‘I’m sure I’ll see him at the party,’ Alice said brightly. ‘Just remember,’ she warned, ‘a good man is hard to find.’
‘So they say.’ Claire got Alice’s coat for her. ‘And I believe them.’
Now that Alice was gone the house seemed very quiet indeed. Claire was alone with her thoughts once more. Negative thoughts too. Why hadn’t her husband phoned back? Perhaps Shelley had had the audacity not to inform him of her call.
Claire badly needed to talk to him. She wanted him to hold her and assure her that everything would work out fine. She had to tell him about the baby.
‘Where are you Simon?’ she cried with exasperation.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Claire awoke to the sound of the front door opening. The electric red digits on the alarm clock read 11:15. She slipped out of bed and into her comfy slippers. Pulling her old velour dressing gown on she made her way downstairs.
She still couldn’t believe what she was about to tell Simon. To think that in seven months’ time Andrew would have a little brother or sister!
The lamp in the kitchen was switched on. The television sound was low. Simon was lying on the sofa, his eyes half closed. He looked wrecked.
Claire wondered what was up. Simon hadn’t even bothered taking off his scarf. Maybe the stock market had slumped and Simon was taking it personally. Claire didn’t know much about stock markets but knew there were good and bad days.
Today must have been one of the bad ones.
‘Hi.’ She stood at the door.
‘Hi, Claire.’ He managed just a faint smile.
‘Are you hungry? There’s lasagne in the fridge. It would only take a few moments to heat up.’
‘No thanks,’ Simon shook his head, ‘I’m not hungry.’
He looked worryingly strained. Claire sat down beside him in the sofa and took his hand. It was freezing and she rubbed it between her two palms.
‘The electric blanket’s on if you feel like going upstairs. Or I could run a bath. Would you like that?’
‘Maybe I’ll have a bath so.’
‘I’ll run it for you.’
‘I need to tell you something, Claire,’ he said and the flat tone of his voice disturbed her.
Why was he looking at her so oddly?
‘I’ve something to tell you too,’ her voice wavered. Simon put his head in his hands, ‘Jesus, Claire, I’m at a loose end and I don’t know what to do.’
‘What is it?’ Claire asked, her mind suddenly paralysed with fear. ‘What’s bothering you, Simon?’
‘It’s Shelley,’ he said finally. ‘She’s pregnant.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
‘Darren, what are you doing here?’
‘Ssh,’ he interrupted her with a kiss. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Er . . . yes . . . I . . . God, this is such an unexpected surprise.’
Anna led him into the sitting room, thanking God that out of boredom she’d cleaned it during the ad breaks of The Late Late Show. He sat down on the bright yellow sofa which clashed slightly with his orange shirt.
He stretched out his long legs in front of him.
‘So this is your pad, eh?’ Darren looked around the room with interest.
‘Yep.’ Anna struggled to think of something interesting to say but her mind remained blank.
‘I couldn’t wait till next weekend to see you,’ Darren smiled, reminding her of a film star.
Next weekend? Hang on, that was the weekend of the party. Should she bring it up now? No, better wait until later. No point scaring him off.
‘Well, I’m flattered,’ she said instead, sitting down beside him. ‘I’m glad to see you too.’
‘Are you?’
‘Yes,’ she said shyly, ‘I’ve been thinking about you. Have . . . have you been thinking about me too?’
‘God, if only you knew, Anna Allstone,’ he pulled her towards him, ‘I’ve never met anybody like you. I think you’re incredible.’
Anna snuggled into his broad chest, her cheek resting against it, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. If there was ever such a thing as a perfect moment this was it. Afraid to look at him for fear of doing something daft like bursting into tears, she simply murmured, ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.’
She didn’t care about Victoria’s silly party any more. She’d go along with Darren and not give a hoot about the chandeliers and champagne. As long as Darren was by her side, everything else would pale in comparison.
‘Are you tired?’ Darren gently stroked the back of her neck.
‘Mmmm.’
