‘Is that so?’ Her look arch. ’Well that’s no reason for not wanting him to take you out for lunch is it? I’d have jumped at the chance.’
‘Well, I’m not you.’
‘Obviously not,’ running her hands over her hips encased today in tight hot pink silk she continued. ‘So he’s a doctor then?’
‘No – a professor.’
‘Professor?’
But instead of answering the question she leant forward to kiss her on the cheek. ‘I really do wish you both every happiness but I’ve a boat to catch.’
‘Hold on a mo.’ Iris grabbed her hand. ‘Where are you off to? You know, just in case there’s an emergency.’
‘There won’t be an emergency Iris, and if there is just dial 999 - they’ll know what to do.’
The boat journey over the Irish Sea was better than she’d expected, probably because she knew what to expect. Arriving in Holyhead just as dusk was falling wasn’t exactly her idea of good planning, but at least she felt a lot happier than the last time she’d made the two hour journey. At least this time she knew there’d be no Henry, or indeed Derry waiting to disrupt her future. This time there was no one, and in a way she preferred it. The future might be unknown in that she had no job, no home and no idea what lay ahead but there was also no man up ahead to annoy her or call the shots.
‘Here let me help you – they look heavy.’
Glancing across at the six foot tall handsome stranger decked out in biker black leathers, his hand already outstretched in the direction of her rucksack and holdall she thanked God she was still wearing her wedding ring. Yes he was cute, but she knew all too well just how far cute would get her.
She offered him a smile of thanks, but only a brief one before turning and looking over her shoulder. ‘Er, thanks all the same, but my husband is following with the twins…’
She nearly laughed at the look on his face – if she’d had her phone switched on she’d have posted it on Instagram but she’d have had to have been quick the way he exited around the corner with a hasty apology glued to his lips.
Slinging her rucksack over her shoulders she grabbed her bag and headed towards the train station and then towards Llandudno Junction. Settling down in the familiar carriage she allowed herself to relax for the first time since sitting in the church with her dad. Her mind wandered, not back to Dublin but to Cork and the romantic honeymoon she’d arranged for Michele and Fergus at Lobster Cottage. She’d nipped down with Grainne a couple of days before to ensure the fridge and cupboards were stocked just as the wood burner was all ready and waiting for the flick of a match. In fact what she’d done was create the type of honeymoon she’d always wanted: some far away cottage holed up with only the man of her dreams to distract her. Instead of which she was heading for some unknown destination just because she’d liked the sound of it all those years ago.
She didn’t know anything about Llandudno apart from that it was beside the sea and had a hospital seeking staff to work in its minor injury unit: she’d get a cat and a flat and be done with it.
Changing trains at Llandudno Junction was easy, being as she was unhampered by handsome strangers offering their assistance and arriving in Llandudno she hopped into a waiting taxi and asked to be dropped off by the sea. It was dark and a fine drizzle had started to set in, but with her job interview first thing in the morning she wanted to assure herself that, in Llandudno she’d find Victorian seaside gentility at its best. At the first sign of an amusement arcade or strip joint she’d turn on her heel and take the next train out.
‘Alright luv, here for a holiday are you?’
She sighed, having forgotten about the fatherly type with tatts trailing up his arms. Taxi drivers were the same all the world over.
‘Sort off.’
‘Where are you staying then, not much open mid-February?’
‘I hadn’t really thought…’
‘Well how’s about I drop you off the pier end? I saw a few signs with vacancies earlier and if you need a meal you couldn’t do better than...’
‘I’ll probably just get fish and chips.’ She interrupted in an effort to stem the outpouring of words streaming from his mouth.
‘Ah, pretty girl on her own, probably very sensible. There’s Fish Tram Chips about five minutes away, just nestled at the base of The Great Orme.’ He continued, pulling to a stop, ‘easy to find too, just follow the signs for the tram.’
‘The Great Orme?’
‘That big hill in front of you luv!’
