David could hear the annoyance in her voice. “Well, you know Ellie,” he said, trying to pour oil on troubled waters. “She’s been dreaming of this wedding since she was ten years old.”
Yes, and any man would slot in as the groom, Sandrine wanted to say, but she held her tongue. “Well, it’s your wedding too,” she told him. “Don’t you have any say in it?”
“Oh, you know me. Anything for a quiet life. Anyway, it’s Ellie’s wedding, I’m just getting married,” he joked.
“I honestly think you spoil her too much, David. You really should put your foot down sometimes.”
“Ah, don’t worry. She just wants everything to be perfect.She agreed to us buying this house I found in Sandymount. Did she tell you?”
“Yes. I don’t know how you managed it. At least you’ve prevailed there, thank God for that!”
“Don’t be too hard on her, Sandrine. You know what a romantic she is. You and I are different. We’re realists. We have our feet on the ground.”
Sandrine’s only reply was a snort.
33
Carl had been waiting twenty minutes in the Merrion Inn when Zita sailed in, looking cool and collected and ten minutes late.
“Hi,” she said, proffering her hand.
He took it but what he wanted more than anything was to kiss those tempting lips. However, he followed her cue and kept it formal. He’d already met quite a few people he knew. That was the damn problem with being in the public eye. One couldn’t be too careful. He’d have no problem explaining why he was with Zita. He would say that he was discussing the TV show she was doing on his wife. But kissing her in public was another matter.
“You look great,” he said, admiring the nonchalant way she shrugged off her brown-leather aviator jacket. Dressed in a man’s pinstripe shirt with pale denim jeans ripped at the knees, her face void of make-up, she somehow was more alluring than any of the glamorous, model-type birds seated all around. Zita was an original and he liked that.
She asked for a pint of Guinness which amused him and he ordered one for himself too. She continued coolly to behave as if this was a business meeting, ignoring the fact that he had been pestering her for two weeks. She was something else, he thought, impressed by her composure.
“Rachel did a very good interview yesterday. She’s quite a natural in front of the camera,” she began.
He watched her lips as she spoke, not really hearing what she was saying. She occasionally licked the froth of the Guinness from her upper lip which he thought was the most erotic gesture he’d ever seen. He tried to concentrate on her words.
“Of course, I will only be the assistant producer,” she sighed, “and the producer, Jason, is a total incompetent. God knows what ideas he’ll come up with.”
“How did he get to be producer then?” Carl asked although he knew already. He wanted to hear it from her.
“Well, we were both up for the job but he, unfortunately, used political influence and landed the position.”
“How come?”
She explained then aboutthe chauvinist hierarchy that existed in the TV world and how Jason had been promoted unfairly.
Carl was sympathetic. “I know that kind of thing happened a lot under the last government. Happily the voters recognised this and voted them out.” He grinned. “Luckily for me and my party.”
He really is very sexy when he smiles, Zita thought.
“Could I do anything to help you with this?” he asked her, apparently oblivious to the irony of making such an offer. “I may have some influence at the station.”
Zita drew in her breath. She could hardly believe it. This was her reason for targeting him but she hadn’t thought it would be quite so easy.
“That would be wonderful.” She smiled up at him from under her long black lashes and squeezed his hand. Her touch was electric on his skin.
“Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can do,” he assured her, wanting to take her to bed right there and then.
“I would really appreciate that. I’d be ever so grateful.”
He smiled, thinking of how she had parroted his wife. She looked at him boldly then lowered her lashes so that her seductive cat-like eyes were half closed. He was in no doubt what she meant. If this was what it took to have her then he was willing to move heaven and earth to get it for her. She was the most exciting woman he’d ever met. He had to have her.
They ordered two more pints and made small talk but both were aware of the chemistry between them.
He’s surprisingly naïve, Zita thought – for a politician, that is. His boyish charm was seductive and she found herself relaxing and laughing at his anecdotes. He really was the best company. Shewas surprised to be enjoying herself so much and underneath the surface was the promise of a sexual encounter in the future.
With a shock she saw that it was after eight o’clock. “Oh my goodness!” She jumped up. “I’m supposed to be meeting Marcus at eight for dinner. Sorry, I have to run.” She extended her hand again but Carl ignored it and, reaching forward, kissed her on the cheek. He wanted to inhale her scent and keep it with him. It was reckless but he didn’t care. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long, long time.
“I’ll be in touch,” he whispered in her ear. “I hope to see you again very soon and next time we’ll have dinner together.”
Pulling away from him, she gave him a mysterious smile. “We’ll see.”
With that she was gone. Carl felt empty after she’d left. It was as if a light had gone out inside him. He’d never felt like that about a woman before. She was quite remarkable.
34
Ellie was chatting to David on Thursday evening when he mentioned Sandrine.
“I think maybe you were a bit hard on her. She really only wants to help, you know.”
“What?” Ellie shrieked. “What do you know about it?”
“She rang me yesterday. She was upset that you wouldn’t listen to her suggestions.”
