Back After the Break

by Anita Notaro

  ‘You must be very proud of them.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘You’re lucky to have them.’

  ‘You’re right. I forget that sometimes, when I’m feeling sorry for myself.’ He grinned and she understood the screen presence for the first time. There was something about him, with his shy smile and tightly cropped blond hair and blue eyes and rugged skin.

  They chatted for ages and suddenly it was four a.m. and they were last to leave the club.

  ‘I’ll say good night,’ Lindsay said to no one in particular as they emerged into the clear, cold night air.

  ‘We’ll drop you home,’ Colin said. ‘The car’s here waiting.’

  ‘No honestly, I’m going in a different direction to all of you, I’ll grab a cab.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Honestly, look there’s a taxi rank right here.’ She pointed to the other side of the road and made her way across, waving good night to them all as they climbed in to the waiting limo. Colin ran after her. He took her two hands in his.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘For nothing.’

  ‘I enjoyed myself.’

  ‘Me too.’

  He reached over and pulled her to him and wrapped her in his arms. It was a friendly hug and she hugged him back fiercely. She was vaguely aware of a flashbulb going off but he didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Take care of yourself.’

  ‘You too.’ She hopped into a taxi and watched him rejoin his friends and minders, who were hovering anxiously in the background.

  What a nice man, she thought as the taxi sped through the empty, black streets. Being close to someone else made her feel very lonely for Chris and she wondered for the millionth time where he was.

  It was nearly three by the time Lindsay climbed into bed and she awoke to the doorbell ringing at eleven. Debbie and Tara stood there, arms full of newspapers and breakfasty things, as she tried to focus her tired eyes.

  ‘Great show. We want to hear everything.’ They pushed past her and headed for the warmth of the kitchen, Debbie already biting into a moist, flaky croissant.

  ‘What was Colin Quinn like? He looked quite ordinary really, not as handsome as in the movies,’ Debbie waffled, her mouth full.

  ‘We got you the papers.’ Tara threw them down on the kitchen table as Lindsay appeared in her dressing gown trying to secure her hair in a scrunchy.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Tara picked up one from the pile.

  ‘What?’ Debbie took a quick step towards her. ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘What is it?’ Lindsay asked. They both looked at her in amazement.

  She was still half asleep as she looked at the front page of one of the most popular newspapers. She stared and it took her a moment to take it in and even when she did see it properly she couldn’t believe her eyes.

  Under the heading ‘Learning to love again?’ were two photos of herself and Colin Quinn, one of him holding her two hands in his and the other of them hugging. The caption underneath read, ‘Actor Colin Quinn and TV producer Lindsay Davidson leaving a Dublin nightclub early this morning.’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  ‘THIS GETS MORE and more complicated.’ Debbie looked at her friend in astonishment twenty minutes later when she’d brought them up to date after they’d both laughingly insisted, ‘What’s Chris going to say?’

  She’d made herself a strong black coffee and told them the whole story. They found it hard to take it all in.

  ‘Chris saw you with Paul? You tried to explain and found him with another woman? And there’s nothing going on with you and Colin Quinn? You’d better start at the beginning.’

  For the rest of the morning they tried to work it all out, while Lindsay’s phone rang incessantly. It seemed that everyone she’d ever met had seen the picture, including her mother, who left three messages demanding an explanation and her sister, who pleaded for the real story. Finally, she couldn’t stand the ringing any longer and snatched up the receiver and snapped, ‘Hello.’ It was Paul.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone else?’

  ‘Well . . . I . . .’

  ‘It won’t last, you know. Men like him can have anyone they want. How long has it been going on?’

  ‘Well, actually—’

  ‘Don’t think I’ll be waiting. You’ve wasted enough of my time already.’ He hung up, leaving Lindsay speechless. She decided not to confuse the girls further by explaining.

  They ate their way through a bag of croissants, bagels and muffins and drank gallons of juice and coffee and tried to work it all out.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Tara kept asking, obviously upset about Chris.

