But it had taken longer than she expected, especially as six of them had decided to eat in and she’d had to prepare a meal and clear up afterwards. She didn’t mind that at all. She enjoyed looking after her guests, and besides, six for dinner was good money.
She left them sitting in the residents’ lounge after the meal, and was about to go into the sitting room when the phone rang. It was Sean.
‘Just checking in on you,’ he said.
‘Checking in on me? In what way? Making sure I haven’t run off or something?’
‘I know you’d never do that,’ he said. ‘Your heart is in the house.’
‘You’re right.’
‘Have you been thinking about me?’ he asked.
‘I never stop thinking about you.’ Her tone was dry, but he said he was glad to hear it.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she said. ‘It was a busy day today, lots of guests staying, and I have things to do.’
‘Of course it should all be looking up from here on in,’ he said. ‘The festival will bring more punters to the town. How are the preparations going for that?’
Even though she didn’t really want to spend time talking to him as though everything between them was back to normal, she told him about the exhibition, and he said that was a good idea and that he’d love to come home for it. For the whole festival, he said. He missed the Ardbawn community. He missed his life there.
‘You used to say we were in a backwater,’ she told him.
‘But our backwater,’ he said, and despite herself, she felt her heart warm towards him. They’d shared so much, she thought. They’d come through bad times before. Perhaps she should give him another chance.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Come for the festival. Stay here. We’ll talk then.’
‘You mean it?’
‘I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.’
‘That’s wonderful.’
‘How’s the recording for the new show you’re doing coming along?’
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Fun. Different to Chandler’s Park, though.’
‘How long are you going to be in the coma for?’
‘God knows,’ he said. ‘Hard to tell. They’re trying to save money on the production at the moment. Have you noticed that all the scenes are just the main characters, people who’re still in contract? There aren’t any extras.’
She hadn’t noticed because she hadn’t been watching. But she didn’t tell him that.
‘I can’t wait to see you,’ he told her.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing you too.’
Which was sort of true. She wished she didn’t feel so damn conflicted where Sean was concerned. She sat down at the kitchen table and stared into space. It was important to get it right this time, she thought. She was older now. She couldn’t afford to make any wrong choices.
It was late by the time she abandoned the kitchen and went into the sitting room, bringing a glass of wine with her. She pulled up a chair and picked up the photos that Sheridan had chosen. The reporter was right, Nina thought. She had an excellent eye for a shot, and each picture that she’d put in the pile was, in some way, quirky or clever or evocative of time and place. Nina knew some of the people in the black-and-white photos because they’d been friends of Dolores or John. But many of them were strangers to her, and she wondered about them as she gazed at their faces with their fixed expressions or camera-ready smiles. She wondered if she knew their sons or their daughters, if they were still living in Ardbawn or if they’d moved on.
It’s all so transient, she thought as she studied a photo of an elderly woman standing outside what had once been Meagher’s Bakery but was now the Centra. In fifty years, sixty, would someone see a photograph of her and wonder who she was and what her life had been like? Or would they simply look on the internet and see that she was the ex-wife of Sean Fallon, the heart-throb actor, who’d left her for an actress called Lulu Adams? Or – the thought made her smile very faintly – would they say that he was the heart-throb actor who’d been thrown out of his home by his ex-wife?
Suddenly her eyes narrowed. She looked at one of the boxes, its lid slightly askew, and she swallowed hard. She hadn’t meant to put that box out. It must have been because she’d been looking through it before. It was the personal box, filled with family photos, the children’s school reports, silly tokens from Christmas crackers that she’d kept to remind her of fun times, communion and confirmation medals . . . and everything else. Her heart thudded faster as she thought of what it contained. She opened the box. The envelope was sitting on the top. And it was empty.
There was an oblong of orange light coming from the window of Sheridan’s studio. Even though it was now very late, Nina pulled on a cardigan and walked towards it, trying not to make too much noise on the gravel. But when she got there, she realised that Sheridan’s Beetle wasn’t outside. She didn’t know who the silver convertible belonged to.
