‘There’s no point going before lunch, because Mam won’t have got food in for us, so I suppose around two. Liz said to come over to her house between half three and four.’ Carol ran the iron over the cream linen trousers she was planning to wear.
‘Look, why don’t we drive down and stop somewhere en route for lunch? The Avoca Handweavers or Chester Beatty’s in Ashford or wherever you want,’ Gary suggested kindly.
‘Hey, that’s an idea. It would be nice to have a peaceful lunch together before we face the multitude. I’d like that.’
‘Are you not looking forward to it? I thought you women loved planning things like weddings,’ he asked in surprise, surfing the channels to see what was on.
‘Oh, I am,’ Carol fibbed. ‘It’s just that Mike and Jessie aren’t anxious to spend a fortune, naturally. They’re inclined to have quite a small wedding. Because Ray’s dead, I suppose.’
‘We can do our own thing if you want . . . I told you that before. I don’t know what the rush is. I think we’re fine as we are,’ he retorted, eyes on a sports bulletin on the TV.
‘No, no. Let’s do it. It will be fine. You don’t know any good bands, do you?’ She changed the subject hastily, not wanting him to think she was giving him any excuse to wriggle out of the wedding.
‘Yeah, I know a few. Remember that session we all went to in Swords, the Righteous Rockers?’
‘They were great. We bopped all night,’ Carol responded enthusiastically.
‘One of my brothers knows them. I can get him to give them a shout and see what they charge.’
‘Do they do weddings?’
‘Wakes, funerals, christenings, bar mitzvahs, you name it.’ Gary stretched and yawned. ‘And by the way, one of the blokes at work gave me a few samples of invitations he does on the computer. They’re good and they’re half the price of the ones you have to buy in stationery shops.’
‘Have you got the samples?’ Carol couldn’t believe that she was having this conversation with Gary. He was talking about wedding invitations. This surely was a step on the right path.
‘I’ll root them out and you can bring them with you if you want. Oh, bloody good shot,’ he enthused as a footballer landed a goal into the back of the net.
It was all going to work out OK, she should stop worrying about it, she decided as she unplugged the iron. Jessica had come around to her way of thinking about the dress suits. If she could get her to agree to the Righteous Rockers for the reception, at least they’d have a lively night.
‘Would you like anything for supper?’ she asked.
‘You,’ Gary grinned, pulling her down beside him on the sofa. ‘This is a much better flat than that last kip you were in. You should have got a place like this years ago. That copper did you a favour,’ he murmured as he slid his hand up under her T-shirt.
‘You think so?’ she said softly, loving the feel of his fingers on her skin.
‘And there’s a grand double bed in the bedroom,’ he said huskily, undoing her bra. ‘Let’s have our supper in there.’
If he hadn’t mentioned the wedding invites, Carol most likely would have refused as she normally did. But she was tired of saying no. She was as human as the next person, and a sexy, loving interlude would be balm to her weary spirit. Her constant refusal to have full sex with Gary was a source of ongoing friction between them. She was well aware that he could, and possibly did, look elsewhere. Jen had been the living proof of that. She often wondered did he see the redheaded bimbo he took to the Mid-Summer’s Ball.
‘Have you got condoms?’ She drew away from him, looking him straight in the eye.
‘Do I what?’ Gary looked at her, astonished. ‘Are we going all the way?’ he asked eagerly.
‘You sound like a gauche sixteen-year-old,’ Carol retorted, amused. ‘Come on.’
‘Oh yesss!’ Gary jumped off the sofa and punched his fist in the air. ‘You’re so sexy you drive me nuts.’
‘Do I?’ Carol murmured seductively, stepping out of her jeans. His ardour was turning her on, and now that she’d finally made the decision to sleep with him she was looking forward to it. He grabbed her and kissed her passionately and she returned his kisses ardently, allowing herself to believe that he truly did love her. It was a raunchy, wild, swift coupling that left both of them bathed in sweat as they lay, limbs wrapped around each other, exhausted after their passion.
‘It was worth the wait,’ Gary murmured against her hair once his breathing had slowed down.
