Girl Descending (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 2)

by Jenny O'Brien

  ‘What - so you think I should only wear green like the rest of the non-red haired human race.’

  ‘Did I say that?’

  ‘No, but it’s what you thought – it’s what everyone thinks. I like pink – live with it.’

  ‘So,’ he paused, his hand still on the edge of her top. ‘Are you not getting a tad hot in that fleece?’

  ‘Now that you mention it….’ She met his gaze. ‘No funny business or you’re out!’

  Reaching behind her neck she eased the offending top off and flung it on the floor.

  ‘That’s better.’

  ‘It certainly is. His eyes careful to avoid the hilly curves, now visible under her plain black t-shirt. If he shifted his hand a couple of centimetres his fingers would touch one of the soft squidgy swells. He swallowed the sudden rock in his throat and moved his eyes deliberately towards the fire again. He’d stared at it so long he could even tell exactly how many lumps of coal were burning bright in the encroaching darkness. It was lovely sitting by the light of the flames and the couple of candles Freddie had cheekily placed on the table on her way out. If she hadn’t been half sitting on him he’d have felt his eyelids droop.

  She’d settled back down into the curve of his shoulder, her hair tickling his cheek, her shampoo assailing his nostrils.

  ‘You’re a good doctor, they’ll miss you.’

  ‘No they won’t, and anyway I’ll be responsible for training a whole new raft of emergency doctors, which will be a lot more satisfying.’

  Placing a brief kiss on her cheek he continued. ‘So, what about you? Why Dublin, Why St Justin’s?’

  ‘Funnily enough I was born here. St Justin’s was the first place to employ me from the agency. I’d have gone anywhere as long as it wasn’t Cork.’ She closed her eyes, but only briefly, her long pale lashes splayed out across her skin. ‘It’s a great team you’ve managed to set up, although I see what you mean about Aiden – he’s certainly got his finger on the pulse as well as into every pie. If he doesn’t know about it, it hasn’t happened yet.’

  He laughed then. ‘Yep, that’s Aiden, although he doesn’t know about us yet.’

  ‘What’s to know?’ She quipped back.

  He wasn’t going to answer that. There was lots he could say on the subject, in fact he could write a whole book, a trilogy of books. If he didn’t have a singing voice resembling that of a constipated donkey he’d try a song, a serenade, or perhaps even a poem. Yeah that was a good idea; he’d write a poem - a decent one with rhymes and all. He’d been good at rhyming couplets at school.

  Or he could just borrow one. There was the one he’d learnt at school by that Lord Byron chappie.

  ‘She walks in beauty, like the night.’

  He smiled to himself, remembering his first thoughts at the sight of her. It would need to be a bloody dark night to make her seem pretty. She’d probably think he was taking the piss or something and she’d have been right – then. In fact to misquote Jane Austen, for days now he’d viewed her as the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. Not an hour went by, either waking or sleeping that his thoughts didn’t veer her way and now it seemed as if he was only truly happy in her presence. He shuffled his glasses up his nose, trying to remember a time he hadn’t known her – he couldn’t.

  Instead of trying to reply he decided to answer her question with a question of his own, one with hopefully a much more favourable response.

  ‘I was going to visit Mr McDade tomorrow in his new flat, fancy joining me; we could grab a bite to eat after?’

  ‘As in a boyfriend; girlfriend date, or as in a just good friend’s kinda date?’

  ‘Grainne, I’ve been perfectly honest with you, and I haven’t asked for anything in return but…’ He took his glasses off and handed them to her with a smile. ‘I don’t want to be your friend,’ pausing then. ‘No, I do want to be your friend but… If you don’t like me in that way just tell me. You don’t have to worry about my feelings. I need to know.’

  Rolling her body towards him she reached up and put his glasses back on his nose, fumbling a little to get them just right behind the ears, her fingers lingering against his hair.

  ‘How could I not like you, you’re Dr Roar.’

  She moved then; quickly, too quickly for him to do more than regret her absence - his knees, his body suddenly bereft.

