He's Got to Go

by Sheila O'Flanagan

  “That he doesn’t have anyone,” replied Michael.

  “But you said that your other sister was only fourteen,” Bree pointed out. “She’s hardly likely to be leaving home very soon.”

  “That he doesn’t have anyone his age,” explained Michael. “Marta believes that no man can function without a woman to help him.”

  Bree laughed. “She might be right.”

  “But I also think that she’d freak out if Dad brought a woman home,” Michael said.

  “Encroaching on her territory?”

  He nodded. “About a year ago Dad was seeing someone. Nice lady, same age as him. Divorced. No kids, so you’d think that’d be a bonus as far as Marta and Manuela were concerned. But he brought her home and Marta didn’t like her. So that was that.”

  “Poor woman,” said Bree.

  Michael shrugged. “That’s the way Marta is. Unfortunately, Mannie is just the same.”

  “Gosh,” said Bree. “Do they vet your girlfriends as well?”

  He grinned. “Nope. I don’t normally have girlfriends for long enough.”

  “What’s your best run?” asked Bree.

  “Best, worst—depends on your point of view,” said Michael. “But the longest I’ve gone out with a girl is three months and the shortest—well, I’d better not say. You’d consider me to be cold and unfeeling.”

  Bree laughed. “The longest I’ve gone out with someone is about the same. And the shortest is two minutes.”

  “Two whole minutes?”

  “We made a date. I met him in the pub. He was wearing some godawful aftershave which even drowned out the smell of beer and smoke. I said I was going to the loo and I left.”

  “You callous bitch.” But Michael’s eyes held admiration.

  “Actually, I felt awful about it. But I made the right decision.”

  “I’d better not let you out of my sight,” said Michael.

  “I don’t want to be out of your sight,” she told him.

  The meal was wonderful. They shared mixed salads with peppers, followed by paella and then apricot cheesecake. After that they relaxed in an anteroom off the main dining area where they had coffee.

  Bree couldn’t remember having a better meal. Or a more sophisticated one. The service had been attentive but unobtrusive, glasses were refilled and empty plates were whisked away before they even noticed.

  “I had such a good time,” said Bree when she’d drained her cup. “I could just curl up in a ball and sleep.”

  “That wasn’t what I had in mind,” Michael told her.

  “I guess not.” She grinned. “But I can’t help it. I’m not used to being looked after so well.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  “I did,” she told him. “Truly.”

  “I suppose we’d better get back.” He glanced at his watch.

  “I suppose so.”

  “Come on then.” He got up from the comfortable armchair and held out his hand.

  She took it, enjoying the firmness of his grasp and warmth of his touch. They said goodbye to Carolyn and to her husband, Ken, the chef. Then Michael led Bree outside.

  She shivered in the cooler night air and wished once again that she’d brought something to throw over her shoulders. Although this time for warmth rather than decency.

  “Hop in,” said Michael. “It’s not really cold. You’ll warm up in the car.”

  “Thanks.”

  She yawned and closed her eyes. Maybe he’d divert to the beach on the way home, she thought. He could turn off at the roundabout to Malahide and drive along the estuary where they could…She grimaced. Thinking of Malahide had reminded her of Nessa and Adam and the fact that she hadn’t talked to her sister today though she’d meant to phone. Nessa might think that she was being terribly unconcerned and unsympathetic. She’d give her a call tomorrow. And reiterate her offer to follow Adam if that was what Nessa wanted. Bree was perfectly prepared to believe that this girl, Portia, had got the wrong end of the stick completely, unlikely as it seemed, but she also knew that Nessa would never be happy until she found out the truth. It must be horrible, she thought, to have doubts about the person you loved. To feel that you couldn’t trust them anymore. To believe that everything on which you based your life was a sham.

