‘Of course it’s great,’ she said.
‘So we don’t need the other stuff. The dull stuff. The making-plans-and-settling-down stuff. It’s way too much responsibility for me right now.’
He was thirty-one years old. Sheridan’s father had been married with kids by then. She wondered when it had happened that men in their early thirties decided they were too young for responsibility. Then she reminded herself that, until yesterday, she hadn’t been thinking much about responsibilities herself. And that her mother had had three children by the time she was twenty-nine.
‘We’ve had some great times,’ she agreed. ‘I suppose they won’t last for ever. Obviously they won’t,’ she added, ‘if we’re not interested in . . . in taking things further.’
‘This is the best relationship I’ve ever had,’ he told her. ‘You’re one of the most brilliant girlfriends in the world. There’s no reason to mess it up by making it into something else. Not yet.’
‘I know. But . . .’ She sighed. ‘I shouldn’t have listened to Talia. I shouldn’t have thought about the whole living-together thing. The problem is, now that I have . . .’
‘You’ve changed everything,’ finished Griff.
‘I’m sorry.’
Griff took his credit card out of his wallet and handed it to the waiter, who’d arrived with the bill. ‘My treat tonight, seeing as you’re one of the recently unemployed.’
They normally split the bill. Sheridan preferred it that way. But tonight she let Griff pay.
‘So what now?’ asked Griff as they stood on the pavement outside the restaurant. ‘Do you want to come back to the house?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘D’you want me to come back to your place?’
‘No.’
‘Do you want ever to see me again?’
Of course she wanted to see him again. She still loved him. But she couldn’t unsay what had been said and she couldn’t get past the fact that he didn’t want to live with her.
‘I’ll call you,’ he said when she didn’t speak.
‘OK.’
‘Well, good night so.’ He hesitated for a moment, then put his arms around her and drew her towards him.
‘No.’ She swallowed hard. ‘No, Griff, don’t.’
‘Come on, Sher.’ His expression was pained. ‘You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.’
‘I don’t think we will,’ she said. ‘And . . . and . . . maybe it’s better if you don’t call me after all.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ he asked. ‘You’ve had a rough time. I’m sorry I didn’t say what you wanted tonight, but maybe you’ll see that ultimately it’s the right thing.’
‘If it’s the right thing, then we’re wasting our time together.’
‘How can enjoying somebody’s company be wasting your time?’ he asked.
She’d once asked the same question herself. Talia had been nagging her about her habit of going out on Saturday nights with different male friends to watch the match in a pub. Her friend had asked if there wasn’t one guy that she wanted to go out with more than others. When Sheridan said no, Talia had questioned her as to why she was wasting her time with so many men if none of them mattered to her. Sheridan had responded that she enjoyed being with them. That they were friends. And, she’d asked Talia, how could having fun with people you liked be wasting your time? She’d spoken the truth then. What had happened to make her change her mind?
‘But if you think that’s what we’ve been doing . . .’ His voice was harder than she’d ever heard it before. ‘No point in hanging around. No point in long goodbyes.’
‘No point at all.’
She watched him raise his arm and hail a taxi, and then he was gone. She turned up Georges Street and began walking. She couldn’t quite believe that in the space of two days she’d managed to lose her job, her flatmate and her boyfriend. A hat-trick of losses. She felt sick. As a parrot.
Chapter 6
Nina had once felt that God was looking out for her the day she married Sean Fallon. She was totally and utterly in love with her husband and, to her astonishment, because he could have had anyone he chose, he seemed to be totally in love with her too. She reckoned that she was the kind of woman he needed, someone calm and sensible who could rein in some of his madder ideas and be a bulwark against his occasionally emotional outbursts. She sometimes still felt inadequate in the glamour stakes in comparison to his previous girlfriends (because no matter how hard she tried, she simply didn’t have that extra something that all truly glamorous women do), but she knew that Sean hadn’t married her for glamour. He’d married her because he loved the down-to-earth practicality of her and her ability to abandon that side of her nature when they were beneath the sheets together.
