When things had settled down, Kate asked, “Have you told George yet?”
“Hmmm . . . no, not yet. I was thinking of taking him out for a meal tonight and breaking the news to him then.”
“Yeah, well, it’s time you did,” Kate advised her.
“I’m sure he’ll be pleased for you,” Kevin said.
“You don’t know George,” Tessa replied, apprehension in her voice.
As they sat in the Ballyfern Inn, later that evening, George remarked, his voice very serious, “You’ve been jittery all afternoon, Tessa. Is something bothering you?”
“No . . . well, yes.” She didn’t quite know how to begin, so she just blurted it out. “Actually, I’ve got a job.” She looked at him, dreading his reaction.
“A job?” he said, wrinkling his nose with distaste.
“Yes, with a designer shoe company. It’s only part-time and I’ll be a sales manager, managing a team of women who’ll sell direct to the customer.”
“And do you mind telling me how you got this job – behind my back?” he asked, his voice icy.
“It wasn’t behind your back. I just didn’t want to say anything until I was sure I’d got it.”
“You still hid it from me. I don’t like secrets,” he replied, his face grim.
She looked at him helplessly.
“I don’t want you to work. I earn more than enough to keep us both in comfort. Why do you want to do this?” His eyes were hard and his lips compressed in annoyance.
“I really need something, George, other than golf and riding. I feel I’m stagnating.” Tessa prayed that he’d under-stand.
“Remember what the doctor said: ‘No stress’. I presume this job is in Dublin?” he asked archly.
“Yes, but there won’t be stress and anyway I can’t stay wrapped up in cotton wool for the rest of my life.” She looked at him hopefully, willing him to understand.
“You know my feelings on the subject,” he replied tersely, pressing his fingertips together. “What will everyone think? Selling shoes indeed! Now I don’t want to discuss it further.” Straightening his tie, he opened the menu, signalling that the conversation was over.
After that, their conversation was stilted and general and when they got home, George went straight up the stairs to bed. When she went up, thirty minutes later, his light was off and he was lying rigid, way over on his side of the bed. She knew that he was still awake. He was angry with her but she didn’t care. She wanted to take on this job and he had no right to stop her.
Niamh had decided to break the news to Gavin and his mother over tea.
“I have some good news. I got a job.” There really was no other way to say it.
“What kind of job?” he asked suspiciously – thinking babyminder, lollipop lady, cleaner.
“It’s with an Italian shoe company. They sell designer shoes and I’ll be an area manager.”
“You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed, his mouth dropping open. “What about the children? Who’ll look after them?”
Niamh could see he was worried that it might be him. “I can work when they’re at school,” she told him. She was so anxious for him to agree that she couldn’t touch the macaroni cheese on her plate.
“I hope you don’t expect Gavin or me to mind them while you’re off gadding about?” Bridget had to put in her tuppence-worth, as usual. “You young ones! All these fancy notions about working! You should be home looking after your children. It’s not your husband’s job to do that,” she sniffed.
Niamh wanted to throttle her. No, it’s my husband’s job to bring in some money, she wanted to scream at her, and why shouldn’t Gavin look after his own children occasionally? She knew better than to voice this aloud. She knew Gavin would side with his mother and she couldn’t hope to win against the pair of them.
“Ma’s right, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said petulantly, stuffing a forkful of macaroni in his mouth.
Nothing affects his appetite! Niamh thought bitterly.
She dropped the subject, determined to bring it up later when Bridget wasn’t around to stick her nose in.
“Can you baby-sit tonight, Gav? I’d like to go down to Daly’s with Mam and Val for a drink.”
“Sorry, no way, I’m meeting the lads. Maybe Ma will.” He looked at his mother hopefully.
“Well, I suppose,” Bridget said grudgingly, “as they’ll be in bed. But mind,” she threw the words at Niamh, “if they wake up, I’ll be ringing your mobile and you’ll have to come home.”
Niamh felt the tears prick her eyes. It was so unfair. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone out on her own.
