by Faith Hogan
‘Oh, God, who brought that thing in to my restaurant,’ Kevin snarled at Teddy when he arrived in the dining room after desserts had been served up. The whole restaurant burst into immediate hysterical laughter.
‘Oh, Kevin, you really are too funny,’ Anna said when the laughter had finally subsided and Kevin made his way back to the kitchen with enough praise to just about overcome being the brunt of a joke he didn’t understand.
*
It was all about the language school these days, apparently.
‘Eeeh, I weel not be paying them another cent.’ Valentina had arrived home in foul humour, one afternoon. ‘Keveen, what do you think?’ she asked, though clearly she wasn’t interested. ‘Five thousand euros, that ees what they are looking for. Poof, I tell them, they can steek their classes, my Engleeshees good enough. I’m making good enough teeps already, but not enough to pay that kind of money.’ And she clattered about the bedroom, kicking her sky-scraper heels towards the opposite wall and flopping onto the bed.
‘But, Valentina, don’t you have to attend.’ Kevin hovered at the door, as once he might have done with his mother. ‘I mean, isn’t it part of the deal that if you’re working here, you’re only meant to be supporting your classes?’ He’d heard Simo give out about it often enough. They had found a loophole. An opportunity, which for people like Reda and Simo, meant they’d milk it to the last. Somehow, his lovely Valentina had been pulled into it too, but perhaps she didn’t realise exactly what her being here meant. ‘I mean, without being a student, you can’t actually work. I’m not even so sure that you can stay in Ireland, not without the student identity papers, and if you’re not attending…’ he smiled at her, but there was no happiness in his smile, it was meant to be conciliatory. ‘Perhaps you could find a different school?’
‘No, Keveen. Don’t you see?’ She sat up on the bed, her lovely soft curls falling to her shoulders. ‘They are jealous, they see me arriving in to classes each day. I am doing well. And the teacher, he has – how you say it, he is wanting to take me to…’ she nodded towards the bed behind her. God, the way she said it, it was so throaty, so worldly, he felt himself tremor with longing for her. He tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but it was useless, so in the end he just nodded at her.
‘Well, he can’t just…’ suddenly it dawned on him what she was saying. Some letch ogling his girl, or maybe worse. ‘I’ll go in there tomorrow and talk to his boss, this is Ireland, he can’t come onto you like that. It’s not professional, it’s not…’ But of course, then he realised, it wasn’t very different to the business owner coming onto his immigrant waitress, really, was it?
‘Eet is all a mess. I am not that kind of woman.’ ‘So, you see, Keveen, if you are serious about me, there really is only one thing for us to do.’
‘Oh,’ he said stupidly. He’d completely lost track of the conversation. Was he giving her the five thousand euros or finding her a different language class? He definitely didn’t fancy forking out five grand. Already, his new life with Valentina was costing him a fortune, and it wasn’t just the flat. It was everything about how Valentina thought they should be living. ‘Well, I’m not paying out any more money to a swindler like that guy,’ he said, warming to the feeling of standing up to some bully who’d tried to have his way with his girlfriend.
‘So…’
‘Well, if there’s another option…’ Surely there was some way round paying what amounted to extortion.
‘I’ve just said, there’s another option, Keveen, I thought you were listening to me,’ she cast her beautiful dark eyes towards the ceiling.
‘Of course I was, Valentina,’ he moved towards her, wondered if she was feeling as energetic as he was. ‘Let’s go for it,’ he said, sitting beside her on the bed.
‘Really?’ She threw her arms about him and he wondered briefly what he’d agreed to, assuming it was a different language school.
Whatever it was, it was well worth it. He’d never experienced such enthusiastic lovemaking in his life. If this is what talking big did for you, Kevin decided, he should have started a long time ago.
