comprehensive. Perhaps things were done differently in grammar school society. Or perhaps
things were done differently in Paddy Friel’s society, whispered a mischievous little voice in
my head. I stamped it down, not before a pang of regret had flashed through me about my
faded, knitted dress and barely there make-up. But I wasn’t going to meet him. I didn’t want to
meet him. So what did it matter?
The historian, Jeremy Swann, spoke first and Tina was proved right: he was a witty,
engaging speaker, skilled at throwing out titbits of information about how the Romans had
lived, in the style of Horrible Histories, so his talk appealed to all ages. I leant to the side, so I
17
Kate Field
Eve and Paddy
could see him from between the assembled heads, hanging on his every word as my long-
abandoned interest blossomed back to life. I had missed this, more than I wanted to admit.
I was still leaning, rapt, when Jeremy introduced the next speaker. I shot upright, not
before seeing a familiar flash of dark curl. Tina gave me a nudge and a smile, but I stared at
the ruddy, bald neck of the man in front of me and refused to look. I couldn’t block my ears
though. The first sound of that Irish lilt set my thoughts racing through the years, dredging up
memories I had hoped never to revisit: the good memories, the tender memories of love, that
made the bad memories so much more painful.
He was good, my objective self was forced to admit it. His enthusiasm covered the
room like a silken net, gathering us all in, captive to the power of the story he was telling. Even
I, who knew too well what a sham this was, what a false show concealing his true nature, felt
the tug of excitement as he described the experience of working on an archaeological dig, of
making a discovery that contributed to our knowledge of ancient times. But then he mentioned
working at Vindolanda, a famous Roman site in Northumberland, and I couldn’t listen any
more. We had volunteered there together during the first summer we had been a couple, and
the archaeological discoveries during the day took second place in my memories to the nights
spent tangled together in a sleeping bag in a tiny tent for two.
‘Wasn’t he amazing?’ Tina said, rousing me from the mental repetition of my shopping
list – a surprisingly effective distraction, as it had reminded me that I was now shopping for
one, and turned my thoughts to how much I was missing Caitlyn. ‘He’ll have inspired a few
new archaeologists tonight. Inspired a few sweet dreams too for some of this audience. Phew!
I think I’m having a hot flush. Can you hang on while I find a glass of water? There’s sure to
be a water fountain along the corridor somewhere. Back in a mo …’
She scuttled off down the corridor, and I lurked at the back of the hall, safe in the
knowledge that everyone else was leaving by the doors at the front, presumably in search of
18
Kate Field
Eve and Paddy
refreshment – a cup of tea with an extra splash of artificial Irish sweetener. I checked my phone
for messages as the footsteps faded, the chatter died away, and the room fell silent. And then
one voice carried the length of the hall, a voice I had heard more than enough of tonight.
‘Eve?’
19
Kate Field
Eve and Paddy
CHAPTER 3
Impossible not to turn, though my first instinct was to run out of the door. There he was, Paddy
Friel, striding down the aisle formed between rows of chairs like a joyous bride dashing
towards the groom; smiling in a way he had no business to, as if he was delighted to see me –
as if it hadn’t been his choice, oh so many years ago, to stop seeing me.
He paused, looked me up and down, and shook his head in apparent amazement. Curls
bounced around his face, and he swept them back with a gesture that was so familiar it was as
if he had swept the last seventeen years away too.
‘I thought it was you. Eve Roberts. I can’t believe it. How are you?’
He stepped forward, arms outstretched, as if to offer a kiss to my cheeks, the traditional
greeting for long-lost acquaintances, I supposed. I folded my arms and moved away, wanting
no contact with him. He could have stayed lost for all I cared.
‘Hello, Paddy.’
His smile wavered. He could hardly misinterpret the coolness in my tone and action.
Surely he couldn’t have expected anything else?
‘You’re looking fantastic!’ he carried on valiantly. ‘Hardly changed at all. What are
you doing here? Do you have a child at the school?’
‘No.’ I hadn’t planned to say more, but when he continued to look at me, a growing
question on his face, I was spurred into further speech. What if he thought I was there to see
him? I couldn’t allow that.
‘I came with a friend.’ Soon to be an ex-friend, I decided, glancing over my shoulder
and seeing no sign of Tina. Where had she gone to find the water, the North Sea?
‘I wish I’d known there was an expert in the audience.’ He smiled. ‘How did it sound?
No glaring clangers?’
20
Kate Field
Eve and Paddy
‘It seemed okay.’ He couldn’t hold back a grimace at that faint praise; no doubt he was
accustomed to gross adulation wherever he went as part of his celebrity lifestyle. I aimed a
vague nod in his direction and edged towards the door, determined to wait in the car for Tina
rather than endure this torture for a moment longer.
‘Hey, wait. Don’t rush off. What have you been up to? Did you carry on with the
archaeology?’
