That first time he had very slowly kissed and touched her and talked and smiled, and under his gentle hands she had relaxed and opened herself up to him. Afterwards she lay naked in his arms, not at all self-conscious or embarrassed and feeling more at peace than she had in years. It was as if she’d been holding her breath her entire life and could finally exhale.
She’d sworn it wouldn’t happen again; her life was complicated enough without this but the more unpredictable Dominic became the more she’d turned to Rob; the more she’d come to depend on him. And now it seemed he was about to come back into her life. And despite her concern for her children and money worries, a small flame of hope stirred within her.
Chapter Ten
Helen knocked on the door before going into the bedroom. As she’d expected, her son was out cold despite the fact that she’d called him three times already.
‘It’s eight o’clock, you’re going to be late. Colm! Move it!’ She yanked the duvet off him when he didn’t budge.
He groaned. ‘Okay, okay. I’m coming.’
‘That boy needs to study more and party less,’ she said when she returned to the kitchen where Johnny was working his way through a plate of toast, slathered with butter and marmalade.
‘Ah, sure, he was only at the cinema and he needs to get a break from the studying.’ Johnny reached over to switch on the radio.
Helen frowned as she started to make sandwiches for her son’s lunch. It was all very well being blasé about Colm’s future; yes, he would join the family business, but that wasn’t the secure prospect it had once been. If he was forced to look for work elsewhere he would need a good degree under his belt. He was a clever boy, she had no doubts on that score and, like his dad, he oozed confidence, but sometimes she felt he was too sure of himself and underestimated the hard work that lay ahead. Johnny didn’t understand what she was worrying about and dismissed her fears, but then he seemed very preoccupied at the moment.
Their usual place for talking through business problems was in bed, after they’d made love and she lay curled up in his arms. It had been a couple of weeks since the last time, she realized; that was unusual. She often felt too tired for sex but Johnny reached for her a couple of times a week, and no matter what mood she was in, once his hands and mouth started to explore her body she soon forgot her tiredness. She was no longer the size ten he had married but when he made love to her she felt beautiful and sexy. Perhaps she would make a special effort for him tonight and when he was relaxed she would find out exactly what it was that was bothering him.
‘He’s off out again tonight,’ she said. ‘It’s Fergal Harrison’s birthday party. Why don’t I make us a nice dinner and we could have an early night.’
Johnny looked up absently. ‘Sorry, love?’
‘I said, Colm’s going out tonight and we’ll have the place to ourselves.’ She smiled at him.
‘Oh, sorry, sweetheart; I’ve got to go out. I’ll arrange to pick Colm up afterwards. I don’t like him roaming the streets so late.’
‘Where are you off to on a Friday evening?’ she asked. She couldn’t remember him mentioning a meeting; there certainly wasn’t anything in the diary.
‘I’m going to see Christy.’
‘Ah, okay.’ Helen sat down at the table beside him and poured them both more coffee.
‘How is he?’ she asked.
‘Not good,’ said Johnny. ‘Bev phoned me yesterday. She thinks he’s getting worse; she’s asked me to have a word. I don’t know how long it will take. Sorry, love.’
‘It’s fine. Of course you must go and see him. Will you come home for something to eat first?’
‘No. I’ll go straight from work.’
‘Well, in that case I’ll make a shepherd’s pie and you can have some whatever time you get in.’
‘You’re a darling.’ He drained his cup, leaned over to kiss her hard on the mouth and stood up.
As he made to leave, Colm strolled in, yawning and knotting his school tie. Johnny punched him lightly on the arm. ‘If you get a move on, I’ll drop you off.’
‘Cool.’ Colm dropped two slices of bread into the toaster and poured a glass of orange juice.
‘You should be having something nutritious and filling like cereal,’ Helen told her gangly son; he was far too thin for her liking.
‘He doesn’t have time,’ Johnny protested. ‘Get your stuff together; you can eat in the car.’
‘Go on then,’ Helen sighed. ‘I’ll get the toast.’
‘Thanks, Ma.’
