‘Steffie—’
‘Honestly. There’s no need to be all self-sacrificing and macho about it. I’m the one who barged in so I’m the one who should take the couch and be grateful.’
‘OK.’ He shrugged. ‘Whatever you like.’
‘At least it’s somewhere for you to stay,’ said Bobby. ‘And tomorrow …’
‘I’ve no idea what I’m going to do tomorrow,’ said Steffie.
‘Things will have settled down a bit by then. You’ll feel differently,’ said Tom.
‘You think?’ Steffie’s tone was bleak.
‘You’ll be better in yourself,’ he amended.
‘Tom’s right,’ said Bobby. ‘Tomorrow is another day, as the magnificent Scarlett O’Hara in the best book and movie in the world would say. In the meantime, could you bring us the bill, Liam? We’d better go, it’s getting late.’
‘It’s on the house,’ Liam said.
‘Absolutely not.’ Bobby looked horrified.
‘My treat,’ said Liam. ‘At least you guys kept me busy this evening.’
‘Hardly,’ said Tom.
‘I’d have been sitting around like an eejit otherwise,’ Liam said. ‘I much prefer that I was able to cook for someone.’
‘And rescue a damsel in distress,’ added Steffie.
Liam grinned. ‘You can’t say that your family haven’t kept me occupied tonight.’
‘Though I really shouldn’t stay either,’ said Steffie.
‘You’ve already accepted my limited hospitality,’ said Liam. ‘You can’t run away again.’
‘Please let us pay.’ Bobby stood up and took his wallet from his jacket pocket.
‘No,’ said Liam. ‘You can spread the word about my wonderful restaurant instead.’
‘I’d do that anyway,’ said Bobby. ‘It was a fantastic meal. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Liam walked with the two men to the door of the restaurant and handed them a giant golf umbrella before waving them into the night.
‘It’s normal Irish rain out there now,’ he told Steffie when he returned. ‘Heavy, but not sheeting it down. So hopefully they’ll only get a bit wet, not totally drenched.’
‘Perhaps I could get to Aranbeg after all. Although …’
‘If the gate is flooded, it’ll stay flooded,’ Liam pointed out. ‘It hasn’t actually stopped raining. Anyway, we’ve agreed you’ll stay here.’
‘You’re being incredibly good to me,’ she said.
‘I’m known for my compassion towards rain-sodden maidens.’ He grinned. ‘Do you want to go upstairs to the flat? Have another coffee? Tea? Whatever?’
‘I’d better not have any more coffee or I’ll start walking on the ceiling,’ she said. ‘If you have stuff you need to do, please go ahead.’
‘I need to tidy up a little,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you go on up and relax?’
Steffie felt slightly awkward about being in Liam’s flat alone, but she realised that he had things to do and that she’d be in the way. So she nodded and left him to his own devices.
It was very difficult, she thought, to be in someone else’s home and not have a nose around. As she’d observed earlier, the living room was small and sparsely furnished, but the cardboard boxes were probably full of possessions that Liam hadn’t yet arranged around the flat. The one personal item she could see was a family photo of Liam, Michelle and their parents. Liam and Michelle were still children in the photo and it had been taken long before he’d embarked on whatever diet had seen him lose his excess weight. She picked it up and studied it. His eyes were the same, she decided, still that intense indigo blue. And his hair was as dark as ever. But otherwise he was almost unrecognisable from the boy in the photo. Steffie didn’t want to be fattist; while being slender herself, she didn’t think everyone should look the same, but there was no doubt that the weight loss suited Liam.
‘I’ve changed.’
His voice, in the doorway of the flat, startled her so much that she almost dropped the photo.
‘Sorry,’ she said as she replaced it on the shelf. ‘Sorry.’
‘Good catch,’ he said as he walked into the room. ‘Not entirely surprising, though. I remember you being pretty OK at ball games and rounders when you were younger.’
She laughed, although she was still shaking from having been caught with the photo in her hands. ‘I’d forgotten the rounders,’ she admitted. ‘I’d forgotten that you bothered to play with us.’
