I was getting worried about her now. Should I call a doctor? Why wasn’t she in hospital anyway? Fuck it, I wished I knew more about these things. “Dawn, you need to calm down, you’re going to make yourself sick.”
I managed to get her into the sitting room and cradled her on the couch.
She stopped crying and, staring into space, repeated her words from earlier. “We were going to have another baby.”
“Oh Dawn, I know, but these things happen, and you’ll have another.”
She shook her head.
“When did it happen?”
“Last night,” she gulped.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
“He was . . .” she could hardly get the words out, “he was . . . he was supposed to be in London.”
I was confused now.
“Who was, honey? Graham? Was he here with you then?”
“No he wasn’t with me!” she screamed, in a hoarse, bloodcurdling voice that I’d never heard from a human being before. “He was with her!”
I literally froze with the realisation that this was a very, very different situation from what I’d thought.
“Jesus Christ.What are you saying? That he was – no way, are you sure?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
“I’m sure,” she nodded. “It’s been going on for months.”
I felt sick.Literally sick.
I had a million questions I wanted to ask her but I couldn’t speak. The words just would not come out of my mouth.
“And you know what, Holly? The worst thing is I know her. She knows me. She knows. I mean what kind of selfish bitch is she?”
She was crying again, and all I could do was hold her, and rock her, and tell her that everything was going to be okay. When all the time, deep down, I knew that nothing would ever be okay again.
For either of us.
Chapter 43
“Welcome back, Holly!” yelledJamie the minute I put my key in the door.
“Holleeee!” screamed Amber also, not to be outdone, her red spots looking considerably less angry.
“Hey, guys, thanks!”
Oh God, so much for sneaking in. I knelt down to hug them both. But they both resisted, instead taking a hand each and dragging me down the hall.
“We have a surprise!” Jamie was yelling again.
This was like a nightmare. All I wanted to do was go to my room, get into my bed and pretend this day had never happened. But instead I smiled glassily and let myself be pulled into the kitchen.
“Close your eyes!” ordered Jamie.
I did as I was bid, and then opened them to a giant screech of “Surprise!” from the children. They had made a huge banner for the wall with “Welcome Back, Holly” painted in bright colours and on the table was a huge cake with neon-pink icing and my name piped in blue.
“We missed you!” said Jamie.
“And that definitely goes for all of us,” said a deep voice behind me. I turned to see Mark standing at the sink. “Promise me you’ll never take any time off, ever again?”
I smiled as best I could, his words only reminding me that I was about to let this fantastic family down as well.
“Where’s your mother?” I asked, looking around.
“Oh, she insisted on being gone before you got here. She left food in the oven for us, but thought we should have some time alone.”He smirked.“If I didn’t know her better I’d think she was trying to match-make!”
I smiled feebly.
“It’s okay,” he winked before whispering, “I told her you were on a dirty weekend with a married man!”
At that, I could take no more. Giant tears started to slide down my cheeks and I dashed for the roll of kitchen paper on the table.
“Jesus Christ, Holly, I’m joking!” Mark said, shocked at my reaction.
“Holly cry,” said Amber, happy to be able to use her favourite phrase again, but Jamie looked petrified.
Mark immediately stepped in and started to shepherd the children out of the room.
“Oh Jamie, it’s fine, it’s just that no one ever cooked Holly such a nice cake before,” he said brightly. “Now, why don’t you two go wash your faces and hands and then we can sit down and once we’veeaten up Nana’s roastchicken, we can all have some cake!”
The two scampered out, Jamie casting me one last anxious look, and then there was silence. I couldn’t turn to face him, nor could I stop the tears pouring from my eyes. So deep were my sobs that I found it hard to catch my breath in between.
“Holly, you have to tell me what’s wrong. Did you have another row?”
I shook my head, trying to stem the tears from my eyes.
“Then what is it? Please, whatever it is, you can tell me!”
I shook my head.
“I can’t,” I whispered.
And then, standing in Mark’s kitchen, kitchen paper rammed against my eyes, I broke down, all the tension of the past month, and the guilt of the Dawn situation bubbling to the surface.
And I cried like I’d never cried before.
I cried for Dawn and her ruined marriage.
I cried for Cain’s wife and her ruined marriage.
And I cried for me.
(Mostly I cried for me.)
Then, through my tears, I felt two strong arms wrap themselves around me, turning me around. And I knew the situation had just gone from bad to infinitely cringey worse but I couldn’t fight it. I leaned into Mark’s chest and I cried, and cried again. And he hugged me, and stroked my hair and murmured into my ear.
“Holly, whatever it is, we can fix it, please stop crying, please.”
“You can’t fix it, Mark, no one can,” I managed between sobs.
“I promise you, it can’t be as bad as you think.”
“It is!” I wailed. “I’m a horrible, selfish person, and that’s just the truth!”
Through my distress I could feel his giant shoulders start to shake.
“You’d better not be laughing!” I wailed.
“I’m not.”
“You are!”
“You’re right, I am. But just a little bit.”
