Francesca's Party

by Patricia Scanlan

  Although he wouldn’t say it to Nikki, he felt trapped sometimes in her first-floor two-bedroom apartment. Although it was bright and spacious as apartments went, he still felt like he was living in an egg box. There was nowhere to get away and be alone. He missed his space. And the noise of the traffic, although masked somewhat by the trees in the landscaped gardens, was a never-ending, intrusive, dull roar that he couldn’t get used to. He wasn’t sleeping well at all. Nikki was a fidgety, twitchy sleeper, unlike Francesca who conked out once she hit the pillow and rarely changed position. She was sex mad too. He was exhausted trying to keep up with her. He was petrified he’d wilt on her some day and disappoint her. How Francesca would laugh at that, he thought wryly. So much for feeling young again.

  The whole bloody thing had turned into such a nightmare since Francesca had found out about them. Some men got away with it for years. How had he been so bloody unfortunate? he thought sorrowfully as he picked up his parcels and emerged into the hordes of last minute shoppers.

  He and Nikki were going to have a candlelit supper, prepared by him. They shared the cooking. He still had to go to Marks & Spencer’s food hall to get dill and baby potatoes. He was doing salmon in cream and wine sauce. It was the easiest dish that he could think of at the moment but when he saw the queues and the big trolley loads at the check-outs, he turned on his heel and hurried back towards Stephen’s Green where his car was parked in the bank’s underground car park. He’d call into Superquinn in Sutton, it was on his route home.

  Mark was halfway down Dawson Street before he remembered that he didn’t live in Howth any more and Sutton wasn’t on his route home now. It was a very forlorn moment. He’d never felt as lonely in his life.

  Nikki put the finishing touches to wrapping the luxurious terry-towelling robe she’d bought for Mark’s Christmas present. In one pocket she’d put the latest Terry Pratchett novel, in the other a pale yellow and grey silk tie that he’d admired one day when they were out shopping and an expensive Grand Cru that he particularly liked. She’d spent time deciding what to buy him. She wanted him to like his presents.

  She sighed. Mark was terribly unsettled. Moody even. It was very frustrating. She could see that it had been a great upheaval in his life but it was time that he faced facts. His marriage was over, he had to get on with it. Every time he went home to Francesca he’d come back in a ferociously bad humour. It disturbed her that his wife still had such an effect on him. Why couldn’t he just get on with enjoying life with her? It could be so good if only he’d relax and let go of the past.

  It hurt that he wouldn’t accompany her to any of the Christmas parties she’d attended. It really hurt that, to all intents and purposes, no-one knew about their relationship at work and people still thought that he was happily married to Francesca. But she was afraid to put pressure on him in case he upped and left. That would be a fatal mistake. At least they were going into a new year and things might move forwards, she consoled herself as she placed an elegant red bow on the crisp gold paper she’d used. She surveyed the parcel. It looked mysterious and sophisticated and not a bit garish, she thought with pleasure. Just like the image she liked to portray. If the hot shots at work who thought she was such a cool bitch could see her now, wouldn’t they gloat, she thought wryly. She who had always said that no man was more important than her career. She’d believed it once too, in her late twenties. Until she’d got involved with Mark, relationships had certainly played second fiddle to her career. But this was different. She loved Mark. He was a complex, challenging man to love, but she’d relish the undertaking much more if she knew there was going to be a positive outcome. Maybe they should get a place together and move. It might feel more like his place. This apartment had her stamp firmly upon it. But she liked it. It represented the sum of her achievements and financially it was her biggest asset.

  She looked around the sitting room. It was stylish and minimalist. No clutter. Polished floors. Pale cream walls. Muted dusky pink and grey patterned drapes that picked out the colours in the expensive hand-woven rugs that she’d bought on a trip to Egypt. A pale grey sofa and two chairs that she’d bought in O’Hagan Design. A coffee table with an expensive candle on each corner stood in the centre of the room. An antique sandalwood chest and a glass shelf unit to house her collection of Louise Kennedy crystal were her only other pieces of furniture.

