“Not exactly,” she compromised. “I just wondered how you felt about it, that’s all.”
“I guess I want kids someday,” said Ben. “And I bet Brian would love ’em. He’d probably be really good father material.”
“You think so?” Freya frowned. “Surely he’s as picky as me about stuff. Don’t you think he’d freak out if he found toys lying round the house or if he was asked to change a dirty nappy?”
“Just because he mightn’t like the trappings — and don’t tell me that you wouldn’t freak out at a dirty nappy, Freya Russell — it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want the children,” said Ben. “Maybe most men are better at family stuff when they get older. You know, when we finally mature at age fifty or something!”
“D’you think so?”
“I’m probably the worst person in the world to ask,” said Ben. “But yes.”
Freya dumped another sachet of sugar into her coffee.
“Is there a problem with Brian over it?” Ben rephrased his earlier question.
“Who knows?” she responded. “Seriously — what would you have said if Carey didn’t want children and you did?”
“I’ve no idea,” said Ben. “Look, Freya, we didn’t get that far in our relationship, OK?” He shrugged. “We talked and talked about loads of things but never that.”
“Did you ever talk to Leah about it?”
“God, no.”
“Will you?” asked Freya.
Ben looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know yet.”
“Don’t string her along again.” Freya pushed her cup to one side. “She deserves better than that.”
“I know.” He nodded. “I just don’t want to make another mistake. But Leah and I keep coming back to each other and that has to count for something.”
“She rang me,” Freya told him.
“Oh?”
“I called her and told her about you and Carey and I was really quite short with her. And she got upset, understandably, I suppose. Then she phoned back the next day to say that she absolutely didn’t mean for anything to happen, and that the fact that it did might have proved something to her but she wasn’t going to do anything about it.”
“Not quite true,” said Ben. “She called round to see me.”
“And?”
“And nothing,” he said. “She was just Leah. And it was nice to have her fussing round me instead of that mad whirlwind spinning around the place.”
Freya laughed. “Maybe we’re neither of us good with whirlwinds,” she said. “You could never accuse Brian of being one.”
“No.” Ben laughed too. “So are you actually going to announce your engagement, Freya, or are you just going to get married?”
“We haven’t decided yet,” she said. “But there hardly seems any point in getting engaged.” She wrinkled her forehead. “I’d like the ring, though.”
“You women are all the same!” cried Ben. “It’s jewelry all the way!”
“Once you remember that, you won’t go too far wrong,” said Freya as she got up from the table.
“Now she gives me the important advice,” groaned Ben.
When Carey walked into the control center the following afternoon Chris Brady asked her if she’d mind taking her shift in the tower. She smiled at him and told him that she’d be happy to. She rarely got to work in the tower these days, but she always enjoyed it. While air traffic control centers didn’t have to be anywhere near an airport (and many of them were, in fact, being located further and further away), the tower was the place where the whole jigsaw of arrivals and departures came together. From their vantage point in the glass room the controllers could see the spread of the airport and its runways and watch every plane that landed and took off.
Carey took the lift to the top of the tower and then the short flight of stairs into the control room with its panoramic views of the surrounding countryside as well as the airport itself.
“Hello, there!” She hadn’t seen Jennifer O’Carroll in ages. “Still seducing them with your husky Mariella tones, Jen?”
“You know me,” said Jennifer. “The honey-pot of the airwaves.”
Ciaran Geoghegan, the ground controller working with her, spoke into his mike. “Shamrock 156, ground, start-up approved. ATIS J is current. Expect Runway One Zero for departure.”
Carey knew that she’d take over from Jennifer after the Aer Lingus plane had taken off. Gerry Ferguson, who was taking over with her, had also arrived. They stood and watched as Ciaran instructed the Aer Lingus plane to taxi to the holding point.
An incoming British Airways plane touched down and Jennifer pulled her baseball cap tighter on her head as it thundered along the runway. “He’s going to miss his turnoff if he doesn’t hold it up a bit quicker,” she said. “What the fuck does he think he’s doing?” She clicked her mike. “Tower, Speedbird 349, turn right at end of runway if able. If not, please proceed to M1 motorway and take airport exit from roundabout.”
Carey shook with laughter as the clipped tones of the British Airways pilot informed them that he hoped to be able to make the correct turn off the runway. “And no need to be sarcastic, Mariella,” he added to Jennifer.
“Oh, it’s things like this that make the job so exciting.” Jennifer unplugged her headset and got up. “Have a nice day, Browne. By the way, are you entering the bowling league?”
“I don’t know,” said Carey. “I’m hopeless at it and I’m up to my neck at the moment. I moved into my new apartment this morning.”
“I heard you’d bought a place,” said Jennifer. “I hope you’re going to have a really good housewarming.”
“Maybe.” Carey grinned at her. “But maybe I don’t want my lovely new home trashed by irresponsible ATCs.”
“Irresponsible my arse,” said Jennifer. “Haven’t I just got that hulking great 747 off the runway with flair and precision, and without leaving you to deal with the headache of a blocked runway and irate pilots?”
