Mistake

by Sheila O'Flanagan

I do, and she does, and Diarmuid exclaims again at how good it is.

  We finish our coffees and leave the café together.

  ‘Everything OK?’ asks Mum again, as Diarmuid walks slightly ahead of us.

  ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’

  ‘Because you’re here on your own on a Sunday afternoon.’

  I sigh. There’s no point in lying to her. She always knows.

  ‘Dave and I had a bit of a row. About the car,’ I add, although I’m pretty sure Mum is aware that the car is the main thing Dave and I row about.

  ‘Oh, sweetheart.’

  ‘He’s trying to sell it behind my back, not that he actually can. And I’m not going to let him. I’m not going to be forced into giving up my job.’

  ‘Is it worth it?’ Mum’s voice is matter-of-fact.

  ‘It is to me.’

  ‘You’ve got to make the right decision for you,’ she says. ‘I told you before and I’ll tell you again – I’m here for you, no matter what. Just be certain of what it is you really want.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And although your dad would hate to think that the car has come between you and Dave, he’d also be behind you.’

  I take a tissue from my bag and blow my nose.

  Diarmuid is still ahead of us, allowing us to talk privately.

  ‘He’s a nice man,’ I say.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Still only companionship?’

  Mum says nothing.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘So far,’ she admits eventually. ‘But . . . well, we’ll see.’

  ‘Whatever makes you happy,’ I say.

  I mean it. Though it’s a bit bleak that my mother’s new relationship seems to be running a lot more smoothly than the one I’ve been in for over twenty years.

  Chapter 28

  It’s almost dark by the time I get home.

  Dave and the children are eating pizza in front of the TV. I say nothing about the fact that it’s been a rarity in the house for weeks.

  ‘Mum!’ Mica scrambles to her feet. ‘You’re back. Where did you go?’

  ‘I had things to do.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘I had to see your granny,’ I tell her.

  ‘Do you want some pizza?’ Tom picks a triangle from his own plate and offers it to me.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I tell him. ‘I had cake with Granny. I’ll go upstairs and change.’

  I hurry up to the bedroom, but Mica follows me.

  ‘Why didn’t you bring us with you to see Granny?’ she asks.

  ‘You were all busy.’

  ‘I would’ve stopped doing what I was doing,’ says Mica. ‘I like going to Granny’s.’ She frowns. ‘Are you . . . are you upset about something? Is it my fault?’

  ‘Not at all,’ I assure her. ‘But maybe I’m not having my best day today and that’s why I needed to see Granny.’

  ‘Poor Mum.’ She wraps her arms around me. ‘Everything will be fine.’

  ‘Of course it will,’ I say cheerfully. ‘Everyone has down days sometimes.’

  ‘Like when I had the row with Emma and Oladele.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘We had a row because they were mean. Was someone mean to you? ’Cos I wasn’t.’

  ‘I know you weren’t,’ I say.

  ‘Was it Dad?’ She looks anxious.

  ‘Why would you think it was Dad?’

  ‘Because he was annoyed when you went out. And he said that you wanted to be Superwoman but that only Superwoman is Superwoman.’

  ‘He has a point.’

  ‘He says that you have to stop driving and be our proper mum.’

  I might actually punch Dave.

  ‘I’ll always be your proper mum,’ I say.

  ‘I know.’ She cuddles up to me. ‘I don’t mind you doing other things. Except if I want to go to football or swimming or stuff.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And I like that you’re friends with Leona Lynch. Which is very cool for an old person.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I love you,’ says Mica.

  ‘I love you too,’ I tell her in return.

  But later that night, there’s no love between Dave and me. None at all. We don’t speak until the children are in bed, and when we do, I tell him, with all the finality I can muster, that he’s not selling my car. And that I’ll wind down the business when I want to and not before.

  ‘You know, I don’t think it’s about the driving at all,’ says Dave. ‘I think there’s something else. I think you use it to get out of the house with no questions asked. Because don’t think for one second I haven’t wondered about it, Roxy. Friday nights. Sunday afternoons. Overnight stays. A guy who gives you perfume.’

