Two For Joy

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Me too,’ Lorna assured him earnestly.

  ‘Do you think they’d let us use the residents’ lounge? We could have another drink?’ he asked.

  Lorna patted his arm drunkenly. ‘I’ve a better idea, leave it to me.’

  Ten minutes later they were in one of the unoccupied mini suites with another bottle of champagne on ice.

  ‘My treat.’ Lorna giggled.

  ‘What a woman!’ Neil declared. ‘You’re way too much woman for the likes of Kilronan. You go pop your cork in New York.’

  ‘Do you mean that?’ Lorna murmured seductively.

  ‘Of course I do. Take New York by the scruff of the neck and shake it.’ Neil held up his glass in a toast.

  ‘No, do you mean the bit about being way too much woman?’

  ‘Are you crazy? I think you’re magnificent! I didn’t like you when I first knew you, I thought you were a stuck-up cow,’ he admitted, his tongue loosened by all he’d had to drink. ‘But after tonight, talking to you over dinner, and getting to know you, I think you’re something else,’ he said warmly, his eyes glittering with admiration as he gazed at her.

  ‘I didn’t like you either. I thought you were a country bumpkin.’ She giggled again.

  ‘I know you did. You were a snooty, superior wagon. And now?’ he grinned wolfishly.

  ‘I guess I made a mistake,’ she murmured, swaying into his arms. They kissed passionately, lustfully.

  ‘We shouldn’t do this,’ Neil muttered when he came up for air.

  ‘I know,’ Lorna agreed and kissed him again, tugging at his shirt buttons.

  ‘Oh, Lorna,’ he groaned. ‘You’re dead sexy. I want you.’

  ‘I want you too.’ Lorna could feel the desire curling inside her and an immensely satisfying feeling of triumph that she had conquered him. They undressed each other frantically and he lifted her up and carried her to the bed. ‘Come on,’ she moaned. ‘Come on, do it to me.’ He needed no second invitation. She wasn’t sure if she came or not, she was so smashed, but she had a vague feeling that the quivers lasted the whole time, not dying away as they usually did, and she would have liked him to do it to her again but he’d fallen asleep very quickly afterwards.

  Lorna lay beside him, her head swimming. It had been better than anything she’d had with a man before, she thought woozily. What an irony. A man she had most despised was the one who had given her most pleasure sexually. She knew if she pushed hard he’d leave Heather for her at the drop of a hat. That thought too gave her immense satisfaction. But she’d hold him in reserve. New York and its millionaires were waiting for her.

  The phone woke her out of a deep, dreamless sleep. It was the night porter. ‘Aren’t you going to New York today?’ he asked. ‘You’d want to get moving.’

  ‘Oh shit! What time is it?’ She leapt up and ran her fingers through her hair. Beside her, Neil snored contentedly.

  ‘It’s ten to seven, do you want coffee or anything?’

  ‘Thanks, Dan, don’t have time. I better get going, ’bye.’ Her parents would be going berserk. They were driving her to the airport and they’d want to leave by eight. She picked up her mobile and rang home. Her father answered, sleepily, she noted with relief. ‘I’ll be home in ten minutes. Get up, Dad,’ she instructed.

  ‘Where are you?’ her father asked groggily.

  ‘Heather’s,’ she fibbed. ‘See you soon, ’bye.’ She raced into the shower and stood under the steaming jets feeling like hell on earth. She should never have drunk so much last night. She was her own worst enemy. Neil was still sleeping by the time she’d dried her hair and dressed. She gazed at him in irritation. ‘Big lazy lump,’ she muttered crossly, not feeling quite as fond of him as she had the previous night.

  ‘Wake up, Neil.’ She poked him roughly.

  ‘Wha … what’s wrong, Heather?’

  ‘It’s not Heather, it’s me,’ Lorna said coldly.

  ‘Oh crikey! Lorna. Sorry … sorry about that. I was half asleep,’ he apologized profusely, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. ‘Oohh, I feel rough,’ he groaned. ‘How much did we drink last night?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I have to go. I’ll be late getting to the airport. You better get going too, I gave Dan Leeland thirty smackers for this room, he’ll have to have it made up before room service get here.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, right!’ He looked at her admiringly. ‘I suppose we don’t have time for a quickie?’

