She’d been astonished the week after that conversation when Dominic had phoned her up and told her that her loan had been approved. She’d jumped up and down with joy and had phoned Sean, who was back in Dublin again, to tell him.
‘Great,’ he said. ‘I’m glad it worked.’
‘What worked?’ she asked.
Sean told her that he had asked his father to talk to the bank manager on her behalf.
‘And because your dad did this they’re giving me the loan?’ Nina was shocked.
‘Hey, why not? Dad plays golf with Bradley. Knows him well.’
Nina was delighted to get the loan but not entirely happy with Anthony Fallon’s involvement. After signing the agreement at the bank, she went around to the doctor’s house. Anthony told her that Sean had been very enthusiastic about her plans for the guesthouse and that he had persuaded him that it could be very profitable.
‘. . . and so I went and talked to Dominic, and of course you do have a lot of work to do, but the house itself is an excellent asset and good security for the loan,’ said Anthony. ‘I reckoned that it was worth the risk.’
‘Well, thank you very much,’ said Nina, who was still taken aback at the notion that the two men had been discussing her financial situation.
‘You’re welcome,’ said Anthony. ‘If my wayward son is sleeping with someone, I’m comforted by the fact that she’s a woman of independent means. And a lot more intelligent than the airheads he normally associates with.’
‘Wayward?’ asked Nina to cover her embarrassment over the fact that Anthony knew she was sleeping with Sean and didn’t seem perturbed about it.
‘He’s wasting his time with that acting lark.’ Anthony snorted. ‘He’s not good enough, I’ve told him that over and over. He’s nearly thirty. He needs to settle down, get a proper job. Fooling around with fringe theatre while working for a delivery company is a waste of his time.’
‘He’s a great actor,’ said Nina loyally.
‘Great doesn’t always mean lucky,’ Anthony told her. ‘He should know that by now. Oh, and speaking of luck, I hope you’re not relying on that to avoid getting pregnant. If you need a prescription for the pill, let me know.’
At that time in Ireland, the pill was prescribed for medical, not family-planning reasons, and it was hard to come by in small towns. But Nina wasn’t stupid. She’d gone to the Well Woman clinic in Dublin. She tried not to look embarrassed as she told Anthony this, but he nodded approvingly.
‘I knew you were a sensible girl,’ he said. ‘That’s what I told Sean, too.’
A few months later, Sean asked Nina to marry him. He proposed to her on the banks of the Bawnee River, where the sunlight dappled through the trees and sparkled on the water. It was a favourite place of theirs, peaceful, secluded and quietly romantic. He told her that he knew she was the one for him and he hoped that he was the one for her. He traced his finger along the curve of her jawline as he spoke and Nina knew that she was going to say yes. But first she wanted to know why he loved her.
‘Because you’re a sexy little minx underneath that quiet exterior.’ He winked as he spoke, which made her laugh.
‘It can’t only be sex,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you’ve had plenty of women who are better than me in bed.’
‘Not plenty,’ said Sean. ‘And not better, either. Of course I’ve had other girlfriends, you know that already. But you suit me the best, Nina Doherty.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re my anchor,’ he told her. ‘You keep me sane.’
‘I do?’ She wasn’t sure that being an anchor was a great reason for him wanting to marry her.
‘You’re the sensible side I don’t have. You’re good for me. You don’t pander to me.’
Not in the way his actor friends did, but whenever he called, she came running. She couldn’t help it.
‘I’m fed up with Dublin,’ he said. ‘It’s a rat race. And I’ve got to realise that I’m never going to make it as a serious actor there.’
‘Is this because of what your father thinks?’
‘My father has a point,’ Sean said. ‘It’s time for me to face facts. I auditioned for a part going on Chandler’s Park last week. They said I was too attractive. The last audition I did, I was told I didn’t have enough character in my face. I’m fed up with their bullshit.’
Nina was sympathetic. Sean was a good-looking man, but his face was smooth and line-free and didn’t fit in with the gritty times the country was going through. It would have been great for him to have landed a part on Chandler’s Park, which was a new soap opera set on a suburban housing estate in Dublin and was getting high ratings.
