A couple sat down at the table next to them; they were bleary-eyed and stoned. Although she and Bryan had enjoyed their hash brownie, they’d decided they didn’t want to spend their time in Amsterdam in a drugged haze or pissed out of their skulls. It would be a complete waste of money. Tomorrow they were going to explore, visit some art galleries, take a trip on the canals, visit Anne Frank’s house. The options were endless. It was going to cost money they could ill afford but, if the wedding was off, it wouldn’t be such a problem.
Bryan smiled at her and reached across the table and took her hand. ‘I’m having a ball. Thanks so much, Debbs, you’re the best.’ He squeezed her hand tightly and Debbie squeezed back happily.
She’d chosen the right path to go down. Had she gone down the road of resentment and anger, which had been her first reaction, she wouldn’t be sitting here with him, happier than she’d been in a long, long time. He was happy too, full of enthusiasm for making the most of their stay in Amsterdam.
A thought struck her. It was the road of resentment and anger that had led to a dangerous crack in their relationship. It was because of those negative emotions she felt towards her father that she’d lost sight of what their wedding should be. Her mother was right: she needed to move on and let go or she’d never be happy. It was time to sort things out with her father. Time to forgive and forget. She couldn’t run away from it for ever.
‘You’re where?’ Connie couldn’t believe her ears. When she’d called Debbie’s mobile and heard the unfamiliar tone, she’d thought something was wrong with the phone. ‘You’re in Amsterdam! When did you decide this? You never said anything.
‘Spur of the moment,’ she echoed. ‘Right. Well, enjoy yourselves. Call me when you get home, OK?’ Connie shook her head in disbelief as she hung up. Debbie and Bryan were in Amsterdam on a mini break, a month before their wedding. It was crazy. Irresponsible to be getting into even more debt. She wasn’t going to tell Barry – he’d explode, and rightly so. Weddings were so expensive these days, the least they could do was to share the financial burden as much as they could. Even with cheap flights and accommodation, breaks to Europe cost money, money Debbie and Bryan didn’t have. There was no point in talking to them. Why was she sitting worrying about them? she thought crossly as she plugged in the iron to press her uniform. Karen was right. It was time to start living her own life.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Judith sat at her desk, shuffling papers in front of her. It was a wet Monday morning, after the sunny weather of the previous day. She’d wanted to cry coming into work this morning. The same familiar grind, the same faces, the same old, same old. The week stretched out like an eternity ahead of her.
A sheet of paper caught her eye. It was Debbie Adams’ yearly assessment form – dependent on which was her increment. Madam Adams hadn’t appeared yet. She was half an hour late. Judith ticked the box marked ‘poor’ on the form beside the question about her punctuality.
Her phone rang. A man’s voice came down the line. ‘This is Bryan Kinsella, Debbie Adams’ fiancé. Debbie won’t be in today or tomorrow; she has a bug. She’ll be back Wednesday if she’s OK.’
Judith wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard a giggle in the background.
‘Fine,’ she snapped. ‘Thank you for calling.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he said politely and, this time, Judith knew she wasn’t imagining things. There was definitely a woman giggling in the background.
‘Poor’, she ticked in the box marked attendance. If Debbie Adams thought she was going to get an increase in salary this year, she had another think coming. The day dragged on and sheets of rain battered her office window, making her feel even gloomier.
She wondered where Debbie and her fiancé were, probably stuck in bed, at it like rabbits. She no more had a bug than the man in the moon. Judith felt a surge of irrational hatred for the younger woman but, with an enormous effort, she dragged her concentration back to the stack of files on her desk that needed her attention.
Tuesday was no better. It had been an effort to crawl out of bed and get ready for work. Her heart was heavy as she stepped into the crowded lift and pressed the button for her floor. Debbie Adams’ empty desk mocked her. A peach mini-rose plant bloomed gloriously on her desk and a photo of a tall, handsome young man sat beside it. Her fiancé, no doubt. A calendar of love poems hung from her noticeboard. How soppy, thought Judith with a sneer of derision. The desk appeared messy with all the personal bits and pieces. There was too much to divert attention from work. What was the little liar doing today? she wondered nastily as she let herself into her office. The smirk would be swiftly removed from her face when she discovered that she was not going to get her increment.
