Furious, mortified, Neil walked out of the church grounds knowing that he’d be the talk of the town tomorrow and, even worse, knowing that his image as a sophisticated, successful businessman had just been shot to hell.
Scarlet-cheeked that so many neighbours had witnessed her public humiliation, Lorna slipped into the black limo and scowled at the two smirking faces of her brothers. She could see Heather and Oliver laughing, looking towards the limo. They were laughing at her. The cheek of them! How dare they. She, who had come back home intent on making a dazzling impression, was the laughing stock of the town. It was too much to bear, especially when her father got into the car and gave her an uncharacteristically cold, unfriendly look and said icily, ‘I think you have some explaining to do, Lorna.’
Her sophisticated façade dissolved in an instant. She couldn’t call it back. Sitting in front of her flint-eyed father, she felt about seven years old. She hated Kilronan and everyone in it, but most of all right now she hated Heather and Oliver Flynn.
* * *
‘Well, all doesn’t look well in Love’s Happy Garden,’ Oliver whispered to Heather from where they’d been observing the fracas that had just taken place. ‘I know this isn’t the place for it, but I bet that gave you some amount of satisfaction.’ His eyes twinkled down at her.
Heather giggled, half with shock, half with amusement. Oliver was right. To see Lorna engage in a slanging match, and then to see Neil get his face slapped, had been deeply, deeply satisfying. And she didn’t mind admitting it to Oliver – after all, he would understand it more than most.
It was obvious they were finished. She didn’t care who Neil saw now. And then for Anne to interfere and send Lorna off to her limo with her tail between her legs had been almost too good. Both Ruth and her mother had had a go at Lorna. They must think she was an awful wimp not to be able to stand up for herself. But when she’d seen Lorna in the funeral parlour earlier, all dolled up like a dog’s dinner, looking like someone out of a cheap TV soap, she’d thought how pathetic her cousin was and remembered Anne Jensen saying that she was jealous of all Heather had in her life.
All Lorna had were her posh frocks and silly notions. Heather couldn’t even be bothered engaging with her. What was the point? She was back on track again, she had a great new job with a bright future ahead of her and the right man on the periphery of her life, or so she’d been told.
‘Will you take him back if he comes running?’ Oliver was curious. His mother was standing among a group of pensioners, in her element, so he had time to stop and chat for a while.
‘Will I take him back? Are you mad, Oliver? What would I want him for?’
‘But didn’t you love him?’ he probed.
Heather frowned. ‘Oh, Oliver. I’ve been asking myself that question over and over. I thought I did. But I mustn’t have loved him enough. Maybe I was in love with the idea of being in love. I don’t know. If I’d really loved him I’m sure I’d want him back but I don’t. I think my pride was hurt, more than my heart. That’s a sad admission to make, isn’t it?’
‘No, not at all. It’s an honest one. So is this the end of the moping?’ he teased.
‘Oliver Flynn, stop teasing me at my grandmother’s funeral.’ She couldn’t help smiling.
‘Sorry, I thought you might have been a bit upset by the drama.’
‘Childish and mean-spirited though it is, as you can see I enjoyed it,’ she said dryly. ‘But then again I’m only human. It was great to see them at each other’s throats. When you’ve been the one who’s been dumped for someone else, you never want the dumper to be happy with that someone else. It’s a woman thing,’ she explained with heartfelt honesty.
‘God preserve me from “the woman thing”! I don’t understand you creatures at all.’
‘Oh, I think you understand us more than you let on,’ Heather said astutely. ‘Will I make a date with you for the psychic?’
‘You will in your hat, Heather Williams. You’re the one who’s teasing me now. I’d better get this mother of mine home. I’m sorry about your grandmother, but I’m glad that you gained some satisfaction at least, on the broken heart front.’ Oliver smiled down at her.
‘I’m glad you gained some amusement from it all. It was better than a TV soap,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘Don’t forget that couple from Dublin want to have one last look on Friday, before putting in a final offer. Told you we’d get a better offer than the asking price.’
‘Yes, little Miss-Know-All. I haven’t forgotten. And I’ll be on my best behaviour, not a beer can or brandy bottle in sight.’