‘You’re my perfect match,’ he whispered on their wedding night. ‘My dad was right about you.’
Nina, despite her initial reservations, got on well with Anthony Fallon, although his wife was cooler towards her. But she didn’t care about her in-laws any more. All that mattered was that she was the one who’d tamed Sean, and that she was the one who had him by her side.
Over time, Sean took over the front-of-house running of the guesthouse. Nina didn’t mind that he was the one who was greeting the guests and making them feel welcome, even though that was the part of owning the Bawnee River Guesthouse that she’d always enjoyed the most. But Sean was even better at it than her, charming the guests with his broad smile, making them feel instantly at home, allowing them to believe that they were treasured friends instead of paying customers. He also took over the finances. Nina didn’t mind that at all – she never wanted to talk to Dominic Bradley again if she could help it. So she was happy to look after the cooking and the cleaning and allow Sean to be the kind of host who ensured that everyone who stayed with them had a good time. The result of which meant that their level of repeat bookings rose steadily higher every year.
The success of the guesthouse allowed them to have a comfortable, if busy, life. After the children were born, they hired a succession of young women to help with the cleaning, while Sean brought them into the digital age by ensuring that there was Wi-Fi access for the guests, who increasingly booked through the well-laid-out website with its enticing videos of the surrounding countryside. And although the last few years had been difficult as a result of recessionary times, Nina always felt that with Sean at her side she could weather any storm. They were a couple whose marriage worked. There had been a time when the children were small when there had been a rip in the fabric of their lives together. It had shaken Nina to the core. But they’d overcome it. They’d set boundaries for each other. It had all been, if not exactly worthwhile, constructive in the end. She was quite certain that there was nothing in the world that could drive them apart.
At least, she thought, that was what she’d believed until Hayley bloody Goodwin had turned up a week before the production of Pygmalion and sobbed that Brian Carton, who was playing the role of Henry Higgins, and Stephen Lyons, his understudy, had both broken a limb (an arm in Brian’s case, a leg in Stephen’s) trying to rescue a stupid sheep that had got stranded on the riverbank. The two men had lost their footing when loose earth had given way, and fallen down an embankment.
‘Why were they so bloody stupid!’ cried Hayley.
‘Because they’re men.’
It was Nina who answered, because Sean had taken out the SUV to pick up a guest from the riding stables and wasn’t there to hear Hayley’s anguished wails.
‘Stupid sheep, stupid men,’ said Hayley morosely. ‘Didn’t either of them stop to think about the play at all?’
‘I doubt it,’ Nina replied. ‘After all, sheep are far more important to farmers.’
‘Well, I’m in a total mess,’ said Hayley. ‘And the only person I could think of to help me out is Sean. He knows the role, doesn’t he? He said so.’
‘Hayley, it’s more than twenty years since Sean even stood on a stage. He would
n’t remember the part, or how to play it, for that matter.’
‘He’s my only hope,’ said Hayley. ‘The guesthouse isn’t that busy – you said yourself that bookings are down. You can spare him, surely.’
Nina looked at the other woman helplessly. ‘There’s a lot of work to be done here no matter how many guests we do or don’t have.’
‘But you’ll ask him if he can help, won’t you? Otherwise we’ll have to cancel the show. And that would be an absolute disaster.’
Hayley had gone by the time Sean returned and Nina gave him her message. She laughed and told Sean that she couldn’t imagine him on stage with the amateurs at all and that she was sure he wanted to refuse but that she hadn’t liked to give Hayley the brush-off. She’d expected Sean to be equally dismissive, but instead he looked thoughtful.
‘It might be a bit of fun,’ he said.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’
‘It was once my dream.’
‘You’ve always been scathing about the dramatic society. You never wanted to be involved.’
‘Because they’re so unprofessional.’
