‘Oh God!’
‘Got to feed a broken heart. You know Mum. She’ll fuss and feed you and force you to get back on your feet. The thing is I’ll probably end up doing the same with Evie when she gets dumped by some awful boy.’
Grace found herself actually laughing. ‘That’s scary.’
‘You’re going to be OK, honest,’ Sarah reassured her, serious again. ‘Listen, I’d better go down before Evie has Mum demented with the whole house measured.’
The smell of onions and the meaty stew wafted up the stairs. Grace had forgotten how hungry she was. Maybe she would get up and have dinner with the others. She checked her phone; all day long she’d been getting missed calls and texts from her friends. There was absolutely nothing from Shane. Deciding that he was no longer relevant in her life she deleted his number from her address book. But her hand had hovered over the number before she had firmly pressed the delete button.
Anna had called over after work armed with a giant bottle of Lucozade and a big bag of wine gums, Grace’s childhood favourites, and insisted she give a blow-by-blow account of the disastrous dinner.
‘Salmon cakes, pork with Calvados, cake!’ Anna muttered fiercely. ‘What a waste!’
When Grace got to the part where she had hurled the stone lizard off the balcony into the water, she suddenly found herself laughing out loud at the absurdity of it as her mother and sisters tried to control their own giggles.
‘You should have thrown Shane in the bloody river!’ teased Anna, her blue eyes blazing.
Sitting around the kitchen table later with Mum, Sarah, Evie and Anna, eating floury potatoes and plates of her mother’s warming stew with its soft chunks of vegetables and rich sauce made her realize that even though one part of her life was a total screw-up her family were the best . . . the very, very best!
Chapter Seventeen
There was only so much comfort a body could take and after another two days of the Ryan family flapping around her like protective bodyguards and, eating her way through a constant round of homemade bread, scones, apple tart and sponge cake, Grace decided it was time to move back to her apartment and get back to work.
She cleared the remnants of the celebration meal into the bin, along with Shane’s favourite cheese and the full-fat milk that he liked to have in his coffee as she cleaned the place. She’d return Shane’s gift to the jewellers, and, doing a quick sweep of the apartment, bundled his two Quentin Tarantino DVDs, a bottle of Hugo Boss aftershave, a toothbrush, comb and a navy golf shirt into a carrier bag. She was tempted to donate them to charity but decided to hand them in at the office’s reception desk instead. Niamh O’Halloran, one of her best friends, had sent her a succinct text: F . . . him before arriving at eight o’clock with Lisa, Claire and Roisin, some of her old school pals, to cheer her up. She knew the girls were trying to be supportive in her hour of need but she just wanted to get back to work, even if it meant meeting him.
Picking out her most expensive suit, a pair of Italian boots that she had bought in Milan and a classic white Quin and Donnelly shirt, she dressed quickly the next morning, determined to be in the office early, sitting at her drawing board long before Shane appeared.
Thornton’s was housed in one of the most modern and iconic buildings in the city, built overlooking the docks, its ten-storey steel and glass corner structure catching the sunlight. Her office was on the fifth floor and she passed the giant sculpture of a bronze fish leaping from the water that stood in the atrium as she rode the glass lift to her floor.
The office was quiet, with only the hum of cleaners hoovering the top-floor offices as she sat at her desk. Grace’s heart sank as she saw the backlog of emails on her computer and she began to trawl through them. Kate Connolly, her secretary, had left a pile of post on her desk with the most urgent letters on top alongside a list of phone messages. It would take her at least a day to get through this and she had the Carroll project to be getting along with. Ray Carroll was due in the office tomorrow afternoon and one thing the property magnate did not take kindly to was delays or poor presentation of work. If need be she would work all night on it. She slipped off the black jacket of her suit and began to quickly read through the emails. It was good to work like this without interruption before the rest of the staff came in. She heard Ali Delaney pass down the hall. They nodded at each other through the glass partition.
‘Feeling better?’ Ali called politely.