The next few days seemed to float by. They were easy, loving days with Valentina bringing him breakfast in bed – cremated toast and coffee from the shop downstairs. Kevin told himself it was the thought that counted. He sipped the coffee and tried not to think of the stiff prices the Colombian called John Paul charged for a little banter and the intensely aromatic coffee that made Kevin feel light-headed for hours after he drank it. When Valentina was like this, it seemed to Kevin he was as happy as he could be. Her fiery temper quelled, she was content to lounge about the apartment in the expensive silky underwear she seemed so fond of buying. At the restaurant, there was a new confidence to her. Andrew grumbled, but he brushed along with her on nights when they had to work together. Only the arrival of Carrie seemed to thwart her growing self-assurance.
Valentina no longer attended the language school, instead she regaled him with the story of how she told the tutor where he could stick his classes. It took almost a week before Kevin connected this buoyant mood with the conversation about the language class. Valentina spelled out what it meant not just for him, but for Carrie too, and Kevin knew that whether he had planned it or not, his bed was well and truly made now.
Eleven
He was a little bit sorry about Carrie. He supposed that it probably had hurt, the way Valentina had just blurted it out. At the time, he hadn’t really thought about it. The announcement had been like a bolt of lightning, hitting him somewhere in his conscious mind, but afterwards, he wondered if it had sliced through his shoulder blades. It was vicious, but he wasn’t sure which of them it had been aimed at. He had upset Valentina earlier that day, it was silly really. A pair of shoes – but they cost almost a thousand euros. He didn’t even know what they looked like, but he had the evidence on his credit card.
‘How in God’s name can you spend a thousand euros on a pair of shoes?’ It was too much, Valentina had to know that. He couldn’t sustain that level of spending. He took his credit card, cut it in half. ‘I’m cancelling it, at the bank, just so you know.’ He’d been tempted to just cancel it. Let her come home red-faced from having it refused, but the truth was, he was afraid. Valentina was a passionate woman. With her passion came a certain volatility, which on the one hand made him giddy with a deep longing and admiration – he’d never be able to muster the kind of strength that she had. Unfortunately, it also brought out his more cowardly nature. He would not cross Valentina when she was in a fit of temper. He saw her reach for one of the large kitchen knives and make ribbons of a scatter cushion that tripped her up one morning. Still, he knew, in spite of her temper, he would not trade her. Having a beautiful woman like Valentina on his arm made him feel as if he was somehow a bit better than the next man.
Maybe that was why he was looking forward to Ben and Melissa’s wedding. Yes, he was a little nervous – he knew that, mostly, their friends would take Carrie’s side. They would think he’d been a cad, but he wanted them to see. He wanted them to know that Kevin Mulvey could do better. Ben had rung him last week.
‘I don’t expect it, mate, being best man, it’s a lot to ask. You know, people may not be very…’ He was letting him step down, he could ask Jim to be best man, but Melissa was set on having Carrie.
*
‘How can you be getting married?’ Carrie heard herself say, then she clamped her hand before her lips. Kevin had to know, even with his limited well of understanding the emotions of others, that this was a cataclysmic blow. Then she saw something in his expression, his wordlessness, his posture – this was not planned.
Carrie knew, instinctively; he was as stunned as she was. Stunned, that was the only word she could use. Not the word most people would want to describe their forthcoming marriage or plans to embark on a long and happy life together. Shock. It registered in his eyes and it knocked Carrie’s heart so it felt like a beat deep within her was misse
d and its irregularity would forever more mark the passing of something momentous in her life. She had to breathe. She just had to stand there, in her lovely restaurant and breathe; for now, that was all she could do.
It was absurd, really; here they were, the three of them, standing over Kevin’s Christmas dessert menu. Carrie thought her biggest challenge today would be facing down the mint and orange truffles. She would do well not to succumb to the charms of Kevin’s treacle pudding. She’d lost weight. Carrie didn’t know in ounces and pounds, she wasn’t exactly a devotee of the weighing scales, but her clothes were very loose. She felt quite proud, knowing that the last few weeks, she could have gone either way. Under the circumstances, she told herself, the heartbreak diet, well, it was the first diet she’d ever stuck to – actually the first she’d ever tried or perhaps more accurately, that she’d had thrust upon her. However much she’d like to tuck into a slice of chocolate fudge cake, news of Kevin’s impending nuptials managed to completely wipe out her appetite.
