“No, Oliver! Because of everything I’d been through in New York!” I shook my head in frustration. “I had a right to know that it was happening again!”
“It wasn’t happening again. He treated you like shit – I was trying to protect you.”
“Well, you failed,” I said sadly.
“How?”
“How? Are you insane? You have a girlfriend!”
“But I don’t want her, I want you!”
“Oh Oliver, please! You’ve had months to break up with her. Months. And you want another month? What do you take me for? In a few hours I’ll be on a plane out of Dublin, and before it lands you’ll have forgotten all about me. I’ve been in this situation before, remember?”
“Stop!” he said, causing several people in our vicinity to look over again. “Stop,” he repeated, this time more quietly. “I am not Cain Hobson.”
I could feel the tears start to well up behind my eyes.
“Don’t say his name,” I managed hoarsely. “It isn’t fair.”
“Oh, for God’s sake – this is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I’ve made a massive mess of the whole thing. But how many times do I have to say I’m sorry? You have to realise, I have never felt like this about anyone. And, after everything, I can’t understand how you would even doubt that.”
I tried to remember my speech, but none of it seemed relevant anymore.
“I thought you were both laughing at me. I thought . . .” I shook my head as I remembered how humiliated I’d felt, “I thought that this was why she was getting rid of me.”
“No,” he said vehemently, “absolutely not. I couldn’t believe it when she told me she was sending you away – that’s why I rang you straight away to try to warn you –”He stopped suddenly.
I almost laughed. “Oh my God! When you rang me – you were in Galway with her, weren’t you? Bloody hell, this just gets worse and worse.”
“We were at her cousin’s wedding. I couldn’t get out of it.”
“Stop! I don’t want to hear any more.”
“Right. Fine. You’re right. Just go then.” He sat back in his chair abruptly.
I looked at him, stunned at his change in demeanour.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I mean it. Just go. I’m not sure how into this you were anyway.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you didn’t do a whole lot to stop yourself getting sent home, did you? Maybe that’s what you wanted? Easy way out for you.”
I stared at him, almost expecting him to smile and say “Only kidding” but one look at his face told me that wasn’t going to happen.
“How could you say that? You think I wanted to be sent home? To leave you?”
“Well, can you blame me? I warned you, over and over again, that you were pissing her off, but you wouldn’t listen. You knew best. Well, you have what you wanted now. Pity, I really thought we had something.”
“We did have something! I mean –” I stopped. “You’re not being fair, Oliver, you know you’re not.”
“I’ll tell you what’s not fair, Holly,” he said, leaning forward, his tone low and quiet. “I’ve put my job on the line for you time and time again during the last few months. And this is how I’m repaid. She might have got rid of you, but she’s not going to forget any time soon the way I’ve defended you. And where will you be? Out of the firing line, back in New York with your ex-boyfriend, up to God knows what.” He sighed. “That’s why I think you’re right. It won’t work. You’ll be there, I’ll be here. It’s best just to say goodbye now.”
He stood up as if to go.
“Wait!” I shrieked.
My head was spinning. This was a turn that I hadn’t expected the conversation to take. Luckily he sat back down before I had to decide whether to run after him or not.
“I can’t believe you’re making out this is all my fault?” I said.
“Well, you having to go back definitely isn’t mine!”
“And if I wasn’t going back?” I whispered.
“Well, you are, so I guess we’ll never know now, will we?”
“But – Catherine . . .” I grappled frantically to remember why we were having this conversation.
“Catherine has nothing to do with this!” He was getting really annoyed. “It was under control. We haven’t been getting on for months – she knows there’s something up. When it came to telling her that I was going to apply for a full-time transfer, it would have come to a natural end and I’d have left with you.”
“Then come with me now.” I looked at him, beseeching him to say yes.
“Oh yes,” he said, sarcasm oozing from every word, “that’s a great idea. I’m possibly four weeks from being promoted to senior manager but I’ll hand in my notice. Leave with someone they’ve just sent away and start again from the bottom in a strange country, with a bad reference – if any – and the stigma of a sleazy office affair hanging over me. Great idea, Holly. Brilliant. Having said that, I notice you haven’t offered to stay yourself.”
“And live where?” Despite my distress I couldn’t keep the incredulity from my voice. “I can hardly move in with you now, can I? What would you like me to do? Move home with my mother? Take a job in Tesco’s?”
“Well, there you go. It’s all just one big mess. But just so you know, everything was fine, Holly, until you lost the run of yourself with Baron. You can’t deny that. Your fault, not mine.”
I felt like he’d slapped me in the face.
“You know that I was right about Baron,” I hissed, “and I’m sorry that you think I should have licked his arse like you did, but at least I’ve got some principles.”
“Oh, woopty-do for you, Holly, but at what cost?”
There was no point in answering that.
“Sowhat do we do then?” I asked.
He shrugged and my heart plummeted in my chest at the look in his eyes.
