‘Sell it,’ Millie retorted.
‘Sell it?’ Francesca echoed. ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that. It’s the family home.’
‘Francesca, my dear girl, Jonathan’s in the States and what’s the betting Owen won’t stay there too? Mark’s done a bunk. There’s nothing to stop you and Mark selling the house and you getting half the proceeds and buying a smaller place of your own. Jonathan and Owen can always come and stay. It would be a new start. I think it would be very good for you.’
‘Mark wouldn’t agree. I don’t think he’d ever want to sell.’
‘Fuck him, Francesca. This is not about what he wants, it’s about what you want. And I can tell you one thing here and now: if you want to sabotage that relationship of his the one way to do it is to tell Mark that you want a divorce.
‘If you divorce him, he’s no excuse not to marry your one. If he wanted to marry her he’d have asked for a divorce long ago. He’s only using you as an excuse to keep her at bay,’ Millie said sagely. ‘She’s desperate. Otherwise she would never have come calling on you that day. You divorce him and they’ll be split up in six months.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know so,’ Millie said confidently. ‘And then he’ll come running back to you and you’ll be holding the trump cards.’
‘Could you imagine what Ma would say if I told her I was getting a divorce?’ Francesca groaned.
‘Tough, Francesca. She’ll just have to get over it. You only have one life, you can’t live it to suit Ma’s sensibilities. It was bad enough when she heard that I was going away for a week and leaving the kids with Aidan. Boy did I get flared nostrils and disapproving sniffs. You work out what’s best for you, not what’s best for Mark or Ma or anyone else.’
‘Oh, let’s not think about things like that just now,’ Francesca murmured. ‘Let’s just enjoy the sun.’
‘Sorry for lecturing,’ Millie apologized. ‘I didn’t mean to get up on my high horse.’
‘I know,’ Francesca said fondly. ‘You’d think it would be the other way around, me being the eldest and all.’
‘You couldn’t lecture if your life depended on it. I got all the bossy genes.’ Millie yawned. ‘Wake me up for a cocktail at four.’
‘Yes, boss,’ Francesca drawled. She closed her eyes and felt the tiredness of the past months drain away as a delicious lethargy suffused her body and she drowsed under the hot sun.
It was a delightful snooze and she felt refreshed an hour later when she woke up. Millie was snoring gently beside her. Francesca gazed in envy at her younger sister’s long golden limbs. Naturally athletic, her work as a gym teacher kept her fit and toned and beside her Francesca felt flabby and matronly. On the lounger next to her, a young blonde German girl sunbathed gracefully. Wearing only the skimpiest thong, she looked like a supermodel. It was depressing to say the least so Francesca averted her envious gaze and decided to go for a swim. Some brisk laps of the pool might help to stop everything from going south. She’d start her fitness regime in Portugal with swimming and walking and keep it up when she got home, she decided.
The water was cool and soothing to her warm limbs and Francesca swam contentedly, emptying her mind of thoughts and just concentrating on her stroke.
Millie had just woken up when she emerged twenty minutes later, invigorated. ‘It was fabulous. I really enjoyed it. You should get in,’ she told her sister.
‘Maybe later,’ Millie said lazily. ‘I’m thirsty. Is it cocktail time?’
‘Any time is cocktail time.’ Francesca grinned. ‘What do you want?’
‘I think a dressed Pimm’s might hit the spot.’
‘Hmmm, sounds good to me. I’ll go and get them.’
‘Thank you, wee slavie.’ Millie stretched languorously and turned on her side to ensure an all-round tan. She watched her sister weave her way between the loungers. She was so glad that she’d acted on impulse and booked the holiday for them, and for all her giving out, Aidan hadn’t minded a bit about taking a week off to mind the kids. She’d buy him something really nice; she was looking forward to a good dollop of child-free shopping.
She heard a faint melodic tone coming from the depths of Francesca’s beach bag. It was hardly Aidan, she’d spoken to him earlier in the day on Francesca’s phone. Her own mobile wasn’t able to receive calls outside of Ireland.
She rooted frantically and found the ringing phone. ‘Hello?’
‘Who’s that?’
Millie’s jaw dropped. It was Mark. She hadn’t spoken to him since Francesca had kicked him out.
