Upside Down Inside Out

by Monica McInerney

  She took a deep breath. “It was something between Lainey and me, something from years ago and I’m afraid you got caught up in the middle of it. I’m sorry.” She wanted to tell him more about it. More about how she felt. “I thought you…” She stopped. “I was jealous of her. I have been for years, I’ve realized.”

  “Why?”

  Wasn’t it obvious? “Lots of things. Everything about her. Her looks. Her confidence. Her…” She was faltering, thrown by the expression on his face. A mixture of amusement and something else.

  “Niamh, Lainey seems very nice. She’s very lively, very entertaining. But she’s not you.”

  She turned around in her seat completely. “And is that not too boring? Too ordinary?”

  There was a look in his eyes that made her shiver and tingle at once. “Too boring? You? With your sculpting and the life you lead in Galway and the way you look at things?” He smiled. “No, Niamh, it’s not too boring. Not in a million years.”

  He leaned over and kissed her, his lips soft against hers. “I’m glad you told me that. Told me what had been wrong.”

  “Are you?”

  “You’re very straightforward, aren’t you? There’s no pretense with you.” He touched her cheek. “Now, can I please take you away for the day?”

  She nodded weakly. Straightforward? No pretense? If he only knew the half of it.

  An hour later they were still stuck in city traffic. There were traffic diversions in place all over the city. A visiting head of state, an irate cab driver had shouted in answer to Joseph’s question.

  The windscreen wipers were working hard against the lashing rain. A sign ahead of them pointed to something called the Dandenongs. What were they? Eva wondered. They sounded like body parts.

  The news came on the radio, followed by a long sports report, then the weather. A low off Bass Strait was causing extensive heavy rainfall and fog throughout Melbourne and surrounding areas. Drivers were warned to take extra care, particularly in coastal regions.

  Joseph made a decision. “I promised you a picnic, didn’t I? With ocean views?”

  “You did.”

  “I can’t go back on a promise. Will you trust me if I change part of the plan?”

  “Of course.”

  He turned the car and drove back in the opposite direction. Twenty minutes later, they were parked outside the big hotel on the St. Kilda Esplanade.

  “Will you wait here?” Joseph asked.

  She nodded.

  “Shut your eyes for a minute.”

  She did and heard a rustle of bags and paper from the backseat. Then his voice again. “I’ll be back very soon.”

  “You’d like to book another room with us, Mr. Wheeler?”

  “The best room you have, please. And it has to have sea views.”

  The receptionist nodded. There was a click of keyboard keys. “The penthouse suite is available. It’s got a superior-sized bedroom, a living area, bathroom with spa—”

  “That sounds perfect. I also need a few other bits and pieces, I wonder if you could help me.”

  The receptionist didn’t blink. “Certainly, sir.”

  Ten minutes later, Eva jumped at the sound of a voice at her car window. Joseph was standing there with an umbrella. “If you’d like to come with me, madam?”

  He sheltered her as they walked from the carpark into the foyer. She expected to be taken into the bar area, or into the restaurant section. But instead he led her straight to the lifts.

  “Am I allowed to ask questions?”

  “Of course. But I won’t answer them. This is a surprise.”

  She watched as he pressed the top-floor button. The lift reached its destination in seconds. Eva stepped out first and turned to Joseph, unsure what to do next.

  “Look down. There’s a clue.”

  She looked down at the floor. At first she thought it was an odd pattern. Then she thought someone must have dropped something. Finally she realized what it was.

  A trail of breadcrumbs. Leading from the door of the lift, down the corridor.

  She got it immediately. She’d mentioned it on their train trip. “I should follow this?”

  He nodded.

  She followed the trail along the carpet, turning left, not lifting her eyes until it finally ran out. She was standing in front of a door. A yellow ribbon had been stuck to it.

  He smiled. “After you, Niamh.”

  The room was beautiful. Except it wasn’t a room, it was a suite. An enormous suite.

