Stop being dramatic, it’s only a row, you’ll get over it, she told herself. Trust her to think the worst. She fell asleep again, as the wind whistled outside and the eastern sky began to lighten.
* * *
Neil showered and dressed at a far slower speed than normal. His head was thumping. He had expected to wake up and find it was all a dream. He couldn’t believe that he’d shagged Lorna Morgan. He’d certainly been a more than satisfactory lover, he thought proudly, remembering the way she’d writhed and moaned beneath him, telling him over and over to do it to her. He wouldn’t have minded going again with her this morning, he thought longingly as he began to stiffen. Remembering her words about the night porter, he reluctantly put all thoughts of her out of his head and finished dressing.
‘Morning, Dan,’ he said brazenly as he walked through reception. There was no point in skulking around as if he had something to hide. He was beginning to realize that he’d been far from discreet. If Heather ever found out that he had spent the night with Lorna that would be the end of them. She’d flip bigtime. He hadn’t behaved very well, he acknowledged, but how many men would not take an opportunity when it was presented to them on a plate? And what an opportunity Lorna was. Any red-blooded male would have done the same.
It had all been so unexpected, he thought ruefully as he got into the car and wondered where to go. He really wanted to go back to bed and sleep his hangover off. He could go to his dad’s house if he wanted to, he supposed. Tell him he’d been on the batter and there’d be no questions asked. It was probably his best option.
As he drove past the garage he could see that Heather’s curtains were still drawn and the place was in darkness. He remembered too that the showrooms were in a sorry state and would have to be cleaned up before opening hours the following morning. Neil groaned. Later, he’d worry about all that later. Right now he felt as though red hot pokers were being twisted up inside his skull.
His father chuckled when he said he was dying from drink and told him to get up to bed and he’d do him a big fry-up later on. Ten minutes later, Neil was snoring.
* * *
When Heather woke up the second time, weak sunlight filtered through the curtains. It was still windy, but the rain had stopped. She was hungry. She glanced at her clock. Ten thirty. Half the morning was gone. She’d bought roast beef for dinner but she was damned if she was going to cook Neil Brennan a roast dinner after his cavalier attitude. She wondered dully where he’d spent the night.
She wrapped her dressing-gown around her and went into the kitchen and made herself tea and toast. She sat forlornly at her breakfast counter, smearing butter and marmalade on to the hot toast, lonely for Neil. She’d got so used to having him around. It was nice not having to eat meals on her own. Sunday mornings were always particularly nice. He’d get up and go over to the deli and get croissants and Danish pastries and they’d have them in bed, reading the Sunday papers. When they’d showered and dressed they’d go for a walk around the lake, if she could persuade him. Neil hated walking and did it to humour her.
She’d go on her own, she decided. She could do with some fresh air anyway.
An hour later, dressed in a tracksuit and runners and with her big lilac scarf wrapped around her neck and ears, she set off briskly. Great gusts of wind buffeted her and she was half sorry she’d come, as she almost slipped on a mucky patch. She was even sorrier when a single magpie landed in front of her. What a bad omen, she fretted, anxiously scanning the skies for his mate. Not a sign. Trust her to find the only solitary magpie in Kilronan. After fifteen minutes battling against the wind she turned and walked back the way she’d come. It wasn’t as bad going home. The wind was at her back, which helped enormously. She saw a man trudging in her direction, shoulders down, hands thrust into pockets, head bent into the buffeting wind, and recognized Oliver Flynn. He looked as pissed off as she did.
‘Morning, Oliver,’ she said politely.
‘Morning, Heather. It’s windy,’ he answered, not breaking his stride.
‘You can say that again,’ she agreed, but her words were carried off on the wind and she kept on walking. She glanced at her watch. It was just twelve. People were streaming towards the church gates for last Mass. It wouldn’t kill her to go, she thought glumly. She could do with some spiritual sustenance. She wasn’t really dressed for it though. Trainers and track suit were a tad casual for church in Kilronan. She could sit at the back, not that it really mattered. God wasn’t one for dress codes, she reflected. She was just walking into the porch when she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was her Uncle Gerard.
