The WWW Club

by Anita Notaro

  “Yes.” Olga shrugged. “These are to pick me up in the morning. Mornings are not good, mostly.”

  “Sit down, dinner is ready.” Olga’s eyes had a vacant look and Ellie wanted to throw her arms around her friend.

  “I brought us a bottle of red wine.”

  “Oh Olga, you shouldn’t have. I purposely didn’t bring some because of my diet.” Ellie made a face. But Olga was already opening the bottle and pouring them each a large glass. She swallowed a tablet with hers.

  “Are you sure you should be …?” Her voice trailed off. She sounded like her own mother.

  “Don’t worry, my friend. It’s OK. A little wine won’t hurt. Cheers.” She raised her glass. “And thank you, my dear, sweet Ellie. You are my very good friend and I love you.”

  “Then tell me what’s wrong. What’s really bothering you?”

  “Nothing. I feel a bit trapped here lately. But it will pass.”

  “Is it the baby?”

  “The baby, the flat, no job, no money, everything.”

  “What about that rich farmer? You’ll have to get out more if you want to find him.” Ellie smiled gently.

  Olga did one of her accents as she told Ellie about a dating program she’d watched earlier and soon she seemed back to her old self. Ellie relaxed a little and decided she’d try to call in more often.

  Toni was sticking reasonably well to the healthy eating plan and a couple of her friends at work had said how well she looked. A couple of days after the incident with Gordon Thornton a huge bunch of lilies arrived at the nursing home addressed to Toni Nightingale. She was puzzled for a second as she ripped open the card and then not surprised at all after she’d read the message.

  Thanks for saving me a fortune in Pringle sweaters. Any chance you’d stop looking down your nose at me long enough to have a drink?

  He hadn’t signed it. Arrogant bastard, she thought, but she approved. And those flowers had cost more than a new sweater, which pleased her.

  He rang the next day but she pretended to be busy and asked if she could call him back. He said he’d call again later for a chat. He did call but she didn’t chat. She let him ring twice more before she spoke to him.

  “Jesus, who are you, Mary McAleese or something? It’s like trying to get an appointment with royalty.” But he was laughing, she could tell from his voice.

  “I’m a busy girl.”

  “And an extremely attractive one, may I say. Sorry if I was a bit off form the other night. My Chablis premier cru was getting warm.”

  “Lucky you. My bedpans were getting full.”

  “I thought you were just about to go off duty? Or were you lying to me, Nurse?”

  “Actually I was off duty already when you nabbed me.”

  “How was your weekend?”

  “Fine, relaxing. A few very late nights,” she lied. She didn’t ask him about his, or acknowledge the bouquet. It was all part of the game.

  “I wondered if you’d like to come sailing with me on Saturday. The forecast is good for this time of year. You could stretch out on deck and guzzle a glass of Krug.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t stretch out anywhere with married men, and I’ve guzzled many things in my life but Krug is not one of them. It needs to be savored.” She liked his dirty chuckle.

  “Well, I’ll be in on Friday to see Dad. At least let me buy you a bite of supper at the Tea Rooms to say thank you properly. And I promise you won’t have to lie down once. Just sit there nicely and sip Dom P.”

  “I’m on until nine.”

  “I’ll come in late.”

  “I don’t drink and drive.”

  “My driver will take you home and drop you wherever you want to go next morning.”

  He was persistent, she had to hand it to him. “Let me think about it.”

  “I’ll be in about eight and I’ll wait in the car for you.”

  He hung up at the same time as she did, but she guessed he marginally beat her to it, which was unfortunate. She thought about it on and off all day. He was wealthy and powerful and that gave him a very sexy aura. She liked his sense of humor as well. And she supposed he wasn’t bad-looking—which helped. He could be a bit over the top sometimes with his Dom P this and Bolly that, but she was attracted, and she’d known this was coming for ages. That evening she phoned Ellie for a chat, not intending to say anything.

  “How are you?” she asked in the “you poor thing” voice she used often during the day. “You weren’t well and the club missed you.”

  “I’m fine, great.”