  They had stepped from the hotel corridor into a living room. One whole wall was windows. Outside was a balcony. On a beautiful day the view would be incredible. Even this morning, with nothing but gray skies and lashing rain to look out onto, it was amazing. Far below was the beach and the sea. Eva could see the wind buffeting the sails of boats moored in the marina to the left. A few people hurried along on the footpath, their clothes billowing around them.

  She turned away and gazed around the whole suite, aware that Joe was watching her every move. To her left was the master bedroom. She couldn’t help but notice that the breadcrumb trail led in there. Her stomach gave a little lurch.

  This must have cost him a fortune. How generous. How romantic. She knew she should be over the moon. Ecstatic at this gesture. But instead Lainey’s words kept flashing into her head. Drug smuggler. Quick and easy money for the right people.

  She knew it was ridiculous. Lainey had nothing to back up her suspicions, nothing at all. But now that the thought was there, she couldn’t get rid of it. She had to bring it out in the open. Now.

  “Joe, I have to ask you something.”

  He waited.

  “Are you a drug smuggler?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Are you a drug smuggler?”

  “Of course I’m not. Why on earth would you think that?”

  “This. This room. Your traveling. The train trips. The flights. The hire cars. Lainey was worried for me. She just thought it was all a bit suspicious.” Eva spoke quickly, feeling more and more foolish. “Joe, I’m sorry to even have to ask it.”

  He interrupted her. “Niamh, believe me, I am not a drug smuggler. I really am an industrial designer in London. And I am on a working holiday. My first holiday in many years. I promise you that all of this has been paid with my hard-earned savings, not criminal profits. But there is some—”

  “Joe, that’s all I need to hear.” He’d told her enough. Now it was her turn. She couldn’t wait another moment.

  “But there’s something I have to tell you, too. I have to clear the air. You think something about me that isn’t strictly true.”

  He waited.

  “It’s about Enya. You know, the singing I told you about?”

  He nodded.

  “Joe, I’m sorry, it’s not true. Lainey and I just made it up. As a kind of joke on Greg, really. I do sing, but I’ve never sung with Enya.” She watched and waited, feeling like she was at an execution. The knife was hanging over her neck.

  To her astonishment, he started to laugh. Really laugh. “And he fell for it? We all fell for it? Oh, Niamh, you know he was telling everyone? His customers? All his staff?”

  “Yes, I gathered he was.” She smiled wanly.

  “I should have guessed. Especially after what you’d said about everyone falling asleep in the studio. But I just thought you had a fantastic attitude to it all. I should have realized then you were making it up.” He laughed again.

  He didn’t mind, she realized. He really didn’t mind.

  “So what do you normally sing? If you don’t actually sing Enya lullabies?”

  She grinned. She could answer him honestly, she could tell him the truth. The wonderful, simple truth. “Anything. Everything. I used to sing in a cover band around Dublin. But I haven’t done a lot of it lately.”

  “I guess not. It’s a long way to drive from Galway to Dublin for a gig, I suppose.”

  Oh dear, she thought. It’s not ov
er yet.

  She was saved by a knock at the door. Joseph answered it. It was room service, with a bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket. Eva’s mind was racing. That had gone okay. One lie down, only a few to go. Did she really need to tell him the whole thing all at once, though? Wouldn’t that be a bit overwhelming?

  No. Tell him now.

  But I’ve told him the truth about Enya.

  Now tell him the rest.

  I will.

  Joseph closed the door and came toward her, carrying the ice-bucket.

  “Joe—”

  “That really is very funny. Poor Greg.” He was still smiling.

  “You don’t mean that at all.”

  “About poor Greg? No, I don’t. Now, madam, that’s enough talking from you at the moment. We’ve established two things. I’m not a drug smuggler and you didn’t sing with Enya. Can we have our picnic now?”

  She nodded, very relieved. She’d done as much confessing today as she wanted to.

  Chicken.

  Oh, shhh.

