Foreign Affairs

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘I’ve some news for you.’ Paula grinned at Helen as they drove into the driveway.

  ‘Let me guess, you’re taking lessons in Cordon Bleu,’ Helen joked.

  ‘Rotter,’ retorted Paula. ‘It isn’t quite as exotic as that. I’ve got a date tomorrow night.’

  ‘Tell me all!’ her aunt exclaimed as they let themselves into the house.

  ‘He’s my PE and games teacher, he’s good-looking, very athletic, and great gas.’ Paula summed up her date succinctly.

  ‘What age is he?’ Helen couldn’t disguise her surprise.

  ‘About twenty-two. He’s not a full-time teacher. Miss Doherty is our full-time teacher. Barry works part-time with different schools,’ Paula explained. ‘You’ll like him, Helen, honest. If we start dating or anything I’ll bring him home to meet you.’

  ‘Don’t you think he’s a little bit old for you?’ Helen arched an eyebrow.

  ‘He’s only six years older,’ Paula said lightly, hoping against hope that her aunt wasn’t going to make a song and dance about her date with Barry.

  ‘Wouldn’t you be better off going with a boy nearer your own age?’ Helen asked.

  ‘Oh Helen, all the ones I’ve met are nice, but they’re so boring!’ Paula couldn’t hide the exasperation in her tone.

  Helen laughed. ‘Paula Matthews, I’ve never met anyone like you! Boring indeed. Just be careful then. Don’t neglect your studies or that will be the end of it,’ Helen cautioned. ‘Where are you going with this Barry?’

  ‘Just for a drink first and then probably the pictures.’

  ‘No more than a glass of wine for you, Miss, and I want you to be home by midnight at the latest. OK? You’ve to be up for school the next morning,’ Helen warned.

  ‘No problem, Helen . . . and thanks.’ Paula gave her aunt a hug, which was warmly returned.

  The following evening, Paula sat in a snug little corner of the Oval, sipping a glass of white wine as she waited for Barry to arrive. He was late, she noted disapprovingly. If he asked her out again he could collect her. Now that Helen had given the OK, there was no reason for him not to call to the house. ‘I wouldn’t dare sit in a pub on my own. Be a bit late so you won’t have to,’ Jenny had warned when Paula told her about the date. Jenny and Beth had been agog when Paula informed them who her date was to be.

  ‘I don’t want it to get around though,’ Paula warned. ‘Barry thinks it might not go down too well with the nuns. You know, him being a teacher and everything.’

  The girls assured her that no-one would hear it from their lips. Paula knew that they were deeply impressed that Barry had asked her out. They were also impressed that she was meeting him in a pub. It surprised her that two city girls like Beth and Jenny should be so naïve. When Paula came to Dublin first, she’d expected that most of the girls in her class would be sophisticated city slickers. This wasn’t the case at all. It was no problem for Paula to wait on her own in a pub, but she knew that plenty of the girls at school wouldn’t be seen dead alone in a pub. In many ways she felt much more grown-up than her classmates. But then she’d always felt much older than she was, even as a child.

  ‘Hi Paula, sorry I’m late,’ Barry apologized. ‘I was trying to get parking, sorry about that.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ Paula said lightly. A first mistake could be forgiven. He looked very well in his grey cords, red and grey jumper and black leather jacket. He smelt of aftershave. She was impressed. She had always seen him in a track suit and trainers.

  ‘What would Barty say if she could see us now?’ Barry laughed. Paula joined in. One of the things she liked about Barry was his sense of humour. He ordered a pint and another glass of wine for her and they sat chatting away, enjoying each other’s company. They were so engrossed in their conversation they didn’t notice the time. It was too late to go to the pictures so Barry suggested they go for a meal. He took her to a small intimate restaurant off Dame Street. Paula thoroughly enjoyed herself.

  ‘I’ve got to be home by twelve,’ she said regretfully as they lingered over coffee.

  ‘Pity,’ Barry said, taking her hand. ‘There’s a full moon out. I was going to take you up to Howth so we could watch it shining over Dublin Bay.’

  ‘Beneath that tough athletic exterior lurks a romantic heart,’ Paula teased. A trip to moonlit Howth sounded very enticing. But she’d promised to be in by twelve and she didn’t want to blot her copybook with Helen on her first date with Barry.

