‘It’s bog-standard pub fare,’ Jane told them as they sat and picked up laminated menus, ‘but the food is really good.’
A burly bald-headed man slid out from behind the bar and came over to take their order, greeting Jane like a long-lost friend. He shook hands with Al, calling him by name, and Jane introduced him to Lesley as Liam. After a few pleasantries were exchanged, they all ordered fillet steaks and chips, and a bottle of red wine.
‘Long time no see,’ Liam said to Jane when he came back with the wine. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘Oh, nothing much – just writing.’
‘Keeping out of mischief,’ he said as he poured the wine. ‘I thought maybe you’d started drinking in Clancy’s.’
‘No.’ Jane smiled up at him. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve been doing my drinking at home.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ Liam said. ‘And you’re just down for the weekend?’ he asked Al.
‘Yes.’
‘Good, good.’ Liam had put the bottle of wine on the table, but still hovered. ‘No sign of Peter?’ he asked Jane, looking around as if expecting him to appear.
‘Nope. Still divorced,’ Jane said with a wry smile.
‘Ah, that’s a shame. He’s missed around here. You don’t get many like him.’
‘No.’
‘He’s a terrible man, Peter,’ he said, shaking his head ruefully. ‘A terrible man.’ He smiled to himself as if enjoying some private joke. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy.’
While they waited for the food to arrive, Lesley got out her phone and found the pub on Facebook. She checked in and tagged Al. Then she took a deep breath and changed her status to ‘in a relationship’, quickly burying the phone in her bag again as Liam reappeared. She would deal with the fallout later.
‘Gosh, that’s a real farmer’s dinner,’ Al said happily as three massive plates were plonked down in front of them.
‘It smells amazing!’ Lesley said, already salivating as the smell of char-grilled meat and fried onions wafted up.
‘How long more will it take you to finish the book?’ Al asked Jane as they all began eating.
‘It’s due at the end of next week.’
Al raised his eyebrows knowingly. ‘Not what I asked.’
‘Another couple of weeks should do it, hopefully,’ she said.
‘So you’ll be finished in time to come to Nice anyway,’ Al said. ‘That’s good.’
Jane grimaced. ‘I’m not sure I’m going to go to Nice this year.’
‘What?’ Al frowned, astonished. ‘Why not?’
‘Well … it’ll be a bit awkward, won’t it, with her there? My replacement – this Stella person.’
‘She’s hardly your replacement,’ Al said.
Jane sighed. ‘That’s what it feels like.’
‘It was your idea to get divorced,’ Al pointed out.
‘It was. But it doesn’t mean I want anyone else to have him.’
‘Dog in the manger.’ Lesley nodded. ‘I get that.’
‘Do you?’ Al frowned at her.
‘Yes, of course. Don’t you?’
‘Not really.’
‘Peter was indeed a terrible man,’ Jane said. ‘But he was my terrible man.’
‘Well, you’ll have to get over it,’ Al said briskly. ‘You’ve got to come to Nice. Dad and Joy would miss you – we all would. And how do you think Scott and Rafe would feel?’
‘They’re not children anymore. They’ll be fine.’
‘But it won’t be the same.’
‘No, it won’t be the same. But maybe we’ll all just have to get used to things being different now.’
When they had finished eating, Liam cleared their plates and poured the rest of the wine. He returned just as Lesley and Al were draining their glasses.
‘Now, what’ll ye have?’ he asked, rubbing his hands. ‘Another bottle? Or will you go on to something else?’
‘Oh, nothing else for me, thanks,’ Jane said, lifting her almost empty glass. ‘I’ll go as soon as I’ve finished this. I need an early night. But you two go ahead,’ she added to Lesley and Al.
‘Jack wants to buy you all a drink,’ Liam leaned down and murmured in her ear, nodding to a stout man leaning against the bar, who raised his pint in salute.
‘Oh.’ Jane waved to him and mouthed her thanks. ‘Well, I do need to keep a clear head for the morning,’ she said to Liam. ‘But I suppose one more won’t hurt. I’ll have a Bailey’s, please.’
