‘This and that,’ he said offhandedly.
‘What time do you have to be back?’ she persisted, eyeing him from beneath her lashes. His jaw jutted straight out as it did when he was annoyed, she remembered.
‘I’m dropping you off and coming straight back.’
‘Oh dear,’ she sighed. ‘I was hoping you could stay until after the consultant’s been. If I get bad news about Dad I’ll be devastated.’
‘What time are you seeing him at?’ Drew flashed an irritable look in her direction.
‘Two. I thought we might have a bite of lunch together beforehand, and then I’d see what’s up.’
‘Sorry, I can’t stay for lunch. I’ve made an arrangement with a friend of mine. She’s expecting me at two thirty,’ Drew said flatly.
‘Oh . . . is she a good friend? Are you seeing someone?’ She couldn’t contain her curiosity, and this was a perfect opportunity to ask the question casually.
‘Marianna, my business is my business, and your business is your business. I’ve no desire to know about your life, and I’ve no desire to tell you about mine. Let’s leave it at that.’ He was so cold still. So bitter.
‘I was only making polite conversation,’ she retorted.
‘No need,’ he said curtly, as he overtook a combine harvester.
Marianna bounced up and down on her seat as he flew over a pothole and hoped she wouldn’t lose her breakfast as well as her chance to win her ex-husband over. Now she was going to be stuck up in Dublin hours too early. And her plans for an intimate lunch and a chance to draw him back into her life had come to nothing.
She tried several times to make conversation as they sped towards the city, but he gave terse, monosyllabic answers, and she desisted eventually, knowing she was banging her head off the proverbial brick wall. And he was built like a brick wall, she thought admiringly, noting his lean, flat stomach and the muscles in his arms and shoulders. The familiar musky clean scent of him when he’d leaned across her to pick up the phone that she’d knocked out of the hands-free with her handbag had brought back vivid memories of how, in the early days of their marriage, he would grab her as soon as he was home from work and kiss her with a passion.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed with a passion, she thought disconsolately as the traffic became heavier and they slowed to a halt at Cornelscourt. They’d be at the clinic in another ten to fifteen minutes, and she’d have lost her chance. What could she do? Marianna racked her brains. A gift voucher. She’d get him a gift voucher to thank him for the lift and drop it over to him in the stables. She’d never been there, and it would give her the chance to have a look around. The girls were always raving about his house and the view from their bedrooms. Perfect, she thought happily. The gift might defrost him a bit. Because defrost him she would, this summer, Marianna decided, as Drew yawned behind his hand and pointedly ignored her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Connie groaned as she got stuck behind a tractor-load of hay on the windy road that led from Mrs Mansfield’s towards Greystones. She wanted to be out of her uniform before Drew got to the house and have time to freshen up. This time of the year, getting stuck behind farm machinery and tractors was inevitable, but it was a nuisance all the same. Her fingers did a tap dance on the steering wheel as she slowed to a crawl.
Ten long minutes later, the tractor took a left turn, and she picked up speed again. Her eyes widened as she drove down the narrow road that led to her house and saw Drew’s jeep already there and the front lawn cut. He was leaning against the gate pillar, on the phone to someone, and he waved when he saw her pull up behind him.
‘Afternoon,’ he said, sliding the phone into the top pocket of his shirt as she got out of the car. ‘I was hoping this was the right house; otherwise someone I didn’t know at all was getting their grass cut. I got here a bit early, as the morning didn’t go as planned. If you let me in the back, I’ll get on with it.’ He was all businesslike.
‘Sure. It looks great. Thanks a lot.’ The front garden looked so neat and tidy compared to how it had looked when she’d left for work that morning.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said politely, but she could tell he wasn’t in good form and was in no mood for polite chitchat or banter. She went into the house and out the back, but he stayed outside until she’d opened the side gate for him.
‘Would you like a cup of tea or a beer?’ she offered.
‘I’ll cut the grass first, if you don’t mind,’ he said, pushing the big mower behind her, along the side of the house. ‘Lovely garden, Connie,’ he said admiringly, gazing around at all the flower-filled pots and the profusion of blossoming shrubbery.