‘Yes, thanks.’ Grace was tempted to confide in the other woman about her predicament with Shane but she wasn’t sure how much office gossip she had been privy to. Ali was the office manager. She lived down in Kildare and made a point of coming in early every day and leaving at four p.m. It was the only way she got the time to spend with her family of three boys. Instead she returned to her screen as Ali made her way to the office at the end of the corridor.
An hour later the building began to buzz. She could see the queues of traffic all over the city as her work colleagues began to arrive, phones ringing, copiers and faxes growling into action. She wondered if Shane was actually in the building. How was she to handle it? Ignore him? Pretend their love affair had never happened? She was totally at a loss as to what she should do.
Kate arrived in at eight fifty a.m., she got the Dart to work every day and was as punctual and reliable as they came.
‘Morning, Grace, it’s nice to have you back. I left a list of calls and letters you need to deal with on the desk.’
‘I found them, thanks. Any word from Ray Carroll?’ Grace asked in the vague hope he might have rescheduled their appointment.
‘Suzie from his office phoned on Friday so it’s still on track for tomorrow.’
‘Good.’
Grace realized there would be no reprieve and she began to pull out the file for tomorrow’s meeting. The preliminary drawings she’d worked on looked good but knowing him he would want far more detail.
‘Kate, can you hold all calls unless they are really urgent as I have to get this done for tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘No problem, if you need anything let me know.’
Grace worked all morning, skipping the usual visit to the top-floor canteen for a coffee break. She kept an eye out to see if there was any sign of Shane, but was relieved that he seemed to be nowhere about. At lunchtime she was busy drafting a new design for the three-bedroomed apartments Ray Carroll was so keen on.
‘There’s got to be space for a family,’ he always insisted, ‘and toys and books and clothes. We’re building for real people.’
Grace pored over the drawings again to see if there was any way she could fit in more storage space without losing the airy feel of the apartment. The corridors outside were wide and very spacious but would people prefer to have that extra space within the apartment? She touched the drawings on the computer screen wondering if she could try an alternative. Kate had got her a turkey and cranberry roll and coffee from the canteen which she munched on as she printed out the new versions. She was so engrossed she barely heard the door open.
‘Grace.’
Shane. He was standing there wearing the grey pinstripe suit she’d picked out with him a few months ago in London.
‘How are you?’ he asked, closing the door behind him.
If he hoped she was going to collapse in a heap and beg him to come back he was mistaken. She was determined to remain composed and calm in front of him.
‘I’m fine,’ she lied.
It was unbearably awkward between them and she didn’t know how it could possibly be resolved.
‘I’m sorry, Grace.’ He did have the grace to look genuinely shamefaced. ‘It was never my intention to hurt you. You must know that. Ruth and I had gone our separate ways and had no plans ever to see each other again. It just happened!’
‘Shane, I’m really busy,’ she said firmly for she’d absolutely no intention of getting involved in a discussion about the end of their relationship here in her office with a client or staff member
liable to walk in. ‘I’ve Ray Carroll in tomorrow and I have a ton of work to do and—’
‘I just wanted to check that you’re OK.’
‘Well, you did,’ she snapped. ‘And I am. I have not disappeared down a hole no matter how much you might have wished it.’
He looked pained and uncomfortable.
‘Do people in the office know we’ve broken up?’
‘A few do. I told Derek and Paul, and Ruth and I ran into Louise and Gavin when we were in Fitzers on Sunday.’
‘So basically the fact that we are no longer an item is pretty much common knowledge!’
‘Yes,’ he said tersely. ‘I’d guess most people know by now.’
The silence between them hung heavy.
‘Grace, I’d like us still to be friends . . .’ he began. ‘We work together and—’
‘I don’t need two-timing fecking friends who do the dirt on people,’ Grace replied angrily. ‘Working together is fine but otherwise please just leave me alone!’
Shane looked relieved and simply nodded and quit her office.