  Patio doors led out onto a small tiled balcony. She had one cordyline and some pots of long grasses, for effect. Plants were not her forte.

  Her apartment had appeared in a homes and garden feature in a supplement in one of the weekend papers. Everyone in work had bought it. There’d been a lot of envious glances in her direction that week and she’d felt delightfully superior. She’d been complimented on her exquisite taste by Sonia Grimes, the MD’s wife. Praise indeed! She did have good taste, she affirmed as she straightened a candle that was slightly crooked.

  Her only concession to the festive season were masses of slim elegant red tapers and a delicate set of white lights entwined in a stunning red and white floral arrangement of bare branches, red berries and white lilies that she’d had made to order in an exclusive florists off Stephen’s Green. It lent an extremely stylish air to the room. Nikki could not stand gaudy baubles and tacky glitter.

  She was looking forward immensely to their supper tonight. It was definitely going to be her nicest Christmas ever. She was going to visit her family with their presents and get that out of the way right now. It would be lovely, then, to come home knowing that there was a tasty meal prepared for her by the man she loved. And afterwards … Nikki felt a tingle of pleasure shoot through her. She was feeling horny already.

  Chapter Fifteen

  New Year’s Eve

  ‘YOO HOO, FRANCESCA, Francesca, where on earth have you been? Is everything all right? We’ve been wondering, as we haven’t seen you around? You didn’t have your usual Christmas Eve bash, and we couldn’t get in touch to invite you to our soirée.’

  Francesca’s heart sank as she heard Viv Cassidy hollering at her from her car window. Viv lived in a big house on the opposite side of the road. She was a nosy cow, and Francesca didn’t really like her. She loved boasting about the exotic locations she and her husband, Desmond, a barrister, travelled to several times a year. She was an out and out snob, a member of this yacht club and that golf club, friendly with this celebrity and that politician.

  Francesca took a deep breath as she pushed open the gates. It was now or never, she decided. She couldn’t keep putting it off for ever. ‘Viv, hi.’ She turned to face her neighbour, who had pulled into the kerb, all ready for a chat. ‘We haven’t been here for Christmas and we didn’t have our usual do because Mark and I have separated.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Viv’s blue eyes got rounder and rounder. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she squeaked. ‘I had no idea.’ What a simply glorious piece of gossip, she thought delightedly. Wait until I tell the girls! ‘You poor, poor dear. Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Not a thing, Viv. Thanks,’ Francesca said evenly. She knew that Viv was dying to race off to spread the news.

  ‘You poor darling. No wonder you look so shattered. And how are the boys taking it?’ Viv oozed sympathy.

  ‘These things happen, Viv. They’re coping.’

  ‘But you and Mark seemed so … so compatible.’ Viv tutted. ‘Er …’ she had to ask – ‘is there anyone else involved?’

  ‘Viv, I’d love to stop and chat but I’m in a bit of a rush. I’ll catch you again.’ Francesca slid into the car and revved up the engine and shot into the drive, leaving Viv open-mouthed at the abrupt ending of their conversation. Francesca hadn’t gone ten yards before Viv was on the car phone to Eva Collins, her bosom buddy.

  ‘Guess who’s separated? You’ll never believe it,’ she burbled excitedly.

  ‘Who? Who? Tell me right now or I’ll hang up,’ Eva demanded. This would be good: she knew Viv of old.

  ‘It’s Francesca and Mark.
Isn’t that something? I just can’t believe it. Darby and Joan! And when I asked her if there was anyone else involved she got into the car and whizzed off like a bat out of hell. One of them must be having an affair and I bet it’s not her. She looks dreadful. Big bags under her eyes and awful black circles. I never thought he had it in him. He’s so serious. It’s the quiet ones you have to watch, Eva. Still waters run deep. If I find out anything else I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Hang on, Ed plays bridge with Mark’s father. I’ll get him to suss it out when he phones him later on to make their arrangements. There’s a big game next Tuesday for some charity or other.’