‘Friday should see the end of it. I’ll bring you for a drink to celebrate,’ Heather declared. ‘I suppose I should go and thank people for coming.’
‘You should, you’re being very remiss,’ Oliver said gravely. ‘I’ll look forward to the drink. See you.’
‘See you, Oliver.’ She smiled as he strode off, noting that he had gone to the trouble to put on a smart grey suit and tie out of respect for the dead. It looked good on him too, she thought admiringly, before turning to go and comfort her grandmother’s best friend who was standing quietly crying at the church door.
It so happened that by chance both she and Lorna arrived at the church together the following morning.
‘Let’s hope you can remember this is a funeral and not a two-bit soap opera,’ Heather drawled sarcastically, feeling immensely superior to her cousin for once in her life. After yesterday’s episode, Lorna had lost all credibility.
‘You can have Neil Brennan back, I’m finished with him,’ Lorna retaliated contemptuously.
‘Thanks, Lorna. I don’t want your leavings. Being with Neil showed me exactly what I don’t need in a man. In fact, I don’t need a man at all.’ Heather smiled sweetly.
‘It didn’t look like that when you were giggling like a schoolgirl with Oliver Flynn,’ Lorna retorted, eyes flashing with temper.
‘You know, Lorna, there’s something you don’t realize, and I feel sorry for you because of it. Men and women can actually be friends. It’s not always a drama. Oliver and I have become good mates, really good mates. We do after all have something in common. Both of us have endured a parting of the ways, which wasn’t of our choosing. But we’re doing fine. We talk about anything and everything. And you know something? I value his friendship. And you know something else? There is no man or even woman in your life that you can truly say that you’re a friend to, and I feel sorry for you for that. Grow up and get a life, Lorna, or you’ll end up a sad, sorry, lonely old woman.’
Heather swept into the church on an absolute high. Never again would she feel inferior to her cousin. It was one of the best moments of her life and she couldn’t wait to tell Oliver. She’d meant it when she’d told Lorna that she really liked him. It was always a pleasure to see him. She hadn’t fibbed when she’d said that she could talk to Oliver about anything. It was true. And he clearly felt just as relaxed with her, which was nice. Her jaw dropped.
Good God! The man on the periphery.
Oliver Flynn.
It couldn’t be. Or could it?
Why not? He was one of the nicest men she’d ever met. They got on like a house on fire. He was dead easy to talk to. He seemed to like her. Anne Jensen had said there’d be a great friendship first before the relationship turned intimate. And then she remembered. He couldn’t father children.
If she fell in love with Oliver and he with her they’d be childless. Would she mind?
Calm down, she ordered as she walked slowly up the aisle. Was she being totally ridiculous and over-imaginative thinking that any man that came into her sphere could be the one? Was she just looking for someone on the rebound? Feeling more confused than she’d ever been in her life, she touched the gleaming wood on her grandmother’s coffin as she slipped into her seat.
‘My God, Gran,’ she whispered. ‘Is it Oliver?’
A shaft of sunlight burst through the stained-glass window, illuminating the alt
ar and the coffin, the choir began to sing ‘I Will Raise You Up on Eagle’s Wings’ and the soughing of the wind through the conifers outside seemed to whisper: ‘Yeessss.’
47
Noreen woke from her sleep with a start. It was almost dawn. A strange unfamiliar sensation enveloped her and then as clear as anything she felt the little fluttery movements in her tummy. Joy leapt in her as her hand slid down to the smooth curve of her lightly rippling belly. Her children were kicking in her womb. How magical.
How good that sounded. Her children.
‘Hello, my darlings,’ she murmured. ‘How are you today? I wish it was time for you to come out so I could see you. Are you two little girls or two little boys or a girl and a boy? I’m doing up a lovely nursery for you. Uncle Oliver told me that the house is being sold today so I’m bringing over some of the furniture I had at home and our new home will be very comfortable.’
She lay serenely against her pillows. Oliver had phoned to say that the house was almost sold and she should make a list of what she wanted from it so that he could ship it over to her. He sounded much more like his old self, brisk, businesslike, organized. That was good, she thought gratefully. The quiet, subdued, depressed Oliver was so unlike his true nature. God, please send a good and loving woman into Oliver’s life, she prayed. She didn’t like to think of him being alone. She had Kay and Rajiv and she’d have her twins to devote herself to. Oliver was the only thing she had left to feel guilty about. If Oliver was sorted, everything would be fine.