  ‘Howth sounds lovely,’ she murmured, running her thumb along his forefinger. ‘But tonight I’m Cinderella.’

  ‘Maybe next weekend?’ Barry enquired.

  ‘Why not?’ smiled Paula, happy that there was going to be another date.

  She didn’t ask him in when they got home at five to midnight. Paula had to be up for school the following morning and she was sure her aunt would be less than pleased to know that she was downstairs having coffee with her PE teacher.

  ‘See you at school on Wednesday then,’ Barry said as they sat in the car. ‘But we’ll be just casual about things, no point in stirring up gossip.’ He leaned over and kissed her very lightly on the lips. Paula kissed him back, and was sorry that they didn’t have more time. She wouldn’t have minded a good snog. She found Barry extremely attractive. She was fairly certain that Barry Keating was no novice when it came to lovemaking.

  ‘Did you have a nice time?’ Helen called out as Paula walked quietly past her aunt’s bedroom.

  ‘I’d a lovely time, Helen.’ Paula went into Helen’s bedroom. ‘He’s asked me out next weekend as well.’

  ‘I’ve a proposition to put to you.’ Helen’s eyes twinkled.

  ‘I’m all ears.’ Paula sat down on the side of the bed.

  ‘I saw Nick going into his house so I asked him in for a cup of coffee.’ Helen laughed. Paula thought the holiday had done her so much good. She was lovely and tanned and healthy-looking. She seemed much more on top of things.

  ‘Did you tell him about you and Anthony?’ Paula asked gently.

  ‘Yes I did, love. He was very shocked and most sympathetic. He knows what it’s like. He’s been through it too.’

  ‘What’s this proposition then?’ Paula yawned.

  ‘You were saying you were thinking of getting a part-time job. Well I know of a job that wouldn’t be very hard, and would pay good money. A job which you are more than capable of doing—’

  ‘What is it, Helen? I’m dying to know!’ Paula exclaimed. Helen laughed at her niece’s impatience.

  ‘Calm down, it’s nothing dramatic but it will suit you down to the ground with your hotel experience and everything. Nick asked me if I knew of anyone around who’d be interested in a part-time cleaning and housekeeping job. All he wants is someone to keep the house hoovered and dusted, and to shop for groceries and so on. I suggested you,’ Helen announced.

  Paula was nonplussed. ‘But I was kind of rude to him.’ She grimaced. ‘He surely wouldn’t want me to work for him.’

  ‘When I told Nick about you working in the hotel for the summer, he said if you can keep a hotel clean, his house will be no trouble to you. I think he’d be glad of someone who’s not a complete stranger. You never know who you can trust these days,’ Helen remarked. ‘Anyway it’s up to you. If you’re interested you’ve to call in to him tomorrow evening. He’s going to be there until seven. If you don’t want it just let him know.’

  ‘How much is he going to pay?’ Paula queried. Her aunt mentioned a sum that made her eyes widen. Five pounds a week for part-time work was a fortune. This guy must be loaded! It would be ideal really. She wouldn’t have to travel anywhere, so she’d save on bus fares and hassle. And one man on his own could hardly make much of a mess. If she could clean fifteen hotel bedrooms, she could certainly handle one house.

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ she informed her aunt as she gave her a goodnight kiss.

  ‘That’s what I hoped you’d say, Paula. I think it’s ideal for you and it won’t
interfere too much with your studies. Now hop it to bed, or neither of us will be able to get up in the morning.’

  ‘It’s great to have you home. ’Night,’ Paula said fondly.

  ‘’Night, love.’ Helen snuggled down in her bed and switched off the lamp.

  It had been an eventful day, Paula decided as she undressed and got into bed. A date, and an offer of a job. Life could only get better, she decided with satisfaction. She was asleep in minutes.

  At five-thirty the following day Paula stood on her next-door neighbour’s doorstep. She wasn’t quite sure what to expect. He might be very cool – after all, she’d been a bit tetchy with him, to say the least. She shivered in the cold breeze and rang the doorbell again. She heard the sound of someone running down the stairs, then the door opened and Nick Russell stood there looking harassed.