‘Do you want to lie down for a while?’
‘Oh I don’t know about that.’
‘Nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen.’
Now where had she heard that before?
He stood up and stretched provocatively. ‘Come on,’ he winked at her.
‘Okay,’ she said in a little voice and took the arm that was extended to her.
Their lovemaking wasn’t earth shattering. The room didn’t vibrate with explosive passion. Fireworks didn’t suddenly light up Galway Bay. But as far as Anna was concerned it was perfect. Everything seemed just so right.
He took care to find out what she liked, what turned her on. There was no rush, he insisted. They’d all the time in the world to get to know each other’s bodies.
He knew all the right things to say, Anna thought fondly. Even though she knew they didn’t have all the time in the world. Tomorrow, Saturday, would be a very busy day in the store.
In the morning Anna’s alarm clock blasted them out of it.
‘I’ve a friend in Galway who I’m going to visit today,’ Darren called from the shower. ‘So how about I hang around after that and we can do something? How would you like to have dinner in Moran’s?’
Anna thought she’d like it very much. Moran’s was a delightful traditional pub on the weir with a thatched roof. She couldn’t have chosen a more romantic spot herself.
‘And I’ll book a room in a five-star hotel for afterwards. A room with a view.’
‘You’re unbelievable,’ Anna shook her head in wonder at him. ‘What did I do to deserve you?’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Claire sat opposite her husband and stared at him as if in a trance. Right now her head was spinning and she desperately needed to find the right switch to turn it off. Why was her husband’s face as white as a sheet? How was Shelley pregnant? As far as Claire could recall there wasn’t any particular man in Shelley’s life except . . .
‘Simon?’
‘Yes, Claire,’ he sighed.
‘Who’s the father of Shelley’s baby?’
‘Oh Claire, does it really matter?’
She cleared her throat angrily. ‘Yes it does.’
‘She doesn’t want me to tell anybody,’ he said with a firmness in his voice. ‘She’s not coming back to work, that’s all I know.’
‘Why not?’ Claire could feel her temperature rising rapidly. What the hell was going on?
Simon’s eyes eventually met hers. He stretched out his hand and placed it on hers.
‘Claire,’ he said, ‘if you were pregnant with your boss’s child would you come back to the office?’
Claire disengaged her hand from Simon’s and with the other hand slapped his face hard.
‘What the hell . . . ?’ he spluttered.
‘How dare you?’ she screamed. ‘What are you trying to tell me here? Stop playing these mind games with me. Do you hear? STOP IT!’
‘Jesus, Claire,’ Simon looked alarmed, ‘the baby isn’t mine. It’s John’s, remember John who called over here one night with Richard and Jake?’
‘I remember,’ Claire said, her head still spinning. She didn’t know whether to feel angry, shocked or relieved. She sat down on the sofa again, trying to put the pieces of this bloody confusing jigsaw together in her head. ‘So,’ she said eventually, ‘excuse me for being so naive here bu
t what has all this got to do with you?’
‘It’s just that Shelley’s leaving has thrown me. You know Shelley, she practically ran my life. How am I going to cope?’
‘I’m sure you’ll find someone else to go drinking with,’ Claire replied acidly.
‘It’s not that. Jesus,’ Simon sounded exasperated, ‘Shelley knew me inside out.’
‘I don’t want to hear it.’
‘I mean professionally. Of course I mean professionally. Okay we flirted occasionally but that was just a bit of fun. I’d never actually do anything about it. And by the way, Claire, that kiss was a cover up. She wanted people in work to think there was something going on between us so they wouldn’t suspect anything was going on between herself and John. I just got caught up in the middle of it all. I couldn’t believe that you actually saw her kiss me. Now you might believe me about what was really going on.’
‘Well, it did look pretty fishy to me. You can’t blame me for losing it. But I shouldn’t have resorted to spying on you. I don’t want us ever to have that lack of trust between us again.’