‘Hello, Heather, we’ve just come from bringing Lorna to the airport. I just wanted to say, I’m glad you’re friends again. It was nice that she spent her last night with you. I hope you’ll get a chance to get out to New York.’
‘Yes dear, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.’ Jane Morgan smiled. ‘Gerard, we’d better go in, the priest has come out to the altar.’
‘See you, Heather.’ Her uncle smiled warmly at her, leaving Heather completely at a loss. What did he mean that Lorna had spent last night with her? She must have been up to something and fibbed. Typical of Lorna, she could have landed her in it rightly.
She sat in the end seat, wondering where her cousin had spent her last night in Kilronan and with whom. The strains of ‘Here I am Lord’ rose up to the rafters as the choir sang lustily.
Yes Lord, here I am and it’s all going wrong. Help, she prayed. Growth opportunity! She was so sure someone had spoken the words aloud she turned her head. Now why had her friend Margaret’s oft-used phrase popped into her mind? Oh no! she groaned silently. Growth opportunity in her experience was never a very happy occurrence. ‘Please Lord let me and Neil be all right,’ she prayed. But she had a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach that something wasn’t quite right and she wished that today of all days she hadn’t seen that bloody single magpie.
After Mass she called home to visit her parents and was persuaded without too much difficulty to stay for lunch. ‘Where’s Neil, why isn’t he with you?’ Anne asked as she spooned meat juices over the roast and put it back into the oven for browning.
‘He’s doing something with his Dad,’ Heather lied, stirring the gravy. The aromas wafting around the kitchen were making her mouth water and after her walk in the fresh air she was starving. She certainly wasn’t the type to lose her appetite during emotional stress, unfortunately, she thought ruefully as she nibbled at a mushy pea that had fallen on to the worktop.
If she came home to live she was going to be the size of an elephant, she thought half an hour later as she gazed at the steaming plate her mother had put in front of her. She cut into a crispy roast potato and dipped it in the rich gravy. Her mother made the most perfect roast potatoes. Crisply roasted on the outside, light and fluffy on the inside, and the beef was melt-in-the-mouth. Heather forgot her worries and tucked in. By the time she’d had a portion of home-made apple crumble she was bursting and annoyed with herself for her gluttony. She need not have had second helpings of everything. Just as well she wasn’t playing a basketball match the following day, she’d be dragging herself around the court like a leaden lump.
After she’d washed up with her mother, she went into the sitting-room and snuggled up on the sofa. The fire was lighting, her father was dozing in his armchair, his paper half-way down his knees, Calamity Jane was on the TV, the wind was howling like a banshee outside. Where would she be going on a day like today? She settled back to watch Doris Day singing ‘The Black Hills of Dakota’ and wondered would Lorna feel the slightest twinge of homesickness or would she take to New York like a duck takes to water? Most likely the latter, Heather reflected. She would go berserk sitting at home on a Sunday afternoon watching TV with her parents. She’d never find comfort in old, familiar routines, that hadn’t changed since childhood. Thank God I’m not in that grotty flat in Dublin. Heather tried to look on the bright side. She was feeling terribly hurt that Nei
l hadn’t contacted her on her mobile. It was mean of him to hold the row, especially when he’d started it. She didn’t feel like going back to the flat and being on her own. She didn’t know if he was going to come home tonight. Well, he could come home if he wanted. She wasn’t going to be there. Tonight she’d sleep in her parents’ house, get up early in the morning and go back to the flat to change for work. That might give him something to think about.
‘Why didn’t you come home last night?’ her boyfriend demanded the following morning when she let herself in to the flat at eight fifteen.
‘Why didn’t you come home the night before?’ she retorted tartly.
‘Sorry, I went on the beer and got pissed. I stayed at Dad’s,’ he confessed sheepishly.
‘Oh! Well, you could have phoned,’ she accused.
‘I didn’t get up until four in the afternoon. Then I took Dad to the pub and when you weren’t here when I got home I figured you might not want to talk to me anyway,’ Neil said defensively. He looked a tad the worse for wear, she admitted.