‘It is when it’s not a jungle. I hope to spend more time working in it now that I’m nursing part time,’ she explained, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear.
‘Right, I’ll get going,’ he said, not wasting a minute.
‘I’m just going inside to change out of my uniform,’ she said, a little thrown by his terse manner.
‘Work away,’ he replied, before positioning the lawnmower and starting it up. She watched him from the bedroom, standing back from the window so he wouldn’t see her. He worked methodically, hardly breaking his stride to turn the awkward machine. He looked grim as he marched up and down, and she hoped he didn’t feel she had expected him to cut her grass or that she’d been hinting that he’d do it. She made a face. Men truly were from Mars; there was no dealing with them. She’d been looking forward to him coming to cut the grass, hoping to get to know him better and have a laugh with him. She liked his sense of humour, but there was certainly little of it on display today.
She undressed and changed into a pair of taupe Bermudas and a sleeveless lilac shirt. The weather had changed yet again, and today the northerly breeze had given way to a south-easterly that was warm and humid. She slipped a pair of loafers on to her feet and vacillated over whether to freshen up her make-up. She didn’t want Drew to think she was making a play for him. She compromised by spraying the merest hint of D&G Light Blue on her wrists and neck, and running a brush through her thick auburn hair.
He had the grass cut in ten minutes, and she had the kettle boiled when he was finished. ‘Tea or beer?’ She stuck her head out the back door as he trundled past with the lawnmower.
‘Ah, you’re grand. I’ll head off.’
‘Have a cup of tea at least. I’m very grateful to you, for cutting the grass,’ she protested.
‘Well, a quick cup then. A mug if you have it, or are you into china cups like Mrs M.?’
‘Nope, I like a big mug of tea,’ she assured him. ‘Are you hungry? Did you have any lunch?’
‘Ah, I’ll get something over at the stables,’ he said diffidently.
‘I’ve cold corn beef and homemade beetroot, and pickles and cheese.’ She raised an inquiring eyebrow at him. He was standing with his thumbs hooked into his jeans, with not a flicker of a smile, the lines around his mouth deeply carved, giving him a stern countenance, his eyes lacking their usual teasing glint.
‘Well, as long as it’s no trouble. Are you having some?’ he queried.
‘Yep, I didn’t bother eating at work today, because Rita doesn’t know when to stop piling food on your plate, and I’m going to turn into an elephant if I’m not careful,’ she grinned.
‘I’ll put this away so.’ He indicated the lawnmower.
‘I won’t poison you,’ she said, a trifle acerbically, and was rewarded with a brief grin and a shake of his head. Connie moved swiftly around her kitchen, carving the meat and plating it up attractively. ‘There’s a loo in the hall if you want to wash your hands,’ she said when he came and stood at the back door.
‘A bit of good clean muck never harmed anyone, but I suppose I should for manners’ sake.’ He smiled at her, the tension easing out of his face as he went out into the hall. ‘So how did your second day at work go?’ he asked as he came back into the kitchen.
‘Gra
nd. Mrs M.’s a nice woman to work for. It’s a lot easier than what I have been doing,’ Connie said, feeling inexplicably shy.
‘She’s a lady. She reminds me of my mother – that’s why I like her. She’s of that generation – you know, the sort that were real ladies and would help out a neighbour if they could, and always did the “right thing” by people.’
‘Is your mother still alive?’ asked Connie as she put the plates on a tray containing dishes of beetroot, pickles and wedges of cheddar.
A shadow crossed Drew’s face. ‘No, she died a few years back. I miss her,’ he said simply. ‘My dad died fifteen years ago. Are your parents alive?’
‘Yes, they are. My dad’s great; my mother’s a bit of a briar. We don’t get on so well. She disapproves of me being a divorcee,’ she confessed, lifting the tray to bring it out the back.
‘Let me take that,’ he offered. ‘I take it we’re eating al fresco?’
‘Might as well make the most of the fact that it’s not raining. We ate out all the time in Spain. I love eating out here,’ she said as she followed him to the table with the teapot, mugs and milk.
