City Lives

by Patricia Scanlan

  How can you possibly go out and enjoy yourself and leave me in the lurch when I’m suffering? You should be suffering too!

  Caroline sighed. She was determined to enjoy her night out and not to feel guilty about it. But in spite of her best efforts, every so often guilt niggled, even though she knew it was completely irrational and misplaced.

  She climbed out of the pool, stepped into the poolside shower and let the jets cascade over her. Ten minutes in the sauna, ten minutes in the steam room and she felt like a new woman. She washed her hair, dried herself off, slipped into a towelling robe and strolled out of the pool area and up to the salon. One of the girls had promised to do her make-up for her.

  Olivia had phoned earlier in the day to tell her not to bother driving out of town to collect her at seven. Her child-minder had offered to come early, so Olivia would meet her from work in City Girl.

  Caroline had used the time for her swim and sauna and was feeling very relaxed by the time Olivia hurried in at six thirty.

  ‘God! The traffic is atrocious! Caroline, you look stunning! I’m not going out with you,’ she exclaimed in admiration at Caroline’s simple, superbly cut, black long-sleeved dress.

  ‘Don’t be daft! You look fantastic yourself. I love that trouser suit on you.’

  Olivia wore a tailored burgundy pure wool trouser suit. A rich black devoré scarf thrown casually around her neck gave the outfit an elegant finishing touch.

  ‘I don’t know what I’d do without swop shops,’ Olivia admitted. ‘I’d never own a “label” otherwise. My horoscope said my fortunes were changing. Do you think that means I’m going to meet a man tonight?’

  ‘Who knows?’ Caroline said lightly. ‘Maybe we both might. I wonder what mine said?’

  ‘I’d say it said something about buying property. Did you get the brochure I sent you? It’s for new apartments in Malahide. I know you’re not going to buy there, but it will give you an idea of what’s on the market and the prices that they’re going for. Your horoscope probably said something like “Saturn leaves Capricorn, Mercury is no longer retrograde and you are on the move.” Imagine still reading horoscopes at our age. There’s no hope for us.’ Olivia giggled.

  She had the most infectious giggle that Caroline had ever heard and she started to laugh herself. Her spirits lifted. It was going to be a good night and they were going to enjoy themselves.

  ‘Let’s hit the road,’ she suggested, very relieved not to be going home to Richard and his moods.

  They spent hours over their meal, gossiping, reviewing their current situations and flirting with the Adonis who was waiting on them.

  ‘He’s gorgeous!’ drooled Olivia. ‘Drop-dead gorgeous. I wonder is he married?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t,’ Caroline replied, admiring his neat ass and slim waist.

  ‘I don’t know about you, Caroline, but I really could do with a man sooner rather than later. I’m fierce lonely,’ Olivia confided.

  ‘At least you’ve got the children. I don’t have that comfort,’ Caroline sighed.

  ‘I know,’ Olivia said tipsily – she was on her fourth glass of red wine – ‘why don’t I just say the next time he comes to the table, “excuse me, Marco, but Caroline is in dire need of the juice of your loins. She needs bambinos.”’

  Caroline spluttered into her Aqua Libra. ‘Livy don’t you dare! You’re outrageous!’ she managed between snorts of laughter.

  ‘I’d love to see his face though. He’s a bit too aware of himself. Still, if I had buns like that I’d be aware of myself too.’ Olivia took another slug. ‘Look at us. Two beauties and not a man between us – well, you can’t really call Richard a man if you know what I mean. He’s a man, but not a man.’ She giggled again. ‘Sorry, Caroline, this wine’s gone to my head. I think I’m a bit pissed. It’s just that I haven’t been out in ages.’

  ‘Enjoy it,’ Caroline urged. ‘I wish I could have a glass with you. But going back on the sauce is the last thing I need.’

  ‘You need a man and so do I. A real man with all his faculties in order and no baggage and no addictions. Now that you’re finally coming out of purdah and getting the divorce there’s no excuse. We really should go out more often. So let’s try and start going out on the hunt at least once a week.’

  ‘Where will we meet them? I’m not into the pub scene,’ Caroline was dubious. ‘And let’s face it, Olivia, both of us come with baggage. In fact, I have excess baggage!’

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ Olivia dismissed that notion out of hand. ‘They’ll be so glad to have us, they’ll carry our baggage!’ she chortled.