  Poor Nessa. Bree hoped that there was a reasonable explanation, that Adam hadn’t—wasn’t—cheating on her. If he was…she gritted her teeth. If he was, she hoped that Nessa would throw the fucker out and go after him for all she could get. She was surprised at the intensity of her feelings, at how angry she felt on her sister’s behalf. She felt the car accelerate and opened her eyes. They were approaching one of the series of roundabouts that bypassed the town of Swords. Traffic was light and Michael had swung out to overtake the car in front.

  “Be careful!” Her voice was tense as he closed up on the other car.

  “It’s fine,” he told her, pressing firmly on the accelerator. “Don’t worry.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “As I said, I’m not a good passenger.”

  “I know you told my dad I was a terrible driver but I’m not really.”

  “It’s me,” said Bree. “I’m afraid I always think I can do better than whoever is actually driving.”

  “You’re in safe hands, I promise you.”

  She sat back again as he negotiated the roundabout and continued toward the city. She would have to get rid of her attitude toward other drivers. Particularly men. No boyfriend would take too kindly to being lectured about their ability behind the wheel and Michael was her boyfriend. They’d had a real boyfriend and girlfriend night tonight and she didn’t want to ruin it by lecturing him. Besides, he wasn’t really a bad driver. He just didn’t live up to her exacting standards behind the wheel.

  She made herself relax as he turned onto the motorway. Tonight had been great, she thought. And she was glad that she’d bothered to iron her freshly laundered cotton sheets and put them on the bed earlier because she was certain that tonight would be the night when they’d sleep together. It was ages since she’d been to bed with anyone. She was looking forward to feeling Michael’s hands on her body, his lips on hers, whispering words of love to her. Or words of lust. She didn’t really mind which. Actually, she told herself, she did mind. She wanted them to be words of love. Michael Morrissey was one of the nicest men she’d ever met.

  She inhaled sharply as he overtook an articulated truck. She bit back a comment that he’d come up too close behind it and moved out too sharply because she didn’t want to annoy him. Or distract him. But she couldn’t help looking in her passenger wing mirror and seeing that there was another car coming up fast behind them. Michael noticed it too. He swung toward the inside lane again and Bree had to stop herself from crying out because he’d oversteered and wasn’t correcting fast enough.

  She couldn’t believe that he wasn’t correcting fast enough. The car was skidding toward the bank of small trees and shrubs that bordered the motorway and she didn’t quite know how Michael was going to get them out of it. She saw the truck pass them by and the red brake lights of other cars in front of them. She couldn’t see anyone behind them. She wondered, as the car continued in its skid, how on earth she had the time to notice all of these things.

  “Fuck.”

  She didn’t know whether she’d said it or Michael had. But she did know that they were going to crash into the bank and that nothing he could do would stop it. She knew that pressing her own feet to the floor of the car, which she couldn’t help herself doing, wasn’t going to achieve anything but she pressed harder all the same.

  She was still pressing when they hit the first shrub. She wondered then how it was that she had the time to see the driver’s airbag deploy and even to see the windscreen shatter but she knew that she saw these things happen. Then she felt the pull of her own seat belt holding her in place while her head jerked forward and the car came to a halt.

  18

  Moon/Uranus aspects
/>   Tension and emotional strains,

  changing moods, an overpowering will.

  Nessa went to bed early but she hadn’t yet fallen asleep by the time Adam joined her. He slid under the covers and automatically put his arm around her.

  “Cate’s pregnant,” she said abruptly.

  “What?” Adam had been about to make love to Nessa but, at her words, he propped his head on his hand and looked at her.

  “She’s pregnant,” said Nessa. “That’s what she wanted to tell me.”

  “Oh, Ness.” He pulled her closer to him. “I’m so sorry it’s her and not you.”

  She felt the tears sting her eyes. “She doesn’t want the baby.”

  “Doesn’t really fit in with her lifestyle, does it?” asked Adam.

  “That’s what she said.”

  “She isn’t very maternal.”

  “She’s a stupid cow,” said Nessa.

  Adam cupped her breast in his hand. “Forget about her,” he told Nessa. “Don’t think about her. Think about us.” He leaned over her and kissed her.