“How dare she keep going to you behind my back! I can’t believe it! And I did listen to her ridiculous suggestions. She wanted the bridesmaids to wear black. Black! It’s not a goddamn funeral – it’s a wedding.”
“Well, black might not be such a bad –”
“I will decide what my bridesmaids wear and if Miss Smartypants doesn’t like it, well, she needn’t be a bridesmaid at all.” Ellie was near to tears. “And now you can call her back and repeat everything I’ve said.”
“Ah, Ellie –” he started but she’d hung up on him.
She was incensed. What a little sneak Sandrine was, appealing to David indeed. Did she think he’d get Ellie to agree to her wearing black? Well, I’ll let her know in no uncertain terms that she’d better not try and bully me. She sighed. Sisters! Who’d have them? All of a sudden she felt sorry for Kim Kardashian. She’d had to suffer at the hands of her sister too but at least her sister had some kindness in her and a sense of humour. She thought of Rachel who said she’d always longed for a sister. Well, she didn’t know how damn lucky she was! She’d donate Sandrine to her any day!
Rachel had spent the evening at a lingerie party organised by the wife of one of Carl’s constituency workers and was obviously the worse for wear when she arrived home at eleven.
“Hello, dahling,” she said as she weaved her way into the room, her words slurring. “Look what I got,” she giggled, stumbling a little as she held up the racy black bra and thong she’d bought. He looked at her, disgusted, as she poured herself a gin and tonic before joining him, tripping over the mat and almost falling as she located the sofa. “Oops-a-daisy!” she giggled again.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” Carl asked.
“Don’t be such a sport spoil – ohhh – I mean sporl . . . oh, what the hell, you know what I mean.” She pealed with laughter.
Carl had never seen her so bad. “Just what have you been drinking?” he demanded to know, his voice cold.
“Cock . . .tails, an . . . tequil
a . . . an canna rememmmber.”
She had trouble getting this last word out and Carl realised that she was totally pissed. What a lethal cocktail of drinks she’d consumed. Had she no cop-on?
“I think you should quit now and go to bed,” he suggested, taking her glass from her.
She grabbed it back, so forcibly that half the contents spilled all over her. She giggled again.
Carl sighed. There was no point in trying to talk sense to her now. He waited till she drained the glass and then gently he took it from her. Then he half carried her up the stairs where she fell on the bed, fully clothed. He covered her up and then left to sleep in the guest room, looking in on Jacob and Becky on the way.
Tomorrow he would have to talk to her. Her drinking was getting totally out of control. He was worried.
The following morning she was still sleeping when he left for work. When he got home there was a message to say that she’d taken the children to a school-friend’s birthday party. That evening Carl had to attend the removal of an old friend and by the time he got home Rachel was in bed. The empty bottle of wine on the kitchen counter told him all that he needed to know.
Come what may, he would have to have a serious talk with her about her drinking.
35
Ronan was expecting to hear from Louise every day but he received not a word. She might just as well have vanished off the face of the earth. It was a weird feeling. They’d lived together for fifteen years and then in the flash of an eye she was gone. In one way, his life had become more peaceful without the constant arguing and the uncertainty of never knowing what she was going to do, not to mention her spending sprees.
He had a lot of support, of course. Conor and Betty were being rock solid and there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t thank Sam for his kindness. Without the job in the wine shop he would have gone crazy, pure crazy. Keeping busy was the best thing for him and the shop certainly took care of that. Dermot was on holiday so he was doubly busy and grateful for it.
Jim rang him every day and he met him for a pint the nights he wasn’t working or at Conor’s or at his wine course.
He’d been very surprised when Rachel had popped into the shopto ask how he was doing.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to you on Monday night but I was talking to Zita and when I looked around you were gone. Is everything okay? You didn’t seem like yourself. I’ve been worried about you all week.”
He was touched by her concern.
“That’s very kind of you. I was pretty shell-shocked last Monday night because Louise left me over the weekend.”
“Left you?” Rachel sounded shocked.
“Yes. She’s met someone else apparently,” he told her, trying to sound upbeat about it.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry. How awful for you!” She reached over and gave him a hug just as a customer came into the shop.
“Sorry, I’ll have to go,” he explained, slightly embarrassed yet touched by her concern.
“Look, why don’t you come to supper next week? We’ll arrange a date when we meet next Monday. Then we can have a good chat.”
“That would be lovely. Thanks, Rachel. I really appreciate your dropping in.”
“See you then,” she smiled, waving as she left.
Fiona was, as always, a soothing influence. Nothing seemed to faze her and Ronan figured that if with all her problems she could cope alone and still keep smiling then he could surely do the same.
She came down to the shop on Friday afternoon, walking slower than usual.
“You okay?” he asked.
She grimaced. “I had an awful night. I was having contractions and I thought for a while that I was in labour but they stopped early this morning.”
“That must have been scary.” Ronan was very concerned about her. “I really think it’s time you went and stayed with your mother.”
“Yeah, she’s saying pretty much the same thing. I suppose you’re right. Much as I love my independence, last night gave me a right fright.”
“I can imagine. When will you go?”