“It’s not funny, Mark, this is really serious!” I cried, pulling back to glare at him.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry, but that whole ‘I’m-the-worst-person-in-the-world’ crap just doesn’t work with me. I could tell you stories about this house that would make your blood run cold. Now please, dry your eyes, and the minute we get the kids to bed, I’llmake you a cuppa and you can tell me the whole story. Deal?”
“Mark, seriously, there is no point.”
“There’s every point.”
“You’re going to hate me.”
“Well, if I do, then I do,” he said, still smiling, “but I doubt it.”
“Okay.” I gave in and wiped my eyes with my sodden piece of kitchen paper.
“Eh, Holly, it just might take a bit more than that. I really don’t want to make you cry again but, if you don’t put on a bit of make-up, the children will be awake all night with nightmares.”
Two hours later, the children were in bed and the house was quiet.
“Right, the dishwasher’s done – I think I might just head up,” I said as I tried to sneak from the room.
“Not so fast, Missus! Sit!” Mark pointed to the chair. “Now, tea or coffee?”
I groaned inwardly. At this stage all I wanted to do was go to bed and forget this horrendous day ever happened.
“Tea, please.” I did as I was told and sat down.
“Now tell me the whole story.”
I sighed. I was so exhausted.
“Mark. I don’t know where to start. It’s just all so complicated.”
“Well, why don’t you start at the bit where you’re not really a nanny?”
Holy shit!
I looked at him in shock.
“I’m not a what?”
“Holly, I’m going to make this easier for you.”
With that he
got up from the table and left the kitchen. When he came back, he was carrying a huge brown cardboard box.
“This is one of three that arrived on Friday after you were gone.”
I looked at the box, my heart sinking. I knew immediately that it was one of the three that I’d given to Seán to mind for me.
And it was open.
“Yes, it’s open,” said Mark. “I’m afraid I did that, well, only to one of them. I was expecting drugs, you see, and I had it open before I realised it was addressed to you.”
And I had genuinely thought that this day couldn’t get any worse.
Seán, you fucking eejit! I said I’d ring you in a month, not to send them in a month!
“Well, I had it open and had taken theseout,” he held up two of my business books in his hands, “and it dawned on me that either you were the most overqualified childminder in the world or,” he replaced the books, “you have some very boring hobbies.”
He sat back down in front of me.
“So get talking, Ms Green. I’m all ears.”
Chapter 44
Was it any wonder that at three in the morning I was wide awake with not a hope of getting back to sleep? I’d been tossing and turning for hours, my poor brain unable to decide if it was better that I now had no secrets from Mark, or much, much worse.
He was just so unreadable. When I’d got to the end of my long and sorry tale he’d sat, deep in thought, for several minutes.
“So,” he said eventually, “when you’d go for your break at Christmas, you were planning on never coming back.”
“Yes,” I whispered, unable to look at him.
“I see. And Oliver will be free to go with you then?”
“Well, he hopes so. I suppose there’s always a chance that the promotions won’t be announced before Christmas, but I’m hoping that won’t happen.”
“I see.”
“Oh, stop saying ‘I see’ and just get to the point!” I snapped. “I know you’re annoyed, you’ve every right to be. I don’t blame you. This awful mess is all my fault and I can’teven begin to tell you how sorry I am.”
I’d had enough of this whole embarrassing topic, and certainly the memory of ending up in his arms earlier wasn’t helping matters.
“My point,” said Mark, a sharp tone coming into his voice, “is that we’ve been through all the Holly-is-the-worst-person-in-the-world bullshit. And I’m not saying yet whether you’re right or wrong on that one. This is certainly a lot to take in. Two days ago I thought I had a superb nanny for the foreseeable future, now it appears I have a fugitive accountant for two to three weeks at most. The least you can do is give me a few hours to digest everything.”
I’d nodded. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing for you to digest. I’m going to start packing in the morning. Unless of course you want me to stay to help you find someone else.”
“That won’t be necessary. I have Harry to help me after all.”
It amused me somewhat that, even without looking up, I knew that the muscle in his jaw would be clenching.
We were both tired. There was nothing for it but to say goodnight and head to bed.
And that’s how the conversation had finished up. I flipped my pillow again and turned, but it was no good. There was no chance of me getting to sleep. Round and round in my head went all the dreadful things I’d done.
– I’dhad an affair with a married man
– Now I was (albeit unwittingly) in an affair with a different man that had a girlfriend
– I’d involved the nicest man in Ireland in my scheme and now he was going to be murdered by his brother
–I’d betrayed my first ever best friend, who would hate me if she knew that I too was a “selfish bitch” who was knowingly in a relationship with someone who had a girlfriend
–And I’d lied to, and taken advantage of my boss, who’d entrusted me with his precious children. Alright, so they were easier to call precious thanks to me, but still, I wasn’t to know that when I’d initially duped him
– And for the second time in six weeks (third time in six months – you go, girl!), I’d be leaving a job under a cloud
Oh Holly, your mother would be so proud.