  She was totally unable to push him away even though his telling her to think of them was making her think of his xxx A woman instead. She rolled onto her back and he entered her quickly. She was disgusted with herself for letting him make love to her when she didn’t feel like it and annoyed with herself for not telling him that she wasn’t in the mood. She’d never told him that she wasn’t in the mood, even on the days when that was true. She wasn’t in the mood as often as he was but she liked the intimacy of it and the knowledge that, after ten years together, he still wanted her. So she said nothing.

  I need to do something, she told herself as she lay in the darkness afterward. I need to take some kind of positive action. Tomorrow. I’ll get to grips with everything tomorrow. I’ll phone Bree and get her to play detective, no matter how silly that seems, and I’ll find out for once and for all whether or not he’s being unfaithful. And if he is I’ll…I’ll…she still didn’t know what she was going to do if Bree reported back that xxx A was a real woman and that Adam spent his free time sticking his tongue down her throat.

  She knew that she was dreaming when she could see Adam’s tongue, huge and pink and glistening, as an entity in its own right. And then she woke up.

  Bree wasn’t sure whether she was unconscious or just dead. She could hear sounds, of people talking, of ambulance sirens, of a busy hospital. And sometimes it seemed to her that she could see things too. A man in a fluorescent yellow jacket. A man in a fluorescent orange jacket. A nurse in a blue tunic.

  She wanted to talk to them, to tell them that she was OK. But she couldn’t speak and she wasn’t sure that she could move either. Once or twice it seemed to her that she was standing beside a bed looking at herself. That was when she thought she might be dead. She’d read lots of news stories in the past about people who’d been pronounced dead floating out of their bodies and watching while a team of doctors and nurses tried to resuscitate them. Only nobody was trying to resuscitate her. They were speeding in and out of the cubicle from time to time, glancing at her and then leaving again.

  So, she wondered, am I dead and do they think it’s not worth the effort of trying to bring me back? And, if I’m not dead, do they know that? Do they think I’m dead and will they suddenly put me in one of those black sacks that you see on TV and will I be carted down to a mortuary while I’m still alive? She felt herself panic at the thought. She could imagine Nessa and Cate standing by the grave-side watching them lower her into the ground while she was still alive but just not able to speak.

  The panic grew inside her. She knew that she had to struggle to let them know that she was all right. She tried to sit up but she couldn’t and terror suddenly made her find her voice.

  “Help!”

  When she spoke she realized that she’d opened her eyes. She blinked a couple of times to focus on the person standing beside her bed who was a tall and beefy doctor. He was, thought Bree, rather attractive. Which made her think that she was dead all over again.

  “Hello,” he said. “You’ve woken up.”

  “I was asleep?”

  “Well, unconscious,” he told her cheerfully. “But we knew that you were coming out of it.”

  “Am I alive?” she asked.

  He laughed. “Of course you are.”

  A tear trickled down the side of her face. She was embarrassed at crying when she should be so glad that she was alive.

  “You’ve had a shock, naturally,” said the doctor.

  And then she remembered why she was here in the first place.

  “Michael!” she gasped. “Is Michael OK?”

  The doctor scratched the side of his face and looked at her thoughtfully.

  “Oh, God!” She struggled to sit up but every muscle in her body protested.

  “Take it easy,” said the doctor. “Michael will be OK, I promise you. He’s just a bit more beaten up than you.”

  This time the tears cascaded down Bree’s face. “I should have driven. He’s not as good a driver as me.”

  “Don’t talk about it,” said the doctor. “You’ll have to give a statement to the police later.”

  “The police?” Bree looked aghast.

  “It was a car crash and they were at the scene,” said the doctor. “They’ll be here shortly to interview you.”

  “I don’t know what I can tell them,” said Bree. “Right now I remember things but all mixed up.”

  “Don’t worry about it yet,” said the doctor. “Let me check you out now that you’re awake.”

  “Tell me about Michael,” said Bree.