  ‘Not this again!’ I’m totally exasperated now.

  ‘What am I supposed to think?’

  ‘Maybe that I’m doing my job.’

  ‘Or that you’re using it as an excuse.’

  ‘I thought I was driving because I’m incapable of forgetting my dad.’

  ‘That too,’ says Dave. ‘Look, I’ve been talking to people about you. And they all agree—’

  ‘What people?’ I demand.

  ‘Friends,’ Dave says. ‘Family.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Aidan, for one,’ replies Dave. ‘He said you were upset because Selina told you that Christy might have had a baby before he married her. He says that your mum thinks it’s unhinged you a bit. I can imagine it would. And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about it. Which shows how much you’ve changed, Roxy. Last year, I would’ve been the first to know.’

  Aidan wouldn’t talk about Dad’s possible baby to me, but he did to Dave? I’m filled with rage towards my disloyal brother. As for Mum – well, she might have said that to Aidan a few weeks ago. But she’s in my corner now. If I need her to be.

  ‘I’ve made allowances for you,’ says Dave. ‘I’ve been patient and fair. But my patience is at breaking point and you haven’t been fair to me.’

  I have. At least, I think I have. Although there’s still the issue of Ivo Lehane. But he was my fantasy man. Thea Ryan said it was OK to have a fantasy. And I trust her.

  ‘Look.’ Dave sighs deeply. ‘Let’s agree that we’ve had a tough few months and that both of us have done things we regret. But we’re over the hump now and we’ll move forward.’

  I want to say yes. I want to believe that things can be better. But I’m very afraid that we may have passed the point of no return.

  ‘That car is a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong between us,’ says Dave. ‘The offer for it is a good one. I can buy you a really nice replacement for the Toyota and still have money left for a decent holiday afterwards. We deserve it, Roxy.’

  Is it possible he’s right? About the car? About everything?

  ‘I need to think about it,’ I say.

  ‘And the baby,’ he adds. ‘Think about the baby too.’

  No matter what he says, I’m definitely not thinking about a Band-Aid baby.

  I don’t have any jobs the next morning, but I’m up before Dave and make toast for his breakfast before he heads out for the day. He doesn’t say anything as he eats the toast and drinks a large mug of coffee, which only takes him five minutes. He’s gone before seven. I stand under my state-of-the-art shower and worry about the future.

  The children are up soon afterwards. In contrast to the silence in the kitchen while Dave had breakfast, the two of them squabble and rile each other up over their porridge. Because it’s drizzling, I drive them to school. By the time we get there, they’re best friends again and are holding hands as they walk through the gates. If only it were that easy for adults to resolve their differences.

  I go home and make my second coffee of the day. I’m about to sit down with it when my phone pings with a message.

  Just to let you know my father died last night , says Ivo Lehane. I know it’s short notice, but is it possible for you to pi
ck me up at the airport later. 3 p.m.?

  I stare at the message for a long time. I made a decision never to have him in the car again, but this is different. I reply that of course I’ll meet him and that I’m sorry for his loss. Though I can’t help wondering how sorry he is himself.

  I ring Mum, explain the situation and ask if she can look after Tom and Mica for the afternoon.

  ‘Oh, the poor man,’ she says, and I don’t know if she means Ivo or his dad. ‘Of course I’ll look after them. I’ll come to yours so you don’t have to collect them later.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s not a bother. I hope everything’s all right.’

  This time, I don’t know if she means with Ivo or with Dave. But I don’t spend time chatting about it.

  I finish my now lukewarm coffee and clear away the breakfast things. Then I go upstairs and change into my navy suit and white blouse. I have a job this morning, meeting a client from Connolly station and bringing him across town. Fortunately that still leaves me time to get to Ivo later.

  My client is a taciturn man who doesn’t speak during our journey from the train station to the office park on the west side of the city. He does, however, take the two bottles of water from the car, so I stop and buy more in case Ivo needs any. He never has, but there’s always a first time. I get to the airport early but don’t bother with coffee; I simply stand at the barrier and wait for his flight to arrive.