“You’re so sweet! And I’ll let you know about the party,” said Carey as she slid into the seat. Of course, before she had a party she’d have to kit out the apartment, something she’d intended to make a start on the previous day but which, thanks to Peter’s intervention, she hadn’t got round to yet. It had taken ages to get to Swords that morning and retrieve her car from the car park beside The Old Schoolhouse, then to go back to Blanchardstown to collect her stuff. By the time she’d brought it all to the apartment, she’d only just managed to rush into Dunnes Stores and buy a few bits and pieces (including bed linen) before heading off to the airport for her shift. Part of her was annoyed that she’d allowed herself to spend the whole day with Peter. Getting to know him again. Getting to like him again. Feeling herself drawn by his charm and made careless by the effects of the alcohol.
So careless that she had allowed him to take her in his arms when they got into his house the previous evening. And to hold her face between his hands and kiss her, very gently, on the lips. And then she’d let herself kiss him back, familiarizing herself again with how accomplished a kisser he was, and she’d put her arms around him, hugging him to her. She’d allowed his fingers to slide from her cheeks to her breasts and she’d allowed him to unbutton the cotton shirt she’d been wearing. She’d responded to the touch of his hand and the taste of his kisses, but she’d finally pulled away from him and told him that she wasn’t ready. He’d looked at her with frustration in his eyes and had asked her what the hell the matter was. They were both adults, he said. They were both free agents. So it wasn’t as though either of them was betraying anyone now, was it?
“It’s not that.” She stood uneasily in front of him twisting closed the buttons of her shirt.
“What then?” he asked.
“I just — can’t!”
“You don’t think that your ex-husband isn’t doing exactly this with that girl?” asked Peter harshly. “You don’t think he isn’t getting what he wants, do you?”
“I’ve
no idea what Ben is doing,” said Carey shakily. “And he’s not my ex-husband yet. Sandra isn’t your ex-wife either.”
“Stop splitting hairs,” said Peter.
Carey winced.
“I thought you wanted it,” said Peter. “I wouldn’t have done anything if I hadn’t thought that.”
“I’m not ready,” Carey told him unhappily. “I’m sorry, I really am. If I was…if there was anyone…well, I care about you a lot. But I —”
Then he’d leaned towards her and placed his index finger over her lips. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Forget about it.”
He went into his bedroom and closed the door firmly behind him.
“Delta 207, cleared for takeoff, contact departure on 118.6.” She glanced out of the tinted windows at the Delta plane shimmering in the sunlight. She watched it gather speed as it rolled along the runway and lifted into the air.
“Tower, Delta 207, switching to Departure. By the way, after we lifted off we saw some kind of dead animal on the far end of the runway.”
Carey made a face and turned to her next plane. “Shamrock 165, cleared for takeoff, contact departure on 118.6. Did you copy that report from Delta?”
“Shamrock 165, cleared for takeoff, roger. Yes, we copied Delta and we’ve informed our caterers that they left something behind.”
Carey laughed. “Thank you, Shamrock.”
Gerry Ferguson, who was sitting beside her, looked at her in disgust. “Those guys are fucking revolting.”
“Oh, come on, Gerry.” She grinned. “Dead badger is probably a delicacy somewhere.”
Although Carey enjoyed her shift in the tower, she was also glad when it finished. She got into her car (still packed with her morning’s shopping) and drove to her apartment. She hurried inside the building and opened her door. Everything was exactly as she’d left it the previous day. Going back out to the car, she unloaded her stuff. She hung her clothes in her built-in wardrobes and stacked her set of black and white crockery in the kitchen cupboards. Finally she filled the kettle and switched it on.
While she was waiting for it to boil she went out and stood on the balcony. The night air held the merest hint of warmth.
“My place,” she said as she heard the kettle click off. “My place. No one else’s.”
She turned back into the apartment and made herself a cup of coffee. As she walked from room to room, she acknowledged that she hadn’t felt this sense of security and ownership in Ben’s house. In the second bedroom she stopped and looked at her pile of shoe boxes. At least there was room for them here and she didn’t have to feel guilty about them cluttering up the place. Her mobile phone buzzed to alert her to a text message. She picked it up and read it.
“Sleep well, miss u. Luv Peter.”
She smiled and simply replied, “Tks.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
BERGAMOT
This is a light oil with a calming effect and a fruity scent
Although one of the benefits of her shift rota was that she could go into town at off-peak times and so miss the weekend crowds, Carey got up early the next morning and drove into the city anyway. Her Saturday shift didn’t start until nine that evening and she wanted to potter round places like Habitat, where, according to Gina, there was a fantastic sale on, and Stock Design, who were advertising a new range of pots and pans, to look at things for the apartment. She felt that she was possibly going a bit overboard, but Gina had told her not to be stupid — one of the joys of having a place of your own was spending far too much money on it.
She parked in the Dawson Street car park and cut through the Royal Hibernian Way (resolutely ignoring its designer boutiques) to Grafton Street, where she was instantly seduced by a pair of knock ’em dead burgundy stilettos in Carl Scarpa. She tried them on, they fitted perfectly, and as she handed over her credit card, she reminded herself forcefully that she must not visit Nine West or Bally or any of the other shoe shops on her way to the top of the street.
