A Year Like No Other

by Pauline Lawless

  He had no doubt that it would all come to a messy end and that it would be Jazz who would be hurt.

  The meal was wonderful and the wine was perfect with it.

  “This is delicious,” he said, his mouth full of bacon and sauerkraut. “The best I’ve ever tasted. Real comfort food – just what the doctor ordered.”

  “Have you heard how Taylor is?” Jazz asked him as she speared a piece of sausage.

  “Yes, my friend Bob who’s looking after her keeps me informed. She’s not too happy there, seemingly,” he grimaced.

  “Things are not good between you, are they?” she asked gently.

  Brandon rarely discussed his marriage with anyone – he felt it was disloyal to Taylor – but now, after Jazz’s revelations, he felt they were good enough friends to share his problems with her.

  “They’re worse than not good,” he confided. “I thought that the year in Paris might help us but things have actually got worse since we arrived here. She changed utterly. She started drinking a lot and I suspect the drugs she was taking have affected her personality too.”

  “It must have made life very difficult for you,” Jazz sympathised.

  “Hell, actually,” he admitted, with a wry smile. “I had planned to seek a divorce when we got back to the States and then all this happened.”

  “What about Chantal?” she asked him diffidently, afraid he might tell her it was none of her business.

  “She’s a sweet girl and we have a mutually pleasing relationship. She doesn’t want any romantic involvement and neither do I. Taylor decided twenty-two years ago, when the twins were born, that she wanted to have nothing more to do with sex so, of course, she accepts that I have a woman from time to time. I’ve never got involved with any of them but, suddenly, it’s not enough.” He looked downcast.

  Jazz reached across the table and patted his hand. “I’m so sorry,” she said, sympathetically. She was shocked at his revelations.

  “It’s not just sex I need any more. What I miss is a loving relationship, someone to share things with. That’s why I’d decided to look for a divorce from Taylor. Now I don’t know what’s going to happen. We’ll have to see how things go.” He smiled sadly. “So, that’s my secret. Now you must promise not to tell anyone either.”

  “I promise,” she said, crossing her heart.

  He crossed his heart too and smiled at the childish gesture.

  “We’re a right pair,” he said, refilling her glass. “You, in love with a married man and me trapped in a loveless marriage. You’d think we’d have enough sense at our age to have it sorted.”

  “That’s life,” she said, raising her glass to him.

  40

  Ashling had loved having her mother and Fiona to stay over the weekend and wished they could have stayed longer. As she left them at the departure gate at the airport, she hugged them both.

  “You’ll have to come again soon,” she said. “It was brilliant having you here.”

  “We will, love, we will,” her mother replied, hugging her again. “You mind yourself now.”

  Fiona was busy texting Hugh again. She’d done nothing else since she’d got up this morning. “Hugh says he’s going to come to Ireland to see me,” she cried, her eyes shining.

  “Oh my God, what have we started here?” Ashling laughed.

  Nora threw her eyes to heaven. She could see that she’d be forking out for flights to Paris for her romantic daughter in the future. Still, she was delighted to see Fiona so happy and this guy Hugh seemed like a very decent fellow.

  As soon as Ashling entered the gym, Hugh bounded over to her.

  “Did Fee get off okay? Was she lonely going?” he wanted to know.

  “Yes and yes,” she replied, laughing. She was pleased to see that he was as smitten as Fiona was. Thank God it wasn’t one-sided. She’d hate her baby sister to get hurt.

  “She’s brilliant. I really like her. I’m planning to go to Dublin to see her in two weeks’ time.”

  “That’s great. She’ll give you a good time there. She has loads of friends.”

  “I can imagine. Everyone must love her,” he said, his eyes dreamy.

  Lordy me, he has it bad too, Ashling thought as he bounded away to answer the phone. Just as she was leaving the gym she saw him texting, a big grin on his face. She wondered if it was her sister who was on the receiving end.

  It was. Hugh came over to her, his face split in a smile.

  “They’ve landed safely in Dublin,” he reported.

  “I guess your texting bills are going to be quite high for the next few weeks,” she laughed.

