She bit her thumbnail again. What would it be like when she finally plucked up the courage? She supposed he’d tell her that it was all a mistake. Which was what she wanted him to tell her, wasn’t it? She was afraid of him saying anything else. She was terrified at the thought that he might be relieved she knew and that he might suddenly decide that the time had come for them to end the sham that was their marriage and for him to move in with xxx A.
It isn’t a sham, she told herself fiercely. It isn’t. I love him. He loves me. We both love Jill.
Thinking of Jill brought back her conversation with Cate again. There was a part of her who felt sorry for Cate but Cate was lucky. She had a wonderful, gorgeous, sexy boyfriend who adored her and who had a brilliant job. Cate herself had a good job and plenty of money. So she wasn’t destitute and worrying about how to feed an extra mouth. Cate just couldn’t see that she was fortunate. Maybe her decision not to have the baby was one made in haste and confusion. Perhaps she’d change her mind. Even though Cate wasn’t the changing her mind sort. What would Cate do if she heard that Finn had been seen with his tongue down another woman’s throat? Nessa stared unseeingly at the TV screen while she thought about it. Cate wouldn’t sit around passively. She’d confront Finn. She’d find the truth. And if the truth was that Finn was seeing another woman, then Cate would leave him. Nessa was absolutely certain about that. She wouldn’t live a lie. It wasn’t in her nature.
But, Nessa thought, Cate was living a lie now. She hadn’t told Finn about the baby and she hadn’t told Finn that she was thinking of getting rid of it. Cate had clearly decided to keep that to herself while she worked things out in her own mind. Maybe I’m not so wrong in waiting until I know what I want to do before talking to Adam myself, thought Nessa. Perhaps it’s all to the good that I haven’t told anyone else yet. Except Bree. She was a little surprised that Bree hadn’t been in touch since she’d told her. But Bree was a practical kind of girl, uncomfortable with emotional issues.
Her suggestion of keeping Adam under surveillance had been typical of Bree’s approach to life. See a problem, work on it, fix it. Nessa wished it was that simple but she wondered whether there was merit in the idea of having someone follow Adam around for a few days. It seemed such an over-the-top thing to do and yet that way she would surely find out the truth. At least twice a week Adam “worked late.” Maybe she needed to know what “working late” actually meant. Should she get one of the detective agencies or should she ask Bree to do it? Her sister was undoubtedly right in thinking that Adam wouldn’t even notice her once she was in her biker’s gear.
Which was the more sordid? Nessa asked herself as she glanced at Adam. Having a stranger follow him or having her baby sister follow him?
She got up from the sofa. “I’m just going to give Bree a call,” she said.
Adam chuckled. “Going to give out to your youngest sister about the middle one?”
“No,” she said. “Just going to talk to her.”
“This is Bree. Sorry I can’t answer the phone. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.”
Nessa sighed in frustration. She’d almost made up her mind to ask Bree to follow Adam. She’d wanted to ask her before she could change her mind. Now she remembered that Bree was on her hot date tonight. It was, therefore, highly unlikely that she’d be answering her calls at all.
“It’s me,” she said to Bree’s message minder. “Give me a call. I’m sure it’ll be late tonight or early tomorrow before you get this. I hope you got a nice slinky dress.”
To give the skirt and top a helping hand in the seduction stakes, Bree had spent much more time than usual earlier that evening in getting ready for her date. She took care in applying her foundation cream instead of slapping it on her cheeks like she normally did. She actually used the little sponge applicator that came with her new eyeshadow rather than her finger although she wasn’t sure whether or not it made much difference. And she even used Cate’s trick of applying her lipstick, blotting it off with a tissue (toilet paper in Bree’s case, she’d used all her tissues to wipe the oil from a generator she’d been working on) and then applying it again. The end result, she admitted to herself, was definitely more glamorous than she was used to. It was shocking, really, to see how glamorous she could be when she put her mind to it.
By the time Michael finally rang the doorbell fifteen minutes late, she was as nervous as a kitten. She felt as though this was her first date with him all over again as she hurried down the stairs and just managed to avoid plunging headlong because she caught her heel on the piece of loose red carpet.
“Wow!” His eyes opened wide as she opened the heavy front door. “You look fabulous.”
“Thanks.” She grinned at him.
“No. I mean it. Really fabulous. And,” his eyes twinkled, “you do have legs after all!”
“I nearly broke one of them coming down the stairs,” she admitted ruefully. “Caught my heel and only just managed not to end up on my bum.”
Michael laughed. “Why ruin my picture of you as a dream girl?”
“Sorry.” She laughed too. “I guess I’m not used to being a dream girl.”
“You are tonight,” he said. “In fact, looking at you now I’m beginning to wonder whether or not we should bother with dinner.”
Her eyes widened.
“In that outfit you look good enough to eat,” he added. “And I’m not sure that I want to sit opposite you for a couple of hours and not do something about it.”
Yes! thought Bree in elation. I’ve cracked it! If only I’d realized before that all it takes is a skirt and a pair of legs I could’ve saved myself some anguish.
“However, I promised you dinner and Dad would have a fit if I told him that I abandoned dinner for lust.”