  ‘Ah, Paula, come in. I’m on a call to Kenya. Can you excuse me a minute? Go into the sitting-room, I’ll be down shortly,’ he said and ran upstairs again. There was the smell of fresh paint everywhere. A decorator’s trestle-table lay alongside a half-papered wall in the hall. If the house was being redecorated, then it would be clean from the start, Paula reflected. To think she was standing in Green Car’s old abode. She missed the detectives and wondered where they’d moved to.

  ‘Sorry about that, Paula.’ Nick reappeared. ‘It’s nice to meet you again, thank you for calling.’ He shook hands with her, a good firm shake that she liked. If there was one thing that Paula found to be a complete and utter turn-off, it was a limp handshake. There was nothing limp about Nick Russell’s handshake. Paula studied the man in front of her. He was in his late thirties, or early forties, she guessed. He was of medium height, lean and fit-looking with a deep tan. His eyes were an unusual very dark blue, almost indigo. He had a piercing stare. Deep laughter lines around his eyes suggested good humour. Although they could have been caused by squinting in the sun. He had a straight nicely shaped nose, a firm mouth, strong jawline and a chin with an attractive dimple. He had thick fair hair that was bleached from being in the sun although she could see some grey at his temples. He wore a well-cut navy business suit and a crisp white shirt. Not bad for a middle-aged man, reckoned Paula approvingly. His wife’s lover must have been a real dish if she had left Nick for him, she thought.

  ‘So, Paula. Helen tells me you’ve worked summers as a chambermaid in a hotel and that keeping a house relatively spick and span would pose no difficulties to you?’ he said briskly.

  ‘No problem at all,’ Paula said confidently.

  ‘And you’d shop for me and send out laundry and let me have one untidy room, i.e. my office?’ He smiled. And she liked him. He had a faint west of Ireland accent that was most attractive.

  ‘Certainly,’ she agreed, smiling.

  ‘I won’t ask you to make cheese sauce,’ Nick teased and Paula’s mouth dropped open. What a blabbermouth Helen was, she thought, mortified.

  ‘It will cost you more if you do,’ she said coolly and Nick laughed.

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind. So do we have a deal?’

  ‘Sure,’ she agreed. ‘When do you want me to start?’

  Nick rubbed his jaw reflectively. ‘I’m hoping the workmen will be finished by the weekend. I’m staying in the Skylon at the moment. Let’s say this day week. How about if you come in Monday and Friday? I’ll leave out a list of shopping on Friday for you. I hate shopping.’

  ‘I’ll do that for you, Mr Russell,’ Paula said politely.

  ‘Good Lord,’ he exclaimed in horror. ‘For heaven’s sake don’t call me mister or I’ll sack you. It makes me feel ancient.’

  ‘OK, Nick, see you Monday week.’ Paula laughed.

  ‘I’ll get a key cut and drop it in. Tell Helen thanks for her help. It’s a great relief to have got myself organized.’ He grinned boyishly and Paula realized that he wasn’t old at all. When he smiled like that he looked much younger.

  At least he wasn’t some crusty old codger. And he seemed good-humoured enough. It could be a very pleasant way of earning money. Roll on Monday week, Paula reflected. But roll on Wednesday first, Paula was looking forward to seeing Barry again.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ‘I wish you didn’t have to go home for Christmas. It was the same last year,’ Barry murmured into Paula’s hair as he brushed it aside to kiss her neck and earlobe. They were sitting in his car in the lay-by at Griffith Park. Barry was giving her a lift home from a basketball match she’d just played against Eccles Street. They’d lost. It was dark and wet. Paula knew she had to get home to give Nick’s house a hoover and polish.

  ‘I’d better get home, Barry,’ she said regretfully.

  ‘Couldn’t you even come back for New Year’s Eve? We’re going to have a party. It’s going to be great.’

  ‘Look, Barry, I’ve told you,’ Paula said crossly. ‘I’ve got to go home for Christmas whether I like it or not. Helen’s coming as well and I can’t go rushing back to Dublin. My parents would be hurt.’

  ‘All right then,’ he growled. ‘I was just asking. That’s what I get for going with a schoolgirl, I suppose,’ he added sarcastically.

  ‘Well then, the simple answer to that is stop going with a schoolgirl. Isn’t it?’ Paula snapped. ‘I’ll walk the rest of the way from here.’