  It takes a while, but finally I see him walk through the doors and scan the faces of the crowd of people waiting for incoming travellers. He smiles when he sees me and then turns slightly to the person who’s a step behind him, putting his hand beneath her elbow and steering her in my direction.

  She’s nearly as tall as him, though her high-heeled boots clearly help. Her hair is silver blonde, and she’s wearing it in a chopped pixie cut that enhances her angular face. She has the same confident air as Gina Hayes, her white coat making a statement in the same way Gina’s signature raincoat does. She’s pulling a small cabin bag behind her. Its bright red colour matches the red of her lipstick. She looks amazing.

  ‘Thank you for coming at such short notice,’ says Ivo as they reach me.

  ‘I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances,’ I say.

  His smile is tight and then he introduces me to the woman who’s with him. Not that he has to.

  ‘Annabel Mauret,’ he says. ‘My driver, Mrs McMenamin.’

  Has he emphasised the Mrs a little too much?

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ says Annabel.

  The mental image I’d built up of the high-maintenance Annabel shatters into a thousand pieces. I know Ivo said she was a qualified chemist and I accepted that she had her own career, but wow – this woman isn’t simply a girlfriend. She’s a force of her own. She wouldn’t have been upset about Ivo not coming to her birthday party, only that her arrangements were messed up. I admit to myself, as I lead them to the car, that she could have been disappointed on a personal level too, but she seems too poised and self-assured to allow herself to become upset over things that are out of her control. I wonder, suddenly, if she recognises the perfume I’m wearing. Her perfume.

  I realise that I feel like the other woman.

  I open the rear door of the Mercedes and she slides along the seat so that Ivo can get in beside her.

  ‘Thank you,’ he says as I close it.

  I get into the front and switch on the engine. Annabel begins to talk to Ivo. I recognise two words. Mon cher.

  I can’t speak French . . .

  They talk on and off for the entire journey to Kildare, and it’s not until I’m about to take the exit that Ivo speaks to me.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I should have said. We’re going to a different address.’

  I have to admit that I was wondering how the glamorous Annabel would feel about Banville Terrace. But Ivo has booked them into a guest house outside the town. I’m a little surprised he hasn’t chosen somewhere a bit more upmarket – after all, he’s used to the five-star treatment, and clearly Annabel is too; those hundred-euro main courses are way beyond anything Kildare has to offer – but when I pull up outside the guest house, I can see why he picked it. The elegant period house is undoubtedly appropriate for their stay, although as it’s a good twenty-minute walk from here to Banville Terrace, I hope Annabel has flatter shoes with her!

  ‘Thank you,’ says Ivo when I open the door to let them out.

  ‘I really am sorry,’ I tell him.

  ‘I can’t truthfully say that myself.’ His expression is a mixture of guilt and resignation. ‘But I’m glad I did my bit. And thank you for making me see that it was something I had to do. The funeral is tomorrow at eleven,’ he adds. ‘Lizzy has made the arrangements, so our transport is already organised for that. But Annabel will need to be driven back to the airport the following day, though I’m staying a little longer. If you can drive for both of us, I’d really appreciate it.’

  ‘No problem. Just let me know when you want me.’

  ‘Thank you,’ says Annabel in her perfect English. ‘Ivo was right. You are an excellent driver.’

  I smile briefly at her and get back into the car.

  I’m glad Ivo thinks I’m a good driver.

  I’m glad he told her I was too.

  Although I’m caught up in commuter traffic, I still make it home before Dave. Mum is watching an episode of Endeavour on the TV. She hits pause when I come into the room.

  ‘How’s your client?’ she asks.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ I reply. ‘I guess it wasn’t entirely unexpected.’

  ‘This means you won’t have to drive to Kildare any more.’

  ‘I know. That’ll cheer Dave up. And you,’ I add. ‘You were never keen either.’

  ‘It was just that you seemed . . . oh, I don’t know, very eager to work for this man. That two-day trip . . .’