‘Yeah, well, you behaved like a shit, and you weren’t a bit nice on Saturday, going on the way you did about image and everything. I’m not Lorna and I never will be, so if you want someone like Lorna, go and get them. I’m me and if you think I’m not good enough say it to my face,’ Heather said coldly.
Neil blushed. ‘Sorry. I was way out of line.’
‘Yes, you were.’ She pushed past him into the bedroom and rooted in the wardrobe for a pair of trousers and a jacket. ‘Will these do for work?’ she demanded sarcastically, her pent-up hurt in freeflow.
‘Look, Heather, I really am sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was just up to ninety,’ Neil apologized.
‘Yeah, well, we can’t stand here talking about it now. I’ve to get changed. It will be time to open up soon.’
‘And I haven’t cleaned up after Saturday,’ he groaned.
‘Well, you better get down and do it now,’ she suggested.
‘Will you give me a hand?’ he wheedled.
Heather weakened. She hated rowing, it was horrible. ‘Go on, I’ll be down in a minute.’
He put his arms around her. ‘I’m sorry. You’re the best,’ he said before kissing her. Heather’s heart lifted. They were almost back to normal. All she had to do was try and erase the ‘Lorna insult’ from her memory.
They were almost finished tidying up when she asked him who had he gone on the piss with. ‘You don’t really know them,’ he hedged. ‘I had a bit to eat with Lorna before I went drinking, so at least my stomach was lined,’ he said casually, tying a black plastic sack full of rubbish.
‘With Lorna?’ Heather was astonished.
‘Well, she dropped back the car and she was at a bit of a loose end. She asked me where you were and I said you had a headache. I wasn’t going to tell her we had a row. She seemed a bit disappointed so she asked me did I want to have something to eat because her parents were going out. Bit mean on her last night at home.’
‘Where did you go?’ Heather couldn’t get her head around the idea of Neil and Lorna having a meal together.
‘The hotel,’ Neil said offhandedly.
‘The bar?’
‘Naw, the dining-room!’
‘The dining-room!’ Heather was gobsmacked. ‘The full works?’
‘I didn’t want her to think I was a cheapskate, you know, she has such a poor opinion of me at the best of times,’ Neil said light-heartedly, as he finished tying a second sack.
‘I suppose,’ Heather said sulkily. Lorna and Neil having dinner in the Lake View was just a bit too cosy for her liking. Lorna was such a bitch, she thought resentfully, muscling in on her man. And Heather knew she was just using Neil because she was bored. It was nice of her boyfriend to be so accommodating. She just wished it wasn’t with Lorna.
Neil glanced at her and saw her scowling. ‘You don’t think I enjoyed it? Did you?’ he teased. ‘Lorna! Me! God, she really does spoof. She loves the sound of her own voice. No wonder I got pissed, I was trying to drown my sorrows, listening to her. She’s a rare bird all right. Where they got her from I don’t know. I think she was surprised that I could order a bottle of wine!’
Heather laughed, relieved. ‘Yeah, she’s good at being superior, New York won’t know what’s hit it.’
‘Look, why don’t you and I go and have a nice dinner in the Slieve Russell—’
‘Hmmm, posh,’ Heather said appreciatively.
‘Well, you deserve it,’ Neil declared as he carried the sacks out to the wheely-bins.
Heather took out the mop and filled a bucket with hot water. Dinner in the Slieve Russell sounded lovely. And Lorna was gone out of their hair, so she could forget about her and get on with her life with Neil.
* * *
Neil dumped the bags into the bins and heaved a sigh of relief. That hadn’t been too bad. The row was over and he’d slipped in the news about having dinner with Lorna. Better to hear it from him than someone else. At least if anyone mentioned it to her she’d know about it. He felt he’d carried it off OK. She’d been a bit shocked to hear it was the dining-room of the Lake View and not the bar, but his excuse about not being a cheapskate had mollified her. As long as Dan Leland kept his mouth shut, Neil would be fine. It was a one-night stand. Men had them. It didn’t mean a thing. He glanced up at the sky. Lorna was in America by now. A weekend with her in New York would be something to look forward to, if she agreed to it, but how would he get away with it?