‘Yeah well, I know I was going out and getting pissed too much. I suppose work was getting to me and I thought staying out all night drinking would solve my problems. But I guess I’m sick of waking up on other people’s floors with a hangover. I should have done that as a student and got it out of my system like a normal bloke.’
Claire laughed, ‘It’s not a great feeling, is it?’
‘Nope, come here to me and give me a big hug.’ Claire sat down on her husband’s knee. ‘So do you think you’ll be able to get another PA or what?’
‘It’ll be difficult,’ Simon admitted. ‘A lot of them just like to come in and look at the clock or while away the hours painting their nails. Most of the temps don’t last the day.’
‘I could do it,’ Claire said suddenly, ‘I mean, you could train me in.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Why not? I want to get back into the work place anyway. But the thing is I could only do it for a few months.’
‘How come?’
‘I’m pregnant.’
‘What!’
Claire couldn’t keep the smile off her face. ‘Yes, I was just waiting for the right moment to tell you.’
‘I can’t believe it!’
‘Are you pleased?’
‘Pleased? Jesus, Claire, I’m over the moon.’ He placed a hand over her tummy. ‘This is the best possible news you could give me.’ Claire relaxed. And then cried. The tears just wouldn’t stop flowing down her cheeks. Everything was going to work out. She was so happy she almost felt guilty. Guilty that she’d despised Shelley so much. Guilty that the father of Shelley’s baby wouldn’t be holding her this very minute, while the tears streamed down her cheeks, telling her he was the happiest man alive. Guilty for suspecting Simon of a crime he didn’t commit.
Thank God they were going to be a real family again.
Thank God.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
‘Are you the manager?’ An irate customer drummed a handful of knuckles on the counter in front of Anna.
‘Yes,’ Anna said, bracing herself for a full tirade.
‘I bought these slippers three months ago and . . .’ Blah, blah, blah.
‘We’ll refund you the price of the slippers,’ Anna replied wearily, wishing she could tell the angry red-faced woman to fuck off with herself.
The store was crammed with frantic late-night shoppers. Seven-thirty couldn’t come fast enough for Anna. She wanted all these people to go away and leave her alone. In fact she wanted them to exit the world altogether so that herself and Darren could have it all to themselves. She adored the man. He was definitely her prince charming.
The Ferrari was waiting at the dot of seven-thirty. Anna slipped into the passenger seat with her little overnight bag, full of anticipation of the night yet to come.
It was still bright with no sign of rain, which was a miracle for Galway. Darren turned on the engine and they headed for Moran’s.
Moran’s was buzzing with tourists and locals. Anna relaxed, enjoyed her seafood and drank in the ambient atmosphere. Back at the hotel, their lovemaking was more passionate than the night before. More urgent. More frantic. They practically ripped the clothes off each other between glasses of champagne and room service.
For the second night, Anna slept peacefully in Darren’s arms, this time comforted by the fact that she didn’t have to set the alarm clock.
She woke just after ten to find the bed empty. She heard the sound of running water from the bathroom.
‘Can I join you?’ she stood in the doorway naked.
‘Hey, come on in,’ he called, ‘I’ll allow you to scrub my back.’
She stepped into the bath and let him work a lather of soap over her. The hot water sluiced over them. Then she did the same to him. She loved all this. Being part of a couple. A real couple. She was fed up with the games. Leave the players to the other women in the world. She wanted a real man. She had a real man.
Afterwards as they sat on the huge bed, drying each other off, Anna told Darren that she’d never felt this happy. She confided that she’d all but given up on finding Mr Right.
‘There’s a lot of dodgy men out there,’ Darren agreed. ‘You have to be careful.’
‘Then again you can’t be too wary,’ Anna countered. ‘After all you were a dodgy stranger at the airport.’
‘True,’ Darren laughed.
‘So tell me,’ Anna tousled Darren’s damp hair playfully, ‘have you had many girlfriends?’
‘Not really,’ he answered uncomfortably. ‘Now,’ he said, swiftly changing the subject and giving her bare bottom a playful slap, ‘are you getting dressed or what?’
