Too Good to Be True

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Too Good to Be True Page 11

by Sheila O'Flanagan


  “That’s me,” he told her. “Now make yourself useful, woman, and get some plates out of the cupboard.”

  As she sat at the table and pulled her plate towards her, Carey suddenly shivered involuntarily.

  “You OK?” asked Ben.

  “Sure.” She smiled wryly. “Someone walking over my grave.”

  He laughed and she cut one of her sausages into bite-sized pieces, but she felt as though something had darkened the morning. She really wasn’t sure what.

  “We didn’t really get the chance to chat last night,” said Ben. “And I wanted to talk to you.”

  She looked at him in frozen horror. They’d only been married for two weeks. Surely it was a bit early for him to need to talk to her?

  “What about?” she asked faintly.

  “Doing something,” he replied. “To celebrate our marriage.”

  She released her breath slowly. It was OK after all. The feeling of dread lifted. “What sort of something?”

  “A party, get-together…” He shrugged. “I’m not exactly certain.”

  “It’s a good idea,” said Carey. “People at work have been on at me to have a booze-up or something, but I’ve put them off.”

  “I was thinking of something a little more upmarket than a booze-up,” said Ben a trifle haughtily.

  Carey laughed. “Us air traffic people aren’t exactly upmarket. Certainly not as upmarket as you health-freak types.”

  “Sorry,” said Ben. “That sounded a bit naff, didn’t it?”

  “A bit.” She dipped a slice of sausage into her egg and watched as the bright yellow yolk spilled over the white and onto the cobalt-blue plate.

  “Freya has offered to do it for us,” said Ben.

  “What?” She looked up at him, the egg-coated sausage on the end of her fork.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk about,” explained Ben. “She suggested it yesterday. Said that she wanted to organize it as our wedding present.”

  “Oh.” Carey popped the sausage into her mouth and chewed it slowly.

  “I told her we’d be delighted.”

  “Did you?”

  “Aren’t we?” he asked.

  Carey put her knife and fork on the plate. “Maybe.”

  “Look, I know she hasn’t exactly fallen over herself with good wishes up till now,” said Ben, “but I can understand that. She was shocked. But now she’s had a bit of time to consider it, she realizes how happy you’ve made me and she wants to welcome you into the family.” He made a face. “Mind you, it’s only a family of two so it’s not exactly a big welcome.”

  “I haven’t even met her yet.” Suddenly Carey wasn’t hungry anymore. She pushed her plate to one side and rested her chin on her hands.

  “That was the other thing,” said Ben. “I asked her if she’d like to come to dinner tomorrow evening. I know your shifts meant it was difficult this week and she’s away in Galway today so she can’t come tonight, but we’re not doing anything tomorrow, and though I’d like to have you all to myself, I guess we can’t be alone for ever!”

  Carey bit her lip as she looked at him.

  “What’s the problem?” he asked.

  “It’s just that — well, my parents asked us over to lunch tomorrow and I said yes.” Her expression was apologetic. “They’re dying to meet you and I didn’t think you’d mind. I really don’t think we’d be up to having Freya round by the time we got home again, and I don’t want to meet her if I’m not at my best.”

  “Shit,” he said.

  “Look, I’ll try and arrange something with Freya next week,” said Carey. “She won’t mind waiting a little longer, will she?”

  “I guess not.” But Ben looked put out.

  “Tell me more about her,” said Carey. “When we talked about things in the States we only talked about ourselves. We didn’t go into much detail about our families. Go into detail now.”

  “She’s the best sister anyone could have,” said Ben warmly. “I was only seven when my dad died. She was thirteen. I was distraught, my mother was — disconnected. Freya kept me going.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “After Dad died, Mum was different. She didn’t get the same fun out of life anymore. She died of heart trouble a few years later, but, you know, I think it was more of a broken heart, Carey. She never really got over it. She went through the motions, that’s all. I probably should’ve been a wild child after Dad died, but I wasn’t. I was a quiet kind of kid. I stayed quiet. Sometimes I think that when my mother died I could’ve become someone much darker, but Freya helped again. She’d just turned twenty-one, she was working in the bank — a clerical job, nothing special. But she looked after me the whole time. I owe her. Lots.”