It was ironic but for once, in crisis, I couldn’t post on the babyline. Well, I could, but I’d have to create another new persona. MarshaG would never do anything as calamitously stupid as get herself into this situation. (Though, to be fair, with four kids under five it was unlikely that an affair would be high on her agenda.) In fact, I doubted I’d get any sympathy from anyone on the baby board. No, I’d have to search under ‘Discussions’ and hope that there was a board for ‘Hopeless Women Who Ruin Everything’. Which wasn’t outside the realms of possibility. After all, there was a board called ‘Broken Hearts’, where women wept and gnashed their teeth, melded together in one big moaning mêlée, about their failed relationships. In fact I’d noticed that while men occasionally posted on the babyline, they were never brave enough to show their faces on ‘Broken Hearts’. They’dhave been instantly run over by a mob of angry, bitter ex-wives and girlfriends baying for the blood of anything with testosterone.
In fact, in hindsight, I’d better stay away from ‘Broken Hearts’ myself. I was precisely the kind of female they ranted about the most. I’d read with interest one evening where a girl who’d bravely called herself ‘otherwoman’ had posted a thread asking for understanding on behalf of all “Other Women everywhere”. She’d lasted about four hours and one hundred and sixty-two angry-bitch posts before she’d vanished, sobbing into cyberspace, never to be heard of again.
I wondered if Dawnwas on the babyline, posting about her philandering husband.
Bloody Graham Kinahan.
How had I not spotted that one? Let’s face it, it’s not like I didn’t know a two-timing rat when I saw one. I could write a thesis on them, for God’s sake. In fact, I was quite surprised that I hadn’t fancied him myself.
Or slept with him.
Or ruined my life for him.
Because that was the kind of thing women like me did, wasn’t it? One thing was for sure,Dawn would have no time for me if she knew what I was up to. Of course she wouldn’t. I was the Other Woman.
For the second time in a year.
Wincing in shame, I suddenly thought of Cain’s wife, Melissa. Had she wept and moaned and screamed when she’d found out what he was up to? Had somebody had to hold her sobbing in their arms while she ranted and railed against the ruination of her life?
Why hadn’t I thought of this before?
I’d known about her all along. I’d known and I hadn’t given a damn.
I hadn’t thought of this before because I’d thought of no one but myself.
You stupid, selfish girl.
Okay, so with Oliver it was different. I hadn’t known until it was too late.
And he wasn’t married.
And there were no children.
But he did have a girlfriend. A girlfriend that was there before me and I’d done very little that could be considered honourable since I’d found out.
I threw back the covers in disgust. I had to get up. Going round and round in a circle of self-hatred was getting me nowhere.
I crept down the stairs and into the kitchen, fished the hot chocolate from the back of the cupboard and then went to the fridge.
“Eh, what are you doing exactly?”
I jumped at the sound of Mark’s voice and walloped my head off the fridge door.
“Shite! Why do you keep doing this to me?” I rubbed my head in indignation. “I’m getting some bloody milk for my bloody hot chocolate because I can’t bloody well sleep!” I waved the purple tub of chocolate powder at him.
“Oh. That’s fine. I thought maybe –”
“Maybe what? That I was trying to gas myself in the fridge? No, I wasn’t, but I’m not promising my life won’t come to that.”
“That’s not funny, Holly.”
He was serious, but obviously couldn’t not smile at the sight of me bashing my head off the fridge door once again in his presence. And once again, as luck would have it, in the bloody Garfield pyjamas.
Apart from the half-smirk on his lips, he looked awful. Stubble peppered his jaw and he had huge dark circles under his eyes. “Make enough for two there, will you? I’m having sleeping issues myself.”
“I suppose that’s my fault too,” I grumbled guiltily, finally retrieving the milk and pouring some into a saucepan.
“Right, that’s it.” His tone was sharp. “Sit down. I was going to have this chat with you tomorrow but as we’re both here,” he paused, looking at his watch, “3 a.m. seems as good a time as any.”
Oh God, here it comes, I thought, as I sat down in front of him, feeling for all the world like I was sixteen again and had just been caught drinking by my dad.
A dressing-down from Mark Fielding and me in my Garfield pyjamas without so much as a screed of make-up on . . .
“It is not your fault that Graham Kinahan had an affair.” Mark didn’t waste any time getting to the point.
I grunted but that didn’t stop him.
“As you know yourself, a lot of men have affairs, and well –”his face broke into a smirk, “they can’t all be your fault.” He paused to clear his throat. “Well, not quite all of them. Personally, I don’t think very much of someone who never seems to be content with what they have. I’d also wonder how they could ever be trusted again. So no, your current relationship is not ideal but, for now, let’s assume that Oliver is going to do the right thing and that all your dreams come true.”
I nodded, but he was talking again.
“However –”
Oh shit, here it comes.
“I would like you to consider something.”
Oh. I looked at him. “What?”
“I’d like you to consider staying on here for a while if for some reason things don’t work out or, you know, if,” he added hastily, “if Oliver needs to stay a while longer to sort things out.”
“Oh Mark, I don’t know.” I immediately shook my head. I’d made up my mind, I was going – where, I didn’t know – but I was going.
Between You and Me Page 28