‘Make the most of it, I don’t want to worry about getting preggers,’ Carol murmured, beginning to feel apprehensive now that they had finally done it. They still had three months to go to the wedding. Had she played her card too soon? True, it had been immensely satisfying. She’d enjoyed the power she had over him. Listening to his ragged breathing and excitement had been a powerful turn-on for her. But she didn’t want the novelty of it to wear off for him until she had the wedding ring firmly on her finger.
‘I wore a condom,’ he said plaintively.
‘I was at a good time in my cycle. The way you make love, I’d be petrified they’d burst. You’re very, very vigorous,’ she purred.
‘You think so?’ Gary was delighted at the compliment.
‘Umm, let’s do it again,’ Carol urged. Let him taste the ecstasy again and keep him wanting, she decided, as she tightened her long legs around him and felt him groan as he grew hard inside her.
27
Mike turned over drowsily and flung his leg over Jessica.
‘I love you. You’re gorgeous,’ he muttered, half asleep, the bed creaking under his weight.
‘Stop it, Mike!’ Jessica hissed, going rigid in his arms.
‘Wha! What’s wrong?’ Mike opened bleary eyes. ‘Oh! Oh! Sorry, I was half asleep. I forgot where I was,’ he apologized, hastily removing his leg. They lay chastely apart and then got a fit of the giggles.
‘This is ridiculous,’ Jessica murmured, conscious that her mother was in the next room. ‘Do you think it’s just us, or do other couples feel a bit peculiar doing it in their parents’ house?’
‘We could swing from chandeliers and sing arias at the top of our voices and my ma and da wouldn’t hear a thing.’ Mike grinned.
‘Well, your dad snores so loudly your ma has to wear ear plugs.’ Jessica smiled over at him.
‘Exactly!’ Mike smiled back at her. ‘It’s nice waking up together again, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, I wish we had our house.’
‘We’ll get one, don’t worry,’ he said reassuringly, stroking her cheek with his finger.
‘I wonder how will we get on today?’
‘Ah, it’ll be fine, let’s not get hyper about it. Let’s make a pact to enjoy the lead-up to our wedding and our wedding as much as we can. Because we’ll only be doing it once. OK?’ he said firmly.
‘OK,’ Jessica agreed, leaning over to kiss him. The treacherous bed creaked again.
‘I’m getting up.’ Jessica laughed. ‘My nerves are shot. I’m going to buy a new mattress for this bed. It came out of the ark.’
‘It was kind of your mother to put the double bed in your room for us, lots of mothers wouldn’t be that enlightened,’ Mike said.
‘I know, she’s great. I still couldn’t do it though,’ Jessica said regretfully. ‘Not even when we’re married.’
‘We could do it standing up,’ Mike suggested.
‘No!’
‘I’m horny.’
‘Me too, but I’m not doing it.’
‘Will we do it in the shower?’
‘No! I’m going to make the tea.’
‘Spoilsport.’ Mike threw a pillow at her.
‘But ya love me,’ Jessica said smugly. ‘After breakfast will we scoot over to Lidl and get a couple of bottles of wine for this afternoon? Maybe Carol might lighten up and have one.’
‘Yeah, but isn’t her mother coming? And doesn’t she have a bit of trouble with alcohol?’ Mike reminded her.
‘Jeepers, yeah. I forgot. Nix that idea.’ Jessica hopped out of bed, relieved that thanks to Mike she hadn’t made an appalling faux pas. ‘I hope she won’t be on the piss this afternoon.’
‘We’ll have a good strong pot of coffee brewing,’ Mike suggested. ‘And I’ll make it! Mind, if she was under the weather, she mightn’t notice if it was made with gravy granules,’ he teased.
‘Rotter!’ Jessica giggled as she slipped into her dressing-gown and went down to the kitchen to put the kettle on for the tea.
* * *
Liz smiled as she heard the bed creaking and Jessica and Mike laughing and giggling in the room next to her. It was wonderful that they were so crazy about each other. She really ought to get a new bed for them to spare their blushes. There was nothing worse than a creaking bed when you weren’t in your own house. She and Ray had been just like them once, she thought enviously. Madly in love and unable to keep their hands off each other. Sadness darkened her eyes as loneliness smote her.
