Mr Right for the Night

by Marisa Mackle

‘When will she be back?’

  ‘God only knows, Anna. God only knows.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Claire sat nervously outside Tom’s apartment in Dalkey. She had no idea what she was planning on doing. But one thing was sure. She’d had enough. Enough of the painful bouts of silence that had become the norm in that place herself and Simon called ‘home’.

  Her husband didn’t love her any more. Well, if he did, he had a very funny way of showing it. Maybe he loved Shelley. Or maybe he was too wrapped up in himself to love anybody. Relationships were hard work. Everybody knew that. But Claire didn’t know if she could be bothered handling any more work. There was only so much giving one person could do. She switched off the engine and checked her appearance in the side mirror. Her reflection didn’t look bad for someone who was crying inside. She stepped out of the car and locked it. Mechanically she walked towards the entrance of the apartment block.

  ‘Come on up,’ Tom sounded genuinely delighted to hear her voice.

  Wearing faded denims and a dark grey sweatshirt, Tom certainly didn’t look like he’d any plans to go out. Spontaneously he kissed Claire’s flushed cheeks and ushered her into the warm apartment.

  ‘Are you okay?’ He looked at her with concern. Claire opened her mouth to say something but instead, to her horror, she felt her face crumble and a hot tear slid down the side of her cheek.

  Mortified, she brushed it away with the side of her hand. But then another one fell. And another one.

  ‘Sit down,’ Tom ordered gently. ‘Surely it can’t be as bad as all that.’

  ‘It’s worse,’ Claire sniffed. God, she was pathetic. Here she was blabbing on to a virtual stranger about the ‘trauma’ concerning her dull life as an urban housewife, when he had lost his fiancée in a horrific accident. Who exactly should be the one crying here?

  ‘Simon’s having an affair,’ she blurted.

  ‘How do you know?’ Tom handed her a Kleenex. He was very calm as if there could be a very reasonable explanation for all of this.

  ‘He told me he was going out with one of the lads from work tonight.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I asked him if Shelley was one of the lads and he said yes.’

  ‘But that doesn’t mean he’s having an affair,’ Tom said quietly.

  ‘I know, I know. It’s just a woman’s instinct is pretty strong.’

  ‘So where are they going?’

  ‘They’re not going anywhere now,’ Claire sniffed.

  ‘I walked out and left him with Andrew.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say, Claire,’ Tom sighed. ‘It’s not really right to interfere in other people’s relationships.’

  ‘You’re so good though,’ Claire placed a hand on his. ‘One day you’ll make some girl extremely happy.’

  She noticed he winced at her words. Oh God, what had she just gone and said now? She was an idiot. A total dingbat.

  ‘I’m sorry, I––’ she stopped mid-sentence as he drew her close to him and let her head rest on his chest.

  ‘Ssh,’ he soothed, ‘there’s no need to say anything.’

  He stroked her hair as she clung to him. Why couldn’t Simon be more like Tom? Why did terrible things happen to nice people like him? It wasn’t fair. She snuggled in closer. Tom’s body was lovely and warm. She hadn’t been cuddled by a man in so long.

  ‘Tom?’ She looked up at him, aware of how close her face was to his.

  He tilted her chin with his forefinger and looked deep into her eyes.

  ‘Claire,’ he murmured. And slowly but surely their lips met and they kissed softly, sweetly, cautiously.

  She pressed herself against him and let him slip his tongue through her slightly parted lips. Their kissing gradually became more frantic, more urgent. How could this be so wrong, Claire wondered, when it felt so right. She threw any niggling reservations to the wind and ran her fingers through his hair, tasting his soft strong lips, hungry for him. His hands began to gently explore her body. She closed her eyes and concentrated on his every move. She hadn’t felt such desire since the birth of her baby. Her baby! Oh God! Andrew was at home with his grumpy father while his mother – the woman he depended on for everything – was behaving like an oversexed slut with a strange man.

  ‘This is all wrong, Claire,’ Tom spoke first.

