Apartment 3B

by Patricia Scanlan

  Dominic shifted gingerly. He didn’t want to wake Rita but his arm had got pins and needles from where she was lying on it. He should have insisted on going to a hotel but the kids had been all excited about sleeping in their sleeping bags on the floor of his new office.

  He hoped he was doing the right thing opening the office in Dublin. Maybe he was over-extending. But the business was definitely there – he knew that from the enquiries to his Cork office. He’d give it a bash for a year and see how it went. He’d leased this place for a year and if he didn’t think things were going too well he wouldn’t bother to renew it. Mind it was ideal and the rent wasn’t bad. Fairview was an excellent location. Not far from the docks, less than ten minutes to the city centre. Plenty of shops and amenities. The sea and Bull Island within walking distance, and Fairview Park just across the road. It wasn’t bad at all and he felt he was going to enjoy the few days a week he spent in Dublin. It was very handy too that there was living accommodation adjoining the office. Not much, but the room in which they were currently sleeping would do as a bedsit, with a small bathroom on the landing. It would suit him fine that he wouldn’t have to go looking for accommodation.

  That was why Rita and the two children had come up to Dublin with him. To do the place up and get him settled in. They had spent the day washing and scrubbing and unpacking bits and pieces and the place was quite homely now. Rita didn’t really like Dublin. ‘It hasn’t the class of Cork at all,’ she declared as they drove through the city streets to get to Fairview. Dominic liked it. He felt comfortable in its anonymity. And if he could build up a business here he could do it anywhere. He must arrange to interview a secretary, he decided sleepily, trying to find a comfortable position. Eventually he fell asleep.

  Friday 10 July 1981

  Humming to himself, Dominic patted some Old Spice after-shave lotion on his smooth jaw. It had been a recent birthday present from his younger daughter, Kimberly. Tonight, though, he didn’t feel forty-two, he felt twenty-two. Mind he didn’t look twenty-two, he thought ruefully, observing how grey he was at the temples. Still at least he hadn’t gone jowly yet and he carried no extra weight.

  What had got into him? Standing there admiring himself like a fool. He was only going out for a friendly drink with a young woman whom he had got to know quite well since he had come to Dublin. ‘Lainey’s almost young enough to be your daughter,’ he told himself sternly. Nevertheless he was looking forward, as always, to meeting her.

  There was something about her that intrigued him. Despite her air of self-confidence, her classy elegance, her ambition to forge ahead in her career, there was a vulnerability behind it all that made him feel ridiculously protective. Even that very first time in Cork when he had helped her out by giving her the lift to the airport, he had sensed it about her. She had been so grateful for his help. They had chatted for ages afterwards and he had enjoyed very much talking to her. Lainey was an interesting young woman, clearly very involved in her career and, from what she had told him, Dominic could see that she was excellent at her job. He had found her easy to talk to and enjoyed telling her about his own career plans. He had been sorry to say goodnight to her, thinking that he would probably never see her again. Rita was tidying up after her Tupperware party and had only listened to him with half an ear as he told her of the events of the evening. Dominic felt his good humour fizzle away. He had spent the last three hours talking to a stranger who was more interested in what was happening to him than his own wife! It was enough to put a man in a bad humour.

  When Rita informed him that she was planning a barbecue for Sunday lunch to which she had invited Mona and her gang, he went to bed in a foul humour. Christ! Could a man not get any peace in his own home! Mona had no control over her kids. They ran around like wild things, upstairs, downstairs, in, out, while she sat there moaning to Rita. Then his own crowd, seeing how their friends were getting away with it, would start, until Dominic would be unable to restrain himself any longer and let a roar out of him. Rita would glare at him, Mona would look hurt and reproachful, the kids would be quiet for five minutes or so and then they’d be off again. When he was growing up, his parents would have had a fit if he and his siblings had carried on like that. Going upstairs in someone else’s house was a leg-battering offence and, by God, they had been reared to have manners. Nowadays people couldn’t care less. Kids were let do what they liked with no respect for people or their property. Well he didn’t want his children growing up like that and he and Rita used to have some mighty big rows about what she perceived as his sternness. He just wanted his kids to have manners and respect. What the hell was wrong with that? Having to put up with Mona and her gang at a barbecue was not the way he wanted to spend his Sunday. He’d be better off in Dublin, he fumed, as he lay beside his sleeping untroubled wife. And then the thought had struck him. He could drive up to the capital on the Sunday, instead of on the Monday, have a nice meal and a read of his Sunday papers and give that girl Lainey a lift as well. It would save her from going on the train.