Minutes later she was waving them off, Colm with his bag slung over one shoulder and carrying his toast and the cereal bar she’d pressed into his hand.
‘Don’t forget to send out the invoice to McNally’s,’ Johnny called back to her.
‘It went out in yesterday’s post,’ she told him.
‘What a woman!’ He winked at her and climbed into the car and drove away.
Helen smiled before hurrying back inside to tidy up. She had promised to drop into Marianne’s for coffee at eleven and there was much to do first. Once she’d cleaned up the breakfast things and making the beds, she collected the post from the doormat and took it into the small study to read. Along with the usual bills there was a brief note from the solicitor confirming an appointment with Marianne. She slid it into her friend’s file, which seemed to grow thicker every day.
After making some phone calls chasing up money and confirming quotations, Helen turned her attention to her upcoming party. As she scanned her to-do list she was reasonably happy that everything was under control. It was nowhere near as big a production as the parties they’d had in the past but it would still cost a couple of grand. Perhaps that was what was bothering Johnny, she mused. He hadn’t said so. In fact he hadn’t even asked what it was costing, but maybe he would have preferred something more low-key. Helen felt a pang of guilt. She had always organized their social life and Johnny had always been more than happy to let her. She should have been the one to suggest putting off the party until business improved. After all, they had Colm’s eighteenth coming up in a few short months and quite apart from a party, they were planning to present him with a small car and a voucher for driving lessons. Feeling even guiltier at the thought of all that expense, Helen went back through her list, looking for ways to make cuts. She felt happier after she’d reduced the outlay by three hundred euros and quickly getting dressed, she drove the short distance to Howth.
Marianne opened the door looking pale and tired.
‘You look terrible.’ Helen kissed her cheek.
‘Thanks very much,’ Marianne laughed. ‘And good morning to you too!’
‘Well, it’s true; aren’t you sleeping?’ Helen followed her down the hall to the kitchen.
‘I am, but Andrew isn’t. Three nights in a row he’s ended up in bed beside me. I wouldn’t mind but he is such a fidget.’
Dot looked up from her ironing. ‘Hello, love, how are you?’
‘I’m fine thanks; how are you doing?’ Helen went to kiss her noticing that despite Dot’s warm smile, there was still some pain in those lovely green eyes. Marianne had been right not to tell her what Dominic had been up to.
‘Are you all set for the party?’
‘I think so; you’re coming, Dot, aren’t you?’
‘The day I miss a Sheridan do, they’ll be carrying me out the door in a box,’ Dot assured her. ‘I can’t believe that you’ve been married twenty years.’
‘It feels like fifty,’ Helen joked.
‘Tea or coffee, Helen?’
‘Oh, coffee please, Marianne.’
‘Dot?’
‘Nothing for me,’ Dot glanced at the clock. ‘I’m going to pop into town for a while.’ She lifted the pile of ironing in her arms. ‘I’ll just put these away first. Cut some of the fruit cake, Marianne; it’s lovely, even if I do say so myself.’
‘How are things? Any more news?’ Helen whispered when Dot had left them.
&nb
sp; ‘Nothing. I assume you know Johnny is bringing a guy to see the house tomorrow?’ Marianne folded down the ironing board and put it away.
‘Oh, Marianne.’ Helen wasn’t sure what to say. If there was one thing she, Marianne and Jo understood it was the value of having a place to call your own. It must be tearing her apart having to give that up. ‘I’m sure that it will only be temporary.’
‘Yes.’ Marianne forced a smile.
‘Johnny seems fairly confident that this guy would be a good tenant. Are you definitely going ahead with the move to Kilbarrack?’
‘It would be madness not to; it will save us a fortune.’
‘True. How are you coping?’ Helen asked. Marianne seemed to get thinner every time she saw her. ‘It can’t be easy keeping this latest bombshell from Dot.’
‘It’s not,’ Marianne admitted. ‘But I have to. I’m also going to actively start looking for a job.’
‘What would you like to do?’
