Alberta Clipper

by Lambert, Sheena

  “Nice,” said Mark, more out of politeness than anything else.

  “Isn't it?” Burt drooled. “C'mon Marky, let's see if we can't lose some of those euros of yours.”

  An hour later, Mark really was ready to leave. But just as he had decided to hand his chips over to Burt and slip away, he felt a presence at his shoulder.

  “Need a lucky charm?” Deanna was staring straight into his eyes. Even at one thirty in the morning, Mark could tell that she was cold sober, not someone who had been quaffing glasses of champagne since eight. He wondered how many glasses had been paid for, only to be poured down the sink.

  “Eh, no I'm just leaving actually.” He shook his head at the croupier who was discreetly questioning if he was in or out. “Time for bed,” he said as he hopped down from his stool.

  “Great idea.” Deanna kept eye contact. Mark laughed, but then realised she was serious.

  “No, I -” He stopped. He looked around him. No sign of Burt at any of the tables. Deanna was gently running a fingernail up and down his shirt over his stomach, her eyes following her finger as it scraped over his belt buckle and then from her shoulder down the tiny strap of her dress to her inflated bosom.

  “I have a room.” She seemed encouraged by his silence. Mark looked at her. She was beautiful, in a fake sort of way. He was unattached. What was to stop him? But a memory of another night flashed in his head. He didn't want to sleep with this girl. It was only a week ago that he had stood in a bar not unlike this one, looking at a blonde that he did want to sleep with. He picked up his chips, throwing one over to the croupier like he's seen done on the TV.

  “No thanks, Deanna.” Mark didn't feel the need to let her down gently. He left the room through the double doors without looking back.

  He collected his jacket, and walked out into the cool Chicago night air. It felt like a cleansing balm after the seduction of the club. Christ, what a place. You could forget yourself in a place like that, in every sense. Mark was just glad he had made it out with his no-hooker policy intact. He hadn't even had a no-hooker policy before tonight, but he certainly did now.

  As he walked along, he thought about Jennifer. He had been waiting for a terrible feeling of loss to come. He had expected that he would have been on a flight to Edinburgh within two weeks, begging her to come home to him. But the reality was that he didn't want her back. He did miss her, but what he missed was her companionship, her friendship. Not her life. He didn't yearn for her like he had expected he would. He didn't yearn for what Jennifer could give him, and he didn't yearn for what Deanna could give him. Walking along, he thought about London. About the Dorchester. He replayed parts of the evening in his head, as he had done repeatedly over the past week. What Mark yearned for, what he really yearned for, he just simply couldn't have.

  Eleven“C’mon. Spill. Tell me some news.” Nina flopped down into the booth and lifted the strap of her bag from her shoulder. “I have one hour before I have to collect the kids from Shay’s mother. I need some adult information. Make it x-rated if you have to. Just give me something.”

  “Stay-at-home-mummy gig not working out for you today?” Christine grinned sympathetically at Nina.

  “More like staid-at-home Mummy. If I have to make one more car out of plasticine, I will just leave. I've had enough. I just dumped the two of them on their Granny’s doorstep and rang the bell. I hope she was in.”

  “Nina!”

  “Okay, okay, she answered the door. But I literally have sixty, nope, fifty-five minutes before I have to go and get them and then collect Gerard from camp. I thought Shay would have been free to meet me. Typical.”

  “I am gratified to be your second choice of lunch partner. Really.” Christine smiled.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Nina unfolded her napkin. “Share a glass of wine with me? C’mon. One chardonnay.” She nodded to the waitress who had been setting their table as they sat.

  “Nina! I’m working!”

  “Oh, go on. I’m sleeping with the boss. I’ll make sure you don’t get into trouble.”

  “Strictly speaking, Mark is my boss, not Shay. Any sway there?”

  “Well I don’t. I would have thought you’d be the one with the pull there.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Are you serious?” Nina studied Christine’s face. “Do you really not see that he likes you?”