She paid up with a smile before crossing the road to the promenade, the twinkling lights of the pier calling to her. Dropping her rucksack she flopped to the ground and let the silence of the evening envelop her, her eyes scrolling over the beach, now empty in the gathering dusk.
It would do.
It would do as a place to live. It wasn’t home, but it could be. She’d just have to learn to forget first.
The interview went as expected. She had the experience they were looking for and they were situated in a part of the world she could learn to love. No, that wasn’t quite true; she reminded herself picking up her bags from the White Heather Hotel and making her way to Mostyn Street and then back to the train station. She already loved Wales, or at least the little part where she’d lost her heart, and that’s where she was heading for now. She had to wait a couple of weeks for them to check references and, although she couldn’t really afford it she’d decided to head back to where she’d been happiest. There’d be plenty of time for flat, and cat hunting later.
Chapter Thirty Three
Derry tucked his 2CV in behind the removals van, the frown of all frowns punctuating his brow. Hopping out of the car he didn’t bother to lock it; for who in their right minds would think there was anything to steal in his car! Instead he made his way through the door of the manse to find a group of lads crowding around Iris, mugs of tea glued to their hands, eyes glued to her chest. He smiled inwardly even as he ensured his eyes stayed where they were meant to – her face. Looking past them there was no sign of Mabel, or indeed Henry.
‘Oh, hello there.’ Iris spotted him and, brushing past the removals men wriggled up to him with a saucy smile. ‘We met at the wedding, I’m Iris.’
Of course you are, he said silently, having great difficulty in suppressing his grin.
‘And you’re Mabel’s professor.’ She added, her smile waning slightly. ‘She’s not here you know. There’s only little ole me and these nice men helping clear out the last of Henry’s furniture.’
‘You’re moving then: you and Henry and Mabel?’ His mind taking him through a torrent of images he really didn’t want to give head room to. Obviously Mabel wasn’t quite the girl he’d thought if she was going to…’
‘Well yes and no.’ She said, dragging a long red tipped nail across his hand. ‘Why don’t I make you a coffee and we can talk about it.’ She threw a look at the men standing silently watching. ‘Pop your mugs in the sink boys, I’ll be with you in a minute.’
The kitchen finally empty he leant up against the cold Aga and waited as she started filling the kettle. He was going to have to play her little game if he was going to get anything useful out of her even down to sharing a coffee, but that’s all he was sharing.
‘So you and Henry then?’
‘We’re getting married, didn’t Mabel tell you?’ She threw him a quick glance. ‘We fell in love at their wedding, which was a little unfortunate but you can’t plan these things now can you. We’ve bought one of those purpose built apartments in Milltown with views over the golf course.’ She added, handing him the black coffee he’d asked for.
‘I hope you’ll be very happy.’
‘Oh, we will be.’
‘So Mabel isn’t going to be living with you?’
‘Not half!’ Mabel and I don’t really see eye to eye about quite a lot of things.’ She frowned. ‘I thought she’d have told you about her plans?’
‘I was hoping to see her to
day.’ He smiled briefly. ‘But I seem to be too late.’
‘Yes well – she headed off straight after the wedding.’ She picked up her cup, and taking a deep sip looked at him from over the brim. ‘I’m not sure I should be telling you all this. Mabel is a nice girl.’ She laughed, ‘much nicer than the likes of me.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true. You said she headed off yesterday after your lunch…’
‘There was no lunch silly. She was having you on. She headed off as soon as your back was turned.’
‘To? His voice deceptively soft.
‘How the hell am I meant to know that? It’s not as if I was in her confidence or anything. You could try her boyfriend of course.’
Making his way back to the car he discounted Iris’s comment – for if Mabel had a boyfriend he’d have known about it. He’d have felt it in the way she’d looked at him and the way she’d avoided his gaze. He smiled to himself. She’d avoided his eyes, but with the clear embarrassed clarity of an innocent – he’d have known if she’d been withholding something as important as a boyfriend.
None of which solved his problem of finding her, that is until he remembered Ruari. Ignition key in hand he paused to thump the steering wheel before starting the car and heading home.
