‘You make me happy,’ the older man smiled, and Richard hung his head. He had been so selfish about their relationship, particularly when he insisted on marrying Caroline against Charles’s advice. But then, Charles had always been able to accept without any shame that he was homosexual. Unlike Richard, who did not have the courage to face the truth.
Well, Charles had six months to a year to live, and Richard was going to make sure that it was the best possible time for him. He hoped that Caroline would understand the reasons for the decision he was about to take. Right now, Charles needed him and he was determined to be by his side. If his wife didn’t accept that, it would be hard, but he had to make a commitment for once in his life.
Caroline sat up in bed and glanced at her alarm clock. Seven-thirty. Well, she’d survived the night. Not too bad for a woman on her own, who was subject to panic attacks. It had been a good move to go for a swim; she had swum twenty lengths and really worn herself out before going to bed. True, it had taken her a while to get to sleep, as the events of the day weaved in and out of her mind. It was hard to accept the news about Charles.
Richard had phoned about eleven to see if she was all right and then he had passed the phone to Charles, who had thanked her for sending Richard to spend the night with him. She had choked up completely at the sound of his deep voice, and could only say brokenly, ‘I’m so sorry, Charles, I’m so sorry.’
Charles offered her words of comfort. ‘I’ve had a good life and a lot of love. I’m a contented man, so please don’t take it so hard, my dear Caroline.’
She had pulled herself together for his sake but when he hung up she cried. She felt better for it, the lump in her throat dissolving with her tears. Having a cry was good for you, a therapist in the clinic had once told her, and ever since she had taken her advice. Instead of suppressing feelings of anger and grief, she was learning to express them, and it was helping. When she recalled how she had spoken to Richard at dinner that evening, she knew she was much more assertive, in fact a completely different woman from what she had been even six months earlier.
Yawning, she thought how funny it was that the noises that she had grown used to over the years seemed different when she was in the apartment on her own. But it had been a long day, what with the drive back from Rosslare Harbour, the news of Charles and then her marathon swim, and eventually she had drifted into sleep.
She was sitting down to breakfast when the phone rang. ‘Put me on to Richard,’ Sarah Yates ordered.
‘I’m afraid he’s not here, Mrs Yates.’
‘Not there! Where is he at this hour of the morning?’
‘He had to leave early,’ Caroline replied. ‘You might catch him at the office. I don’t know. Good morning, Mrs Yates.’ She hung up the phone and took a deep breath. The way things were going, Richard would soon have to ask his mother’s permission to go to the loo. What a dragon! And she was getting worse as she got older.
She’d better get a move on, she thought, glancing at the clock. She was showing a house in Santry and an apartment in Glasnevin this morning, and she had to go to the office first to collect the keys. It was great that she had got part-time work with her old employers. Three days a week was better than nothing, and she really looked forward to going into work after the aimless emptiness of doing nothing day-in, day-out except looking at videos and drinking and buying clothes that she didn’t need and attending boring functions with Richard. Going back to work after coming out of hospital had given her something to hold on to and was helping to restore her sense of self-worth. Although Richard was very generous with money and she had her own cheque-book and credit cards, what she earned for herself gave her great satisfaction.
She was looking forward to this morning. She loved showing properties. She liked matching clients to places, and it was always a thrill when someone decided to buy and got all excited about the property and the sale went through. Especially she loved dealing with young couples who were buying their first home, envying them their dreams and anticipation. She had dreams when she married Richard but they had been rudely shattered. She’d never gone house-hunting either; she had walked into this penthouse she herself had sold Richard. That was the first time she had ever met him, and she remembered how impressed she’d been by his suaveness, immaculate grooming and lovely manners. She’d been so impressed, too, when he’d decided to opt for the penthouse, never dreaming that she would end up living there herself.
