If the Shoes Fit

by Pauline Lawless

  “How can I? He’s in Brussels,” Amber replied, tears welling up in her eyes.

  “Well, go over there and talk with him. You can’t just give up without a fight,” Susie said firmly.

  “I don’t know, Susie. He sounded so cold on the phone,” she said, the tears rolling down her cheeks. “What can I do? I can’t live without him. I love him so much!”

  Susie got her a box of tissues and then poured them both a drink. “Here, take this,” she said, handing Amber the glass.

  In between sniffs, Amber took a long swig.

  “Go to Brussels and talk to him. Pretty lousy way to break the news to you, I have to say.” Susie was furious with Dermot.

  Amber wasn’t so sure that going to Brussels was a good idea, but it was worth a try. Anything was worth it, if she could salvage her marriage. Susie helped her pack an overnight bag and set out her clothes for the following morning. “You’re doing the right thing, Amber,” Susie assured her as she folded clothes in the bag. “He can’t just end it with a phone call.” She would have stayed the night but she was working early the following day, so seeing her friend safely tucked up in bed she hugged her and wished her luck.

  Amber caught the midday flight the following day, feeling as though she was in a dream – a nightmare, to be exact! She hoped to God she was doing the right thing but she had nothing to lose, did she? She planned to arrive at Dermot’s hotel at four thirty and wait for him there.

  Having time to spare, she ambled down the Boulevard de Waterloo. Normally, she would have been in her element, window-shopping in all the fabulously expensive designer boutiques. They were all here: Armani, Prada, Dior, Chanel, Escada, but today she felt like a zombie and barely glanced at them – until she spotted the red shoes in Versace. “Oh my God!” she cried aloud. “What divine shoes!” They were red patent stilettos, cut very low in front, with the daintiest straps she’d ever seen across the instep. They were to die for! They reminded her of her first pair of tiny red patent shoes. She checked out the price, €350. Not too bad, considering they were Versace, and sooo gorgeous. However, having more serious business to attend to at the moment, she turned her back on them.

  She arrived at Dermot’s hotel, the Hilton, just after four thirty and, as he wasn’t in his room, decided to wait for him in the lobby. Surprise was everything, Susie had warned her. If she’d let him know she was coming, he would have either put her off or been well prepared for her. She ordered a bottle of Perrier water. She was sick with nerves, rehearsing what she would say to him. After an agonising half-hour her heart lurched as she saw him come in. With a shock she saw that he was holding the hand of a stunning young girl who couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. She was exquisite, small and slim with long silky black hair, smooth olive skin and almond-shaped eyes. Thai or Malaysian, Amber guessed.

  As Amber approached him, Dermot’s eyes opened wide in surprise but he kept his composure. Turning to the beautiful girl, he spoke to her in French.

  “Camille, excuse-moi. Tu peut monter chez nous et j’arrive tout de suite.”

  “D’accord, chérie,” she replied, kissing Dermot on the lips and giving Amber a questioning look as she left.

  Amber knew enough French to understand that he’d told her to go up to their place and that he’d join her as soon as possible.

  She felt like laughing hysterically on hearing that his lover’s name was Camille – French for Camilla, the name of his first wife – but somehow she kept her hysteria under control.

  “Amber, what are you doing here?” Dermot asked, steering her to a chair in a quiet corner of the lobby.

  “We have to talk, Dermot. We can work things out.” She reached for his hand but he pulled it away.

  “I’m so sorry, Amber, but it truly is over. There’s nothing to talk about.”

  Her heart was pounding. She couldn’t believe he could be so cold and callous. Where was the man she loved and who had promised to love her “till death do us part”?

  “Is that the girl you’re leaving me for?” She tried to keep her voice under control.

  “I’m sorry, I truly am, but yes she is. I love her and . . .” he hesitated.

  She saw the red colour suffuse his face and realised he was embarrassed.