It was, she thought as she stepped out of the shop, very strange to walk along Grafton Street and ignore the footwear displays. Not surprisingly, there seemed to be hundreds of gorgeous pairs of shoes begging her to buy them today. “I will be strong,” she said out loud. “I will think only household thoughts.” Though the idea of her, Carey Browne, thinking longingly of tea-towels and wastepaper bins made her giggle.
She managed to get to Habitat without inflicting further shoe-related damage to her credit card and walked inside. It wasn’t a shop she’d ever bothered with before, but now she spent ages browsing round their displays, and she began to worry that she might find herself as equally enticed by sofas and coffee-tables as she was by shoes. She had to make herself walk by a really lovely black recliner which she knew would look stupid in the apartment even though it looked great in the shop. And she reminded herself that she actually possessed two sofas even though the new leather one she’d bought hadn’t been delivered yet. She worried at her lower lip as she thought about her multi-sofa state and wondered how she’d get rid of the one that was already in the apartment. It was actually quite comfortable. She wasn’t sure whether or not the leather one would even be as comfortable. Although it was clearly way more stylish.
She wandered down the stairs to the lighting department and was instantly charmed by a round orange table-light which gave off a warm glow. Perfect for the living area, she decided, and 10 percent off! She was also fascinated by a very utilitarian but totally modern stainless steel lamp. She stepped backwards to look at the lamp from a greater distance and bumped into the man behind her.
The sense of shock she felt when she realized that she’d stood on Ben Russell’s foot was overwhelming. She could hardly believe that after the events of the last few weeks, she would bump into him here in the middle of a furniture store, looking at a lighting display. In her most secret of dreams she’d imagined their next meeting to be at some as-yet-undecided function where she’d be guest of honor receiving an award for — she didn’t know, but something dramatic anyway — smiling coolly at him, acknowledging him but in a vague, half-remembering kind of way, and saying something witty yet slightly cutting so that he’d wonder why on earth he hadn’t loved her and cherished her the way she deserved to be loved and cherished. She simply couldn’t believe she’d met him in Habitat. It was far too mundane.
“Oh,” she said.
“Carey.”
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Looking at lights.”
“Me too,” she said.
“Obviously.”
“Yes, well, yes, obviously.”
They stared at each other in silence. She searched his face for signs of sleepless nights and worry but she couldn’t see any. He looked as handsome as ever, his eyes bright and carefree, his fair hair spiked with gel.
“I heard about the incident at the shop,” she said eventually. “It sounded very dramatic.”
“At the time it was,” he said.
“Why did they do it?” she asked. “Was it a burglary attempt?”
He explained about the two brothers. “I called into the hospital to see the younger one,” he told her. “Nice guy. Very apologetic.”
“Well, hopefully the insurance will cover you.”
“Yes,” said Ben.
“I saw the report on the news,” she added.
“Did you?”
“I would’ve rung…”
“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted her. “How’s work?”
“Oh, fine,” she said.
“Easier now that you’re on the northside of the city again?”
“Well, yes. More convenient.”
“Where are you living?”
“I bought an apartment,” she told him. “That’s why I’m here looking at lights.”
“Oh.” His eyes darkened. “Where?”
“Near Swords.”
�
�I hope you’ll be very happy,” he said.
“I hope so too.” I can’t believe we’re having this conversation, thought Carey. I made love to this man three times in one night. I stood naked with him in a Vegas swimming pool. I once told him that I loved him and meant it. And now we’re having a conversation about apartment locations. How did this happen?
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” His casual words broke in on her thoughts.
Carey felt a lump in her throat. “Yes, well, nobody’s fault.”
“Both our faults actually,” said Ben. “Too much unfinished business in our pasts.”
“Maybe.” Suddenly she wanted him to go. If he stayed she might cry, and she didn’t want to cry in front of him. If he thought that she was still in love with Peter Furness that was a good thing. She didn’t want to be his cast-off. One of his many cast-offs.
“We should have dealt with it better.”
“I tried,” she said tightly.
“By throwing shoes at me when I was in bed.”
“You shouldn’t have gone to bed.”
“I was tired. I thought you were tired. And overwrought.”
“You wouldn’t talk.”
“I didn’t think it was worth talking about.”
“Well, maybe not.” She tightened her grip on the Carl Scarpa bag. “After all, you were continuing your life exactly as it was before. I guess you thought I should too.”
“I never —”
“We’re starting again,” she interrupted him. “And we don’t need to argue, do we? It’s over. There’s no reason to fight.”
“I just want to be painted in my true light.”
“Don’t worry, I know what your true light is.”
“You’re so convinced you’re in the right all the time.”
“So are you.”
“That’s because…” He broke off. “Oh hell, Carey, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? You’re back living near the airport where you always wanted to be and I’m up to my neck re-fitting the shop. I suppose we’ll look back on it as a mad month in both our lives. Maybe someday we won’t even regret it.”
Too Good to Be True Page 30
