stock and barrel, and always had been. She wouldn’t be making any claims against him for it. If he wanted to keep it as a place of his own, that was up to him. If America didn’t work out and he came home it would still be there for him, but she wouldn’t be living in it.
She knew that he wouldn’t like the idea of selling the penthouse. Caroline knew that in the back of his mind he’d like her to keep living there so that he could always come back. But that wasn’t on the cards.
Closure! Wasn’t that what the Americans called it? Well, closure was what she wanted and today had been the start of it for her.
She watched a plane descending slowly out of the clouds, gliding low across the sea, and then over the suburbs on its final approach to Dublin airport. She felt energized looking at it. There was nothing to stop her taking a trip to London or Paris some weekend if the fancy took her. She’d be a free agent. She could come and go as she pleased. In time she could even go and visit Richard in Boston if she wished. The joy of it. If she wished. It was all going to be about her now. For the first time in her life. She smiled broadly. An elderly man coming in the opposite direction smiled back at her. Caroline felt almost giddy. Today was the start of the rest of her life and it was going to be a good life, she promised herself. She felt ravenous. There was a little café opposite the entrance to the Bull Wall, she’d buy herself the paper and have lunch and a relaxing read. That was a very laid-back, Single-Woman-About-Town kind of thing to do, Caroline assured herself. After all, she’d spent this type of day before when she and Richard had separated the first time and it hadn’t been too lonely.
She got back home about an hour and a half later, well pleased with herself. The light on the answering machine flashed impatiently. Obviously Richard wasn’t home. Caroline pressed the play button and shrugged herself out of her coat.
‘Mother’s had a heart attack, Caroline. It’s serious. She might not survive. What in the name of God did you say to her? And why don’t you carry your mobile with you? What’s the point in having one if you don’t use it?’ Richard’s frantic voice punctuated the silence of the penthouse.
Caroline’s hand flew to her mouth in horror. This wasn’t happening. It was a nightmare. When Mrs Yates had stalked out in high dudgeon she’d looked perfectly healthy, if somewhat flushed. How could Richard now be saying that she might be going to die? And worse, that it was her fault.
‘The bitch, the old bitch,’ she muttered as tears welled up in her eyes. What a typically spiteful thing for her to go and do. And how disloyal of Richard to blame it on her. It was true what they said about blood being thicker than water, Caroline thought despairingly. His mother and her opinions and feelings had always meant far more to Richard than she ever had. He simply couldn’t see how controlled he was by her. She could see it clearly, but then she’d had the benefit of counselling and therapy. She’d read many books about dependency and co-dependency, but Richard never wanted to know when she tried to talk to him about it.
That was why she’d been so excited for him when he’d decided to sell up and go and create a new life in Boston. She’d felt that she’d finally got through. He’d started to take responsibility for his own life and let go of his false sense of duty and obligation to his mother. But having heard him on the answering machine Caroline had the utterly disheartening feeling that he wasn’t interested in changing, even though he paid it lip-service.
Might it not dawn on her thoroughly selfish and immature husband that he might have caused his mother’s heart attack? But Richard would never take responsibility for that. He’d be far more inclined to let her shoulder the blame . . . and the guilt. That was quite obvious from the message on the answering machine. The sooner she was divorced the better, Caroline thought bitterly.
She walked into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. It was crazy even to think that one or other of them had caused Sarah’s heart attack, she thought glumly. That was wrong thinking. Guilt stuff. She should ring Richard, she supposed. Find out what hospital Mrs Yates was in. See if she needed a case packed.
Reluctantly she dialled Richard’s mobile number. It went straight into divert. Caroline took a deep breath.
‘Hi, Richard, it’s me. I’m at home. Do you want me to get any night clothes and toiletries for your mother? Call me when you can.’
She hung up, heavy-hearted. He must be in the coronary care unit if his phone was turned off. Was Mrs Yates alive or dead? It would solve a lot of problems if she were dead. Caroline couldn’t help the callous thought that sprang to mind. There’d be no more hassle about the divorce.
If she survived, she’d milk it for the rest of her days. Would Richard be strong enough to stick to his guns? Caroline didn’t dare to think about it. All she was sure of was that the next few days were going to be hell.
There was no word from him within the next two hours. Caroline knew that he must have checked his messages. How mean of him to keep her hanging on. It wouldn’t have taken five minutes to call her. He was obviously very angry with her. Had Mrs Yates regained consciousness and regaled him with a whole pack of lies? Knowing her mother-in-law, Caroline wouldn’t put it past her, she thought agitatedly as she paced the lounge for the umpteenth time.
Unable to wait another minute, she dialled Richard’s number again. Again it went into divert. ‘Richard, please call.’ Her message was terse.
Ten minutes later he rang.
