Francesca's Party

by Patricia Scanlan

  The mews lived up to the auctioneer’s description. Its outside appearance was deceptive. She’d thought it looked quite small but when she stepped into the airy hall she was pleasantly surprised. A spacious lounge ran the width of the house. Wooden maple floors and floor to ceiling French windows that led to a landscaped courtyard gave a sense of light and spaciousness that appealed to Francesca. The walls were painted a warm buttercup that lent a cosy air of warmth and Francesca decided that if she bought the mews she’d keep the colour scheme. The small but well-equipped kitchen with its Shaker-style presses led to a small dining room that opened out onto the courtyard.

  Upstairs the master bedroom, with a delightful window seat, had an en suite and a well-designed, roomy, fitted wardrobe. The other two bedrooms were small but tastefully decorated but far less commodious than those Owen and Jonathan were used to at home.

  ‘They’re a bit on the small side,’ she said doubtfully to Millie who was oohing and aahing in delight.

  ‘Would you get a grip, Francesca? Jonathan and Owen have cut the apron strings. They’re not children any more. They’re adults and they’re making lives of their own now and eventually that will include homes of their own. What’s the point in having huge big bedrooms empty for months at a time? If that’s the case you might as well stay where you are,’ Millie pointed out reasonably. ‘Francesca, this place is gorgeous. It’s ideal for you. You’d be mad not to put in an offer.’

  ‘Do you think?’ Francesca poked her head around the bathroom door. ‘It’s so modern. Look at the shower.’

  ‘Look at the tiles,’ Millie enthused, running her hand over the hand-painted floral design. ‘I’d love to live in a house like this. My semi-d. is so boring in comparison.’

  A couple edged past them into the bathroom. ‘I want it,’ they heard the woman say.

  ‘Tough,’ muttered Millie, ‘so does my sister.’

  ‘Stop it, Millie.’ Francesca giggled.

  ‘Get down there to that estate agent right this minute and tell him that you’ll give him the asking price and under no circumstances is he to sell it to anyone else,’ Millie ordered. ‘And this time I’m being bossy for all the right reasons.’

  ‘I know. You’re right. Let’s go,’ Francesca said decisively.

  ‘Atta, girl. Go, girl, go!’ Millie practically pushed her down the stairs so eager was she for Francesca to secure the mews.

  Stephen Boyle, the estate agent, was brisk and professional when Francesca told him that she’d pay the asking price, subject to contract and loan approval and asked that he wouldn’t let the property go to anyone else.

  ‘The vendors are looking for a quick sale, Mrs Kirwan. If we have a cash buyer immediately, I’m afraid I’ll have to let it go.’

  ‘Look, hang on to it for a day or two until I sort something out,’ Francesca said firmly.

  ‘I’ll keep you abreast of all developments,’ he promised.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Millie asked. ‘It’s a pity your place isn’t sold. You could have given him cash then.’

  ‘I’ll have a chat with Mark. Maybe he could organize something with the bank until we’ve sold our own place,’ Francesca said.

  ‘Being a bit optimistic, aren’t you?’ Millie remarked as they walked back to the car.

  ‘Maybe. What else can I do? I don’t have that kind of cash.’

  ‘You could get a loan,’ Millie suggested.

  ‘I know enough about banking to know that I wouldn’t get next or near that kind of money with the collateral I have to offer,’ Francesca said drily. ‘Mark’s my only hope.’

  ‘That’s bloody ironic, isn’t it?’ Millie said in disgust as she sat in the car.

  ‘I suppose I better get it over and done with. At least it will show him that I’m serious,’ Francesca said glumly as she started the ignition. It was infuriating to know that this momentous decision about her future would be influenced by her husband and whether or not he was prepared to be helpful. The sooner she had cut all financial ties with him the better, she thought grimly as she drove along the seafront and watched the sun glittering on the grey-green sea. She liked the area, she wanted to live here, she’d seen the house she wanted to buy and it bloody well depended on Mark. Life was damn unfair, she was getting the short straw all the time, and she was heartily sick of it. If Mark got stroppy she was going to lose the house and there was nothing she could do about it. And if she lost it because of him she’d never speak to him again and she’d take him to the bloody cleaners in the divorce case, she vowed as she turned right for Blackrock.