‘My mum insisted.’ He made a face. ‘She thought the exercise would be good for me. I was crap.’
Steffie nodded. The games had been played at Liam and Michelle’s house. Two families, both with children around the same ages, lived nearby and Mrs Kinsella had often invited them, along with Steffie, to play. Steffie couldn’t remember who organised the rounders but it was a constant feature of being at the Kinsellas’. She recalled the excitement of hitting the ball high into the air, and pelting around the garden trying to score runs. She’d covered the ground well because of her long legs, and despite her being the youngest everyone had wanted her on their team. Her desirability was in contrast to Liam, whose hand-to-eye co-ordination was awful and who pounded from post to post, often getting hit out. She hadn’t thought much about how he’d felt when the kids would shout at him to try harder, or indeed what it was like to be picked last every time.
‘You’d probably be better at it now,’ she said.
‘I doubt it,’ he told her. ‘I’m still absolutely useless at anything that requires hand–eye co-ordination. Except chopping things with a knife.’
‘All the same, you’re fitter.’
‘And you’re very polite.’ He smiled. ‘I had to get fitter. I was eating myself into an early grave. By the time I left school I wasn’t just fat, I was obese.’
‘Oh, I don’t think—’
‘I was,’ he said firmly. ‘And I was having all sorts of health problems. But in college I met with a dietician and worked out a plan. Then I started exercising.’
‘What exercise do you do?’
‘Boxing,’ he said.
‘Boxing? You? Seriously? Doesn’t that require really good co-ordination?
‘It’s not the same as rounders or cricket,’ he replied. ‘I’m surprisingly adept at it. Maybe there’s something buried in my psyche that means I like hitting people on the jaw.’
‘I hope not.’
‘Ah, no, what I do is very technical.’ He grinned. ‘Obviously you’re punching someone but it’s not as aggressive as you think.’
‘Hmm.’
‘I work out in the gym too,’ he said. ‘I have to confess I’m not great at that. I prefer the competitive thing.’
‘You weren’t one bit competitive as a kid.’
‘I hadn’t found the right thing to be competitive about.’
‘And so …’ She walked to one of the sofas and sat down. ‘You then went into a business that must be a terrible temptation to you every day.’
‘Not really.’ He sat on the sofa opposite. ‘I had a dysfunctional relationship with food but now it’s much healthier. And in the restaurant I try to make healthy taste good. It’s not that I don’t use butter or cream or anything like that, but I like to make my meals nutritionally good without going overboard on the sugary, fatty stuff.’
‘It’s obviously working if you’re winning awards,’ she said.
‘My new-found competitive nature.’
‘The French onion soup was amazing,’ she said.
‘You should try my Moroccan roast lamb. Or my Basque chicken.’
‘Perhaps sometime,’ she said.
‘Definitely.’
They sat in silence. But it was a companionable silence. And Steffie felt the most relaxed she had all day.
Chapter 26
Colette was in Aranbeg’s upstairs bathroom. She’d filled the sink and every so often she splashed water around so that anyone walking by would hear it. But she wasn
’t washing her hands. She was looking at the ring that Davey Sheehan had bought Camilla Rasmussen, and which she was currently wearing on her engagement finger.
It was a rock, no doubt about it: a large centre diamond surrounded by six smaller ones set into golden petals, so that the whole thing looked like a glittering flower. Beneath the halogen light of the bathroom cabinet it sparkled and shimmered, throwing pinpoints of colour on to the sink below. It was the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen. Far more beautiful than any of the three she’d been given herself. When she’d been younger she’d imagined what it would be like to be engaged to Davey and had visualised herself wearing the ring he’d given her; when she’d seen the one he’d planned to give Camilla nestling in the blue velvet of the box, she hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d sneaked away to the bathroom and slid it over her finger, thinking that it wasn’t a bad fit although possibly half a size too small for comfort. But it suited her. It was the perfect shape for her long fingers. She held her hand out in front of her and looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. And she felt her heart splinter. If only Davey had bought it for me, she thought. If only he’d thought I was the one who deserved such a magnificent piece of jewellery.