Loneliness enveloped Judith as she closed the door behind her. Her own desk was immaculate but impersonal. Sterile even. Not for her plants and photos of lovers or children, which some of the other women decorated their desks with. Well, she had neither, she thought with a wave of sadness. Unaccountably, Judith felt close to tears. She swallowed hard as two big ones plopped on to the desk. Frantically, she blew her nose and tried to compose herself. What on earth was wrong with her? Why were her emotions in such upheaval? Why was she so weepy, she who rarely cried? It had to be hormonal, menopausal stuff, Judith rationalized as she stood up and stared out the window. Ever since her one-nightstand she’d been weeping like a willow.
She should go and see a doctor, go on HRT or something. Was it her hormones or something much deeper in her psyche? What could lift the shroud of gloom and depression she felt so mired in these days? What could take away that awful, heavy, anxious dread that seemed permanently lodged in her stomach? Would tranquillizers take the edge off the restlessness she felt? Was she heading for a nervous breakdown? she wondered wildly. She’d heard that the Change could do strange things to women, make them depressed and anxious. That was exactly how she felt, she thought with rising panic. Maybe she was more like her mother than she knew. Fear seized her. That thought was scary. She studied the big plate window with the side opening. Would it hurt much if she jumped? she wondered recklessly.
‘Get a grip on yourself,’ she muttered. Imagine if someone walked into the office and saw her in this state? It would be around the building like wildfire that Judith Baxter was cracking up.
Aimee could hear the laughter as she pushed open the door to Bianconi’s, and then she saw them right at the back, seated at a round table, laughing uproariously. How very girly, Aimee thought irritably. Two sharp-suited businessmen nearby turned to look at them. No wonder women got a bad name, she reflected as she made her way past the counter filled with luscious goodies, down to the table at the back wall, her high heels click-clacking against the wooden floor.
She remembered being at a working lunch with a group of businessmen, once, and a party of women beside them had drunk bottles of champagne and got louder and louder as their meal progressed. ‘Silly wimmen talking about silly wimmen’s stuff,’ her florid-faced, pinstriped table companion had remarked scathingly. No doubt these two suits were thinking along the same lines.
‘Here’s Aimee,’ she heard Gwen say, and they all turned to wave at her. Ellie jumped out of her chair and hugged her.
‘Hi, long time no see – you’re looking terrific,’ her old friend remarked admiringly, looking her up and down.
‘Thanks. You look pretty good yourself.’ Aimee smiled, hugging her back. The other woman looked tanned and healthy, and she’d cut her long, black hair and wore it short and feathery. ‘The hair suits you.’
‘Do you think? I do so much surfing and water-sports it’s just easier to manage,’ Ellie explained as she sat back down.
‘Hi, you guys.’ Aimee greeted the other two women at the table, and sat down in the empty chair beside Gwen.
‘Well, we’re honoured,’ Sally, another friend, teased. ‘You were able to fit us in.’
‘Ah, stop it,’ Aimee retorted. She gave a double take. ‘You’re preg
nant!’ she said accusingly. ‘You never told me.’
‘Well, you’re always so busy these days. I’d never ring you at work now; I gave it up as a bad job. You’re always at meetings or out of the office,’ Sally responded lightly, buttering a piece of walnut bread.
‘Ring me at home then.’
‘I did a few times and you weren’t there.’
‘I do travel a fair bit,’ Aimee said defensively. ‘How far along are you?’ She changed the subject briskly.
‘Twenty-six weeks, but who’s counting?’ Sally grinned.
‘Well, rather you than me, but I know you’re happy about it. You’re glowing.’ Aimee shook out her napkin. ‘Where’s Kim and Jill?’ She looked around the table.
‘Kim’s little one’s got a tummy bug so she had to cancel. And Jill’s in the loo,’ Gwen informed her.
‘Aw, that’s a shame,’ Aimee murmured, but secretly she was relieved. She had been dreading the awkward moment of offering her sympathy on the death of the other woman’s mother.
‘What are you having to drink? We’ve cracked open a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.’ Gwen waved a half-full champagne flute at her.
