Two For Joy

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Would you like to go clubbing?’ he asked. ‘We could go to Renard’s, it’s not too far.’

  ‘Fine,’ she agreed. ‘Why not? It’s early yet.’ It was only eleven thirty.

  ‘If you don’t mind we won’t stay too late. I’ve a race tomorrow and I had a hard day today.’ He barely managed to hide a yawn.

  ‘Oh, don’t go on my account,’ Lorna interjected, a tad miffed. Feck his race. He should be making sure that she was having a good night. She didn’t want to seem too eager though, and although she would have loved to see Renard’s she knew she couldn’t afford to drink too much, as she could end up disgracing herself by puking on the way home. The rich sauce that had dressed her prawns was already giving her a touch of indigestion.

  ‘Are you sure, Lorna?’ He sounded relieved. ‘Maybe next weekend, I don’t have to race next Sunday.’ Bryan couldn’t hide his relief as he yawned again.

  So there’s going to be next weekend, she thought happily. Great!

  ‘You look as if you could do with some beauty sleep,’ she said airily, glad that they didn’t have to walk too far to the car. Her ankle was beginning to ache.

  ‘Is that an invitation?’ Bryan said wickedly and she laughed.

  ‘Subtle you’re not, Bryan,’ Lorna remarked and was rather stunned when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

  ‘You’re gorgeous,’ he murmured huskily against her ear.

  ‘I try to please, but not here,’ she murmured pushing him away.

  Further down the street a youth was puking, his friends laughing at him. It was gross. Anyway she just didn’t like the unromantic way Bryan had launched himself upon her. Sixteen-year-olds did that. They didn’t talk much on the way home and as they got nearer to Malahide she couldn’t decide whether to put him off or ask him in and get it over with. She liked him well enough. He had been a courteous and generous escort and he was good-looking and attractive, all she wanted in a man. He’d surely be an experienced lover. Tonight could be the night.

  His kiss had been hungry. He wanted her. That gave her power already, she thought, as Bryan parked outside her apartment and got out of the car and opened the door for her.

  ‘Well, lovely Lorna?’ he asked meaningfully.

  ‘I had a very nice time, Bryan.’ She eased herself gracefully out of the car. ‘Would you like to come up for coffee?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you were going to ask.’ He grinned at her and she laughed. He was honest about it anyway and she decided there and then to go for it. He followed her into the lounge, his arm around her waist, and she liked the feeling it gave her.

  ‘So. Coffee?’ she arched an eyebrow at him. ‘Aren’t you afraid it will keep you awake? And you with a race to run tomorrow.’

  ‘Is coffee all I’m going to be offered?’ he asked huskily.

  ‘It’s only our first date,’ Lorna reminded, slipping into his arms.

  ‘I know, will you respect me in the morning?’ His green eyes twinkled.

  Lorna laughed. Bryan was nice, she thought happily, as she raised her lips to him and he kissed her soundly. He slipped his fingers up under her top and she was thrilled to feel her nipples harden and quivers begin to tingle deep in her pelvis. He was very experienced, she realized that immediately the way he caressed her and she gave herself up to the pleasure of his touch, relieved beyond measure that her body was responding.

  She led him into the bedroom and they undressed each other, slowly, sensuously.

  ‘Sorry the bed’s so small,’ she murmured. ‘I was last into the apartment.’

  ‘All the better, lots of body contact.’ Bryan gazed at her naked body in admiration. ‘You’re a sexy woman, Lorna, I wanted you the minute I set eyes on you,’ he whispered against her hair as he eased her down on the bed and entered her. He was considerate, she couldn’t fault him, whispering her name, asking if he was giving her pleasure, but her quivers and tingles had faded away and all she could think of was how heavy he was and that his breath was flavoured with beer and chilli, which was almost as bad as garlic. She pretended to come, breathing his name and groaning and moaning into his shoulder as his arms tightened around her and he gave a long, satisfied sigh before rolling off her.

  ‘That was great,’ he said drowsily, his rumpled hair making him look younger. ‘Pity you don’t have a double bed, I could stay the night. Next time we’ll go to my place. And I promise I’ll make you the best Buck’s Fizz you ever had.’