  ‘No we don’t, Neil Brennan,’ she snapped. ‘Look, I’m going. I’ll see you when I see you.’

  ‘Hey, wait. Look, don’t go like that. Here, take my card. Keep in touch with me on my mobile or email,’ he said hastily.

  ‘Give it to me, quick.’ She practically snatched the card from him and stuffed it in her bag.

  ‘I’d a great time last night, I’ll never forget it,’ Neil said quietly. Lorna looked at him, stubble-faced and tousled, and felt her heart soften.

  ‘I did too, Neil. It will be one of my better memories of Kilronan.’ She smiled at him and leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Not a word to Heather.’

  ‘Definitely not,’ he grinned and waved at her as she slipped out of the room.

  She hurried to the lift, sizzling with impatience, two jack-hammers beating a tattoo inside her head. She felt queasy as it glided silently to the lamplit, empty foyer. ‘Dan, thanks a million for waking me, see you whenever.’ She blew the night porter a kiss as she flew past reception, out into the dark, blustery morning. It was a nuisance having no car, and as usual her shoes weren’t the best for walking. At least she didn’t have too far to walk.

  It was only half past seven by the time she got home and she congratulated herself on her speed. Adrenaline was flowing. She could go to sleep in the car, she promised herself as she let herself into the house. Her father was standing in the kitchen munching brown bread and marmalade.

  ‘There’s coffee in the pot,’ he pointed to the coffee percolator. ‘You could have let us know you were staying over at Heather’s.’

  ‘It was a spur of the moment thing, and besides you were out yourself,’ she retorted, pouring a cup of hot strong coffee for herself.

  ‘I’m glad you and Heather are friends again.’ He patted her arm ‘Heather’s always been a good friend to you.’

  ‘Yeah, Dad,’ Lorna said uncomfortably. If he’d seen what she was up to last night he’d be totally horrified, and she would be off her pedestal so quick it didn’t bear thinking about. ‘Look, I’m just going upstairs to change my clothes. Is Mum coming?’

  Gerard nodded. ‘She’s having her shower. She’s really looking forward to visiting you. I haven’t seen her in such good form for years.’

  ‘That’s good, Dad.’ Lorna planted a hasty kiss on his cheek and his eyes lit up with pleasure.

  ‘I’ll miss you,’ he said. ‘Even though we didn’t see you that much when you were in Dublin, you were only an hour and a half’s drive away, not a six-hour flight across the Atlantic.’

  ‘It’s only for a while, Dad, not for ever. Now I’d better go get sorted.’

  Thank God I packed last night, she thought gratefully as she surveyed the two large cases on her bedroom floor. One of them was practically empty but was being brought to accommodate her shopping for the return flight home. She eased her legs out of her leather trousers and pulled her black polo over her head. For the trip to New York she’d chosen a taupe trouser suit and a black T-shirt. She’d carry her snug pure wool coat on her arm, in case it was freezing cold in the Big Apple. After all, it was still only the beginning of February.

  Her head throbbed and she swallowed two Panadol, wishing she’d at least drunk water the previous night as she sometimes did when she’d been on the tear. She’d slept with Neil Brennan, Heather’s boyfriend, she thought with a vague sense of astonishment as she gazed at herself in the mirror. Her cornflower blue eyes were puffy and red. Her hair, which hadn’t been dried properly with the hotel hairdryer, was not its us
ual sleek bob. It was too late to do anything with it now, she thought grimly as she rubbed gel between her fingers and tried to calm her flyaway fringe.

  It was her own fault for not going home. Imagine having dinner in the hotel and then going to a room with Neil. It would be all over the town. She must have been mad. Still, Heather wouldn’t be stuffing that relationship nonsense down her neck again, if she ever found out. Lorna was still smarting at her cousin’s smug jibe. Her mother knocked on the door and peered in. She looked as if she’d just stepped out of Vogue in her smart Louise Kennedy trouser suit.

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’ Lorna wrinkled her nose.

  ‘We’d want to go. Say goodbye to your brothers.’

  ‘I’m not waking them up, they’d kill me,’ Lorna said indignantly. ‘Tell them I said goodbye when you get back.’

