'Oh, come on, Mum, give me a break. She has a fabulous house in Dublin, a farm in Cork, a wonderful career and — if she got her act together — she'd be published in Ireland and the UK too. Have you any idea how long she's dreamed of that? And now,' she threw up her hands, 'now she's just throwing it all away.'
Maureen set down the iron and looked at her daughter. 'You sound a little bit jealous.'
'I'm not.' Sylvie threw herself down on the small sofa and stared sullenly at the TV.
'She may have money, love, but she's approaching middle age and she's just lost the love of her life. Money is no fun if you've no one to share it with. And,' she shook a finger at her daughter, 'you just remember that your health is your wealth.'
'Yeah, I'm sorry, Mum.'
'I know, love.' Maureen turned to the kettle and made a pot of tea. 'Take your dad in a cuppa and have a chat; that will cheer you up.'
Sylvie smiled. 'Okay. Where's Billy?'
'Down on the green playing football.'
'Shouldn't he be studying?'
It was her mother's turn to roll her eyes. 'He's been at it all afternoon; I threw him out in the end.'
'He has to study hard, Mum. It's important that he does well in his exams or he won't get a good job.'
Maureen poured the tea, shaking her head sadly. 'You have got to stop worrying about money, love; we'll manage.'
'Will we? If Dana doesn't start writing again soon, I could be out of a job. How on earth will we be able to afford to pay the mortgage, the insurance and all the other bills and be ready for the next brick wall that's around the corner?'
Maureen handed her two mugs. 'We'll cope.'
Sylvie took the mugs and crossed the hall to their living room that now served as her father's bedroom. He had been only forty-two when he was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and though it had progressed slowly in the first ten years, the last ten had been a lot harder. As it became more difficult for him to walk, William was forced to retire and when the stairs became too challenging, Maureen had moved their bed downstairs.
'Hey, Dad.'
William Parker opened his eyes and smiled. 'Hello, love, have you had a good day?'
'Not bad.' Sylvie set down the mugs on the bedside table and bent to hug him. 'How are you feeling?'
'Grand, grand.'
'You always say that,' Sylvie complained, taking her mug and curling up at the end of the bed.
He chuckled. 'Do I?'
'Is the new medication working any better?' she persisted.
'Aye, I think so. My stomach doesn't feel as sick as it did on those other yokes.'
'Good. Did Amy come today?' Amy was the physio-therapist who came in once a week to help her father exercise his swollen limbs.
'She did and, Lord, that girl's a slave-driver.'
'You're mad about her.'
He smiled. 'She's a good kid.'
'And your knees?' Sylvie asked. Her father's knee joints had proved to be the most swollen and painful of all in the last couple of months and the GP was talking about joint replacements.
'Forget about my bloody knees and tell me about your day,' he said impatiently.
'Not much to tell,' she said, ignoring the flash of temper. He was a saint, really, putting up with all this pain and she knew that the confines of these four walls got him down a lot. He had been a very active man in his youth but now it was an achievement for him to make it as far as the car for his hospital visits. 'Dana's still spending most of the day in her room,' she told him. 'And I'm still getting my ear blasted off because she won't take any calls. Apart from opening the post and answering emails, I just file my nails or play solitaire all day.'
'What was the man thinking of?' William shook his head in wonder. 'She's such a pretty little thing.'
Sylvie laughed. 'Don't let Mum hear you talk like that or she'll kick you in your bad ankle.'
He glanced down at his wasted body. 'It's not as though I could ever get up to anything, is it?'
'Dana wouldn't look twice at you anyway,' Sylvie said, swallowing back tears. 'She's into the tall, fair and handsome type.'
William put a hand up to touch his bald head. 'Oh, well, two out of three ...'
Sylvie finished her tea and stood up. 'I'd better go and change.'
'Going out tonight, then?'
She shook her head, laughing. 'No, I need to clean the car, inside and out. Mind you, it's probably the dirt that's holding it together.'