  ‘Mmm, sounds good,’ she murmured. She couldn’t wait for him to go, so that she could sob her disappointment into her pillow and curse her mother for that aching, horrible memory that wouldn’t go away.

  15

  Heather yawned. She was knackered. Sleeping on a fold-away bed in Ruth’s room was not conducive to getting a good night’s sleep. She’d been at Ruth’s for the past ten days and she knew that she’d want to get her ass in gear and get a place of her own sooner rather than later. It wasn’t fair to be cluttering up her sister’s room. Heather was finding it extremely unsettling. She was sleeping badly and dragging herself into work every day and she was finding it hard to concentrate.

  She had a viewing arranged for tonight, from six to six thirty, so it wouldn’t be too late when she got home, she comforted herself. Right now she felt like putting her head down on her arms and sleeping her brains out, but somehow she didn’t think it would go down too well with her boss who was sitting scowling into space. The atmosphere in the office had not improved since the ‘non-reference’ debacle. Two days later an apartment owner had walked in on one of her colleagues, Tommy Walsh, shagging his girlfriend enthusiastically in the apartment he was meant to be showing with a view to letting. The owner had been mightily unimpressed and had taken her business to another letting agency. Both Tommy and Edith had been on the carpet, Edith for not having more control over her staff, Tommy for his complete lack of professionalism. He hadn’t been sacked because they were short of staff, but he told Heather he was going to leave anyway, and they could stick their crappy job.

  Heather cursed as she typed in the wrong figure, and wearily pressed the delete key. She was sending out an invoice to a landlord. It had to be correct. It had been a relief to let that particular apartment. It had been on the market for over a month and the slowdown in property and rentals was becoming more noticeable. She hoped the one she was showing tonight would move quickly; she didn’t want Edith breathing down her neck.

  The day dragged, and by the time she’d made her way to the apartment in Smithfield she was completely browned off, the only saving grace the fact that she wasn’t too far from home. Ruth wanted her to go to a booze-up in the Turk’s Head in Temple Bar and she knew they’d end up in the nightclub downstairs. All she could think of was bed. Even if it was lumpy and springy. How pathetic she was! You’d think she was ninety the way she was going on.

  She should go out with Ruth. She was turning into a right couch potato and that should be nipped in the bud immediately. Sometimes she felt totally inadequate when she saw the girls at work heading out enthusiastically night after night. She just wasn’t particularly interested in sitting in pubs or nightclubs. Lorna had always made her feel a social failure in that respect. But maybe that was because she wanted Heather to go out with her. She’d just been using her.

  It was different going out with Ruth. At least she knew she’d have a bit of a laugh with her sister. She would go out tonight, she decided. A couple of drinks would ensure that she’d sleep no matter what. And she might even meet a nice guy. She’d met Ruth’s new boyfriend, Peter, and had to admit that her sister had landed on her feet. He was funny, kind, handsome, and it was clear that he and Ruth had really clicked. Heather got on like a house on fire with him and he’d been great about inviting her out with them. She was conscious of being the proverbial gooseberry and had only gone out on the razz with them twice but it was high time she got a life of her own, and even a man of her own, she thought wryly as she pressed the pr
int key and watched her document slide smoothly out of the printer.

  At four thirty she’d had enough of work. She was going to go home, have a shower and get changed. She could go directly to Temple Bar after she’d finished showing the apartment. She tidied her desk, shut down her computer and stood up. ‘I’m off,’ she announced. Edith looked at her in surprise and threw a look at the board.

  ‘You’re not showing until six thirty,’ she remarked coldly.

  Heather was raging. What a cow! This was the first time that she’d left the office early in all the time she’d worked there. And why had she picked on Heather? Edith never said anything to the others when they left early if they had an evening viewing. She eyeballed her boss frostily. ‘Correct, Edith, but if I took all the time I was owed, I wouldn’t be here for a week. And if I skived off a bit more like you and some of the others, I still wouldn’t make it up.’

  Edith’s jaw dropped. Heather had never spoken to her like that before. In fact Heather was one of the best she’d ever worked with. ‘Well, if you’re due time, that’s fine, I’m sure. There’s no need to be so rude!’ She wore a deeply wounded expression.