  “What?” Christine half expected Nina to start laughing, but it seemed she was serious.

  “Chris, I have been of the opinion for some time now,” Nina spoke slowly, “that Mark, likes you.”

  The waitress arrived with a glass of wine and sparkling water. Nina divided them between two empty water glasses as Christine sat looking at her in silence. Mark Harrington. Mark Harrington her boss. She cast her mind back to her birthday evening in London. Sure, she'd had a great time. If honest, she could recall a distinct frisson as they shared a cab back to the hotel from the Dorchester. But she was fairly sure that was more to do with Gavan's texts than Mark's conversation. Had they kissed goodnight? Had he been acting weird? She couldn't remember. But no. Nina was delusional. Mark had no particular interest in her. Anyway -

  “He's practically married.”

  Nina shook her head. “Over.” She sipped her drink with the look of someone with a juicy secret to share. “She's moved to Scotland.”

  This was news. Why hadn't Mark mentioned that in London? She tried to remember what they had talked about, but all she could remember for sure was that she had tried to steer the conversation away from relationships herself. Maybe he had been doing the same thing, and she just hadn't noticed. She had just been glad that he hadn't asked about hers. Maybe he had felt the same. “Really?” she said, and took a drink of the wine without thinking.

  “Very recently. Only in the past few weeks.”

  “Wow.” Christine felt sympathy for Mark. “They've been together a long time.”

  “Same as me and Shay.”

  “Wow.” The waitress came and took their order.

  “Anyway. It's just an observation. Maybe I'm completely wrong.”

  “You are,” Christine laughed.

  “Shay thinks it too.”

  “What?” Christine was horrified. “You're joking.”

  “I'm not.”

  Christine took a large gulp from her glass. “Well, you're both wrong. He has never done anything to make me think -” She stopped mid-sentence.

  “What?” Nina said. “What were you going to say?”

  “Oh nothing.” Definitely nothing about the Dorchester. Christine jumped at the chance to change the subject. “Anyway, how is Shay? After all that's happened with Mick and Craig. Is he okay?”

  Nina sat upright on her seat. “I could kill Craig. Little bastard. I know he's your friend, Chris, but he is a little shit. After all Shay had done for him. He mentored him. He's been good to him since the day he started at CarltonWachs.” She sat back deflated. Christine was a little taken aback at her friend's anger. “He's an ungrateful sod. Although it was almost worth it to see the back of Mick. I worked with him when I started at CarltonWachs, you know? He was a letchy ogre then and he's a letchy ogre now. He got what he deserved.”

  “And how is Shay?” Christine smiled at Nina.

  “Sorry. He's fine. He didn't get into much trouble over it really. But he could have, you know? And Chicago is always going to remember that this happened on his watch. It's not exactly a gold star for him.”

  “I know. He's back in next Monday, you know. Craig.”

  “Yeah. Well. Put it this way. I won't be looking to invite him for lunch the next time I'm escaping from my domestic bliss. Anyway, stop trying to change the subject. We were discussing Mark.”

  “I'm not! It's just,” Christine straightened her cutlery, “I'm sort of seeing someone.”

  “Really?”

  “Don't look so shocked. He's a friend of Emily's new man. It's only been a month, but he's…”

  “He's?”
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  “Well, he's nice.

  “Oh, I'm so glad I asked you out for lunch. This is exactly the type of news I needed,” Nina laughed. “To be honest, I was starting to wonder if maybe you just preferred girls.”

  “Nina! Shut up.”

  “I'm joking. But you know, I've known you over a year and a half, Chris, and you've never been on a serious date as far as I can remember. Am I right?”

  Christine twisted her napkin in her hands. “You are.”

  “So,” Nina said gently. “What makes this guy so special? What's his name anyway?”

  “Gavan.”

  “Gavan. So what's so great about Gavan? What does he do?”

  “He's in computers.”

  “Computers. Good. And his family? Are they of good stock?”

  Christine laughed. “Fabulous stock. Wexford stock.”

