I struggled out of his hold and leaned on one elbow.
“Ruin what, Oliver? I think it got kinda ruined the day I found out you had a girlfriend. A girlfriend that was also my boss. Why do you think I met you tonight if not to discuss it? It’s what we’re meant to be talking about! This other –” I gestured wildly around the room, “stuffwas not in the plan!”
“Mightn’t have been in your plan,” he said cheekily, trying to tickle me to make me laugh. “Ah, come on, Holls, admit it, this is great.”
“I never said it wasn’t great,” I struggled to fend him off, but I knew I was failing, “but clearly it was never great enough for you!”
He groaned and rolled away.
“How many times do I have to tell you? It wasn’t like that.”
“Oh come on, you really expect me to believe that?”
“Yes. I do. Why would I lie to you? If it was her I wanted I’d never have begged you to stay in Ireland. I mean, why would I? I’d just have let you go back to bloody New York, wouldn’t I? For the love of God, would I be listening to all this shit if I didn’t have to? Would I even bother lying?”
I almost laughed at the desperation in his voice, but I still couldn’t resist one last dig, tinged with bitterness.
“Oh I don’t know – that’s what men do, isn’t it?”
“You know that’s not fair. When have I ever lied to you before?”
“How am I supposed to know? I didn’t realise you were lying to me this time until I overheard those smug bitches gloating in the pub that night!”
He started to laugh. “Okay, fair enough. I’m not reallysurprised you went mad at me in Harvey’s that day.”
“Went mad? Have you any idea of how insanely angry I was?”
“Well, the fact that you were here for a whole week without telling me gives me a fair idea.”
“What else was I meant to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Holly – given me another chance?”
“For what? You were in a relationship with Catherine Taylor!” I slammed my head back into the pillow, before continuing almost to myself, “Maybe I should have guessed when you were so good at keeping us a secret.”
Now it was his turn to get indignant.
“Ah, hold on, you wanted it kept a secret too, remember? In fact, you were everybit as keen as me that no one find out.”
He was right. It had suited me. After the public humiliation of my failed romance in New York, I knew only too well that another in-house relationship would not do my professional credibility any good. And anyway, I had to admit, the secrecy had been half the fun . . .
“Again, how very convenient,” I mumbled grudgingly. “Still, you should have either told me, or broken up with her, or both.”
“Holly, she’s also my boss. What was I meant to do? Tell her by text to eff off? ‘Oh, hi, Catherine, it’s all off, but if you don’t mind I’d still like that promotion you’ve promised me’?”
“Well, why not?”
“It was a very tricky situation.”
Okay, so he might have another point there. But before I could feel my resolve start to soften I had to go for the jugular.
“Soyou’re going to break up with her now then?”
He pulled the sheet up over his head and muttered something.
“What?” I asked.
“Yes,” he repeated.
I dragged the sheet down.
“Say it like you mean it,” I demanded as his hands went up to cover his face.
He winced as if anticipating my reaction.
“Yes, I am going to break up with her. Or you. One of you, soon, I promise.”
I shot up in the bed.
“What?” I screeched.
He dove under the sheet again. “I’m joking!” he shouted.
“Tell me why I should believe you!”
“Because you love me?”
He peeped with one eye from under the sheet and I thumped him.
“Love you? Are you mad? I’d love to bloody well kill you right now!”
“I promise. I’ll sort it all out. Just give me a bit of time.”
I sat, my shoulders starting to sag, wanting so much to believe him.
And it was like he could see the chink in my armour.
“All those plans, Holls, I wasn’t bullshitting – just give me a bit of time.”
His arm snaked around my waist and started to tickle my ribs, further and further up until I started to squirm, then laugh, and then slide down the bed until we were face to face.
“I want to believe you,” I said quietly.
“Then do.”
To him it was simple and before I could say anymore his lips were on mine.
“This is how it should be,” he whispered as he started to kiss my neck. “We have all night, then in the morning we can get a taxi out to Dalkey – I’ll even treat you to a posh brunch, your favourite . . .”
“Wait!” I shot up on one elbow again. “A taxi? Where’s your car?”
“My car? At home. Why?”
“What’s it doing at home?”
“Cos I had a drink with the lads earlier. What’s the problem?”
“The problem? The problem is you’vegot to drop me home, thicko!”
“Home?”
But I wasn’t listening – I had my phone out and was frantically trying to access the hotel’s Wi-Fi.
“Come on, come on!” I muttered.
“Eh, Holly, we were kind of in the middle of something there?” he tried to remind me.
But I had shot out of the bed and was hopping around on one leg trying to get my jeans on while looking for my bra.
“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.
“The earliest bus in the morning is too late!” I panted. “If I hurry I’ll just make the last one home tonight.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You’re not going home tonight!”
“I am, I’m sorry, it’sJamie –” I stopped myself, there was no way I could explain to Oliver that I had to bring a five-year-old to football in the morning as his daddy, my boss, was working. “I just have to be somewhere,” I finished lamely.
“Who in God’s name is Jamie? I thought that hairy fucker’s name was Harry?”
