As the tantalizing smell of food wafted from the kitchen she stifled her hunger pangs, knowing she didn’t want to spoil her appetite by snacking and tasting too much of the meal she was preparing. There were salmon fishcakes, Shane’s favourites, which she had shaped with the cooked fish and egg and breadcrumbs and seasoning, all ready to heat and serve on a small bed of tossed leaves. To follow there was fillet of pork done in calvados with apple rings and a baked mixture of sweet potato and carrots. For dessert she had made a coffee cake. It had turned out perfectly and sat temptingly on her big blue ceramic plate. The room was bathed in low candlelight, Sinatra was playing in the background, an expensive Merlot was already open and a Chablis was chilling in the fridge. They say the way to a man’s heart is a good home-cooked meal – well tonight she hoped that it was true as she really wanted to impress Shane. She enjoyed entertaining, having friends around for supper and drinks, but this meal was strictly dinner à deux.
Yesterday had been Shane’s thirty-fifth birthday and she’d been annoyed when he told her that he was going for a business dinner with a client and the invitation had not been extended to include her.
‘We can celebrate it another time,’ he’d told her as if it wasn’t that important. Well, they would just have to have a private birthday party, she’d decided, and had cooked his favourite meal, splurged out on some good wine and had left the office early to ensure she had plenty of time for preparation. She’d been delighted when he had jumped at her offer of an intimate dinner for two instead of eating out. The fact he was happy to stay in for a romantic evening was certainly a step in the right direction.
She’d known Shane for years. He’d been ahead of her in college, the golden boy, an architect who could do no wrong. On qualification she had done a three-year stint in Hunt Brown, specializing in reclaiming derelict buildings in some of the city’s run-down areas, turning old mills, factories and churches into bright innovative living spaces. Approached by Thornton’s, one of the city’s biggest and brightest architectural practices, she had accepted a job offer from Derek Thornton to come and join the firm. Her path once more crossed with Shane O’Sullivan as they now worked for the same firm. Shane was living with a stunning-looking girl called Ruth Liddy, who was a journalist for the Irish Times, while Grace was happily dating an eager young barrister called Fintan Dywer.
Shane was always professional, polite and charming and when they had been paired two years later to work on a new hotel project in Barcelona for one of their big Irish clients, she was delighted. However, a few weeks into the job, after a pretty drunken night in the historic Els Quatre Gats restaurant, as they held hands and walked through Barcelona’s Barri Gòtic in search of a taxi-cab, Shane had admitted that Ruth and he had broken up a few months earlier and that Ruth had taken off travelling around South America. Grace had read a few of her pieces in the Irish Times entitled ‘Footloose and Fancy Free’, envying Ruth’s ability to just pack up and go travelling and exploring on her own.
‘So much for being a happy couple,’ he said drunkenly. ‘Ruth and I just wanted different things!’
Grace had consoled him and told him that her relationship with Fintan had also bitten the dirt a few months previously and that he was now dating a sexy young junior counsel called Hilary.
‘That Fintan must be a stupid bastard!’ he said, ordering two more drinks back in the hotel bar. By three a.m., helping his six-foot frame into the lift and upstairs into the bed in his room, Grace had found herself utterly besotted.
The next day he had greeted her at breakfast with a red rose and an apology but once his hand had touched hers there was no going back. They had cancelled all meetings for the rest of the day and crept away to her very large double bed with its view of the marina. They revelled in each other’s bodies, both equally surprised by the depths of the passion they were experiencing. In the city of Gaudí they explored the Güell Park and Montjuïc, arguing and laughing constantly over buildings and art, Shane buying her a crazy painted stone lizard to remind her of their time together.