  “I hope so,” he replied, beaming at her.

  Corey was seated at his usual table when she entered the café and she joined him for a quick coffee.

  “What a lovely woman your mother is,” he remarked, as Remy appeared with two coffees.

  “She was equally charmed by you,” Ashling laughed, remembering how coquettish her mother had become in his presence.

  “What a beautiful family!” he sighed. “And I wasn’t joking when I told her you were a talented writer. I’ve just heard back from my agent and he likes the six chapters of your novel that I sent him.”

  “Oh my God!” Ashling’s hand flew to her mouth. “You’re not serious? I can’t believe it!” Her face was flushed with pleasure. “I didn’t know you were going to send it to him.”

  “Well, when I realised how good you were, I thought I’d suss it out. My agent suggests that as it’s based in Europe, it would be best to go with a publisher in the UK. As you know, Philippa Gregory’s novels have been hugely successful there and yours are in the same genre. He’s willing to approach them, on your behalf, as he has great contacts there. He’s convinced it’s a winner, so you go, girl, and get the rest of that novel finished, pronto!” He laughed at her incredulity.

  “Oh I will, I will!” She jumped up, overcome with delight. She couldn’t believe it.

  Blowing him a kiss, she went to her own table where she got down to work with a light heart. Me, a published author! I can’t believe it, she said to herself, over and over.

  Yves had passed a miserable weekend. Sophie was angry with him and he didn’t blame her. He’d have to cool it with Jazz. She was getting too involved and that was the last thing he needed. No, great as the sex was, he’d have to finish it. He really did love Sophie and couldn’t imagine his life without her and Pierre. He just found it so hard to resist chasing women. He loved the excitement of it. He loved the sex and Sophie understood his need but it had to stop at the sex. No romantic involvement – they’d both agreed on that.

  On Monday morning he went into Jazz’s office, as he did every morning, but he avoided looking at her directly.

  “How is Taylor?” he asked Brandon.

  “She’s doing fine,” Brandon replied. “Happy to be back in the States.” That wasn’t strictly a lie. She was glad to be out of France although she wasn’t exactly happy with where she was in the States.

  “Give her my regards,” Yves said before starting to discuss the agenda for the week ahead.

  He left the office without saying a word to Jazz. She was worried. Had something happened? Normally he couldn’t take his eyes off her and dallied on the least excuse. Today it was different. He didn’t text to ask her to meet for lunch. When he hadn’t contacted her by four o’clock she swallowed her pride and texted him, ‘Are we meeting tonight?’ He replied, ‘Sorry, not tonight.’ In a moment of weakness, he added, ‘Tomorrow night? Your place?’ Relieved, she texted back, ‘Can’t wait! xx’

  Yves knew that this was probably a mistake but the thought of Jazz’s voluptuous body was irresistible. Just then his phone rang.

  “Hi, lover boy, remember me?” He recognised the American drawl but couldn’t visualise the owner. He hesitated for a second – then it came to him.

  “Marilyn! How could I not remember you? You’ve been on mind since last week,” he lied.

  “Well, ho
w about my being on your body instead,” she purred, her voice husky and incredibly sexy.

  Maybe this was what he needed to give him the courage to finish with Jazz. “Anytime,” he smiled to himself.

  “Tonight?”

  “My pleasure,” he replied, his voice low and smooth.

  “Mine too, I hope,” she pealed with laughter.

  She had the sexiest laugh he’d ever heard. He gave her the address of the Hôtel Lutèce and they arranged to meet there at six thirty. He then rang the concierge, Guy, and asked him to put two glasses and a bottle of champagne on ice in the room for him.

  Guy laughed. Another new conquest for Monsieur Yves! He had to be the randiest man in Paris. He wished he knew from where he got his stamina. Guy did as he was asked, knowing that Monsieur Yves would reward him with a generous tip, as he always did.