Lesley ordered the same and Al asked for brandy.
‘So, what’s she like, then?’ Jane asked Al when Liam had brought their drinks.
‘Who?’
‘The Queen of Sheba, who do you think? Peter’s child bride. This Stella.’
‘She’s not exactly a child.’
‘Not far off, from what I’ve heard. Young enough to be Peter’s child at any rate. Anyway, you haven’t answered my question.’
Al threw Lesley a ‘help me out here’ look.
‘You’ve met her too, then?’ Jane asked Lesley. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been double-dating with your uncle,’ she said to Al.
‘Well, we did all meet up for lunch the other day. I thought it would be good for Lesley to get the measure of her. She’s got good instincts about people.’
‘And what did you think, Lesley?’
‘She’s ... very tall.’ She took a sip of her Bailey’s. ‘Good at meditation,’ she added.
‘That’s it?’
‘She’s hard to get a handle on. But she was very evasive about her background, wasn’t she, Al?’
‘She wouldn’t even tell us where she was from originally. She’s definitely hiding something.’
‘She’s not on any social media,’ Lesley added.
‘And Peter doesn’t seem to know any more about her than we do.’
‘And I suppose Peter’s madly in love?’ Jane said bitterly. ‘Too bloody besotted to see straight.’
Al shrugged. ‘He’s infatuated with her, I suppose. You know what he’s like.’
‘He’s been infatuated with lots of people. He never married any of them before. What makes this woman different to all his other flings?’
‘Timing?’ Al said. ‘He proposed to her in a panic right after his heart attack. Maybe he’s painted himself into a corner and now he feels he has to do the right thing.’
‘Huh!’ Jane said. ‘He’s changed, then. He never used to worry about doing the right thing when he was with me.’
Just as they finished their drinks, Liam appeared with another round.
‘From Sean over there,’ he said, nodding across the bar. Soon he was beating a regular path to their table with round after round of drinks, compliments of Jane’s many admirers.
Several rounds later, they were all slightly tipsy, and as the evening wore on, the pub’s clientele loosened up and there was a parade of locals stopping by their table to have a few words with Jane. They seemed quite in awe of her, shyly shuffling up to her and enquiring about ‘the book’ in reverent tones. But the talk always came back to Peter. They’d all heard about his recent brush with death and were avid for news of him.
‘Ah, sure you can’t kill a bad thing,’ a weather-beaten man named Matthew said cheerfully when Jane told him Peter was making a good recovery. ‘He’s an awful divil, Peter.’ He shook his head with a fond smile.
‘Oh, a holy terror!’ Sean said admiringly as he joined them. ‘D’you remember the time he had that old fella from Hollywood staying and they broke into Buckley’s field in the middle of the night and tried to get a rise out of his bull. Playing at matadors, they were – legless, the pair of them.’ He gave a wheezing cackle.
‘Lucky for them it was a cow, not a bull.’
‘Aye. The poor cow was never the same after it, though,’ Sean said, sobering up. ‘Suffered terrible from her nerves, she did. I believe she never gave a drop of milk since.’
‘What about the time they took your goat up to Dubli
n for the rugby?’ another said to Liam as he appeared with yet another round of drinks.
Liam laughed. ‘That bloody goat’s got a better social life than I have.’
‘You’re joking!’ Lesley said.
‘No, true as I stand here. And there’s the picture to prove it.’ He nodded to the wall behind the bar. Lesley peered, and sure enough there was a framed photograph of a younger Peter with a huge grin on his face brandishing a pint, his arm around a white goat wearing an Ireland rugby shirt.
‘You’d miss him around the place, all the same,’ Matthew said sadly.
‘Well, tell him we were asking for him.’
‘I will,’ Jane told them.
Finally they all drifted off and went back to the bar for last orders.
‘My husband was very popular around here,’ Jane told Lesley when they were alone again.
