Francesca's Party

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Ken, if I’m working for you what goes on between these four walls is between you and me. We’ll give it a month and see how it goes. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed.’ He held out his hand and she took and shook it. ‘Welcome to Ken Kennedy Publicity.’

  ‘It’s a spoon of coffee, milk and no sugar,’ Francesca informed her new boss as she walked back into the office and took off her jacket.

  Ken could hear her moving about the office as he boiled the kettle. He was a bit bemused, to say the least. It had been the strangest interview that he’d ever conducted, that was for sure. In fact he felt in a funny sort of way that Francesca had interviewed him and found him satisfactory. So much for being the boss! The next month was certainly going to be interesting. If she started bossing him around she’d be out on her ear pronto, he decided as he stirred in a spoon of coffee and rooted in the press for a few biscuits to serve his new employee.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  NIKKI SLIPPED OUT of the apartment and took the lift to the foyer. Mark was still asleep, and she didn’t want to disturb him. He’d flown in from Geneva the previous evening and had had to go straight out to attend a colleague’s retirement function that had gone on until the early hours. He was whacked. He didn’t normally sleep on and she’d twisted and turned beside him before deciding to get up and go out.

  Normally they went out for brunch on a Saturday, but given that he’d been tired and cranky Nikki thought it might be better to have something at home on the balcony. Some torte or quiche perhaps, with pissaladière and a crisp salad, washed down with a nice Sancerre. Maybe that might put him in a good humour, she thought glumly. Although he had no business being in a mood. It was she that was entitled to feel miffed. The trip to Paris had been a disaster because he’d read her the riot act again for calling on his precious Francesca and he’d been as moody as hell all weekend.

  Then he’d informed her that he had to go to Geneva unexpectedly and he wouldn’t be able to make that Marshall woman’s gala. That had been the icing on the cake. She’d flown home from Paris alone. Privately Nikki felt the Geneva trip had suited Mark down to the ground. It had given him a handy excuse for staying away from Karen Marshall’s bash. She was still fuming over it. She’d bought a beautiful but very expensive Amanda Wakeley black halter neck the last time she was in London, especially for the occasion, and it galled her that it was still lying in her wardrobe, unworn. She’d so badly wanted to walk into that function on Mark’s arm and eyeball that slobby wife of his. It would have been a perfect opportunity to show Francesca that the marriage was over once and for all. After their encounter, she was beginning to feel that Francesca’s claws were in Mark for good and he’d never get his freedom.

  Nikki sighed as she started the ignition and drove towards the imposing black wrought-iron gates that opened smoothly to allow her to drive onto Mount Merrion Avenue. Her apartment had been an excellent buy, she reflected. Bought just before the boom in property prices, it had trebled in value in the past three years. She’d been thinking about investing in another apartment, one she could rent out, but the last Bacon report had made her have second thoughts. The punitive stamp duty and other taxes plus the exorbitant property prices did not make for ideal investment. And the way things were going it looked as though being a landlord wasn’t worth the hassle.

  Perhaps she’d buy in Spain. She’d seen beautiful beach-front apartments in Marbella advertised by Hamilton Osborne King for half the price of property here and the same estate agents had recently advertised attractive town houses in Nerja that included their own swimming pool. It would be nice to have a place abroad that would be relatively self-financing through rental income in the high seasons. Then she could take off to the sun for a week or so every spring and autumn to recharge her batteries.

  Her dream of buying a home with Mark didn’t look as though it was going to materialize, so it was best to get on with things, she decided. Her bonuses were bound to be pretty good next year, she could well afford to consider investing abroad. Besides, it would do Mark all the good in the world to know that she was a completely independent woman. He was beginning to take her too much for granted and she didn’t like it. He wasn’t dancing attendance on her like he had at the beginning of their relationship. That delightful first bloom, when it was all new and exciting, had worn off and she missed it, she thought sadly. He’d always been so glad to see her, been so hungry for her. Now sometimes she felt that he wanted to get sex over and done with. It was a chore for him. Maybe she should be realistic and face the fact that they seemed to be going nowhere fast. Maybe she should end it. Hastily she brushed the thought aside. She wouldn’t think about ending it yet. She’d give it another little while and see how things panned out.