‘So you’d a good holiday?’ He put the tray on the table, and the two plates of meat where she’d set places for them.
‘Terrific.’ She nodded, as he sat down and she poured the tea. ‘But then I came back to find out that my ex-husband and his wife may be divorcing, and he’s looking for a bed and a place to stay, and he thinks he’s going to get it here. And then, Debbie, my daughter, told me that she thinks my ex’s daughter’s on the road to developing an eating disorder. So it’s back to real life with a bang – even though my plan, once she was married, was to let everyone fend for themselves and just look after myself.’
‘What age is your ex’s daughter?’ Drew asked as he buttered a slice of brown bread.
‘Thirteen, fourteen this year. She’s a good kid. Her mum, Aimee’s, a real career woman, and she’s got unexpectedly pregnant and isn’t happy about it. I think it’s put a huge strain on the marriage. I don’t know. Why can’t they get on with it and keep me out of it?’ she moaned.
‘Exactly.’ Drew lowered his forkful of meat. ‘My ex-wife’s home from the States, and she had the nerve to ask me to bring her to the Blackrock Clinic to see her father this morning because her old bat of a mother wanted to go to the chiropodist and she needed the car. As if I give a hoot about her or her bloody corns,’ he said sardonically. ‘Marianna wanted me to wait with her until she’d spoken to her father’s consultant in case she got bad news, as if I gave a toss about him either.’ He glowered. ‘That old walrus cleaned me out of it when we divorced. He’s a solicitor and, by God, he took me for every penny I had. If it hadn’t been for the girls, I’d have fought him tooth and nail.’ Drew couldn’t hide his anger. ‘And she wants me to have dinner with her? I ask you.’ He was so indignant his eyes were blazing. ‘She took my daughters away from me, and my mother’s grandchildren from her – and my mother grieved the loss of them as much as I did – and Marianna expects me to be all over her when she comes home. She makes me mad as hell.’
‘So that’s why you were rampaging up and down the garden looking like you could murder someone,’ Connie murmured, relieved that she knew what was behind his bad humour and that it had nothing to do with her.
‘Was I that bad? Sorry. It had nothing to do with you.’ He gave her an embarrassed smile.
‘It’s understandable. At least I always had Debbie. Her father made the choice to go to the States. I could never understand how he could leave her, even though he eventually came back to Ireland.’
‘You get on well enough with him now, though, if he’s asking you for a bed,’ Drew remarked as he wolfed a wedge of red cheddar.
‘Not that well,’ she said dryly. ‘Barry seems to think I’m only waiting for him to come back to me and all will be forgiven and we can start over.’
‘And would you like him back?’ He didn’t beat about the bush; his blue eyes studied her intently.
‘Absolutely not,’ Connie retorted.
‘Don’t you mind living on your own?’
‘I have my cat.’ She grinned as Miss Hope rubbed up against her leg. ‘Do you?’ she countered.
‘I have my dog and my horses.’ He leaned back in his chair and smiled good-humouredly across the table at her.
‘Can you ever see yourself having dinner with your ex?’
‘Never,’ he said emphatically. ‘If the girls want me to have a family meal, I do it for their sakes, but me and Marianna on our own? Hell will freeze over first. If I never saw the woman again it wouldn’t bother me.’ He shrugged. ‘You probably think I’m heartless and unforgiving.’ He gave her a wry smile.
Connie shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. Some things are too hard to excuse. I’m sure I’d feel exactly the same if I were in your shoes.’
‘I don’t know. You have a kindness about you, Connie, that I just don’t have,’ he sighed.
‘You’re very hard on yourself, Drew,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t think I’d have coped if Debbie had been taken from me.’
‘It’s different for a mother,’ he observed.
‘No. Not at all. Many fathers love their children equally as much. I always feel terribly sorry for fathers who have to give up living with their children because of divorce. And I feel very sorry for grandparents; they’re often forgotten about. It’s incredibly painful all round. Your path was very hard, and you’ve done really well from what you’ve told me. Your girls have a great father; you should be proud of yourself.’
‘Thanks. My mother said something like that to me just before she died. But she was biased. I appreciate what you’ve just said, Connie,’ said Drew gruffly.