  ‘I know,’ she withdrew from him, ‘you’re right. My life’s too messed up to contemplate starting an affair.’

  She sat up straight on the sofa and rearranged her clothes. Tom was smiling at her. She smiled back. She felt free. For the first time in a long time, Claire no longer felt trapped.

  ‘Thank you,’ her voice was genuine.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For making me feel like a normal human being again.’

  ‘You don’t hate me then?’

  ‘Of course not, I quite fancy you actually . . .’

  ‘Ditto,’ he said dreamily.

  ‘I’d still like to be your friend,’ she said, ‘and I mean that genuinely. Since Anna has moved to Galway I’ve been feeling a bit low.’

  ‘Well, I know what you mean. A lot of my friends were friends of both of ours – my fiancée and myself. They feel kind of awkward around me now. I kind of understand where they’re coming from . . . I might feel awkward too in the same situation.’

  ‘Do you think you’ll ever fall in love again?’

  ‘You never know,’ he gave a distant smile. ‘Recently

  I find all the good ones are married.’ They both laughed.

  ‘Don’t rush into marriage,’ she warned. ‘It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.’

  ‘Simon doesn’t sound like such a bad guy.’ Tom handed her her coat. ‘You two will work this out.’

  ‘Hopefully,’ Claire grimaced.

  ‘Will you be okay?’ he hugged her.

  ‘Yep,’ she tried to smile optimistically. ‘I’ll be in touch. You’ll have to come out with me and my friend Anna – she’s mad.’

  ‘Well, I’ll look forward to a wild night out with the pair of ye so. Take care, Claire, and remember I’m always at the other end of the phone.’

  ‘Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?’ Simon’s face was thunderous.

  ‘I was out.’

  ‘Well, that was obvious. Out where?’

  ‘With a friend.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘A guy called Tom,’ Claire said wearily.

  ‘Tom?’ Simon’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘He’s a friend of Emma’s.’

  ‘And it was just the two of you, was it?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Claire snapped.

  ‘You’re unbelievable, do you know that, Claire?’ Simon went to put on his coat.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Out.’

  ‘If you go out, don’t bother coming back,’ Claire threatened.

  ‘Why? What are you planning on doing? Changing the locks?’

  ‘Well, I hadn’t thought about it but maybe I will.’

  ‘Tell me now if you are. Because if you are, I’ll need to stay with a friend.’

  ‘You could stay with Shelley.’ Claire’s voice was beginning to shake.

  ‘Indeed I could.’

  ‘GET OUT,’ she screamed.

  ‘What is the matter with you?’

  ‘I said get out!’

  The door slammed. Quickly she bolted the locks. She didn’t care if he never came home.

  She rang Anna.

  ‘Oh hi,’ Anna sounded exhausted.

  ‘You don’t sound too pleased to hear from me,’ Claire said irritably.

  ‘Sorry . . . it’s just that I was expecting somebody else.’

  ‘A man?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Emmet? Jake? Steve? Rich?’

  ‘No’

  ‘Mark?’

  ‘No, a guy called Darren.’

  ‘Do you not think you’re getting a bit old for this kind of carry on?’ C
laire asked rather uncharitably.

  ‘I’m sorry, Claire,’ her friend retorted, ‘that I’m not as happily married as you.’

  ‘Don’t mind me, Anna, I know I’m being irritable. I’ve a lot on my mind that’s all.’

  ‘Is it Andrew? Is he sick?’

  ‘No, it’s Simon and he is sick. Sick in the head.’

  ‘No he’s not,’ Anna laughed.

  ‘He is. He’s having an affair. With Shelley. And I’m leaving him, Anna. I’ve had enough.’

  ‘Leaving Simon? Are you mad? Simon’s so good for you. And he’s your husband, remember? Most women would kill to get their hands on someone like him.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Claire said grimly. ‘Women like Shelley.’

  ‘But where would you go?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You can’t come here.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘Ah come on, Claire, don’t be like that. You couldn’t bring Andrew here. Aoife’s studying for her finals.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘No, you don’t see at all. In fact you’re acting pretty weird at the moment.’