  Gerard appeared at her door. ‘Let me take those cases. Go and get in the car.’

  If only she hadn’t got the mother and father of a hangover, this would be the most exciting moment of her life. Leaving a dark, quiet backwater town for the bright lights of the most famous city in the world was a once in a lifetime experience and she’d ruined it by drinking too much. By the time Gerard’s Volvo had cruised past Neil Brennan’s showrooms, her hangover was really kicking in, and she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

  She did sleep, in fits and starts, and as there was little or no traffic on the road at that hour of a Sunday morning, her father made good time to the airport so that she was standing in departures at nine thirty peering around for Carina. ‘Look, you go on, we’ll probably have coffee after we check in and then we’ve got to go through immigration. There’s no point in you hanging around,’ she said to her parents.

  ‘We’ll wait until Carina arrives,’ her father told her firmly. ‘Imagine if she didn’t show up and we had to turn back from wherever we were to collect you.’

  ‘There she is. Now go,’ Lorna ordered as she saw her friend struggling with her case at the entrance. ‘Thanks very much for the money, Dad,’ she added. Her father had given her five thousand dollars in traveller’s cheques.

  ‘It will probably only buy you a pair of trousers in Armani’s or wherever, knowing your taste in designer labels,’ he teased, ‘but have a good time and don’t become an illegal. Come back when your time’s up.’ He hugged her tightly and to her dismay she felt a lump rise in her throat. She swallowed hard and turned to her mother.

  ‘Mum, see you soon. I’ll check everything out as soon as I get there and phone you. Give me about six weeks to get settled.’

  ‘Have a great time. I’ll be dying to hear all about it,’ Jane said animatedly. Her father was right, Lorna reflected. She’d never seen her mother so sparkly about anything.

  ‘Go on now, I hate long drawn out goodbyes,’ Lorna said gruffly, giving both of them a little shove. She turned her back on them and walked towards the monitors where Carina was looking for their check-in desk. When she turned to look back her parents were gone. That was the best way to have it, Lorna thought with relief. Sentimentality was not her style.

  ‘Hi.’ She marched up to Carina. ‘Did you come here on your own?’

  ‘My dad dropped me at the set-down, I didn’t want fond farewells.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ Lorna said ruefully. ‘I hope to God it’s not a bumpy flight or I’ll puke. I’ve the mother and father of a hangover.’

  ‘Me too,’ groaned Carina. ‘I’m never drinking VRBs again. Ever!’ she added vehemently.

  ‘Wait until we get to New York. I believe the cocktails are toxic! They serve them neat.’

  ‘I’m staying on the dry,’ Carina retorted. ‘I wonder is the bar open yet?’

  ‘Let’s have a coffee,’ Lorna suggested weakly. The thought of alcohol made her queasy.

  They found their check-in and joined the long straggly queue. Everyone seemed to have huge amounts of luggage and it seemed to take for ever before they were hauling their cases up on to the conveyer belt and assuring the ground hostess that they had indeed packed their own cases.

  ‘I think we should have our coffee in the departure lounge, we’ve to do the immigration stuff too.’ Lorna glanced at her watch.

  ‘OK,’ Carina agreed wearily. ‘Look at us! Like two wet rags, we should be shot. I couldn’t bear the thought of duty free. I’ve bought a whole load of vacuum-packed rashers and sausages in my case for the gang in Yonkers. That will have to do them, we can get drink on the plane for them. I think I just want to die,’ she moaned.

  ‘I know, me too,’ Lorna agreed as they trudged to the security check before going airside.

  ‘It’s a bit shabby down here,’ Lorna murmured in disappointment twenty minutes later as they filled in their immigration forms in the transatlantic departure area.

  ‘And the fucking coffee bar’s closed,’ Carina swore.

  ‘I thought it would be really jet setty and glamorous.’ Lorna gazed around, unimpressed by the drabness of it all as she queued to give her card to a bored immigration officer. ‘The departure lounges for Europe and the UK are far superior. Still, I suppose we’re lucky we can go through immigration at this side instead of having to do it when we get there. I’ll run upstairs and get us a coffee.’

  ‘OK.’ Carina collapsed on to a hard chair and closed her eyes.