‘So you want to come back to Ardbawn?’
‘I want to come back to you,’ he said. ‘Besides, I think I’ll be a much better guesthouse owner than actor. I’m hoping you’ll think so too.’
‘Are you sure you love me?’
‘I couldn’t be more certain.’
‘You’ll be happy in Ardbawn?’
‘I already am.’
‘You won’t think you’re settling for second best? After all—’
‘Absolutely not,’ he interrupted her. Then he put his arms around her and kissed her, and she allowed herself to melt into his embrace.
It was a big wedding, paid for by the Fallons. Bridie and Peadar returned for it (it was too far and too expensive a journey for Tom), and they were amazed by the difference to the guesthouse since they’d been there for Dolores’s funeral. Peadar remarked that it must be worth a fair few bob now and that Sean Fallon was doing well marrying a woman with bricks and mortar behind her. Bridie said that her sister had done well for herself in marrying the doctor’s son; didn’t everyone know that old man Fallon had a stash of cash, and hadn’t he pushed the boat out for the wedding? She also muttered that she’d never seen Nina look so well, that her dress was stunning and that it must have cost a fortune. The two of them asked themselves if they shouldn’t have badgered Nina into selling the house when their mother had died, because it seemed to them suddenly that their younger sister had got the better end of the deal, and wasn’t she the sharp one making sure that everything to do with her ownership of the house had been legally dealt with? Not as thick as we supposed, said Peadar darkly. A shrewd little cookie after all.
But the only thing Nina thought was that she was the happiest girl in the world, and that she and Sean would live happily ever after together in their lovely house by the river.
Chapter 4
When Sheridan finally woke up, she thought her head was going to explode. She wished fervently that Talia, who in fairness had looked after her so well the night before, had nevertheless saved her from herself and refused to allow her the two glasses of whiskey she’d drunk on top of the bottles of Bud. Whiskey wasn’t her drink. She’d allowed herself to acquire a bit of a taste for it when she went out with some of the other sports writers, because there was a breed of them (the older ones in particular) who liked hard drink. Those times she took it well watered down and slowly. Just so that she didn’t look different. Last night she’d chugged the damn stuff back as though it was lemonade.
She opened one eye and closed it again as the light from the half-opened curtains stabbed through her brain. And then she opened both of her eyes, more gingerly this time, and realised that she was in Griff’s bed. But he wasn’t there. She vaguely remembered him collecting her from the pub the night before, and a taxi drive to the townhouse in Donnybrook that he shared with two of his five sisters, but she didn’t remember anything else.
She rolled over and looked at the alarm clock. It took a few minutes before the red numbers, which seemed to dance in front of her, settled down again and she could see that it was nearly ten.
She groaned softly. She couldn’t remember a time in her whole life when she’d stayed in bed past nine. At home with the rest of the family half-eight was considered a lie-in. Her dad and the boys were up and out for an early run every single
morning. Alice would have come in from her own run by the time they were leaving so that she could have breakfast ready for their return. Occasionally Sheridan ran with Alice, and sometimes she even went out with her father and brothers, but regardless, she was still usually up by eight for breakfast. When she’d moved in with Talia, she hadn’t been able to break the habit of early rising, even on her days off. She’d stretched the lie-in to nine o’clock after a late night, but she always felt that half the day was wasted if she wasn’t out of the house by ten.
It occurred to her, as she stared at the ceiling, that it wouldn’t much matter what time she got up at in future. There was no reason for her to leap out of bed at all.
‘Stop dramatising,’ she told herself. ‘Get your act together. Remember that this is an opportunity, not a tragedy.’
She sat up and the room did a dizzying 360-degree spin in front of her. She waited for a minute or two to allow it to settle, before sitting up a little more gingerly and reaching out for the bottle of water Griff kept on the bedside table. He’d left a note propped up beside it too. She had to blink a few times before she could make out the words: Hope you’re feeling better this morning. Didn’t want to wake you. Call me later. Stay in the house as long as you like. Gemma and Marianne are out.
