by Melissa Hill
“Dan – forget it, it’s not a problem,” she interjected breezily. “If it’s the reason you’re phoning, or if you’re worrying about it, then don’t. You didn’t have to tell me anything. We’re divorced now, remember?”
She heard him breathe deeply – with relief, she thought. Good old Dan and his guilt. Not that his guilt had stopped him before. Back then guilt was the last thing on Dan’s mind.
“I know, but I just thought –”
“I’m sorry, but I really have to go, it’s very busy,” she interjected quickly. “I wish you well with the wedding, and I hope you’ll be very happy.”
“Do you really mean that, Nic?” he asked, his voice soft and hopeful.
Nicola felt her heart sink to her stomach. Did she mean it – after everything? But surely she should be happy for Dan – happy that he had found someone else to love, as she had with Ken.
But had she moved on, really? Lately, Nicola wasn’t sure. Sure, everything was going fantastically for her now, and she had absolutely no regrets about coming home to Ireland, and no regrets about the divorce. And of course, falling in love with Ken was the best thing that could possibly have happened to her.
But yet, news of Dan seemed to have stirred up old feelings – feelings Nicola thought she had successfully buried a long time ago. Why couldn’t he have just got on with his life, and she with hers, without any interference? Why, out of all people, did Laura’s wedding invites have to get mixed up with her ex-husband’s?
But then again, Nicola thought, maybe this was it. She hadn’t seen Dan in almost four years since …well, since everything. Maybe, if she met with him now, and didn’t feel anything, then she would be free to move on for good.
So maybe that’s what she should do.
Nicola took breath. “You’re right, we should meet up for coffee, sometime. I’d love to hear all about the new Mrs Hunt.” She injected some warmth into her voice.
“That would be really great, Nic. I’d love to see you.” He sounded pleased, but Nicola thought, also a little surprised.
“Well, I’ll give you a call then.”
“Where are you living at the moment, in Dublin?” Dan asked, and she sensed that he didn’t want the conversation to end just yet.
“No Lakeview actually,” she said, not giving him too much information.
“Oh not too far from me then,”
“Well as I said, I’ll give you a call,” Nicola said, not wanting to it all to be too buddy-buddy.
“You still have my office number?”
“I think so.” The number of Hunt of O’Leary Chartered Accountants was etched somewhere in her brain, even after all this time.
“OK, well, nice to talk to you again, Nic. Oh, by the way, I saw that magazine article. You looked great.”
“Oh.” She was surprised by this. “Thank you.”
“I’d better go – talk to you soon then.”
“Yes.”
She replaced the receiver, and stared unseeingly at the phone for what seemed like ages, trying to decide whether or not she had made the right decision.
30
Nicola drove home afterwards, her thoughts going a mile a minute. It was so strange, speaking to Dan again after all this time. And the conversation had been almost … well, almost casual, considering.
And he had seen the article in Mode, too. She wondered if Dan realised that Motiv8 was Ken’s enterprise, as he hadn’t actually been mentioned by name in the article. What would Ken think of all this, she wondered. She’d certainly tell him about Dan’s phone call anyway, and that they had arranged a meeting. He wouldn’t be too pleased, but she was certain he would understand that she had to see Dan and more importantly, why she had to see him.
She wished she could tell him immediately, but he was over at his dad’s tonight. Nicola smiled. The Harris’s were a close family, and Ken was an extremely dutiful son. She had met Pat and Clodagh Harris many times over the last few months. She had been a little concerned at the beginning that they might have a problem with her being a divorcee and all that, but she needn’t have worried.
Still, she thought, turning into her driveway, she couldn’t be blamed for worrying – after all she had to put up with from the Hunts.
Nicola recalled how, at the beginning of her and Dan’s relationship, she had been so looking forward to meeting his parents. She had no idea what kind of reception awaited her when, one Sunday, he suggested that they pop up to Longford to see them. By then, Nicola was sure that Dan was The One. There was no question about it. She loved this man with all her heart, and she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. And as far as Nicola knew, Dan felt exactly the same.