Please God I won’t have to stand this much longer, she thought. If this job works out we’ll be able to move into our own place. This thought put her in better form as she met up with her mother in Daly’s.
“Where’s Val?” she asked her mother, taking her coat off and slipping in beside her.
“I’ve no idea, love. I’ve left messages on her mobile but she didn’t ring back.”
“That’s strange. I hope she’s okay,” Niamh said worriedly.
“You know her, love. She probably met some guy and is shacked up with him,” Eileen spoke resignedly, as if she was well used to this. “Anyway, you and I will celebrate your new job together. I’m so proud of you and your dad would be too, if he was alive.”
Niamh felt a lump in her throat. “Mam, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, giving her mother a hug. She meant it from the bottom of her heart.
She ordered two Bacardis and Coke and they settled down to enjoy the evening. There was no sign of Val all night and, luckily, no phone call from Bridget either.
When she got home she checked on the kids and, pulling the covers up on them, kissed them gently. They looked so sweet and vulnerable that her heart welled up with love for them. When they were sleeping, they reminded her of the cherubs in Raphael’s paintings – her little angels. She tiptoed into bed and lay awake, waiting for Gavin to come home. When he climbed into bed beside her, she broached the subject of the job again.
“Gav, I’d really like to try this,” she said, her fingers crossed under the covers. “I know I can work while the kids are at school. You won’t even notice I’m doing it.”
He’d had more than a few pints and just wanted to go to sleep. “I suppose,” he mumbled, and then he started to snore gently.
She hugged herself tight, thinking that this was going to change her life. Gavin would get used to it. As long as she made sure it wouldn’t inconvenience him or interfere with his life, he wasn’t bothered. She’d be sure to keep it like that.
Chapter 7
On Sunday afternoon, Amber was sitting in Susie’s garden enjoying the last of the summer sunshine. After a delicious lunch, Susie’s husband, Tony, had taken the two kids off to visit his mother, leaving the girls chatting over a glass of wine.
“I’m so delighted you got the job. It will be a new start for you.” Susie beamed at her friend. “And to think that Grace Taylor is running it! I always liked her. You’ll enjoy working with her. I’m really looking forward to seeing her on Monday night.”
“I’m glad you’re able to make it. In fact, I’m dreading it now because I’ll have to tell her my whole sorry story,” Amber said with a grimace, twirling a curl around her finger, “and you know, Grace, she’ll want to know all the gory details.”
“Amber,” Susie said gently, placing a hand on her friend’s arm, “I think it’s time. You haven’t spoken about it in a year, not since your divorce came through. It’s time to let it go. Move on. Maybe talking about it will release it and then you can start this new phase in your life and put the past behind you.”
Amber knew Susie was right and she thought about it later that night as she lay soaking in her bath. She had tried to block all memories of her marriage out of her mind. It was too painful to even think about. The drink had helped but now that she’d cut that out, the
memories were more raw than ever. She knew Susie was right. It was time to let go and move on. If she didn’t do it now she’d never do it. Lying in the delicious warmth of the bubble bath, candles flickering all around, she let her mind drift back.
She’d first met Dermot on a flight to New York and although she’d never believed in all that “eyes across the room” lark, it was actually how it had happened. He was older than her but very attractive, in a mature way, and he’d made it obvious that he fancied her from the off.
Just before landing he’d invited her to dinner that evening. Seeing her hesitation, he had reassured her by saying, “It’s quite okay. I promise you, I’m not a married man. I’m divorced, actually.”
Whew! Thank God for that! Amber’s last relationship had ended disastrously when she’d discovered that the man she had been seeing – and sleeping with – for over a year, had neglected to mention that he also had a wife and four children. She had sworn off men after that but now she couldn’t resist Dermot’s invitation. He took her to Tavern on The Green, in Central Park, a restaurant she’d often admired. She was utterly enchanted to find it a blaze of fairy lights and lanterns. Amber thought that it was surely the most romantic place on earth and over the course of the evening, it cast its spell and they’d fallen deeply in love. Six months later they were back there, celebrating their wedding dinner. It was like a fairy tale; she was the princess, he the handsome prince and they would live happily ever after. Or so she’d thought.