  Caroline burst out laughing.

  ‘Now we want some nice rugged, lean, fit types,’ the irrepressible Olivia continued. ‘No more wimps in our beds! Down with wimps, I say. Wimp off, you wimp! We’re all wimped out. Now where do we find real men, you ask? We could join a hill-walking club or go orienteering, or canoeing or even parachuting,’ Olivia announced enthusiastically. ‘Just think of the mega hunks we’d meet. Broad shoulders, hairy chests, hard muscular thighs. Wouldn’t it be wonderful?’

  ‘You are pissed, Olivia. This is the same Olivia who’s afraid of flying! And the Olivia who took up badminton, played one game and never went back because it was “too energetic”,’ derided Caroline.

  ‘I’ve changed. I’m into sports now. I do ten minutes on the treadmill and ten minutes on the rowing-machine. I could hill-walk or canoe no problem,’ Olivia said expansively. ‘Maybe we’ll forget parachuting. A tad OTT,’ she punned.

  ‘We’ll have this conversation when you’re not under the influence.’ Caroline grinned.

  ‘Spoilsport,’ Olivia chided, waving at the divine Marco.

  He waved back and winked.

  ‘Did you see that?’ Olivia beamed. ‘He fancies me. We could have a threesome. You can have the juice of his loins. I’ll have his buns.’

  ‘We’re going home. It’s half eleven. You told me the child-minder has to be home by twelve mid-week,’ Caroline reminded her.

  ‘All right, Cinderella, if you insist,’ Olivia drained the last of her wine. ‘I really enjoyed myself,’ she declared.

  ‘Me too. It was fun. We’ll do it again soon,’ Caroline said warmly. Olivia was right. They should go out more often. She so enjoyed this sort of socializing. It was much more relaxing than Richard’s society bashes.

  They strolled back towards Stephen’s Green, laughing and chatting animatedly. Caroline had given Harry, City Girl’s car-park attendant, her spare keys and he’d parked the car for her opposite the Shelbourne when City Girl had closed. He’d left a message for her on her mobile to tell her its location.

  They had just passed the Shelbourne when a stocky, sallow-faced man greeted Caroline.

  ‘How are you, Caroline? What are you doing out on the town without Richard?’

  ‘Oh . . . Oh hi, Tony,’ she said politely. She didn’t really like Tony Macken, a legal crony of Richard’s. ‘Olivia, this is Tony Macken, Tony, Olivia O’Neill.’

  ‘Nice to meet you.’ He held out his hand to Olivia and held hers longer than was necessary, staring into her eyes.

  ‘Why don’t I bring you two girls into the Horseshoe Bar for a drink? It’s early yet. It’s the least I could do for Richard,’ he invited suavely.

  ‘Thanks, but Olivia has a babysitter and she has to be back. And I had a long day. I’m tired,’ Caroline explained.

  ‘Phone and say you’ll be late, you silly girl,’ he suggested chummily to Olivia. ‘And what’s this tired bit, Caroline? Don’t you work in that beauty place that costs an arm and a leg? Sure that’s a doddle. If you were battling judges all day you’d be tired. So stop making excuses. You beautiful girls can’t go home at this hour of the night. It’s preposterous. I insist you have at least one drink. And I won’t take no for an answer.’ He took Olivia by the arm.

  Olivia froze. ‘Excuse me,’ she said politely. ‘Let go of my arm. And could I just
say to you, you patronizing git, Caroline and I are not girls! We’re women. And were I to stay manless for the rest of my life, you’d still be the last type of condescending ignoramus I’d want to go for a drink with.’ She turned on her heel and marched across the road to Caroline’s car.

  ‘A bit pissed is she?’ Tony asked, gobsmacked.

  ‘You’re lucky she is,’ Caroline retorted furiously. ‘Because you got away lightly. But I’m not pissed, Tony. And you know something? She’s absolutely right! You’re rude, patronizing, and an ignoramus to boot. Goodnight, Tony.’

  ‘What’s up with you? PMT?’ Tony called nastily after her as she walked across the road to join Olivia.

  ‘Ignorant bastard!’ growled Olivia as she sat in the car beside Caroline. ‘Did you hear him? Did you hear him, Caroline? Girls! How dare he say your work is a doddle. Is he for real?’