  ‘He was paying me more than double my other clients. Of course I was keen.’

  ‘He gave Mum perfume.’

  I jump. Mica’s head has popped up from behind the armchair in the corner.

  ‘What on earth were you doing there?’ I demand.

  ‘Reading.’ She holds up a book. I’m delighted she’s reading, but behind the chair! ‘It’s a quiet place,’ she tells me when I ask her why.

  ‘What perfume?’ asks Mum.

  I explain about the bottle of perfume, and she frowns.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ I say. ‘I didn’t want to take it, but he insisted because at the time he wasn’t planning to come back. But he did. So that’s that.’

  ‘Right.’ Mum looks doubtful.

  ‘Oh, stop it!’ I drop my bag on the sofa. ‘I’m going upstairs to change. D’you want to stay for something to eat, or would you prefer to go home?’

  Mum glances at her watch. ‘Actually, I’m going out.’

  I look at her.

  ‘Diarmuid is bringing me to dinner in Howth,’ she says.

  ‘Right. You’d better head off if you want to make yourself look beautiful.’

  ‘Granny always looks beautiful,’ says Mica.

  ‘I know.’ I plop down on the sofa beside Mum and give her a hug. ‘Sorry. I’m a bit tired. And ratty.’

  ‘Like I said, burning the candle at both ends.’

  ‘Truly not,’ I tell her.

  I fall off the healthy-meal-choice wagon and order a Chinese takeaway for dinner. I don’t have the energy to cook and it turns out to be a good decision, because Dave arrives at the same time as the takeaway.

  ‘Great,’ he says as he tucks in to kung po chicken. ‘It was a busy day and I’m starving.’

  After dinner, he waits in the kitchen while I stack the dishwasher. Tom and Mica take themselves off to watch TV.

  ‘Look, I’ll accept not selling the car,’ he says abruptly. ‘It’s yours and you like driving it. Plus I’ll also accept that you want to keep driving for a bit longer. But you have to accept that the family comes first.’<
br />
  ‘My family always comes first.’ I’m pleased and relieved that he has finally seen my point of view. It truly is like a weight rolling off my shoulders.

  ‘Yeah, well.’ He shrugs. ‘We’re nothing without family, Roxy. Mine is very important to me. And I know I kind of blindsided you with it before, but I’ve thought about it a lot and I really want us to have another baby.’

  So on the one hand he’s given me the green light to drive. But he also wants me to have a baby, which would make it impossible.

  ‘I can’t have a baby and keep working,’ I say.

  ‘Think about it, sweetheart.’ He stands behind me and, to my surprise, puts his arms around me. ‘All I want is for things to be the way they were before.’

  He keeps talking about how things were before. But we can’t go back.

  And I don’t want to.

  Chapter 29

  I decide to go to Mr Lehane’s funeral the following morning as it seems like the respectful thing to do. Ivo has been a good client and I’m aware that his father’s illness has been a difficult time for both him and his sister. Until my own dad died I wouldn’t have considered going to the funeral of someone I didn’t know personally, but many of Dad’s regular customers turned up at the church, and seeing so many people there was a great comfort to all of us. I want to be part of the comfort that’s offered to Ivo and Lizzy. By the time I organise Mica and Tom for school, I’ll be late getting there, but I reckon the church will be full and nobody will notice me slipping in after the mass starts. I arrange with Eric Fallon to take my jobs for the day and, in case I get delayed, I ask Natalie if she could look out for the children after school. I know this is two days in a row that they’re being cared for by someone else, but it’s exceptional.

  I stick close to the speed limit on the motorway and make it to the church shortly after the service has started. I expected to see it overflowing, but there aren’t many mourners inside. The first pew is taken up by family. I recognise Ivo, of course, flanked by Annabel, now wearing a chic black jacket with elegant beading, and an auburn-haired woman who I guess must be his sister, Lizzy. There’s also an older woman and two men in the pew.

  Scattered around the church are a number of elderly parishioners who probably come to every funeral. But the total number can’t be more than twenty. I’m glad I came, if only to add one more person.