  Heather, uncharacteristically, didn’t apologize. She was fed up with being treated like a doormat and had come to the conclusion that people took advantage of her because she was too nice and too soft. So no more Miss Nice Girl. She marched out of the office with her head in the air, leaving Edith open-mouthed.

  ‘That told her,’ Heather muttered as she took the lift to the ground floor. She was rather shocked at her outburst, but it had shut Edith up and she might think twice about picking on her again.

  That was twice in the last couple of weeks that she’d stood up for herself, she thought as she walked briskly along the rain-swept street. She was definitely getting more assertive and it felt good. She remembered Lorna’s phone call and scowled. It had infuriated her that Lorna would think that all she had to do was ask her out for a drink and everything would be fine between them.

  Her cousin was incredibly self-centred, but maybe her doing the hot potato act on Heather might have been the best thing that had ever happened to her – the ‘growth opportunity’ her friend Margaret had talked about. Now that she’d asserted herself a couple of times she was damned if she was going to take bad treatment from anyone any more.

  At seven forty-five she got a phone call from Ruth inquiring about her whereabouts. ‘I’m on the quays, won’t be long,’ she puffed. She really wasn’t fit. She’d have to get in trim.

  ‘Oh, I’m just at the Halfpenny Bridge, I’ll wait for you at the Clarence,’ Ruth said cheerfully.

  ‘OK, won’t be a minute.’ Heather put on a spurt, weaving in and out of late-night shoppers, and before long could see her sister looking casually chic in jeans, suede boots and figure-hugging black polo under her black fur-trimmed coat.

  Heather, wearing a pair of black trousers and a jade chenille jumper that covered her ass, wished heartily that she had her sister’s slender figure. She’d been comfort eating for the past month over the stress of moving flats and the waistband of the trousers was uncomfortably tight. She longed to wear a jumper tucked into jeans but her rear at the moment was not for viewing. Her short jumpers were packed in a black plastic sack and long and relatively loose was currently the wardrobe of the day.

  ‘Hi.’ Ruth gave her an affectionate hug and they strolled along chatting about the events of their day. They were walking past Eden when the doors opened and a gaggle of laughing girls spilled out on to the footpath. Heather and Ruth were about to circle around them when they bumped right into Lorna.

  ‘Oh! Oh, hi,’ their cousin said brightly as the other girls moved off.

  Ruth glared at her, ‘Well, hey! If it isn’t Cowardy-Custard-Morgan. You know … the one who does a runner at the weekend and doesn’t even have the guts to say she’s moving out. Don’t you dare say hi to us.’

  ‘Oh, shut up, you,’ Lorna flared, clearly taken aback. ‘I’m sorry, Heather, if you’re still upset, but I did explain in my letter that I had to make a decision on the spo—’

  ‘Why don’t you just run along to your new friends, just think, you can puke in their handbags now. I’m sure they’re much more up-market than mine was,’ Ruth said cuttingly. ‘Come on, Heather.’

  ‘Yeah, go on, Heather, let little twinnie tell you what to do like she always does,’ Lorna jeered. ‘Well, I’m glad I moved to Malahide. I’ve made great new friends that aren’t mouldy old stick-in-the-muds. I live in a fabulous apartment and I’ve got a dishy, rich boyfriend who thinks I’m the bee’s knees,’ she boasted.

  ‘The poor deluded git,’ Heather retorted coldly. ‘He’ll find out what a user you are too, just like poor old Derek Kennedy.’

  ‘Bitches!’ Lorna swore as she stalked off. Heather and Ruth looked at each other and started to laugh.

  ‘She’s so childish,’ Ruth shook her head in disbelief. ‘I’ve got a dishy, rich boyfriend and he thinks I’m the bee’s knees,’ she mimicked her cousin. ‘She’s a sad wagon.’

  ‘She looked fantastic,’ Heather noted enviously. Lorna had been dressed to the nines in tan leather trousers and matching jacket. That was definitely it, she decided. She was starting another diet on Monday. There was a great three-day one that was guaranteed to lose ten pounds and you could even have ice-cream on it. Come Monday morning she’d be having two teaspoons of peanut butter on dry toast for breakfast. It was that kind of diet. And she wouldn’t go overboard on the sauce tonight either. She could do without the calories and the hangover. Meeting Lorna had given her a jolt and she’d seen the way her cousin’s eyes had flicked up and down over her, checking out what she was wearing. Well, one day Lorna was going to see her and her eyes were going to pop out of her head, she’d look so stunning, Heather vowed.