‘No. How would it have worked? It was impossible, wasn’t it?’ It was the word he had
used in his parting note to me, seventeen years ago, but he didn’t appear to make the
connection.
‘And how is everyone? Wendy? Douglas?’
‘My dad’s dead.’
The expression of shock and sadness on Paddy’s face might have fooled anyone else.
My dad had never for a second made me think he was disappointed with a second daughter –
we were two of a kind, like Faye and Mum had been – but he had loved Paddy like a son, and
the feeling had seemed mutual. But then I’d thought Paddy had loved me too, so what did I
know?
‘I’m sorry.’ He reached out a hand, but I drew further back. ‘When? How?’
‘Another heart attack. Three months after Faye died.’
Briefly, his face crumpled with something like grief. My resolve to be indifferent
shattered.
‘You must know this! I wrote to you … gave you all the details … told you when the
funeral was.’
He hadn’t come. I had waited at the door of the crematorium, certain that despite
everything, despite what he had already done, he wouldn’t let me down on this; wouldn’t let
my dad down. He wouldn’t leave me to face this on my own, when I had lost two of the people
21
Kate Field
Eve and Paddy
I loved most in the world within a few short months. Three, if I counted him. But I had learnt
beyond doubt that day that Paddy Friel didn’t think about anyone but himself; didn’t care about
anyone but himself, whatever lies he told to the contrary. I took a deep, juddering breath, and
managed to control my emotions. I had wasted enough tears on this man.
‘Ah, jeez, I wasn’t at home. I didn’t get the letter …’
I shrugged; a convenient excuse if ever I’d heard one.
‘It doesn’t matter now. It’s old news.’
I ignored his surprised expression at my apparent callousness. He had no right to judge
me for being hard-hearted.
‘And your mam?’
‘Alive and well, and living in Spain. One of the advantages of my dad working in
insurance. He left her a very comfortable widow.’
Paddy’s puzzled gaze roamed over my face. Was he trying to work out where this bitter
woman had come from, how she had grown out of the girl he had known? He didn’t need to
look far. I could hold up a mirror, let him see the answer for himself, but he would probably be
too distracted by the view.
‘And …’ He hesitated, scratched his cheek, pushed the curls back although they were
hardly out of place. ‘Caitlyn. How is she?’
‘Fine.’
‘How old is she now? Twenty?’
‘Yes.’ I was surprised he remembered.
‘Is she here?’ He started looking round. ‘Is that who you’re waiting for?’
‘No, she’s …’ I stopped short. Why was I wasting my breath? He’d made it plain
enough when he left that he wasn’t interested; that she was my niece, my problem. ‘She’s not
with me.’
22
Kate Field
Eve and Paddy
‘Eve …’
His hand landed on my arm and for a moment I was too stunned to shake it off.
‘Hello! Sorry to be so long.’ Tina returned at last, no sign of water, but a glass of wine
in her hand. ‘But I see you’ve managed perfectly well without me …’
‘And I see you’ve managed to turn water into wine,’ I said, jerking my arm away from
Paddy’s hand.
‘Sorry! I was looking for a water fountain, but then I ran into the teacher from my
Facebook group and she dragged me away for something better.’ She smiled and stepped
around me, her eye on more interesting company. ‘Hello. Pleased to meet you. What a
fascinating talk! I could have listened for hours.’
‘You should have been on the front row. I might have gone on longer if I hadn’t faced
a bored kid who seemed more interested in what he could excavate from his nose …’
The sound of Paddy’s laugh grated on my nerves. I didn’t look, didn’t want to see how
that cleft in his chin deepened when he laughed, see how many more laughter lines he had
earned around his eyes during our time apart. I studied a black and white school photograph
that was hung on the wall, rows of young faces, of students who would probably now be
grandparents; the prime of life behind them, whereas mine sometimes felt as if it had never
started. Unlike the man I could sense was watching me. What a lot of living he had squeezed
into the last seventeen years.
‘Are you ready to go?’ I asked Tina.
‘There’s no hurry …’ She crumbled under the look I sent her and swiftly downed her
wine. ‘Of course, I can’t miss my taxi.’ She turned to Paddy. ‘Do you do many school talks?
I’d love it if you could come to ours.’
‘There’s no money in the budget for that,’ I said. What on earth was Tina thinking?
‘I don’t charge for school talks. I’d be happy to come. Where is it?’
23
Kate Field
Eve and Paddy
Before I could instruct Tina not to tell him – although I hadn’t worked out how I could
do that – she gave him what he wanted.
‘Inglebridge High in north Lancashire. Would you travel so far?’
‘Sure. I’d be happy to.’ Paddy pulled out his wallet and took out a business card. ‘Here.
Get in touch when you’ve worked out some dates.’ He held out another card to me. ‘What do
you teach?’