  ‘There’s a time and a place for everything doctor and…,’ throwing a look at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Midnight, when we’re both on earlies isn’t it!’ Reaching for his hand she pulled him to his feet. ‘Come on, old man. I’ll make sure you make it to the door.’ She added, throwing a saucy smile over her shoulder.

  ‘I’ll give you old man…..’

  ‘Down boy! If you’re very good I’ll give you a goodnight kiss.’

  ‘What, just one.’ He grumbled, but with a smile. She hadn’t said she loved him, but that was okay. He would put up with like for now. ‘I’m a deprived man.’

  ‘Mm, very deprived.’ She pulled the front door open and, with one hand on his chest raised her head up for the briefest of kisses before pushing him outside, the door closing behind him with a resounding click.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  ‘Well there’s a happy surprise, my two favourite people come to visit me. Come in, come in and make yourself at home.’ He said, beckoning over his shoulder, his slippers flip flapping on the laminate flooring.

  ‘Hello Norm, what a beautiful flat you’ve got here.’ She said, throwing a quick frown at Ruari before continuing. ‘I’ve made you a cake. I hope you like cherry?’

  ‘Do I ever.’ He turned to Ruari. ‘She certainly knows the way to a man’s stomach Doc.’ He added, taking hold of the blue polka dot cake tin.

  ‘Call me Ruari. That she does. You should try her soda bread, it’s to die for.’

  ‘I bet it is,’ his eyes gleaming. ‘Grainne, my love what about making a pot of tea and slicing up this cake? I’d ask er Ruari, but girls are always better at slicing cake.’

  She made her way into the kitchen, casting a smile at the new pristine white cupboards and bright assortment of mugs, surprisingly the exact same as those she’d drunk out of at Ruari’s house. She smelt a rat, a very large rat or should that be lion? The flat was well situated, close to all the amenities but still set within the security of a sheltered housing organisation, but it wasn’t like any other independent living facility she’d ever been in. All the furniture was brand spanking new, as was the kitchen and she knew if she poked her nose into the bathroom she’d find sparkling new fittings there as well.

  She found a tray nestling beside the microwave and within no time had added the cake, now cut into manly sized chunks and three mugs of tea.

  ‘Here I’ll take that.’ Ruari met her at the door and, with a brief glance took the tray and placed it in front of Norm before joining him on the brand new sofa.

  ‘So how are you settling in then Norm?’ She asked, staring at the plain white walls with a smile before perching on the edge of the matching blue velveteen chair.

  ‘It’s grand my girl, I couldn’t be happier.’

  ‘I see the police managed to get your TV back then.’ She said, gesturing to the large forty inch flat screen on the wall.

  ‘Get over.’ He said on a laugh, looking across at the suddenly embarrassed looking man opposite. ‘That’s all thanks to Ruari here. He’s just taken delivery of something larger, although why he’d want a larger TV than this beast is beyond me.’

  ‘Ah well, it will save him on having to dump it now, won’t it? Let’s just hope it doesn’t blow up or something, him giving you his cheap cast-offs and all.’ She replied, but with a grin to take the sting out of her words. Taking a bite out of her cake she remembered the lack of television in his house now and his comment about not having time to watch it.

  God, he was such a nice man, a good man. She’d be as well just to take him up on his offer and be done with it. Nothing lasted forever but while it
did…. She was suddenly reminded of Sorcha’s words:-

  ‘The sex would be amazing and he’d treat her like a princess.’

  What more could a girl ask for? She didn’t believe in fairy tales anymore. She had little use for the made up stories that always ended in a happy ever after. It wasn’t so as a child, she remembered, her eyes drawn to the mantelpiece before settling on the old fashioned black and white photo showing a much younger Norm and presumably Mairead looking glorious decked out in all their wedding finery. Then, as a pale lost child rescued by her gran she’d clung to the fantastic tales of knights in shining armour, of frogs turning into princes, of dreams coming true. Her dream had come true that day when her grandmother had taken her to live with her in Cork. That dream had shrivelled with her relapse and died at Simon’s hands. But glancing across at Ruari, arms raised mid description of something or other, perhaps it hadn’t died completely. Perhaps it had just been lying dormant all this time, biding awhile until until…… He was the closest to Prince Charming she’d be likely to get.