“It is. Jamie is – his nickname?” This didn’t sound plausible, even to me, but by now I was almost dressed and had given up trying to find the offending bra.
“Holly, is this some kind of joke? How can you go home? I booked a room for us. For the night!”
I almost laughed at his woebegone face and, kneeling on the bed, took it in my hands.
“I had a great night. But I have to go. I’m sorry. But we can meet again, really soon.”
“Wednesday?” he asked, his face lighting up.
“I promise!” I kissed him before grabbing my bag and heading for the door, and then as I put my hand on the door handle I turned –
“Oh but Oliver, one thing . . .”
“What?” he asked sulkily.
“Next time bring the car, will you?”
Chapter 27
“Come on, Jamie! You can do it! Shoot!” I held my breath, almost afraid to look, then screamed, “Yessss!” as the ball rolled into the back of the net.
“Yaaaay!” yelled Amber from her buggy, her little open mouth full of half-eaten raisins.
I was thrilled. Cold, tired, but definitely thrilled.
Yes it would have been nice to have woken up with Oliver this morning, to have strolled through Dalkey Hill Park, sat on ‘our’ bench that looked out over the sea, and then had Eggs Benedict together in the tiny but delightful World Cafe. Instead here I was, standing on the side of a football pitch, the November wind whipping around my ears, my cheeks getting redder and redder by the second.
However, watching Jamie come alive on that very football pitch was the perfect consolation prize.
I wound my scarf tighter around my neck and looked at my watch. There couldn’t be much time l
eft to go.
“Hasn’t he come on in leaps and bounds?” I heard a voice to my left. I looked around to see a kindly-faced, middle-aged woman standing beside me.
“Ah, Mrs Murphy! I didn’t recognise you for a second.” I held out my hand as I realised it was the woman who had dropped the children around on that first night.
“Well, I almost didn’t recognise any of you!” she said smiling. “And little Amber, sitting in a buggy, a sight I haven’t seen too often.”
“Don’t remind her,” I whispered conspiratorially. “It’s a new development and one that takes a lot of bribery!”
“I’ll say nothing!” She winked. “So it’s all going well for you then?”
“Well, we have our moments,” I admitted. “I’d be lying if I said it was all plain sailing.”
“How’s Mark?”
“He’s – he’s fine.” I hesitated. “You know yourself.”
“Oh I do, only too well.”
I thought I detected a slightly grim note to her voice.
“Well, I’m sure the last year hasn’t been easy for him.” I wasn’t sure why I should defend him but a bit of employee/employer loyalty seemed in order.
“Mark was Mark before things ever got difficult,” she said, again with just a touch of bitterness to her voice.
“Well, he does work a lot,” I admitted.
“Far too much. He always did. That poor girl, as if she didn’t have enough on her plate.”
I didn’t know what to say now. I was never one for gossip and this conversation just didn’t feel right. So I just nodded and wondered aloud how much of the game could possibly be left.
Mrs Murphy seemed to sense my discomfort and put a hand gently on my arm.
“Listen to me going on,” she said. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think that I’m some old gossiping biddy like that Bernadette Foley. It’s just that I got very close to Emma and, well, I just feel very strongly about some of the things that happened in that house.” She sighed. “Mark’s not a bad lad – I suppose some people just don’t cope well when things go wrong.”
I had no idea what she was talking about; I just knew it was definitely time to start making an exit.
“Well, it was very nice meeting you, Mrs Murphy. I have to say you were the last person I expected to bump into here.”
“Oh, my grandson is on Jamie’s team. They used to play together all the time before. We should organise something someday. You should bring Jamie over. I often mind Peter for my daughter.”
“Oh, the Grannies of Ireland!” I said, smiling, glad of the change of subject. “What would we do without them?”
And with that, the final whistle went and the children started to stream off the pitch.
A glowing Jamie ran into my arms, stunning me with a big hug.
“You were fantastic, sweetie!” I squeezed him tight. “Just wait till we tell Daddy.”
“When will he be home?”
My heart sank at the eagerness in his eyes.
“Well, not till later, love,” I said. Then I thought of something. “But we could try phoning him if you like?”
“Oh, could we?” His face lit up.
“I don’t see why not – if he’s busy he just won’t answer and he’ll call us back.”
I dialled Mark’s number; it rang for a second then clicked onto his paging service.
I looked at Jamie and his face fell.
And then I had another idea.
“Come on, I know your dad has surgery this afternoon – let’s go and tell him ourselves!”
“At the clinic?” Jamie’s eyes widened with awe.
“Yes, at the clinic – he’ll probably kill me but, hey, what’d be new?”
“But how will we get there?”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought of that. I tried to think about how far it was to Harpers’ from the pitch. By my calculations, it wasn’t that far, and we did have a buggy and Mark could drop us home . . .
“Well, we could walk – do you think you could manage that?”
“I could! I really could!”
“Yaay!” Amber screeched from the buggy, caught up by Jamie’s excitement while having no clue what we were talking about.
So off we set, me only now wondering if, now that I’d relayed my mad idea to the kids, I would actually be able to find the clinic. Twenty minutes later I also started to wonder would the skin on my heels ever heal as I started to feel the toll of the long walk on the backs of my feet.