Was it because of the forthcoming wedding that her loneliness felt so intense? she wondered dolefully. Would she ever get a handle on it? Would she ever be in control of it rather than it being in control of her? When did that point arrive in widowhood?
It was going to be hard walking up that aisle with Jessica. She was truly dreading it. In fact, she wasn’t looking forward to this wedding one bit.
Nancy probably felt exactly the same, she thought with a pang of sympathy for Carol’s mother. She too would be at the wedding unaccompanied. It was probably just as hard for her. What joy did she have in life? Very little, as far as Liz could see.
At least she and Jessica were very close. Nancy and Carol had a very fraught relationship, and Nadine was nothing but a source of worry to her. No wonder the poor woman had turned to the bottle.
She hoped that her neighbour wouldn’t be hostile this afternoon. Hopefully she and Carol had discussed the forthcoming wedding. Surely they must have by now, Liz mused, pulling her quilt up under her chin.
She was reluctant to get up and face the day. Sunlight splashed on to her bed from her Velux window. It was another lovely bright morning. All the indications were that it was going to be another scorcher. She could set the patio table and serve afternoon tea outside. That might be more relaxing for Nancy and Carol, rather than sitting perched on the sofa trying to balance cups and plates on knees.
She’d made a lemon sponge, scones and a tea-brack, and she’d make some dainty ham and cucumber sandwiches. That should surely be enough. She heard Jessica going downstairs. Her daughter was on edge about this meeting, as she was herself. The Logans were so volatile. Planning a wedding was stressful enough without having to cope with that lot.
Her lips tightened. Carol was terribly manipulative and always had been since they were small children. She was the bossy boots. She was the one who had always played on Jessica’s soft heart and got her own way. It had infuriated Liz. She’d told her daughter to stand up for herself. Poor old Jessie had always done the running. Carol said jump and Jessie said, ‘How high?’
She’d taken Carol to task often when they were children, but Carol listened to no one, not even to this day. Whatever Carol wanted, Carol got, even though the younger woman would deny that vehemently if it were put to her. Carol was completely centred on herself. And why wouldn’t the poor unfortunate be? Liz thought ruefully. She’d had it tough as a child. Bossing Jessie around probably gave her the only feeling of control she had in her shattered life. But her childish bossiness had carried on into adulthood, and Jessie had tried to distance herself but could never quite succeed. Carol held on tightly, reluctant to let go. At least Jessie had not succumbed to the intense emotional pressure Carol had put on her to let her move into the house with herself and Katie. But she’d felt mean about it. She’d felt guilty as Carol did her usual ‘poor me’ carry-on. Carol did ‘poor me’ better than anyone. The chip she carried on her shoulder grew heavier and heavier. Her unhappy childhood had marked her and damaged her, but that wasn’t Jessica’s burden to carry and never had been.
Liz bit her lip. She should have put her foot down about the wedding at the beginning when Jessica had asked her to intervene. But it was so hard to say no to Carol. You always felt you were being mean; she had that subtle way of making you feel guilty. Even as a child she’d been able to do it. What was it called? Liz racked her brain for a phrase she’d heard that described Carol’s behaviour perfectly. Passive . . . something. Passive aggressive, that was it. If there was one person who typified that behaviour it was Carol Logan, and Liz was full sure there’d be plenty of passive aggressive behaviour this afternoon. Well, Carol was going to have to deal with it, Liz decided. Because today, she wasn’t going to get her own way with everything and if Jessica wouldn’t say no to plans that didn’t suit, Liz damn well would, she thought grimly, throwing back her covers and padding downstairs to join her daughter.
* * *
It took Gary a moment or two to recognize that he was in a strange bed, in a strange bedroom and the sound of running water meant that someone was having a shower. He stretched, yawned, rubbed his hand over his stubbly jaw and glanced at his watch. Eight thirty on a Sunday morning, what an unearthly hour to be awake.