  ‘I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I’d have told you eventually but I needed time. I had to learn to cope with it first myself.’

  ‘I knew there was something wrong the other night at dinner.’ Tara was upset with herself for not realizing.

  ‘I’m sorry I haven’t seen more of you this last while,’ Debbie wailed. ‘You poor thing, you’ve been through the mill and now this.’ It was almost too much for Lindsay.

  ‘Listen, I really need your help to move on with my life. It’s just that, when things went wrong with Chris, and especially after I saw him with another woman, I realized that he really was the one. Isn’t that funny, after all the stuff with Paul? But Chris was different. We had something special, I sort of felt we were soulmates. I know that sounds really stupid cause I’d only known him for such a short time. But I made up my mind, that Sunday after I called at his place, that I wasn’t going to let it destroy me and I still feel the same way. And that’s the most valuable lesson of all that I learned from Paul.’

  ‘You have to try and talk to him again,’ Tara was adamant.

  ‘Well, whatever hope there was has presumably gone out the window if he’s seen this. Jesus, I wonder what Paul will make of it as well? I hope he’s gutted.’ Debbie gave a half-laugh.

  ‘Actually, that was Paul on the phone just now and he sounded furious.’ The look on their faces was priceless.

  ‘Listen, it’s over with Chris. I don’t want to talk about him any more, OK. He said some terrible things to me and he hasn’t tried to make contact since to even ask me for answers. And he’s obviously with someone else. I have to get on with my life. Now, could you bear to watch last night’s show with me again? I really need to see it coldly and work out if there was anything I could have done better.’

  So they sat around and ate some more, Lindsay still in her PJs at three o’clock on a bright Sunday afternoon. Eventually, they fell into their normal routine and she got dressed and they headed off to Howth with Charlie, for a meander along the cliffs. They called in for hot chocolate on the way home and dropped her off at eight-thirty and she washed and went straight to bed, exhausted.

  Next morning after a late start, Lindsay dressed in black jeans and a white T-shirt and her favourite black jacket and headed into the office, to clear up and start all over again. There were several messages from newspapers wanting to talk to her. She ignored them and rang the Press Office, who agreed to fend off any calls they could. She put her phone on voice mail and set to work. As soon as she checked the ratings she relaxed a little. The figures were the best of the season so far. They’d started off well and had built steadily so that by the end of the show, for the Colin Quinn interview, they had seventy per cent of all available adults watching their programme and they were back in the top ten.

  Checking her e-mails she found a note from Jonathan Myers, offering his congratulations on the viewing figures.

  She rang Alan and he was delighted. ‘Are you OK? I, erm . . . saw the pictures yesterday.’

  ‘Yeah, it wasn’t what it seemed.’ She laughed at the irony. ‘Although I bet that’s what they all say. He invited me for dinner with his entourage. We talked. I got a taxi home. He was simply thanking me for being good to his mum and dad.’

  ‘We
ll, I hope it didn’t upset you, that’s all.’

  ‘No, I’m fine, talk to you tomorrow.’

  About one-thirty TV reception rang and an excited voice announced, ‘Colin Quinn is here to see you.’

  Lindsay was staggered. What on earth did he want? Famous actors didn’t even telephone afterwards. In fact, nobody ever really said thank you to TV shows, all felt they were the ones doing the favour, which was mostly true.

  Cursing herself for looking worse than Charlie on a bad hair day, she made her way gingerly to reception.

  ‘Hi.’ He peered out from behind the biggest bunch of flowers she’d ever seen and grinned shyly while the receptionist made whale noises in the background, trying to keep her mouth shut.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘I wanted to say thanks and sorry about the pictures and are you free for lunch?’ He thrust the flowers at her just as the doors opened and Chris walked in.