  She picked up her tea, her mouth suddenly dry despite the moistness of the cherry sponge. After one sip she rested back in the chair, her mug cradled between her hands like a child. The tea didn’t just moisten her throat making swallowing again a possibility, it warmed and soothed like only a decent cuppa could. She concentrated on sipping the still hot liquid having deliberately tuned out of Ruari and Norm’s conversation with a quirk of an eyebrow. When two men came together the conversation invariably turned to football – She was far too wrapped up in her own fairy tale to take even a passing interest in Chelsea’s form at this the start of the season.

  Was she too old to try and chase her dream? Was she too old to follow her heart and be damned with the consequences? Twenty eight wasn’t too old was it?

  She smiled then, at first to herself but then across at the two men opposite, her whole face lit from within. She didn’t notice the brief lull in their conversation, she didn’t notice the way Ruari’s hand shook as he settled his mug down on the table, she didn’t notice the knowing look that suddenly appeared on their host’s face.

  It was Norm who broke into the unexpected silence. ‘Well thanks for coming to see me; I hope it will be the first of many.’

  She stood up and, walking over to him placed a brief hand on his shoulder. ‘You just try and stop me.’ Bending down she placed a brief kiss on his cheek, before turning to Ruari.

  ‘He’s promised to feed me, but knowing him it will be fish and chips in front of his new telly.’

  ‘Hark at her.’ Ruari stood and stretched before throwing a casual arm around her shoulders. ‘You’ll have Norm believing I’m a cheapskate when I’ve booked us into one of the best restaurants in Dublin, although I’ll have to drop you off so you can get changed first.’ He added, throwing a glance at her black leggings and t-shirt. ‘I thought we could go dancing afterwards as we’re both days off tomorrow.’

  ‘What if I don’t have anything to wear, it’s not as if I expected to be wined and dined?’ She threw at him, her mind frantically scrolling through the small hoard of clothes she’d brought with her. She had a house full of clothes for every occasion back in Kinsale, but with having lost all that weight she hadn’t bothered with most of it. There was little apart from a pile of t-shirts and jeans and of course her shoe collection – she couldn’t bear to part with those. They were her old friends, each lovingly wrapped in tissue paper and stored in their original boxes. She’d never bothered to count how many pairs she owned, if she did she might feel too embarrassed to buy any more and what would be the point of that!

  ‘That’s a likely story if ever I heard one. You girls always have something to wear.’ He glanced at Norm for support.

  ‘Don’t look at me son; I’m staying out of it.’

  ‘What about that green thing you wore at the wedding, that’ll do surely?’

  She didn’t even bother to reply to such a stupid comment. In fact there was little point in going out with someone who thought that rancid green dress would do. Instead she made her way to the door, her back ramrod straight as she continued to review the contents of her wardrobe. She missed the wry smile just as she missed the mouthed ‘Good Luck’ passing between the two men as she fiddled with turning the door knob her mind weighing up the benefits of pink over purple, or indeed red!

  The evening was a success, but it was never going to be anything less. She’d psyched herself up to be wined and dined by this lovely man as she’d sat across from him in Norm’s little sitting room. She’d prepared herself to accept his overtures, to accept him as a boyfriend – if he’d still have her. She’d prepared herself for another shot at that fairy tale – the one where the frog turned into a princess.