“Look,” he said then, “I need to head back.” He looked me straight in the eye. “I guess it’s up to you now, isn’t it? You need to decide if what we had, what we could have, is worth fighting for. Call me sometime and let me know.” He stood up and moved his chair back before turning and saying with a bitterness I’d never heard from him before: “Enjoy your flight.”
And with that he was gone. I watched him wend his way through the tables but he never looked back.
Not once.
I sat, frozen in shock and disbelief.
Just as the tears of self-pity started to form at the back of my eyes, I was flung forward with a jolt. I looked up as a tall man shoved his way past me, towards Oliver’s seat.
“Thank God – I thought he’d never go.”
With a start I realised it was the surfer dude with the laptop bags again.
“I beg your pardon?” I scrabbled to regain some composure, wondering exactly how much this annoying, though strangely pleasant, guy had seen.
“Ah come on, you don’t mind if I join you? I just can’t wait any longer for a table. If I don’t get a bite to eat soon, I won’t be able to open these goddamn computers let alone carry them.”
He was already seated, tucking his bags under the table with the ease of someone who was obviously used to such a level of luggage. He held out his hand.
“Harry Fielding, Freelance Programmer to the stars! Your pal left in a bit of a hurry, didn’t he? Not that I’m complaining, but I suppose it’d be manners to ask if you think he’s coming back?”
I shook his outstretched hand. “Holly Green, accountant and auditor. And no, he’s not coming back.”
“Great, I’m starving – do you mind?”
He gestured towards Oliver’s untouched club sandwich. I shook my head, watching, silent with disbelief, as he started to tuck in, all the time chatting away, oblivious to my horror.
This day was starting to resemble a very, very bad dream.
Your fault, Holly, not mine.
“So
, anyway, as I was saying –” The computer guy cleared his throat with mock vigour.
“Sorry?” I dragged myself back to reality.
“Had a bit of a row, did ye?”
“What makes you say that?”
He winked. “Ah, he didn’t look the Mae West as he rushed past me, if you know what I mean.”
I grunted.
“Ah, don’t worry, you’ll sort it out.” He took another huge bite of sandwich.
“Not from New York, I won’t,” I answered, half to myself.
“New York?”
“It’s where I’m heading,” I said, looking at my watch, “in about four hours.”
“Bummer.”
Yes, bummer.
Just then his phone rang. After searching in four different pockets he eventually tracked it down and answered it, waving his hand apologetically to me.
He needn’t have worried. I was glad of some time to get my head around what had just happened with Oliver.
I couldn’t believe he’d been so angry with me, that he’d gone from begging me for forgiveness to washing his hands of me in just a few short minutes.
And I really, really couldn’t believe that in just four hours I’d be on a flight back to the States. All of a sudden the reality of what was waiting for me back in the New York office hit me right between the eyes. It had taken a month for the transfer to Ireland to come through. A month of me pretending that I didn’t care if the entire building thought I was the office bike. And of course Cain had arrived back for the final two weeks. I wish I could say I’d been professional about his return but I’d ignored him. Of the two options available to me, at least I couldn’t go to jail for ignoring him.
I toyed with the idea of ringing Oliver but I knew there was no point. There was nothing new to say. He was right: I’d be in New York, and he’d be here. It was a fucking disaster and I couldn’t help wondering whether he was right – if things would have worked out fine if I hadn’t got myself sent home.
Now hang on! He’s the one that had the affair.
I’m well aware of that, I answered myself back sharply, but it doesn’t appear to be as simple as that.
Of course it is.
Oh bugger off! I can’t think!
There’s nothing to think about. Chalk it up. It’s over.
If only I had more time.
“Hello?”
I looked up. My new companion had finished his phone call and was looking at me curiously. I hoped I hadn’t been arguing with myself aloud.
“Sorry. I was miles away.”
“So I see. Sorry for the interruption. It was my bloody brother, though why he’s ringing me with his problems is anyone’s guess.”
“Problems?” I asked, glad to hear that someone other than me had some.
“Oh, another one of his bloody nannies has resigned. Wants me to put an ad up on the web – oh yes, he believes in the Internet when it suits him. I should issue a warning with it – I mean, anyone taking a live-in job with him deserves a warning.”
I laughed at the look on his face and then stopped asthe germ of an idea started to grow in the recesses of my brain.
Oh God. What if . . .
“Live in, you say?”
No, Holly. Absolutely no FUCKING way.
“Oh yes, it would have to be with the hours he works –sure he’s hardly ever there.”
“Where is he based?” I asked casually.
It doesn’t matter!
“Duncane, a small village just outside Naas, an hour from here, I suppose. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” I looked down.
It wasn’t the worst idea I’d ever had. I mean, there was that week I’d helped Auntie Monica mind Marsha’s twins while she was in California and I couldn’t remember it being that taxing . . .
Yes, it was. You lasted two days and then practically went AWOL for the remainder of the week.
“Well, you’re clearly not asking for yourself as you’re an accountant,” he said, smiling.
I didn’t answer.
“Oh my God, you are asking for you, aren’t you?” His eyes were wide in surprise.