Returning to Dublin, they had begun a relationship, enjoying romantic dinners which always ended up back at her place – her stone lizard Dalí gazing at her from the balcony as they made love. Grace was happier than she had ever been before and thought how lucky they were to have found each other at a good time in their lives. OK, so they weren’t heady teenagers cracked out about each other but she did love him and want him to be a part of her life. Shane was charming and handsome and intelligent: everything she could want in a partner. When he told her that he didn’t want to rush into marriage she had nodded understandingly, saying there was no hurry. She was prepared to wait. The very odd time she was free to babysit her little niece Evie she reassured herself that one day marriage and motherhood would happen. There was nothing to say that she couldn’t have it all: career, love, children – a perfect life, balanced and beautiful
She was fixing her hair when the phone went; it was Shane telling her he had been a bit delayed.
‘Everything’s ready,’ she pleaded. ‘Don’t be long.’
‘Grace, I’ll be there when I can.’
She’d waited, and waited, opening the chilled Chablis and nibbling a packet of almond nuts. The food would be ruined at this rate. All she could do was turn the oven down low and curl up on the couch to wait for him.
When he eventually arrived he had kissed her absentmindedly. Grace fussed around as she made him sit and begin to eat. He scarcely mentioned the fishcakes and avoided her eyes as he ate the pork.
‘Happy birthday, darling,’ she toasted him after topping up his glass with a little more wine.
‘Hey, go easy, I can’t stay, I have an early morning meeting.’
She couldn’t believe it. Surely he could relax for one night? But she was determined not to start an argument and instead busied herself with plates and dishes as she made coffee and carried his cake to the table.
It was her mother’s recipe and delicious. Irresistible, even. Shane just pushed it around his plate. He looked flushed, ill at ease; perhaps he was coming down with something?
She had his birthday present wrapped ready and was just about to give it to him when he started speaking.
‘Grace, we need to talk.’
Her heart skipped a beat. She stared at him. He seemed serious.
‘It’s been great the two of us – we’re a perfect pair, we both like the same things, think the same way, value beautiful things. We’ve been good for each other, made each other happy . . .’
Grace held her breath waiting for more, for him to say how much he loved and needed her and wanted her to be a permanent part of her life.
‘It’s been fun. You’re a great girl. Listen, this is so awkward, I don’t know what to say . . .’
The conversation was certainly not going the way she expected. She had never seen him so tense and uncomfortable before.
‘The thing is, Grace, and there’s no getting around it . . . it’s . . . Ruth and I are back together and want to give our relationship another go.’
‘Back together?’ she gasped, disbelieving. ‘I thought Ruth was away!’
‘She was, but she’s home again. We bumped into each other in town after she came back from Honduras.’
‘So you’ve been seeing her?’ she asked, her heart heavy with the news. The missed dates and weird work schedule suddenly made perfect sense.
‘Believe me, Grace, I never meant it to happen, but just seeing her and talking to her again made me realize that there was still something between us.’
‘But it did happen,’ she said, concentrating on the table and candles and flowers, the whole bloody lot of it, trying to escape his eyes.
‘Ruth and I are getting back together,’ he said firmly, his expression serious, his blue eyes unwavering.
‘Shane, you told me that you and Ruth were totally finished, that it was over. I would never have got involved with you otherwise.’
‘I
know,’ he said. ‘I didn’t expect to ever see her again, let alone make up with her. I’m sorry, Grace.’
Grace felt sick to her stomach, overwhelmed.
‘I never meant to hurt you,’ he said, touching her shoulder with his long fingers, ‘but Ruth . . .’
‘I don’t want to hear one more bloody word about Ruth!’ she exploded. ‘Now get out of my apartment. You’re seeing somebody else which means we’ve absolutely nothing more to say to each other!’
‘I never meant it to end like this,’ he said contritely as he lifted his jacket off the chair and grabbed his keys.
Turning her back on him she tried to stay in control as she gazed at the lights of the city and the dark swirl of water and sky below and above her. She was suspended in a weird sense of disbelief and frozen time as Shane left.
‘You bastard,’ she screamed ineffectually after him as the front door clicked shut.