  Dominic had ended up enjoying his day immensely. Lainey had been delighted. The journey had seemed so short because of the company. She had invited him into her lovely little apartment in Monkstown for coffee, which he had enjoyed enormously. Then he had gone and had lunch in the Gresham, bought all the Sunday papers and gone out to Fairview and spent a lovely peaceful evening reading them. It had been one of the nicest Sundays he had spent in ages.

  He had bumped into Lainey in the Country Club several times afterwards. He always entertained his clients there and when she was doing calls in Cork she always stayed there. When they both discovered that they were going to be in London at the same time on business they had been delighted and arranged to meet. They had spent a lovely few hours together and after that had got into the habit of meeting for a drink and going for a meal occasionally when he was working in Dublin. It was something to look forward to and he liked the company. Except for his business clients and Lainey, he never went anywhere. No nightclubber he. The dubious delights of Leeson Street and the like were not his scene.

  Dominic was surprised that as glamorous and cosmopolitan a woman as Lainey would be interested in his company. He was sure she had men falling all over her. Then one night he rang her and realized that she was near to tears and went over to Monkstown to make sure that she was all right. She told him about that man Steve in Moncas Bay, who had married someone else, and he realized that there was no-one else in her life.

  That Steve was an awful fool to lose a woman like Lainey, Dominic decided, as he knotted his tie and put on his jacket. Whistling cheerfully, he drove into town to meet her as arranged.

  Monday 3 June 1985

  ‘Take care!’ Dominic hugged Lainey tightly as he said goodbye before she flew out to Jeddah. Although she was not going for a few days yet, she had to go down to Moncas Bay to say her goodbyes to her family, who would be taking her to the airport.

  He couldn’t believe how shocked he had been when she had told him that she was going to Saudi Arabia to work. He was going to miss her like hell!

  He had told himself over and over, from the very first time that they had become lovers, that he had no claim on her. He was a married man, she was young, single and free. Just loving her and being with her was a bonus. But apart from that, forget it, he told himself.

  Since they had become lovers on that wonderful magical night three years before, Dominic always expected Lainey to come and tell him that she was ending their affair. That she had met someone else. Someone more suitable than him, some eligible man! And so far, she never had. She seemed so content to be with him the times they were together. It was amazing.

  Lainey Conroy had brought such joy into his life. He was a different man from the irritated restless person he had been, leading a different existence. When Lainey put her arms around him Dominic always felt as though he had come home to a restful haven where no-one could disturb them.

  He had been so shoc
ked at himself in the beginning, after that first time that they kissed, when they realized that they were very much attracted to each other. Never, ever had he thought that he would commit adultery and betray his wife with another woman. Both of them had fought the attraction for a long while. Dominic had tried to talk to Rita about their relationship. He had tried to get back a sense of what they had had in those first few happy years of marriage but somehow, it evaded them. His wife was so busy with her own interests, so wrapped up in the lives of their children, and since he had started spending part of every week in Dublin, he had felt even less involved at home than before. All his kids ever seemed to want from him was money.

  ‘Dad, can I have a tenner? I’m going hostelling.’

  ‘Dad, can I borrow the car to bring Cathy on a date?’ Imagine he had a son who was old enough to drive and go on dates. The feeling of growing older and not going anywhere hadn’t helped him to stay faithful. Was it just a change of life type of thing? Did men go through a male menopause or was it just a fable? All he knew was that he felt lonely and rejected, just like Lainey. The time came when he didn’t care about his guilt, didn’t care that he was cheating Rita. Their marriage held no great meaning for him anymore. Rita wasn’t that interested so why should he do himself out of his last chance at a bit of happiness.