‘You should listen to what your mother said and take it to heart. She knew what she was talking about,’ Connie assured him. ‘And I really mean that.’
Almost of their own volition, their hands reached across the table to each other and, in that brief, silent gesture, a new friendship was born that would last a lifetime.
‘I got this for you, Melissa, it’s just a little gift. I thought you might like it.’ Connie smiled at Barry’s daughter as she handed her over two small boxes.
‘Hey, thanks, Connie, that’s, like, so kind.’ The teenager jumped to her feet and gave Connie a hug that pleased her hugely and which she returned with great warmth, noting that Melissa had indeed lost a lot of weight.
‘Open it,’ she urged. Melissa wasted no time pulling apart the lid of the smaller parcel first, under the amused gaze of Debbie and Connie.
‘Oh, she’s gorgeous! Oh cool, Connie, I love her,’ she exclaimed as she held up a little crystal angel that sparkled in the sunlight. She turned her attention to the second box, and her eyes lit up as she opened it to reveal a shiny, ceramic black cat with green eyes.
‘Oh, Connie, she’s deadly. Random present, thank you very much for thinking of me.’
‘Thank you very much for being so kind to Miss Hope and coming to visit her when I was away.’
‘Oh, that was no trouble,’ Melissa assured her. ‘Debbie and I had good fun that night.’
‘She’s got a good voice – Duffy watch out,’ teased Debbie, and Melissa giggled.
‘OK, let’s have supper,’ Connie suggested, and saw a flicker of tension cross Melissa’s face.
‘I already ate before I came, so just something very small for me,’ she said hastily.
‘Sure, no problem,’ Connie said easily. ‘I made a homemade lasagne and Caesar salad for us.’
‘Oh, I love that,’ Melissa exclaimed, forgetting herself.
‘Me too,’ said Debbie, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table and plonking herself down beside her half-sister. ‘This is nice, a girls’ night.’ She smiled at Connie. ‘It’s great to have you home, Mum. I missed you.’
‘That’s nice to know,’ Connie replied, as she spooned out a helping of lasagne for Melissa.
‘Excuse me, I just need
to go to the loo,’ Melissa said ten minutes later as they were eating their supper.
‘Use the one in the hall if you like, it’s handy,’ Connie said, as alarm registered in Debbie’s eyes.
‘I bet she’s making herself sick, Mum. It’s horrible – what are we going to do?’ Debbie whispered, utterly dismayed as she strained to hear.
‘I’ll have a chat with Barry. Just act as normal when she comes back,’ Connie sighed. She’d done agency nursing in a hospital that had an eating-disorders unit, and she’d found it extremely difficult nursing the young girls who were intent on starving themselves to death. Once anorexia got its claws into you it was very difficult to beat it. If something wasn’t done to help Melissa, she was on the slippery slope to a very tough, hard, miserable life. Why hadn’t Barry or Aimee copped it before now? What was wrong with the pair of them? Melissa was the most precious gift in their lives, and she wasn’t even on their radar. Connie felt like driving over to Dun Laoghaire and tearing strips off them. But that wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Melissa.
She smiled at the girl when she came back to the table, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. ‘I started my new job last Monday,’ Connie said, to distract from the meal. ‘And my new patient, Mrs Mansfield, owns several horses. One of them’s had a foal, and I’m taking her to see it tomorrow. The man who owns the stables brought her a photo of it. It’s a gorgeous little thing. Completely black, with a white star on its forehead. She’s going to call it Frisky, because Drew, that’s the man I was telling you about, says she’s always kicking her heels up and racing around the paddock.’
‘Oh, I’d love to see her. Do you think I could come and see her some time?’ Melissa said eagerly.
‘I’ll arrange that for you, no problem, if it’s OK with your mom and dad,’ Connie assured her.
‘Of course it will be, I’ll be with you,’ Melissa said matter-of-factly, pushing a leaf of lettuce around her plate.
‘Isn’t she superb!’ Mrs Mansfield’s eyes were bright with pleasure as she leaned on Connie’s arm and fed an apple to her new foal.
Happy Ever After Page 32
