Something from Tiffany’s

by Melissa Hill

  Gary and Sean had been close buddies for over thirty years. They’d grown up together in the same area of Dublin and had always shared a fascination for things that went fast, from home-made go-carts to BMX bicycles, then eventually street bikes. Somewhere along the line between those came fast girls and then fast women. While Rachel didn’t exactly fit the ‘fast’ category, she’d certainly been lusty and spontaneous enough to catch Gary’s eye and, more importantly, meet the approval of his mates.

  He stood up, wiped his hands on a greasy rag and tossed it onto the workbench. ‘Throw me another one of those,’ he said to Sean, who reached into a half-empty twelve pack of Heineken and obliged. ‘Well,’ he said, as it opened with a loud hiss, ‘in fairness, marriage is never a win-win, but if I have to take the plunge I suppose the odds are in my favour this time.’

  ‘Yeah, well, just as long as it doesn’t change you,’ Sean said dismissively, waving the can in his hand. ‘Although at least Rachel never tries to come between you and your mates. Hell, she even keeps the brew flowing every weekend after the rides. How many birds would give us the thumbs-up on that?’

  ‘Cheers,’ Gary said, not entirely comfortable with this line of conversation – about marriage and being changed and all that. He’d just wanted to hear Sean’s take on what he should do about the ring if it all went south with Rachel. ‘One more thing: you can’t breathe a word of this. As far as the rest of the lads are concerned, I bought the ring and I proposed. I got it under control. OK?’

  ‘Say no more. You have my word,’ Sean said solemnly.

  Gary laughed. ‘I’d better! All right, throw us over your bike now. Mine’s good to go.’ It was almost an unspoken pact between them to meet at Sean’s house on Sundays after their Saturday rides, to keep their bikes in tip-top shape. Because of his injuries, Gary wasn’t up to riding just yet, but today was a good excuse to catch up with his friend.

  ‘And speaking of coming up trumps, I suppose you’ll have a big payout coming soon – from the cab crowd, I mean,’ Sean said.

  Gary frowned. He hadn’t thought of that. Sean saw the hesitation in his face and laughed. ‘You do know you can take that crowd to the cleaners, don’t you? I tell you, Gary, you’d be stupid not to. They’ll expect that kind of thing. Sure, aren’t the Yanks themselves always suing one another left, right and centre?’

  Gary thought about it. Sean was right. The cab company were probably waiting for a summons to come through the post, and here he was sitting around like an eejit and doing nothing about it.

  ‘You know, you could be on to something there.’

  Sean shrugged. ‘You’d be mad to let it go. From what you told me, it’s all cut and dried.’

  That was true, Gary agreed. There he was in the middle of Manhattan, minding his own business, when this gobshite comes out of nowhere and mows him down. Of course he should get recompense for that. And for all the money he’d had to pay out for the hospital bills too, although to be fair, his health insurance had covered a lot of that. But thinking about it now, wouldn’t the cab companies have insurance for that kind of thing? So, really, Gary would be very stupid not to at least enquire about it.

  ‘You’re right.’ He’d phone a solicitor first thing in the new year. In these troubled economic times nobody could afford to let opportunities like that go astray. And wasn’t he entitled to it, after all? As it was he was still suffering, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the boys were willing to wait for him, he’d be missing the New Year’s bike ride. In fairness, he’d been forced to postpone one building job because of the hospital stay, and who knew how many others his injuries would put a stop to?

  Not to mention that a few quid would come in handy right now. Actually, it might very well be the answer to one or two of his more pressing problems. Sean didn’t know the half of it.

  ‘Listen, thanks a mill again for holding off on the big ride until I’m up for it,’ he said to Sean. ‘These bloody ribs will take a while.’

  ‘No problem. Sure, we’ll do it as a team, same as always,’ Sean assured him. ‘The rest of the lads are fine about it. They’re all on for the party too.’

  ‘The party . . . yeah,’ Gary replied, grabbing a fresh cloth while Sean applied the engine cleaner. On the way back from New York, Rachel had come up with the bright idea of throwing a big do to celebrate their engagement.

  ‘We could do it at the bistro on New Year’s Eve – when everything’s already set up for a party,’ she’d gushed, her mind already racing with the possibilities, and Gary could do nothing else but agree.