  “Why didn’t she get married herself?” asked Carey. “She’s a good bit older than you, isn’t she?”

  Ben shrugged. “She’ll be forty this year. I don’t know why she didn’t get married. She’s been going out with this guy, Brian, for years. I asked her once. She just said it wasn’t for her.”

  “I’m afraid she’ll resent me,” said Carey. “I felt that from her when I talked to her.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Ben said. “You only spoke to her for a couple of seconds. When you meet her, it’ll be so different. She’s a great person, Carey. Really great.”

  “Yeah.” Carey’s grimace was hidden by her cupped hands. “So what does she have planned for us?”

  “A party, I guess,” said Ben. “She’s really good at that sort of thing. Well…” He scratched the back of his head. “I’m probably better at conceptualizing it. I do it for the shops. But she’s the organizer, she gets things done. If she says we’ll have a great party, then that’s what we’ll have.”

  “I’m not sure about it, that’s all,” said Carey doubtfully. “I mean, I do like parties, of course, but I don’t like wedding palaver. Half the reason we got married in Vegas was to avoid the fuss.”

  “I thought we got married there because we couldn’t wait.”

  “That too,” said Carey hastily. “But not having a big bash was a bit of a bonus.”

  “Do you want me to tell her not to bother?” asked Ben.

  “God, no!” Carey looked horrified. “No, absolutely not. I’m sure you’re right, it’ll be great.”

  “It will. I promise.”

  “In that case I’m really looking forward to it,” she said brightly.

  “So what about tomorrow then?” asked Ben. “My induction into your family?”

  “It’ll be very informal,” Carey assured him. “Mum’s fine, Dad can be a bit crotchety but he’s good at heart. My sister and brother-in-law will be there too, plus some or all of their kids.”

  “How many kids?” asked Ben.

  “Four,” said Carey. “There’s Jeanne, who’s seventeen and, like, totally cool.” She laughed. “Then Donny, who’s sixteen and thinks all girls are sex objects. Zac is…” She frowned. “…nearly fifteen, I think. And Nadia’s twelve.”

  “And they’ll all be at lunch?” Ben sounded panicked. “I don’t think I’ve ever met that number of people from the one family before.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Carey assured him. “And they’ll love you, honestly they will.”

  He breathed out. “I hope so.”

  “Of course they will.” She got up and kissed him. “I love you, don’t I? So will they.”

  Freya Russell sat in the living room of her two-bedroomed apartment in Rathgar. People who’d never been there before were always surprised when they first stepped inside. They expected a place that reflected her character, cool and distant, and they were always astonished to find that the walls were painted in dramatic shades of purples and pinks, while her voile curtains were vivid blocks of orange and her bright green sofa was piled high with yellow sequined cushions. Brian had once told her that it was like an Eastern bazaar and Freya replied that she liked Eastern bazaars.

  In contrast to the color and warmth indoors, the bare branches
of the chestnut trees swayed and creaked outside her window. During the summer she liked to leave the balcony doors open so that she could feel the warmth of the summer breezes and hear the rustle of the leaves. But in the winter even the lightest breeze was cold and the trees looked menacing rather than soothing.

  She looked at the guest-list in front of her. The people she’d planned to invite to what she’d termed the Ben and Carey Extravaganza were mainly friends of both her brother and herself. Many of them were business friends, but she’d also remembered to include Ben’s football friends and his mate, Phil. She wished there were more people she could put in the “Family” column, which was on one side of the A4 sheet she was using, but both her mother and father had been only children. It was why, she supposed, her mother had been so devastated when her father died.

  Ben hadn’t told her much about Carey’s family so she knew she’d have to ask him who to invite. Maybe there was a clatter of them, she thought glumly, a clatter of noisy, gregarious people with whom she’d find nothing in common. She didn’t know exactly why she felt she’d have nothing in common with the Brownes, but she just sensed that they’d be a struggle to get on with. She picked up her ballpoint and wrote “Browne Family” on the paper.