  ‘Oh, get Ed to ring now,’ Viv urged. ‘And call me back the minute you hear anything.’

  ‘I will. I will,’ Eva twittered excitedly. ‘Talk soon.’

  Francesca heard Viv drive off and cursed her roundly. ‘Nosy, snobby old bitch,’ she swore as she let herself into the house. She knew fine well that the news would be around the entire neighbourhood and their circle of acquaintances before the evening was out. They’d be the talk of many a party tonight, she thought grimly as she punched in the numbers for the alarm.

  She shivered. The house was freezing. She’d turned off the heating for the week that she was staying in Millie’s. She should have come home and put it on and then gone grocery shopping instead of doing it the other way around. She flicked on the master switch and heard the heating come on. She might as well unpack the shopping instead of hanging around shivering, she told herself crossly, annoyed at her lack of forward planning. It was bad enough coming home alone on a New Year’s Eve without coming home to an igloo.

  Millie had begged her to stay, but Francesca badly needed to be alone. She couldn’t face the party that her sister was hosting. The thought of singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ at midnight was enough to crack her up. She didn’t particularly like New Year’s Eve at the best of times but tonight was going to be the pits.

  She’d filched two of her mother’s sleeping tablets when she’d called to see her parents earlier in the day. By nine p.m. she’d be in a drugged stupor, she promised herself as she lugged her shopping out of the boot.

  She was just sitting down to some tea and toast when the phone rang. She ignored it. It wasn’t the boys. She’d phoned them earlier to wish them as happy a new year as they could have under the circumstances. Moments later her mobile rang.

  ‘Tsk!’ she muttered, annoyed with the unwelcome intruder. It might be Millie trying to change her mind, she thought ruefully as she rooted in her bag and found the phone.

  Her heart leaped when she saw Mark’s name up on the screen. For a moment she was tempted not to answer, but curiosity got the better of her.

  ‘Yes, Mark?’ she said coolly.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Francesca, what the hell do you mean by telling Ed Collins that we’ve separated?’ Mark barked. ‘He asked my father about it and of course Dad knew nothing because I hadn’t told him. I’ve just had him on the phone doing handstands. You’d no business telling people without my permission.’ Mark’s fury was palpable.

  ‘I don’t need your goddamn permission for anything, Mark Kirwan, and I never said a word to Ed Collins. I’d know better than to discuss my private business with that old idiot,’ she ranted. ‘But if I want to tell the world and his mother that you and I are apart, I reserve the right to do so and tough if you don’t like it. Your feelings are of not the slightest interest to me any more.’ She hung up in fury and switched the mobile off completely.

  ‘The nerve of him,’ she muttered, pushing her toast away, her appetite gone. The only thing that gave her any satisfaction was imagining Gerald’s lockjaw when Ed Collins had broached the subject. It hadn’t taken long for Viv to get the jungle drums rolling, she thought grimly. She’d have loved to be a fly on the wall when her father-in-law rang Mark. She wondered if Mark had admitted to being with another woman. She drank her tea and surfed the TV channels but she was too agitated to concentrate on anything. Mark had made her so mad, she hoped her anger would not prevent the tablets from taking effect. The last thing she needed was a sleepless New Year’s Eve night, listening to the sounds of revelry at midnight. She thrust the tablets into her mouth and took a slug of tea and marched upstairs and undressed. It was seven-thirty.

  She got into bed, switched off the light and waited for oblivion.

  Mark was so angry he felt like driving over to Francesca and shaking the living daylights out of her. How disloyal of her to blab to the neighbours without even warning him. When Gerald had phoned demanding to know what was all this about a separation, he’d nearly died. His father had lectured him long and loudly about the sacrament of marriage and about the binding vows he’d taken in the sight of God the day he’d married Francesca. In the end he’d hung up on his father with a brusque, ‘It’s really none of your business.’ Gerald was in a foul humour anyway, having had to look after himself over the Christmas season. He’d had a very cushy number all these years coming to stay with them and eating them out of house and home. For the first time, Mark realized just how much Francesca had had to put up with. And he could quite understand her resentment of Vera for ducking out of it all.