Initially, she’d been blissfully happy. Dermot was a high-powered financier and he opened up a whole new world to her that she’d never known existed. He was passionate about opera and took her to The Metropolitan in New York, La Scala in Milan and to the Verdi Festival in Verona. He also had a yacht in the South of France, where they spent many glorious weekends. For holidays they sailed the Mediterranean. No matter where they travelled, he’d been there before and he introduced her to beautiful quiet places, off the beaten track. She’d travelled a lot in her job but all she’d ever really seen were hotel rooms and shops. She now realised just what she’d missed.
After their marriage, she’d sold her apartment in Clontarf and moved into his big spacious house in Foxrock. He had a large coterie of friends who shared his interests: sailing, golf and opera. Like Dermot, they were all quite a bit older than Amber, but they welcomed her with open arms and were very pleasant, with one exception. Maeve was the wife of his best friend Jeff and she was a bitch. The first time they’d met she’d informed Amber, “We were all terribly upset when Dermot divorced Camilla. They were perfect together. However, young things have always attracted him and you are obviously cleverer than those who went before you.”
Amber was so gobsmacked by her remark that she couldn’t think of a reply. She was very upset after this encounter but Dermot brushed it aside. “Don’t mind her. She and Camilla were best friends and she was upset at our divorce. Don’t give her another thought.”
Easier said than done, Amber thought. She tried to ignore Maeve’s remarks, hoping they might become friends but Maeve tried to undermine her at every possible opportunity and in the end Amber gave up on her.
Her marriage was everything Amber had ever dreamed of and she and Dermot were very much in love. She was still working and would be away for three days at a time, flying transatlantic. She enjoyed the camaraderie between the cabin crew, not to mention the fantastic shopping in New York and Los Angeles, but she was always happy to get back home. She missed Dermot dreadfully when she was away.
Life was perfect and then, out of the blue, Dermot was headhunted by one of the biggest European Financial Institutions and things changed. In his new position he had to regularly entertain foreign financiers and their wives. He wanted Amber by his side. She didn’t want to give up her job but just then the airline offered early redundancy. She loved flying and the craic she had on overnights in foreign cities, not to mention the shoe shops in New York! She also treasured her independence but Dermot was adamant. He expected her to comply with his wishes. She held out for as long as she could but she didn’t stand a chance in the face of his determination. She loved him too much. In the end, she gave in and resigned.
She didn’t miss work as much as she’d expected she would and the first five years had been great. It had been very exciting: dinners, receptions, fascinating people, foreign travel, invites to all the best parties. But then Dermot had been promoted and sent to Brussels. He didn’t need her there. She went over occasionally but mostly he left on Monday morning and returned on Friday evening. She felt bereft and didn’t know what to do with herself. She rambled around the big house, alone, all week long.
The crazy thing was that all of her married friends thought she had the perfect life: husband gone on Monday, back on Friday. “Oh, how I wish my husband would get a job like that – you lucky thing!” she heard over and over. Amber didn’t see it like that. She adored Dermot and hated being away from him. She felt that they were drifting apart and she was scared. She started learning Italian and joined the local tennis club but there were still a lot of empty hours to fill. She was lonely and felt her life was aimless. She thought that maybe now was a good time to start a family – after all she was thirty-two – it was time! When she broached the subject to Dermot, she recoiled at his vehemence.
“Forget it, Amber. I don’t want children. I never have. Anyway I’m too old to start all that. This was the main reason Camilla and I got divorced. She used to go on and on about it. So just forget it. I’m just not father material.”
She was shocked. They’d never actually discussed it but she had always assumed that they would have kids some day. Lots of men had children in their fifties. Why, some celebrities like Al Pacino and Anthony Quinn had kids in their sixties and seventies! She couldn’t believe Dermot’s attitude or the fact that he wouldn’t consider her wishes at all. After all, she was still a young woman and it was only natural that she would want children.