‘Why did it take you so long to call me back, Richard? I phoned two hours ago,’ Caroline snapped, fraught. ‘Is your mother all right?’
‘I was in the CCU. You’re not allowed to have your phone on there. She’s stable at the moment. The next seventy-two hours are critical,’ Richard said testily.
‘What hospital is she in?’
‘The Mater.’
‘Do you want me to pack a case and bring in nightdresses and toiletries?’
‘No. I can collect them tomorrow. She doesn’t need them yet.’ His tone was anything but friendly.
‘Do you want me to come in?’ Caroline asked.
There was silence for a moment. Then Richard said coldly, ‘No Caroline. I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘I don’t have to go in and see your mother. I just thought you might like some support.’ Caroline tried to keep the edge of irritation
out of her voice.
‘I’m fine, thank you. I’ll see you when I see you. Bye.’ Richard clicked off.
Caroline stood staring at the dead receiver. Hurt. After all they’d been through. After all she’d forgiven him for, and he could still treat her like this. She knew what was wrong with him. If his mother lived he was going to back out of everything. He wasn’t going to sell the firm. Divorce was out and he was going to try and lay the blame at her feet. Well, fuck him! She wasn’t putting up with it. She was going and he could do what he liked and go to hell.
Frustration engulfed her. For a moment she thought of the vodka in the drinks cabinet. One lovely sharp cold vodka and tonic. Would one make such a difference? How many times had she asked herself the same old question. It was too big a risk to take. Caroline walked out of the room, away from temptation. She went into her bedroom and took a well-thumbed little yellow book from her bedside locker. It was called The Game of Life and in its pages she’d found inspiration and solace every time she opened it. She lit a scented candle, put on some soft music and tried to find calmness and peace in the depths of her being. She knew that she was going to need all her inner strength and resources to face what lay ahead.
Richard sat looking at his waxen-faced mother. In the hospital bed attached to monitors and hooked up to drips she looked very frail and small. Shrivelled, almost. Her face, without her false teeth, was pinched and puckered like a walnut shell. It was hard to believe that this was the same woman who had taken him to task so sternly that morning.
She’d been fine when he’d left her, just hours ago. Angry, certainly. But there’d been nothing wrong with her physically, he assured himself.
Whatever had happened to her had happened when she’d gone to see Caroline. Mrs Gleeson had phoned him, panic-stricken, to say that she’d collapsed in the car on the way home from visiting his wife and had been taken into the Mater in an ambulance. When he’d quizzed her about why she’d gone to see Caroline, the housekeeper had informed him that she hadn’t a clue but that she’d been very agitated before she went and twice as agitated when she got back in the car after the visit.
It was a bad heart attack. If she had another one within the next seventy-two hours she wouldn’t survive it. The doctor seemed to have no doubts on that score. If she made it through the next few days she’d need bypass surgery. However, her constitution was strong, she was fit and thin and that was in her favour, the doctor had informed him kindly.
He couldn’t go and put the firm up for sale on Monday now. Not the way things were. Unless, of course, she died. She wouldn’t give a damn then. Or would she come back and haunt him?
Richard buried his head in his hands. Only this morning he’d wished death on her and now it was hovering, ready to take her. He felt deeply, deeply guilty. Why did she have to have a bloody heart attack? He never had any luck, he thought sorrowfully. If she died he’d feel guilty for the rest of his life. If she didn’t, he was stuck here. There was no way he could take off to America if she was going to have a bypass. Even if she recovered from that he wouldn’t be able to leave. The fear of her having another attack would always be there. Damn Caroline for whatever she’d said. She must have caused a hell of a scene to get Sarah so worked up. It was all this weird New Age codology that Caroline was into now. All those strangely titled books. Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway; Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus; Anatomy of the Spirit. She always had her nose stuck in a book these days and she was getting very peculiar ideas.
God knows what she’d said to his mother. Caroline wouldn’t be at all happy when she heard that he was putting off selling the firm. He knew she was anxious to have things settled between them. But what could he do? He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Surely Caroline would be able to see his dilemma. She’d just have to have patience. Everything hinged on whether his mother lived or died. It was out of his hands now.
Caroline heard the ping of the lift bell and knew Richard was in the foyer waiting for the lift to descend. It was twelve thirty p.m. She’d been lying in bed unable to sleep, waiting for him to come home. Would he knock on her door and come in to her? She’d deliberately left the door ajar so that he could see that the light was still on. Would he be confrontational and abusive, or cold and sulky? Or by some miracle would he have calmed down and seen sense?
Her fingers curled tightly in her palms in an unconscious act of tension. She almost held her breath as she heard Richard open the front door. She listened as he locked the door behind him and walked into the kitchen. She heard him open the fridge door and a cupboard. Moments later he switched off the light and she heard him walking down the hall. Her heart sank as he marched past her bedroom and into his own.