‘Yeah, yeah, leave me alone,’ Anna said lazily.
‘But seriously though, have you ever been like really madly in love with anybody?’
‘I don’t like to think too much about the past,’ Darren said.
After lunch, Darren insisted on hitting the road. Anna was disappointed. What was the rush all about?
‘I want to hit the road before the traffic,’ Darren explained and then kissed her lips tenderly.
‘I’ll be up in Dublin on Tuesday,’ Anna said eagerly.
‘I’ve Tuesday as well as Saturday and Sunday off this week to make up for last week’s workload. So we’ll be able to see lots of each other,’ she enthused.
‘Well, I’ll see what I can do. I’ve a load of meetings and stuff to get through next week so I can’t make any plans just yet.’
‘What about the weekend?’ Anna knew she should quit while she was ahead but somehow couldn’t find the lid to quash her motormouth.
‘Saturday, no – Friday? Yeah, we’ll definitely do something on Friday.’
‘I was hoping we could meet up on Saturday,’ Anna gushed. ‘Some of my friends are meeting up and I was thinking . . .’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Darren silenced her with a kiss.
And then he was gone.
Anna was glad when Aoife finally returned home that evening. She’d spent the whole day moping about the place, switching on the TV and then switching it off again. She’d watered Aoife’s plants at least three times and had made endless cups of tea she didn’t even feel like drinking. Why had Darren shot back up to Dublin when he could have spent the whole day with her?
Had she said something or what? Maybe it was because he’d seen her without her make-up. Maybe he felt she was hurrying things along too much. Then again he was the one saying he was mad about her. It was baffling.
Unfortunately Aoife insisted she couldn’t chat for very long. She said she was already feeling guilty for taking the rest of the weekend off and now she intended to put her head down and slog for a few hours.
She showed a slight polite interest in Anna’s weekend before disappearing off to her room. Anna was left abandoned in the sitting room with the heavy black phone choosing to remain irrit
atingly silent.
Maybe she should ring Darren and thank him for the fabulous weekend.
Just a teeny weeny call.
No way, a stern voice boomed inside her head. Haven’t you learned your lesson yet, you thick eejit? Go out. Get busy. Do something useful, you clown.
Okay, okay, I back down, Anna succumbed to the angry voice. She put on a heavy bomber jacket and a pair of sneakers and set off to march the prom.
There was no point in worrying about trivial things.
Darren was mad about her.
He’d said so.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
‘Mrs Murphy has agreed to look after Andrew on a regular part-time basis,’ Claire told her husband happily.
They were walking in the Wicklow Mountains, Claire pushing Andrew’s buggy, Simon struggling with Blackie’s lead. Like an ad for Flora, Claire thought. When Simon had suggested Dún Laoighaire pier, Claire had swiftly suggested the mountains. It wouldn’t do to bump into Tom just now. Claire was determined to take her little secret to the grave. Sure, what would be the point in telling Simon anything now? It would only upset him.
Their marriage might not survive it.
‘That’s great news,’ Simon smiled and bent down to release their over-excited dog from his straining lead. ‘You’re a star.’
‘To be honest, I’m a bit nervous about going back to the workplace again.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ Simon assured her. ‘You’ve brains to burn. You’ve an honours degree, for God’s sake.’
‘Well, that’s true,’ Claire admitted. ‘Oh, I’m just being silly, aren’t I?’
‘You’ll be a massive support to me.’
‘What will we call the baby?’ She suddenly didn’t want to be talking about work any more.
‘If it’s a boy we could call him Simon, after me?’
‘Oh God, no. One Simon is enough,’ Claire laughed.
‘I don’t care if you call him Arnold Schwarzeneggar. As long as the baby is healthy, I’ll be one happy man.’
On Monday evening she tried on her new dress.
‘Stunning.’ Simon couldn’t hide his admiration.
Mr Right for the Night Page 20