‘It’s Millie,’ she said shortly.
‘Oh. Oh, Millie. How’s it going? Could I speak to Francesca please?’ He sounded uncomfortable.
‘Aaah, she’s … she’s in the Ladies at the moment,’ Millie fibbed. She wasn’t sure if Francesca had said anything to Mark about her holiday. She had the feeling that she hadn’t.
‘Where are you?’ Mark asked casually.
‘Out,’ she said tersely. ‘I’ll get Francesca to call you back. Bye.’
She sat chewing her lip. Should she tell Francesca that Mark had called? Maybe it was something urgent. Although he hadn’t sounded as though anything was amiss. It was obvious he didn’t know that she and Francesca were on holiday. Otherwise he surely wouldn’t have asked where were they. What a nuisance. And so early into their holiday too. She saw Francesca heading back towards her carrying a tray.
‘Got us some peanuts and crisps to keep us going,’ she said cheerfully as she handed Millie a tall, ice-cold glass with a cocktail umbrella stuck in a red cherry.
‘Thanks,’ murmured Millie, taking a sip. It was delicious. ‘What did you get?’
‘A daiquiri.’ Francesca settled on her lounger and took a slug.
‘Er … there was a phone call for you when you were gone.’
‘Oh? Who was it?’ Francesca popped a couple of peanuts into her mouth and proffered the dish to Millie.
‘Ah … um … it was Mark.’
‘Bloody hell!’ Francesca fumed. ‘Oh shit! That’s all I need. What on earth does he want?’
Chapter Thirty
‘WHAT DID HE say? What did you say to him? I bet he got a surprise to hear you at the other end of the phone,’ Francesca said grimly.
‘He didn’t know who I was at first. I had to tell him,’ Millie replied. ‘He asked where we were.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘I just said we were out and that I’d tell you to call him back. Then I hung up. I wasn’t too anxious to get into a conversation with brother-in-law dearest. He obviously doesn’t know that we’re away on holiday,’ she remarked casually.
‘I didn’t tell him.’
‘Well, why should you? It’s none of his business what you do any more.’
‘I haven’t told him that I’ve got a job either,’ Francesca said defiantly as she downed her drink.
‘That’s none of his business either,’ Millie retorted.
‘Well, I was going to tell him after a while. It’s only fair so that he can adjust my allowance,’ Francesca said slowly. ‘I just wanted to make sure that I liked the work and see that I could handle the job first.’
Millie’s face darkened. ‘Don’t call it an allowance, Francesca. It’s money you’re damn well entitled to.’
‘Ach, Millie, I hate taking his money. I feel I’m a dependant. I want to have my own money. That’s why I took the job. I want to stand on my own two feet and not be under an obligation to him. It’s horrible to feel beholden.’
‘But you’re not beholden to him, Francesca. You’re entitled to half of everything up until the time you separated anyway. And he knows that.’
‘He’s not too bad. He’s not tight with the money,’ Francesca defended her ex.
‘He’s keeping you sweet, that’s why. Francesca, he knows you could cause him plenty of hassle. Do you want to stay living in the house on your own? Would you not like a fresh start in a place that’s yours?
’ Millie persisted.
‘It would be nice, I suppose,’ Francesca admitted.
‘Well, divorce the bastard and get what you’re entitled to from the sale of the house. It’s worth a mint and at least you’ll have security at your back and a place of your own. And he’ll weep into his coffee every morning, I can guarantee that. I’m telling you, Francesca, half the separated men in Ireland who are with other women nearly had a mickey-fit when divorce was introduced there, because they were perfectly happy the way they were. And Mark’s one of them.’
‘I suppose I’d better call him back and see what’s up.’
‘Don’t be in a rush.’ Millie sniffed. ‘I’d let him cool his heels. In fact I wouldn’t even bother to return his call until you get back.’
‘Well, I’d prefer to call him now and get it over and done with. Otherwise I’ll be lying here on edge wondering what’s up,’ Francesca said mildly.
‘You’re too soft with him, Francesca. You let him away with murder,’ Millie said crossly.
She laughed at her sister’s indignation. ‘He’s not the devil incarnate, Millie.’