* * *
Neil Brennan lay tossing and turning in bed. He hated Lorna Morgan. She’d ruined his life, the she-witch. The whole of Kilronan would be laughing at him. Heather and Oliver Flynn had been sniggering at him when Heather’s mother had ordered him out of the church grounds. His accountant had had a Mickey fit when he’d studied the New York Visa bill. Neil was seriously up to his ears in debt. He was going to have to knuckle down and get the show on the road again. But somehow he didn’t feel like getting up for work and getting out there and competing. He’d lost his edge. All he could think about was that sly, freeloading cow and how she’d ripped him off.
Well, he would get off his ass and get out to work, he decided grimly. He was going to become so fucking rich, she’d cry every time she heard his name mentioned. Because she could have had it all and she’d blown her chance. He’d show her. By God, he’d show Lorna Morgan just what she’d turned her back on, Neil vowed.
But as soon as he got to the office he was going to make one very important phone call. One person could get him back on track workwise. That would be the start of it.
* * *
Lorna didn’t know what she felt as flight EI 105 took off from Dublin and headed west towards Shannon. Her mother had brought her to the airport and hugged her tightly. The only good thing to come out of all this was that she’d grown a lot closer to Jane, she thought despondently as she unbuckled her seatbelt. Her father was hardly talking to her, so disgusted was he at her taking Neil away from Heather, and Heather … Lorna cringed. Her cousin really despised her and pitied her. That was skanky. How dare she talk to her the way she had at the funeral? She did have friends, she assured herself. Carina was a friend. Suzie, her housemate in Yonkers, was a friend. Weren’t they? Lorna’s heart sank to rock-bottom. Heather was right. She had no one. Carina and Suzie weren’t bosom pals that you could share anything with, the way she’d shared with Heather.
Oliver and Heather had looked so … so comfortable together. There was no one now that she was comfortable with. No one she could truly be herself with. No one who knew what was behind the façade. Once she got back to New York the mask would have to go on again, and this time it all seemed like a bit of an effort. Would she have the energy to sustain it? she wondered dully, accepting a small bottle of red wine from the air hostess. Imagine arriving in New York with no one to meet her and then having to move by herself. Carina and Suzie would probably be off hill-walking in the Catskills if they weren’t working. They had a great social life with lots of friends. Lorna’s policy of not mixing with the Irish, while she was on the hunt for Mr Upper East Side, had ensured that she had no male friends to lug black sacks of possessions from Yonkers to the East Village. She’d probably have to do it all by herself.
Feeling lonelier than she’d ever felt in her life, Lorna sipped her red wine and wondered how she could have got it all so terribly wrong.
* * *
Heather took extra pains to look her best for the final viewing at Oliver’s today. She applied a light frosting of pink lipstick and then sprayed herself lightly with White Linen. She felt a little nervous. After her realization at her grandmother’s funeral the previous day that Oliver could be the one, she’d lain awake imagining scenarios of how they would fall into each other’s arms and confess their love to each other. It felt very right, somehow. These past few weeks getting to know him had lifted her out of her depression. But then she’d wonder if Oliver viewed her in the same light as she was starting to view him. He’d never flirted with her or made any attempt to go beyond the teasing, friendly, easygoing relationship that had developed between them. Maybe he just didn’t fancy her either, she fretted. His wife had been very slim and tall, not on the short, curvy side like Heather. Up and down her emotions seesawed as she pondered the unknowable.
And just say she was the one, what about the children thing? She was young enough now, but might she feel desperately unfulfilled in her mid-thirties when she hadn’t become a mother? It wasn’t that she was particularly maternal, she decided. She didn’t have much to do with children and what you didn’t have you didn’t miss. At least she could make a decision based on knowledge. Noreen hadn’t had that option, the poor thing.
Was she mad or what? Oliver probably never gave her a thought when she wasn’t with him.