When Caroline moved in, the apartment had already been decorated and even though she had recently done some redecoration, she never really felt it was hers or that she was part of it. Listening to couples planning how they would redecorate the houses they were viewing always brought home to her just how unlike most married couples she and Richard were. But at least everything was out in the open between them now, and there was no more drinking or beatings.
She went into the bedroom, picked up her briefcase and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The weekend in the sun had done her the world of good, and in her stone-coloured linen suit she looked smart and fresh. The traffic wasn’t too bad, and an hour later she was on her way to the first property, having picked up the keys and documentation from the city-centre office. It was a house in a fairly new estate on the Coolock side of the Santry bypass, put on the market by a young couple with two children who were moving to Cork.
She let herself into the four-bedroomed semi and inspected the rooms. Her mouth tightened in annoyance as she noted the untidiness. Honestly, some people were beyond belief! Here she was trying to sell a house and emphasize its good points and they hadn’t even bothered to clean the bathroom! She noted in disgust the dribble of toothpaste down the side of the avocado wash-basin. Did the vendors not stop to consider that a favourable first impression was of the utmost importance? She had seen people put completely off houses by dirt and untidiness. In one house that she had sold recently, the owners, who had already vacated the premises, had left a bin in the kitchen overflowing with refuse and soiled nappies. Well, it wasn’t up to her to go tidying up, so she went back downstairs to the lounge to await the first viewers.
They arrived about ten minutes later, a young couple with a child in a push-chair. Caroline showed them around, then brought them out the back to view the garden. By then, two further sets of viewers were on the doorstep: a middle-aged couple and a woman in her thirties who worked in the airport and was a first-time buyer. The middle-aged couple were very pleasant, and Caroline honestly didn’t think the house would suit them at all. She said, as diplomatically as possible, ‘This is a fairly new estate and in another couple of years you’re going to have lots of children and teenagers kicking ball and playing on the streets and greens. Do you not think you might be better off going for a more mature area?’
‘There, Joan, didn’t I tell you that?’ the husband said triumphantly.
‘I don’t want to move too far from Jill and the children,’ the woman explained. Caroline nodded sympathetically when she heard that Jill was their daughter and lived in Santry. ‘My son’s a pilot and he lives off Griffith Avenue, so I want to be near them both. Our own house has dry-rot, and we thought we’d move rather than go through all the hassle of getting a job done on it. Besides,’ she confided in Caroline, ‘we’ve dreadful new neighbours for the past year or so. They’ve made our lives a misery and we just want to get out.’
‘We happen to have three properties for sale in a mature estate in the Ballygall area,’ Caroline suggested. ‘That’s between Glasnevin and Wadelai. I think somewhere like that would suit you much better and it would be no distance from Santry or Griffith Avenue. Why don’t I arrange a viewing for you?’
The husband looked hopefully at his wife. ‘That sounds just the ticket.’
‘That’s very kind of you, dear,’ the woman beamed. Caroline took their phone number and promised to get back to them with the arrangements. She waved them off happily, very pleased with herself. One thing she had never done in h
er career as an estate agent was to sell a property that she knew did not really meet a client’s needs. It just wasn’t her style. If she lost a commission because of it, so be it. It would have bothered her far more if she’d been tossing and turning at night feeling guilty – which she certainly would have been had she sold that couple a house more suitable for a young family than for a pair nearing retirement.
The Aer Lingus woman was quite interested, and told Caroline she would get back to her as she had several other houses to view. The young couple weren’t too happy with the location of schools and although there were several large shopping centres nearby, the wife didn’t like the idea of the nearest local shop being twenty minutes’ walk away.
After all the viewers had left, Caroline had a good half-hour to spare before her next appointment. As she drove along the Ballymun dual carriageway, she thought she might as well pop into a shop and get something for her lunch. She turned left into Pappin’s Road and parked outside Network News. She could buy a few goodies for Maggie’s two elder children as she was going to be babysitting them later on. She spent ten minutes selecting comics and colouring books, before buying a salad roll and yoghurt for herself in the supermarket, then another ten minutes in Chambers, looking at make-up, for which she had a great weakness. She emerged with a new eyeshadow, lipstick and a matching nail-varnish, feeling a little buzz from her spree.