She stood hesitantly beside the front door, unable to hear any sounds from within, and uncertain of her next move. As the light was on, she assumed that there was someone inside. If she rapped at the door and a stranger answered it, what on earth would she say? I’ll ask them what the hell they’re doing in the studio, she told herself firmly. Because only Sheridan Gray should be there.
She took a deep breath. She couldn’t stand here all night dithering. She had to act. She formed her hand into a fist and rapped loudly on the door.
Sheridan jumped in fright when she heard the knock. She came out of the bathroom and stood in the centre of the studio. Joe had already pulled on his jeans and jumper.
‘It must be Nina,’ said Sheridan. ‘Though why she’s here this late . . . Something must be wrong.’
‘I’ll open it,’ Joe said.
‘Not till I put on some more clothes.’ Sheridan grabbed a pair of tracksuit bottoms to cover her naked behind and wriggled into them.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘You can go ahead now.’
Nina blinked in the light spilling out from the open door, then blinked again in surprise at seeing Joe O’Malley standing there. When Sheridan had told her that she was meeting Paudie’s son for dinner she’d been shocked, but she’d never for a moment expected that he’d come back to the studio with her.
‘Is everything all right, Nina?’ asked Joe.
She stared at him wordlessly.
‘Has something happened at the house? Do you want me to check it out for you?’
She still couldn’t speak.
‘Are you all right yourself? Do you need help?’
‘Hi, Nina.’ Sheridan appeared behind Joe. Her expression was one of acute embarrassment. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No. No.’ This was turning into an even worse nightmare than she’d thought. Nina had come to accuse Sheridan of taking something that didn’t belong to her. But if she started hurling allegations around now, she’d seem like a deranged, narrow-minded countrywoman throwing a strop because two grown adults were having sex in the studio. Even if they were the two unlikeliest candidates for getting it together that she could’ve imagined.
‘Come in,’ said Joe.
Nina stepped over Sheridan’s carelessly abandoned shoes as she walked inside. Sheridan scooped them up and threw them into the wardrobe.
‘Would you like tea?’ she asked.
‘I’m not here for tea,’ said Nina.
‘Is there a problem?’ Sheridan’s voice was anxious. ‘It’s OK for Joe to be here, isn’t it? You said I could have people to stay.’ Actually, Sheridan realised, Nina had told her to let her know if she was going to have guests so that she could make up the sofa bed. She hadn’t mentioned anything about bringing men back to the studio for mind-blowing sex.
Nina brushed her hand through her hair as she wrestled with what she wanted to say.
‘What’s the matter, Nina?’ asked Joe. His voice was calm and measured. ‘Is it something to do with you or with us?’
The way he said �
�us’ startled Nina. As though he and Sheridan were more than just people having casual sex. As though there was more to their relationship than that. But there couldn’t be. He was Paudie’s son. Sheridan hated Paudie. She wouldn’t have anything to do with his family.
Oh my God, she thought suddenly, had Sheridan had a grand plan when she’d come to Ardbawn? Get close to Paudie’s son? Find out about the past? Put together an exposé of things that were better forgotten?
I thought I knew her. I thought I liked her. But she’s way more devious than I could ever have imagined.
Despite Nina’s comment that she wasn’t there for tea, Sheridan had boiled a kettle of water and was making some anyway. She couldn’t believe that the older woman was getting into a state about Joe being in the studio. How had she found out about it anyway? Had someone from the town seen Sheridan getting into Joe’s car? Had they phoned Nina to say so? Was Ardbawn far more of a backwater than she’d ever believed? What business was it of anyone’s that she was with Joe?
She poured tea for Nina into a brightly coloured mug and handed it to her. Nina took it automatically and wrapped her hands around it.
‘So, do you want to tell us what this is all about?’ asked Joe.
‘You should ask her.’ Nina looked at Sheridan. ‘Everything’s to do with her. The lying, scheming, thieving—’
‘Nina!’ Joe interrupted her.
