What Happened That Night: The page-turning holiday read by the No. 1 bestselling author

by O'Flanagan, Sheila

  ‘Ah well, we all know you’re stringing along a dozen at the same time,’ said Shirley.

  ‘Excuse me!’ Crona made a face. ‘I have a number of friends who happen to be men. That doesn’t make me some kind of siren, you know.’

  Fidelma laughed. ‘Siren. What a word.’

  ‘He was really pissed off at me,’ said Lola. ‘I was a bit scared of him, to be honest.’

  ‘You should’ve said yes,’ Fidelma said. ‘Then you could’ve broken it off later and maybe kept the ring.’

  ‘I never thought of that,’ said Shirley. ‘You missed a trick there, Lo-Lo.’

  ‘It was a gorgeous ring.’ Lola held her hands out in front of her and looked at her naked fingers. ‘I don’t know if I’ll ever own one as beautiful. Or as expensive.’

  ‘Of course you will,’ said Shirley. ‘Don’t you keep saying that you want to buy your own jewellery when you’re successful?’

  ‘I probably have as much chance of being successful as I have of getting engaged again.’

  ‘You’re not regretting saying no, are you?’ asked Crona.

  Lola shook her head as she pushed her glass at her and signalled her to refill it. ‘It was the right thing. But . . .’

  ‘You’ll be grand,’ said Fidelma. ‘You’ll find someone else when you’re ready and you’ll want to say yes.’

  ‘All the same,’ muttered Shirley later, when Lola had shuffled off to bed, ‘she’ll have her work cut out finding a better man than Philip Warren. If you ask me, she’s going to regret this decision one day.’

  Philip Warren had put the jewellery in the safe, hardly noticing what he was doing because he was shaking with anger and humiliation. He couldn’t believe Lola Fitzpatrick had turned him down. Didn’t she realise how lucky she was that he’d asked her to marry him in the first place? Didn’t she understand what it meant? He was a Warren. She was nobody. He’d brought her into his world and she should have been grateful instead of bleating that she wasn’t ready. His mother had been right about her after all, he muttered to himself as he set the alarm and then locked the door. She wasn’t worthy of him. He’d misjudged her completely.

  He went into the Duke pub and ordered himself a pint of lager. The jovial atmosphere soothed him a little. Then he remembered the dinner reservations he’d made at the upmarket Dobbins restaurant. He’d told them to have a bottle of champagne on ice. He’d bet any money she’d never had one bottle of champagne in her life before, let alone two. He ordered another pint, and when he’d finished it, he went outside and phoned the restaurant from the public phone box to cancel the reservation. Then he returned to the pub and had another drink. Three was enough, he decided as he downed it in a couple of long gulps. People were beginning to get edgy about driving after having alcohol. Which he agreed was understandable in some cases, but not his own, because he was a good driver and he was able to hold his drink too.

  He retrieved his father’s Volkswagen from the car park and headed back to Rathgar. He drove cautiously, both because of the beer and because his father treated his car the same way as he treated everything – with care and consideration – and expected his son to do the same. He put Lola and her treachery to the back of his mind, although it nagged at him constantly. As did the fact that he’d remembered he hadn’t put the jewellery in the correct boxes before he’d placed them in the safe. He’d been so angry, he’d just shoved it all in together. He’d have to get in early in the morning and make sure he was the one to take them out and put them in the display cases. He couldn’t leave it to Lorraine to sort out. It was fortunate that his father had stayed in Basle for an additional meeting with one of their suppliers. Richard wouldn’t have accepted being upset as an excuse for not treating the jewellery properly.

  Philip was mulling over his father’s possible reaction to his actions when the woman stepped out in front of him. He felt a surge of adrenaline take over as he caught sight of her, and heard her startled cry. He stamped on the brakes and hauled at the steering wheel. He’d never had an accident in his life. But because of Lola Fitzpatrick, he was going to have one now.

  Afterwards, he congratulated himself for missing both the woman who’d stepped onto the road in front of him and the nearby lamp post. What he didn’t avoid was the low wall around the grass verge. The car went straight into it with surprising force. Philip, who’d never even scratched the car before, felt his rage with Lola intensify as the engine cut out. It took him a minute or two to regain his equilibrium, but when he eventually gathered his wits enough to open the door, he realised he couldn’t put any weight on his right foot.