  He’d driven her to Freddie’s with strict instructions to be ready within the hour and she’d made it by the skin of her teeth. She didn’t have time to dry her hair so, brushing out all the days’ tangles she plaited it instead so it draped over one shoulder. Clothes were more of a problem being as he seemed to dislike pink and she hated green. After much thought she finally decided on a purple and turquoise hippy skirt she’d picked up at Oxfam, the same Oxfam she’d donated her wedding dress to but she wasn’t thinking about that. She had more important things to think about like what shoes to wear. Bright purple satin heels from Monsoon finally won the day. She’d spotted them in the window months before and had queued for hours in the wind and the hail to be first in line to grab them: Six inch satin spikes that in the wrong hands could easily be used as a weapon. Her heart beat a little faster as she’d unwrapped them from their tissue paper cocoon. Slipping them over silk covered feet made her feel like a million dollars and it certainly did wonders for her legs. He wouldn’t stand a chance with weapons like these, although she was still undecided as to whether she’d let him see the rest of her armoury. The shoes were a necessity, not an item of battle dress in the art of seduction. He’d said dancing - she at least wanted to look him in the neck if the eye was out of the question. An hour was too short notice to go in search for stilts!

  She matched her outfit with a plain purple body hugging t-shirt, simply because the skirt and the shoes needed no further embellishment. She hadn’t worn jewellery since she’d dropped her engagement ring into one of the collection boxes clogging up the till at her local supermarket; she couldn’t remember which charity, it wasn’t important in the scheme of things.

  She was waiting with only seconds to spare when he pulled up outside in the car. Thank God for the car, she thought patting an anxious hand to her plait.

  Freddie stood at the front door waving them off with all the enthusiasm of an anxious father sending his daughter off for a night of passion with the most disreputable bloke on the block. They’d pulled away from the curb laughing and the laughs had continued for the remainder of the evening.

  Dinner and dancing was at Johnnie Fox’s renowned pub situated up a quiet lane on the outskirts of Dublin. As soon as they’d walked into the dimly lit interior she knew she was going to love it. They spent a busy few minutes sitting in the little alcove beside a blazing log fire debating the merits of Dublin Bay prawns over Atlantic ones, both deciding in the end for arguments sake to opt for organic Angus beef served with rosemary and thyme roasted vegetables, scallion mash and stout gravy. Pudding was even more difficult with Ruari trying to entice her to try the carrageen moss mousse with toffee sauce but she was having none of it. Once she’d spotted the baked cocoa chocolate pot she was lost.

  Ruari, plumping for the Irish cheese board watched the sheer delight as each spoonful disappeared with alarming speed and gusto before turning back to his coffee. He’d allowed himself just half a pint of Guinness because he was driving, but that was enough. He had champagne on ice at home just in case she decided to burn off any of those chocolate calories later.

  The music was Irish, loud and foot tappingly enticing. They were soon swinging around between the tables with the rest of the customers,
that is until the clock shifted and the pace slowed. Her head had found that little dip just below his chin and arms wrapped around each other they swayed to the sound of ancient Irish love songs, not hearing any of the words. The kiss when it came was long and chaste, more of a promise than an execution.

  After the heat the icy cold of an early September Irish evening was a shock. Huddled up in jackets they ignored the clear inky blackness of the sky as they all but ran to the car and made their way in silent accord to Sandycove.

  The country lanes around Kilternan were deserted at that time of night apart from the tawny owl flying past their window in a whoosh of serious intent. Heading towards the coast they drove through a sleepy Dalkey before making their way to his house. Switching off the engine the air was suddenly thick with anticipation and uncertainty. Neither wanted the night to end: neither wanted the night to begin.

  ‘Fancy a swim?’

  Grainne, somnolent from the drive cranked open one eye before determinedly closing it again.

  ‘You’re half cracked! Be Jesus I’m with a maniac. Isn’t it mid-September, well after midnight and me without me bathers.’ Curling up her legs she snuggled under the car rug he’d wrapped over her knees earlier. ‘I’ll wait for you here, shall I?’

  ‘No you don’t.’

  Before she knew it she found herself being lifted out of the car and carried to the front door.

  ‘Hey, that’s a mean trick.’ Her voice muffled by the thick tweed of his jacket pressed up against her face.

  ‘Shush woman. My keys are in my left pocket, but be very careful - I might drop you if your hands er start wandering.’

  ‘In your dreams!’

  The door eventually open she found herself being carried up to the spare bedroom and dumped unceremoniously across the virgin white bedspread.