  “But she’s young enough to be your daughter, your granddaughter even. Just how old is she?” Amber’s voice was rising, her eyes wild.

  “Mmm . . . twenty,” he replied, looking abashed, “but don’t forget, you were quite a bit younger than me too.”

  “Dermot, I implore you, please think about this carefully. This is just infatuation. She’s only a kid.” She couldn’t stop herself reaching for his hand again and felt her hopes rise when he let her take it. “This girl wasn’t even born when John Lennon was killed,” she continued, “let alone Elvis Presley or JFK. How can you possibly consider marrying someone so young? You have nothing in common. You’re two generations apart.” Her eyes pleaded with him. She knew she sounded pitiful but she had to make him see sense. She started crying. “I love you,” she said.

  People around were beginning to look at them and Dermot shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hated scenes. Amber knew this. He pulled his hand away from her.

  “I’m sorry, my dear, I know it’s a shock for you but my mind’s made up . . .” he hesitated again, looking away, not able to meet her eyes. “Actually, Camille is pregnant so you understand why I want a divorce, as soon as possible.”

  Shock! That was the understatement of the year. She felt like she’d been hit with a sledgehammer in the gut. She doubled over in pain. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “You’ll be very well taken care of financially, of course,” he continued, ignoring her anguish. “You’ll have nothing to worry about on that score. Now I must go,” he said, standing, embarrassed at this public display of grief.

  “Please, Dermot, please!” she cried, sobbing.

  “Goodbye, Amber,” he said and, turning on his heel, he left her.

  Amber couldn’t take it in. She was too shocked to feel any other emotion as she stared after him. She felt the bile rising in her throat and just made it to the Ladies’ in time to throw up. She couldn’t believe it. Her marriage was caput. Was he serious? He was almost sixty, for God’s sake! This relationship could never last. And the cruellest blow of all – he was going to be a father! How often had Amber pleaded with him for a baby but he had adamantly refused. Now this slip-of-a-thing, whom he barely knew, had managed to get from him that which he had denied his wife. The only way she could survive this was to go on automatic so, pulling herself together, she repaired her make-up and left the hotel with as much dignity as she could muster.

  She realised that she’d better find somewhere to stay the night as it certainly would not be in her husband’s bed. But first she needed a drink. She went into the nearest café and ordered a large brandy. This calmed her down and, leaving the café, she walked back down Boulevard de Waterloo trying to come to terms with what had just happened. She passed the Versace shop again. The red shoes were still there. To hell with it, she thought, pushing open the door of the elegant shop. A very chic woman was just about to close up.

  “I’m sorry I’m so late but could I please try on the red shoes in the window?” Amber managed to ask, in her halting French.

  “But of course, my dear,” the woman replied in perfect English. “They are so beautiful, no? Every woman should have a pair.”

  They were gorgeous on and Amber agreed with her, handing over the credit card. Retail therapy – nothing to beat it! She saw the incongruity of it. Here am I, my world and my marriage crashing around me and the first thing I do? I buy a pair of shoes! She felt quite light-headed and giddy. She realised that she had eaten nothing all day so went into the Taverne de Copenhagen where she ordered a salade niçoise and a glass of white wine. She rang Susie from there.

  “Oh, Amber, I’ve been so worried about you. How did it go? Did you talk to Dermot?�
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  “No dice, Susie. He says there’s nothing to talk about. He’s in love with a twenty-year-old who also happens to be pregnant and he wants to marry her,” she said bitterly.

  Susie was flabbergasted. “Amber, you can’t be serious! Twenty – and pregnant? He’s lost his marbles! You poor thing! I can’t believe this.”

  Amber could hear the utter disbelief in her friend’s voice.

  “Look,” Susie continued, “I’m just in from Madrid and still at the airport. If I dash, I can try and get a standby to Brussels. I’ll get back to you,” and with that she was gone.

  “A friend in need, is a friend indeed,” Amber remembered her mother droning on when she was a child. She was right, she thought ruefully, as always. God only knows what her mother would make of this mess she was in. Her mother had never liked Dermot.