OK, she said to herself. Time to take stock of the good things. I can take my time about getting up. I have a great boyfriend. I have a great girlfriend. I’m twenty-nine years old and I can change my life. I’ll get another job and I’ll work my way back to where I was before. And I can freelance. Even though I don’t want to. I just need to think positive thoughts.
Think Positive Thoughts was one of Pat’s mantras. He said it to the boys before they went off to play their matches. He said it to himself too. Both he and Alice were great believers in the power of positive thinking and not letting negativity hold you back. I wonder, thought Sheridan, as she eased herself out of bed, if they win so much because they think positively, or whether it’s because they’re all winners that they don’t understand what it’s like to feel down?
Every bone in her body ached. She pulled Griff’s bathrobe from the back of the bedroom door and wrapped it around her. Then she walked slowly downstairs to the kitchen and made herself a cup of the strong black coffee she needed.
It was early afternoon by the time she headed back to the apartment she shared with Talia in Kilmainham. Kilmainham had been very convenient for getting to the City Scope, a half-hour’s walk at most for Sheridan, who normally set a brisk pace. She usually walked to and from Griff’s place in Donnybrook too, which took about an hour, but although she started off today with good intentions, she was feeling so shaky by the time she got to Ranelagh that she flagged down a cab for the rest of the journey.
Not that I can afford to be jumping into cabs now, she thought gloomily. I’m unemployed. I have to economise.
She hadn’t quite got to grips with that concept yet, but when she said the words in her mind she felt herself shiver. She told herself not to panic. There were bound to be opportunities out there. She just had to find out what they were.
She was surprised to find Talia sitting at the table by the window when she opened the door to the apartment.
‘Decided to work from home today,’ said her friend as she closed the laptop in front of her. ‘How’re you feeling?’
‘I’ve got the hangover from hell,’ confessed Sheridan. ‘My head has an army of hobnailed boots marching through it and my mouth feels like the Gobi Desert after a particularly dry spell. Otherwise I’m fine.’
Talia grinned. ‘That’s my girl.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Sheridan slumped into an armchair and put a cushion behind her neck. ‘Did I make a total arse of myself last night?’
‘You were grand,’ Talia assured her. ‘Once you’d knocked back the Jemmies, you were out of it.’
‘Sorry.’
‘No need to be.’ Talia stood up. ‘Cup of tea?’
‘I’m not sure I can hold it down,’ said Sheridan. ‘I had coffee at Griff’s and threw it up.’
‘Oh dear. I’ll make you some green tea. That’ll fix you.’ Talia was a great believer in its therapeutic qualities, especially for rehydrating hung-over flatmates. ‘I’ve a bit of a confession to make,’ she said as she handed Sheridan the tea and sat down beside her. Sheridan could hear a certain nervousness in her friend’s voice, and she looked at her curiously from her bloodshot eyes.
‘Oh?’
‘Remember the interview I did about a month ago?’
Sheridan rubbed her temple. Talia’s job involved her interviewing lots of people, and there was no way she could remember all of them.
‘For the fashion mag in Belfast. They interviewed me. For the job.’
‘Oh, of course. You said you weren’t all that interested.’ Sheridan’s eyes widened. ‘Has what happened changed your mind? Are you going to call them?’
‘The thing is, I got a phone call from them an hour ago.’
‘And?’
‘They’ve offered me the job.’
‘Wow.’ Sheridan put the mug down. She was stunned by Talia’s news and, she realised, a little jealous too. Not only had her friend been kept on by the City Scope, but she also had the offer of another job. That didn’t seem fair somehow. ‘Are you going to accept?’ she asked.
‘I have to, don’t I?’ replied Talia. ‘Even with Paudie O’Malley’s investment, I’m not sure about the future of the Scope. Besides, with all that’s happened, it’s not the same paper any more. I’m not sure I want to keep working there, and the salary at the magazine is better than I expected.’