‘Do you think I’ll have much choice?’ Marianne laughed as she set two mugs of coffee on the table and fetched Dot’s fruit cake.
‘Maybe not but I think there are always jobs for people with very specific skills, and you did very well managing the installation of that new computer system for Treacy Travel.’
‘And I really enjoyed it, but how many small companies do you think are installing new systems these days?’ Marianne pointed out. ‘It would be great to get some kind of work in that area but I won’t hold my breath; I’m ready to give anything a shot.’
‘Me too,’ Dot announced, coming in to collect her handbag.
‘Really?’ Helen found it hard to hide her surprise; Dot would be collecting her pension soon.
‘Absolutely,’ Dot said, and was slipping on her jacket when the doorbell rang. ‘That will be Jo; I’ll let her in. See you later.’
‘Bye, Dot,’ Helen called after her and then turned back to Marianne. ‘Is she serious?’
‘Oh yes, she’s determined to do her bit to bring in some extra cash.’
‘But someone will have to look after the children.’
‘That’s what I said, but she said it won’t stop her doing something part-time.’ Jo came into the kitchen carrying an armful of flowers. ‘Ah, thanks, Jo, you shouldn’t have.’
‘They’re just from the garden, nothing special,’ Jo assured her with a hug before sitting down and kissing Helen’s cheek. ‘Hello, you. How are the party plans coming along?’
‘Fine, Jo, thanks. How’s everyone?’
‘Not a bother.’
‘Marianne’s going back to work,’ Helen told her.
‘No, really?’ Jo looked surprised. ‘Why?’
Marianne shot Helen a warning look. ‘It’s going to take some time before Dominic’s estate is sorted out so I need to earn a living, for the moment anyway.’
‘That’s terrible.’ Jo frowned. ‘If you like I could ask Greg if he could help with the estate—’
‘Thanks, but there’s no need to trouble him, it’s just red tape; I’m sure everything will work out in time.’
‘Of course it will,’ Helen agreed. She understood why Marianne hadn’t confided in Jo. She would tell Greg and then he would probably offer to help sort out her financial problems and then expect to become her full-time accountant. Helen had no real idea of whether he was any good at his job but he was a bit too pushy for her liking and she certainly wouldn’t like him to know all her private business.
‘So, have you applied for any jobs yet?’ Jo asked.
‘No, but I’m going to get all the newspapers today and check the Situations Vacant columns.’
‘You need to put a CV together,’ Helen said, ‘and register with some employment agencies. And be sure to put your details up on some of the major employment websites too. Most of the newer companies mainly advertise online.’
‘Why don’t you ask Treacy Travel for a job?’ Jo suggested, her eyes lighting up. ‘They thought the world of you; I’m sure they’d be thrilled to have you back.’
Marianne pulled a face. ‘They went out of business a few months ago.’
‘Oh, what bad luck.’ Jo sighed. ‘So many companies seem to be closing down these days; I suppose it’s not a great time to be job hunting.’
‘There are always opportunities if you know where to look,’ Helen said with a meaningful look at Jo. ‘With Marianne’s experience she’d be an asset to any small business.’
‘I didn’t mean—’ Jo started.
‘Think of the people I’ll be competing with though,’ Marianne interrupted. ‘They’ll have degrees coming out their ears.’
‘Qualifications aren’t everything. There are plenty of people about who are academically brilliant but useless when it comes to management,’ Helen said. ‘Update your CV and get it out there, Marianne.’
Marianne laughed. ‘Do you know, I haven’t a clue how to go about putting a CV together?’
‘No problem. Write out all the various positions you held and the responsibilities you have had through the years and I’ll do the rest,’ Helen told her, delighted to be able to help in some small way.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Marianne protested.
‘I know but it will make me feel useful and you know me, I love to have a project.’
Marianne leaned over to give her a hug. ‘You’re an angel. I’m delighted to be your project.’
‘Excellent,’ Helen said, feeling happier. She had felt so helpless lately; there was so little she could do to make her best friend feel any better. Her strength had always been in doing rather than talking. She would not only find Marianne a job, she would find her a damn good one too.