So it was with great excitement, and not an ounce of trepidation, that she jumped at the chance to meet Mr and Mrs Hunt for the very first time.
Actually thinking back on it now, Nicola remembered that the first time hadn’t been all that bad.
The Hunt residence was situated just outside Longford town, and Nicola’s immediate impression upon approach was that someone in the family – probably Mrs Hunt – must be an adept gardener. The grounds were magnificent. A host of rhododendron bushes in full spring bloom, some of which must have been about fifteen feet tall, bordered the cobbled driveway – and the house itself, an impressive mock-Swiss design, was swathed with mature clematis intertwined with a heavy vine creeper. Towering cordylines, eucalyptus and monkey-puzzles surrounded the perimeter, and various species of ornamental grass flourished dramatically from underneath the windowsills. To Nicola, who was idealistic about gardening but in reality couldn’t keep potted geraniums alive, the place was an absolute paradise.
Judging by the silver Mercedes S-class and the Cherokee jeep parked in front of the house, the Hunts weren’t short of a bob or two. Dan had told her that, although now close to retirement, his father was managing director of a building firm and that his mother had never worked.
“I know it’s unfashionable these days,” he had said, “but Mum never wanted to be anything other than a housewife. Both her parents were doctors and rarely at home and Mum decided that she didn’t want that for me – she wanted to be there and have a home-cooked meal waiting for me after school each day.”
Nicola nodded. Her mother had always been there for her and her brother, Jack, too.
“Well, here we are,” Dan announced, as they pulled up outside the house. Nicola stepped out of the car and looked around. She had brought some handmade chocolates and a small bunch of lilies as a gift for Dan’s mum, but the arrangement looked pathetic against the lush blooms surrounding the house.
Dan took her hand and gave an excited smile as they entered the hallway.
“Mum, Dad – it’s me, where are you?” he shouted.
“Well, hello there.” An older, more distinguished, but equally attractive version of Dan appeared in the doorway. “You must be the famous Nicola,” he said, extending a hand.
As they shook hands she sensed that Jarlath Hunt must have been one hell of a charmer in his younger days. And although his hairline had receded to nothing and his face was lined and weathered, she thought that Dan’s father was, even now, a very attractive man. It must be the eyes, she thought. It had been Dan’s ice-blue gaze that had melted Nicola’s heart in the first place, and now an older, but altogether colder version of that gaze was concentrating on her at that very moment.
“Welcome to our home,” he said formally. “My wife is in the kitchen, just through there.”
Upon first impression, Nicola thought that Annabel Hunt looked considerably older than her husband, although she wasn’t sure if it was the poorly applied make-up or the shapeless clothes that gave her that idea. She was tall and wiry, and her white-blonde hair had obviously been freshly styled, but did nothing to disguise her drawn features. When shaking hands, Mrs Hunt looked distinctly unfriendly, and Nicola wondered if perhaps this visit had been forced upon, rather than been invited by her.
“You have a very
beautiful home, Mrs Hunt,” she said, hoping to break the ice, which seemed thicker than the iceberg that sank the Titanic, “and your garden is truly amazing – it must have taken years of great care to have it looking like that.”
“You’ll have to ask Jarlath about that,” she replied dismissively. “It’s always been his baby and I don’t have much time for gardens myself.” The edge to her tone was unmistakable, and Nicola knew instantly that Mrs Hunt didn’t like her. She wondered then if it was just her, or was Dan’s mother distrustful of all her son’s girlfriends?
“Well, it’s very beautiful, anyway,” she said with a polite smile as Mrs Hunt turned away and went back to chopping vegetables.
“Nic, will you have a glass of wine, or something?” Dan asked her.
She smiled with relief. “I’d love a small one, thanks.”
“Dad?”
“Drinking in the middle of the day, Dan? I don’t think so.”