Then he remembered. He’d spent the night with Carol. He wasn’t dreaming, was he? he wondered for a moment, remembering wild, passionate lovemaking. No, he assured himself, he hadn’t been dreaming. It had all happened. He and Carol had finally had proper sex and it had been great. He’d worn down her resistance, as he’d always known he would. It felt good.
She’d enjoyed it too. He’d turned her on. Gary liked giving his women pleasure. It made him feel good about himself. He still had it, he thought proudly. It would be a sad day when he couldn’t get the woman he wanted.
Carol had dropped that copper like a hot potato and come running back to him. As it should be. He scowled. An unwelcome insidious thought seeped into his mind. Had the sex Carol had had with the clodhopper country boy been as good as the sex she’d had with him? Had she lain in Gary’s arms last night and compared and contrasted technique and staying power? His feeling of well-being dissipated somewhat as jealousy flooded his veins. His jaw tightened. Maybe she’d had sex with him because the sex was so good with that Sean fella and she’d been hungry for it. It was a bit strange that after all this time putting him off she suddenly capitulated.
Another thought struck him. Maybe she was bloody well pregnant and was going to pretend that he was the father. Women could be very, very devious. There was no doubt about it. He was no fool. And he was damned if he was going to rear another man’s child.
* * *
Carol dried herself vigorously, eager to get on the road and start jogging. She liked running on Sunday mornings. Having the streets and footpaths to herself enhanced the aura of well-being and sense of omnipotence that running gave her. When she was running she felt in total control of her life. The only time she did, she thought wryly as she slipped on her sports bra and pulled on her tracksuit bottoms.
The sun was glinting in through the bubble glass in the bathroom and through the open top window she could hear the sound of birdsong. It was another lovely day. If all went well at Liz’s wedding summit, she and Gary might manage a walk along the Wildlife Reserve overlooking Arklow Bay. He’d been fast asleep when she slid out of bed; limbs sprawled to the four corners of the bed. Gary could sleep in until midday and later if she let him. They were completely different in that regard. She was a lark, he was an owl. She could never stay in bed once she woke up. She had to be up and at it. She supposed she should have stayed in bed and enjoyed a kiss and a cuddle and breakfast on trays like Mike and Jessica did, but she’d been anxious to get a run in before she went home. She always felt her day had balance when she’d had her jog. She smoothed on some tinted moisturizer, traced some lipstick across her lips and padded into the bedroom to get her trainers.
‘Oh, you’re awake. I thought you’d
be dead to the world still,’ she said, surprised to see Gary yawning his head off.
‘Where are you off to?’ he asked grumpily.
‘Going for a jog.’ Carol sat on the side of the bed and pulled on her trainers.
‘What about my brekkie?’ Gary was wholly unimpressed.
‘What about it? Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.’ She laughed at his disgruntled expression.
‘Huh! Yoghurts and muesli. Are you not going to cook me a big fry-up?’
‘No I’m not cooking you a big fry-up, my darling. I don’t want you flattened by high cholesterol. I don’t want to be a young widow.’ She grinned. ‘I’m only thinking of you. Come on for a jog with me?’
‘At this hour of the morning? I’m going back to sleep,’ Gary snorted.
‘OK, sleep well, I won’t be that long. It’s such a cracker of a day we’d want to give ourselves a bit of leeway. Traffic could be heavy.’
‘OK.’ Gary burrowed down under the duvet. ‘Enjoy your jog. By the way,’ he sat up again, ‘what did you mean you were at a good point in your cycle last night?’
‘What?’ Carol looked at him in amazement.
‘That thing about your cycle. You couldn’t get pregnant, could you?’
‘No, I’m not ovulating,’ she explained patiently.
‘Oh!’ he said. ‘And when do you get a period?’
‘In about twenty-five days’ time, Gary. Can I go now? I need to get my skates on,’ she said, bemused. Surely with all his experience of women he understood the ins and outs of a woman’s cycle?
‘See you,’ he said, lying back down again, tanned and muscular against the white pillows.
She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. ‘Go to sleep, sexy, see you later.’
‘OK,’ he said, staring at her stomach.
‘Toned, isn’t it,’ she said smugly, proud of her supple physique.
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