  ‘Yes, unfortunately. We’ll probably get writs in the morning threatening to sue us for slander, libel and defamation of character or whatever it is they sue for.’ Caroline grimaced.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Caroline, the judge would take one look at him and one look at us and lock him up. In a mental asylum probably,’ she added for good measure.

  They guffawed, imagining the scenario.

  ‘I was proud of you, O’Neill. I bet Tony Macken has never been called a condescending git before,’ Caroline said in approval as she circled the Green.

  ‘Imagine being married to that! And we thought we had problems. Poor, poor Mrs Macken,’ Olivia said dryly. ‘The old saying is true, there is always someone worse off than you.’

  It was one of the most enjoyable nights out she’d had in a long time, Caroline reflected as she parked her car in the garage beside Richard’s, having dropped Olivia home. She yawned. She was looking forward to getting into bed.

  The light was on in the lounge, she saw with surprise, as she let herself into the penthouse. Her heart did a somersault. Maybe Mrs Yates had taken a turn for the worse and Richard was waiting up to tell her. Perhaps, when she’d been out enjoying herself, her mother-in-law had died.

  Caroline took a deep breath and prepared herself for the worst.

  Twenty

  ‘Richard, is everything all right? You’re up late,’ Caroline said hesitantly as she walked into the room.

  ‘What’s this?’ he demanded truculently, waving a large brown envelope at her.

  ‘What do you mean, what’s this?’ Caroline answered irritably. ‘How do I know? I haven’t opened it yet.’ Obviously Mrs Yates hadn’t died. But Richard was in a foul mood about something. She started getting annoyed. She’d just had a lovely evening. How mean of Richard to go and spoil it.

  ‘How can you be so selfish, Caroline?’ Richard jumped to his feet, startling her, as he thrust the brown envelope at her. ‘How can you be so self-centred as to consider moving out at a time like this? How typical of you. It’s all me, me, me. You alcoholics are all the same. Everything centres around you. It doesn’t matter what anyone else is going through. Your lives and your feelings are more important than anyone else’s. That’s what they teach you in AA, isn’t it? Put yourself first and to hell with everyone else,’ he ranted.

  ‘What is wrong with you? What’s this all about? Why are you saying these horrible things?’ Caroline was completely bewildered by his onslaught.

  ‘Don’t put on your little-Miss-Innocent act with me, Caroline. You’re just as sly and devious as anyone else out there. But I never thought you’d be so insensitive and so ungrateful, after all I’ve done for you. To go behind my back like this.’ He waved the brown envelope aggressively close to her face.

  ‘What are you talking about, Richard? I don’t know what you’re going on about.’ Caroline snatched the envelope from him. It was already opened. She pulled out a brochure and saw an apartment complex advertised for sale. She turned the envelope over and saw that it was from Murray & Murray Estate Agents and Auctioneers. It was addressed to her.

  Caroline was horrified. ‘You opened my post!’ she raged. ‘That envelope was addressed to me. How dare you, Richard! That’s outrageous. You’ve no business to do such a thing. What possessed you? How could you treat me with such a lack of respect? I can’t believe this.’ Caroline was so angry her voice was shaking.

  ‘Cut the crap, Caroline. The truth is you’re off sneaking around looking at places. What were you going to do, skulk off some day after I’d gone to work and when I came home you’d be gone? That’s what you were going to do, wasn’t it?’ Richard said furiously.

  ‘No it isn’t. You know very well that I wouldn’t do that, Richard. I told you I was going to leave. I’m not going to do anything behind your back. But I’m going. And I’m going to get a divorce. This marriage is over, Richard. If you could call it a marriage,’ she added bitterly.

  ‘You were damn glad to marry me when I asked you. You couldn’t get the ring on your finger fast enough,’ Richard retorted nastily.

  ‘You should never have asked me.’ Caroline rounded on him, equally angry. ‘You used me so that you could carry on your relationship with Charles. It was despicable, Richard. You ruined my life.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ he sneered. ‘You couldn’t wait to escape from the drudgery of looking after your father and your brothers in that crummy little house in Marino. I gave you a life of luxury—’

  ‘A life of luxury,’ Caroline scoffed. ‘But what else did I have? Nothing. No cherishing, no loving. And no sex. Imagine what that’s been like for me, Richard. You were all right. You had Charles. I had no-one.’