So . . . it was to be the cold huffy silence. The freeze-out that could last for weeks. He wouldn’t tell her what was going on. She wouldn’t know whether he was staying or going. He wouldn’t discuss Sarah’s illness. If she died, he’d hold it against her and somehow, as usual, in his eyes, everything would be all her fault. He’d accept responsibility for nothing.
How long would she have to put up with it? If this went on for months what was she expected to do? How could she make plans? She bit her lip. Should she go in and ask him how Sarah was? Or would he reef her out of it and once again accuse her of causing his mother’s heart attack?
Caroline lay back against her pillows. She was weary. She’d already had one draining confrontation with Sarah, she didn’t want another with Richard. Maybe it was better to sleep on it and see what the morning brought.
She slept fitfully and was awake around seven. She lay quietly in the snug little hollow of her bed. Richard was always an early riser, today she wanted to be up before him so that he couldn’t sneak off without speaking to her.
When she heard the sound of his shower running she slipped out of bed and wrapped her dressing-gown around her. She went down to the kitchen, filled the kettle, and began to prepare the breakfast.
Twenty minutes later Richard appeared, showered and dressed.
‘Morning,’ Caroline said easily.
‘Morning.’ His tone was cool.
‘How’s your mother?’ The question hung in the air between them. Richard didn’t answer. He picked up the glass of orange juice she had poured for him and gulped it down. Then he began to butter a croissant.
‘Richard, I asked how’s your mother?’ Caroline repeated, trying not to get angry.
Richard put his knife back on the plate and stared at her. ‘Do you really care, Caroline? What did you say to her yesterday that sent her out of here in such a state? Mrs Gleeson said she was trembling.’
‘Richard that’s not fair! And don’t do this to me. Did you ask me what did she say to upset me? Your mother treated me with total disrespect yesterday . . . and, may I add . . . you too. I even stood up for you. I shouldn’t have wasted my breath. You know I hope I never see your mother again, but I wouldn’t wish harm on her. That’s why I asked how she was.’
‘Well she’s not very good, actually. And you probably will never see her again,’ Richard said sulkily. ‘So that will be a wish come true, won’t it,’ he added nastily.
‘Grow up, Richard,’ Caroline snapped. ‘Are you putting the business up for sale tomorrow?’
Richard stared at her in disgust. ‘How crass, Caroline. This isn’t the time to think of things like that. My mother is dying!’
‘And if she recovers?’ Caroline asked tartly. She knew she was being bitchy but she couldn’t help herself.
‘Look, I have to postpone things for a while, to see what way it goes. I’m not that selfish. Surely even you can understand that.’
‘Listen, Richard, I understand that you have to postpone your plans for a while. I just hope for your sake as well as for mine that you’re not going to change your mind about going to America. But if you do, and if you decide to stay here, I think it’s only fair to tell you that I’m going for the divorce even if you decide to chicken out.’
‘Thanks for that! Just what I needed today. Your timing as usual is impeccable. You’re as self-centred as ever. You haven’t one ounce of sympathy towards my mother.’ Richard glared at her, bristling with hostility.
‘I just want you to remember that I’m in this equation too . . . that’s all, Richard.’ Caroline turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen. Her lower lip trembled.
‘Don’t you dare cry,’ she muttered as she hurried towards her bedroom. She was angry, frustrated and pissed off. This was not all about Richard and his precious mother. Why could Richard never see that? How come her needs and feelings were judged of no importance? And always had been in their marriage.
This was about her, too. Why should she feel bad about that? She had every right to put her feelings forward for consideration. But because she had, Richard had accused her of being self-centred and unsympathetic. If he’d been approachable and civil when she’d asked about his mother, she wouldn’t have brought up the subject of his plans or postponement of them until he had broached it. But he’d been cold and huffy and she knew from bitter past experience that that was his favourite ploy when he wanted to be evasive and avoid difficult decisions. It was a way he used to undermine her and keep her off balance until he was ready to make choices and decisions.
Caroline breathed deeply and tried not to feel like an insensitive bitch. Maybe she’d gone in a bit too strong. When was the right time to stand up for yourself? This carry-on could continue for weeks, months, if Sarah recovered. Her mother-in-law was pulling all the strings as usual, even on her sickbed, Caroline thought bitterly.
She had the feeling that Richard was half glad of the excuse to postpone selling up. He was too afraid to make his leap of faith and move on, she recognized sadly. If she wasn’t careful, his fear would hold her back and she’d never get on with her life. This wasn’t all about Richard. This was about her, too. But it looked like she was going to have to make the break on her own.
City Lives Page 6