She’d just been dumped. She wasn’t good enough to measure up to her boyfriend’s ex. Gutted, she kicked off her shoes and flung herself on to the cream leather couch and began to sob. Her life was a mess. Spotting the platinum designer cufflinks that she’d had specially designed for him she flung the expensive box across the room as she reached for the white wine, topping up her glass. What was she going to do? She couldn’t imagine her life without him. How could she face Thornton’s, see him in the office, work on projects with him? Perhaps everyone already knew he was back with Ruth. What an absolute fool she’d been. She tipped some more of the chilled wine into her glass. He had probably gone straight to be with Ruth in his apartment in Blackrock. She could imagine them both laughing at her. She couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the humiliation and the utter loss of face. She should have listened to her mother. All along Maggie had tut-tutted about him not being right for her. Or to Sarah, who had felt she was foolish to get involved with someone she worked so closely with; even Anna, who had declared him a smooth bastard the minute she’d met him. She wanted to curl up in a blanket and die. Never go out again, never admit what an absolute eejit she had been to believe in him and trust him.
She opened another bottle of wine from the fridge before collapsing on the couch again, overwhelmed with a sense of panic. It was so shitty getting dumped! Shane and the life she’d thought they might have together had abruptly vanished. Like a mirage – just disappeared. She had to face the truth that Shane didn’t love her, probably never had.
Stumbling to her feet, she crossed the living room and went into the bedroom. There she grabbed the stupid lizard off the bedside table and carried him all the way back out to the balcony. He stared at her stony-faced with his big lizard eyes as she leant against the metal railings. Taking a breath she threw Dalí into the murky waters below. She remained on the balcony in the darkness, watching him disappear from sight.
A long while later she tried her sister Anna’s number but the phone was switched off. There was no point phoning Sarah at this late hour and waking up Evie; even in her drunken state she knew it wouldn’t be fair. Without thinking she found herself dialling the familiar number of home, the phone ringing for a few seconds.
‘Yes?’
It was her mother’s voice. She wondered how it was her mother always managed to sound so calm and reassuring at the end of the telephone line.
Chapter Fifteen
Maggie tossed and turned in the comfort of the king-sized bed which she had shared for more than twenty-seven years with Leo. She would never get used to sleeping alone, never. She still missed his bulk and warmth and warm breath and – even though it galled her to admit it – his awful snoring. She no longer had to prod him or poke him to beg him to stop but, oh, what she would have given to have Leo’s body lying beside hers again. His empty side of the bed was a constant reminder of his absence.
Now at the end of the day she sought refuge in late-night TV or the pile of books on her bedside table, losing herself in the latest Joanne Harris, Maeve Binchy or Anita Shreve. Pictures on the screen and words on the page helped to chase away the loneliness that sometimes threatened to engulf her. How can a woman surrounded by children, friends and neighbours be lonely? she asked herself. Yet she was. She’d taken the happiness and comfort of her marriage so casually for granted. She envied couples like Detta and Tom who were devoted to each other and despite their age were ready to face the future in England together, and her sister Kitty and her husband Harry who despite arguments and a few rollercoaster years were a totally united couple and were now busy organizing her niece Orla’s upcoming wedding. She just hated being on her own!
Since Leo’s death she had learned to fit a lightbulb and rewire a plug, reboot their computer when it locked up, refit the brake lights in her car and sort out a dead battery and get the engine to start. Small but necessary things! She still cried with frustration when she found that she couldn’t reach the top shelves where Leo had left things or was too scared to climb into her own attic to fetch the Christmas tree lights or a travel bag. During the day she kept going by keeping busy. Only alone at night did she give in to the fear and loneliness that at times plagued her. She often lay awake listening for the noises of mice, or burglars, or scary things she had never noticed when Leo lay beside her.
Tonight she was just starting to settle in to a nice relaxed state when she heard the phone ring. Who could be phoning her this late at night? God, something awful might have happened. Maybe Evie was sick and Sarah needed her! She reached for the phone immediately, trying to quell her anxiety.
‘Yes?’
‘Mum?’