  The booze-up was great fun. Heather thoroughly enjoyed herself and was first to agree to heading downstairs to the nightclub at closing time. The encounter with Lorna had been unexpected but in some strange way it was like the tie had finally been cut and Lorna was out of her life. And the great thing was, it didn’t matter any more. That was the liberating thing. She’d seen her cousin with her new swanky friends and it didn’t bother her. Since their childhood, she’d been Lorna’s little handmaiden, and now it was over and she didn’t care.

  She was in flying form, thanks to one Bud too many. Heather grinned at Ruth as they bopped effervescently to Kylie. ‘I’m really glad I came out tonight.’

  ‘Say that to me in the morning,’ laughed her twin knowingly.

  The following morning, Heather packed her weekend bag, trying to ignore her throbbing head. ‘I’m never going out with you again,’ she groaned as her sister breezed into the bedroom looking as fresh as a daisy.

  ‘Here’s a cup of coffee and a bacon sandwich, that will fix you,’ Ruth declared kindly.

  ‘Oh, thanks!’ Heather brightened up. Hangover or not, she was hungry.

  ‘I’d better fly. Tell the parents I was asking for them and tell them I’ll be down with Peter on Sunday.’ She sprayed some Allure in the direction of her neck, grabbed her bag and ran. Heather sat on Ruth’s bed, took a bite out of the hot bacon sandwich, relishing the oozing melting butter, then sipped her coffee. She was so looking forward to going home. Tonight she’d be sleeping in her own snug, comfortable bed and tomorrow she was going to walk the round of the lake and breathe in that rich, clear, fresh, frosty country air. Not even Edith Palmer could put a dent in her good humour today, she smiled, as she applied her make-up.

  Edith couldn’t have been nicer to her as it happened. It pays to stand up for yourself, Heather thought in amusement as her boss gave her a saccharine smile and thanked her profusely when she handed her some references to inspect.

  At six p.m. she was standing on the quays in gale-force winds and pouring rain, waiting for the Kilronan bus. The weather was atrocious and she was longing to get her seat on the bus and immerse herself in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of
Azkaban, the third part of the Harry Potter series. She’d been babysitting for a friend of hers in Kilronan one night and out of boredom, and interested in seeing what all the fuss was about, she’d picked up Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone and started to read it. After the first chapter she was hooked. As soon as that damn bus arrived she was going to stick her nose in her book and enjoy the journey home. A sharp beep of a car horn made her jump and she saw a dark blue BMW pull in to the bus stop. Somebody must be getting a lift, she thought, as she peered along the lines of traffic to see if there was any sign of the Kilronan bus. It was dark and rain blurred her eyes, and she couldn’t really see.

  ‘Heather! Heather, do you want a lift?’ Someone was calling her name, a vaguely familiar voice. Startled, she looked in at the driver and saw Neil Brennan smiling out at her. Her heart gave a little lurch. She hadn’t seen much of her old boyfriend since she had given him his marching orders. He was the last person she’d expected to offer her a lift. ‘Come on, get in. It’s a horrible night and the traffic’s crap and I’d better get out of here.’

  Oh God! she dithered, but he had the door open and automatically she passed him her bag and he threw it on to the back seat. Before she knew it, she was sitting in the plush passenger seat and Neil was moving out into the traffic.

  ‘So! How are you, Heather?’ Neil flashed her a sheepish grin. ‘Can we let bygones be bygones?’

  She laughed. ‘Of course we can,’ she said easily, not being one to hold a grudge. ‘You’re doing well. I like the wheels.’

  ‘Not bad, sure they’re not. Oh, Heather, it’s been a hell of a year,’ he said eagerly. ‘Wait until I tell you…’ He launched off into a description of how he’d finally got a financial package together and how Oliver Flynn had agreed to build his showrooms for him. ‘I wouldn’t go to anyone else locally, Oliver’s a great builder. There’s no messing at all. He does what he says he’ll do,’ he observed as the rain battered against the windows and the wipers swished rhythmically, creating a lullaby of their own.