  ‘I wonder would he be in the apartment? It’s somewhere off Mount Merrion Avenue.’ She spoke her thoughts aloud.

  ‘Would you go and knock on the door?’ Millie was taken aback.

  Francesca made a face. ‘I wouldn’t fancy running into that Nikki one. I’d like to sort something out with him as soon as possible though.’

  ‘Why don’t you ring him and ask him to meet you? You can drop me off at a Dart station,’ Millie suggested.

  ‘That’s not very fair,’ protested Francesca. ‘I asked you to come looking at houses with me, I don’t want to be doing the hot-potato act on you.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. I’m only five minutes from Sutton Dart station and this is important. Go and ring him,’ Millie ordered.

  ‘Yes, boss,’ Francesca said drily.

  ‘Sorry,’ Millie held up her hands in mock surrender. ‘Won’t do it again.’

  Francesca dialled Mark’s mobile and felt suddenly nervous as she heard the ringing tone. It was galling to have to be civil when she’d walked out so snootily after their last encounter.

  ‘It’s me,’ she said peremptorily when he answered the phone.

  ‘I recognized your number,’ Mark said coolly.

  ‘I need to talk to you and I happen to be in Blackrock. I was wondering if you could meet me? I know it’s short notice but something’s come up.’

  ‘Are the boys OK?’ he said sharply.

  ‘They’re fine. It’s nothing to do with them. It’s about what we were discussing the other day,’ Francesca said hastily.

  ‘Oh!’ Mark sounded wary.

  ‘Look, can you meet me or not?’ Francesca was losing patience.

  ‘Excuse me. I need to have a word with Nikki.’ He pressed the mute button and Francesca felt a surge of rage. How dare he press the mute button on her? How dare he make her feel so excluded? she thought irrationally.

  ‘I hope that bastard gets his come-uppance some day,’ she fumed. Millie’s eyebrows rose. ‘He’s having a word with Nikki. I’ve been put on hold,’ Francesca informed her in fury.

  ‘Stay calm. Breathe deep. Think of that lovely mews,’ Millie soothed.

  Mark came back on the line. ‘Where do you want to meet?’

  ‘Er … er … mmm.’ Francesca was caught off guard. ‘I could meet you outside your apartment complex, save you taking out the car,’ she suggested.

  ‘Fine. Ring me when you’re there. It’s halfway down on your right as you’re coming from Blackrock,’ her husband said curtly.

  ‘OK.’ Francesca hung up. ‘Oh God, Millie, I’m dreading this,’ she groaned.

  ‘Well, I’ll stay if you’d like me to, Francesca, but I don’t think it would help your case very much,’ Millie offered. ‘And I can’t guarantee that I wouldn’t clock him one.’

  Francesca laughed. ‘Thanks, Millie, but my nerves are fragile enough as it is. Much as I’d enjoy watching you give Mark a sock in the chops, this isn’t quite the appropriate time for aggro.’

  ‘Unfortunately,’ Millie said regretfully. ‘Drop me off outside the shopping centre, you can turn left into Mount Merrion Avenue and I can cross through the park for the Dart. And ring me as soon as it’s over.’

  ‘I will,’ promised Francesca.

  Five minutes later she was stopped outside the impressive black gates that led into the apartment complex. She wondered which one was Nikki’s as she diall
ed Mark’s mobile.

  ‘That was quick, I’m on my way,’ he said crisply.

  Francesca sat waiting for him, myriad emotions churning inside. Did she ever think that she’d be waiting on her husband to come to her from another woman’s apartment? An apartment that he now called home. How had this nightmare happened? She felt overwhelmed with sadness as she saw him stroll along the footpath towards the car, dressed in a pair of chinos and a pale cream Lacoste short-sleeved shirt. He always wore his clothes well, she thought with a pang of loneliness.

  ‘Hi,’ she murmured, subdued, as he opened the door and got into the car.

  ‘Hello,’ he said cautiously. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I’ve seen a place that I want to buy. But I need the cash quickly,’ she blurted.