‘Yes, we are getting married and we weell have lovely babies,’ Valentina leant in close to Kevin and he had the good grace to at least look uncomfortable. ‘Eetees, in the end, what everyone wants.’ It felt like her eyes cut daggers in Carrie’s soul and later she’d wonder how she managed to stay so calm.
‘Oh, I see,’ Carrie managed as bravely as she could, but she wanted to run away and cry. How could they both be so cruel?
‘I, we…’ Kevin hadn’t the words. He’d never had them for Carrie either. They never spoke about marriage. In the early days, Carrie assumed it was one of those things they’d get around to. There was a time – going to her friends’ weddings every other weekend for two or three summers running – that she’d wished for more. Then that voice that she’d cultivated many years earlier spoke sternly to her of priorities and what Kevin wanted and perhaps the fear of rocking the boat so much it would send him scuttling back to his mother. God, but she’d been a terrible fool. She watched him now, his mouth open, the words hanging somewhere on the air between them, but this time she stopped herself from making it easy for him.
‘Yes?’ she said and if her heart wasn’t breaking again, she might have relished his utter discomfort. She stood, watching him squirm, waiting. He looked tragic, his shoulders slumped in resignation, hardly the vision of a freshly engaged fella – that observation settled on Carrie somewhere and she knew she could examine it later, but for now she had to remain poised.
‘Well, now it’s not exactly…’ he looked at Valentina who raised an eyebrow, and in that moment, something clicked. Valentina was like Maureen. He was marrying his mother – was this what he always wanted? Maureen Mulvey was a bully. She had bullied her son, her daughter and probably her husband. Carrie knew it was unkind to think it, but many times she felt she understood why Kevin’s father had an affair that lasted twenty-odd years. She could see too, if he was like Kevin, how he never had the gumption to leave her. Spineless, both of them – in the end, perhaps they would all end up with precisely what they deserved.
‘Oh, well, I suppose, all that’s left now is to wish you both well,’ Carrie said, keeping her voice as steady and even as possible. She cut him off, she didn’t need to hear any more. She would not give either of them the satisfaction of seeing her upset. She looked at the desserts before her; her sweet tooth abandoned her. ‘Honestly, Kevin,’ she cast a hand over the beautifully presented desserts, ‘they’re grand. Perhaps a little last year, but they’ll be fine.’
She walked off towards the restaurant; her legs felt frail, as if her whole body suddenly turned to a substance too heavy to carry. She needed to get away from Kevin and Valentina for now. Perhaps it would get easier with a little time.
In the kitchen, she imagined Kevin and Valentina whispering and perhaps giggling at the bombshell they had just exploded. Perhaps they didn’t talk or think about her at all, probably Kevin didn’t much at least. Valentina though, she was the kind of woman whose pleasures in life increased in correlation to the depths of misery of those around her. Had she always known this of Valentina? No, she’d just hired her because she was bright, pretty and Carrie had a gut feeling that she’d be charming with the customers. Well, she was right on all three fronts. Carrie hadn’t banked on her setting her hat at Kevin. He was, after all, just Kevin, probably the most boring man in Ireland – that was the moniker Anna gave him all those years ago. She’d started using it again now. Anna was right, Kevin could be the most boring man in Ireland, but he had been Carrie’s and she had loved him. Now, with Valentina it seemed like he was anything but boring. He was living in one of the swankiest buildings in Dublin and hanging about with the fast set. Carrie wondered what on earth Kevin would have to say to those people.
Carrie took another deep breath and Luke Gibson came to mind. It was funny, she had a feeling he would calm her. He had a sense of peace about him, he was easy to get along with, but then she nudged herself back to reality. There was so much about Luke that she didn’t know. Self-preservation, that’s what she had to think about now. Luke Gibson was the kind of man that could make you lose yourself completely if you let it happen, this much Carrie was certain of. Kevin and Valentina had hurt her, but she was fine. She still had her mother, friends, a home and an income. She had her blog. It was coming along nicely. She had posted her seventh review earlier. Her sixth was published all over the place. After it, one of the daily papers contacted her; they wanted to meet her. Adrienne, a busy-sounding woman whose voice lilted with a sense of fun that was beyond her control for professional phone calls wanted to buy her lunch. She would think about that tonight. She would think about the fact that she had things to look forward to.