‘Good riddance,’ she mumbled under her breath.
‘Mr Smooth gone?’ Kate buzzed a few seconds later.
Grace was surprised that her secretary had the nerve to call him that to her face. ‘Yep.’
‘Ray Carroll is on line one for you.’
‘Shit,’ she responded before taking the call, realizing that her hands were still shaking.
‘Good afternoon, Grace, how are you?’
She took a deep breath and managed to seem poised and in control again as she assured her client that all was set for the next day. ‘I won’t let you down,’ she promised. ‘The new designs are looking exciting.’
Grace sat back in the leather chair a few minutes later. She still had to perform, do the job that she was trained for and be a professional. The adrenalin rush she got from seeing a job like this come together was what had made her become an architect, studying for six years and breaking her guts to work in a firm like this. Breaking up with Shane had nothing to do with it. She could let this situation with him reduce her to an emotional mess unable to complete her projects or she could pull herself together and lose herself in her work. The latter seemed a much better option and she decided to concentrate on the job in hand. Getting involved with Shane O’Sullivan had been a huge mistake, and was one she would definitely not repeat. She was through with men! Hell would freeze over before her mother would see her on some man’s arm walking down the aisle. Forget marriage and romance. From now on Grace was focusing all her energy on her career.
Chapter Eighteen
Sarah Ryan studied the screen of her computer. She was online checking the balance in her meagre bank account, dismayed by the usual lack of funds. Clicking the mouse she went on to her emails, sending a funny few words to a few of her friends who were ensconced in offices around the city. Truth was, she was bored and, checking the clock on the wall, she saw she’d another hour before she had to collect Evie from school. They’d go to the butcher’s and the local grocer’s and then grab a DVD of Evie’s favourite programme Angelina Ballerina on their way home.
Next year if she had found some magic way of improving their finances she hoped to send Evie to dancing class, where she could pirouette and hop and skip with all the other little girls who were equally mad on ballet. Her mum and Grace had both very generously offered to pay the weekly dance class fees for her daughter but she had turned them down flat.
‘Evie’s still a bit young,’ she’d fibbed, unwilling to accept one more jot of charity from her over-generous family.
‘Don’t be so stubborn,’ Grace had chided. ‘Mum, do you remember how mad we all were for dancing classes? Do you remember when we used to go to Miss Hickey’s and she made us pretend that we were flowers and swans?’
‘I’ll think about it,’ Sarah had fobbed them off, determined to find some way of creating extra income of her own. She wanted to be able to provide for Evie herself, give her the same standard of living that she’d enjoyed growing up.
She had her job in Evie’s school, St Bridget’s, where she worked three mornings a week teaching art and helping in the library, her part-time work with Cora’s catering company and the odd bit of graphic design work she managed to pick up. This income combined with the single parent’s allowance and the very odd bit of money she received from Maurizio helped her to provide for her child. It was a struggle and like most single parents who didn’t work full-time she was almost constantly broke. If she weren’t living rent-free in the basement of her family home she didn’t know how she would survive.
With time to spare she opened her ‘Mitten’ file. Mitten had started life as a squiggly drawing of a cat that she had done on a sketch pad for Evie. Mitten was a very bold little cat, who got into all kinds of scrapes and mischief and drove her owner Miss Bee mad. A weekly evening course in computers had helped her convert the bold black cat from the page in her sketchbook to a section of his own on her computer and she enjoyed adding to his antics whenever she got the chance. It was a silly childish thing to be doing when she should be ironing or hoovering or cleaning the bedroom but she couldn’t help herself whenever the tip of that little black tail and ears appeared on the screen.
‘Oh God!’ Now she’d forgotten the time and was late to collect her child. Hitting the save button she grabbed her denim jacket and bag and raced out the door. If she ran all the way she might only be a few minutes late. She ran as fast as she could in the rain, head down as mothers with children by the hand and buggies and prams walked towards her. Out of breath and panting she got to the door of the school where Florence Roche, Evie’s teacher, was waiting expectantly for her.