  Lorna made her way upstairs, after an argument with one of the immigration officials, who told her in no uncertain terms she should stay where she was.

  ‘Look, buster, the coffee bar’s not open. My friend and I have hangovers to die for and if you don’t want us puking all over this kippy hole you’ll let me go upstairs for coffee.’ Lorna was in no mood to be trifled with.

  ‘OK, lady, just this once.’ He backed off hastily.

  ‘Yeah, well, if your coffee bar was open I wouldn’t have to go to the trouble of going upstairs,’ Lorna snarled.

  ‘Nothing to do with—’ but Lorna was gone, leaving the man to protest to thin air.

  The queue to the self-service upstairs was out the door and Lorna nearly cried in frustration, twenty minutes later, as a foreign tourist in front of her spent ten minutes sorting out loose coins to pay for her big fry-up. Lorna practically shoved her out of the way to pay an arm and a leg for two mugs of coffee and two Danish.

  ‘What a rip off,’ she panted as she finally plonked the tray in front of Carina, who looked a bit green around the gills. ‘Here, drink this, it will sort you.’

  They had to gulp the last of their coffee as the gate opened to board and as she finally made her way on to the huge Airbus she couldn’t help the way her heart pounded with excitement. She was going to New York and one day, she promised herself, she’d never turn right into economy on an aircraft again. It would be left and first class all the way.

  They sorted themselves and their hand luggage and sank gratefully into their seats. ‘Get a bottle of vodka and a bottle of gin, if you’re allowed, and wake me when we get to New York,’ Carina instructed as she tucked her little white pillow under her head and promptly fell asleep, before they’d even taxied off the apron.

  As the huge jet rose into the air, Lorna felt tense with excitement. This was it. Life was giving her a chance to make it big and she was going to take it. All around her there was a buzz of excitement and anticipation that she’d never experienced on a charter flight to the Med. This was so different, it was thrilling, she thought giddily wondering how Carina could sleep through it all. She flicked through the in-flight magazine and the duty-free brochure. She wanted some Yves Saint Laurent Touche Éclat, she needed it badly, she thought ruefully.

  What a night. What a morning. In her wildest dreams she’d never thought that she’d end up having sex with Neil Brennan and, what was more, half enjoying it. Maybe she wasn’t as abnormal as she thought. Hopefully her hang-up about sex was disappearing. She could put that memory of her mother out of her head once and for all. If she could enjoy sex with Neil, she could enjoy i
t with anyone, surely. He could come to New York for a dirty weekend if he wanted, she’d enjoy that. But that was it, she decided. Heather could have him. She had new fish to fry. Big fish to fry. The adventure was just beginning.

  27

  Heather shivered and sleepily stretched her hand out to feel for Neil. He wasn’t there. She lay, puzzled for a minute, before memories of their row flooded in. Her heart gave a painful little lurch. He hadn’t come home at all. She glanced at the small luminous clock on the bedside table. Seven thirty. She’d slept well considering, she thought in surprise as she reached down and turned on the electric blanket. Lorna would probably be on her way to the airport, she remembered. She’d been a bit abrupt with her yesterday, she thought guiltily, nor had she wished her well for her trip to New York.

  The heat of the blanket infused warmth into the bed and she snuggled under the duvet. In the distance she could hear the lowing of cattle, so different from the harsh roar of traffic she’d woken to in Dublin. A few months ago she’d been living in the city and hating it. And, until yesterday, she’d been the happiest girl in the universe, until Neil had made his horrible crack about getting tips from Lorna. He couldn’t have picked a more hurtful remark if he’d spent hours trying to think of something to say to wound her.

  Why had he said it to her? Had he stopped fancying her? She’d seen him eyeing Lorna appreciatively in the gym. All the time they’d been living and socializing together, Heather had got used to men only having eyes for Lorna. That was one of the reasons Neil was so special to her. He’d never made her feel she was inferior to her cousin. Until yesterday she’d always felt confident with Neil. Now he’d ruined it.

  If the relationship was over, she could hardly stay working for him, she thought glumly. And she’d have to go home and live at her mother’s, but she was damned if she was going back to Dublin. If she had to get work as a housemaid in the hotel she’d do it, to continue living in Kilronan.