City Girl

by Patricia Scanlan

  When her mother-in-law saw that she wasn’t ready, she frowned. ‘Aren’t you changing? You’d want to hurry – we’ll be late!’ she remonstrated.

  ‘I’m not going. I’m too tired,’ Caroline informed her crisply.

  ‘Oh come on now, Caroline. You’ll feel much better when you’re showered and dressed,’ Sarah said authoritatively.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Caroline’s tone was quietly firm. She’d had enough of the Yates family for one day.

  ‘Well really!’ expostulated Sarah huffily. ‘Richard’s gone to a lot of trouble to get these tickets for you. The least you could do is come with us.’

  That’s right – start trying to make me feel guilty. Well tonight I just don’t care. I just want to be alone . . . I just want a drink, Caroline thought determinedly. She was dying for a drink. She hadn’t had one all day and if they didn’t go soon, she didn’t care, she was going to have one sent up from the bar.

  Finally, with freezingly polite goodbyes, they went and she was deliciously, delightfully alone. Ordering a bottle of vodka from room service, she ran a hot bubble-bath. Her clothes were stuck to her skin after the long day of travel and shopping. It was so good to get out of them. Her vodka arrived and, clutching it to her bosom, she slid gratefully into the bath. It was pure bliss. As she lay in the warm sudsy water sipping her third drink she realized with surprise that she was hungry. The vodka had started to work; she no longer felt tense and strung out so she decided to make the most of her precious few hours of freedom. A peaceful meal was just what she needed.

  Dressing in a soft baby-pink angora dress that clung to her slender figure like a glove, she lightly made up her face, sprayed some White Linen on her neck and wrists, had another drink and glided down to the dining room, untroubled – thanks to the vodka – by any feelings of guilt about missing the show. The dining room of the luxurious hotel was quite full but the head waiter showed her to a table in a discreet alcove. The meal was delicious: melon with Sauternes followed by poached salmon in a creamy chervil sauce and crisp lightly-cooked vegetables. This banquet was concluded with the most deliciously sinful mouthwatering chocolate gateau she had ever eaten. Everything was washed down with a carafe of light sparkling wine.

  Utterly relaxed, Caroline strolled past the bar on her way to the elevator and on impulse decided to have a nightcap. She didn’t want to go back to her lonely room. To hell with it! Everyone else was enjoying the season that was in it. So would she!

  Caroline ordered a double brandy, enjoying its comfort, enjoying the soothing hum of conversation that rippled around her, oblivious of the many admiring glances that were coming her way. A tall distinguished-looking man who had been drinking alone at the bar came over and offered to buy her a drink.

  ‘Why not?’ she said gaily, her inhibitions completely overcome by the alcohol she had already consumed. He was Spanish and his accent was vaguely reminiscent of Paulo, her Portuguese boyfriend of so long ago. The way his black glittering eyes admired her sent delicious tingles of longing through her body. Since her marriage to Richard she had begun to feel almost sexless.

  ‘What is a beautiful woman like you doing all alone in a big bad city like London?’ her Spanish admirer wanted to know as he handed her the brandy she had ordered.

  ‘I’m a business woman, Señor . . . ?’

  ‘Forgive me, I did not introduce myself. I am Ramon Santander Rameriez. And you?’

  Caroline smiled at the handsome man sitting beside her. He was just gorgeous, she decided. So dark and Latin, virile-looking, warm, admiring, everything her husband was not.

  ‘I’m Caroline Stacey,’ she said, giving her maiden name, ‘and I work selling holiday properties all over Europe for an auctioneering firm. That’s why I’m in London at the moment.’ She gave a little giggle at her fibs. Well it sounded much more interesting than saying she was a stuck-at-home housewife.

  ‘How fascinating,’ Ramon murmured, his black eyes observing her admiringly.

  ‘What do you do?’ she asked, staring right back at him.

  ‘Oh I’m a diplomat. I’m en route to the UN. I had some meetings in London,’ he informed her lightly. Caroline loved his sexily accented voice and the way he looked at her with such warmth.