‘You’re not doing so badly yourself,’ Lesley said, nodding to the large collection of drinks that had accumulated on the table.
Jane gave a little shrug. ‘Peter was so good at this sort of thing,’ she said, looking around the pub. ‘Being one of the fellows – salt of the earth. And of course he’s – he was – a great drinker, which helped. They all adored him. “Like one of our own”, they’d say, which is the highest compliment an Englishman can get in these parts. I don’t think they’ve ever quite forgiven me for divorcing him and depriving them of his company.’ She drained her glass. ‘It’s not bloody fair,’ she said. ‘I am one of their own. They should be on my side.’
‘Maybe you just didn’t make as much of an effort with them,’ Al suggested gently.
‘He did always have that desperate need to be liked,’ she said with a bitter smile. ‘That stood him in good stead.’
‘And he is very likeable,’ Al said tentatively.
‘Yes. I’ll give him that. He’s very bloody likeable.’
‘Well, I’m sure you could get him back,’ Lesley said. ‘And it’d solve all your problems,’ she said to Al. ‘Kill two birds with one stone.’
‘But she doesn’t want him back,’ Al said, frowning at her. ‘Do you?’ He looked to Jane for confirmation.
But Jane was silent, toying thoughtfully with the rim of her glass. ‘It doesn’t seem fair, does it, that I put up with him all those years when he was taking goats to Dublin on benders, and someone else gets to have him now that he’s apparently a reformed character, and finally ready to settle down? At seventy-two,’ she added drolly.
Lesley reckoned that that was answer enough. ‘That’s decided, then. You have to come to France.’
‘I don’t know. But in the meantime, why don’t you go and see Conor?’ Jane said to Al. ‘He might have some ideas about what we should do.’
‘What made you think Jane wanted Peter back?’ Al asked later that night when they were alone in their room. Lesley was in the high double bed, and Al was on the pull-out mattress on the floor beside her.
She propped herself up on an elbow, looking down at him. ‘It seemed obvious, the way she was talking about him.’
‘Well, it looks like you were right.’ He grinned. ‘She was looking up flights to Nice when I left her in the kitchen just now.’
‘What about Peter, though? Do you really think he’d just dump Stella if he could get Jane back?’
‘In a heartbeat,’ Al said.
‘It would certainly be an elegant solution,’ Lesley said, laying back against the pillows. ‘The family fortune would be safe, and your aunt and uncle would be back together. Happy days!’
‘Except for Stella.’
‘Yeah, except for Stella.’ Lesley felt an unwelcome pang of guilt, and tried to brush it aside. After all, despite her sweet, caring facade, Stella was probably just a scheming gold-digger preying on a vulnerable old man. They’d be doing a good thing, foiling her evil plan.
‘Well, goodnight,’ Al said, snuggling down. ‘I’m sorry this probably wasn’t the kind of mini break you were expecting.’
‘That’s okay. I had fun tonight.’ And at least there was no one trying to wrap her in seaweed.
14
The next morning, Al was already up when Lesley woke. She pulled on a cardigan over her pyjamas and went downstairs. She found him at the kitchen sink, elbow-deep in suds.
‘Morning,’ she yawned.
‘Good morning!’ He turned and smiled at her, continuing to scrub.
‘You’re a right little domestic goddess, aren’t you?’ Lesley looked around admiringly, impressed at the transformation he had already made. She wouldn’t actually fear for her life if she ate in here now.
‘I do my best.’ He dried his hands on a towel. ‘What would you like for breakfast? Toast? Scrambled eggs? A fry-up?’
‘Just toast, please,’ she said casually, hiding her surprise that he was going to make it for her as Al flicked on the kettle and started cutting slices from a crusty loaf of sourdough.
‘Where’s Jane?’ she asked.
‘Oh, she’s already at work.’ He nodded to the window.
‘I didn’t hear you getting up this morning.’
‘No, you were fast asleep – still snoring your head off.’
Lesley reared up indignantly. ‘I do not snore.’
Al glanced at her, a little smile on his face. ‘Is that what your last boyfriend told you?’