‘That’s because they’re not professionals,’ said Nina. ‘You used to say you weren’t a professional either.’
Sean had always told Nina that unless he could make a living from acting, it was better to consider himself an amateur rather than a professional. But he had always tried to be professional in how he approached his work. He reminded her of this now.
‘Do you regret giving it up?’ She’d picked up on the tone of his voice. ‘Do you think you could’ve made a proper go of it? You were good enough,’ she added loyally. ‘I always thought so.’
‘You know you have to be more than good, you have to be lucky. Back then you didn’t have the chance of instant TV or internet fame either. It was hard graft. And I didn’t have the right look – or luck – remember.’
Nina doubted that anyone would be considered too good looking for acting these days. She felt a sudden pang of sympathy for her husband.
‘You could’ve made a go of it, I’m sure.’
‘Not married to you and living in Ardbawn, which, let’s face it, isn’t exactly a teeming thespian metropolis.’
Marrying her had been the decision he’d wanted to make. The grown-up choice, he’d said. And Ardbawn was the place for him to be.
‘Do you want to act in the play to regain your lost youth?’
‘Less of the lost youth,’ said Sean. ‘I’ve grown better with age.’
‘That’s true.’
He kissed her. ‘I want to help them out. The show must go on and all that sort of thing. D’you mind?’
‘Of course not. It’ll be fun. You deserve a bit of fun.’
‘I do, don’t I?’ And he went to phone Hayley to give her the good news.
Nina couldn’t go to any of the performances of Pygmalion because – happily – the guesthouse was almost full that week, and every night at least some of the guests wanted evening meals. But over the course of the week-long run of the show, everyone staying with them saw it, and they all agreed that Sean had been brilliant as Henry Higgins.
‘Got the accent right, got the character right – just fantastic,’ said Mona Bartholomew, a woman who’d been coming to Ardbawn at the same time for the past five years. ‘And he looked the part too. Very distinguished.’
Nina smiled. Sean had been right when he’d said he’d grown better with age, because he certainly was more attractive now than he’d been in his thirties. He’d lost the smooth look and become more rugged. And he had a faint scar too, which ran from the corner of his eye across his cheek. (So not fair, she often thought, wrinkles and grey hair suited him, while she had to lash out on ever more expensive creams and colour foams to try to keep the lines at bay and retain the dark hair that had attracted him in the first place.)
She knew that he was relishing being the centre of attention. Sean always liked being in the limelight; it was why he was so good with the guests. He joked with them, pandered to them and generally made them feel as though he was working for each one of them individually. But the truth was that he enjoyed being the one they turned to and the one they asked for advice on where to go and what to do in Ardbawn.
For the week of the show she was the one doing all these things, but Sean was still the person everyone was talking about. The guests who went to see the play congratulated her on having such a talented husband. The local paper ran a piece on him, calling his performance a ‘tour de force’, which Nina thought was possibly exaggerating, but then again the Central News liked to big up the townspeople as much as possible. So she cut out the report, had it framed and hung it in the hallway where all the guests could see it.
After the run, the society held a big party for the cast and their families. She’d heard nothing but good things about her husband’s performance. Hayley Goodwin had been euphoric, saying that she hadn’t realised what a talent had been hidden in Ardbawn. She was already talking about Sean in a leading role for their next production, although they hadn’t yet decided what it would be. Nina thought that other members of the society might resent him, but they didn’t. They embraced him. Though none as enthusiastically as Hayley.
He could have had an affair with Hayley Goodwin. After all, she’d been one of the many girls to write Sean Fallon’s initials on her schoolbag over twenty years ago in the hope that he’d notice her. She’d admitted this to Nina with a laugh at Nina and Sean’s wedding reception. But Sean didn’t have an affair with Hayley. Sometimes Nina thought it would have been easier to deal with if he had.