  ‘That must be very exciting,’ she responded, smiling back with just as much admiration herself.

  ‘To a degree,’ he said and raised a dark eyebrow, ‘but you know yourself, a life of travel is a very lonely one.’

  ‘Oh very,’ she agreed, believing her own fantasy in her intoxicated state. Recklessly she consumed the next brandy he ordered for her, basking in his admiration as her mood became even more gay and lighthearted, and her head a little light.

  He was the most entertaining man she had ever met and she laughed and flirted with him quite uninhibitedly. By the time he had asked her back to his room, she was more than willing, excited by the desire in his heavy-lidded eyes. ‘To hell with Richard and frustration,’ she muttered, her words slurring.

  Ramon laughed. ‘I’ll drink to that, Carolina mia. Let’s have some fun.’ He led her along the hotel corridor; they were giggling and laughing as they went. She hoped his room was over theirs. Tonight she was going to get royally laid and right at this moment she couldn’t care less if Richard was kept awake by the rattling of the bedsprings.

  Her memories of the night were a blurry haze of pleasure. For the second time in her life she realized she had intense feelings below her neckline. The throbbings and tinglings of pure pleasure that she experienced made her want more, and she kissed and caressed uninhibitedly, much to her lover’s delight. He was an experienced man and brought her to several powerful orgasms, each time making her cry aloud with pleasure as years of frustration were wiped away and she realized all that she had been missing. They drank more brandy and made love in the shower, and on the floor and once again in bed where she finally passed out in a satiated stupor.

  When Caroline awoke her head felt like a ton of bricks and she was alone. A note pinned to the pillow next to her said ‘Gracias, Cara mia; you were the best lover I’ve known. If ever you are in my part of the world, contact me. Yours with gratitude, Ramon.’ He left a number.

  Oh God Almighty, what did I do? she thought weakly, trying to put the night’s events back into focus. Memories came flooding back and she blushed as she remembered her wanton behaviour. Her fingers holding the note trembled. A thought struck her. Maybe she was pregnant! He hadn’t used a condom. An even worse thought came to mind. Oh God! Just say she had contracted AIDS! He most certainly had slept around. Just one act of unprotected intercourse could cause a person to become infected. She’d seen the ads on TV. What on earth was she going to do? She made her way to the bathroom and another thought struck her. Caroline stared at herself in the mirror. She looked wild-eyed and frantic, her face pale and hungover. She wasn’t in her own room. How was she going to explain her absence to Richard? He’d wallop the daylights out of her. A vicious hammering at her temples made her groan. She couldn’t think about all this now – she’d have a shower first. She must try and gather her wits about her. Assuming that the room was paid for until midday she wrapped a sheet around her naked body and swiftly hung the Do not Disturb sign on the outside of the door. Heart in her mouth, her hands shaking, she stood under the steaming jets of water. She’d have to have a drink before facing Richard.

  She only meant to have one drink, one to give her courage, but an hour later she had polished off the remainder of the brandy and was quite drunk again as she finally made her way to Richard’s room. Caroline gave a delicate little hiccup as she eased the bedroom door open. In the bed, Richard stirred and his arctic eyes flew open.

  ‘Where the . . . ?’

  ‘I spent the night with a man,’ she informed him airily, cutting off his tirade before he had a chance to begin. She was feeling no pain – the brandy had been a life saver. Richard’s stubble-lined jaw sagged in amazement.

  ‘Yesh Rhichard a r
eal man. And you know shomthing?’ She hiccuped again. ‘Ish was a real pleasure . . .’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Richard flew out of bed. ‘You’re as drunk as a skunk. If mother sees you . . . !’

  Caroline giggled, went to sit on the bed, missed and landed on the floor.

  ‘Thash all you’re worried about . . . your Mammie.’