  ‘What!’ he said, aghast. ‘Francesca, what’s the big rush with you? I don’t think you’ve thought out the implications of all of this. You can’t really want to sell the house.’

  ‘I do,’ she said emphatically, her heart sinking. What kind of a fool was she? Had she really thought that he was going to say OK, Francesca, here’s the cash, or I’ll sort out a short-term loan for you?

  ‘Do you want to buy out my share?’ she demanded truculently.

  ‘Are you mad, Francesca? It’s crazy to expect me to shell out a fortune for my own home when I paid off the mortgage years ago,’ Mark said angrily. ‘It’s more than trebled in value since we bought it. It would be ludicrous to spend money like that.’

  ‘Look, Mark, it’s not your home any more. That was a choice you made when you had an affair with that woman. I had no choice in the matter, you did.’

  ‘You kicked me out, I’d no choice in that,’ he muttered.

  ‘What did you think I was going to do, let you stay and conduct your sordid little affair under my nose?’ Francesca snapped.

  ‘You never gave me a chance to try and work it out,’ Mark accused.

  ‘Why would I want to work it out, you stupid bastard? You told me I was boring, remember, and that you’d felt trapped into marrying me,’ Francesca shouted, losing her temper.

  Mark threw his eyes up to heaven. ‘Oh, let’s not go through all that again.’

  ‘Look, Mark. Are you going to help me out here or not? I really like this place, and I want to make a fresh start for myself,’ Francesca demanded.

  Mark played his trump card. ‘Don’t you mind selling off the boys’ inheritance?’

  ‘That’s really low, Mark. The ultimate in emotional blackmail.’ Francesca was disgusted.

  ‘Well, it’s true,’ he blustered.

  ‘I spoke to the boys and they were more than supportive of my decision to divorce you and sell the house. Jonathan even offered to come home and help me move. Get out of my car, Mark. My solicitor will be in touch. I’ll buy a place when I get my share of the sale,’ she said contemptuously.

  ‘What else did you think they were going to say? I’m the big baddie here. Of course they’re going to take your side,’ he said bitterly.

  ‘That’s unfair, Mark,’ Francesca protested heatedly. ‘I never wanted anyone to take sides. This is between you and me and let me tell you, I did my level best to get Owen to sort things out between you before he went away.’

  ‘And I suppose you expect me to believe that?’ he sneered.

  Francesca stared at her husband in dismay. ‘You’ve turned into a horrible person, Mark.’

  ‘You’ve turned into an embittered, manipulative, selfish bitch,’ Mark swore as he opened the car door and got out.

  ‘And you’re a petty, controlling, arrogant shit,’ she shot back as she turned on the ignition and leaned over and slammed the door shut.

  With tears of anger and humiliation streaming down her face, she drove back the way she’d come, knowing that the mews wouldn’t be hers and that she had a battle on her hands to get what was rightfully hers.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  NIKKI OPENED THE balcony doors and placed her cup of coffee and a sheaf of papers on the white wrought-iron table. She’d watched Mark’s progress as far as she could, but unfortunately the apartments at the front of the complex blocked her view of the gates so she couldn’t see whether he and Francesca had driven off or were chatting in the car.

  She was determined that she wasn’t going to ask what Francesca wanted to see him for. Play it cool was her motto. Mark had been more than surprised when he’d come home from work in a foul humour the day Francesca had demanded a divorce to find Nikki preparing for a night on the tiles. She hadn’t mentioned a word about the day’s events and she knew it was bugging him. He wanted to get it off his chest but his pride wouldn’t let him bring up the subject first. She was damned if she was going to appear at all interested.

  The trouble was, she was gagging with curiosity. Why was Francesca in Blackrock and what did she want to see Mark about? Maybe she’d changed her mind about getting the divorce. Nikki’s heart sank. That would suit Mark down to the ground. He’d agree to that like a shot. It was all so bloody nerve-racking. She took a sip of coffee and picked up a draft of the report she was working on but the words meant nothing as she read the same line three times. Her concentration was zilch these days, she reflected, raising her face to the sun.