  Joseph took her hand and led her along the breadcrumb trail into the bedroom. It was another beautiful room with tall windows looking out onto the stormy sea. He had lit the two lamps. They sent a warm, orange light into the room.

  They stopped at the foot of the bed. In the middle of it was a tray with a colorful array of food laid out in pairs. There were two plump olives. Two wafer-thin ginger biscuits. Two handmade chocolates. Two slivers of camembert cheese. Two artichoke hearts. Two pieces of Turkish delight. Two fine slices of smoked salmon. It was like a culinary version of Noah’s Ark.

  Joseph was watching her reaction. “I’m sorry about the weather. I did expect we’d be eating this on the beach.”

  Her heart felt like it was flying around inside her rib cage again. “This is lovely, really. Much better without all that sand.”

  “Please, sit down.”

  She did. He sat just a small distance away from her. “I took a crash course in picnic food. Can I show you what I learned?”

  “Of course.”

  He picked up an olive. “These are called olives. From the Barossa Valley in South Australia, I believe. The hot climate there is very conducive to olive growing.”

  “Is that right?” she said, just as seriously.

  He held it out to her. She opened her mouth and he carefully placed it between her lips. She felt a drop of salty brine run down her chin. He used his finger to catch it and put that in her mouth as well. She gently sucked it.

  “And this is cheese. From a place called King Island. Best served at room temperature.” He picked up a sliver and held it out.

  Again she took it from his fingers and slowly savored the taste. “My turn now?”

  He nodded.

  She chose a chocolate. “This is chocolate.” Her voice was soft. “Handmade, by the looks of things?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll taste it first, shall I? To check that it’s okay?”

  He nodded again.

  She took a bite, then held out the rest to him. He took the chocolate from her fingers, then he moved closer. They were only inches apart. Then they weren’t apart at all. They were kissing, their mouths soft and hot against each other, the chocolate flavor strong and sensual.

  The kiss seemed to last for a long time. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled away from her. “Are you still hungry?” he asked, tracing her face with his finger, touching her lips again.

  “Not at all.”

  He stood up, took her by the hand and pulled her up beside him. He picked up the tray of food and put it to one side. She moved into his arms, into a long kiss. She shivered with pleasure at the feel of his fingers stroking her back. She felt sure that this was what she wanted, all of this, all that was about to happen.

  Moments later she stood in front of him in her bra and knickers. Lacy. Sexy. She helped him take off his T-shirt, loving the feel of his chest under her hand. They kissed again, slow and beautiful. She had just touched the waistband on his jeans when he pulled away from her.

  “Joe? Are you all right?”

  She watched, puzzled, as he moved into the living room, opened the main door and hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the doorknob. Then he locked the door. Pulled the curtains. He came into the bedroom again with a serious expression. “There is still an air vent, but I’m going to take a gamble no one gets through it. I don’t think I can handle another interruption.”

  She laughed. And then she wasn’t laughing. She was kissing him again. He was kissing her. Then they were lying on the bed, both of them naked. The feel of his body against hers was almost too much. The feel of his lips on her face, on her neck. On her breast. The feel of his skin under her fingers. His thighs.

  There was something urgent about it, but there was something slow and sensual and gradual too. There was more kissing. More slow, sensual stroking. She could feel that he was ready. Her body had opened up completely to him too.

  And then there they were, at the contraception moment. He whispered softly in her ear, “I have some condoms here with me. I was hoping we might need them.”

  She whispered back, “So have I. I was hoping too.”

  And then they didn’t need to talk anymore.

  Later she lay in his arms while he gently stroked her back. It had been beautiful between them. Unsure at times, tentative even. But warm and loving and full of promise. She wanted to just lie here. Just hold him. Feel him holding her. But now she’d confessed some of the truth, she wanted to confess it all. She wanted to be in his arms as Eva, not as Niamh.

  “Joe, I need to tell you something else. It’s about my sculpting.” She felt him kiss the top of her head. Felt his fingers start to stroke her lower back again.