‘Hi, Mummy,’ announced her angel, coming over and taking her hand.
‘Everything OK?’ asked the senior infants’ teacher.
‘Yes, yes, fine,’ she explained, ‘just caught up with a work thing.’
Sarah could see that Evie was about to ask what this work thing was and began to edge her towards the door.
‘Sorry,’ she apologized, but could see Florence had already forgotten and was picking up her large blue denim bag, which was filled with copybooks and papers.
‘No rest for the wicked,’ the teacher laughed.
Sarah paused, looking around the gaily decorated walls covered with paintings and a large cut-out alphabet that the kids had made with pictures from magazines and newspapers.
D was for dog, dinosaur and daddy. Evie had pored over Sarah’s old Cosmos and Image and U magazines to find the perfect picture of what she thought a dad should look like. Sarah had resisted the urge to influence her as she contemplated George Clooney and Brad Pitt and Homer Simpson, saying nothing when she had cut out a tall curly-haired dark-eyed male model who was holding a dog from a cheese advertisement.
‘I think he’s a nice daddy,’ she’d said firmly as she cut him out with her plastic pink scissors and put him into her school bag.
‘Me too,’ agreed Sarah, who’d had to go to the bathroom and throw water on her eyes so her daughter couldn’t see the emotions that a stupid school task had conjured up.
‘Sarah, Evie’s alphabet picture was so sweet,’ praised Florence as they walked together out into the small paved yard. ‘And she did a lovely painting of a big green frog sitting on a green tree.’
‘It’s hiding,’ insisted Evie from under her dark eyelashes and fringe.
‘Well, you’ll have to help me find it.’ Sarah laughed.
‘See you tomorrow, Evie.’ The pretty young teacher nodded as she made her way to a silver car parked near the railings.
Sarah took her daughter’s hand as they waited for the traffic lights to change and watched the car drive away. She’d always imagined herself as a teacher or something like that, busy, occupied, with a career and money, a car of her own, a different life. Yet she wouldn’t change having Evie for the world. Her five-year-old daughter was the most precious and wonderful thin
g in her life but she just wished she was a better provider and could give her daughter everything all the other mammies and daddies could.
Stopping off in the butcher’s she purchased some minced beef. It was on special. Tonight she’d make hamburgers and fried onion and Bolognese tomorrow. Next week if she got paid she was going to buy one of their big plump free-range chickens and roast it with all the trimmings. Maybe she could invite someone over? Open a bottle of wine, be sociable instead of spending so much time alone?
‘Mummy!’ Evie tugged at her sleeve.
‘Yes, pet?’
‘There he is again.’
Sarah looked out of the shop door. That huge wolf of a dog was standing there again.
‘He’s hungry, Mummy.’
‘Evie, he just likes waiting there, hoping to get a bone.’
‘I think he’s hungry,’ Evie insisted, going over to pet him.
Sarah sighed. There wasn’t a dog in creation that didn’t attract Evie but for the moment a pet was definitely out of the question. It was bad enough having her mother help to support herself and Evie without adding the cost of an animal.
‘What about we get a DVD to watch in Xtravision then I’ll just grab what we need from Spar and head home!’
‘Bye bye, Mr Bones,’ Evie said, slipping her hand in hers. Sarah felt emotion squeeze her heart as she realized that one day her little girl would no longer automatically reach for her or need her.
The video shop was quiet and Sarah passed the rows of expensive new releases with their big stars and well-advertised features and headed for the discount children’s section where a range of Barbie, Barney and dinosaur cartoons filled the shelves. Evie, with a determined expression, searched the shelf until she found the DVD of the little mouse ballerina surrounded by her ballerina classmates.
Sarah was rooting in her handbag for her money to pay when she recognized Angus ahead of her. He was wearing a black leather jacket, his black leather boots, and a bright red knotted scarf.
The Matchmaker Page 9