‘I don’t.’
The card dangled between us. I put my hands in my pockets, indicating as clearly as I
could that I had no intention of taking it.
‘Eve, can’t we catch up sometime? There are things …’
‘No.’ I cut him off. ‘I have nothing to say, and there’s nothing I want to hear. Not every
bit of the past deserves raking up, does it? You should know that better than most.’
*
Tina was unusually quiet as we returned to the car and set off home, and I was too busy
concentrating on negotiating the country roads in the dark to break the silence. I was glad to
have something to focus on other than the past few hours. The sight of Paddy had knocked me
more than I had anticipated, stirring up all the old feelings for him. Feelings of hate, not love
– that had died long ago.
‘Pull over here,’ Tina called, banging on the dashboard like an overenthusiastic driving
instructor. ‘This pub’s nice. A bit gastropub with the menu, but fine for a couple of drinks.’
I turned into the car park obediently, and we wandered into the pub. It was an attractive
place, tastefully decorated with a wooden floor, expensive wallpaper and cosy fabrics. A
roaring fire and an abundance of lamps gave the place a romantic feeling – the sort of place
where lovers might curl up in a corner, oblivious to the rest of the world. Or so I imagined.
Romance played no part in my life. But that’s what I’d chosen, so how could I complain?
24
Kate Field
Eve and Paddy
I found a table within range of the fire, and Tina brought over a glass of wine, and a
cranberry and lemonade for me. For the first time in many years I longed for a shot of alcohol
to numb my feelings.
‘I’m only having the one,’ Tina said, conveniently forgetting the one she had already
had at the school. ‘I have 8B first period tomorrow. I need my wits about me. If I have to teach
them in Year 9, I may stage a one-woman revolt. Hannah White never stops rubbing it in about
how brilliant 8A are. Apparently, some of them can even spell medieval …’
I laughed and began to relax, glad that we didn’t appear to be heading towards a post-
mortem of the earlier part of the evening. Although I wouldn’t be sorry to hear of Paddy Friel
laid out on the mortuary slab … I sipped my drink, batting away the unworthy thought. I’d
suffered too much loss to know that death wasn’t something to be flippant about.
‘Talking of Year 9,’ I began, remembering a piece of school gossip I had overheard
today. ‘Did you know that the Biology lab …’
Tina put down her glass with a decisive bang.
‘Stop changing the subject,’ she said. I had thought I was continuing the subject, but
she gave me no time to protest. ‘You and Paddy Friel. Come on, spill the beans. I’ve never met
anyone who’s dated a celebrity.’
‘He’s not a celebrity.’
‘He’s been on the telly.’
‘So have thousands of other people. That means nothing, nowadays. You can’t be
impressed by him. His only talent is putting on an Irish accent and waving his hair around.’
‘You mean he’s not really Irish?’
‘His name is Nigel, and he was born and bred in London.’
Tina looked crushed and I felt a fleeting twitch of guilt, but not enough to stop me
continuing. ‘It’s an image he cultivated – calling himself Paddy, drinki
ng Guinness, laying on
25
Kate Field
Eve and Paddy
the thick accent – all he needs now is to start talking about leprechauns. I bet he hasn’t set foot
in Ireland for years. The whole thing is a sham, to make him more popular and presumably
richer. Cut open Paddy and you’ll still find a weak and cowardly Nigel inside.’
‘Don’t hold back! Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you. You really don’t
like him, do you?’
‘I hate him.’
When Tina flinched at the word, I sat back against the cushioned chair, swirling my
cranberry juice. I had given the instinctive answer, but was it true? I had loved him once, but I
didn’t now. I had hated him once, but that had been seventeen years ago. I hadn’t spent the
intervening years sticking pins in a voodoo Paddy doll and cursing his name. There’d been no
time for that, even if I’d felt inclined; I’d had Caitlyn to look after. My life had carried on, a
satisfying one in many ways, especially where Caitlyn was concerned. Paddy Friel had rarely
entered my thoughts, except when I’d been unfortunate and switched on the television at the
wrong moment.
So no, perhaps I didn’t hate him now. But if I was being forced to examine my feelings,
I’d never managed to reach indifference either. As for forgiveness … there weren’t enough
years in eternity for me to ever arrive at that point.
‘How long did you go out with him for?’ Tina asked.
‘Almost three years, from near the end of our first year at university. We moved in
together after we graduated.’ A memory flashed up, of that tiny rented flat on the first floor of
a semi even smaller than the one I owned now; of how ridiculously excited we’d been to have
a place to ourselves; of how I’d felt safe there with Paddy, little knowing he would hurt me
more than anyone outside that flat could have done.
‘I’m guessing it ended badly. What did he do? Cheat? I don’t suppose he’s ever been
short of offers.’
26
Kate Field
A Dozen Second Chances (ARC) Page 3