His face darkened. 'I know it's an awful heap. I wish we could afford to replace it.'
'It's not so bad,' Sylvie said cheerfully. 'It gets us around.'
He stretched out a swollen hand to her. 'You're a good girl, Sylvie.'
She dropped a quick kiss on his thickened knuckles. 'Call if you need anything.'
Chapter Five
'I'm not going this year,' Gus announced when Tom reminded him that the charity fashion show they were sponsoring was on in the Shelbourne the following weekend.
'You don't have a choice,' Tom retorted. They were having Sunday lunch in Tom and Ashling's kitchen and Tom swallowed his irritation with a mouthful of roast chicken, washing it down with some chilled Chardonnay.
'I went to the Architects' Dinner,' Gus reminded him. 'It's your turn.'
'That's not fair, you know I only missed it because Ashling wasn't well.'
'Yeah, sorry.' Gus shot Ashling an apologetic smile.
'I know you're not really in the mood for socializing,' Ashling said gently and pushed the dish of garlic and cream potatoes towards him, 'but it is for a good cause and you don't have to stay for the whole evening.'
Tom opened his mouth to protest but shut it again when his wife shot him a look.
Gus capitulated. 'Okay, then, if you think it's important.'
Tom reached over to take back the dish of potatoes. 'People are paying five hundred euros a plate, Gus. I think the least we can do is show up.'
'I just hate the fact that there are going to be reporters there,' Gus admitted. 'Now that Dana's made it public that we've separated, they're bound to want to talk to me.'
'I'll stay by your side all night and kick them in the shins if they get too close,' Ashling promised.
'And what about me?' her husband protested.
'You can go off and chat up the clients.'
Tom reached over to kiss his wife and pat her bump. 'Don't you worry about him. You just look after our son and heir.'
'Or daughter,' she pointed out.
'I don't care which,' Tom said happily.
'Ah, now, if you two are going to get all sloppy, I'm off,' Gus warned.
'I will not apologize for being a happy family man just because you've decided to become a bachelor again,' Tom told him.
'Leave it, Tom. You know Gus doesn't want to talk about it.'
Tom topped up his glass and, after a nudge from Ashling, topped up Gus's too. 'Yeah, sure, I mean why would he want to tell his best friend what the hell he's playing at?'
'Let's just finish lunch and decide what movie we're going to see,' Ashling suggested.
Gus wiped his mouth on a napkin and stood up. 'You know, I don't think I'll join you after all. I've a lot of paperwork to catch up on.'
'Oh, Gus, please don't go. I hate it when you two fight.'
Gus came around the table to kiss Ashling. 'We don't fight, do we, Tom?'
'Course not.'
'Thanks for a wonderful lunch, Ashling. Take care of yourself and Buster.'
'You can't keep calling it Buster; it could be a girl!' she protested, laughing.
Gus winked back. 'It could be twins.'
She shuddered. 'Please. I still haven't got my head around delivering one, never mind two.'
Tom stood up and led the way out to the hall. 'I'll walk you out.'
They ambled out towards the low-slung sports car.
'Are you sure everything's okay?' he asked.
'Fine.'
Tom turned to face him. 'I wish you'd trust
me a bit more. How many years have we known each other? Ten?'
'Twelve,' Gus told him.
'Yeah, and you're like a brother to me.' Tom shifted from one foot to the other. 'We'd like you to be god-father.'
Gus stared at him. 'Really?'
Tom nodded. 'Of course, who else would we ask?'
'I'm honoured, really I am.' Gus patted his friend's shoulder awkwardly. 'Don't worry about me, mate. I promise that if I need to talk, you'll be the first one I call.' He grinned. 'Well, you or your wife.'
Tom pushed him towards the car and turned to go back inside. 'See you tomorrow.'
Gus felt fed up as he drove back to his new home. He'd always loved his time with Tom and Ashling but now it was proving hard to be with them. Their happiness was painful to witness and made him ache for Dana.