  ‘Of course I’m acting weird. My husband is having an affair and I’m supposed to carry on like everything is normal, am I?’

  ‘You’re being ridiculous.’

  ‘I am not being ridiculous. But I can’t expect you to help me. You’ve a man in your life now so everything is fine. The whole world can fuck off when there’s a man on the scene, right?’

  ‘Jesus, I can’t believe you’re being such a bitch.’

  ‘I can’t turn to anybody else,’ Claire sounded distraught. ‘Everybody hates me. Even Tom doesn’t want to know.’

  ‘Who the hell is Tom?’

  ‘Just a friend.’

  ‘Claire, you don’t have any male friends.’

  ‘I do now.’

  ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you . . . you didn’t snog this Tom fella, did you?’

  Claire didn’t answer.

  ‘Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you slept with . . .’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ Claire snapped.

  ‘But you thought about it, didn’t you?’

  ‘I might have.’

  ‘Jesus, Claire, there is something wrong. Don’t do anything stupid until Friday. I’ll come up to see you at the weekend.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Anna put the phone down. It rang again immediately.

  ‘Claire?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said the bemused male voice.

  ‘Try again.’

  ‘Darren,’ she grinned. ‘Good to hear from you.’

  ‘I’m taking you to Paris.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘First-class tickets. Friday night.’

  ‘Friday? Oh no, I can’t go this Friday.’

  ‘Right,’ He sounded disappointed.

  ‘Sorry, it’s just that something urgent has come up.’

  ‘Bummer.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You can’t get out of it?’

  ‘No,’ was Anna’s firm reply. Difficult as it was to turn him down, friendship had to come first. She wasn’t going to give Claire the chance to fault her again. ‘I’m sorry, there’s no way I can go.’

  ‘Well, I’ll catch you again,’ he said. ‘Bye bye.’ Anna stared at the phone in near disbelief. Had she really just gone and turned down the trip of a lifetime with Ireland’s sexiest man in favour of a night in with the moaning Claire? Jesus, she needed her head examined.

  All her life she’d waited for Mr Right to whisk her off into the sunset and make her dreams come true. Tonight was the closest she’d ever come to that. And she’d blown it. For Claire. Claire who thought the world owed her a lot and spent most of her life trapped in some kind of bubble. Damn Claire and her silly hallucinations. A guy as solid as Simon didn’t just go off and have an affair.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  ‘I cancelled the trip to Paris,’ Darren was on the phone to Anna first thing the following morning.

  ‘Not on my account, I hope,’ Anna replied coyly.

  ‘Paris can wait. But I can’t wait . . . to see you. I miss you. I can’t get you out of my head.’

  ‘Really?’ Anna was flabbergasted.

  ‘Can I meet you Saturday afternoon?’

  ‘Sure,’ Anna said coolly while hugging the phone in delight, ‘Saturday is fine.’

  How the tables have turned for you, Anna Allstone, she thought as she whizzed through Salthill in her newly delivered company car. Only a few weeks ago you were being given the run-around by a bunch of useless eejits. Now look at you. With a guy like Darren practically eating out of your hand.

  But back to reality she was seriously worried about Claire. Her friend was obviously suffering from some kind of post-natal depression or something. But in fairness Andrew had been born quite a while ago. Surely that couldn’t be it.

  Anyway, whatever it was, Anna was sure she could sort it all out.

  Anna was particularly good at sorting out other people’s problems.

  She wondered when would be the best time to invite Darren to the party. It was important not to scare him off with too many invitations. Then again it was just a party, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like she was dragging him along to meet her parents or anything like that. And it was vital that he kept the weekend free.

  Anna parked outside the side door of Lolta’s and let herself in.

  The store was empty.

  She turned on the lights and deactivated the alarm.

  The phone was ringing.

  ‘Good morning, Lolta’s?’

  ‘Anna, is that you?’ a sharp voice barked down the line.

  Jesus, it was June bloody Neelane. Was there no escaping that wagon?

  ‘Yes it is.’ Anna tried to keep her voice even.