  He stood on one leg, holding the door for support, as he surveyed the damage. The front of the car was now wedged over the wall and the front fender was crumpled. Meanwhile, the woman who’d caused it all was nowhere to be seen. Philip flexed his foot and a stab of pain juddered through him. Two small boys who’d been playing football on the street had come over to look.

  ‘You’ve wrecked the wall, mister,’ said one.

  ‘And your car,’ added the other.

  ‘Thanks for that information, lads.’ Philip scowled at them.

  ‘My dad’s a panel beater,’ added the first helpfully. ‘He could fix that for you.’

  ‘If I need him, I’ll ask,’ said Philip.

  He locked the car door and hobbled painfully to his parents’ house, where Adele could see from his face that something had happened. When he told her, she immediately called Dick Roche, a nearby garage owner, who promised to tow the car away immediately.

  ‘Nobody was hurt except you, of course, but the wall is damaged and someone might report it,’ she told Philip, who was sitting at the kitchen table, his foot propped up on a chair and covered by a bag of Bird’s Eye peas that Adele had taken from the freezer. ‘We don’t want questions asked. I can smell alcohol on your breath.’

  ‘I was under the limit,’ he said. ‘If that old fruitcake hadn’t tried to cross the road without looking, everything would’ve been fine. As it is, it’s only because of my quick reactions that she wasn’t flattened.’

  ‘I appreciate that,’ said Adele. ‘Nevertheless, we don’t want a brush with the law, regardless of the rights of the situation.’ She looked at him quizzically. ‘Why were you here anyway? I thought you were going out with Lola tonight.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I didn’t bother,’ said Philip.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘What d’you mean, why not? I didn’t go out with her, that’s all.’

  ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘You’d be delighted, wouldn’t you?’ asked Philip.

  ‘Not for you, I wouldn’t,’ replied Adele.

  ‘Well, delight away,’ he said. ‘Because we’ve split up.’

  For a moment Adele’s eyes gleamed, then she arranged her face into an expression of sympathy.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I know you liked her. What happened?’

  ‘If you must know, I asked her to marry me,’ said Philip. ‘She said no.’

  ‘What?’ Adele was stunned. She hadn’t known that Philip intended to propose to Lola. She’d have tried to talk him out of it if she had. On the other hand, the fact that the farmer’s daughter had turned him down was cheering. Except that the ungrateful wretch had no right to reject him. She’d never get as good an offer again.

  ‘She said she wasn’t ready,’ said Philip.

  ‘The cheek of her. But you’re young and she’s immature.’

  ‘Great. Thanks. The one time in your life you’re on her side.’

  ‘I’m not on anyone’s side,’ said Adele. ‘I want you to be happy, that’s all.’

  ‘Marrying Lola would’ve made me happy,’ said Philip.

  ‘We’d better get that looked at.’ Adele ignored his comment as she removed the frozen peas and looked critically at his foot, which was now swollen. ‘You might have broken a bone.’

  ‘It’s ironic, isn’t it,’ said Philip. ‘Most men get their hearts
broken. I get a broken foot.’

  ‘Let’s go and get it checked out,’ said Adele. ‘It’s probably just a sprain. So it’s not that bad really.’

  Nevertheless, thought Philip, as his mother went to the phone, he didn’t know which part of him hurt most. His foot or his feelings.

  Chapter 6

  Kyanite: a blue or green layered crystal with a pearly sheen

  Lola’s hangover was the worst she’d ever had, and she spent the following morning alternating between throwing up and lying on her bed with a damp flannel across her forehead. Her flatmates went out – ‘to let you suffer in peace’, as Shirley put it – but when they returned that afternoon, she was still feeling wretched and confessed that she’d been sick on the hour every hour despite not having anything left to bring up.

  Crona, a nurse, made her drink some flat 7 Up, which she said would help, but Lola barely allowed a sip to pass her lips before handing the glass back.