The apartment in Glasnevin overlooked the Botanic Gardens and was in immaculate condition. Standing on the balcony overlooking the Tolka River and the Rose Garden, she knew she’d have no problems selling the property. Indeed, of the eight parties who came to view it, two, a young woman banker and a retired detective, informed her that they were willing to pay the asking price. She told them that it would go to tender and invited them to submit their highest offer to her at the office in a sealed envelope.
Caroline was about to leave the apartment when her mobile phone rang. It was Richard to say that he was taking the rest of the day off work to spend it with Charles, who was anxious to start putting his affairs in order.
‘I’ll be babysitting in Maggie’s until around nine. Will you be home tonight?’ Caroline asked.
‘I will,’ her husband said and then, ‘Caroline, I need to talk to you about something. Can we discuss it when you get home?’
She was puzzled at the urgency of his tone. ‘Of course, Richard.’
‘Look, I have to go, Caroline. Charles wants to make a will. Because he’s leaving me a bequest I can’t act for him so we’re going over to Shaun O’Rourke’s. I’ll see you later and we’ll have a talk.’
‘OK,’ she said hastily. ‘By the way, your mother phoned this morning.’
‘I know. I got a lecture for using vulgar language.’ Caroline could sense that Richard was smiling as he hung up.
She wondered what he wanted to talk to her about. Well, she’d find out this evening. The rest of the day passed in a flurry of activity. She went back to the office, had her lunch, completed her paperwork, made appointments for the following day’s viewings, and arranged for her middle-aged couple to see the three houses she had told them about. Then she drove home, had a shower and changed into jeans and a T-shirt before setting off for Maggie’s.
The children were delighted to see her and pounced on their goodies with squeals of excitement. By the time she’d fed them, played with them, and finally got them to bed, she was whacked, and she didn’t delay when Terry arrived home. She was relieved to put the key into her own front door, all ready to relax in front of the TV with a cup of coffee.
Richard was already at home. He looked tired.
‘How’s it going?’ Caroline hugged him. In the old days he would have rebuffed her expression of affection, fearing that she wanted an intimacy that he wasn’t capable of sharing with her, but now he accepted her hug gratefully and hugged her back.
‘Would you like a cup of coffee?’ he asked.
‘I’d love one,’ she smiled, kicking off her shoes and flopping into an armchair. Five minutes later he handed her a mug of coffee and a Club Milk. ‘Thanks,’ she said appreciatively, taking a sip and unwrapping the snack.
‘Caroline.’ Richard started pacing the room. ‘The thing is . . . I hope you don’t think I’m an awful bastard . . .’ He stopped short, then blurted, ‘Charles wants to go and live in Boston. He has a property there and his brother is an oncologist in a hospital nearby, so he would be well taken care of . . .’ Richard paused again, as if unsure how to continue.
‘That sounds like a good idea,’ Caroline remarked, wondering why Richard should imagine that she would think he was an awful bastard.
‘Yes it is, but the thing is, I’d like to go and stay with him for as long as he needs me.’ Her husband turned and met her shocked gaze. ‘And that means leaving you on your own.’
Thirteen
‘You want to go to Boston with Charles?’ Caroline repeated, stunned.
‘Yes, Caroline . . . I do,’ her husband said quietly.
‘When?’
‘Whenever he wants to go.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Caroline was completely taken aback by Richard’s bombshell.
‘Look, I know you probably think I’ve an awful cheek after all I’ve put you through to turn around suddenly and say that I want to go to Boston with Charles. But Caroline, it’s the only chance I’ve got to make up to him for my selfishness in the past. Don’t you see that?’ he pleaded.
What about me? she wanted to shout.