‘I’d love a job,’ Jo said, looking wistful.
Helen smiled. ‘Will I do a CV for you too then?’
‘Sure, what would you put on mine? Second-rate housekeeper, rubbish cook and lethal with an iron. Who’d hire me?’
‘I hate it when you put yourself down like that, Jo. You’re a lovely, honest, funny, kind and intelligent woman—’
‘Ah, please!’ Jo waved Marianne’s praise away. ‘I think you’re mixing me up with someone else.’
‘She’s not, Jo, you are all those things and more. So,’ Helen rested her chin in her hand and studied her friend curiously, ‘what would your ideal job be?’
Jo grinned. ‘That’s easy; I’d like to be a judge on one of those talent shows, you know the ones where they press a buzzer when someone is rubbish? My buzzer would be worn out before the first show was over!’
Marianne laughed. ‘That would be fun.’
‘But it’s not likely to happen,’ Helen pointed out, afraid that they were veering away from the subject, and Jo’s lack of confidence bothered her. A job might be exactly what she needed to bring her out of herself more. ‘Come on, Jo, seriously, tell us.’
Jo fiddled with her hair self-consciously. ‘Well, believe it or not, I quite liked working in a shop. I like watching people and I’m fascinated by what they buy.’ She looked at Helen, reddening. ‘I suppose you think that’s silly.’
‘Not at all; I’m fascinated by that too. When I’m queuing at the checkout I’m always peering into the basket in front. I love the weird ones, you know where there are eight packets of chocolate biscuits and a box of low-cal sweeteners.’
Marianne laughed. ‘I do it too!’
‘I wouldn’t want to work in a big, anonymous supermarket, though,’ Jo said, warming to her theme. ‘I’d prefer one of those small shops where you get to know people.’
‘I think you would be really good at that,’ Helen mused. ‘You are so patient and friendly, you’re a shopkeeper’s dream employee. Why don’t you do it, Jo?’ It would be great for her to earn some cash of her own and get out and meet people; her life was much too mundane and solitary.
‘Oh, I don’t think so. My job is looking after the children and Greg.’
‘But they’re out most of the day,’ Marianne reminded her. ‘You could do wha
t Dot’s planning to do and work mornings.’
‘I suppose so,’ Jo said, ‘but I still can’t see anyone hiring me.’
‘Rubbish,’ Helen said. ‘I’d choose a responsible, mature woman any day over a young girl who simply wanted to finance her social life while she went through college.’
‘Or who spent their time daydreaming of winning one of those reality shows instead of working,’ Marianne added with a grin.
Helen studied Jo; she definitely seemed to be considering the idea. It could be the making of her and get her out from under Greg’s thumb. Not that Helen felt Greg was entirely to blame; Jo had scurried under that thumb when she got married and stayed there ever since. It wasn’t surprising given her traumatic childhood, but sometimes Helen did feel sorry for Greg. He thought he was gaining a life partner but instead he’d taken on a dependant. Now he was a grumpy, self-important bugger and no mistake. Still, he was like a choirboy next to Dominic Thomson. Helen thanked the Lord for Johnny; she had fallen on her feet the day she met that man.
‘Let me put together a letter for you, Jo, and you can post it to the shops you’d like to work for.’
‘Oh, Helen, I don’t know . . .’
‘Let me write it at least, you don’t have to send it if you don’t want to.’
‘And even if you do send it off and get an offer, you don’t have to take it,’ Marianne pointed out.
‘Exactly,’ Helen gave her shy friend an encouraging smile. ‘Oh, come on, Jo. What have you got to lose?’
‘Nothing I suppose.’ Jo shrugged. ‘Okay, Helen, write your letter.’
‘Yes!’ Helen gave a triumphant punch in the air and stood up.
Marianne frowned. ‘Where are you off to?’
‘I can’t sit around nattering and drinking tea all day,’ Helen exclaimed with a grin. ‘I’ve got work to do!’
Chapter Eleven
Every Time We Say Goodbye Page 10