  “He’s too old for you and he’s inscrutable,” her mother had said. She made him sound like a villain in a James Bond movie.

  “What do you mean ‘inscrutable’?” Amber had asked.

  “I don’t trust him. You never know what he’s thinking. His face is like a mask. He says one thing but underneath he’s thinking another.”

  Amber had pooh-poohed her mother’s fancies. Now she had to admit that her mother had got it right.

  Susie rang back five minutes later.

  “I’m on my way. I’m boarding in five minutes. Have you booked a hotel?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Okay, I’ll give the Charlemagne a ring and book us a room. You know it. It’s beside Kitty’s. The crews stay there when they overnight on the Brussels route.”

  “Susie, I don’t know how I could get through this without you.” She felt close to breaking point but Susie shushed her.

  “I’ll meet you in Kitty’s at, say, ten o’clock? You go and check in now. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Susie, thanks.”

  Amber was waiting in Kitty’s and felt the tears welling up inside her when she saw Susie rushing in the door, her face full of concern.

  “You poor thing,” said Susie, giving her a hug. “What a bastard he is. Frankly, I think you’re better off without him but I know it doesn’t feel like that at the moment. How are you? Are you okay?” She looked at Amber, her face creased with worry.

  “Numb really. I just can’t believe that I didn’t see it coming. But honestly, I hadn’t a clue.” Amber shook her head.

  “Dermot always played his cards very close to his chest. I never knew what he was thinking.”

  “Well, I thought I did, but obviously I was wrong,” Amber said, her mouth turning down at the corners.

  “I need a stiff drink and you certainly do too,” said Susie, ordering two large brandies.

  Many brandies and a few tears later, they made their way to the Charlemagne where they talked long into the night.

  That was just fifteen months ago. Fifteen months of heartache which had almost led her to self-destruct, drinking vodka and orange at eleven in the morning, hoping to dull the pain and get her through the day. She’d changed from gin and tonic. It was a giveaway; everyone could smell it! She had done very well out of the divorce, or so everyone said. Dermot had offered her two million euro and a very generous monthly allowance. Guilt money, she called it! He was so anxious for a quick divorce that he’d have agreed to any demands she would have made. It had meant that she was able to buy this gorgeous apartment in the Marina in Malahide but her life had become empty and meaningless. She was glad to be back on the north side of Dublin where she’d grown up and where Susie and all of her old friends lived. She felt more comfortable there. She would have hated bumping into Dermot’s friends every day. She did meet Maeve once, shortly before she moved out of Foxrock, and she could see that the other woman was delighted at her misfortune.

  Maeve couldn’t keep from gloating. “I must say, I’m not surprised and neither is Camilla.”

  Amber couldn’t let this go. She hadn’t wanted to stoop to Maeve’s level but couldn’t resist it. “Well, I don’t think his new wife will make her any happier. She’s young enough to be Camilla’s granddaughter.”

  It was worth the bitchy remark to see the shock on Maeve’s face. Amber smiled again at the memory.

  Chapter 8

  Tessa hardly saw George on the Sunday. He was obviously still annoyed with her about the job and trying to avoid her. He had risen at seven and, by the time she’d come downstairs, he had left for golf. It was such a lovely day that she saddled up her horse, Kilkenny, and went for a long exhilarating ride.

  When she got back, in the early afternoon, she found a note from George to say that he’d gone to visit his mother and wouldn’t be home till late. That in itself was unusual. He rarely went to visit Doreen. Twice a year at most – her birthday and early December – that was it! He’d almost had a seizure last year when she’d suggested having his mother for Christmas.

  After a quick snack she took Napoleon for a walk. The lovely weather and the thought of starting work again put a spring in her step that even George’s behaviour couldn’t dampen. After their walk a delighted Napoleon curled up beside her on the sofa as she watched the Sex and the City movie. The film reminded her of her years in London. Sometimes, she felt homesick for the life she’d left behind and wished she was back there. If it wasn’t for Kilkenny and Napoleon, she reckoned she’d have jumped ship long ago. Now she had this job to look forward to. George would just have to get used to it!

