Between The Sheets

by Caddle, Colette

  After that, she'd get stuck into The Mile High Club. She hadn't done much this week — too busy feeling sorry for herself. But no more. It was time to get back to work. It was hard going, though. She'd had to rewrite the last three chapters; they were boring and flat, and Gretta would be horrified if she handed them in as they were.

  In that, her PA had been right. Dana sighed at the thought of Sylvie. She was starting to regret firing the girl. What she had done was probably down to normal curiosity, and Dana felt maybe she herself had overreacted. The note was also playing on her mind. She'd asked Ian about Sylvie's family but despite the fact that the two had obviously grown close, he knew nothing.

  Dana took her drink and went upstairs. She should climb straight into a shower and then go down and tackle the kitchen, but her eyes were heavy with sleep. She decided that a short nap was in order first. She wouldn't be able to write if she was exhausted. She crawled into bed and pulled the covers up around her ears. Just an hour would be enough. Forty winks and she'd be ready for anything.

  After ringing on the door for a good five minutes, a slightly worried Gus let himself into the house. 'Dana?' He stood in the hall, nervous of going any further. Dana would probably freak that he'd even had the audacity to use his key. He called her name again but there was still no reply. But it wasn't unusual for Dana to become deaf to the world when she was working. 'Dana?' he called again, heading towards the office. It was lunch time so she should be at her desk by now.

  He knocked tentatively and stuck his head in, but the room was empty. He sighed and went back into the hall. She must be up in bed but he was loath to go up. After being away for so long he felt like he would be invading her private territory. Instead he crossed to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, taken aback at the state of the room. Iris had always kept it immaculate but now the place was a mess and there was a row of bottles by the door. He sighed as he counted them; five wine, one gin and one brandy, and an empty plastic tonic bottle too. He hoped that meant that Walter or even her new boyfriend had been to visit, and that Dana hadn't drunk all this on her own. Going to the fridge he opened it and stared at the contents. Half a carton of milk that was past its best-by date, a rotting lemon, three bottles of wine and, stuffed in the bottom drawer, some cartons of soup and smoothies. That was something at least.

  'Seen enough?'

  He whirled around to see Dana standing at the door watching him. 'Dana!'

  'Who were you expecting?' she said drily, coming into the room.

  'I knocked for ages,' he protested. 'I came in because I was worried.'

  'And you thought you might find me in the fridge?'

  He smiled. 'Okay, you've got me there. Wally phoned me. He's worried about you. He says you're on your own.'

  'Iris walked out on me,' Dana retorted.

  'Why?' As he waited for her answer he took in her dishevelled appearance — she must have just got out of bed even though it was lunchtime. Her arms were clasped around her as she watched him. Her hair was lank, her eyes wary and her face pale. He felt like reaching out to hug her ...

  'It's not important,' she said.

  'Aren't you going to offer me a coffee?'

  Her eyes widened in disbelief. 'I don't think so!'

  'We have things to talk about, Dana,' he said gently. 'So much has happened and I think there have been a lot of misunderstandings—'

  'I've called you and I've left messages. You're the one who wouldn't talk, Gus. Let's be clear on that.'

  He nodded. 'You're right. I was wrong and I'm sorry. I did come over to talk to you that morning, but when that guy was here—'

  She levelled him with a scathing look. 'You're one to talk.'

  'What's that supposed to mean?' He wasn't ready to talk about Terry, not yet.

  'Stones, glasshouses ...' She shrugged. 'You get the drift.'

  'Fair enough. But I'm here now. Let me stay. Let's talk.'

  She sighed. 'Okay.'

  He smiled. 'Look, why don't you make some coffee and I'll load the dishwasher?' He took off his jacket and started to roll up his sleeves.

  'I don't need your help,' she muttered, although she had picked up the kettle.

  'I know that, but I may as well help as I'm here. You're obviously working flat out; how's it going?'

  She shot him a suspicious look. 'Why do you ask?'

  'It was just a simple question, Dana. There was no hidden agenda behind it.'

  'Sorry.'

  'I hear you fired Sylvie. What happened?'