  Disheartened beyond measure she got into lane and drove into Blackrock.

  * * *

  Mark yawned and stretched and reached over to cuddle Nikki. His eyes opened as he felt cold sheets. She wasn’t there. He called her name. No answer. He lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. A little breeze blew through the open window and he could see from the bed that it was a fine sunny day. His stomach growled. He was hungry. He thought longingly of Francesca’s sizzling fry-ups on a Saturday morning that the whole family had enjoyed. Nobody could cook fried bread like Francesca. Nikki rarely cooked a fry. It stank out the apartment and she hated the lingering smell of bacon. He thought of Owen and Jonathan in America, no doubt gorging on waffles and maple syrup on Saturday mornings. Owen had gone off without as much as a goodbye. That had hurt. Owen was obviously never going to forgive him.

  Mark sighed. He knew there was a lot of disapproval among his older colleagues too. Francesca had been very popular. But fuck it, he wasn’t going to live his life just to suit a few dry old codgers who behind all their disapproval were probably suffused with envy. If they had a chance to get involved with a woman like Nikki they’d jump at it.

  Mark rubbed his eyes. It was hard on Nikki too. He was inclined to forget that. He hadn’t been very nice to her in Paris, he conceded. If he wasn’t careful she’d kick him out. She’d been highly annoyed at missing Karen Marshall’s party. Personally he’d been relieved. He didn’t want to be at a function that both Francesca and Nikki were attending. He far preferred to keep a low profile. Besides, he didn’t want to rub Francesca’s nose in it, he thought ruefully. Nikki was a woman in her prime, his wife had started on the slippery slope to middle age and from what he’d seen the last time he’d been with her, she was making no effort to halt it. There was no need to let herself go. It just took discipline and self-pride. He felt far better since he’d gone back to the gym and got fit again. And he should thank Nikki for not cooking frys for him and for keeping him on the culinary straight and narrow.

  He admired her for the way she took care of herself. Her body was in tip-top shape because she worked out and ate well. Her eyes were bright, her skin clear, not like Francesca’s dark circles and lacklustre skin tone. Nikki was a very disciplined woman and it showed. Francesca could learn lessons from her, he thought crossly.

  He wondered if she’d gone to the gala. She hadn’t been out and about much since their split. If she had gone, she’d probably taken Millie as her guest, he conjectured as he reached over to the phone and dialled Nikki’s mobile. ‘Where are you, honey? I miss you,’ he said huskily.

  ‘I’m heading into Blackrock. I’m going to Minsky’s to get us something for brunch. I thought you might prefer to eat on the balcony instead of going out,’ Nikki’s voice came crisply down the line.

  ‘Why don’t we go to IdleWilde and go for a walk on Killiney Hill afterwards? It’s a lovely day – I could do with some fresh air.’

  ‘Oh Mark, that would be great. A walk is just what we need. I’ll come home and change. Won’t be long.’ He could hear the lilt in her voice before he hung up and he smiled. They were going to have a nice day today. He was dying to tell her about the double-dealing that was going on behind closed doors in
Geneva. Mark loved talking to Nikki about work. She was always so interested, far more than Francesca had ever been. Nikki loved the cut and thrust of banking and high-powered finance; in that they had a true bond, he thought happily. He was a lucky man to find a woman who was so intellectually stimulating and dead sexy with it.

  He jumped out of bed and strode into the shower. He felt horny. Before they headed off to IdleWilde they could have a nice sexy interlude and afterwards he’d really be ready for a hot cup of La Scala and one of the café’s most popular orders, the big breakfast roll. He’d have his fry-up after all, he smiled as he stepped under the hot jets of water, hoping Nikki would be home soon to join him.

  Francesca sat on the deck and turned her face up to the sun. It was a glorious morning. After breakfast she would take Trixie for a walk along Howth Pier. She poured herself a cup of freshly brewed coffee and buttered her toast. What was it that made eating outside so inviting? she wondered as she bit into the crisp toasted bread smothered in melting butter.