  Her glance flickered over the “Friends” column again. The last name on the list was Leah Ryder’s. She chewed on the end of the Biro as she looked at it. She hadn’t seen Leah since the evening they’d met in the bar and had rather more drinks than they’d intended. Afterwards they’d gone for a Chinese meal and had spent the whole time wondering whether or not men were worth the effort. Freya had told Leah that she’d always thought Ben would be worth the effort. Her brother was a decent person, a good bloke. Except that he’d clearly lost his marbles.

  And then Leah had said that she’d always be friends with Freya because Freya was kind and understanding, and knew how she felt despite having a total shit for a brother.

  And Freya said that she didn’t know whether or not she wanted Ben’s marriage to break up, because surely her brother would be devastated if that happened — but didn’t Leah think it was almost inevitable?

  “Absolutely,” Leah murmured drunkenly. “I want to go to the celebration wedding party, though, Freya. I definitely have to go to the party.”

  In their alcohol-induced haze it seemed perfectly reasonable that Leah should come to the party. But now Freya was having doubts. She trusted Leah not to do anything stupid, but she wasn’t sure that having a new wife and an ex-lover in the same room was a good idea. Yet Leah had phoned her after their drinks together and told her that she was really looking forward to coming. It’d be good for her, she told Freya, to see Ben and his wife together. Help her to accept it. Freya had agreed, but she still wasn’t certain that it would be good for anyone.

  She sighed deeply and looked at the list again.

  “How’s it going?”

  She looked up as Brian let himself into the apartment. He’d stayed the night last night and had gone to the shops to buy the papers.

  “Not bad.” She turned her face up towards him for a kiss. “Working on the guest-list.”

  Brian peered over her shoulders and massaged them gently while she sighed with pleasure.

  “Robert Kingsley.” He groaned. “Why are you asking that bore?”

  “He does business with us,” said Freya sternly. “I know he’s investment banking’s answer to The Sandman, but I can’t leave him out.”

  “Browne family?” he asked. “How many?”

  “I don’t know,” said Freya. “I was thinking that maybe I’d ask her about them.”

  “Ask who?”

  “You know,” said Freya crossly. “Carey.”

  “You really don’t like her, do you?”

  “How can I like or dislike her when I haven’t even met the woman yet? When she couldn’t even be bothered to make an effort to see me?”

  “Aren’t you being a little unfair?” Brian stopped rubbing her shoulders and perched on the arm of the sofa. “It’s not her fault that you haven’t met. You make snap decisions about people, Freya.”

  “No I don’t,” said Freya. “I knew you for a long time before I decided you were good enough to go out with.”

  “Gosh, thanks!”

  “I’m sorry.” She looked up at him. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

  “Have you decided on a date yet?” asked Brian, looking at her guest-list again. “Because if you want me to book Oleg’s I’ll have to let them know pretty soon.”

  “As soon as I can manage,” said Freya. “Ben’s giving me her shifts so that I can have it on a night when she doesn’t have to be in work the next morning. I don’t want to be responsible for her having aircraft landing on the M50 or whatever might happen if she’s too hungover to do her job properly.”

  Brian nodded. “And before then you’ll have debriefed her about her family?”

  Freya looked at him. “Are you taking the piss?”

  “A little,” he admitted as he scanned through the list and then stabbed his finger at Leah’s name. “Have you lost your marbles? What’s she doing on the list? D’you want a riot?”

  “Why shouldn’t she come?” asked Freya. “She’s my friend too.”

  “Oh, come on.” Brian stared at her. “She’s Ben’s ex-girlfriend — the girl he’s been trying to dump for a year. You really think it’s a good idea to ask her to his wedding party?”

  “He hasn’t been trying to dump her for a year,” said Freya. “He was sleeping with her, for God’s sake. That’s not exactly the way you go about dumping someone.”