‘Grace!’ It was so unlike her eldest daughter to phone at this hour and out of the blue. ‘Are you all right? What’s happened, pet?’
Her daughter sounded desperate, sniffing and holding her breath in, trying to control herself just like when she was a little girl.
‘Are you sick? Has there been an accident?’ Maggie demanded, frantic, her mother’s instinct kicking in.
‘Mum, Shane and I have broken up. It’s all over . . .’ Grace gasped, then broke down, barely able to speak or breathe.
‘Grace, is someone with you?’
‘No, I’m on my own in the apartment. I’ll always bloody well be on my own!’
‘Do you want me to come over?’ asked Maggie gently, already slipping out of bed.
‘I want to come home, get out of this bloody place,’ howled her daughter, totally losing control.
‘Can you drive?’ That was a stupid question, Maggie realized straight away, as Grace sounded as if she’d been drinking and was clearly overwrought. ‘Listen, love, I’m only just getting ready to go to bed, I’ll hop into the car and come and collect you. You just grab your things! I won’t be long.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ She sniffed. ‘I’ll be waiting for you.’
Maggie put down the phone then sat on the edge of the bed for a second, trying to collect her thoughts. It was one forty a.m. and Grace was drunk and in no fit state to be left on her own. Over the years Leo had usually been the one to answer distress calls from their offspring. He would lumber good-naturedly out of bed to collect them from a disco or late-night club or party. Now it fell to her. She ran into the en-suite bathroom and threw water on her face and then grabbed a pair of trousers and a navy fleece and pulled on a pair of socks and her driving shoes. Taking a second to pull a comb through her fair hair, she grabbed her handbag and left.
The old BMW engine burst smoothly into life as she drove down the road and headed into town. A shiny-eyed fox, out on a night’s prowl, slunk out of her way.
Dublin at night was busy as always with crowds of young people milling about in the streets as they left the city’s busy clubs and bars and restaurants. Taxis constantly relayed passengers across town and homewards. Maggie concentrated on the road, noticing the Garda checks on the way. She thanked God that Grace’s apartment was at least close by as she crossed over the Liffey and neared the IFSC. The tall glass building where her daughter lived was only a stone’s
throw from the river, right in the heart of the city. Maggie scanned the street and managed to find a nice big parking space. She checked the car alarm was on before she approached the entrance lobby of River Buildings. She keyed in the code and took the lift to the sixth floor.
Grace opened the apartment door in an old T-shirt and what could have been a tracksuit bottom or pyjamas. She looked awful, red-eyed and snotty-nosed; her usual calm demeanour and poised exterior had totally vanished. She passed her mother a stuffed airport holdall and a plastic bag.
‘Let’s get out of here!’ she pleaded.
Maggie pulled her close and took the bags as they walked to the car. She was tempted to ask about what had happened but since she still had to negotiate the dark late-night drive home she decided to keep the questions till they got to Pleasant Square.
‘You poor little pet,’ she consoled as Grace pulled tissues from the pack near the dashboard and sobbed like a five-year-old.
‘Mum, he’s such a shit! Such an unbelievable shit!’
Maggie murmured sympathetically but years of experience had taught her that agreeing that one of her daughter’s best friends, teachers, boyfriends or lovers was a shit would always come back to haunt her once the squabbling pair had solved their differences and made up. Any harsh word used against the other would suddenly be dragged out and remembered. So even though Shane had always appeared completely unsuitable for her precious daughter this was not the time for her to say ‘I told you so’.
‘He’s gone back with his old girlfriend!’
Maggie took a breath. That certainly was unexpected. A cold feeling of anger took hold in the pit of her stomach as she realized that Shane O’Sullivan had hurt her daughter deeply.
Grace leant her head against the car window, glassy-eyed, broken, as they neared the turn for Pleasant Square.
Maggie tried to conceal her dismay as she bustled around turning the key in the lock and making a big to-do of putting on the lights and the heating, treating Grace as if she was ill or an invalid who had just come home from hospital.
The Matchmaker Page 7