  “What was wrong?”

  “Nothing, just a shit day and I couldn’t be arsed, to tell you the truth. Also I did have a bit of a cold coming on,” she thought she’d better add, in case Toni didn’t like the sound of the couldn’t-be-arsed bit. “How did it go, anyway? I’ve been so busy that I haven’t spoken to anyone.”

  “The usual. How’s the job going, by the way?”

  “Actually, very good. I’m settling in. He doesn’t really bother me, and the kids are easy.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Fine, mostly. A bit intense, as I think I told you.”

  “I mean to look at. Any chance of a bit of nookie there?”

  “For you or for me?” Ellie laughed out loud at the idea.

  “Me, of course.”

  “God, no.” She assumed he’d be too uptight to unwind long enough to have sex. “He doesn’t seem interested and, besides, he’s married.” Ellie wasn’t sure why she said it. He wasn’t really.

  “Speaking of which … G & T sent me flowers and wants me to have dinner with him on Friday.”

  “And will you?”

  “Probably.”

  “Be careful. I already told you I don’t want you getting hurt. You could be biting off more than you can chew.”

  “Darling, at best I’ll get sex, presents, maybe even a car, but I don’t do pain. I see enough of it all day.”

  “Toni, we’ve talked about this before. Presents are great but they’re not what it’s about, you know? ‘Can’t buy me love’ and all that stuff.”

  “I was joking about the car. I do have some principles, darling.” Toni sighed. “Actually, I’d do it for the excitement. He’s fun. I feel important when he’s around. He could take me places …”

  “Not many when there’s a wife on the scene.”

  “He’s already invited me onto his yacht and to practically every good restaurant in the city. I’d say they lead fairly separate lives.” Toni wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince.

  “Well, keep me posted.”

  “OK, hon. Talk soon, ciao.” She mouthed a kiss down the phone and Ellie laughed as she hung up. She didn’t have to worry about Toni, it was the man in question she felt sorry for, although on second thoughts maybe not in his case. She had a weird feeling about G & T. And no matter how much Toni pretended, Ellie knew her friend was as vulnerable as the rest of them.

  Twenty-one

  “But, Mum, it’d be so cool.” Paul was starting to look like a younger version of his father. It was the way his blond hair fell across his face. His bright blue eyes were pleading and he pushed away his hair petulantly.

  “I said I’d think about it.”

  “You just don’t want us to have any fun.” Andrew had no such problems with his hair. He’d recently discovered gel and it was costing her a fortune. He was the image of Pam, chubby faced with an almost permanent grin.

  “Listen,” Pam gave her two offspring a look that had withered half the shopping elite of Dublin 4, “just leave it, OK?”

  Ten-year-old Paul started to say something else but his older, wiser brother pulled his jumper. “C’mon, let’s go outside and kick a ball around.”

  Pam was furious. It was just like her ex. When she hadn’t come back to him immediately with the response he wanted, Stephen had “casually” mentioned what might be on the cards in an e-mail to the boys. After he’d promised her he wouldn’t.


  She wanted to spit.

  The real problem was that she hadn’t figured it out for herself yet. She’d tried to talk to her mother about it the previous night, but she’d pooh-poohed Pam’s reservations and insisted it would be great for the boys. It was her parting words that had stung the most. “You can’t hang on to them forever, Pamela,” she’d said in her best Mother Superior tone, or maybe it just sounded like that to Pam’s embattled ears. It wasn’t like her mother to be so judgmental. “Don’t become a clinging vine or they won’t be able to wait to get away from you once they’re older,” she’d warned, moving herself into second place on Pam’s want-to-kill list.

  She’d rung Ellie as soon as she put the phone down.

  “Is it normal to hope your mother meets her death by stoning, or something even more violent?” she had asked sarcastically, without as much as a greeting.

  “That bad?”

  “As soon as I told her about Stephen’s call, she lit on me, called me a creeping ivy or something.”

  “A clinging vine, perhaps?”

  “She’s a bitch.”

  “Listen, your mother’s fine, she probably just couldn’t help offering advice. It goes with the territory.”