Sheridan felt the blood drain from her face. It was almost inconceivable, she thought, that everything to do with Paudie, Elva and Sean had been utterly and completely driven from her mind by the time she’d just spent with Joe O’Malley. But it was true. Nothing had mattered more to her than being with him, exploring his body, talking to him, realising that the electricity was real, but more than that, discovering that she loved him . . . She put her mug on the table beside Joe’s. If she hadn’t, she would have dropped it.
‘Sheridan?’ Joe’s voice was full of concern.
She felt sick. In remembering Paudie, Elva and Sean, she was also remembering her promise to Alo Brady. She’d said she’d help him because she hadn’t believed that Joe could feel for her what she felt for him. But that was before. It was different now.
‘It’s a misunderstanding, Nina,’ she said. ‘I promise you.’
‘I haven’t misunderstood anything,’ said Nina. ‘At least, not today. What I did misunderstand was everything to do with you from the first time I saw you until now. I thought you were a decent, honest person. I felt sorry for you. I was so, so wrong.’
‘Nina, please . . .’ Sheridan knew that she was shaking. She didn’t want Nina to blurt out anything about the envelope. Joe would be horrified to think she’d seen the contents, if, of course, he even knew they existed.
‘What did she tell you?’ Nina asked him now. ‘That she was a poor redundant journalist? That she was forced to come here for a job? Did she blame your father for that?’
Joe looked from Nina to Sheridan in puzzlement. He could see real anger on Nina’s face. And absolute terror on Sheridan’s. Why, he asked himself, did she look so scared? What had she done?
‘That’s the truth,’ Sheridan said. ‘I lost my job. I was out of work for weeks. The Central News was the only job I could get.’
‘Or that you wanted to get,’ said Nina. ‘So that you could poke around. How do we know that you didn’t plan everything? That you’re not employed by another paper to snoop? That you’re not trying to get the inside track on me and Sean and everything to do with us? I should have guessed when you came here looking for a place to stay. No one tries to rent out rooms in a guesthouse for months on end.’
‘You’ve got it all wrong!’ cried Sheridan. ‘I knew nothing about you or your guesthouse until DJ suggested it.’
‘I’ve no idea what anyone is talking about here,’ said Joe.
‘Don’t you?’ asked Nina.
‘Absolutely not.’
Nina sat down abruptly. She’d come to challenge Sheridan, not to reveal secrets to Joe O’Malley. She didn’t know what Joe already knew about his mother and father’s relationship, or Elva’s relationship with Sean. She didn’t know what Paudie had told him. If anything.
‘Nina thinks I took something belonging to her.’ Sheridan’s voice was shaking.
‘Did you?’ Joe sounded both astonished and appalled.
‘Yes,’ said Sheridan. ‘But it was a mistake. I didn’t mean to. I got flustered and—’
‘Flustered? I don’t think you were flustered at all!’ cried Nina. ‘I think you planned it.’
‘I didn’t. How could I have? I’d no idea you’d ask me to look at photos.’
‘What photos?’ asked Joe.
Nina and Sheridan stared at each other, neither entirely sure what to do next. Eventually Sheridan got up and retrieved the paintings, the note and the ring from the drawer she’d put them in before she’d left the studio to meet Joe.
He watched her curiously. Then his eyes widened as he recognised the paintings and he gasped when he saw the ring.
‘How the hell . . .?’ He looked at Nina, who put the ring and the paintings on the table in front of him. ‘You had these? She took them from you?’
‘Yes,’ said Sheridan.
‘That’s my mother’s ring,’ he said in absolute bewilderment. ‘I recognise it. And these paintings, of course. I remember her working on them.’
Nina’s grip tightened on the note, which she still held. ‘You watched her paint them?’
‘Not all of them.’ He was looking at the ones of the heart with the dagger through it. ‘Not these. Not the ones of the man, either. But the landscapes, yes.’
Nina took a deep breath and then released it.