  'What's it to you?'

  He paused in his work. 'There's no point in me staying if you're going to be like this.'

  'Sylvie invaded my privacy. She knew I was writing but suspected it wasn't on The Mile High Club. So she went nosing through my private documents, trying to find out what I was working on.'

  Gus paused again. 'I can see that she overstepped the mark, but isn't firing her a bit of an overreaction?'

  'Maybe,' she admitted. 'Did you know that Sylvie's father is disabled?'

  He nodded. 'He's suffered from rheumatoid arthritis for years. I think he may be bed-bound now.'

  'How do you know all of this?'

  He shrugged. 'No idea. She must have just mentioned it in passing.'

  'She never mentioned it to me.' Dana stared into space for a moment and then turned to pour the hot water into two mugs.

  'If you think you could forgive her,' he said gently, 'I'm sure she'd learn from her mistake. Whatever she did, Dana, she's always worshipped the ground you walk on.'

  'Yeah, sure.' Dana set the mugs on the table and he came to sit opposite her.

  'It's true. She also needs the money and the flexible hours suit her perfectly. When she's not here, she looks after her father.'

  'I didn't know any of this,' Dana murmured. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

  'It just never came up. I suppose I assumed that you knew. So, will you give her another chance?'

  She sighed. 'I'll think about it.'

  He watched her over his coffee mug. 'You must be lonely, rattling around this place all on your own.'

  'Who says I'm alone?' she taunted.

  He couldn't resist letting his eyes run from her tousled hair to her pink woolly socks. 'It's just a wild guess.'

  'Bastard,' she mumbled.

  Gus shook his head. 'I'm sorry, forgive me. I'm really not here for a slanging match.'

  She drew a packet of cigarettes from her pocket and took one out.

  'Do you have to?' he murmured trying to keep a rein on his irritation. Dana knew he hated cigarette smoke.

  'I really do.' Dana lit one, inhaled and then blew the smoke in his face. 'So, what do you want to talk about?'

  'I just wanted to know what's wrong.'

  'Er, my husband left me, didn't you know?'

  'This isn't all about me. Aren't you ready to admit that yet?'

  'I'm under a lot of pressure about the book,' she said, not meeting his gaze.

  'From Gretta?'

  She laughed mirthlessly. 'From everyone. I stopped writing after you left and they're all scared shitless that I'm not going to deliver.'

  He sighed. 'I'm sorry. I didn't think anything or anyone could stop you writing. You've always kept going in the past, no matter what.'

  She smiled bitterly. 'Well, my husband never walked out on me with no explanation before.'

  'I did explain,' he protested.

  'You did not!'

  'I did,' he insisted, 'you just weren't listening.'

  'That is complete bullshit! We were happy, every-thing was fine.'

  He shook his head. 'How can you say that? It hasn't been fine for a long time. I'd tried to talk to you but you just retreated every time I got close.'

  'That's not true.'

  'It is! I gave you so many chances to talk to me, but you wouldn't. Then I knew I had to leave.'

  Dana shook her head but she still wouldn't meet his eyes. 'What exactly is it you wanted me to say?'

&n
bsp; 'I wanted you to tell me about your family, Dana. I wanted you to tell me what happened in Wexford all those years ago.'

  'I don't know what you mean,' she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  'You do,' he told her firmly. 'You do know, Dana. And even now you won't talk to me about it. What kind of marriage have we got, Dana, if you don't trust me?'

  'There's nothing to say,' she murmured, not looking at him. 'It's all in the past.'

  Gus looked at her, his eyes sad. 'You can't bury Dana O'Carroll no matter how much you might want to.'

  She put a hand to her mouth and he noticed her fingers were trembling and her face was positively grey. Gus knew he'd have to back off. He wasn't at all sure if she was emotionally up to any of this. He stood up. 'I wish you'd talk to me, Dana,' he repeated, putting a hand on her shoulder. Turning away he walked, frustrated, to the door.

  'Gus?'

  He looked back, hopeful. 'Yes?'

  'The central heating isn't working properly. Could you take a look at it before you go?'