Grainne had just lifted the twins out of the bath to wrap them in huge pink fluffy towels when the phone went. Grabbing the portable from their bedside table she headed back in to supervise PJ donning and teeth cleaning.
‘Hi, it’s Derry Yeats from college.’
‘Oh, Roar isn’t back yet but I’ll…’
‘Well it’s not really Ruari I need to speak to.’ There was a pause on the line.
‘This is all a bit awkward but I need to see Mabel - I’m not sure where she’s gone?’
‘I’m not sure I can help you there. She told us not to tell anyone.’
‘I was thinking of asking her dad,’ he continued.’ But I don’t want to interrupt his honeymoon…’
‘You can’t do that,’ her voice shrill. ‘Have you tried her mobile?’
‘What I need to say to her has to be said face to face.’
‘Okay, but if I tell you I’ll need to know you’re not going to upset her. She’s running from something or someone – Is it you?’
‘Probably!’
‘Derry Yeats If I find you’ve hurt her I’ll set Roar on you, he’s a black belt you know.’
‘I do now!’
‘Okay, but I mean it - All we know is she had a job interview in some Welsh hospital – Clan something or other.’
‘Llanrwst?
Llandudno?
Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch?’
‘You what,’ There was another brief pause. ‘The second one I think.’
She heard a sigh of relief at the other end. ‘I really didn’t think you’d tell me.’
‘Well, a very long time ago I ran away from Ruari, probably very much the way Mabel is running, and before you interrupt – I’m not fishing. If a very dear friend of ours hadn’t whispered where I’d gone…’ Her eyes caught the sight of Adele and Megan smothered in toothpaste, but for once she did nothing but laugh. ‘I’ll have to go, good luck to you, and after you’ve sorted it all out give Mabel a hug from me.’
Chapter Thirty Four
Llandudno was a complete waste of time, or at least the hospital was as far as the sharing of information went. He’d phoned ahead with some cock and bull story about needing to get in touch with her urgently, but they were having none of it. He finally decided to call in a few favours from a fellow heart specialist now practicing in North Wales, but even he couldn’t tell him anything. Yes, they’d interviewed her and yes, she'd accepted their job offer but after that it was as if she’d fallen off the edge of the world. He’d risked a sacking from Trinity with his misuse of the phone usage policy but he didn’t care. There were over three hundred hotels, B&B’s and self-catering apartments in Llandudno and he’d phoned them all. So either she’d gone back to Ireland to wait it out or… or nothing. He was completely out of ideas.
Sitting at his desk full to the brim of half read research papers not to mention reams of post-it notes doted across every available space he rested his head in his hands ready to give up. He’d lost her for good this time, and the worst thing about it was it was his own fault. He’d nearly jumped her outside the manse not to mention calling her a liar to her face. He raised his head briefly to look at the mess that was his desk. A complete disaster zone and the one reason he never let Michele within a mile of it. Michele with her quirky filing system and even quirkier taste in food: Michele with her kind heart and generous spirit. Michele, who if he’d played his cards right could even now be purchasing a hat larger than a satellite dish for her future step-son-in-law’s wedding!
His eyes fixed on the only part that was absolutely perfect: the photo in the plain wood frame perched on the corner with a post-it note stuck to the corner. With a swift movement he plucked off the yellow sheet, and without even looking at it threw it in the bin. It wasn’t important: all that mattered was the selfie of Mabel and him taken on their wedding day for, in truth that’s what it still was to him. They might not be married in the eyes of the church or indeed the law but that made no difference to the way he felt about her. They’d looked happy, hadn’t they - they’d just planned their future together after all, even down to the amount of kids. They’d had it all. He sat back in his chair and, shuffling his glasses on to his forehead massaged the sides of his nose before settling them back in place over his ears. The one thing he knew was he wasn’t prepared to give up on her, even if it meant following her across the Irish Sea.
Feeling invigorated for the first time since the ceremony he started flipping through the desk diary in front of him jotting down all his lecturing commitments for the next couple of weeks. Quite a few of his fellow lecturers owed him and he was about to call in their debts.