  Nevertheless he was as mad as hell with her for her complete disloyalty. Now it would be all over town and he’d have to tell his colleagues at work. If it weren’t for the fact that Nikki truly loved him life wouldn’t be worth living, he thought angrily as he waited for Nikki to come down to the car. They were heading to West Cork for New Year and he was looking forward to getting out of Dublin for a few days.

  When they came back he’d tell them at work that he and Nikki were living together. Might as well get it all over and done with. It might not be so bad then. They could start the new year afresh. Francesca could go her way and he would go his and they’d work out some sort of financial package. At least the house was paid for, he thought with relief. He’d paid off the mortgage on it years ago. It would grieve him greatly to be paying a mortgage on a house he wasn’t even living in. It was in their joint names. Francesca could live in it and at least he’d know it was there to return to if things didn’t work out with himself and Nikki. He could live upstairs and Francesca could live downstairs … and if she didn’t like it: tough.

  He saw Nikki coming out of the apartment. She looked stunning. She wore a three-quarter-length ribbed black jacket over a cream polo neck and tailored cream pants. She smiled when she saw him looking at her and his heart lifted. She was beautiful and he loved her. Nikki deserved his love far more than Francesca did. Nikki would never treat him in the shabby way his wife had. Well, as far as he was concerned the marriage was over and he and Nikki were going to have a good life.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ he said as she slid into the car beside him.

  ‘And you look very distinguished, darling. All the women will be riddled with envy when they see the gorgeous man I’m with.’

  They kissed tenderly. Mark felt more lighthearted. The news was out; there was nothing he could do about it. He was free to be with Nikki without being overcome with apprehension and guilt. It was a good feeling and, he hoped, a very auspicious start to the new year.

  Nikki leaned her head on Mark’s shoulder as they danced closely together after a most delicious meal. The quartet of musicians were playing soft romantic music that suited her mood completely. This was the most perfect New Year’s Eve of her life. Thinking of all the frenetic forced gaiety of the previous year’s Millennium Eve when she’d been lonely and without a partner, she shuddered. Who would have thought that she would end up with the man of her dreams after all? Mark had told her that he was going to tell their colleagues that his marriage was over and that they were a couple. It was the greatest gift he could have given her and she was ecstatic. It couldn’t get any better than this, she thought happily as Mark nuzzled her ear and whispered, ‘Let’s go to bed.’ Nikki didn’t need to be asked twice.

  Francesca’s phone rang and rang. Viv frowned as once m
ore she got no answer. She could see through the trees from her bedroom window that there was a light on in the hall of Francesca’s house across the road. There was one on in the bathroom too. She was ringing to do the neighbourly thing to tell Francesca to come over to the party that was going on downstairs. The world and his mother were at it and Viv felt that it would be very good for Francesca to pop over for an hour or so and forget her woes. She’d spent a thoroughly delightful afternoon phoning friends and acquaintances with the news – as well as checking that they were coming to the party, of course. It would cause quite a stir if Francesca walked in, now that everyone knew. She tried once more and reluctantly hung up as the phone just kept ringing and ringing.

  Francesca lay curled up in bed, fast asleep, thanks to her mother’s pilfered sleeping tablets. As the old year slid away and the new one arrived, not even the rowdy gaiety of Viv’s party across the street, as revellers whooped and hollered and beeped car horns, disturbed her peaceful slumber.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A MOURNFUL WHINE and a damp tongue on her cheek woke Francesca. Trixie stood on the bed gazing down at her anxiously between licks. Francesca patted her on the head and, bleary-eyed, tried to focus on her alarm clock. Shocked, she saw that it was almost quarter past eleven. She’d really conked out, she thought groggily. Those sleepers worked. Her head felt light and clouded and she was tempted to lie down again and drift off. But Trixie was impatient to be fed. She pushed back the duvet and shivered. The bedroom was freezing. The heating couldn’t have come on, she thought irritably as she dragged on her dressing gown and fished her slippers out from under the bed.