  “Wexford. Marvellous. And when will I get to meet this Gavan? Have you introduced him to your Dad yet?”

  “Dear God, no.” Christine looked shocked. “Although, maybe we could double date. Me and Gavan, and Dad and Grace. Wouldn't my sister just love that.”

  “Let's not get ahead of ourselves, honey. You had better get to know him properly yourself before you introduce him to the rest of the Grogans. Have you been to his place yet?”

  “No.” Christine waited as their food was placed on the table before them. “But he's stayed over at mine.”

  “What?” Nina almost spat her sandwich out in shock.

  “A couple of times.” Christine was enjoying this.

  Nina swallowed. “You go girl,” she breathed. “This sounds serious. I'll have to get Shay to plan some impromptu office night out so I can get to meet him.”

  “No way.” This time it was Christine who spoke with her mouth full. “I'm not parading him in front of CarltonWachs. Not a chance.”

  “Hmm,” Nina pondered as she chewed. “You're probably right. I'll just have to have you both over. For dinner.” She looked like she was having a lightbulb moment, and Christine started to get worried. “A dinner party! This calls for a dinner party.”

  Christine tried to look enthusiastic. Nina's dinner parties were legendary. She had been to a couple of them. The food was always amazing, and the night usually ended with dancing in the kitchen. “Maybe,” she nodded.

  Nina seemed to notice her reticence. “Or you could just come over for dinner. Just the two of you. Without the party bit.”

  Christine thought about it. Shay would like Gavan. It could be a fun night. “That would be great, thanks. But not yet. Maybe in a few weeks. It's very early days.”

  “Sure of course. Well, you give me the nod, and I'll organise it.” Nina smiled. Two girls from the CarltonWachs reception desk came in, and when they saw Nina and Christine, they stopped at their table for a chat. After they left, Nina checked her watch. “I'll have to scoot. I can't be late for Gerard.” She swallowed back the last of her wine. “So, any plans for tonight? Anything more exciting than bathing three children and chasing them around the house until they get into bed, before crashing in front of the TV that is?”

  “Actually, I'm going over to my Dad's this evening. It's my Mum's anniversary today.”

  “Oh Chris, I'm sorry.” Nina reached across the table and squeezed Christine’s wrist. “That's not easy. How many years is it now?”

  “Five today.” Christine couldn't believe it herself. Some days, it felt like they had just buried her. Some days, it felt like two lifetimes ago. Other times, she could hardly remember it happening at all.

  “Wow.” Nina eyed her with a worried look. “How's your Dad? Today, I mean.”

  “Oh, he's okay. But we promised to skype Aggie later.” She laughed unconvincingly. “That should be fun.”

  “I'm sure.” Nina checked her watch again. “Look, I'm sorry honey. I really have to go. Shay's mother has bridge this afternoon, and if I don't collect the kids on time, she's liable to bring them with her. And I can't have them hanging with gin-swilling wrinklies at two in the afternoon. That just wouldn't look good.”

  “No problem,” Christine laughed. “You run. I've got to go too. Although maybe I should put your theory to the test and wander in late smelling of booze and see if I get any special treatment from Mark.”

  “Well,” Nina stood up from her squashy seat with some difficulty. “All I'm saying is he looks very much like someone who would just love to give you some special treatment. But hey, you don't need it now. You have bootie-call Gav on tap.”

  Christine threw her a dirty look as she stood to leave.

  “Listen girl, I'm just jealous. I'd love to have all the men baying at the moon on my behalf. All I have is poor old Shay.”

  “As if you'd have it any other way,” Christine said, and Nina winked at her.

  ~

  Usually, Wednesday evenings at Matt's meant eating dinner in the sitting room watching cookery programmes on the television. As she reversed into the driveway, she hoped this would be like any other Wednesday. When she had spoken to him on the phone that morning, he had sounded okay. But she lived in fear of one day calling over to him and finding him in foetal position on the floor with delayed grief. Not that he hadn't cried when her mother had died. But she suspected he had gone to extraordinary lengths to keep himself together for his daughters. She worried even now, five years later, that he might one day just lose it. She always worried more on anniversaries and birthdays.