‘Even though you’ll have to move to Belfast? Even though you said you didn’t want to? Won’t you be bored out of your head there?’
‘Well, it’s not Dublin, but there’s a good vibe about the place these days. Besides, things have changed, I have to go where the work is.’
‘I guess so,’ said Sheridan.
‘It might be good for me,’ added Talia. ‘I’m in my comfort zone right now. It’s not a bad idea to step out of it from time to time.’
Pat and Alice were big into getting out of comfort zones. Stretch yourself, they used to say to their children. Do things you don’t like doing. Try harder. That was what Sheridan was going to have to do now.
‘When do you start?’
‘Next month,’ said Talia. ‘But I’ve loads of holidays to take, so I’ll finish up at the Scope next week.’
‘I’m delighted for you,’ said Sheridan. On one level she was. On another, she was gutted.
‘My plan is to head off for a week somewhere warm, then get to Belfast to find a place to live and all that sort of stuff before I start at the mag. Fancy coming to the Canaries? They’ll be warm enough even at this time of year.’
‘Tempting,’ admitted Sheridan, ‘but my finances . . .’
‘You’ll have your redundancy money,’ Talia reminded her.
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘But what?’
‘I’m going to have to do some flat-hunting. I can’t afford to keep this place without you, it’s too expensive. I don’t have much savings . . .’
‘Would you stop worrying,’ said Talia. ‘You’ll get something else, no problem.’
‘It might take a bit of time,’ Sheridan said.
‘You deserve a break after what’s happened. Treat yourself.’
‘I’ve never been unemployed and on the scrapheap before,’ said Sheridan. ‘It makes you worried.’
‘You’re not on the scrapheap,’ Talia assured her. ‘And I have an idea about the flat.’
‘You do?’
‘Why don’t you ask Griff to move in with you?’
Sheridan took a sip of her tea and said nothing.
‘It must have crossed your mind at some point over the past few months,’ said Talia. ‘In fact I’m surprised you haven’t dumped me for him already.’
‘I’ve thought about it,’ conceded Sheridan. �
��But I like sharing with you. It’s the best of both worlds. Sharing with Griff – that’s a whole different ball game. It’s making a bit of a statement, isn’t it?’
‘I thought you loved him!’
‘Of course I love him.’ Sheridan smiled and closed her eyes. ‘He’s one in a million in so many ways.’
‘So what’s holding you back?’
‘Well . . . I kind of feel he should be the one asking me to move in with him. I know that sounds sort of girlie and unfeminist of me, but still – me asking him seems somewhat desperate, don’t you think? As though I want to tie him down. Get married, even . . .’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Have you talked about it?’
‘Only in a vague sort of way. To be honest, I wasn’t looking for someone to marry when I met him. I wanted to have my big journalistic career first.’ She grimaced. ‘Not that it’s going entirely to plan now. All the same, I wanted to make a name for myself before I got married.’
‘Your byline is on every second sports piece in the Scope—’
‘Was on every second piece,’ Sheridan corrected her.
‘You did make a name for yourself.’
‘Yeah, but I wanted to land a big interview. With someone controversial. I wanted to make people proud of me.’
‘People? Like who?’
Sheridan shrugged. ‘Well . . . everyone. My mum and dad, I suppose.’
‘I’m sure they’re proud of you already! How many people get to read their daughter’s analysis of an Ireland match in the most influential sports section there is?’
‘I know, I know. It’s just . . .’
‘What?’
‘They aren’t proud of me in the same way they are of Matt and Con,’ she confessed. ‘I know my mam reads all my stuff, but pieces in the paper aren’t as good as trophies in the cabinet.’
‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’
‘Why would I be joking?’
‘Because you’re a very successful journo in a male-dominated area. So quit with the “I’m not a winner” stuff. That’s ridiculous.’
‘To you, maybe. But winning is everything to my parents. While I was at the Scope, I felt as though I had some credibility in their eyes. I reckoned that if I could get a really important interview they’d be so impressed they’d forget I was the one who always came last in the races at home.’
Better Together Page 5