  ‘Ah, don’t worry, you’ll be better before you’re twice married,’ Shirley told her later as she sat in the darkened bedroom.

  ‘Though I’ve passed up the first opportunity I got.’ Lola’s voice was weak but held a hint of humour. ‘So that might be a good deal further in the future than we think.’

  Shirley was glad that her friend was able to make a joke, even if it was feeble. She was horrified at how pale and sick Lola was looking, and would have suggested she had food poisoning except for the fact that they’d all eaten much the same thing the previous night. She was about to reply but she saw that Lola had closed her eyes again, and decided it would be better to let her sleep. After all, thought Shirley as she tiptoed out of the room, it wasn’t every day you turned down the most eligible man in the country. It was hardly surprising she was feeling miserable. But hopefully she’d be right as rain tomorrow. Lola normally had the constitution of an ox. She hadn’t been sick after eating a plateful of snails at the Warren home, something that Shirley was pretty certain would have made her puke on the spot. She decided that her flatmate’s illness now was as much emotional as physical.

  And after making that judgement, she told Crona and Fidelma that turning down marriage proposals was clearly a bad idea, and that if anyone ever asked her, she’d say yes straight away in order to avoid ending up in the same state as their friend.

  An X-ray at the nearest emergency clinic had shown that Philip had cracked a bone, and as a result he’d been given a surgical boot to wear. That meant he hadn’t been able to go into the shop to sort out the jewellery he’d shoved higgledy-piggledy into the safe the previous evening.

  It was Lorraine who opened up, and it was Lorraine who called the house in some concern when she saw the state of the safe.

  ‘It’s my fault,’ Philip told her. ‘I left in a hurry last night. I’m very sorry.’

  ‘I was worried there’d been some kind of botched burglary attempt,’ confessed Lorraine. ‘Though I couldn’t understand why the thieves would leave things jumbled up in the safe.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ repeated Philip. ‘And I’m also sorry you’ll be short handed today. Hopefully I’ll be in on Monday. And my father will be back then too.’

  ‘Oh, it’s OK,’ said Lorraine. ‘I’ll manage.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Philip. ‘Call if you’ve any problems.’

  He replaced the receiver and returned to the conservatory, where he’d been reading the Irish Times , his leg propped on a footstool.

  Adele had fussed over him since the night before in a way that reminded him of when he was a small boy. Philip wasn’t sure if her sudden rush of affection was due to her happiness at Lola’s refusal to marry him, or her sympathy over his injured foot. But there was no doubt that she was in a better mood than he’d seen her in for quite a long time. From his vantage point in the sun he could hear her humming under her breath as she made him another cup of tea.

  ‘You shouldn’t be walking around,’ she told him when she brought it in to him. ‘I’ll answer the phone if it rings.’ She sat down opposite him. ‘How are you feeling now?’

  ‘I’ve taken the painkillers,’ he said. ‘But it still throbs.’

  ‘I meant after the . . . situation with Lola.’

  ‘There wasn’t a situation,’ said Philip. ‘It’s over. End of story.’

  ‘Good.’ Adele smiled. ‘It’s bad to mope.’

  ‘I never mope,’ said Philip.

  ‘Because we can find you a much more suitable girl.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Mum. I don’t need you to find me anyone.’

  ‘A farmer’s daughter was never going to work out,’ said Adele.

  ‘Can we stop talking about her?’ asked Philip. ‘You never wanted to when I was going out with her, so you don’t need to now.’

  ‘Of course.’ Adele stood up again. ‘I just want to be sure you’re OK.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Philip. ‘Absolutely fine.’

  He closed his eyes and felt himself drifting off to sleep. He was back in the shop again, asking Lola to marry him, seeing the look of consternation on her face, hearing her say no. And then the phone rang again.

  Lola eventually got out of bed and padded into the kitchen, where Shirley and Fidelma were having tea and toast. Crona had gone out with her boyfriend.

  ‘Feeling better?’ asked Shirley as Lola pulled out a wooden chair and sat down. ‘There’s tea in the pot and I can shove another slice in the toaster if you’re hungry.’

  Lola shuddered. ‘I couldn’t eat a thing,’ she said.