“I was going to ask you if you could help me move my things. I don’t have much but Mam’s car is tiny and she suffers with a bad back.” She patted her stomach. “And I’m not exactly in any condition to lug stuff around.”
“Don’t you even think about it! Where does your mam live?”
“In Blessington. It’s not too far for you, is it?” she asked anxiously.
“Course not. Would Sunday morning be okay?”
“Perfect,” she grinned. “Mam will be relieved.”
They high-fived each other. He was happy to be able to help her out. She had become a good friend and he’d miss their daily chats, but it was better that she should go.
Carl never did get a chance to have that chat with Rachel. It had been a crazy week. He’d been going hard at it from early morning till late at night every single day and had hardly seen anything of her or the kids. She was right – they had become like ships that pass in the night. Well, he’d make it up to her in France. A whole month with nothing whatsoever to worry about.
On Friday morning he had arranged to meet up with the Director of Programmes at the TV station. They knew each other quite well as he was a supporter of the party. Carl suggested, ever so subtly, that Zita was the best person for promotion to the job in question. The director, knowing which side his bread was buttered on, readily agreed with him. It would be very handy to have an influential member of the government owing him one.
He called Zita into his office that very afternoon and informed her that she was being promoted. She would now be a fully-fledged producer.
“You certainly have friends in high places,” he remarked, smirking.
She didn’t reply but smiled knowingly, letting him know she wasn’t to be trifled with.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Zita pumped the air with her fist after she left his office. Carl had come through after all. Now she owed him. Well, that would be no hardship. She would certainly show her gratitude.She rang him later that day. “I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude,” she stated.
He roared laughing. “Well, if you like to put it like that. I take it I’m talking to the latest producer at TV2.”
“You are indeed and I’d like to invite you to dinner to say thank you.”
“I’ll be delighted to accept but only if you’ll cook it for me.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “Touché! Next Friday night?”
“I can’t wait!”
He was an incorrigible flirt. “I’ll text you the address. Seventhirty okay?”
“Perfect. I’ll bring the champagne.”
She smiled to herself as she closed her phone. Mmmm . . . now what should she give him to eat? Oysters to start, that’s for sure – not that he’d need an aphrodisiac!
Zita knocked on Marcus’s door, brandishing a bottle of champagne.
“Ooh, champers,” he grinned. “What’s the celebration this time?”
“You, sir, are looking at the newest producer at TV2!”
‘You’re joking,” he shrieked, swinging her off her feet.
“Would I joke about anything so important?” she demanded, disentangling herself.
“Tell, tell!” he cried, taking down the John Rocha champagne glasses.
“Well, Carl Dunne was the catalyst seemingly. He persuaded the Director that I was the right person for the job.”
“Wow, he’s a fast worker. He sure has clout.” Marcus raised his eyebrows as he poured the champagne.
“He sure has.”
“You owe him now, big time, you know that?” Marcus said, grinning wickedly.
“I know, but I don’t think that will be too much of a hardship.” She grinned back, her eyes half-closed in that sexy way she had perfected.
“You are wicked,” he laughed, shaking his finger at her.
“You have no idea just how wicked I can be!” she purred.
They both p
ealed with laughter.
36
Ellie and her mother picked up Chloe and Keisha on Saturday morning to go to Swords to choose their bridesmaids’ dresses. Sandrine was to meet them there.
The three friends were in high spirits as they made their way up the Malahide Road. Marie-Noelle laughed at their enthusiasm. It was so exciting planning her daughter’s wedding. She guessed this might be the only time she’d get to do it as the chances of Sandrine doing anything as foolish as getting married seemed remote!
They arrived at the bridal shop at three minutes past ten to find Sandrine standing outside, looking at her watch pointedly.
“I thought you said ten o’clock,” she remarked archly.
Ellie threw her eyes to heaven but said nothing. She was still annoyed with her sister but was determined not to let her spoil the occasion.
“Good morning, ladies,” the charming Liz said as she opened the shop door for them. “And how are you, Ellie? Looking forward to showing your friends your wedding dress?”
“Oh yes,” Ellie said breathlessly, almost dancing with excitement.
Liz invited them to take a seat, pointing to the plush sofas in the centre of the room. “Coffee everyone, or would you prefer tea?” she asked, smiling at them.
“Coffee is fine,” Marie-Noelle replied and Chloe and Keisha nodded their agreement.
“I’d prefer tea, if that’s okay, otherwise coffee is fine,” Ellie said.
“No problem.” Liz smiled sweetly at the pretty young bride-to-be.
“Do you have any herbal tea?” Sandrine asked, much to Ellie’s annoyance.
“Certainly. We have ginseng and rosehip and . . .”
“Any chamomile?”
Ellie threw her a filthy look. Even Marie-Noelle thought her oldest daughter was being overlydifficult.
“I do believe we have. Annette,” she called to a pretty young girl who was hovering nearby, “could you bring three coffees and a tea and a chamomile tea for the ladies, please?”
“Certainly.” Annette smiled before disappearing into the next room.
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