  “Fine compared to whom, exactly?”

  “Mine?” Ellie had ventured. “OK, point taken.”

  “Have you thought anymore about it?”

  “What do you think? It’s keeping me bolt upright in bed. I’m a basket case.”

  “You’ll do the right thing, I know it.”

  “What would you do, Ellie?”

  She thought for a moment. “Probably let them go and cry myself to sleep for a week after they’d gone.”

  “I don’t think I can do it. It’s too long and it’s too far and they’re too young and it’s Christmas. Call me a selfish pig but that’s the way I feel.”

  “Look, just live with it for a while longer, but try not to let it take over your life. And at least they don’t know anything about it yet, that’s a relief.”

  Of course, all that had changed by the following evening and they’d been pestering her ever since. There was simply no other topic of conversation and twelve-year-old Andrew, at least, was behaving exactly like his father. It was doing her head in.

  When she called them in for tea an hour or so later, they’d obviously decided to try a different tack.

  “Thanks, Mum, that’s great.” Andrew tucked into bacon and cabbage as if it were a Big Mac with double cheese.

  Paul was less effusive, or maybe wasn’t quite as much of a hypocrite. She gave him the benefit of the doubt until he announced, “I’ll do the dishes.” Washing pots was right up there with drilling your tooth without an injection as far as her youngest son was concerned. Still, she let them pamper her and took the cup of tea and chocolate biscuit with as gracious a smile as she could muster, given that she was about to assassinate somebody.

  Their new plan lasted about an hour, and then they started again.

  “Please, Mum, I’ll do anything. I’ll work all next summer, I’ll keep my room tidy, I’ll even do Gran’s shopping every week.”

  “And I’ll … I’ll rinse the bath after me and … and … I’ll clean the skid marks off the toilet.” Paul beamed, knowing if anything could change her mind, that would. It was the job she hated most in the whole world.

  “It’s right up there with wiping someone’s bum,” she’d yelled at them only last week in a temper, “and I wiped both of yours for long enough. I do not intend to continue.” She’d almost laughed at the look of disgust on their faces. They were mannerly boys, even if they were a handful, and she knew she shocked them sometimes with her outbursts. The manners came from their father, he was always perfectly polite—irritatingly so. Shame he hadn’t stuck around long enough to teach them how to do a bit of housework, or pick up after themselves.

  Now she looked at their two faces, Paul’s angelic one and Andrew’s silently pleading one and knew she’d lost this fight.

  “If—and it’s a big if—I do let you go, you’ll be doing a lot more than that.” Most of the sentence was lost in their whoops of joy.

  “I’m not promising,” she cautioned, but Paul ran toward his room and she’d be willing to bet he was already packing.

  Andrew gave her a hug. “Thanks, Mum. I love you.”

  “I haven’t said yes yet.”

  “But you will, I know that face.” He grinned cheekily. “Can I ring Dad?”

  “No you cannot.” She saw his face. “Andrew, one word to anyone and it’s off, OK? I want to work out the details myself and then I’ll talk to your father. After that you can speak to him about it. Now, go tell your brother the same. Not a whisper, not even by e-mail, or you’re spending Christmas in Shannon with Aunty Phyllis.” Threatening them with her mother’s very mean sister was akin to promising them a weekend without computer games—unbearable—so she reckoned she was safe enough, for now.

  Ellie was enjoying the rest of the week after the earlier trauma. Jack seemed finally to relax a bit with her, and the kids were a joy. They went swimming twice, played tennis and rounders in the autumn sunshine and baked buns for Sam’s friend’s birthday party. They were icing them and Jess was covered in colored bits when Kate dropped by again on Thursday, just as Jack put his head into the kitchen to grab a coffee.

  “What’s going on here? It looks like fun. Is it a party, and if so, why wasn’t I invited?” he asked.

  “I made this.” Jess held up a bun that looked good but weighed a ton.

  “Mmm, I’d love some of that.” Kate went to grab a bite and the child squealed and hid under the table.