This was when Amber started drinking. Whether from boredom, loneliness, or disappointment, she couldn’t have said, but the alcohol helped. In the beginning, she only drank after six o’clock. Maybe a gin and tonic or two and then she’d open a bottle of wine with dinner. She never intended to finish it but it was very easy to keep pouring as she sat alone watching television, night after night. Then one Friday evening, Dermot didn’t arrive home. She was beside herself with worry, imagining an accident or some other awful tragedy. That was until the phone call that exploded her life into tiny fragments.
It was Dermot on the other end. He pulled no punches. “I’m truly sorry, Amber,” he said. “I don’t know how to say this and I really hate having to hurt you, but I’ve met someone else. I want a divorce.”
She sat looking at the phone, like an idiot, thinking that he was joking. She even thought for a moment that maybe it was April Fool’s Day. It wasn’t, and it wasn’t a joke either. She couldn’t understand it. She felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach and her mouth went dry. She groped for the nearest chair and sat down.
“Amber, are you still there?” Dermot’s voice was full of concern. “Did you hear what I said?”
When she finally found her voice she replied. “Dermot, please tell me this is not true.”
“I’m really, really sorry, Amber. I don’t want to hurt you but our marriage is over.” His voice sounded final.
“You can’t mean that, Dermot. Please, darling! You’re just feeling lonely over there. We have to talk.” She could hear the panic in her own voice. “I realise that being apart all week is a strain,” she rushed on, “but we’ll get over this. I love you. I could come to live in Brussels with you. We’ll work it out.” She was pleading with him now, her voice tearful.
“There is nothing to work out, Amber. I’m sorry. Please don’t make this more difficult than it already is. You’ll be looked after financially – have no fears there – but I want a divorce, and as quickly as possible.”
He sounded
so cold. “Who is this other woman?” she cried. “Do I know her?”
“No.”
“How did you meet her?” She had to know what she was up against.
“Amber, that is not important,” he assured her.
“It’s bloody important to me!” she yelled. “I want to know who is stealing my husband and wrecking my marriage.”
“It’s someone I met here. She’s the daughter of a colleague,” he said, sighing. “I knew you’d make a scene,” he continued. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you in person. Goodbye, Amber. My solicitor will be in touch with you.”
Before Amber could say more, he’d hung up.
She couldn’t understand it. She sat staring at the phone. Had this really happened or was it just a bad dream? They had a happy marriage. They loved each other. Of course they argued from time to time, like all married couples, but her marriage was as solid as they come. Or so she’d thought. She’d even given up on her wish to have children because that was what he wanted. How could this be happening? The daughter of a colleague, he’d said. That meant that she was probably a young thing. He was trading her in for a newer model! She started to laugh hysterically. She’d been the newer model once and now she was being thrown on the trash heap.
She couldn’t come to terms with it. She’d often heard of women who’d thought they were happily married and who were shocked when their husbands upped and left them. As if, Amber used to think, sceptically. She didn’t believe a word of it! How could they not have known that their husbands didn’t love them? Frankly, she thought they were fools and now it looked like she had joined their ranks.
And how cruel of him not to tell her face to face! That’s Dermot all over, she thought bitterly. Couldn’t stand a scene!
In tears, she rang Susie, who rushed over straight away. She hugged Amber and made her repeat what Dermot had said, word for word.
“I can’t believe it, Amber!” Susie was shocked. “He adores you. All the girls say so. God, if your marriage is in trouble then there’s no hope for the rest of us!” There was anguish in her voice. “You’ll have to talk this out together. He can’t just end it like that, with a phone call. He was probably lonely and some girl took advantage of it. It’s probably just a silly affair – male menopause and all that!” She put her arm around Amber’s shoulders and felt her shaking. “Dermot loves you. I’m sure of that. You’ll have to sit down with him and talk about it.”
If the Shoes Fit Page 6