  When he arrived back that evening she was watching her favourite soap Fair City.

  “How can you watch this rubbish?” was his greeting to her. “You’re an intelligent woman, Tessa. I just don’t understand it.”

  “I like it,” she’d replied. “Most of my friends watch Coronation Street and Desperate Housewives and other soaps.”

  “Desperate housewives is right,” he’d replied, opening his book with a bang.

  So, she’d turned off the television and gone up for a bath, crying, wondering what the hell she could do while at the same time wondering what was happening on Fair City. The following morning she rang Kate to find out about the soap.

  “Why don’t you drop over and I’ll tell you?” Kate had said.

  Relieved to be getting out of the house for a while she put the leash on Napoleon and walked over to Kate’s beautiful home. Kate ran a catering business and the delicious smell of baking wafted out as she opened the door. Kate had the coffee ready and had cut Tessa a generous wedge of a marvellous chocolate cake.

  “Why didn’t you watch Fair City?” she asked Tessa.

  “George again! He hates me watching television. Especially dumb programmes, as he calls them.” She took a huge bite of the chocolate cake. “Mmmm, this cake is delicious, Kate,” she said, her mouth so stuffed she could hardly get the words out. “Aren’t you having any? It’s terrific.”

  “Don’t tempt me. I can’t risk it. Too many calories! Lucky you, able to eat everything you want,” Kate sighed.

  “Well, I’ll have your slice then,” Tessa grinned, licking the chocolate from her lips.

  Kate grinned as she cut another big wedge. “Okay – there it is when you’re ready for it.”

  “It’s the same with magazines,” Tessa continued. “It’s no problem if I come home with Vanity Fair or Vogue, but Lord forbid I buy Hello or OK! George would go mental. Crap, he calls them!”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, all women love them,” Kate said in exasperation. “Tell him everything doesn’t have to be high-falutin’ all the time.”

  It was great to be able to talk freely to Kate. She understood her problems. She was that kind of person. Everyone confided in her and she was full of good common sense.

  “I’m really looking forward to the training tomorrow,” Tessa told her. “I’m so grateful to you for suggesting this job. If only George could accept it I think it could really help us.” She continued dejectedly, running her fingers through her long silky hair, “Things can’t go on like this.
Something’s got to give.”

  “I’m sure things will improve,” Kate told her, although more in hope than with conviction.

  Chapter 9

  Amber took ages getting dressed for her dinner with Grace on Monday night. She wondered if Carlo would be there. Probably not, but still she took much more trouble than usual over her appearance, just in case he was. Walking into her shoe-room, she looked around, feeling that thrill she always got when surrounded by her beautiful shoes.

  “Well, new beginning – past behind me – moving on. There’s only one pair of shoes for this occasion!” She took down the red Versace shoes that she’d bought on what she still considered to be the worst day of her life. She’d never worn them. They’d sat there forlornly, unloved. That was about to change. God, they were beautiful. To hell with Dermot! He wasn’t worth it, she thought, admiring the shoes in the mirror.

  She was ready and waiting when Susie called for her. Tony had very kindly offered to drop them off at the Shelbourne as he had a meeting in his club, which was just a few doors down from the hotel on Stephen’s Green. They would meet up with him there later which meant they could enjoy a drink without the worry of driving home.

  “Oh my God! You’re wearing those red shoes!” Susie squealed as she spotted them. “They’re gorgeous!” She hadn’t seen them since that fateful night in Brussels. She knew what this meant. Her friend was indeed moving on.

  Amber was walking on air as they entered the Shelbourne to meet Grace. She flashed a dazzling smile at the doorman. She felt great – light-hearted in fact. She was excited about this new opportunity offered to her.