At that, the kitchen door swung open and Valentina breezed through it. Although her generous red lips smiled to reveal a glimpse of the whitest teeth, Carrie caught something in her expression that made her stop. She thought of those missing tips again, they still hadn’t got to the bottom of that mystery. Carrie had a feeling there was a nasty side to Valentina and, perhaps, she was exactly what Kevin Mulvey deserved.
*
A million things flooded Luke’s brain, and yet, as he tossed and turned in bed, he wasn’t sure which of them to blame for his wakefulness. It was no good. He swung his legs out of the bed, planted his feet on the floor, he would go for a walk, otherwise he would end up lying here until breakfast time. There was a time he would blame his restlessness on his upbringing, but he had a feeling that particular kind of restlessness had grown still. Tonight, it was more like a niggling feeling, as though there was something he needed to check.
He took his key from the door and dropped it in his pocket, making his way down the street steps two at a time. His feet brought him towards The Marchant Inn. Finch Street held the eerie silence of a tomb. Apart from Jane, tucked in bed over the pub, all of the buildings along here were deserted at this time. There was something about it. There was a feeling of desolation that went beyond the stillness; it was an echoing loneliness that stretched into infinite isolation.
He walked halfway along the street, stood outside The Sea Pear. It, like everywhere else, was locked up for the night. He thought about Carrie and her partner Kevin, there was something very odd going on there all right. Then he shrugged, what did he know?
Overhead, the night sky was a funnel of grey clouds, racing against the full moon. He wasn’t sure how long he stood in that spot, thinking of his father first and then Carrie. When Jane wandered into his thoughts, his eyes drifted across to The Marchant Inn. Even here, in the darkness, he knew, there was an unmistakeable freshness after all the work he’d done on the place for her. He still wasn’t sure why he’d taken it on. He shrugged when Carrie asked him, mumbled something about having time on his hands and needing something to do, but it was more than that. It was the historian in him, he knew, there was a story to uncover in that place. It was there as surely as one of those civilisations he’d worked on in Greece or Bolivia. It was deep in the fabric of
the place and he had a feeling that it resonated with him for a reason. Even now, something about the place was pulling him nearer.
He looked up to the first-floor window; saw the frail outline of Jane watching him from the upstairs rooms. In all of the days he’d spent in the bar, he’d never gone upstairs. It seemed like too much of an intrusion and, anyway, everything he needed had been at his fingertips in the bar or the yard. He watched her now, wondered if he should wave up at her, perhaps him even being here scared her more. He felt in his pocket, if he had his mobile on him he would ring her, tell her not to worry, it was only him, out for a late-night walk, but he’d left it at the B&B. So, instead of waving, he pulled his collar tighter about his neck and made his way back to his bed, with an uneven feeling hanging about his shoulders. It seemed he hadn’t made things any better for Jane Marchant, he had a feeling she was still checking the locks at all hours of the night.
Surely, he thought to himself, there must be some way of making things better for her.
*
Kevin’s father had just settled, he’d always felt that. Tim Mulvey had settled for Maureen although he knew there was more out there. Penny told him that Tim had known Thelma Jones long before he met their mother, but it was Maureen he married. Well, Kevin wasn’t settling. Carrie was the first girl he ever dated, not that he’d tell Jim that.
‘Well, good for you,’ Jim said when Kevin shared the new of him getting engaged, but his voice held a funny mixture of amusement and derision.
‘You don’t sound surprised?’ Kevin managed.
‘No, I suppose I’m not really. From what you’ve said about her, I suppose Valentina is just that kind of girl…’
‘The kind I don’t want to let slip through my fingers?’
‘I suppose.’ Jim ordered a second pint.