He could always say he was going to a sales conference in the UK, or Europe even. Ford had had a huge sales conference for salesmen from all over Europe, in the Don Carlos in Marbella. It wasn’t unheard of for car salesmen to travel to conferences. He’d think of some way to get around it. He’d worked his butt off the past few years, he deserved some of the good things in life. He hoped she’d contact him. She’d taken his card with his mobile and email address. It was up to her. Would she? Wouldn’t she? He didn’t know. That was part of the attraction, he supposed. He hoped she did. Whistling, he went back into the showrooms, glad to see that Heather was mopping the floor.
28
Heather tucked a pair of clean white socks into her sports bag, made sure she had all her toiletries and hefted it on to her shoulder. She was looking forward to practice; she’d missed it the previous week on account of preparing for the launch and she knew from experience that if she left going for too long her fitness levels slipped rapidly.
‘See you later,’ she called to Neil, who was ensconced in front of the TV drinking beer.
‘Have a good game,’ he called back and she smiled. A game of basketball would do him all the good in the world. She hurried downstairs. She was late; just as well it was only a practice and not a real match. She walked along the main street enjoying the light breeze in her face. The weather had turned mild. The scent of spring was in the air. Buds were bursting out on trees and shrubs and the cherry blossoms were out, swaying in the breeze. What bliss to be at home in springtime. She was so incredibly lucky, she told herself as she raised her face to the sun. It was getting stronger too. There was heat in it, definitely. And the nights were much brighter. She felt alive, exhilarated and happy as she breezed into the changing-room in the sports hall. Women in various stages of undress paused to look when she came in, and was it her imagination, but had conversation come to a halt?
‘Hi,’ she said awkwardly. ‘What’s up?’
‘Not a thing,’ Lena Burton said hurriedly. ‘We were just saying how good St Mary’s are lately. We’re playing them next Saturday so we’d want to get in a good practice today.’
‘Sure,’ Heather agreed. ‘That new player they got is great at long shots.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Norah Sinclair. ‘Let’s get out on court, I intend for us to whop their asses.’ Everyone laughed and Heather relaxed.
They started with lay-ups to warm up and before long were engaged in a keenly fought practice match where no quarter was given. He
ather took possession of the ball, dribbled fast and dodged Norah, to aim at the basket. The shot went in and she felt extremely gratified. She still had a good aim. She might get Neil to put up a basket at the back of the flat so she could practise shooting. It was an extremely satisfying morning and they all agreed to put in some extra practice during the week before their big match.
The following Wednesday night, after practice, she was just going into the loo when she heard Norah and Lena engaged in an argument.
‘I’m telling her. It’s only fair, Norah,’ Lena declared. ‘I’d much prefer if someone told me. If I was in that position.’
‘It’s none of our business, Lena,’ Norah retorted.
‘We’re her friends. It is. Everybody’s talking about it.’
‘Well, wait until after the match, then,’ Norah said angrily. ‘We don’t want her off form.’
Heather turned away, mystified. She didn’t want to barge in on their private conversation. She’d wait until she got home to go to the loo. Whatever was going on, Norah wasn’t allowing it to interfere with the match. Good captain. Had her priorities right, Heather grinned as she left the sports hall and walked briskly towards the garage. She was in fit mode and had been watching what she was eating. She was determined to lose a stone by the summer. Then she’d be able to buy smarter clothes, and Neil would never tell her to take tips from Lorna again. She wondered how her cousin was getting on. Needless to say she hadn’t contacted Heather. Her usual hot potato act. Jane had told Anne that she was living near friends of Carina’s in the suburbs but that she intended getting an apartment in Manhattan. She was loving it, Jane said.
Neil was at his computer when she popped into the showroom, which to her surprise was still open. He was engrossed in an email, most unlike him, she thought in surprise as she bent to kiss the top of his head. Neil hated computers and could make a hames of the slightest little thing. He’d mastered email only after a couple of hours tutorial from her.
‘Hi,’ she greeted him.
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