Nicola looked at him. Oh, well, excuuuse me, she thought. You’d swear that one glass of wine would result in her and Dan getting fluthered and starting an all-out rendition of ‘The Green Fields of France!’ What was Jarlath’s problem, she wondered, taking a large gulp from her own glass and praying that the wine would help settle her unease.
Mrs Hunt said little throughout dinner. Nicola complimented her on her genuinely delicious cooking, but when Dan’s mother declined to comment other than with a quick nod, she gave up. What was the point? Nicola knew enough about human nature to know that it was hopeless ingratiating herself to the woman in the hope that she would soften her attitude. For reasons unknown, she was plainly determined not to like Nicola.
Jarlath’s curiosity more than made up for his wife’s reticence, however. He was full of questions and wanted to know everything about her – where she worked, she lived, her family, her ambitions – everything. He was so businesslike about it that Nicola was expecting him to come out with the ‘where do you see yourself in five years time?’ question.
“Leisure management? What does that involve – organising golf-trips, or something?” He laughed as he said this but to Nicola, there was no mistaking the scorn behind it.
“Not exactly,” she said with a tight smile. “Leisure management involves the day-to-day running of a leisure centre – swimming-pool, gym, fitness programmes, spa, aerobics, that type of thing.”
“Oh? And how did an intelligent-looking girl like yourself get into something like that?” The way he said it, it was as though Nicola was down in Benburb Street every night touting for business.
“I studied for three years in college to get into something like that,” she answered, wishing that she could tell him where to go. This felt like some kind of test. The way Dan went on about them, you’d swear that his parents were contenders for a remake of the Waltons. But his mother had been rude from the very beginning, and now his father was being downright condescending.
After dinner, when the plates had been cleared, the foursome went into the Hunts’ spacious and comfortable lounge. Nicola tried to relax and assumed a casual posture on the comfy leather suite.
“How are plans for the practice going, Dan?” his father asked.
“Very well, actually.” Dan’s eyes lit up. “We’re drawing up the final draft of the partnership agreement at the moment, and hopefully we’ll secure the lease on the office by the end of the month.”
Jarlath nodded. “Let me have a look at the agreement before signature, will you?”
“Dad, I’ve worked with John O’Leary for years, I know what I’m doing.” Dan sounded annoyed.
“No matter. With any legal document you should always have a professional look it over.”
“You hardly think I’d get into this without at least consulting a solicitor, Dad. I’m not totally stupid.”
Nicola listened to the exchange with interest. Jarlath was speaking to his son as though he was an immature sixteen-year-old.
“Nevertheless …” Jarlath insisted.
Dan gave up. “OK, I’ll fax you a copy of it when it’s finished.”
The two men chatted some more about the practice, leaving Nicola and Mrs Hunt sitting in uncomfortable silence together on the couch. Eventually Mrs Hunt brought herself to say something.
“So, Nicola, you’re from Dublin?” she asked as though she was trying to coax a spider out of the bath by talking to it.
Nicola nodded. “Through and through. I was born in the Coombe and raised not far from it – Crumlin, to be precise.”
“Oh – the inner city, then?” Her patronizing tone was unmistakable.
“Well, not exactly, but close enough.” Nicola was half tempted to tell Mrs Hunt that she had been raised in a block of drug-dealing flats, rather than a perfectly respectable corporation three-bedroom semi. And so what if she had been? How she had been raised had a lot to do with the person Nicola was now and, if anything, it had ensured she was more than able for the likes of these two snobs. How had the Hunts raised someone as mild-mannered and down-to-earth as Dan?
“Yes. I live on the Southside now, but ideally I’d love to move back. Impossible though,” she shook her head sadly. “Unfortunately property prices there have gone through the roof.”
“In Dublin certainly, but hardly in the inner city?” That expression again, Nicola thought. She might as well have been talking about downtown Kabul.