  Lindsay just couldn’t stop herself staring at him. He looked absolutely gorgeous in a dark grey, wool jacket, pale shirt and faded black jeans, carrying a soft leather overnight bag. The whale called his name, smiled and flirted and waved a package at him. He had no choice but to walk over to where they were standing to collect it. He nodded coldly in her general direction and she smelt the cool, clean, still-familiar smell of him and her stomach went plop.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Colin asked.

  ‘I’m fine and they’re gorgeous, thank you.’ She spoke in a low voice even though Chris was gone in an instant, striding off into the distance without ever really looking at her.

  ‘Lunch?’

  ‘You really don’t have to.’

  ‘I’d like to.’

  ‘OK, let me grab my bag.’

  ‘I’ll wait outside in the car.’

  Lindsay’s heart felt like lead as she joined him, even though she was really pleased to get the chance to see him again. He took her to a gorgeous little Indian restaurant and they chatted like old friends.

  ‘I should have known there’d be a photographer somewhere. It was stupid of me. I hope it didn’t cause you any problems.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Any six-foot-four guy wanting to beat me up?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He must be very understanding?’

  ‘No, I meant there isn’t anyone.’ Suddenly, she found herself telling him everything, all about Paul and then Chris and he listened and she felt better. They talked about relationships and he tried to see things from Chris’s side and he, too, felt she should try to talk to him and explain. ‘Men are very black and white, we don’t analyse things the way women do and I think sometimes we’re a bit thick. We need it spelled out for us a lot of the time.’

  He told her more about his wife and their relationship, about how he knew she was the one from the moment he met her and she envied him. They sat until five p.m. and became firm friends and she felt as if she’d known him for years, partly because of all the research bumph she’d read on him but mostly because he was open and honest and easy.

  He dropped her back at the office and she agreed to have dinner with him on Thursday night as he was flying back home on Saturday morning and he wanted to take his parents out on Friday night. She wished she could have met him under different circumstances, but maybe her lack of interest was the reason he was so relaxed with her. Anyway, after today’s outpouring he was in no doubt that she was a complete disaster where men were concerned and he certainly wasn’t looking for a new relationship, not after the way he’d spoken about his wife. It all made for an easy life, which was what she needed so badly right now. Shame about the papers though, she thought as she headed for home.

  On Tuesday there were a lot of funny looks directed her way and Alice laughingly asked her if she wanted to keep the file on Colin Quinn as a memento. Tom Watts wasn’t as subtle.

  ‘So, Lindsay, what’s the story? What’s he like in the sack?’ he asked her in a crowded Tuesday morning meeting, just as Jonathan Myers entered. Everyone stared at her and she was angry with him and furious with herself for blushing.

  ‘Fantastic, you’d better keep a tight rein on your girlfriends because one night with him and you’ll be out of the picture.’

  The office collapsed with laughter and Jonathan smiled at her sympathetically.

  They had another strong show lined up for the coming weekend with the ex-wife of a famous rock star giving her first interview in public and expected to spill a very large tin of beans. The rest of the team were also anxious to impress Jonathan and several good ideas came to the table, including one from David who wanted to have a discussion on the subject of mistresses. He had three women willing to take part, including the former mistress of a well-known politician, a woman who had secretly been with one of the country’s top businessmen for fifteen years and had recently been dumped in favour of a ‘younger model’, and another who claimed that wives had all the work and mistresses had all the fun and got the best presents at Christmas. Tom didn’t like the idea and Lindsay got the impression he felt threatened by strong women such as these. Lindsay, though, knew it could be great with a bit of strategic planning, so she pencilled it in for later in the season, promising to talk it through with Tom as soon as she’d done some work on it with David.

  On Thursday she took a taxi into town and met Colin at his hotel. They decided to eat there, where no one would bother them and once again she spent a relaxed and enjoyable evening getting to know him. They laughed a lot and he asked her for her home number and vowed to stay in touch, which she somehow doubted he’d manage, given his status and lifestyle. To her surprise he gave her his home number, asking her to keep it private and making her promise to call if she needed to talk. He even invited her to stay with him in New York for a few days, an invitation she knew she’d never take up. They’d both move on, she knew, but he was surprisingly easy to be with and he made her laugh. She felt she had found a new friend, but it was tinged with regret for another friendship that could have been so much more.