  The garden looked lovely with masses of trailing roses along the trellis and a profusion of colourful bedding plants and shrubs in bloom. The breeze sent a perfumed waft of lavender drifting under her nose and she inhaled it with pleasure. She wondered sadly if Mark missed the garden. He’d always enjoyed sitting out, reading his paper or doing the crossword. There wasn’t much privacy on a balcony, she thought derisively as she flicked to the back page of the Irish Times weekend supplement. She couldn’t help the broad smile of satisfaction that creased her face as she saw the rather flattering picture of herself, with the Clarks, in the social column.

  When she saw another picture and read the column in the Irish Mail she felt an even fiercer sense of satisfaction. ‘Stick that in your pipes and smoke it, the pair of you,’ she muttered as she reread the piece.

  * * *

  Flying solo but flying high, after several months of absence on the social circuit, since the break-up of her marriage from dishy international banker Mark Kirwan, Francesca Kirwan looked radiant in sequins at Karen Marshall’s cancer charity gala. Mark and his new squeeze, fellow banker Nikki Langan, were nowhere to be seen. Wonder why … as he has always shared the top table since EuroBank Irl. contribute generously to Karen’s good cause. Rumour has it the two ladies are at daggers drawn. Quelle surprise!

  * * *

  Quelle surprise! indeed, Francesca thought triumphantly, her transformation and new life had begun in earnest and she hoped her husband was reading all about her wherever he and his ‘new squeeze’ were having breakfast.

  Would she ever have someone to share breakfast with again? she wondered forlornly as her spirits sank at the thought of Mark and Nikki eating breakfast and gazing into each other’s eyes in some ‘in’ eatery. All she had for company was Trixie. Since Owen had gone the house seemed dull and empty. She missed him sorely. Missed his unquenchable exuberance and sense of fun. The house was as quiet as a morgue. Big and empty and quiet. It unnerved her sometimes going from room to room remembering when the boys had been growing up and the house had been filled with their friends. She and Mark had often retreated to his cosy study to get a bit of peace and quiet. He still had books and magazines and golf trophies that he hadn’t taken with him. Almost as though he had left part of himself in his study for the day when he might come back.

  She didn’t want him back, she thought fiercely. Their life together was finished. She should insist he clear out all his rubbish and take it over to Ms Career Woman’s luxury pad on Mount Merrion Avenue. Mark had given her the address and asked her to redirect his post. She couldn’t bring herself to write her address on the envelopes so she sent it to the bank instead, much to his chagrin. Maybe she might meet an interesting man in her new job, she thought wistfully, trying to cheer herself up. How satisfying it would be to be with someone just to show Mark that she wasn’t past it.

  ‘Oh, you’re pathetic,’ she muttered crossly. Such an attitude to have at her age. If she were sixteen it would be understandable, but to be forty and want to have a man just to give the finger to her errant husband was the pits. ‘You’re a sad old boot,’ she told herself as she poured more coffee. Just as well she was starting a new job, things were really rock bottom when you started talking to yourself. She held out a bit of buttered toast to Trixie. Just as well, too, that the gossip columnist couldn’t see her now. Far from ‘radiant in sequins’. But she had started to get on with her life.

  Francesca finished her breakfast and tidied up. She needed to sort out her clothes for the following week and get the car valeted if she was going to be collecting authors and the like from the airport. She took one last look at her photo and studied it intently, trying to view it through Mark’s eyes. Not a hint of depression or trauma, thankfully. In fact she looked as if life were a bowl of cherries. And it will be, she assured herself. It was said life began at forty. She was more than ready to test the theory.

  Mark bit into a mouthful of sausage and egg and took a long slug of hot coffee. IdleWilde was buzzing and the atmosphere was laid back and trendy. It made him feel young, part of a scene he’d missed out on, tied down as he’d been with family and career. He smiled at Nikki. She was beautiful … and wild. They’d gone at it hot and heavy in the shower. Just as well the apartments were thoroughly soundproofed. He slid his hand along her thigh. He felt eighteen again.

  ‘How about we take a couple of days off and head down to Kinsale and spend a bit of time together?’ he suggested.

  ‘Oh Mark, I’d love to,’ Nikki enthused. ‘But I’ll have to check my diary. I’ve meetings in London next week that I simply have to go to.’