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ian was amazed when he got Dana's call. He'd been trying to get new staff for her but so far had just found a cleaner who could do two hours a week. Dana would have to do her own shopping and cooking for a while. He'd had no luck in replacing Sylvie, either. But then he hadn't tried that hard. He had met her once since she'd lost her job, and had been shocked at how upset she was.

  'You'll easily pick up another job,' he'd assured her. 'A smart girl like you? It will be no problem.' And then she'd explained about her circumstances. So when Dana rang to say Sylvie could have her job back, he was delighted.

  There were conditions, though, Dana had told him. The job was only on offer if Sylvie worked from home and they communicated via email and phone. 'She can't come back here,' Dana had said. 'I can't trust her.'

  Ian wasn't about to tell Sylvie that last bit.

  Rather than just phone with the good news, he got her address from Dana and hurried around there. Sylvie would be so thrilled.

  He was more than a little baffled, then, when she burst into tears.

  'But I thought you wanted your job back,' he said, bemused.

  'Of course I do! But I can't work from home, Ian. We don't have a computer, never mind access to the internet.'

  'I've an old machine I could lend you,' Ian said. 'You could set up in a corner of your living room—'

  Sylvie shook her head. 'Would you like to see my living room, Ian?'

  He shrugged. 'Sure.'

  Sylvie led Ian into the kitchen where her mother was baking. 'Mum, this is Ian.'

  Maureen's eyes widened as she hurriedly cleaned her hands. 'Hello, Ian, nice to meet you. Sylvie doesn't often bring her friends home.'

  Ian took her hand and smiled. 'Lovely to meet you too, Mrs Parker.'

  'Would you like a cup of tea?'

  'Lovely, thanks—'

  'He doesn't have time for tea,' Sylvie said shortly. 'Is Dad awake?'

  Maureen shot her daughter a look. 'Yes, why?'

  'I just wanted to introduce him to Ian.'

  Maureen smiled. 'He'd like that. Tell him I'll be in with his tea when I've finished this.'

  'Come on.' Sylvie turned Ian around and pushed him across the hall. She tapped gently on the door before sticking her head in. 'Daddy? I've brought someone to meet you, is that okay?'

  'It's not another doctor, is it?' Ian heard the gruff reply.

  'No, it's a guy I work with.'

  'Oh.' The voice brightened considerably. 'Grand.'

  Sylvie opened the door and led Ian into a small room. It was crammed with furniture, the main piece being a bed, in the centre of the room, on which a frail old man was lying. Ian slipped into professional mode and, crossing the room, held out his hand and smiled. 'Hi, Mr Parker, I'm Ian Wilson.' The hand that took his felt like it might snap if Ian squeezed too hard. But it was large too and it was obvious that this man had once been a lot more imposing.

  'It's not often Sylvie brings boyfriends home,' the man said, shooting his daughter a sly look. 'Have you come to ask for her hand?'

  Sylvie laughed as she perched on the edge of the bed. 'Sorry, Dad, you're not getting rid of me yet. Ian was asking me about doing some work from home and I was just showing him that it might be a problem.'

  William Parker shook his head sadly. 'As you can see, lad, we're a bit stuck for space. I keep telling them that if they slipped something into my tea they'd be a lot better off. I know I certainly would.'

  'Dad, don't talk like that!' Sylvie admonished.

  'Sorry, love. Do you like football, Ian?'

  'I do.'

  'Who do you support?'

  'Liverpool, of course.'

  William grinned. 'Good man.'

  Sylvie leaned over to kiss him. 'We've got to go.'

  'Nice to meet you, Mr Parker.'

  'And you, lad. And if you do need anyone to work for you, you won't get better than our Sylvie. She's a real grafter. You'd want to see the day she puts in before she goes to work, and then when she comes home.'

  'Dad, shut up,' Sylvie mumbled, steering Ian towards the door.

  'No harm in telling people your good points, love,' he called after her. 'Goodbye, Ian, nice to meet you.'

  'And you.'