Heather stared at her reflection in the mirror, noting how her new shorter layered look highlighted the copper glints in her chestnut hair and made her hazel eyes seem wider. She’d lost a few pounds too, she noted, pleased with the reappearance of cheekbones, on to which she brushed some blusher to add emphasis. She wanted him to fancy her. Somehow it seemed terribly important now.
‘That hairstyle really suits you,’ Lia complimented when she walked back into the office to get her briefcase.
‘Thanks, Lia. I’d had the bob for yonks. It’s nice to try something different.’ Heather smiled at her colleague. Lia was always chatty and good-humoured. The atmosphere in the office was so different from that awful place she’d worked in in Dublin. She looked forward to coming to work every morning. The phone rang. Lia answered it.
‘It’s for you. I just want to pop into the chemist for a packet of Feminax, I’m in bits,’ she grimaced.
‘Fine,’ Heather said as she picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’
‘Heather, hi,’ a familiar voice said. Heather’s eyes widened in recognition.
‘Neil, can I help you?’ she said coolly.
‘Well, I hope so, Heather. I’ve a proposition to put to you. Whatever you’re getting in Carleton’s I’ll pay you fifty Euro a week more if you’ll come back and run the office for me. All business and above board – you probably wouldn’t want to get back with me again,’ he said in a ‘poor me’ sort of voice.
‘You can say that again, Neil. You’re the last person I’d want to get back with if I was to be on my own until the day I die—’
‘OK, OK, I appreciate that, but I’m offering you a good job. I’ll throw in a car as well.’ He sounded desperate.
‘No thanks. Not interested. ’Bye,’ Heather said crisply and hung up. What an idiot, she thought, smiling. He hadn’t got a clue. But his phone call made her feel good all the same. It gave her a nice, satisfying sense of closure, just like she’d had with Lorna yesterday.
Lia arrived back, munching on a bar of chocolate. ‘PMT,’ she explained, offering Heather a couple of squares.
‘No thanks. I’m on a diet,’ Heather said cheeril
y. Things were really going good so far today – it was unusual for her not to be tempted to eat chocolate. ‘I’m off to Oliver Flynn’s for that last viewing, see you later for the Fennelly auction.’ Taking a deep breath, Heather set off with a tingle of anticipation, which was completely dashed when she arrived at Oliver’s to find that he wasn’t there. She let herself in feeling utterly disappointed. There was no need for him to be at the viewing, but from the way he’d been talking at the funeral she’d felt he was going to be there.
‘See! He doesn’t fancy you!’ she muttered as she plumped up the cushions on the sofa and tweaked the curtains to hang perfectly from their tiebacks.
* * *
Oliver stood in a florist’s in Navan while the assistant put the finishing touches to the bouquet he’d just purchased. He’d gone to Navan because if he’d bought flowers in Butler’s in Kilronan, the whole town would have known about it. He felt nervous. He’d never done such an impulsive thing before where women were concerned but he wanted to thank Heather for all the effort she’d put into selling the house and also because she’d been so completely understanding about the time he’d gone on the batter. He smiled thinking of her. Heather was great fun, he thought warmly. He liked talking to her, she had an unusual slant on life that was refreshing. He’d been really impressed by how honest she’d been with him the day Neil Brennan and Lorna Morgan had had their bust-up outside the church. She’d openly admitted that she’d enjoyed it and was glad they were going their separate ways. She’d been honest enough to admit also that it might have been her pride more than her heart that was affected. If he was honest with himself there was a touch of that in how he felt about what had happened between him and Noreen. It was only when he’d heard Heather admitting the truth to herself that he’d allowed himself to think about his own situation.
His pride had been hurt. And his ego and his vision of himself as a fit, healthy, virile male. That had been dented badly but it wasn’t fair to blame it on Noreen. Her insistence on trying for a baby hadn’t helped but that was all water under the bridge now and there was no point in revisiting it. Since the day he’d been on the batter and blurted it all out to Heather he hadn’t felt so badly about himself. She’d been very understanding and sensitive, and surprisingly, he wasn’t at all embarrassed with her. That in itself was a miracle for him. He was looking forward to their drink tonight. It was nice to have female companionship, apart from his mother’s. What would she think of Heather? Oliver had a feeling Cora might like her.
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