“Oh, please don’t tell him. That’s all I need – the ‘Oh, you’re overqualified’ excuse. The thing is, I used to be a nanny.” The lie was out before I could stop it but I was too busy trying to remember how bad those two days had actually been. I mean, I was older now – surely that made a difference?
“Really?”
“Oh yes, for my sister and she has twins! Quite liked it actually.”
The speed with which the lies were leaving my lips surprised even me. But seriously – how hard could it be? I mean no one gave Marsha any training prior to letting her loose on two tiny newborns . . .
“Can’t imagine it, to be honest. Anyhow, go back to the drawing board,” he said firmly. “Believe me, being an unemployed accountant is a far better idea than being a nanny for my brother.”
Before I knew what I was doing I’d grabbed his hand.
“Harry. I need a job. I need somewhere to live. Just give me the number. He’s hardly an axe-murderer, now is he?”
“Well, that’s the thing!” He winked at me again. “He’s not – but how do I know you aren’t?”
I dropped his hand quickly. “I hate the sight of blood. And anyway, surely they’ll have to interview me? Your involvement is over once you give me the number . . .” I looked at him coyly, resisting the temptation to bat my eyelashes, wary of appearing too psychotic.
“There is no ‘they’. His wife died about eight months ago, though to be fair,” he sighed, “she’d probably have left him in time anyway.”
“That’s an awful thing to say.”
“No, it’s not. Not about him. He’s a grumpy, analworkaholic. I couldn’t allow you to go near him.”
“Well, I’m not exactly a barrel of laughs myself at the moment.” I tried again. “Look, it’s just to tide me over, for a few weeks, a couple of months, Harry.”
He started to speak and I could hazard a guess that everything he was saying was an attempt to dissuade me from this maniacscheme.But I wasn’t listening to him.All I could hear was Oliver’s voice: “You need to decide if what we had, what we could have, is worth fighting for . . .”
I could stay. Let Oliver stew for a few days. I wasn’t altogether convinced that this whole mess was my fault, but this way I’d have time to find out, give him a chance to put his money where his mouth was. Who’s to say that we couldn’t still return together as planned for Christmas? I’d have to make up some excuse for the New York office, but I’d worry about that later. At this stage I had nothing to lose . . .
“The number, Harry, please!” I interrupted.
He opened his mouth to object then shut it again.
“Okay, if you insist, but when this all ends in tears . . .”
“I’ll only have myself to blame,” I finished, swiftly handing him a pen and a napkin.
Sighing, he gave in and started to write out the number. I knew I should tell him to stop, that I should just get up, get out of there and get myself on that plane.
But before I could stop myself, I took the hastily scrawled number with trembling fingers.
This is total madness.
But it would buy me time.
And at that exact moment, that was all I wanted.
Chapter 8
It had taken a while to summon up the courage to dial Mark Fielding’s number. And then, after the numbers were punched in, it took every ounce of my determination not to hang up when I heard the ringtone. Instead I’d clenched my teeth and run through my rehearsed opening sentence over and over . . .
I needn’t have bothered. The phone rang out. Against my better judgement, I left a voicemail stating that I’d heard he was looking for a nanny and I was interested in the position, and left my number.
And then I’d hung up. And started to reason with myself.
There was still enough time to make my flight.
<
br /> So if he didn’t call back I was going to be on that plane.
He had twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes or I’d never see Oliver again.
It would be like the last six months had never happened, hardly the triumphant return I’d been dreaming about.
I looked at my luggage, a large but tidy pile of assorted cases and cartons stacked neatly at the door. I still had a few things to tidy up but the anger that had fuelled my earlier packing had dissipated and now I just couldn’t be bothered.
So everything just sat there in limbo. A bit like me.
No home to go to.
Well, not for much longer. I had to leave the apartment in ten minutes. If I was staying I’d have to find a hotel, if I wasn’t then I was airport bound.
Ten minutes.
I should have been relieved that the decision was being taken out of my hands. But instead, I just felt bitterly disappointed.
I’d got used to the idea of staying.
Okay, so it was at best too good to be true, and at worst a ridiculous harebrained scheme but at least I’d have known . . .
And it might have worked.
Two minutes.
I had a brainwave. I’d ring Kelly. She’d know exactly what I should do. Kelly was good with affairs of the heart. She’d probably tell me to get on the first train to Sligo which, when I thought about it, mightn’t be too bad an idea. I dialled her number but from the dial tone it was obvious she was out of the country. I flung the phone across the room in frustration.
And then it rang. I dashed across the room to retrieve it but the number didn’t look familiar. My hopes crashing around my ears, I answered it.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is that Holly Green?” It was a pleasant-sounding young female voice.
“Yes.” I tried not to sound annoyed but I really hadn’t time for random conversations with strangers.
“This is Tara Harper of Raven’s Hill Veterinary Clinic. I’m phoning for Mark Fielding.”
Holy shit!
I dropped the phone with shock.
“Miss Green, are you there?”
I could hear the voice as I grappled to retrieve the phone.
“Yes!” I called hastily. “Yes, I am.”
Between You and Me Page 6