  The show went very well again that week and Jonathan telephoned her immediately afterwards and said how much he’d enjoyed it. On the Sunday morning Lindsay found herself featuring in the gossip column of one of the newspapers, where it was reported that she’d spent ‘several nights’ in the company of Ireland’s ‘most eligible bachelor’ after he’d ‘showered her with roses’ and ‘whisked her away’ from her busy job as producer of the country’s number-one TV show. They were spotted, according to the report, ‘looking lovingly into each other’s eyes’ in several of Dublin’s hottest spots. Lindsay tore it up and unplugged her home phone in order to avoid her mother again, although she couldn’t avoid the girls, who teased her gently but persistently all that day.

  Next morning, as soon as she stepped out of the shower her phone rang and she answered, wondering if something was wrong for someone to be ringing her so early.

  ‘I hear we’re in love,’ a warm voice greeted her and she was amazed to recognize Colin on the other end. She couldn’t believe he’d taken time out to ring her and once again he made her laugh and it helped a bit.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  THE HEAVY, LOW skies and short, grey days of winter gave way to a watery but promising spring and life settled into a pattern for Lindsay.

  She worked twelve hours a day, six days a week, ate badly and slept fitfully. For relaxation she walked Charlie or had a drink with the girls. She felt tired all the time and looked grey and drawn and even her mother was beginning to worry but she avoided all attempts to discuss anything with anybody.

  The girls finally cornered her one night, turning up at her home unexpectedly with a Chinese takeaway and a couple of bottles of wine.

  ‘You’ve been avoiding us.’ Debbie handed her the food and walked past her purposefully.

  ‘I have not, I saw you on Sunday.’

  ‘Yes, but we haven’t really talked in ages and we’re concerned about you. Besides, what are you doing in your dressing
gown at eight-thirty on a lovely evening like this?’ Tara wanted to know.

  ‘I’ve just had a bath and besides I was in the office at seven-thirty this morning. Anyway, I’m not feeling great.’

  ‘No wonder. You’re working too hard and playing too soft. You look awful, by the way.’

  ‘Thanks.’ They plonked the food down and Debbie poured three glasses of wine as they settled themselves on the couch and gave Charlie a few tasty morsels.

  ‘God, that food smells awful.’ Lindsay wrinkled her nose and stared at the grey mound.

  ‘It’s from your favourite takeaway, for God’s sake. What’s wrong with you? Maybe you’re pregnant or something.’ Debbie and Tara laughed at the ridiculousness of it and in a split second life changed for ever for Lindsay.

  ‘Very funny, I’ll just get us some bits ’n’ pieces.’ All colour drained from her face as she headed for the kitchen, anything to buy herself time.

  She busied herself doing nothing and tried to concentrate and remember when she’d last had a period. She couldn’t. All she could think of was the tiredness, the queasy tummy, the slightly lumpy, tender breasts – all symptoms she’d heard other women moaning about.

  Stop it, she lectured herself, don’t be a fucking idiot, you’re on the pill. It’s impossible. She sighed with relief, knowing there must be some other, logical explanation.

  ‘Hurry up, Sex and the City is just starting.’ Debbie called impatiently.

  Lindsay returned and sat down and joined in and didn’t see or hear a word or eat or drink anything.

  ‘Lindsay, what’s up? Please talk to us, we’re really worried about you,’ Tara pleaded later, in an attempt to get her talking.

  ‘Honestly, I’m OK, I promise. I’m just working too hard and trying to get over things and probably not looking after myself enough, but Alan is coming back next week and I’ll take a few days off and I’m going to start a health kick and go back to the gym. Just bear with me. OK?’