  When Yves rang Sophie to say he’d be late, she decided she’d had enough. She had to find out who her rival was. Kissing Pierre goodnight, she told him to be a good boy for Cosette before setting out for the Île Saint-Louis. She had known about the Hôtel de Lutèce since Yves had first brought her there many years previously. She also knew, from his bank statements, that he rented the room on a yearly basis. She guessed that this was where he brought his lovers but it had never bothered her till now.

  Parking her car, she put on the long blonde wig and sunglasses and made her way to the little café directly opposite the hotel. Taking a seat where she had a clear view of the hotel door she didn’t have long to wait. Within twenty minutes, Yves swaggered along. He entered the hotel looking neither left nor right as he took the stairs two at a time.

  Filled with apprehension, sipping slowly at her glass of wine, she saw the taxi draw up and the blonde alight. From a distance it could have been Marilyn Monroe. Then it dawned on her. It was Marilyn – Taylor’s friend. I might have guessed! Sophie grimaced. She remembered how Marilyn had been flirting outrageously with Yves at Taylor’s party and how he’d obviously enjoyed it. So that’s the mystery woman! In a way, she felt relieved. Marilyn was sex-on-legs and there was no way Yves would have wanted her for anything other than sex. She was happy that the mystery was cleared up once and for all, yet somehow she felt deflated. The fact that Yves would rather spend his evenings with this bimbo rather than with her and Pierre left her feeling demeaned. What did it say about their marriage?

  Making her way back to her car, she wondered if it was her fault that he felt this need for other women. She had hoped that once he became a father he would slow down. Even though he was now past fifty, he showed no signs of that – except with her. Their love-making had declined lately and become much more infrequent. Perhaps Marilyn was exhausting him so much that he had no energy left for her when he got home.

  She sighed as she got into her car and pulled off the wig and sunglasses. She couldn’t go on like this. Things would have to change!

  Jazz and Yves had arranged to meet in her apartment the following night. He was apprehensive about the meeting and she sensed from the minute he walked in the door that something was wrong. They made love straight away and as they were lying together afterwards, he smoking a Gauloise as he always did after their love-making, she asked him if everything was okay.

  “Chérie, I am sorry, but we will have to cut back on our meetings because my wife is not happy that I am out every night with you,” he told her.

  Jazz felt like she’d been punched in the stomach.

  “Does Sophie know about me?” she whispered, panic in her voice.

  “No. She does know that I have a mistress but she has no idea who it is,” he assured her.

  She flinched at the word ‘mistress’. It sounded seedy somehow. She didn’t want to be his mistress – she wanted to be his love.

  “So you understand that I cannot meet you so much now,” he continued, unaware of her feelings.

  She felt let down and cheap. She’d hoped that he’d discover that he truly loved her and somehow find a solution. Now it appeared that he was more concerned with appeasing Sophie than pleasing her. Unfairly, she knew, she felt jealous of Sophie. And how would she survive not seeing him every night? She couldn’t bear to think of it.

  “And how often can you meet me?” she asked in a whisper, afraid of the answer.

  “Maybe two nights a week,” he replied, cupping her face in his hands. “You understand, ma petite, I want to be with you all the time, but it’s not possible.”

  She wanted to believe him and when he started caressing between her thighs once more she put all these thoughts from her mind as she succumbed to his touch. After they’d made love once more, he said he would have to go and left abruptly, leaving her feeling empty and dejected.

  Mistress, she said to herself, hating the word. I’m just his mistress!

  On Wednesday Sophie rang Ashling. “Pierre has me pestered to let him go to your house to play with the girls. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not,” Ashling laughed. “They’ll be delighted. Is Friday okay? I’ll pick him up from school and you can collect him later.”

  “That would be great. I’ll pick him up around six.”

  It was a very happy little boy who greeted Ashling on Friday afternoon. The three children got on extremely well together and Ashling wondered where they got their energy from.

  “Pierre’s my boyfriend,” Orna announced over lunch, as the little boy sat beaming at her.

  “He’s my boyfwend too,” Ciara lisped.

  “No, he can’t be yours too,” Orna informed her. “Can he, Mummy?”

  Before Ashling could think of a way out of this dilemma, Pierre saved the day. He had it all worked out.