“Would you tell him that?” she asked, aghast.
“Nope.” Michael grinned. “But he’d find out sooner or later.”
“Then we’d better have dinner.”
“Ideally we should take your bike.” Michael glanced wistfully at it as they walked down the garden path. “I could ride it and you could sit behind me with your hair blowing out in the wind.”
“As if.” Bree snorted. “Actually what would happen is that my hair would resemble a bird’s nest by the time we’d got thirty yards down the road. It’s only in the movies that a girl’s hair flows out in a golden banner when she’s on a bike.”
“Oh, don’t disillusion me again.” Michael made a face at her as he opened the door of the Punto.
“Sorry,” she said again as she got into the car. “I guess I’m not great at illusions.”
He got in beside her and turned the key in the ignition.
“Running well.” She cocked her head and listened to the sound of the engine.
“Like a dream,” he told her. He put the car into gear and pulled away.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I spent ages thinking about this,” he told her. “We’re going to a place outside Swords.”
“Swords.” She looked at him in surprise. “That’s a bit out of the way for us, isn’t it?”
“I know it’s not somewhere that comes to mind immediately,” he said. “But friends of Dad opened a restaurant there last year and it’s supposed to be really good. He goes there a lot if he’s meeting clients from the north side of the city so what’s good enough for him is good enough for me.”
“What’s it called?” asked Bree. “Maybe Cate or Nessa have been there.”
“The Old Mill or the Old Stream or something like that.” He half-turned to her. “Something old anyway.”
She giggled then winced as he cut in front of a car at the traffic lights.
“Relax,” he said.
“Sorry.” She smiled. “I’m not a great passenger.”
None of the Driscoll girls were, she knew. They all preferred driving to being driven and none of them really believed that anyone was a better driver than they were. Except their fat
her, Louis. Bree’s earliest memory was of being brought to a motor show where Louis had driven an articulated truck around an obstacle course. It had been a competition and Louis was the only person driving the course who hadn’t touched any of the obstacles. He’d won the event because he hadn’t had any penalties even though he’d been a couple of seconds slower than one of the other drivers.
“No point getting there if you’ve written off the truck in the meantime,” he’d told Miriam and the girls after he’d accepted the gaudy trophy. She couldn’t have been more than three or four at the time, recalled Bree, but she’d remembered his words. She’d kept the trophy too. Louis had given it to her when she passed her driving test.
Once they got out of the city and onto the motorway, she relaxed a little. Michael drove more smoothly and she hit play on the CD deck. She was surprised to find that it was traditional Spanish music.
“I’m picking up the girls from the airport tomorrow,” explained Michael. “They’re back to school and college soon. I thought I’d play the CD so that they didn’t feel too traumatized at being back in Ireland.” He laughed. “I know they’d prefer Top of the Pops stuff—it’s just a silly thing really.”
“I think it’s nice.” Bree smiled at him. “But they shouldn’t be too traumatized this year. Not with the weather being so good, despite yesterday’s blip.”
“I know,” said Michael. “It’s been a glorious summer, hasn’t it?”
“Fabulous,” said Bree. “I’m hoping that it stays nice for a little longer. I have to take a week off before the end of October.”
“You should have taken it off while the going was good,” said Michael.
“I know.” Bree made a face. “But we were so busy and,” she shrugged, “I like working when we’re busy.”
“That’s terrible.” Michael sounded amused. “I thought our generation was supposed to work to live not live to work.”
“I don’t live to work,” said Bree. “I just love doing what I do.”
“Didn’t you ever want to do anything else? Arsehole!!” he bellowed suddenly at the Ford that moved into the lane in front of them without indicating.
Bree shuddered.
“Honestly,” said Michael. “Some people haven’t a clue.”
“It was a dodgy maneuver,” agreed Bree. “And, no, I always wanted to do what I do.”
“That must be nice,” Michael said. “I’ve never been sure, to tell you the truth. Part of me thought that I should go into law, like Dad. But it’s so much effort!”
“The rewards are good.”
“After time,” said Michael.
“So why did you choose sales and marketing?” asked Bree. “It’s what my sister, Cate, does too.”
“I’m good at putting plans together,” Michael said. “I can come up with campaigns. But somehow I don’t think it’s half as much fun as being a mechanic.”
“Like lots of men you have an idealized notion of how much fun it is to be up to your armpits in oil,” Bree told him, her voice full of laughter.
“Depends on the oil,” said Michael suggestively.
She giggled then lapsed into silence.
They arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes later. Michael made the wheels of the Punto spin on the gravel parking area and Bree made a face at him. She got out of the car and rubbed her arms.
“Cold?” he asked.
She shook her head. The evening air was warm but she was unused to wearing strappy tops that plunged at the neckline and showed rather a lot of her creamy skin.
“Come on then.” Michael slipped his arm around her shoulders and led her into the restaurant.
Bree had expected it to be an old building but, despite the weathered granite stonework, she discovered that it was new. It was built to catch the evening sun and had huge windows along the southwest side which gave a view over pretty gardens. Inside, the tables were of opaque glass and set with modern cutlery. One of the proprietors, a petite woman with ash-blond hair and bright blue eyes beamed at Michael.