He turned into the car park of the small, city centre hotel that was currently his home. Though he had a large suite with every facility he could ask for, he was already tired of living in such impersonal surroundings. He needed to find somewhere more permanent but it seemed such a huge step and he baulked at taking it. He knew that his life with Dana was over; that though he loved her as much as ever, he could never trust her again. But he couldn't move on, he realized, until he talked to her brother. Though Walter had been able to tell him where Ed was, Gus hadn't managed to talk to him yet. It seemed Ed was a photographer who travelled a lot and would be out of the country for several weeks.
In the privacy of his suite, Gus threw his jacket over the back of a chair and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window that gave him a panoramic view of Dublin. He stared out at the vibrant city, its streets awash with people in summer clothes and sunglasses enjoying a relaxed Sunday afternoon. The Liffey sparkled in the distance but the beautiful view somehow served only to make him feel even more isolated.
He had lived alone for nine years — well, most of the time — before meeting Dana and he'd liked it that way. But within two months of meeting her, he'd moved into her house in Rathgar and the following year they'd bought their first home together in Ranelagh.
Dana had loved the house the minute she'd set eyes on it whereas Gus approved of it in a more objective way. With his professional hat on, he knew it was a good investment and, more important, in an excellent location. It was a lovely old house that had been built in the late nineteenth century. The previous owners had restored all its original features with taste and sensitivity, and yet he couldn't quite manage to fall in love with it. It was too big and too grand to feel like a family home, but their farmhouse in west Cork was a different matter altogether.
A city boy through and through, Gus had nevertheless been completely blown away by the wild beauty of Cork. As the taxi drove him from the airport out to Bantry, he had become more bewitched with every passing mile. Given it was a miserable winter's day, that said a lot. When the driver had finally turned into the lane and he caught his first glimpse of the plain stone building with the shinning view of Bantry Bay in the background, Gus decided to beg Dana De Lacey to sell him the property. Before he even put pencil to paper, ideas were crowding his head of how it could be restored and embellished to maximize the views and create an idyll that would inspire creativity. It quickly became a labour of love when he fell for the owner as hard as he had for her house.
It still stunned Gus when he thought about how quickly they'd clicked. They could discuss politics, have a laugh and talk avidly about every issue under the sun. At the same time, there was an unmistakable frisson between them; their attraction to each other was almost palpable. Gus had just turned thirty-four when they met and had been in enough relationships to realize that this was the real thing. He had proposed within weeks, seeing no point in wasting time, and, happily, Dana had agreed.
Gus had hoped that they would spend most of their time in Bantry; it was the perfect place for Dana to write and he could easily commute to work in Dublin a couple of days a week. But Dana had other ideas. She loved the farmhouse, he didn't doubt that, but there was something about the solitude that seemed to unnerve her. After a couple of days there she would start to get restless and edgy and finally find some excuse to return to Dublin. He had accepted this without giving it much thought, but lately it had occurred to him that perhaps it was being alone with him that was the problem.
In hindsight, though, he wondered if the rural location just reminded her too much of home and her unhappy childhood. He didn't know much about Dana's family and she'd never told him the reason they were estranged. He had broached the subject several times in the early days but Dana made it clear that she found it too painful to talk about. He was aware that she'd visited a psychiatrist and had taken antidepressants for a time so he left it at that. Rightly or wrongly he'd allowed her to pull a veil over her previous life in Wexford, and he put his efforts into making her life with him as happy as was humanly possible.
He'd thought he'd succeeded but he'd been fooling himself, or, rather, she'd made a fool of him. When they made love, Gus was sure that she cared as much about him as he did about her. He felt her give herself totally to him in those intimate moments and he would forget everyone and everything when she was in his arms. It had been that way right up until the end. He remembered vividly the last night he'd held her in his arms. It had been the day he'd found the letters; the day when everything had changed.