  “I’ll be your boyfriend on Monday, Wednesday and Friday,” he told Orna, “and on Tuesday and Thursday I’ll be Ciara’s. Is that all right?”

  Ashling laughed at the ingenuity of it.

  Orna looked perplexed until she realised that she would have him more days than Ciara. She seemed happy enough with that.

  “Today’s Friday, so it’s my turn,” she exclaimed, with a pleased smile.

  Sophie arrived at six, as agreed, but the children were in the middle of a game and Pierre begged to be allowed to stay a little longer.

  “Oh, do let him stay another hour. They’ve no school tomorrow and Kieran is gone to Ireland to visit his mother again. I could do with some adult company,” Ashling admitted, pulling a face.

  “Why not? There’s no one waiting for me either,” Sophie said, sitting down as Ashling poured two glasses of wine for them.

  “Is Yves working?” she asked the pretty French woman.

  “Not exactly,” she grimaced. “To tell you the truth he has a new mistress and he’s seeing her every night.”

  Ashling almost dropped her glass in shock. She didn’t know what to say. “I am sorry,” was all she could manage. Her voice sounded like a squeak even to her own ears.

  “Well, I’ve never minded him having a mistress but I was getting worried as this time he had begun meeting her every night. I was concerned that perhaps he was getting involved but when I discovered who she is, I realised that my fears were unfounded.” She smiled over the rim of her glass.

  Ashling felt the blood drain from her face. “Why is that?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  “Well, it’s Taylor’s friend, Marilyn.”

  Nothing could have prepared Ashling for this piece of news.

  “Marilyn?” she squeaked. Felicity had told her all about the sex-siren. “How do you know?”

  “I know Yves holds his little trysts in the Hôtel de Lutèce and I spied on him last Monday night. I know it’s not a nice thing to do but I had to find out who he was seeing, as he wouldn’t tell me.”

  Ashling realised with horror that this was the same hotel that he’d been taking Jazz to. Not only that but Jazz had arrived on Ashling’s doorstep last Monday, very dejected because Yves had been unable to meet her. God, what a mess! It looked like Yves was two-timing Jazz as well as
his wife. She felt equally sorry for both women.

  “What can I say?” she said feebly.

  “I’m sorry for unburdening myself like this,” Sophie apologised, “but somehow you are so kind, you invite confidences.”

  Ashling had heard this so many times before that she now wished to God that she wasn’t so bloody kind! What should she do now?

  She refilled their glasses, relieved that Sophie had not noticed her shock.

  “I guess it will burn itself out, like it always does, but I think maybe it’s time to call a halt to all his philandering.”

  “I don’t know how you do it,” Ashling said truthfully. “If Kieran went with another woman, I’d kill him.” From the tone of her voice, Sophie knew she meant it.

  “Yes, well, it’s the way it is,” Sophie replied, not sounding too happy about it.

  They discussed Taylor and Kieran’s mother’s illness until it was time for Sophie and Pierre to leave. Ashling closed the door with relief. And to think I wanted some adult company, she thought, having got more than she’d bargained for with Sophie. I’ll settle for children from now on!

  Brandon was very concerned about Jazz. They went out for a drink on Friday night and she told him that Yves was pulling back on their relationship. She’d only met up with him twice that week and she was very depressed about it. Brandon wished to God that Yves would finish it completely and let Jazz move on with her life but, knowing the bastard, he guessed that he’d hang in there as long as it suited him.

  He also wasn’t happy with the reports he was getting from Bob. Taylor had been three weeks in the clinic now and had seemingly made friends with another patient there – a young man who was a serious drug user. He came from a very wealthy family but according to Bob he was an utter waster. Bob was afraid that this friendship would not be very helpful to Taylor’s recovery. He had spoken to Taylor who had told him to fuck off and mind his own business. She’d make friends with whoever she chose, she’d informed him. There was nothing that Brandon could do except wait and hope. He had made up his mind. He would wait for Taylor to recover and be well again and then he would seek a divorce. He couldn’t kick her while she was down, so for the moment, he’d have to stick by her.