But by some fluke or miracle, aided by Jamie’s directions, it actually wasn’t long until I recognised the wooden fencing of Fenton Harper’s farm.
Down the gravelled driveway we trundled, the buggy grinding so deep down into the stones I was practically ruddy-faced by time we reached the top. This time I avoided the whole big-dog-debacle and circumvented the house, heading straight around the back towards the sheds that housed the surgery. It did cross my mind briefly that the last time I was here there were dead horses being dragged around by tractors but I reckoned surely Mark didn’t have fatalities every week.
“Dad! I scored a goal!” It was Jamie’s roar that alerted me to the fact that Mark was crossing the yard towards us.
“Go!” shouted Amber, pudgy arms flung open wide as she too spotted her daddy.
“I hope this is okay?” I pushed a stray, sweaty tendril of hair behind my ear, knowing that my face had just got even redder. “We’re only here for a minute. It’s just that he wanted to tell you his news . . .”
“Of course it’s okay – a goal? Come here to me, son!” he grabbed the delighted child and swung him up into the air. “Now tell me all about it – did the keeper even get a hand to it?”
“No! He didn’t, Dad, I swear, he went like a totally different way. And it was Barry Murphy, Dad, he’s like usually totally awesome!”
Watching the two of them chatter so animatedly I suddenly forgot the blisters on my heels and the fact that the sweat was dripping in rivulets down my back.
Then hearing a whimper at my side I looked down and poor Amber was looking totally dejected at the lack of attention. I reached down immediately and, unclipping her straps, swung her up onto my hip.
“Hey, Dad – wait till I tell you how good this girl was all morning!”
The minute Mark turned towards her, her little face lit up.
“Oh Amber, love, I’m so proud!” he said, taking her from my arms into his.
And, I swear, she actually blushed.
“Why don’t we all go inside?” Jamie asked, clearly wanting to make the most of this unusual visit.
“Well, only if Daddy says that’s okay.”
“Of course it is. We’ve finished for today and I’m sure there’s biscuits in the canteen.”
I wrinkled my nose, not sure if there could be anything I’d let past the children’s lips in the canteen I remembered.
“Oh come on, we’ve cleaned it up a bit since you were last here, it’s not as bad!” Mark gave me a little push.
For some unknown reason I jumped away from his touch.
“Oh – sorry – I didn’t mean –” he said.
“No! I’m sorry!” My face flushed scarlet at my ridiculous reaction.
He looked at me quizzically, but I just looked away and followed the children into the clinic.
You fool, I hissed at myself.
Inside, Mark was busy showing the children around and I could take some time to pull myself together. I suppose it had been a pretty strange 24 hours, what with the Mother and Toddler Group, then the hotel with Oliver and now, well, I suppose this was the weirdest bit – seeing a soft side to Mark Fielding. What girl wouldn’t be all at sixes and sevens?
Wandering around on my own, I came across what seemed to be a small library. Trying to ignore the selection of horse’s skulls, jawbones and what seemed to be freeze-dried severed legs labelled with various ailments, my eye was caught by a selection of drawings on the wall. They seemed to be CAD drawings
of a large building, like a school or large house.
“That’s the dream.”
I leapt again at Mark’s voice behind me.
“Dream?”
“My own clinic.”
“What’s wrong with this one?”
“Oh come on, you’re allowed say ‘apart from the obvious’.”
I smiled. He was right – I was trying to be charitable. And I did in fact remember him mentioning this dream the first time I had come to the clinic.
“Well, firstly,” he said, reaching up to smooth one corner of the drawing back, “it’s not mine, it’s Fenton’s and, secondly, he’s hoping to retire in the next few years and I’m sure he won’t want me pottering around in his back yard. Thirdly, it’s not purpose built. It kind of grew and is not exactly state of the art.”
“So you’ll go out on your own then?”
“Well, that’s the plan. Of course, plans go astray and, well, this hasn’t been the easiest of years.” A muscle flicked in his jaw and suddenly I knew who he reminded me of. Tall, lean, muscular Cain. Another man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Of course,” I nodded, “but hopefully things will get easier for you, for all of you.”
“Maybe they have already.” He looked directly at me and then blushed, and I knew the words were out before he’d realised what he was saying.
I stood open-mouthed, not really knowing what to say or do. This was a moment I hadn’t been expecting. And for some insane reason, it was one I didn’t mind lasting.
But then there was a crash at the door and somebody shouted “Watch out!”
But it was too late – a huge black dog had run in and buried his head in Mark’s knees.
“Oi! Nero, get out!” Mark shoved him away, clearly relieved at the diversion.
“Oh sorry!” It was Tara.
Great.
“Hope we’re not interrupting.” She beamed up at us from where she crouched, restraining the giant dog in her arms.
“Of course not,” Mark said, a little too eagerly.
“Definitely not.” My response was a little cooler.
“Oh good – I was wondering if I could borrow Mark – I need a little favour?”
Goddamnit, if she wasn’t definitely batting her eyelashes.
Between You and Me Page 18