  ‘One thing I am learning about all this engagement stuff,’ he grinned, ‘is that there’s lots of booze and partying leading up to the main event. Can’t baulk at that, I suppose.’

  ‘Too right,’ Sean agreed, taking one last swig and tossing his empty can across the garage and into the recycle bin. ‘I’ll make sure you have the stag night to end all stag nights too. Rachel didn’t waste any time pulling this one together, did she? A New Year’s Eve engagement party.’ He pulled his towel back and gave it a stinging flick that landed on Gary’s arm. ‘Very fancy.’

  ‘Dickhead – you’ll regret that when I’m back in fighting form,’ Gary said, grabbing another beer from the box and tossing it to Sean.

  ‘Sure, are you ever any other way?’ his mate replied with a wink.

  ‘Wait a second,’ Brian said, pausing to take a sip from his wine glass and then setting it on the bar. He looked at Ethan in disbelief. ‘You bought a two-carat rock for Vanessa?’

  Ethan looked at his friend, wondering why he sounded so surprised. ‘Yes, it’s been on the cards for a while. I thought you knew that.’

  ‘Well, yes, I knew you two were close but I didn’t think it was that serious, actually . . . But, more to the point, then you went and lost the bloody thing?’

  ‘In a word, yes,’ Ethan replied. ‘And thank you for summing it up in a way that makes me sound like an absolute pillock. I know I can always count on you for that,’ he added, raising his own glass for a toast, which Brian gladly accommodated.

  The two men had met years before at the university in which they both taught, and well before Brian had become the successful novelist that Ethan hoped to one day be too.

  ‘Glad I can bring some consistency to your life,’ Brian replied, finishing off the last of his Montrachet with one swig. He motioned to the barman. ‘Another, please.’

  Ethan shook his head. ‘I thought we agreed to meet for a glass, not three.’

  ‘No such thing as one glass – what’s the point?’ Brian retorted. ‘Besides, you haven’t me told me how Vanessa reacted when you told her what happened.’

  ‘I didn’t tell her what happened. How could I?’ Ethan looked away and finished his own glass. Without thinking he raised his hand to his mouth to chew on his nail.

  ‘So you haven’t proposed yet?’ asked Brian.

  ‘No. As I said, how could I? What woman wants a proposal that ends in the man telling her he’s lost the ring?’

  Brian was silent for a moment before he spoke again. ‘I just can’t believe it.’ He shook his head.

  ‘I know I wouldn’t have let that bag out of my sight for a second, let alone drop it on the street to help some stranger. You’re way too nice for your own good sometimes, my man.’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing,’ Ethan replied, explaining that the bag had actually been in Daisy’s care. ‘She’s blaming herself, of course. But I’ve tried to reassure her that it wasn’t her fault. It’s not as though the bags got mixed up intentionally.’

  Brian looked sideways at him. ‘I take it she knew about the planned big Christmas proposal, then. How’d she handle it?’

  ‘Brilliantly, really. She didn’t know when it was happening until I picked up the ring in New York, but she was fine, really enthusiastic.’

  ‘That’s great, Ethan. I’m glad Daisy’s OK with it. That kind of thing could have been a big stumbling block, especially when she’s so
attached to you.’

  And why wouldn’t she be? It had been just the two of them for so long, Ethan thought.

  ‘Is she still just as gung-ho on the health stuff?’

  He smiled sadly. ‘Afraid so. The other day she brought home this leaflet she’d picked up from somewhere about superfoods.’ It broke Ethan’s heart to see that most of the items listed were being lauded for their cancer-fighting abilities. ‘And she’s doing her utmost to try to make me take up jogging as a new year’s resolution,’ he told Brian. ‘Says it’ll help keep my stress levels down.’

  Which was another reason Ethan was still at pains to reassure his daughter that the mix-up with the bags wasn’t her fault and that he’d be able to get the ring back with minimum hassle.

  The problem was that he didn’t know if that were true.