  ‘Oh! I was hoping we could go next week while the weather is so fine,’ he said, disappointed.

  ‘And what about your appointments?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ll reschedule.’

  ‘Mark, we’re at a particularly sensitive juncture in negotiations, I need to be there,’ Nikki explained.

  ‘Why? What’s happening?’

  Nikki set aside her cup and began to detail the nitty-gritties of their latest takeover. Mark listened intently, interrupting occasionally with a pertinent question. They ate and talked and ordered more coffee and then Mark told her about the goings-on in Geneva and as Nikki laughed heartily at some witticism he made, he felt really glad to be in her company.

  His mobile rang and he scowled as he noted the number on the screen. ‘Hello, Dad,’ he said patiently. He should have known the day was going too well.

  ‘Have you seen the papers?’ his father demanded.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hrumph. It’s a bloody disgrace, that’s what it is. Disgracing the family name. That wife of yours going to parties on her own and you being discussed in most disrespectful terms. It just isn’t good enough, Mark. I’m damn annoyed. Thank God your dear departed mother isn’t alive to see this.’

  ‘Dad, the signal’s very bad. I’ll call you later,’ Mark said firmly as he switched off the phone. What on earth was his father talking about?

  ‘What’s wrong with your father?’ Nikki asked, half-heartedly.

  ‘Oh, he’s going on about something about me in the papers. Give us a look until I see what he means.’ He held out his hand for a paper. Nikki took the Irish Times out of her sun bag and handed it to him. She turned to the back page of the Irish Mail.

  Mark felt his stomach give a little lurch as he saw Francesca’s familiar face smiling out at him. She looked very well, he thought in surprise as he read the caption. So she’d gone to Karen’s do. Somehow he hadn’t really felt she had the bottle to do it. And she looked as though she was enjoying herself too. Well, good for her, he thought ruefully as he saw Nikki’s expression change.

  ‘What does it say?’

  ‘I’m your “new squeeze”,’ she said caustically.

  ‘Let’s see.’ He read the piece. ‘Sarky bitch. Take no notice. It’s tomorrow’s fish-and-chip wrappings.’

  ‘I bet Francesca enjoyed it,’ Nikki
retorted.

  ‘She’s not really into gossip columns,’ Mark said quickly.

  ‘Why do you always defend her?’ Nikki snapped.

  ‘I’m not defending her, Nikki. I was merely making a statement.’

  ‘You do defend her. All the time,’ she persisted. ‘She can do no wrong in your eyes. Get over your guilt, Mark, and take a good look at her picture. That woman is saying to you: I don’t need you. I can do this on my own. She doesn’t need you any more, Mark, so deal with it.’

  ‘Will you calm down, Nikki? There’s no need to get so agitated over a simple remark. Let’s finish our meal and go for a walk,’ Mark suggested. He really didn’t need a scene about Francesca right now. Why did Nikki feel so aggressive towards his wife? It was illogical. ‘Look, Bono’s just come in,’ he murmured, hoping to take Nikki’s mind off the subject.

  ‘Big deal,’ she muttered, studiously refusing to gawk.

  ‘I’d love to see his house. The views are stunning,’ Mark continued evenly.

  ‘Talking of property, I’m thinking of investing in the south of Spain,’ Nikki said coolly.

  ‘Oh!’ Mark was surprised. This was news to him. ‘Well, it’s extremely important where you buy, don’t forget. Location. Location. Location. Resale value, rental desirability and all of that.’

  ‘I’m not a fool, Mark,’ Nikki retorted snootily. ‘I know all that.’

  ‘Sorry! Of course you do,’ Mark apologized. That had been a stupid and patronizing remark. Nikki would have all options covered.

  ‘So where are you thinking of buying, and will you take me along for a dirty weekend?’ he teased.

  ‘Maybe.’ Nikki relaxed a little. ‘I’m thinking of Marbella—’

  ‘Great golf courses there,’ Mark interjected enthusiastically. ‘Go for it, Nikki. You won’t go wrong. And this is the time to buy. Property prices are rising in Spain and Portugal. Get in while the going’s good.’ Mark was delighted with Nikki’s news. It was good to see her investing wisely. He really admired her. There was a lot to be said for independent women.