  Dominic never regretted his decision to begin an affair with Lainey. It had brought him more happiness in the few years that they had been together than all the years of marriage. But he had no claims on Lainey and now she was going abroad and would probably meet some handsome single businessman on one of her flights who would sweep her off her feet – and that would be the end of their relationship. The pain in his heart was almost physical as he heard her reassure him that she would be home often and she would always love him. Watching her drive off in the taxi he had called for her, he knew he could not concentrate on work that day. He told his secretary that he would be out for a while, got into his car and started to drive aimlessly around. An hour or so later, driving down the Old Finglas Road into Glasnevin, he passed a recently-built apartment complex. One apartment remained to be sold. He could do with getting a proper place to live in, now that he was firmly established in Dublin. After all, he was doing so well. Besides, it would be an investment. On the spur of the moment he drove into the luxurious grounds. It was a nice spot, ideal for the airport and the city centre and about a twenty-minute drive from his office in Fairview. Lainey would get a great surprise if he bought a place. Because he had nothing better to do, Dominic decided to go and have a look at the apartment for sale in Mountain View.

  Saturday 18 February 1989

  Dominic walked up the aisle of his parish church with his twenty-three-year-old daughter gripping his arm tightly. He could feel her nervousness. He couldn’t believe that Denise was getting married. Twenty-three was so young. It made him feel so old and he wasn’t really that old. Fifty wasn’t considered old these days. But it was what she wanted and when he had tried to persuade her to hang on a few years and enjoy being single she had said, laughing, ‘But didn’t you and Mum get married when she was younger than me and you weren’t much older and aren’t you happy?’ He had no answer to that. If he gave the appearance of being happy it wasn’t because of the state of his marriage to Rita, it was because of the role Lainey played in his life.

  Behind them, Kimberly, his younger daughter, dressed in shocking pink, was enjoying her role of bridesmaid to the full. Her twenty-first birthday was just a few weeks away and she wanted a big party. Just as well he had the money to pay for all these extravaganzas. His children thought money grew on trees. They reached the altar and, kissing Denise on the cheek, Dominic handed her over to her future husband. His duty done, he returned to his seat beside Rita who was sobbing into her handkerchief. He put his arm around her. Poor Rita, she always took these things so seriously. When Michael, their eldest, had got married eighteen months before, she had moped around the house for days feeling depressed. Still, he thought wryly, his son hadn’t wasted his time. Like father, like son, Rita had laughed when Michael told them they were to be grandparents. It was all settled. Michael’s wife would continue to work and Rita would look after the baby. After rearing one family she was more than ready to take on another. So much for a nice peaceful retirement. Mona’s eldest daughter was in the same boat and Mona too was going to mind her grandchild. So if things ran true to course, not only would he have to put up with his own grandchildren in the house, he’d have to put up with Mona’s as well. What a prospect.

  Rita found it so hard to let go of the children, whereas he was all for them spreading their wings and becoming independent. You couldn’t be tied to the apron-strings for ever and they had been lucky, he told his wife. So far none of them had moved away from home into a flat, although Kimberly was chafing at the bit, wanting to get a place of her own in town. He wasn’t too happy about that. If she was going to live with girlfriends he wouldn’t mind, but he had a suspicion that Kimberly wanted to shack up with that Senan McCarthy, whom she had been dating for the last few months. Dominic couldn’t stand him. He was a lazy good-for-nothing and that was not what he wanted for his daughter.

  As the priest spoke earnestly about the joys and responsibilities of marriage, Dominic sighed. He hadn’t been a very good husband, he’d be the first to admit. Maybe he shouldn’t have got married so young. His and Rita’s needs were so different, they were such different people: Rita needing bustle and hustle and lots of activities to keep her occupied; he needing to succeed in his business, and longing for a life of relative peace and quiet. With Lainey he had found that. One of their greatest pleasures was to go for a long walk on Bull Island on a Friday afternoon, a day he’d leave work early if she were home. They would let the wind blow away the stresses and strains of the day, listen to the waves pounding the beach and the screeching of the seagulls overhead, go into a pub for a quiet drink before the weekend crowds started coming and then home to cook something new and exotic. Cooking was a shared pleasure for him and Lainey. After their meal they would cuddle up on the sofa with a bottle of wine in front of a roaring fire to watch The Late Late Show.