  “Try one of mine,” Sam offered, “but wait until we put the cocunut and jam on top.”

  Jack made the three of them a cup of coffee and was just about to retreat to his study when Kate stopped him.

  “Fancy a BBQ at my place tomorrow evening?”

  Jack looked puzzled. “It’s Bill’s birthday and I thought we’d open a bottle of bubbly and eat early, before we freeze.” Kate smiled.

  “Is it not a bit late in the year to be outdoors?”

  “Bill has this tradition.” She gave Ellie a look that said he was mad but she loved him enough to indulge him. “He claims that if he can eat out on his birthday without his fingers going numb he’s still young. So last year we all wore hats and gloves and layers and fought like cats and dogs to be sitting closest to the patio heater. How pathetic is that?”

  Ellie looked a bit bewildered. It did sound odd. “You’ll understand once you’ve met him.” Jack smiled at her.

  “Sorry, Kate, I completely forgot. Be an angel and buy him something nice from me, will you?” Jack turned to the kids. “What do you think, girls?”

  “Can I have some of the bubbly stuff?”

  “Not unless you mean Coke?”

  “OK.” Jess always gave in far too quickly. Kate sensed the lightness in the atmosphere and was pleased.

  “Speaking of meeting him, will you join us, Nora?” she asked quickly.

  “Oh no, I couldn’t. But thanks for asking.”

  “Why? My husband is dying to meet you. He thinks you have plaits and yodel. Please come, it’ll be early, about six, so you can eat with us and leave if you’re going out later.”

  Ellie hesitated, uncomfortable, sure they’d rather be on their own, as a family.

  “Please come, Nora, I want to show you Percy.”

  “Sounds like you’ve no choice,” Jack added.

  “OK, if you’re sure, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  “Nonsense, you’re part of the family.” Kate desperately wanted to include her, so that she’d become close to them and stay on as a nanny. The girl was remarkable—pleasant and efficient and warm and the house was finally beginning to feel like a home.

  “OK, well, we’ll bake a cake for your husband. How about that? Do you want to be my assistants?” she asked the two cream-and jam-covered faces next to her.

 
; The girls whooped with delight and pulled open the larder door to get flour and sugar and anything else that had a picture of a cake on the packet. Ellie had no idea how to bake a cake, the buns had been courtesy of Betty Crocker. “If I can find a recipe, that is.” She laughed nervously and went to wash her hands and ring Pam.

  Next day the girls were in a state of high anxiety. The cake, although lopsided and a bit thinner than she expected considering it contained enough eggs to make an omelette for a family of ten, had been left to cool overnight and was now being iced, with the help of a million e numbers in the little bottles of coloring they’d found in the cupboard. Sam had wanted to do the writing on top and had started with a very passable “happy,” but then forgot about “birthday” and just put “Bill.” She was deeply disappointed when she discovered her mistake and time was not on their side.

  “I’ll tell you what, let’s just put a question mark after “Bill” and see if he’s not delighted with it.” Ellie did the appropriate squiggle.

  “What’s a mark?”

  “We’re asking Bill if he’s happy, see?”

  “Of course he is, it’s his birthday, silly.”

  “Yes, but this is asking if he’s happy with the cake.” It was a tenuous link but she needed to get them ready. It was already ten past five.

  While they were dressing, Ellie changed into jeans and a warm, funky sweater by one of her favorite Irish designers. It had been a massive purchase for her but it was soft and feminine and girly and she loved it to bits. She put on a bit of foundation, blusher and lippy and unpinned her hair. She heard the shower going and Jack emerged twenty minutes later in clean black jeans and a fine-knit black roll-neck sweater. His hair was still damp and he was wearing small, square, black-rimmed glasses. He looked different, younger, a bit preppy. She liked it.

  “Daddy, you’re wearing your glasses, you look like 007,” Sam announced dramatically. She’d watched the latest Bond movie with her older cousins the previous weekend.

  “I’m going to assume that’s Pierce Brosnan and not Sean Connery.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind, I’m only wearing my glasses ’cause my eyes are a bit tired today, that’s all.”