Something of her feelings must have shown in her face because he said unhappily, ‘I’m sorry, Caroline. I know I’ve no right to expect you to see it from my side. I’ve treated you every bit as badly as I’ve treated him. Why should I expect you to give me your blessing?’
‘What does Charles think about it?’ Caroline asked dully. Despite the fact that they hadn’t much of a marriage, she couldn’t but feel that her husband had betrayed her once again.
‘He doesn’t know I’m even thinking of doing such a thing. Charles would have a fit if he thought I was walking out on you for him.’ He grimaced. ‘I was kind of hoping that by saying you wouldn’t mind, you might persuade him to agree.’
‘What would you do about the practice?’ Caroline was amazed that her husband would consider leaving his thriving legal practice.
‘Well, I have Baldwin and Kenny there, and I’d let them get on with it. I would just wind down my own cases and not take on any more. Two solicitors in a practice is more than enough to keep it going,’ Richard said eagerly, a glimmer of hope lightening his eyes. ‘You’d get paid every week of course. I’d arrange all that,’ he assured her.
Caroline said nothing. She couldn’t think straight. Richard was proposing leaving the practice in the hands of the two solicitors he employed and going off to Boston for God knows how long so that he could be with Charles during his last illness!
She could understand his reasons and sympathize with them and indeed, if she had not been involved, she would have been full of admiration for this selfless gesture. But she was involved, very much involved, and it hurt her to think that Richard was so insensitive to her fragile emotional state that he did not realize the terrible effect the prospect of being left alone would have on her.
Oh, yes, all along she had been saying that she would get her annulment and a foreign divorce and start afresh, but she had always thought that Richard would still be there in the background – not thousands of miles away across the Atlantic. Making plans had been all very well, but she hadn’t thought that the moment of truth would come so soon. Now that the time seemed to have come for them to split up for real, it was a very daunting prospect.
‘I know I’ve a bit of a cheek,’ he said miserably.
‘A bit of a cheek!’ she burst out resentfully. ‘I think you’ve a bloody big cheek. But what’s new? Don’t worry about good old Caroline; she won’t mind; she’s been a mouse for so long that she won’t know the difference. Well, I do mind. I mi
nd very much. I’m still your wife. If you take off for a year, apart from leaving me on my own, who’s going to end up taking all the flak about our separation? Who’s going to have to answer all the questions about where you are? Muggins here.’ Caroline glared at her husband. A thought struck her. ‘And what are you going to do about your mother?’
‘Well, the firm will handle her affairs as usual. I was going to pay her daily to do her shopping if she wants it . . . and I was hoping you’d keep an eye on her,’ Richard muttered.
Caroline’s eyes widened at this, the greatest indignity so far. ‘You were, were you? What a nerve! Richard, you just go and fuck off for yourself.’ She got to her feet, picked up her bag and slammed the sitting-room door behind her.
She was so angry, so absolutely door-slamming, cup-throwing, chair-kicking angry. She marched down the hall to her bedroom, slammed that door, flung her bag across the room and threw herself on the bed.
What was it about her that no-one ever gave a shit about her feelings? How could Richard think that he could even propose such an idea? Not when she was still getting over the shock of his homosexuality and recovering from her breakdown? It just wasn’t fair!
Oh, don’t be so childish, she turned on herself. It wasn’t fair! Grow up. Nothing is fair. Look at Charles. What was the good of keeping Richard in Dublin, by clinging on to the pathetic idea that he was her husband. He wasn’t her husband; he never had been. And if she truly was serious about making a new life for herself, it would have to be on her own.
‘But I’m not ready for it, I’m not ready,’ she muttered into her pillow, as fear, rage and resentment took hold of her and bitter tears spilled down her cheeks.
What would he do if he couldn’t go to Boston to be with Charles? Richard paced up and down the sitting-room floor, frantically trying to find a solution. Maybe Caroline could come with them? If he had asked her to come, she might not have been so hostile to the idea.
City Woman Page 13