‘Why do you have them?’ asked Joe. ‘And my mother’s ring?’ Then he turned to Sheridan. ‘How could you possibly have taken them by mistake?’
‘I was helping Nina look through photos for the festival exhibition,’ explained Sheridan. ‘I came across these when she was out of the room. I realised that I shouldn’t have seen them. I thought I heard Nina coming back and I . . . I panicked.’
‘Why should you panic?’
‘Because I didn’t want to have to talk to her about them. I knew . . . there was something . . . and the note . . .’ Her glance shifted to the sheet of pink writing paper in Nina’s hand.
‘What note?’
‘Maybe Nina should tell you,’ she said helplessly.
‘It’s . . . Oh, Joe, I don’t know what you know already.’ Nina’s voice trembled.
‘Know about what? My mother? Her painting?’
‘In a way, yes.’
‘I don’t know why you have my mother’s ring,’ said Joe. ‘So an answer to that would be a good start. Perhaps I should read the note.’
‘Maybe it would be better if I tell you first,’ said Nina.
‘I’m listening.’ This time Joe sounded grim. He pulled a chair from the table and sat down. ‘So go on, tell me.’
Chapter 31
Even though it was late, Sean Fallon was awake and sitting in front of the TV in his rented apartment. He’d been watching recorded episodes of Chandler’s Park, but now he switched off the set and poured a measure of whiskey into the glass beside him. Sean wasn’t a big whiskey drinker, but he found that a glass before bed relaxed him these days and helped him to sleep.
He hadn’t been sleeping well lately. His mind had been buzzing with concern over his future role in Chandler’s Park (he had the horrible feeling that his character would stay in the coma for months), but also with excitement over the new project, which was fun but now nearly completed. If he didn’t have anything to do in Dublin, there was no reason for him to remain. His relationship with Lulu Adams was over. But Nina was being very stubborn about the chances of his return to Ardbawn.
He didn’t blame her. She was entitled to be mad as hell with him. And, in retrospect, sending her the solicitor’s letter had been stupid. It had understandably antagonised her when he should have been a
ppeasing her. But then he didn’t always get it right with Nina. He’d imagined, back when he’d first asked her to go out with him, that it would be a short-lived thing. He hadn’t planned to marry her. The truth was that if he hadn’t been encouraged by his father, he probably never would have asked her. Yet their lives together had been more stable and more fulfilling than he’d ever expected. It would have always been that way if it hadn’t been for Elva Slater.
He’d first noticed Elva in his teens. She was by far the most beautiful girl in Ardbawn. Tall and slender, with long flaxen hair and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, she was two years older than him, and despite the fact that he’d already chalked up quite a few conquests of his own, he considered her almost beyond his reach. But then, late one summer’s evening, he’d met her walking along the road from the old creamery to the town. She was wearing a white cotton dress printed with blue and yellow flowers. Her hair hung loosely down her back, and to Sean she was like a fairy princess appearing though the dusk. A fairy princess who was limping because, as she told him, she’d tripped over a stone in the road and turned her ankle and it was absolute agony.
He’d supported her back to the town and to the house where she lived with her elderly parents, and then, seizing the moment, he asked her if she’d like to meet him again. She’d smiled and said yes, and the next thing he knew, he, Sean Fallon, was her official boyfriend.
Their relationship was deep and intense and lasted for nearly a year. But the problem was that much as Sean loved going out with the most beautiful girl in town, he found her unending neediness wearing. He hadn’t realised that someone as lovely and as apparently confident as Elva would be needy. But she was. She constantly asked him if he loved her, constantly worried that she wasn’t beautiful enough, constantly fretted about the littlest of things. Eventually Sean told her that he couldn’t take it any more. He was tired of being the one who seemed to give all the time and received nothing in return. The undoubted pleasure he got from her was more than offset by the irritation he felt at always having to tell her how much he loved her. He longed for the days when he’d gone out with someone and it was just a bit of fun. So he broke it off with her and applied himself to seeking out less demanding female company, which he found perfectly easy to do.
Better Together Page 38