“I haven’t seen you in ages,” she said when she’d pecked him on the cheek. “Your dad said you’d grown but he didn’t say that you’d grown so much!”
“Give me a break, Carolyn,” he said. “I’m with my girlfriend. The last thing she wants to hear are stories about me as a kid.”
Bree was pleased that he’d referred to her as his girlfriend. It was, she thought, a major step up from being someone’s best friend.
“I’d very much like to hear stories of him as a kid,” she told Carolyn. “Maybe you’ll tell me some after we’ve had dinner.”
“Do that and I won’t pay the bill,” he threatened.
Carolyn laughed and led them to a secluded corner table. “I thought about giving you your dad’s favorite table,” she said. “And then I realized that wouldn’t be a very diplomatic thing to do. You’re a grown man in your own right now, even though it’s hard for me to believe it.”
“Thanks, Carolyn,” he said.
“I’ll get you some menus.”
Bree settled in the seat and shielded her eyes from the flaming light of the setting sun. “It’s lovely,” she said.
“I haven’t been here before,” Michael admitted. “And when I saw Carolyn I wondered if it was really a good idea. Because she could tell stories of me when I was a baby—suddenly I felt as though I was about ten again.”
“She’s an old family friend I gather.”
Michael nodded. “My mother shared a flat with her when she came to Ireland first,” he said. “Not far from where you’re living actually. She used to say that it was very convenient for Leeson Street and the nightlife.”
“It’s hard to imagine your parents having a life before you existed yourself,” said Bree. “I can’t for one minute picture my mother in a nightclub.”
“I know,” said Michael. “I find it hard to visualize it myself. But apparently herself and Carolyn were regular fixtures in places like Susey Street and Buck Whaley’s and Anabel’s back in the seventies and eighties.”
“Do all of those places still exist?” asked Bree. “Anabel’s does—or at least I think it does. I’ve been there myself. It’s rather creepy to think that I’ve propped up the same bar that your mother might have done.”
“I’ve propped up that bar too,” said Michael. “And I’ve never thought of it before.” He unfolded his napkin and draped it across his lap.
Shit, thought Bree, I might have upset him. I know he was pretty relaxed about his mother the first time he told me but that doesn’t mean I can barge in and be tactless. But then I’ve never been great on tact, I just wade in without thinking a lot of the time.
“So where are your favorite haunts?” He looked up at her again and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“I like being around Camden Street and George’s Street,” she told him. “I love the juice bars and the alcohol bars and the Oriental shops.”
He nodded. “I can see that you would.”
“I’m not really a clubbing kind of person though I do go to them.”
“Depends on the club,” Michael agreed.
“And they only stay hot for a while before somewhere else takes over.”
“What else do you like?” he asked. “We haven’t really had this conversation before, have we?”
Carolyn arrived with the menus and two glasses of champagne. “On the house,” she told Michael. “A mini celebration of your twenty-first birthday even though it’s a bit late. Did you have a party?”
“You wouldn’t have enjoyed it,” he told her. “It was mainly blokes getting sick.”
“Oh, Michael!” Both Carolyn and Bree exclaimed in horror together.
“Even Dad was sick at my twenty-first,” he said.
He clinked glasses with Bree and they studied the menu together.
“The reality is that I haven’t a clue what half of these things are.” Michael scratched his chin. “I’ve always wondered about polenta.”
“I’m a burger and chips girl myself,” said Bree. “Don’t expect me to know much. But I do like the sound of the paella.”
He grinned. “You don’t have to go down the Spanish route to please me.”
“Nothing to do with you,” she said. “I lived in Spain for a few months.”
“Really?” He looked at her in surprise.
“Yes,” she told him. “Villajoyosa.”
“I know it,” he told her. “Mum was from Valencia. Farther up the coast of course. I’ve never actually been to Villajoyosa but I know where it is.”
“I worked in a garage there,” said Bree. “I didn’t pick it because of its natural beauty or anything—I was staying in Benidorm and I heard about a job.”
“Why did you leave?”
Bree had no intention of telling him about Enrique and his gallery of girlfriends.
“Time to move on,” she said. “I went to France after that.”
“You like traveling?”
She nodded.
“Will you head off again?”
“Possibly.” She smiled. “Unless something makes me stay.”
“I was thinking of the States myself,” said Michael. “A year or two on the West Coast might be fun.”
With or without her, she wondered. Would she go if he asked?
“What would your father say?” she asked.
“He doesn’t mind,” said Michael. “Once I’m earning a living he’s OK with whatever I do.”
“And your sisters?” asked Bree. “What about them?”
“They’re both girlie girls,” said Michael dismissively. “I love them to bits, of course, but they’re homebirds at heart. I can’t see either of them working abroad.”
“Not even in Spain?”
“Not even,” said Michael. “Besides, Marta worries too much about Dad to leave him on his own for too long.”
Carolyn arrived to take their order just then but they resumed the conversation when she left.
“What does she worry about?” asked Bree.
He's Got to Go Page 20