  ‘What about that sleazy foreigner you picked up in London?’ Richard said snidely. ‘And I’m sure you weren’t lonely in the Emirates. You married me because it suited you. So accept some responsibility for your actions and don’t lay all the blame on me.’

  Caroline felt a surge of pure hatred. It was so typical of Richard to play dirty if he felt he was losing an argument.

  ‘You beat the living daylights out of me, Richard. Don’t forget that,’ she yelled, wanting to hurt him just as he had hurt her. ‘You’re a wife-batterer. Should I accept responsibility for that? That was all my fault too, was it?’’

  ‘Shut up! Shut up about that. You love to rub my nose in it, don’t you. God Almighty I’ll be well rid of you,’ Richard snarled as he marched out of the room and gave the door a resounding slam.

  Caroline’s heart pounded so loudly she thought it was going to burst out of her chest. She felt faint after the unexpected vicious row. It had been brewing ever since Mrs Yates had suffered her heart attack, nevertheless Caroline was stunned by the ferocity of his anger and resentment. All the old wounds had been ripped open. The bad old days were back with a vengeance.

  Caroline knew what was wrong with him. He was feeling out of control. Richard was such a controller. Now his mother had put paid to his future and he was going to be tied to her and to his firm, and it looked to him as though she, his only support, was walking away from him. She who had always deferred to him, was no longer deferential. He had lost his power over her too.

  She had to move on, Caroline told herself yet again. She wasn’t the timid, fearful, pathetic young girl he had married, any more. He couldn’t handle that. Timid and deferential had suited him down to the ground because he’d never had that before and it made him feel powerful and strong. Sarah Yates had a lot to answer for, Caroline thought viciously. Tears welled up in her eyes. Why was this happening? Hadn’t she learned enough through misery? When did the lessons come through joy? Serenity? She’d paid her dues and struggled to get her life back on an even keel. Why, when things had seemed to be going right, should it all go so wrong?

  Richard was so angry he wanted to lash out and smash something. With great difficulty he resisted the urge to pick up the Belleek china bowl of potpourri on the hall table and fling it against the long narrow mirror on the opposite wall. He slammed his bedroom door and threw himself on the bed.

  ‘Fucking bitch!�
�� he muttered viciously. ‘Poxy, fucking, ungrateful cow.’

  Why did she have to throw it in his face that he’d hit her? Why couldn’t she forget that it was all in the past? He’d felt like hitting her tonight, he raged. If he had stayed in the room any longer he would have. It would have been so satisfying to shut her mouth with a punch and watch the fear ignite in her eyes. Then she might have a bit more respect for him. Nobody gave a shit about him or his feelings. Not his mother, not Caroline, no-one. He felt like a nothing.

  If Mangan and the rest of the law library lot saw him now, how they would revel in his misery. He wasn’t particularly liked among his peers. He knew that. He was too ambitious. Too successful. Too envied. He could see behind their façade of hearty handshakes and hail-fellow-well-met crap. Little did they know, he thought sorrowfully. His life was a shambles. A disaster. And what had he got to look forward to?

  Nothing.

  Twenty-one

  ‘Devlin, I’ve just had a call from a very irate woman in Galway, complaining that she’s tried three times to book in for a full-body aromatherapy massage and she hasn’t been able to get an appointment for a month. She claimed it’s because all the manageress’s friends are getting cheapies and there isn’t room for anyone else. According to her, it’s well known in Galway that if you know Ciara Hanlon, she’ll look after you. She was hopping mad. I’ve told her I’ll get back to her,’ Liz informed her boss just as Andrew Dawson walked into Devlin’s office.

  ‘What was that?’ the accountant asked sharply.

  Liz looked at Devlin. She nodded and once again Liz relayed the message.

  ‘I’ll look into it today, Liz,’ Devlin responded calmly but her eyes were on Andrew. He looked troubled.

  ‘Fine.’ Liz closed the door quietly and went back to her desk.

  ‘What’s wrong, Andrew?’ Devlin asked.

  ‘We have a problem, Devlin. It’s very interesting that that call should come today. I’ve just been going through Galway’s figures and comparing them with Dublin and Belfast for the last quarter. And something’s not right. They’re ordering double the amount of creams, waxes, oils and so on, but their figures don’t tally. And the overheads are marginally higher than before. Electricity, heating and so on. I think there’s a scam going on.’