  ‘She’s a great kid. And you’re a great father, Ethan, better than I could ever hope to be. Not that that’s on the cards,’ he added sardonically. ‘Or if it is, I know nothing about it, nor do I want to.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Ethan smiled, thinking that with Brian’s reputation it was very likely that he might indeed have offspring somewhere that he didn’t know about. Although Ethan didn’t know if what his friend had said about him being a good father was true. He’d muddled his way along so far, but there was so much he didn’t know about bringing up a little girl in today’s world. Which was why he was so happy to have found Vanessa. There was no replacing Daisy’s real mum, of course, but it was plain to see that his beloved daughter needed a strong female influence in her life.

  ‘So what’s your plan for getting this ring back, then?’ Brian asked. ‘I take it you’re still going ahead with the big proposal.’

  Ethan looked at him. ‘Well, of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Anyway, seems like I might need to take a trip to Dublin soon.’ He explained how the numerous messages he’d left for the other party were so far unreturned.

  Brian looked incredulous. ‘And how exactly do you plan to get this mysterious trip past your lovely bride-to-be without telling her what’s going on? Hell, Ethan –’ he paused, shaking his head ‘– call me old-fashioned, but if you’re going to marry the woman shouldn’t you be able to actually talk to her?’

  Ethan pushed aside his empty glass, and set his elbows on the bar. ‘That’s funny coming from someone who hasn’t stayed with one woman longer than six months.’

  ‘Point taken.’ Brian grinned, unable to deny he was a renowned Lothario, his esteemed profession helping a lot in this regard.

  ‘Anyway, as it turns out, things aren’t that simple. The woman who has the ring . . . I met her in New York . . . Gary Knowles’s girlfriend,’ he continued, stumbling over the words a little. ‘We had coffee, and exchanged phone numbers. So I suppose I’ll just have to try to—’

  ‘Hold on! Woman? What woman? You didn’t mention a woman. I thought some bloke had the ring.’

  ‘He did. At least I think he did, but he didn’t . . . doesn’t realise it.’ Ethan glanced across and felt the weight of his friend’s perplexed look, something he’d last seen when Brian’s car had a flat and he’d admitted he didn’t know how to change a tyre.

  A couple of very long minutes passed during which Ethan noticed the music coming from the jukebox and the growing hum of people in the bar. It was Happy Hour and people were filing in. He felt diminished, as if all the great plans he’d had in mind had suddenly been bundled in the palm of his hand and inadvertently dropped and stepped upon.

  ‘Look, I’m not trying to say that the way you’re handling this is wrong,’ Brian began, his tone suddenly serious. ‘I just think you need to figure out what on earth you’re doing and why. Anyway, what’s happening here? You’re usually the advice man and now you’ve got me being the touchy-feely-thinky one. I don’t do this; I save it for the writing. So just get all this sorted so we can get back to our normal roles here, yes?’

  Ethan raised a smile. ‘You’re right. I should just go and get the ring back, and give it to Vanessa as planned.’

  Brian said nothing, but raised his glass and gave Ethan a look that said he wasn’t quite convinced. They sat in silence for another couple of minutes before his friend spoke again. ‘Actually, I’m not even saying that’s the right thing to do. Get the ring back, yes – hell, if I’d spent that much on a piece of jewellery I’d be swimming to Dublin to get it back, let me tell you. But in terms of proposing to Vanessa . . . just make sure it’s really what you want. I know you’re anxious about Daisy but don’t sell yourself short as a parent either. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re on some sort of timeline – there should be no race to the finish when it comes to something like this.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Don’t be afraid to take your time; make sure it’s what you both want, and for the right reasons.’

  ‘Thanks for the advice, but speaking of time –’ Ethan gulped down about half of the newly poured wine, and set the glass purposefully on the bar ‘– I’d better go. Vanessa’s coming over this evening. She’s picking Daisy up from ballet class and then we’re having dinner.’ He checked the time on his watch; it was after six-thirty. ‘They’re probably there by now.’

  Brian in turn set his glass on the varnished wooden bar and gave the barman a nod for the bill.

  ‘Hoofing it or cabbing it?’ his friend asked when they got outside.

  ‘I’ll walk, actually.’ The two men stood there on the path for a moment, in the glow of red and green neon. ‘Thanks,’ Ethan said. ‘Happy new year.’

  ‘Same to you. Have a good one. And if you need any help sorting out that other thing,’ he said – referring, Ethan suspected, to the ring – ‘give me a bell.’