  ‘Oh give over, it’s lashing rain,’ Barry retorted, starting up the engine. They drove to Paula’s house in icy silence. When they got there, he got out, opened the car boot and handed her her sports bag and coat. She turned to go.

  ‘Wait a minute! What about Saturday night?’ he asked.

  ‘What about it?’ Paula drawled. ‘I’m only a schoolgirl. What are you asking me for? Go and ask someone grownup.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Barry declared and got into his car, slammed the door and revved the engine. The car sped off down the road.

  ‘I will, don’t worry,’ Paula responded sharply. Oh sod this for a lark, she scowled, retracing her footsteps down Helen’s garden path. She wasn’t going to bother changing out of her games gear. She’d just go straight in to Nick’s as she was. The job had worked out very well, she reflected as she let herself into the empty house. She got on fine with her employer. He was a fairly tidy man and it wasn’t hard to keep his house clean and neat, and do his shopping. Nick had told her several times that he was very pleased with the way she kept his house. He was a generous man and bought her a bottle of perfume or handmade chocolates on his occasional business trips abroad.

  She had just changed Nick’s bed and was polishing his bedside unit when she heard him racing up the stairs. She glanced at her watch. It had just gone six. Nick was never home before seven on a Monday evening. She always had the hoovering and polishing finished before he came home.

  ‘Hi Paula,’ he greeted her briskly. ‘You couldn’t do me a huge favour, could you?’ he asked, shrugging out of his jacket, loosening his tie, and unbuttoning his shirt.

  ‘Sure. What’s up?’ It was obvious he was in a rush. She couldn’t help noticing how tanned he was against the whiteness of his open shirt. He’d a nice hairy chest too, she thought approvingly.

  ‘I’ve got to go to London unexpectedly and I’ve managed to get a seat on an eight o’clock flight. Do you think you could make me a cheese sandwich or something, with a cup of coffee? I didn’t have time for lunch today and I’m starving. And would you ring a taxi for me for seven?’

  ‘Nick, you’ll give yourself ulcers,’ Paula scolded.

  ‘And you’ll get a cold in your kidneys in that get-up,’ Nick declared in amusement.

  ‘I came straight from basketball,’ she explained, catching sight of herself in the mirror. Her little navy skirt just barely covered the tops of her thighs, leaving a bare expanse of leg.

  ‘It looks much better than an apron,’ he teased. He was shirtless now and his deep blue eyes were smiling at her. She smiled back. It suddenly dawned on Paula that Nick Russell was a bit of all right. She’d been working for him for over a year
now, but she hadn’t really taken much notice of him, that way. She’d been too taken up with Barry. And now here he was, with those blue, blue eyes smiling at her. He’d a rather sexy bod too, from what she could see. It was vaguely unsettling. She’d never thought of Nick like that.

  ‘I’ll go and make you something to eat,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Thanks, Paula. You’re a gem,’ Nick said gratefully as he strode into the bathroom.

  So are you, she thought glumly to herself as she hurried downstairs to the kitchen. What on earth was wrong with her? It was Barry she fancied and Barry who turned her on. Why on earth was she suddenly finding her employer quite fanciable? Up until now, she’d just been interested in the five pound note Nick gave her every Friday, not in him. Was it because she’d had a row with Barry? That was most probably it, Paula decided as she grilled some bacon and scrambled some eggs. Forget about Nick Russell, you daft pillock, she told herself sternly. He was about twenty years older than she was. Old enough to be her father. A crush on Nick was something she needed like a hole in the head. ‘Cop on to yourself, Matthews,’ she muttered as she made toast for the scrambled eggs.

  Upstairs, she could hear the shower running. He was always rushing about. Nick was consumed by his business. Although he’d told Helen that he’d come back to live in Dublin because he was ‘cutting down.’ That must be why his marriage failed, Paula suggested. But Helen said that he’d only started to work like that when his wife had left him, to blot out the misery he’d felt at finding her in bed with his best friend. Helen seemed to think he’d been a pretty good husband. From what Paula had seen of him, Nick was a considerate, kind person. She often felt sorry for him, coming in from work with no-one to share the good and bad points of his day.

  Helen sometimes asked him in to share their evening meal. He always said how nice it was to taste home cooking as he usually ate in hotels or restaurants. Helen and he got on very well. But then of course, they had a lot in common.