A few weeks after the end of the show, Sean received a phone call. It was from Kieran Keating, one of the guests who’d gone to see it. Nina heard her husband speaking to him and she hoped Kieran was making another booking. He’d been a model guest, no trouble and a pleasant person to deal with.
When Sean finished the call, he came into the kitchen, a stunned expression on his face.
‘He’s a TV producer,’ he told Nina. ‘He saw me in Pygmalion. He’s interested in me for a part in Chandler’s Park.’
‘You’re kidding me.’ She looked at him in utter astonishment.
‘I know, isn’t it amazing? I told them they’d passed me over years ago and he couldn’t believe it. Said that I had great presence – and rugged good looks.’
Nina looked at the scar on his face, which hadn’t been there the first time he’d auditioned for Chandler’s Park. The scar that elevated him from being boyishly attractive to having a certain edge. She dug her nails into her palms and then relaxed.
‘Just goes to show, doesn’t it?’ she said calmly. ‘What role are they thinking of?’
‘Apparently Kathryn’s estranged brother returns and Fiona gets a bit of a crush on him. They want someone “rakish” to be the brother.’
Nina couldn’t help laughing, and Sean grinned. ‘Rakish enough for Fiona, anyway.’
‘Isn’t she a bit young for you?’
Kathryn was one of the soap’s main characters, and Fiona, her daughter, was a rebellious teenager who’d had addiction problems but was trying to clean up her act. She was played by Lulu Adams, a rising star who – despite being in her early twenties – looked every inch a stroppy seventeen year old on the soap.
‘Yes. But I’m not interested in her, of course. I think it’s just so’s her character gets even more drama in her life. I don’t know where the storyline is going and I might not even get the part. Kieran wants me to come and do a screen test.’
‘A screen test.’ Nina’s eyes opened wide. ‘Sounds like Hollywood.’
‘I never thought I’d get this sort of chance again,’ he told her. ‘I thought that maybe I was being punished.’
‘Oh, Sean . . .’
‘This is real acting,’ he said fiercely. ‘With real actors. And I know I mightn’t even get the part, but I want to try.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ said Nina. ‘I’m sure you’re exactly rig
ht for them.’
She was right. He got the part. And the feedback was so good that they extended his time on the show. A few weeks after the role had finished, he got another call from Kieran. Audiences had liked him so much they were thinking of bringing the character back for a longer run. Would he be interested?
It was something Nina and Sean had to discuss. His few weeks on Chandler’s Park had been fun but stressful, because they involved twelve-hour days, which meant that he was out of the guesthouse the whole time. It didn’t matter too much as it was a slow period, with very few guests, so Nina could easily manage on her own, but the idea of Sean having a full-time job outside the guesthouse was something they’d never had to consider before.
‘I managed before I married you; I guess I could manage again,’ said Nina, although the prospect seemed daunting now.
‘It wouldn’t be for ever,’ said Sean. ‘I’m sure they’ll write me out of it sooner or later.’
‘You know how it is with some of those soaps. Once you’re in, they only kill you off to get rid of you! There are actors who spend their whole lives in a part.’
Sean laughed. ‘I’m a bit long in the tooth to be considered a whole-lifer,’ he said. ‘I’m fifty-one, after all.’
‘Maybe they’ll keep you till you’re eighty.’
‘I don’t think so. I’m supposed to be a kind of devil-may-care, heartbreaker type. Wouldn’t quite work with a Zimmer frame.’
‘With you it probably would.’ Nina had enjoyed her husband’s role in the soap, even though it also made her a little bit nervous. He’d loaded on the charm as Kathryn’s devil-may-care brother, and the word was that middle-aged women everywhere had fallen for him. If she hadn’t already been married to him she would have fallen for him herself.
‘So what do you think?’
‘I think you’re going to do it anyway.’
‘Not without us talking it through first.’
‘So talk.’
‘It’s a huge opportunity. For me personally and for us as a family. The money will make up for the last couple of seasons and help get things back on to an even keel.’
Better Together Page 7