His journey to Wales was a lot quicker and a lot more comfortable than Mabel’s, simply because he’d chartered a plane. Landing in Caernarfon Airfield less than two hours later he shook hands with the pilot before slinging his holdall over his shoulder and telling Curly to heel. There was a hire car waiting for him, a shiny black Bentley Continental with only a handful of miles on the clock, but he missed his 2CV all the same. However he had to admit the car ate up the miles as he raced along the A487 to Bangor and then the A55; arriving in Llandudno with plenty of time to book into a hotel for the night. He’d made no plans other than to head to where she was last - but he’d watched enough episodes of Midsummer Murder’s to have some vague sort of an idea. She must have stayed somewhere. She must have eaten too, but first thing in the morning he was going to start with the easiest starting point of all – the taxi rank by the train station.
Driving along the seafront he lowered the window to sniff the sea breeze blasting off shore in a mid-February mini gale. He hadn’t been to Llandudno since a kid, but he still remembered the Pier flanked on all sides by an assortment of hotels. He’d had the foresight to book as finding a hotel with parking and room for a dog was more than he wanted to do at this time of night. Negotiating the tight parking space he allowed himself to rest back in the seat, but only for a moment the image of Mabel being quickly dispersed by that of Curly landing into his lap with the end of his lead dangling from his teeth. Patting his head he jumped out of the car and headed towards the prom. His thoughts would have to wait until later.
Later was while he was sitting in the rear garden of the first pub that would allow dogs to darken its doors, a plate of steaming steak and ale pie in front of him - the first food he’d been able to face since yesterday. As he dipped his fork between succulent steak, mouth-watering pastry and gravy to die for he allowed his thoughts to meander back to the problem in hand – Mabel.
They were meant to be together, that is if there was any sense in the world. He’d fallen in love with her without even seeing her for God’s sake
– Whoever said love was blind had it right, although he very much doubted that when ole Bill Shakespeare coined the phrase he was actually talking about him and Mabel. He was probably at the start of some eulogy or other about the perfectness of womanhood or some such twaddle.
Scraping the remains of his mash and carrots onto the back of his fork he spared a thought for Iris and Michele, for both girls had chosen partners away from the accepted perfect mould – and yet both seemed idyllically happy with their choice, Although in Iris’s case perfection being helped just a tad by the size of Henry’s hefty bank balance.
In Mabel there was no such attraction to sweeten the deal. In truth she was a faded woman: a mere shadow of the girl she’d been five years ago. She had no money, no accoutrements to glam the deal like designer clothes and shoes; no posh haircut or posh make-up. In fact he couldn’t remember her wearing any make-up five years ago. He placed his empty glass of real ale on the table, although he wasn’t seeing the glass or indeed the plate with the knife and fork carefully placed together in the centre. He wasn’t in the beer garden huddled under the heater along with a couple of other hardy souls puffing away on their fags. He was back in Olif’s looking across at the most beautiful girl in the world; the most beautiful girl who didn’t need any colour palette from L’Oréal or Arden to improve on perfection. Only the sound of the waitress removing his plate and offering him the sweet menu pulled him back into the present. He sat considering the benefit of rhubarb over syrup sponge. He’d really prefer another pint but that was out of the question if he was to be up at the crack of dawn to speak to the taxi drivers taking passengers on their early morning commute.
He was no better off. Despite the optimistic start of actually finding her taxi driver and following her footsteps into Fish Tram Chips he was no better off. They remembered her but that was all. She wasn’t in Llandudno, or if she was he couldn’t find her. Whilst he didn’t want to give up he knew he was on a wild goose chase, a wild goose chase he should have never embarked on in the first place. She was running away and who could blame her? With Henry and Iris now an item and her dad out of the picture there’d only ever been him and he’d well and truly cooked that goose – probably the same goose he was now chasing across both Ireland and Wales! She could be anywhere and, apart from hiring a private investigator he was out of ideas.
Unhappy Ever After Girl (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 3) Page 19