  It was warm and peaceful on the balcony. A slight breeze rustled the leaves of the poplar trees and only the sound of birdsong disturbed the silence. Nikki yawned. She was tired. She could do with a break, she felt. It had been a tough couple of months emotionally. A few days in the south of France would be good. A friend of hers had an apartment there, but it was the high season and she had probably let it for the summer.

  Where could she go? Somewhere nice and peaceful, on her own. It would have to be somewhere at home. Getting flights abroad at this late stage would be a nightmare and she didn’t want hassle. Friends of hers had a small house practically on the beach a few miles south of Brittas Bay on the Wicklow–Wexford border. Not as exotic as the south of France but it would do for a mini-break midweek.

  She had one important meeting on Monday afternoon, she could easily get off work early on Tuesday and stay until Friday. Her friends used the house every weekend in summer, she wouldn’t like to put them out. She could come back home on Friday. It might give Mark something to think about and it would give her a break from his foul humour.

  She dialled her friend Jacquie’s mobile and made her request.

  ‘Of course, come down. It’s turned nice at the moment, although we had rain all last week until yesterday. But the good weather’s supposed to last. I’ll put clean sheets on the bed for you and leave the key under the flowerpot by the back door.’ Jacquie was very hospitable. ‘Is Mark coming with you?’

  ‘No, I’m going to have a few days’ peace and quiet on my own. He’s having a spot of bother with his ex-wife and he’s like a bull,’ Nikki confided. ‘We need a bit of space right now.’

  ‘Good thinking,’ Jacquie approved. ‘Why don’t you come down this evening? We’re having a barbie.’

  ‘I can’t unfortunately, Jacquie. I’ve got a meeting that I can’t miss next Monday so I’m stuck until then. But I’ll take a half-day on Tuesday and go directly from work.’

  ‘Well, enjoy it. Stay for the weekend if you like. We’ll be down on Friday evening.’

  ‘We’ll see.’ Nikki could see Mark marching around the corner with a face like a thundercloud. ‘Jacquie, thanks a million. I have to go. I’ll be in touch,’ she said smoothly as she pretended to study the page in front of her intently. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Mark looking up but she didn’t let on that she’d noticed. A couple of minutes later she heard his key in the front door and kept her head bent as she heard his deep sighs as he flung himself onto the sofa.

  The meeting hadn’t gone well, obviously, she deduced as the sighs got even deeper. ‘There’s coffee in the percolator,’ she called through the open doors.

  ‘Don’t want it, thanks,’ he growled. Nikki kept silent. Eventually it
got too much for Mark. He came and stood at the doorway.

  ‘Come and sit down,’ she invited.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m working on my report. Will you read over it and give me your opinion when I’m finished?’

  ‘OK,’ he said unenthusiastically. Nikki felt irritation rise.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked, since it was clear that he wanted her to ask.

  ‘Nothing,’ he muttered grumpily.

  ‘Doesn’t look like that from where I’m sitting,’ she said flatly.

  ‘Oh, Francesca is such a selfish bitch,’ he raged. ‘She actually had the nerve to ask me for money to buy a place until our house is sold. I told her she was selling the boys’ inheritance and that didn’t make one iota of difference to her. She’s being most unreasonable. It’s the family home after all.’

  ‘Mark, how can you say that?’ Nikki retorted. ‘She’s not being unreasonable at all. You’re the one who’s being unreasonable. Grow up and get over it. Take responsibility for ending your marriage and stop acting like a sulky little boy who can’t have his cake and eat it.’

  ‘Well, thank you, Nikki. Whose side are you on?’ Mark was furious at her disloyalty.

  ‘It’s not a question of sides,’ she said reasonably. ‘You’ve got to face facts, Mark. It’s time to move on. She obviously wants to sort herself out and get a place of her own and she’s entitled to a half-share of the house. You’re just being a dog in the manger.’

  Mark jumped to his feet. ‘I don’t need you to tell me how to conduct my affairs, Nikki. If it wasn’t for you interfering where you weren’t wanted and putting the notion of divorce in her bloody head none of this would have happened. I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of my business, you’ve done enough harm as it is.’ He marched into the lounge, grabbed his car keys and slammed the door after him.