  Rita would have been bored out of her wits by that kind of thing. She far preferred to spend Friday and Saturday walking the length of Patrick Street going in and out of the shops and department stores, meeting acquaintances. She would buy handy frozen food, prepared dinners like lasagne and chicken Kiev that bore no more resemblance to the real thing than chalk does to cheese. The dinner would be cooked in a few minutes in the microwave, eaten on a tray in front of the TV while Coronation Street was on and then he would be left to tidy up while she went off to her ICA meeting or her school committee meeting or whatever. That’s the way it had always been. Rita was Rita and he was he and the older he got the less he was willing to resign himself to that for the rest of his life.

  Lainey’s letter reposed in the breast pocket of his formal suit and later, when he had a few minutes to himself and all the speeches were over, he was going to sit down and read it again over a quiet pint. She was coming home for good. What joy! He had to admire her going out there to Saudi and working her butt off to achieve her goal. But she had achieved it. She had enough saved now to buy a place of her own without getting a horrendous mortgage, and even better, she was getting back into the publishing that she loved. Dominic was delighted for her. And for himself. He had missed her like crazy when she was away, even though when she had been based in London she had been home quite often. But it hadn’t been the same at all. Now she was coming back for good and he wanted to spend more time with her. A lot more time. Lainey made Dominic feel he was important to her in a way that Rita never had. But to be fair, Lainey hadn’t to worry over and rear children like his wife had. It was just somewhere along the line that the balance had shifted and he had ended up at the wrong end of the see-saw. Well, life was not a dress rehearsal. One chance was all you got and he wanted to spend his time with the woman who understood
him and made him happy. Beside him, Rita had started crying again as the rings were exchanged. Handing her a fresh handkerchief, he caught the eye of his youngest son Kieran, as the sixteen-year-old, mortified, threw his eyes up to heaven. Dominic smiled at his son over Rita’s head. At six feet he was already taller than him. He must give Kieran a few quid to spend on himself. Of them all, Kieran was the most like him and he was extremely interested in the business, working in the Cork office during his summer holidays. A thought struck Dominic and he smiled. Eventually Kieran might take over the Cork office and that would leave him free to spend the entire week in Dublin. Not even the thought of making his father-of-the-bride speech could put a dent in his good humour that day, he decided, as he took Rita’s arm and led her to the altar to where they were to witness the signing of the register.

  CECILY AND SIMON

  Wednesday 12 November 1980

  There were crisps all over her good carpet, Andrew was bawling, terrified by the clown it had cost her a fortune to hire for his second birthday. Some horrible child had rubbed his dirty little paws on her vinyl silk peach and magnolia wallpaper and Simon was going to have a blue fit when he saw it.

  It had seemed like such a good idea to have a party. She had seen some wonderful party ideas in Good Housekeeping and thought it would be a good way of getting one up on Helena McGrath. If Cecily threw the first party Helena would no doubt follow suit for her little girl, but the important thing was that Cecily would have done it first!

  Motherhood was so demanding! She couldn’t keep Andrew clean. He was always dribbling down on to his expensive little outfits, no matter how many bibs she put on him. And since he had started feeding himself it was a nightmare. She had never worked so hard in her life, not even for old sourpuss Muir. All that washing! The constant feeding. And changing those nappies – Yeuch! Her lovely idyll of peaceful leisure was only a dream. Just as well Mummy came down from Dublin to help out. Otherwise, she’d go crazy. It was alright for Helena McGrath. The chef in the hotel cooked the food for herself and Steve and of course she had breast-fed, so that meant she didn’t have to go making up bottles and sterilizing them and all that palaver.