‘Better not – I’m driving,’ Aimee demurred.
‘Aw, Aimee,’ Ellie remonstrated. ‘It’s our girls’ lunch. God knows when we’ll have another one.’
‘Well, maybe half a glass, then. Have you ordered?’
‘No, we waited for you.’ Gwen handed her a menu. ‘The basil mash is very tasty, and they’ve got the monkfish wrapped in Parma ham on today, that’s lovely as well, if you want to go for a fish dish.’
‘Hmmm.’ Aimee gave it a quick glance. ‘A Caesar salad with dressing on the side for me,’ she said, ordering her usual. She wasn’t into fish and pasta was too fattening.
‘Are you having a starter?’
‘Is everyone else?’ She looked around the table, hoping the answer was no.
‘Of course,’ said Sally. ‘And dessert . . . some of us don’t get out to lunch as often as others, you know.’
Was it her imagination or was Sally needling her a bit? Aimee wondered.
‘Definitely dessert. The florentines here are to die for,’ Gwen agreed emphatically, and the others laughed. Aimee’s heart sank. It was clear they were here for the long haul.
‘Fine, I’ll have the soup,’ she said crisply. She had no intention of staying for dessert. A two-course lunch in the middle of a working day was long enough for anyone. Gwen and Ellie wouldn’t be in that much of a rush, granted, but Sally worked in a busy architectural office. Surely she had to get back to work.
‘Are you taking a long lunch?’ Aimee asked her, nibbling on a bread stick.
‘I had to go for a check-up this morning, which was very convenient timing, so I rang them at work and said there were delays and I’d be back late,’ Sally replied nonchalantly.
Typical, thought Aimee, disgusted. No wonder Sally had never progressed beyond being a secretary/receptionist with a work ethic like that. She had barely scraped through her exams at college and had been far more concerned with finding a husband than climbing up the career ladder.
‘Hello, stranger,’ a voice behind her said, and Aimee turned to find a tall, leggy brunette looking down at her.
‘Hey, Jill, what happened to you?’ she exclaimed, seeing the other woman’s arm in plaster and a sling.
‘Had a collision with an over-eager defender on the basketball court,’ Jill said wryly.
‘You’re not still playing basketball!’
‘Of course I am.’ Jill eased herself into her seat. ‘Have to keep fit somehow.’
‘I can think of easier ways. So you can’t drive. How are you managing?’
‘With great difficulty.’ Jill made a face. ‘At least I can work from home a lot, and Gwen and Sally have been great, ferrying me around. It’s true what they say about a friend in need. I’d be lost without them.’ She smiled affectionately at Sally and Gwen.
‘And what about Bob?’ Aimee looked at her in surprise, wondering why she’d be so dependent on the girls.
‘We’ve split up.’ Jill shrugged. ‘I found out he was seeing someone else on the side, so I kicked him out.’
‘Oh . . . oh . . . I didn’t know. I’m sorry,’ Aimee murmured, thinking it strange that Gwen hadn’t told her. ‘Did it happen recently?’
‘About three months ago. Crap timing.’ She pointed to her arm.
‘Umm. Tough,’ Aimee said sympathetically, thinking that, apart from the quick call to arrange the lunch, it had been at least three months since she’d spoken to Gwen, so no wonder she didn’t know.
‘Yeah, but tell her about the gorgeous referee that took you to the hospital,’ Sally urged wickedly.
‘Look, will you give over about that.’ Jill threw her eyes up to heaven.
‘Well, you know the old saying . . . To get over someone you have to get under someone else,’ Sally said matter-of-factly.
They all hooted with laughter but, as the conversation ebbed and flowed between them, Aimee realized with a sense of dismay that she had little in common with her old friends now. Men, children, family were their main concerns; there was little about their careers. They’d listened to her talk about the big wedding she was working on and shown interest but soon the conversation drifted back to Jill’s search for the perfect relationship.
What was wrong with her? She was a high-achieving, intelligent, smart woman. She ran her own successful au pair agency, owned her own house, drove a BMW convertible and felt a complete failure because some idiot of a man had broken her heart and left her feeling inadequate and, even worse, living on her own.