  ‘A drop of tea will do you the world of good,’ said Shirley. ‘There’s nothing it won’t cure.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have drunk all that wine,’ said Lola. ‘If I go out for a night on the lash, I usually have beer. It fills me up before I have time to get completely hammered.’

  ‘Is your head at you? D’you want some Panadol?’ asked Shirley.

  ‘I don’t actually have a headache.’ Lola was surprised as she realised the fact. ‘I just feel awful.’

  ‘Stress,’ said Fidelma. ‘I’d feel awful too if I’d turned down a proposal from the handsomest man in Ireland.’

  ‘It’s probably a load of things.’ Lola pushed the mug away without tasting the tea. ‘Him, not getting promoted at work, getting pissed on Chianti . . .’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Fidelma. ‘Don’t worry, Lo-Lo, you’ll be grand tomorrow.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Lola, and rested her head on the table.

  Shirley and Fidelma exchanged glances. They weren’t sure if they should help her back to her room or leave her where she was. In the end, they left her. Sleep, said Fidelma, was probably the best thing for her, even if she ended up with a crick in her neck.

  Philip’s day of rest and recuperation had been ruined, although he hadn’t yet said anything about it to his mother. It had been the second phone call from Lorraine that had shocked him.

  ‘We’ve put everything out on display,’ she said. ‘One of the Troika engagement rings had fallen onto the safe floor and we missed it at first so we panicked a little bit about that.’

  ‘There’s no need to panic,’ Philip told her. ‘Everything’s there. I’m certain of it.’

  ‘Yes, well . . .’ Lorraine hesitated.

  ‘What?’ he demanded.

  ‘I wondered if you’d taken a pair of the Bluebell earrings with you,’ she said. ‘We’re missing them.’

  ‘You can’t be,’ said Philip. ‘I put the earrings in the small box at the back . . . Oh!’

  He’d just had a memory of putting his arms around Lola, trying to kiss her while she pushed him away. And he could see, as clearly as if he were there, the two small but perfect sapphires of the Bluebells shining in her ears.

  ‘Philip?’ Lorraine spoke enquiringly.

  ‘You’re absolutely right,’ he said. ‘I have them. I’d totally forgotten. Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Certain,’ he said.

  ‘That�
��s a relief. There was a pair of cheap studs on the floor and I was afraid . . . well, I’m not sure what I was thinking.’

  ‘I really do apologise.’ He kept his tone relaxed and easy. ‘Between leaving things in a mess last night and what happened afterwards, my head is all over the place.’

  ‘I understand. No problem,’ said Lorraine. ‘I hope you feel better soon.’

  ‘I’m sure I shall.’

  Philip replaced the receiver slowly as Adele walked into the room.

  ‘I told you I’d answer the phone,’ she said. ‘Was that Lorraine again?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and then added quickly, ‘everything’s fine, don’t worry.’

  ‘I wasn’t worried,’ said Adele. ‘But our senior sales adviser should be able to look after things without having to resort to ringing you every ten minutes.’

  ‘You’re exaggerating,’ said Philip. ‘She had some legitimate queries, that’s all.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘Mum, I’m the store manager. I know my staff. Lorraine is very competent.’

  ‘If you say so.’ Adele shrugged and walked out again.

  Philip hobbled back to his chair and ran his hands through his hair as he always did when he was worried. Had Lola deliberately taken those earrings? Had she intended to steal them from him? She’d practically thrown the other jewellery at him but had stormed off with the Bluebells in her ears. She must know by now she still had them. But she hadn’t yet contacted him about returning them. It was possible that she didn’t want to call. Maybe she was too embarrassed to talk to him. Perhaps she planned to bring them directly to the shop – although bringing them to the shop would mean having to see him face to face. She could hardly walk in and drop them on the counter.

  One way or another he’d have to get them back from her as soon as possible. Even if Lorraine didn’t say anything, his father would notice they were missing. He was razor sharp about the stock they held.

  Philip stared ahead of him, wondering what the best thing to do was. Then he got up from the chair again and went to the phone. He dialled the number of Lola’s flat. But nobody answered, and eventually he hung up.