  ‘Shut up, you stupid bitch,’ he hissed, but she was too drunk to care. All she wanted to do was to sleep. Dragging her up from the floor, Richard pushed her under the bedclothes, pulled off her shoes and stood glaring at her. ‘Stay there and sleep it off. I’ll tell Mother you’ve a migraine.’

  ‘Tell her what you like,’ mumbled Caroline and passed out. There she stayed all that day with Richard hopping in and out every so often like a cat on a hot tin roof. Later, she undressed and got into bed properly, sinking back into oblivion in the warm comfort of the bed. By evening she had recovered somewhat and was able to eat a little dry toast and drink some tea. The fumes of brandy emanating from her pores decided Richard that his mother could not come in and see her. Not that she particularly wanted to see Sarah Yates.

  She couldn’t think straight. Richard hadn’t spoken one word to her apart from asking her if she wanted something to eat. And so she lay in her bed, hungover and frantic with worry about what might result from her night of debauchery. To think that she had allowed herself to be picked up in a bar by a stranger, albeit a very charming sexy stranger. Or, had she picked him up? Either way she had behaved very badly, even if she had enjoyed every minute of it.

  Richard did not refer to the subject at all. All he wanted to do was to get home. He was petrified that Sarah might find out about Caroline’s drinking problem. Maybe she was dreaming but Caroline thought she heard him ringing Charles Stokes as she passed in and out of her drunken stupor. ‘She’s back but she’s in the fuckin’ horrors again, Charles. What the hell am I going to do?’ she thought she heard him say. But she must have been imagining it. Richard never used bad language!

  They flew home the next day with Sarah complaining bitterly about all they had missed doing because of Caroline’s migraine. Richard was so harassed he actually told his mother to hush up. And the look of outraged horror on her mother-in-law’s face gave Caroline a brief moment of pleasure. They deposited Sarah in strained silence at her front door and declined her invitation to stay for tea. Then they drove in silence to the penthouse.

  ‘Richard, I . . . I just don’t know what to say.’ Now that she was sober, remorse had set in.

  ‘Just say nothing,’ he said shortly. ‘I don’t want to hear any of it.’

  ‘Oh God, Richard!’ she burst out. ‘I just can’t stand this. We haven’t got a marriage. You’ve never made love to me. Is it me? Why did you marry me? Why?’ She was almost incoherent.

  ‘Be quiet! Be quiet. I can’t think straight, damn it!’ he swore, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

  Caroline was crying now, shuddering sobs that shook her slender body.

  ‘Stop! stop it, for God’s sake, Caroline. Someone will see,’ he muttered miserably.

  ‘I don’t care, Richard! I just don’t care any more.’

  ‘Well, I do. I don’t want people talking about us,’ her husband said tightly as he parked the car.

  ‘Oh you and your image. Your goddam bloody image. That’s all you care about!’ Caroline spat bitterly as she rooted in her bag for a tissue. Blowing her nose and wiping her eyes, she said quietly, ‘What happened in London would never have happened if you had ever shown me one moment of loving tenderness. I’m only human, Richard.’

  His lips tightened. ‘I’ve given you a damned sight more than Maggie’s or any of your friends’ husbands have given them.’

  Caroline laughed scornfully. ‘Grow up, Richard. Material things mean nothing. I suppose beating the shit out of me is a sign of your great love for me. I wish to God I had never met you.’

  He reddened. ‘I . . . I . . . oh, what’s the use. Just get out and leave me alone,’ he muttered inadequately, unable to meet her eyes.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked dully.

  ‘I . . . I have to go over and discuss some briefs with Charles.’

  ‘Charles! he sees more of you than I do. But don’t, for heaven’s sake, let our little marital crisis interfere with your briefs.’

  ‘Leave Charles out of it,’ Richard growled. ‘And for Christ’s sake keep away from the drink while I’m gone. If you’re not careful you’re going to have a big problem.’

  ‘And that wouldn’t be good for your image, darling, would it?’

  ‘Shut up Caroline, I’m warning you!’