Sometimes female stupidity irritated the hell out of her, Aimee thought, eating a crunchy crouton and listening to Sally advising her friend to accept the hunky referee’s invitation to dinner.
Aimee would never, ever let a man bring her down. She loved Barry, but he wasn’t the be all and end all of her life, that was for sure. Even Ellie had given up a promising career as a caterer to follow her boyfriend to Australia. Sally had been in the same job for the past three years and wasn’t the slightest bit interested in progressing. Gwen was content to live off her husband’s salary and raise her children.
Aimee knew she’d never be able to exist without her own salary. Her independence meant everything to her. Jill was the one she would have most in common with but, having heard her moaning and whingeing about her broken heart, she couldn’t help but feel a tad contemptuous. She listened to her friends swapping tips on interior decorating and her thoughts drifted. The cream, gold and crimson colours in the restaurant worked very well, she thought idly, studying her surroundings while keeping one ear on the conversation. It was a somewhat similar colour scheme to her dining room. The dramatic crimson wall behind them was a very strong focal point and contrasted extremely well with the cream and gold. The carvings were most effective and she loved the use of bamboo as a wall decoration. That was a look that worked. Something similar would be striking on her dining-room walls. She must keep an eye out for suitable wall hangings.
By the time it came to desserts and coffee she was getting impatient and more than ready to leave. She slipped a fifty-euro note under her plate, pushed away her chair and stood up. ‘Girls, it’s been great, but I’m a little pushed for time. I’ve a meeting in twenty minutes so I need to get going.’ She leaned down and gave Ellie a hug. ‘It was lovely to see you. Safe journey back to Oz tomorrow.’ She smiled at the others. ‘Thanks for the lunch invite, I’ll be talking to you.’
‘See you, Aimee, I’ll give you a call,’ Gwen said.
Sally arched an eyebrow at her. ‘I suppose it will be another year until we see you again.’
‘If you’re lucky,’ Aimee riposted. ‘See you!’ She raised her hand in farewell and strode briskly out of the restaurant. That was her girly bit done for the foreseeable future. It was a relief to get back to work and real life.
‘I suppose we were lucky that she honou
red us with her presence,’ Jill drawled sarcastically as they watched the heavy glass door close behind Aimee.
‘Ah, don’t be like that,’ Gwen said uncomfortably.
‘You always stand up for her. Sometimes she can be such a superior bitch. She looks down her nose at us. You know she does. She thinks we’re silly because we get together and have a laugh and a chat.’ The other girl’s tone was belligerent. She’d noted Aimee’s boredom when the conversation wasn’t centred on her.
‘Bet she’ll never have another bun in the oven,’ Sally remarked dryly. ‘Would interfere with her plan for world domination.’
‘Ah, stop, she’s not that bad. Aimee’s always been focused on her career. There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Gwen argued.
‘She never even sent Kim a Mass card, let alone went to the funeral. Kim was really upset about that. She never answers emails and texts. She’s just downright rude. You’re too soft, and too nice, Gwen,’ Jill retorted. Alcohol always made her aggressive.
‘She’s very busy,’ Gwen murmured.
‘We’re all very busy. But at least we keep in touch and give a helping hand when we’re in a fix,’ Jill pointed out, taking another slug of champers.
‘Buckle up . . . here we go,’ Gwen murmured to Sally as Jill continued to rant. Aimee and Jill had always had an edge between them, but it usually emerged only after drink had been taken.
‘Did she even offer to do anything for me? Did she even ask could she do anything to help? The trouble with that girl is that she’s so centred on herself we don’t even exist for her. I can guarantee you by the time she’s sitting in her car we’ll be out of her head and she won’t give us another thought until one of us gets in touch again. She won’t even ring to find out if Sally’s had the baby unless one of us tells her. Trust me. Career, career, career, that’s all that matters to her. To have a friend you have to be a friend, and I’m not going to bother my ass with her any more. Did you hear her saying to me, “You don’t need a man, you have everything you need in your life!” ’ she mimicked. ‘God, I wonder does she even ride Barry any more she’s such a cold fish? I’d like to see her if he was having an affair with someone. She mightn’t be so smug and high and mighty then.’ She burst into tears.
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