But it isn’t you, she told herself, even as she moved her hand so that the diamonds continued to sparkle gloriously beneath the light. It wasn’t back then, when we were kids, and it isn’t now when we’re grown-ups. It doesn’t matter that he insisted on accompanying you in looking for Steffie. He’s in love with someone else. He loves her so much he wants to marry her. He bought this magnificent ring for her. As far as he’s concerned, you’re just the sad little cousin who used to come and stay.
She sat down with a thud on the toilet seat and put her head in her hands. She knew she was being foolish but she couldn’t help herself. Her childhood crush on Davey Sheehan had always been a lot more than that as far as she was concerned. She’d fallen in love with him even though he was her cousin and, God help her, she was still in love with him. And the madness was that he didn’t know – he’d never know – how much he meant to her. That she measured every man she ever met against him and found them wanting. That because of him, she was still single. Despite the three engagement rings of her own.
A thump at the bathroom door startled her.
‘Colette? Are you in there? Are you OK?’ It was Alivia’s voice.
‘Yes, fine,’ she called. ‘Trying to make myself presentable, that’s all.’ She sniffed, stood up and looked at her wet hair. Presentable was almost impossible.
‘There’s a hairdryer in Steffie’s room if you need it,’ said Alivia through the closed door.
‘Thanks.’
‘Sure everything’s all right? You’ve been up here for ages.’
‘Yes, of course. Um – do you want to use the bathroom, Liv?’
‘No. It was just that Davey noticed you’d disappeared and he was wondering about you.’
Colette felt her heart beat faster.
‘I’m grand,’ she said.
‘OK. Well, on the basis that nobody’s going anywhere tonight, Paul is dispensing drinks and Summer – fair play to her – is mixing more cocktails. So don’t spend too long on beautifying yourself or you’ll miss out.’
‘Won’t be long,’ said Colette.
She leaned against the bathroom wall and exhaled slowly. Davey had asked about her. He cared about her. He wanted to know that she was OK. Even hearing that made her feel a million times better. But knowing it also seemed to flick a switch in her head. Davey cared because he liked her and because she was his cousin and because she’d driven around in the rain and the dark tonight. He didn’t care because he had any other feelings for her. If he had, he wouldn’t have crawled into Steffie’s half-submerged car looking for Camilla’s engagement ring. If he had, he wouldn’t have bought it for her in the first place.
I’m being very stupid, thought Colette. I’ve been very stupid for years.
She looked in the bathroom mirror again. She held her hand against her face so that she could see the ring on her finger one more time. It was pointless comparing it to any of hers. It outshone them by a considerable distance. Perhaps if any of her ex-fiancés had given her a ring like this, she might have stuck with them. And then she reminded herself that she wasn’t as shallow as all that, that she’d honestly thought she loved each of them while deep down knowing that her heart was bound to someone else. But his heart … she looked at the ring again … his heart was taken and it was time she accepted that fact.
You’re such a fool, she told herself as she began to remove the ring from her finger. And it’s as well that nobody knows it. She twisted the ring to get it over her knuckle. It wouldn’t move. She pulled it a little more but it remained stuck. She told herself to be calm, that she’d got it on to her finger and she could get it off again. But she couldn’t. It didn’t want to budge.
‘Don’t panic, don’t panic,’ she hissed to herself as she pumped soap from the dispenser and rubbed it around the ring. ‘All you need is to take it easy and then it’ll come off. No problem. No bother.’
She inhaled and exhaled slowly and rhythmically. Then she gently tugged the ring.
It was still completely and utterly stuck.
‘There you go.’ Paul handed Roisin the last of Summer’s cosmopolitans.
‘Thanks.’ Roisin took the drink even though she hadn’t officially lifted the cocktail ban from earlier. But it was too late now. The party had spiralled completely out of her control and cocktails were the least of her worries.
‘What are you thinking about?’ asked Paul as he came around from behind the table to join her.