  “Let me tell you about yourself first.” The doctor took an opthalmiscope from his coat pocket and looked into her eyes. “You’re basically fine,” he told her. “Bruised, of course. You probably have a headache and you’ve got a few minor abrasions, including a cut over your eye that we’ve put a couple of paper stitches in. It shouldn’t leave much of a scar. You were pretty lucky. The worst injury from your point of view is that you’ve torn ligaments in your foot.”

  “How did I do that?”

  “Sympathetic braking.” The doctor grinned at her. “You were clearly pressing on a nonexistent brake pedal.”

  “Yes.” Bree nodded. “I remember.”

  “We’re going to X-ray your foot. Both your feet, actually,” he said. “Just in case there’s anything broken but I don’t think so. Walking will be a bit difficult for a couple of days but you’ll be good as new eventually.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled wryly. “And what about Michael?”

  “He’ll be OK too,” said the doctor. “But his recovery will take longer. He’s broken one or two things. His right leg and his right arm.”

  Bree shuddered and grasped at the thin blanket that covered her.

  “And a couple of ribs,” continued the doctor. “His face was more cut up too and his bruising is more severe. He also lost quite a bit of blood.”

  “Have you told anyone?” she asked.

  “We haven’t make any phone calls yet,” he replied. “If you want, you can do that now. We’ll be keeping you in overnight for a bit of observation. Your boyfriend will be here for at least a week.”

  She started to cry again. She wished she could stop crying because it was bad enough to be here as an accident victim with this doctor being terribly sympathetic while clearly thinking that she was a stupid fool girl who’d been in a car that was driven too fast by a stupid fool bloke and that they were both lucky to be alive.

  “My mobile is in my bag.” She looked suddenly forlorn. “If my bag survived.”

  He handed it to her. She realized that her hands were shaking.

  “I’m going to get a nurse to bring you a cup of tea,” said the doctor. “You’ll feel better after a cup of tea.”

  “Thanks.” She sniffed. “I’m sorry. I keep crying and I don’t mean to. You’ve been great.”

  He smiled at her. “I understand. You can’t he
lp crying, it’s part of the shock. You’ll be OK, I promise.”

  She managed to control the trembling enough to see that she’d missed a call on her mobile. She didn’t care who it was from. She punched in the speed dial for Nessa and waited for her to answer.

  It was the ringing of the phone that had woken her. Nessa listened to Bree’s trembling voice, then shot out of bed and scrambled into her clothes.

  “Whass’matter?” Adam opened his eyes and looked sleepily at her. “Whass’rong?”

  “It’s Bree,” said Nessa. “She’s been in an accident.”

  “What?” Adam focused on her. “What kind of accident?”

  “Car crash,” said Nessa succinctly.

  “My God,” said Adam. “Is she hurt?”

  “Clearly,” snapped Nessa. “She’s in hospital.”

  “Do you want me to go instead of you?” Adam sat up.

  Nessa shook her head. “I have to go,” she told him. “She says she’s OK but she sounded awful. I have to see her.”

  Adam knew that he wouldn’t be able to change Nessa’s mind. “Be careful yourself,” he warned her. “Don’t drive too fast. Don’t take risks. You’re upset.”

  “I know.” She smiled shakily at him. “But it’s me that has to go, Adam. You know that.”

  “Yes.” He got out of bed and put his arm around her. “Let me make you some tea first.”

  Nessa felt terrible that, while Bree was injured in hospital, the emotion that surged through her now was that Adam really did love her. He’d made love to her earlier and now he was concerned about her and was going to make her tea before she left the house. So he couldn’t be having an affair, could he? Men who were having affairs might still make love to their wives but they didn’t care about them in the way that Adam cared about her.

  When she finally finished dressing and got downstairs, he handed her a mug of tea.

  “She’ll still be there in the hospital,” said Adam. “She won’t have gone anywhere. So five minutes for you to get yourself together won’t make any difference.”

  “I feel so responsible,” Nessa cried. “She’s my sister and Mum is in Galway and I’m in charge of her and she’s had an accident!”