‘Listen to you defending him. Can’t you see he’s controlling you? I just don’t like to see him pulling your strings. Take a bit of control back,’ her sister advised bluntly.
‘He’s not controlling me,’ Francesca said hotly.
‘Well, we’re looking at it from different sides of the fence,’ Millie retorted.
Francesca scowled. She hadn’t come on holiday to be lectured by Millie. And blast Mark for calling her and ruining the lovely relaxing tenor of their afternoon. She picked up her phone and dialled his number.
‘Hi. Millie gave you the message,’ he said silkily.
‘Yes! What’s the problem?’ Her frosty tone let him know that she was not interested in polite chit-chat.
‘Viv Cassidy phoned me. She was looking for you to play a game of mixed doubles. Said she hadn’t seen you around at home and couldn’t get you on the phone. So she rang me hoping I could give you the message,’ Mark explained patiently.
‘Did she now? Well she won’t get me at home because I’m not at home. I’m in Portugal,’ Francesca snapped.
‘Oh! You never told me you were going away.’ He sounded miffed.
‘Why should I? It’s none of your business,’ Francesca said coldly. Millie gave her the thumbs up.
‘Don’t be such an ungracious cow, Francesca,’ Mark exploded. ‘If you’d have told me you were going I could have given you something extra in this month’s cheque, that’s all. I was only trying to be nice. I’m sure a few extra bob would have come in handy.’
‘Mark, I don’t need your charity and please don’t ring me again unless it’s absolutely necessary,’ Francesca raged, furious at being made to feel like a pauper yet again.
‘Francesca Kirwan, you’re a childish, ungrateful, self-centred—’
Francesca didn’t wait to hear the rest of his diatribe. She hung up and flung her phone into the bag. ‘Patronizing bastard!’ she hissed wrathfully.
Millie raised an eyebrow.
‘He said I should have told him that I was going on holiday so that he could have given me a bit extra in this month’s cheque. He thinks a few extra bob might have come in handy.’
‘Magnanimous of him,’ drawled Millie, biting into a cherry.
‘Then when I told him I didn’t want his charity—’
‘I enjoyed that bit,’ Millie interjected, eyes twinkling.
‘He launched into a tirade of abuse and said I was selfish, ungrateful and childish. The bloody nerve of him. That’s when I hung up.’ Francesca glowered at her sister.
‘Francesca, do yourself a favour. Get out of it,’ Millie advised.
‘Oh, let’s forget it for the time being,’ Francesca said wearily. ‘I came on holiday to relax, not to be thinking about the mess I’m in.’
‘You’re not in a mess. You’re doing fine,’ Millie soothed. ‘And now I’m going to get us another drink, and after that we’re going to go up and open a bottle of wine and sit on our fabulous balcony and get the last rays and then we’re going to find somewhere nice to eat and then we’re going on the piss. How about that?’
Francesca managed a weak smile. ‘I’m exhausted already, listening to you.’
‘Oh, come on. Cheer up. I think I’d like a margarita. I’ll get us a pitcher and we’ll take it from there.’ Millie leaped up from her lounger with a gleam in her eye. ‘I haven’t been on the tear in yonks. It’s just what we need.’
‘You’ll get no arguments from me.’ Francesca drained her glass and handed it back to Millie.
‘That’s my girl. You’ve led too sheltered a life, that’s your problem. Fortunately I’m here to rectify that. One pitcher of margaritas coming up. Oh men of Portugal, watch out. Women on the loose.’
A pair of gangly, spotty teenage boys walked past their loungers on their way to the pool. ‘Want to grow up quick, boys?’ Millie murmured giddily.
Francesca burst out laughing as Millie sashayed up to the bar. She was irrepressible. Just the tonic Francesca needed. Mark’s impertinence had really got to her, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on it. She was damned if she was going to let him ruin her holiday.
Mark capped and uncapped the fountain pen in his hand. He was raging. It was time Francesca was given a good talking to. She was living on the pig’s back thanks to him and she wasn’t one bit grateful. It was nice for her to be able to swan off to Portugal on his hard-earned cash, he fumed. Didn’t she realize that she wouldn’t have the cushy lifestyle she had if it wasn’t for his damn hard work?