They had gone to a party later and he had watched her move easily through the room, like a beautiful butterfly flitting from flower to flower. There had been little opportunity for them to talk and he'd been glad of that. He'd had so much information to process, his head was reeling. He'd watched her all night, wondering how he could have lived with her all these years and not really known her.
When they got home late that night, she had turned to him in bed and he had taken her quickly, almost violently. At first she'd been surprised by his roughness, then she responded with passion. How could she possibly fake this? But how could she possibly love him and be so duplicitous at the same time?
As they'd lain together he'd held her body close to his and wished he'd never seen the bloody letters.
He'd been in the garage hunting for the old jacket he wore when he washed the cars, and had come across a large box; it must have been sitting there since they'd moved in. It was probably just old manuscripts — Dana, superstitiously, liked to keep hard copies. He was about to dump it in the bin but then realized he should check it first, in case there were any personal papers that needed shredding.
When he tore the box open it was to find that it was full of press cuttings and old publicity shots of Dana, with a variety of hairstyles dating back to long before he'd met her. Chuckling, he flicked through them, wondering which would be the best one to produce at a dinner party to embarrass her. As he reached the bottom of the box, his fingers closed around a thick envelope. Pulling it out he frowned when he saw that it was sealed. Hesitating for only a moment — it wasn't addressed to anyone and was probably just more photos — he opened it and pulled out several smaller envelopes. None of them were addressed and they were all sealed. He stared at them, wondering what he had stumbled on. These hadn't got here by accident. They had been deliberately hidden and they must have been hidden by his wife.
He tried to push away the feeling of unease that was gripping him; there was sure to be an innocent explanation. Perhaps they were love letters from an old boyfriend. If they were, Dana obviously hadn't been interested in this rather old-fashioned suitor or she would have opened them. Of course they didn't necessarily have to be from her past. Dana was a very attractive woman and Gus had seen plenty of men eyeing her up. But just because someone fancied her, didn't mean she returned the feelings; it didn't mean she was guilty of anything.
Curiosity mixed with jealousy got the better of him and he opened one of the envelopes, taking care to ease up the flap without tearing it. There were two sheets of heavy, cream paper inside and he slid them out, hesitating before unfolding them. It would be an invasio
n of privacy to read the contents but there was no way he could stop himself now. He smoothed out the pages and read quickly. The first thing that surprised him was the date; the second, the signature. 'What the hell...'
'Do you think they'll get back together?' Ashling asked sleepily. She was stretched out on their bed beside Tom, who was going over some papers for the next day.
'What?' he asked absently.
'Gus and Dana, do you think they'll get back together?'
'Probably.'
She propped herself up on one arm so she could look at him properly. 'Why?'
He took off his reading glasses and shrugged. 'He's obviously miserable without her.'
'But then why did he leave?'
'God knows.'
'She must have done something really bad to make him walk out like that. Either that or he's found out something about her; something she's kept secret from him.'
Tom grinned at his wife's intentness. 'If you say so, Miss Marple.'
'I'm right, you just wait and see,' she told him, wriggling down in the bed and snuggling up against him. 'Gus isn't the sort of man to leave without a reason.'
'There could be someone else,' Tom mused.
'You know there isn't,' Ashling protested. 'Gus might have been a bit of a playboy in the past, but he's never so much as looked at another woman since he met Dana.'
'And you know this how?' he teased.
She pulled a face. 'I just know.'
'Of course you do.'
'You know I'm right.'
'Yes,' he agreed. 'I would be surprised if he'd found someone else. For a start, I don't think he'd be underhand about it. But why is he being so secretive?'
Ashling shrugged. 'Chivalry? Pride? Embarrassment? Who knows?'
'Not me, that's for sure.'
'He'll tell you when he's good and ready, Tom, and I bet it will make sense to you when he does.'
'What do you mean?'
She shook her head. 'I'm not sure. I just feel there's something not quite right about Dana. Even after six years I don't really feel that I know her that well.'
Between The Sheets Page 5