  “He might have been sleeping with her but he never loved her,” Brian said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Freya. “He was crazy about her.”

  “He was crazy about the massages,” agreed Brian. “But there wasn’t the faintest chance of him marrying her.”

  “My brother isn’t that shallow,” snapped Freya.

  “Of course not,” said Brian hastily. “But you’ve got it all wrong about him and Leah. She was good company, that’s all.”

  “How can you say that when they spent nights together?” demanded Freya.

  “So what?” Brian shrugged.

  “You’re all the same!” Freya looked at him in disgust. “Once you’re getting it you don’t give a toss about how the girl feels.”

  “Don’t be so bloody stupid —”

  “And don’t talk to me like that!” cried Freya.

  Brian threw the newspapers he’d still been holding onto the coffee-table in front of them. “You know, you can be a real pain in the arse sometimes,” he said angrily. “You just don’t have a clue.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Freya’s eyes, bright blue like her brother’s, glittered.

  “People aren’t like your business,” he told her. “Life isn’t some kind of management project. Everyone won’t do exactly what you want them to when you want them to.”

  “I’m not expecting them to,” said Freya.

  “You’re expecting that flaky girl to mingle with a wedding party for the bloke she’s obsessed over,” said Brian.

  “Leah isn’t obsessed,” Freya objected. “She was hurt, of course she was, when she heard about Ben’s marriage. She was shocked too. But like she said to me the other night, she accepts that it’s over. She’s coming for closure reasons.”

  “Freya, how thick can you get?” demanded Brian. “If the girl is that upset she should stay away. Even you can’t possibly believe that if she thought Ben was going to marry her — which I’m pretty sure was on her agenda — she’d have a good time seeing him with his new wife!”

  “I told you, she’s OK with the whole thing,” said Freya. “She’ll be fine.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re thinking of asking her.” Brian shook his head. “It’s just asking for trouble, Freya.”

  “I can’t ignore her,” said Freya obstinately. “Besides, she wants to come.”
>
  “You’ve told her about it already?” Brian looked shocked.

  “Yes. I met her for a drink and we talked. She said she’d like to come along.”

  “I bet.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” Freya looked at him angrily. “You haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. Leah’s a lovely person and she isn’t going to cause a fuss. You’re just trying to make trouble when there isn’t any.”

  “If you believe that, you believe anything,” Brian snorted.

  “Why don’t you just fuck off home and let me get on with it?” Freya bent her head over her list again.

  Brian stood in the middle of the room and looked at her. “I thought we were going to go to the movies.”

  “No,” said Freya. “I’m not in the mood now.”

  “Fine.” His voice hardened. “I’ll go, if that’s what you want.”

  “It’d be better,” she said.

  “Do you want me to call you later?”

  “No,” said Freya again. “I’ll be busy.”

  Brian banged the apartment door as he left. Freya sat and stared at the bare chestnut trees as they swayed in front of the window, then she crumpled up the guest-list and threw it into the bin.

  Chapter Eight

  BASIL

  A fortifying herb oil with a spicy, warm aroma

  Ben drove to Maude and Arthur’s in a small van emblazoned with the Herbal Matters logo.

  “I didn’t bother replacing my car when they repossessed the Saab,” he told Carey as she removed a selection of brochures on homeopathic remedies from the passenger seat before climbing in. “Anyway, this is fine for getting round the place.”

  Carey fastened the seat belt and decided that traffic looked slightly different from the vantage point of a higher seat.

  “I’ve never actually been in a van before,” she said. “Though I was once in a 747 simulator.”

  “Show-off!” But he grinned as he put the van into gear.

  Carey hoped that her family would like him. How could they not? she’d asked herself over and over again the previous night as she lay awake in bed while Ben slept beside her. But her father was such a difficult man and her mother — well, Maude would be polite, she was always polite, but she could do politeness with effervescent sincerity or with all the warmth of cut-glass crystal. As for Sylvia — Carey screwed up her nose at the thought of her sister and how she’d react to meeting her new brother-in-law.

 

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