  ‘Slight change of plans I’m afraid, Anna. Miss Browne has been taken to hospital due to illness and I’ve nobody to man the store this weekend apart from you. I trust you’ll do a good job and we’ll owe you another day off at a later date.’

  ‘But June, I . . .’

  ‘You’ll be more than capable, Anna. This is a good opportunity to prove yourself, remember. I’ll be at the other end of the phone as always, of course.’

  The bloody bitch! Anna stared at the dead phone, stunned. It was as if June knew she’d made plans for the weekend. This was a disaster. Claire would kill her for not meeting her and as for Darren . . . well, she could more or less kiss him goodbye. He wouldn’t be sitting in watching TV while she ran around like a headless chicken trying to run a store at the other end of the country.

  She rang Claire who was predictably devastated and said something daft like not knowing how she’d get through another weekend on her own.

  ‘On your own?’ Anna wasn’t terribly sympathetic.

  ‘You’ve a husband, Claire, and you need to start communicating with him.’

  ‘I’d communicate with him if he was bloody well here.’

  ‘Well, ring the Samaritans so.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I mean it, Claire, they’re brilliant. They’ll just listen and you can get everything off your chest.’

  ‘But I’m not suicidal.’

  ‘You don’t have to be. Just ring them. I’ll talk to you later, okay?’

  Anna hung up the phone and sighed. If Claire worked as a retail manager she’d soon know the true meaning of drama. She rang Darren’s mobile but it was switched off.

  On Friday, everything that could have gone wrong, did. The computers went completely ballistic and a record eight staff called in sick. A lorry load of goods was delivered and lay scattered around the stockroom waiting for someone to have a serious accident.

  But Anna coped. Somehow.

  Back at the flat she poured herself a double G&T and switched on The Late Late Show. Her aching stockinged feet deserved a break.

  Aoife had gone hom
e for the weekend and the place was strangely quiet. Anna settled into the sofa and listened to some Irish ‘lollipop’ singer crooning into the microphone. The singing sensation was horribly made up with circles under her eyes. Anna was afraid her ginormous head would topple over any minute. God, there was terrible pressure on women in the public eye to starve, wasn’t there?

  Come to think of it, Anna hadn’t eaten much herself over the last few days. There was nothing like a heavy work schedule to keep the calories at bay.

  The singing head left the stage and suddenly Pat Kenny was shaking some politician’s hand. Yawn!

  Then out of the blue the doorbell rang. Anna’s heart leaped.

  The clock said ten-thirty.

  Who in the name of God was outside?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  ‘Hi, is that Claire?’

  ‘Yes it is.’ Claire didn’t recognize the voice. ‘Er . . . who’s this?’

  ‘Alice . . . remember from school?’

  ‘Alice Flinton! How could I forget? Are you back for a break or what?’

  ‘I’m back for good actually, five years of living in the city that never sleeps wears you out eventually.’

  ‘Where did you get my new number?’

  ‘Your mum. She was saying you’re well married now with a son and all. I believe he’s beautiful.’

  ‘Yes he is,’ Claire said proudly. ‘You have to come over and see him.’

  ‘I’d love to.’

  ‘Come over tonight, why don’t you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be intruding, would I?’

  ‘Ah no,’ Claire said lightly. As if !

  ‘I’m dying to meet Simon too,’ Alice enthused, ‘I heard he’s a wild thing.’

  Wild? Simon? Ah no. She must be mistaking him for someone else. ‘Er . . . who told you that?’ Claire asked hesitantly.

  ‘Oh, it’s just that my sister Ellie, her friend works in the same firm. She raves about him so she does.’

  ‘And what’s her name?’ Claire emitted faintly.

  ‘Shelley, Shelley Riffley, a striking-looking girl I must say . . . tall, long dark hair, long . . .’

  ‘I know her,’ Claire cut in. ‘And she thinks Simon’s great, does she?’

  ‘Says it’s a pity there aren’t more men like him about. Poor Shelley. Her love life has always been a bit of a disaster. She––’