  Matt met her in the hallway. He seemed fine. They hugged hard, which was not an everyday occurrence, but other than that, there were no signs of the utter shock that had pervaded the rooms of the house five years ago that very day.

  “Dad.”

  “Well Chris. You okay? Did you have a good day at work?”

  “Yeah, fine. What did you do? Were you at the grave?”

  “I was, I was. Your Auntie Kathleen came with me. We went to mass at ten, and went up to the cemetery then.”

  “Okay. Good.” Christine felt a small stab of guilt. She should have gone to mass with her father. Her mother would have wanted her to. But then she knew her mother would have wanted her to want to go to mass, and she honestly didn't. “I'm sorry, Dad. I should have gone with you.”

  “Not at all, not at all.” He seemed to understand. “Anyway, it was nice to see Kathleen. We went for lunch into town.”

  More guilt. She should have brought him out for lunch today. Was she so wrapped up in her own grief that she didn't consider anyone else's?

  Her father seemed to sense her distress. “Christine, you had to work today. I was fine. And it was good to catch up with Kathleen. And,” they had gravitated towards the kitchen, where he bustled with the oven and took plates from the cupboard, “it was nice to have a few hours by myself in the afternoon. I walked the Great South Wall.”

  Christine knew that was where her parents had often gone in their courting days. The thought of her father walking there alone made her sad.

  He turned to her. “C'mon now. Chin up. I've a lovely goulash ready to go here. Let's take it inside. There's a fish programme starting in ten minutes.”

  “Yeah?” She swallowed hard on the lump constricting her throat.

  “I was thinking about taking a fish cookery course next. It's difficult you know, fish. There's one starting in October.”

  Part of Christine was glad that her father was nattering on like this, trying to make the day as normal as possible. Hadn't she spent her own day trying to do the very same thing? But this room was too full of her mother, even now. She wanted to just sit down at the kitchen table and weep. Just as she had many times before, when her Mum would have sat next to her, stroking her back or her hair, listening to her teenage tales of heartbreak, or exam worries, or whatever particular growing-up pain was afflicting her at the time. She even remembered one evening when her mother had sat between her two sobbing daughters, simultaneously caressing their woes away. Christine couldn't remember now what had been bothering them both. But she knew tha
t if she sat down to weep now, there would be no one there to lovingly rub her pain away. She stared at the empty place at which her mother used to sit.

  “Chris.”

  It seemed so lifeless now. So quiet. Devoid even of ghosts. What once had been a throne, was now just an empty chair.

  “Chris? Please take this and come into the sitting room.”

  She looked up at her father who had the countenance of an army sergeant when required, honed by years of teaching teenagers. He was holding out a tray with a plateful of food and a glass of water on it.

  “Take this,” he said more gently.

  She took the tray with a forced smile, tearing herself away from her memory. “What time are we supposed to call Aggie?”

  Her father looked at his watch. “Not til after ten. Or as late as we can leave it. She said she'd be up early, that she didn't mind. But we'll leave it as late as we can, yeah?”

  “Great.” She brought her tray into the sitting room, resolving to really listen to Aggie when she called. She would be very homesick. She would need her sister. And Christine would be there for her.

  ~

  The skype call didn't turn out quite as Christine had predicted. A very red and puffy-eyed Aggie had called them just after ten. They had chatted for a few minutes as Jamie loitered in the background. He sat briefly to say his hellos to them both. His demeanour seemed very serious. Christine guessed he was mindful of the anniversary of this woman that meant so much to the three of them, but that he himself had only met once or twice. Matt and himself talked about Matt's proposed trip over, and Jamie promised to look into flights for his father-in-law. After a few minutes, he made his excuses, and left his wife seated at the computer, squeezing her shoulder as he left.