  She was shaking now. Never before had they fought or argued like this. She realized just how bitter she felt and it was as if it was all spilling out like lava from a volcano. ‘Go to hell!’ she swore, getting out of the car and slamming the door.

  Twenty-nine

  Caroline had told her husband to go to hell that night but it was as though she had descended into its Godforsaken pits herself. The next months were the most lonely and frightening of her existence. The strain of their unhappy marriage caused her such mental anguish and depression that she began to have frequent panic attacks and she would lie in her lonely bed, her heart pounding so loudly that she could hear nothing else. Shaking, she would retrace every step of their relationship, her thoughts racing, unable to sleep, wide-eyed with worry and fear. Would this be the way her life would be from now on? Had she developed AIDS? What would happen if she left her husband? Would she end up in Ballymun like Devlin? Was her heart going to explode?

  Questions, questions, questions. She had no answers. Each morning she would awake and the cloud of fear would settle on her and the thought of getting up and facing the ordeal of another day would be unbearable. Drinking didn’t help, it only made the fear worse, so in desperation she went to Doctor Cole and begged him to give her Valium.

  ‘Caroline, you need treatment for your drinking and for your mental state. Valium is not the answer.’

  ‘Please, Doctor Cole. I’m afraid.’

  ‘Afraid of what? Are you afraid of Richard beating you up?’

  Caroline shook her head. How could she explain all her fears to this kind harassed man?

  ‘You can’t go on like this,’ he reasoned. ‘Let me send you to a nursing home for treatment and a rest and you can think about your future. There has to be more to your life than this. Don’t start depending on Valium. Stop depending on drink. They’re only crutches for a while, then they collapse under you.’ He smiled kindly at her. ‘How about trying to depend on yourself for a change. In the end you know the only person you can truly depend upon is yourself, but don’t make the mistake many people make. Depending on yourself doesn’t mean that you’re alone. You’ve got Devlin and Maggie and I’m here. Now go and confront your problems and make some decisions about your life. It’s the only one you’ve got, you know.’

  She knew what he was saying was the truth but she wasn’t ready to face it. Eventually after several more visits where she refused outright to see anyone else or go to a nursing home, he had written the prescription she had asked for.

  The Valium helped a little. She managed to keep herself calm for her weekly visits to Devlin and sometimes she felt that if it wasn’t for Devlin and Maggie she would go completely insane. Both of them had asked her outright what was wrong with her. Stubbornly, she refused to confide in them. She couldn’t bear for them to know of the failure of her marriage, and of the shameful event that had occurred in London. Both of them seemed to be able to handle their own not inconsiderable problems; she’d just have to handle hers. Caroline knew they were worried about her. She worried about them too but this was something that not even Devlin and Maggie could help her with; so on the days she visited she tried to keep the best side up and with them she was able for a while to forget the misery of her empty existence.

  She and Devlin would sometimes take the baby and go off for the da
y if the weather was fine. ‘Let’s go for a jaunt,’ Devlin would say and Caroline would laugh. Since she had gone to live in Ballymun Devlin had picked up some really colourful colloquialisms which she loved to try out on Caroline. They would usually go to Howth, their favourite destination. Caroline loved Howth. It made her feel as though she was abroad. They would explore the village and around it, wandering along narrow winding roads that were dotted with magnificent houses and a great variety of pubs and restaurants, all with beautiful views of the harbour and Ireland’s Eye. The trawlers sailing in and out, the seagulls circling and screaming as the catches of the day were unloaded, reminded her of the fishing villages of Portugal and she would sit and close her eyes and pretend she was a million miles away.

  She had often dined with Richard in Howth, and now that he had been accepted as a member of the yacht club she expected to be socializing in the peculiar new building that had been erected in the marina. The thought thrilled her not one whit! She was much happier to be out with Devlin and the baby, dressed in a pair of jeans and a teeshirt and exploring the beauty of Balscadden Bay and having a picnic after the exhilarating climb to the summit. Devlin was like her life-support system. Some day she would tell her about her marriage and her drinking but not now.