“Absolutely. It’s the place to live at the moment. Rather like Manhattan, I suppose – you know – the closer you are to everything the more expensive the property prices? Anyway my parents are still there, lucky things – sitting on a goldmine they are, but of course they wouldn’t sell up for anything.”
She wasn’t about to add that the Peters were still trying to pay off their corporation mortgage but Mrs Hunt’s look of bewilderment was worth the fib.
“I see,” Annabel poured herself a glass of mineral water and didn’t ask any more questions. Nicola was relieved when finally Dan looked at this watch and suggested they head back to Dublin.
“I think they were crazy about you – what do you think?” he asked happily as they drove towards town.
Nicola looked at him. “Um, I’m not really sure about that.”
“Oh, come on. My dad was drooling over you!”
“Do you think so?” Nicola thought that she might have misread the signals.
“Definitely. And Mum …” his face clouded a little, “Mum can be a bit shy sometimes.”
Shy?
“I guessed that,” she said diplomatically. She suspected the Hunts detested her, but if Dan thought they got on OK, then that was the main thing. “Although I’m sure that once your mother gets to know me better,” she added, knowing it was probably wishful thinking, “we’ll all get on absolutely fine.”
31
The next time she and the Hunts met, it was to announce the engagement. It wasn’t long after he and John had officially opened O’Leary Hunt Chartered Accountants and Dan had invited them for dinner at the apartment he was renting temporarily in Bray.
“Married?” Mrs Hunt pealed. “What do you mean married? You’ve only been going out a wet week.”
Nicola remembered her heart dropping like a stone at the time.
“Dan,” Jarlath began nervously, “surely you should wait a little longer before you start making decisions like this, at least until the business is up and running.”
“What are you talking about, Dad? The business has got nothing to do with this. I’ve asked Nicola to be my wife, and she’s accepted. We want to get married as soon as we can.”
“But what’s the rush?” his mother cried, giving Nicola a look of such blatant disdain that she recoiled. “Oh, you’ve gone and got yourself into trouble, haven’t you?”
That was enough for Nicola. She kept her voice even, but her tone was pure ice.
“Mrs Hunt, with all due respect, this isn’t the Dark Ages. I suspect that ‘getting into trouble’ refers to the possibility that I would deliberately
set out to get pregnant in order to trap your son. Please give Dan and me some credit. We’re hardly a pair of immature teenagers.” She could tell that her calm and eloquent speech had completely disconcerted Mrs Hunt, who stood there with pursed lips as Nicola continued. “We’re in love, and we want to get married. What could possibly be wrong with that?”
“Well, it’s all a little bit convenient, isn’t it?” she spat. “A few months ago we didn’t know you from Adam, and then no sooner than Dan sets up on his own, than you’re crawling all over him.”
“Mum!” Dan was aghast.
“Mrs Hunt, if you’re implying that I am some kind of money-grabber, can I remind you again that we’re living in the new millennium, and that very few women these days are in need of a man to support them.” Except yourself, she wanted to add.
“Rubbish. The likes of you will always be looking for a man to support them. You think you’ve really landed on your feet, don’t you? Well, we know all about you and your corporation upbringing.”
“What?” Nicola didn’t think she had heard right. She knew that Dan’s parents were snobs but surely … at that moment she had been too gobsmacked to come up with anything in reply, but Dan had no such problems.
“Get out, both of you,” he shouted at them. “How dare you! How dare you speak to my fiancée like that? I’ve met her family and their pet cat has more integrity in his right paw than either of you two put together – now get out.”
“Dan, you could be making a big mistake here,” Nicola heard Jarlath say as they were unceremoniously escorted to the hallway. “We know what we’re talking about and that girl is all wrong for you.”
“Dad, you haven’t a goddamn clue.”
“Well it’s easy to see where you picked up language like that,” Annabel said nastily, before Dan closed the door in her face.
He looked shocked when he came back into the room. “Oh I’m so sorry, Nicola. I don’t know what to say. Mum has always been a little stuck up but, you’d think Dad would have a little more cop-on.”