When she came back off her holiday he was going to have it out with her. She could start being civil and treating him with a modicum of respect. It was the least he deserved, he thought self-righteously. That was one thing about Nikki, she paid her way and expected nothing from him financially. And he really admired her for it, Mark thought angrily. Francesca was a bloody parasite with no manners and she could get lost. She might change her tune if the monthly cheque wasn’t lodged in her account once or twice. She might show a bit of politeness then. He daydreamed of Francesca ringing to ask for her money and he being gracious and suave, the way he was with clients, telling her that he’d see to it eventually as he was up to his eyes. It would be good for her to know that she wasn’t the centre of the universe.
Not that he could really go down that road, he thought regretfully. She might start making waves and he needed that like he needed a hole in the head. Mark flung his pen onto his desk and got up and walked over to the window, his face set and hard. He was totally pissed off with Francesca and her damned rudeness. He was going to give her a good talking to, nevertheless.
Enough was enough.
Chapter Thirty-one
‘ISN’T THIS LOVELY?’ Francesca inhaled the fragrant night air, scented with jasmine and honeysuckle. It was the last night of their holiday. They were sitting in the courtyard of a small, family-owned restaurant and the smell and sound of sizzling steak, lamb and pork drifted from the huge barbecue pit as the chef seared the meat and the smoke rose to waft under the noses of the hungry diners.
Francesca speared a chunk of fresh tuna from her tuna salad starter and ate it appreciatively. ‘It’s so tasty. God! I’ve put on a stone since we discovered this place,’ she moaned. The Casa Velha restaurant was just across the road from their apartment block and they had discovered it on the third night of their holiday. They’d eaten there ever since, the food was so delicious.
Millie pronged a luscious fat prawn, smothered in the most divine sauce she had ever tasted and drooled over it. ‘Do I have to go home? Do I have to get in front of a cooker again and cook? Francesca, this week has been paradise.’
‘Yeah, it’s been great, hasn’t it? Millie, thanks so much for booking it. I’ve really enjoyed myself.’
‘Oh, don’t thank me.’ Millie laughed. ‘I was just using you as an excuse to get away. It’s been absolute
bliss.’
‘It has been fun,’ her sister agreed. ‘It’s the first time I’ve laughed and really enjoyed myself since … well, you know.’ Francesca made a face.
‘I know.’ Millie reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘And it’s only the beginning. You stick with me, babe … fun’s my middle name.’
‘Mad is your middle name,’ Francesca teased.
‘Why don’t you come to France with us for a week in August when we take the gîte?’ Millie suggested as the waiter cleared away the first course.
‘I don’t think I could, really. It wouldn’t be fair on Ken. I’m not in the job a wet week. Maybe I might get over for a long weekend. We’ll see.’
‘Tsk. I forgot you’re working now. Dang!’ Millie took a sip of wine.
‘That’s me: Francesca Kirwan, Career Woman,’ Francesca said cheerfully as the waiter placed a platter of medallions of pork and sauté potatoes and mixed vegetables in front of her.
‘I’ll drink to that,’ giggled Millie, taking another slug of wine. ‘You know something? I’m tipsy. It’s dreadful. I’m turning into a lush!’
‘Now, we’re not drinking as much as we did the first night we went out,’ Francesca warned.
‘Oh, don’t remind me!’ groaned Millie as she tucked into her swordfish. ‘That was the mother and father of a hangover the next day, wasn’t it? I never saw you green in the face before. But we did have extenuating circumstances,’ she pointed out, topping up Francesca’s glass.
‘True,’ Francesca conceded as she ate a mouthful of succulent pork. ‘Mark is definitely an extenuating circumstance. Oooh, this is mouth-watering, Millie, have a taste,’ she offered.
‘I don’t mind if I do.’ Millie took a forkful of meat and savoured it. ‘It’s scrumptious. I wish I could kidnap the chef and bring him home with me. Maybe I could seduce him. Lord above, Francesca, how are we going to get back to real life?’
‘With great difficulty,’ Francesca assured her solemnly as the wine began to kick in and she could feel giddiness bubble up. She gave a little giggle.
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