  They said goodbye to Sylvie's mother, and then Ian drove them to a coffee bar nearby. When they were sitting at a Formica-covered table drinking coffee out of cartons, Sylvie finally spoke. 'Well?' she said, her expression defiant.

  'Nice people, your parents,' Ian said, deliberately misunderstanding her. 'But I can see why working from home is not an option. I do, however, have a solution.'

  'You do?' she said doubtfully.

  'You can work from my office.'

  'But—' she started.

  'No buts, it makes perfect sense. It's not exactly a palace and if you want a cuppa you have to go to the cafe at the corner, but it's home.' He hurried on, as already he could see the doubt in her eyes. 'We'd need to get you a desk and a chair—'

  'And a computer and a phone line.' Sylvie shook her head. 'It's hopeless.'

  'I told you, I have an old PC, and it will take no time to get an extra phone line — Dana has to pay for that.'

  'I can't let you do all this for me.'

  'Who says I'm doing it for you?' he said, with a scornful look, designed to stop her feeling like a charity case. 'It would be good for me too. You could answer my phone and take messages for me when I'm not around. I help you, you help me and, hopefully, between us we can help Dana finish this book.'

  'I wouldn't bet on it,' Sylvie said grimly. 'But I'd be happy to hang on to this job for as long as possible.'

  'So, do we have a deal?'

  She smiled. 'Yeah. Yeah, we do.'

  'Good.' The urge to kiss her was immense, but Ian knew she'd be horrified. Instead he stood up and held out his hand. 'Come on, let's go and sort out your office.'

  Within a few hours, Ian had hooked up the old PC and added Sylvie as a user to his email account. 'You can use this while you're waiting for your own account to be set up,' he explained.

  'Ian?'

  He looked up from where he was fixing the old swivel chair that he'd charmed out of the solicitor from upstairs. 'Yeah?'

  She smiled. 'Thanks for your help.'

  He grinned, wondering if she realized that he'd scale Mount Everest in his underwear for a smile like that. 'Don't worry, you'll earn it.'

  Dana had written fifteen hundred words of The Mile High Club and sent them off to Sylvie. She'd earned the right to a drink, a smoke and maybe even a few paragraphs of her autobiography. It was a chilly day and she had pulled on an ancient cashmere sweater, a pair of faded denims, and woolly socks. She'd better start paying more attention to her appearance, she thought as she caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror, or Ryan would soon lose interest. And, she realized, she didn't want that to happen. He cheered her up. He was easy to be with. And she found herself opening up to
him in a way that was completely alien to her.

  That could be down to him, or to the fact that she was feeling so vulnerable after Gus walked out. Or maybe it was down to the autobiography. Writing her story was having the strangest effect on her. Without it, she might have given up altogether and been discovered, sodden, at the bottom of a bottle by now. Gus had wanted her to talk to someone. Maybe this was the next best thing

  On an impulse, she sent a text to Ryan asking him over for dinner the following evening. The reply was immediate.

  YEAH, SURE; BET YOU STAND ME UP AGAIN!

  She smiled. He kept going on about that night that she was supposed to go to his place to watch the football. That had been the day Sylvie and Iris had left. She had been so upset that she had forgotten even to call him.

  She typed a message quickly into her phone.

  I WON'T. PROMISE.

  She sent the message and waited. When he sent his reply she laughed.

  YEAH, YEAH, BELIEVE IT WHEN I SEE IT. C U AT 8. X

  She would phone the bistro around the corner and arrange for a main course and dessert to be delivered. That would leave her time to give the house a good clean. Well, her bedroom, the bathrooms and the kitchen anyway. Phew, she was exhausted just thinking about it. And the house wasn't the only thing getting a makeover. She picked up the phone again and called the beauty salon to make an appointment. When she hung up, she poured a large glass of wine and carried it back into her office. She took a deep breath before opening the file on her laptop and starting to write.

  I was right when I thought that life would never be the same again. Father kept me home from school for a full week after we returned from London. Then one morning as we sat at the table, eating breakfast, he announced that I was to start in a new school on Monday. It was thirty miles away and too far to commute so he said I was to become a boarder.