‘Where we’re all going to sleep, of course,’ she replied. ‘None of these people are meant to be here – least of all her!’ She glanced at Summer, who’d also abandoned the table and was sitting on the sofa beside Carl.
‘Give the girl a break and chill out with your cosmopolitan.’ Paul nodded at the glass in her hand.
Roisin began to speak but then changed her mind and took a sip of the drink.
‘Not bad,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘In fact, it’s pretty good.’
‘She works in a bar,’ Paul said. ‘So she knows what she’s doing.’
‘I thought she said she was a model.’
‘That’s more aspirational than actual,’ said Paul. ‘She mostly does corporate events – you know, the kind where they need an attractive young girl to hand over an award or a prize. It’s not exactly London Fashion Week or whatever, is it?’
‘I don’t know what’s worse. Wannabe model or actual cocktail waitress.’
‘It’s time to lose the chip on your shoulder about her, Roisin.’ Paul looked at his wife with exasperation. ‘She’s a nice girl and being a cocktail waitress is as good a job as any.’
‘I suppose you fancy her.’
‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’
‘She’s young and fun and makes a mean cocktail.’ Roisin sipped again. ‘What’s not to love?’
‘Her cocktail skills are second to none,’ agreed Paul. ‘But she’s not my type, Rosie. You know that.’
‘Do I?’
‘Of course you do. But I’m flattered that you might have been even the teeniest bit jealous.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘You were!’
‘Oh, shut up.’ But she suddenly smiled at him. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help seeing her as a future contestant on some kind of reality show. And you know how I feel about them.’
‘Just as well she isn’t part of one today,’ Paul said. ‘Mind you, the ratings would’ve gone through the roof.’
Roisin shuddered and allowed her gaze to flicker around the room. ‘I can’t believe all this has happened. And I still have to find somewhere to put everyone. Given that Steffie is gone for the night, I was thinking that maybe Sarah and Lucinda could share her room and I could move the girls into ours, along with Dougie. Davey and Camilla should take hi
s room, I suppose. But where does that leave Carl? And Summer? And what about Alivia and Colette? Bernice too? We don’t have room for everyone.’
‘None of them particularly look like they’re ready for bed,’ said Paul. ‘They’ll be fine, Roisin.’
‘Fine now,’ she said. ‘But later, when everyone’s tired, they’ll need somewhere to sleep. I have to work it out.’
‘There are plenty of sofas.’
‘You can’t ask people to sleep on sofas.’
‘There isn’t much of a choice.’
Roisin sighed. ‘After all the trouble I went to,’ she said, ‘this has been the most disastrous night of my life.’
‘Ah, they’ll get over it,’ said Paul.
‘You’re not denying it’s a disaster,’ she said.
‘As a celebratory party it is,’ he agreed. ‘But as an exciting night out – you couldn’t have done any better if you’d tried.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘It’s not just the party that’s disastrous. It’s everything to do with Mum and Dad. And Steffie.’ Her voice wobbled.
‘You’ve a right to be upset,’ agreed Paul. ‘Especially after all the effort you put in.’
‘I wanted it to be perfect.’
‘I know. And it’s not at all your fault that things turned out the way they did. You’re a great organiser, Ro.’
‘Thank you.’ She looked up at him. ‘I’m sorry if I get snappy sometimes. Especially that I always seem to get snappy with you. It’s just …’
‘You’re a perfectionist,’ he said. ‘I knew that when I married you. I like that you want everything to be just so. And even if you go over the top a bit sometimes, we’d be lost without you.’
‘Truthfully?’
‘Of course,’ said Paul. ‘You’re the one that keeps it all together. And even if today didn’t work out the way you expected, you all had to know about Pascal and Jenny sooner or later.’
‘You realise Mum lied to me too, don’t you?’ she asked.
‘I thought the whole thing was that she lied to everyone?’
‘Yes, but she always let me think that she and Dad got married because of me,’ said Roisin. ‘They didn’t. They didn’t think I was worth getting married for.’
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