  ‘Will do.’

  As Ethan turned to go, he felt something at the edge of his brain. It was that feeling again, but now it was accentuated by Brian’s comment about taking his time. Time was exactly what he didn’t have. If he could just make a decision, some sort of decision, and act on it . . .

  Yes, that’s what he needed. And Daisy needed it too. Action. Pulling on his gloves, Ethan noticed on his wrist the bracelet Vanessa had given him. He remembered the quote and mumbled it to himself: ‘She loved him with too clear a vision to fear his cloudiness.’

  ‘No, nothing to fear here,’ he said, trudging towards home in the melting snow, with a warm cushion of alcohol to buoy him. He was going home to make dinner for his two girls. They would have a nice meal, maybe cosy up by the fireplace and watch some television.

  Vanessa would stay the night and Ethan would make sure she knew exactly how he felt about her. Maybe he would even bring up the subject of the future. He still wanted the ring to be a surprise, but if they broached the subject as to where the relationship was headed, surely the tension that had existed between them since Christmas would dissipate?

  A few minutes later he arrived back at the town house and, opening the door, immediately smelled garlic. The place was strangely quiet considering that Daisy and Vanessa were both there; at least Ethan assumed they were because Vanessa’s Volvo was parked outside. ‘Where are my lovely ladies?’ he called out.

  ‘Hi, Dad,’ Daisy cried, coming straight from her room. She was still dressed in her leotard and pink tutu and looked adorable.

  ‘Hi, buttercup. How was dance class?’

  ‘It was fine. Vanessa was a bit late to pick me up, so I just practised for a few more minutes. Come on. She’s in the kitchen. We’ve been looking at my drawings – and yours too,’ she continued chirpily, leading to where Vanessa sat on one of the three bar stools in front of the small kitchen island.

  ‘Hi, darling,’ he said, kissing her cheek. Then he noticed she was just finishing some Milanese chicken. ‘Oh! You’ve already eaten?’

  ‘Yes, we couldn’t wait. Dinner was ready for six, like we agreed.’

  ‘Oh.’ Instantly Ethan felt wrong-footed.

  ‘I called your mobile to check how much longer you’d be but there was no reply.’

  Sure enough,
there was a missed-call notice on the screen of Ethan’s phone. ‘I mustn’t have felt it vibrating while I was walking back. I just met Brian for a glass and a catch-up.’

  ‘A glass? Smells like quite a bit more to me,’ she replied, with a smile that Ethan knew belied her annoyance.

  ‘I’m really sorry. I was sure we’d said seven . . .’

  ‘It’s OK, Dad. We saved some for you.’ But Ethan didn’t really hear Daisy. Instead, he was surveying the pictures she had drawn of the trip, which were sprawled across the island unit. Just as she’d said, she and Vanessa had been looking through them. ‘I showed Vanessa where she is in this one,’ his daughter continued.

  ‘Yes, nice to see I am in one.’ Vanessa laughed but he could hear the edge in her tone. She rinsed her plate and put it in the dishwasher. ‘All your favourite memories of our trip – you should put those in a scrapbook, Daisy. Yours, too, Ethan.’ Her voice had enough sincerity in it to appease Daisy, but Ethan knew well that she wasn’t happy. ‘That one of you and Daisy eating cookies is lovely,’ she said, idly picking up the picture of their meeting with Rachel. ‘And this must be the agent you met?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ethan nodded, non-committally.

  ‘It was the best trip ever, wasn’t it?’ Daisy said, smiling, and he grasped at the opportunity to change the subject.

  ‘Definitely. Especially because it was your first real trip, honey; but there will be more. The three of us will take many more trips together,’ he said pointedly. ‘Maybe next time Vanessa can choose the destination.’ He paused, waiting for her to agree.

  ‘Maybe,’ she replied. ‘Are you finished with this already, Daisy? You didn’t eat much.’

  ‘No, I’ll have some more now. I just wanted to wait for Dad.’

  Ethan helped her up onto the stool and shrugged awkwardly at Vanessa. He grabbed the plate and put it in the microwave to warm it up. Then he warmed his own and took a seat, while Vanessa kept moving about, cleaning the counter and adding more dishes to the washer.