‘No,’ she frowned crossly. ‘I just know. A person can know if they snore or not.’
‘Ah, okay. My mistake. It must have been a cow in the next field or something.’ He smirked as he handed her a mug of tea and put a plate of toast in front of her along with a dish of butter and a couple of pots of jam. ‘I recommend the rhubarb and ginger,’ he said.
‘Thanks. Have you already had breakfast?’ Lesley asked him.
‘Yes, I ate earlier with Jane.’
He went back to the sink as Lesley started eating.
‘You do snore, by the way,’ she said to his back. He was right about the rhubarb and ginger jam – it was fantastic.
‘Sorry,’ he said without turning around. ‘I hope it didn’t keep you awake.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘It was very quiet snoring, in fairness.’ She didn’t want to make him feel bad when he’d made her this lovely breakfast. But it was kind of a relief to discover he had some flaws. She’d been starting to worry that he was perfect, and she didn’t want to fall for him. She was just here as his employee, and she should keep it strictly professional. It was never a good idea to mix business with bonking.
She took out her phone and finally got up the nerve to sneak a look at Facebook. Of course the predicted bombardment had started almost immediately after she’d changed her status. Her check-in post from last night had caused a deluge of comments, her friends all agog about her changed relationship status and looking for details. She was tempted to boast about Al’s famous family, but decided it would be better to be cool and mysterious about it, and wait until she actually had some Bradshaws in her friends list, so she didn’t reply to any of them. Instead she shut off her phone and watched Al, who was quietly humming a medley of Bay City Rollers hits as he tidied the kitchen.
Lesley knew she’d have her mother on her case now that she’d outed Al as her boyfriend, but she hadn’t expected it to happen quite so quickly. Her phone was ringing as she got out of the shower. She was glad she didn’t manage to grab it in time before it rang off when she saw that it was her mother and she already had three missed calls from her. Bloody hell! Why hadn’t she held off a little longer before going public? She should at least have waited until she was back in Dublin. She sighed and tossed the phone on the bed. She wasn’t going to bother answering. She’d just wait for her to call back. She knew she wouldn’t have to wait long.
She was glad she had at least managed to finish dressing before her phone rang again.
‘Finally!’ was her mother’s greeting when she answered. ‘I was starting to wonder if we should get the guards involved.’
‘What?�
��
‘I’ve rung you three times this morning and no answer. I was starting to worry.’
‘Sorry. I’m just away at the moment.’
‘So, I hear you have a new boyfriend,’ she said. Her tone was accusing.
‘Where did you hear that?’
‘Katrina told me she saw it on Facebook. It’s a nice thing when every randomer on the internet gets to hear what’s going on in your life before your own mother.’
‘It’s very early days. I only posted it last night.’
‘Well, I hope you’re not going to let the grass grow under your feet this time. You’re not getting any younger, Lesley. Act fast, if you want to hold onto him, that’s my advice. You don’t have time to be wasting at your time of life.’
‘Mam! I’m thirty!’ Lesley rolled her eyes. Her mother was probably already looking at mother-of-the-bride outfits.
‘I know what age you are – that’s my point. And don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady.’
‘I wasn’t!’
‘Don’t think I can’t hear you.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t be talking to me like that if you think I’m so ancient. You should have more respect for the elderly.’
‘Where are you anyway that you can’t answer your phone – Timbuktu?’
‘As good as,’ she said in a put-upon tone. ‘Sorry, Mam. We’re staying with Al’s aunt in Clare – a place called Doonbeg. The signal isn’t great here.’ She crossed her fingers, hoping her mother had never been to Doonbeg. The signal was just fine. But her mother was a militant Dubliner and didn’t really hold with other parts of the country. In her view, anywhere beyond the M50 was a wasteland, devoid of phone signals and other accoutrements of civilisation, inhabited by oddballs and bandits, and to be avoided at all costs.
For Love or Money: A laugh out loud, heartwarming romantic comedy Page 10