  His voice was low. “I think I already know what you want to tell me.”

  She pulled herself up from his chest and looked at him, alarmed.

  “You didn’t really do an inch-high sculpture for Bono’s garden, did you?” he said.

  She realized he was trying to fight a grin. She shook her head. “No, I didn’t.” She couldn’t believe it. He didn’t seem to mind about that either.

  He was laughing out loud again. She could feel the movement beneath her. “I thought that was completely weird. Who on earth would have an inch-high sculpture in their garden? You’d only ever see it in winter, surely.” He laughed again. “Don’t tell me. You and Lainey made that one up too? To fool Greg?”

  Eva smiled, hugely relieved. “Well, the sculpture itself was her idea. But no one had ever asked any details about it, until you, that day in the kitchen. And you caught me on the spot.”

  “Oh, poor, poor Greg.” He didn’t sound in the least sympathetic.

  “Poor Greg,” she agreed.

  “So what else?” he said, moving onto his side and taking her with him. Their bodies were close against each other, their faces just inches apart.

  “What else what?” What else had he guessed?

  “Surely it doesn’t stop there? Let me think. I know, you’re not really Irish, are you? That beautiful voice isn’t real. This beautiful skin isn’t real. These eyes. This nose. This neck. This? And this?” He was kissing her as he said each word.

  “No, they’re all real,” she managed to say before her body surrendered to waves of feeling again.

  Well, she’d tried, she thought as his lips moved lower down her body. As she gasped at a rush of pleasure, two thoughts crossed her mind. Maybe it wasn’t too late to take a sculpting course. Or move to Galway.

  CHAPTER 35

  It was six in the evening. Joseph lay alone in the bed, looking out of the window at the last of the light playing on the water. He thought about Niamh. About the afternoon they’d had together. About her beautiful body, her soft skin. He’d never felt such an overwhelming passion for a woman before. Not just when he was touching her, kissing her, making love with her. But talking to her. Being with her. And he felt as though she wanted to be with him as much as he wante
d to be with her. He just hoped what he was about to tell her, about his company and his real life, wouldn’t change anything.

  He glanced over at the bathroom door. As soon as Niamh came out of the shower he was going to tell her everything.

  The bedside phone started to ring. He picked it up.

  “Joseph?”

  “Yes.”

  “That is Joseph Wheeler?”

  “It is.”

  “Joseph, it’s Rosemary.”

  “Rosemary?”

  “Oh, Joseph, thank God I found you.”

  “How did you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “It’s been extremely difficult. I think I’ve rung every hotel in Australia.”

  “Rosemary, what’s wrong? Is it about the Canadian offer?”

  “No, it’s not about Canada. It’s much more urgent than that.”

  “How urgent?”

  “Maurice has disappeared.”

  “He’s what?”

  “Maurice has disappeared. With all your money.”

  Joseph sat up straight. Was he hearing right? His accountant had done a runner? “Rosemary, is this a joke?”

  “No, Joseph, it’s not. The auditor discovered it. He thinks Maurice has been siphoning off money for the past two years. Not just from you, from all his clients.”

  “What? How could Maurice have got away with it?”

  “He covered his tracks very well. Last year’s auditor didn’t notice a thing. But we used a different firm this year.”

  “And Maurice?”

  “He’s just vanished. He’s not home anymore, he’s not anywhere. Even his wife doesn’t know where he is. She’s devastated. I’d had e-mails from him until two days ago that we assumed he was sending from home. He could be anywhere by now. Spain. South America. The police are trying to track him down.”

  “I can’t believe this. How did he do it?”

  “He used every trick in the book, the auditor thinks. Fake invoices, payable to him. A separate Wheeler Design bank account with him the sole signatory.”

  Joseph shut his eyes. Two years ago he’d made Maurice the sole signatory on any transactions under ten thousand pounds. Maurice had advised him it was the most efficient way of handling things. “It’ll save me bothering you with every little matter,” he’d said.