He Loves Me Not...He Loves Me
Page 33
‘Never mind the old girl,’ he’d said once Susan was well out of earshot, ‘she’ll come round. Just wait till the Tribunal gets going and she’s plastered all over the papers going in and out of Dublin Castle in a different outfit each day: she’ll be a pussycat.’
In fact, as the taxi arrived to take the bride and groom to the airport it would have been hard to say which of them was the most relieved to be getting away. ‘And that was a mild display by the Davenport family standards,’ Portia said, snuggling into his arms in the back of the car. ‘I hope you realize what you’ve just married into.’
Andrew laughed and held her close. ‘I told you, the worse the wedding, the better the marriage. And by the way, darling, the first thing we’re doing when we come back is getting the roof repaired. Your mother and Daisy I can live with, the two dozen cats I can live with, but the indoor waterfall has to go.’
For the first time in as long as she could remember, Lucasta sat in the kitchen, completely and utterly alone. It was a few weeks after Portia and Andrew’s wedding and they were still on their extended honeymoon. Daisy had gone out for the night with Steve; the pair of them were virtually inseparable these days. The film had officially wrapped and the crew had departed almost as suddenly as they’d arrived. It was like the circus leaving town, she thought dismally, the way all their trucks and vans just rolled down the driveway and were gone. The crew had been perfectly polite to her, of course, thanking her for her hospitality and kindness towards them. Ella Hepburn had graciously invited her over to the film’s premiere in LA and Montana had generously offered to pay for her flight. Jimmy D. had even given her a parting gift of an engraved solid silver flea collar for Gnasher and had promised to come back and visit as soon as he’d finished editing the film. But after all the buzz and excitement of the past few months, the sense of anticlimax was awful.
‘Well, Gnasher, they’ve all buggered off,’ she said dismally. ‘It’s just you and me now, darling.’ She switched on the tiny, flickering TV and was just in time to catch the tail end of a nightly entertainment show. They were covering a glamorous film premiere in Hollywood and there, swanning down the red carpet, was Montana Jones. She was wearing Versace and looked stunning, but that wasn’t what made Lucasta squint at the TV in disbelief. Standing beside her, wearing a dress suit and looking like he did this every night of the week, was Paddy. The press had gone into overdrive, shouting, ‘Over here, Montana!’ and, ‘Is it true your latest boyfriend is Irish? And that you met while filming over there?’ A battery of flashes went off as Montana and Paddy approached them, with Montana gamely twirling around to show off the dress.
‘Eh, lads? Excuse me, lads?’ Paddy could clearly be heard saying in the background. ‘I don’t suppose any of youse got the score of the match, did yis? It’s just that Arsenal were playing Sunderland last night and I just thought—’
Suddenly and without warning, the front doorbell blared out, echoing all the way down to the kitchen, making Gnasher jump out of Lucasta’s lap in fright.
‘Who the fuck could that be?’ she said, stubbing out her cigarette and going upstairs. It was late, well after eleven at night, and the Hall was in pitch darkness.
‘Who is it?’ she called out nervously. ‘I’m armed, you know,’ she added, pulling an umbrella from the bottom of the coat stand by the door. ‘And I have a guard cat!’
‘Ah, would ya ever open the door, I’m freezing,’ came an all-too-familiar voice from outside. Eventually, after struggling with all the locks and bolts, Lucasta finally got the door opened.
‘So,’ she said, seeing who it was, ‘you’ve come back to me then.’
‘Thought ya could use a bit of company.’
Tears began to well up in Lucasta’s eyes. ‘Are you back to stay?’
‘Depends. Would ya have me back?’
‘Oh Mrs Flanagan, of course I would,’ said Lucasta, throwing her arms around her. ‘I’ve missed you so much, although you’re still a saggy old cow.’
‘I missed you too,’ replied Mrs Flanagan, hugging her back, ‘although yer’re still a mad aul’ bitch.’
Lucasta picked up her suitcase and linked her arm, steering her inside the Hall and back downstairs to the kitchen.
‘Do you know, Mrs Flanagan,’ she said theatrically, milking the moment for all it was worth, ‘I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’
Mrs Flanagan smiled at her, shaking loose from her grip. ‘Ah, would ya ever feck off and pour us a gin.’
THE END
About the Author
Claudia Carroll was born in Dublin, where she still lives. She has worked extensively as an actress on the Irish stage, but is probably best known for her role as TV’s nasty Nicola Prendergast in the long-running Irish soap opera Fair City, a character she describes as ‘the horrible old cow everyone loves to hate.’ She is now a full-time writer.
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HE LOVES ME NOT . . . HE LOVES ME
A BANTAM BOOK: 9780553816648
Version 1.0 Epub ISBN: 9781409084549
Originally published in Great Britain by Bantam Press, a division of Transworld Publishers
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