Too Good to Be True

by Sheila O'Flanagan

  “So his explanation for leaving you was satisfactory?” asked Maude.

  “He had some issues of his own,” Freya told her.

  “Issues?” Sylvia paused with her glass halfway to her mouth.

  Freya nodded and told them about Linnet.

  “And how do you feel about that?” Maude wanted to know. “After all, he has a child of his own and you know that you and he won’t have one. Can you cope with that?”

  She nodded again. “It isn’t exactly easy,” she admitted, “and I still get this aching feeling in the pit of my stomach sometimes. But I do know that I love Brian and I know he loves me too, and so…” She shrugged. “We can get through it together.”

  “I’m glad,” said Sylvia warmly.

  “It’s a great feeling,” said Freya, “to know that you love someone and they love you — and you love each other despite everything that’s happened!”

  “Or maybe because of it,” Sylvia said knowingly.

  “Why didn’t he say something about his daughter before now?” asked Maude.

  “He had his reasons and I accept them,” said Freya. “But he eventually told me everything because of Ben.”

  “Ben?” Maude and Sylvia spoke together.

  “He called to Brian’s house and punched him on the jaw.”

  “Freya!” Sylvia stared at her. “You’re saving the juiciest bit till last!”

  “I know.” Freya looked at them contritely. “I wasn’t sure whether or not I should mention Ben.”

  “Actually he’s not quite persona non grata among the Brownes at the moment,” said Sylvia. “Which I’ll tell you about in a minute. But come on, Freya, why did he punch Brian on the jaw?”

  Freya explained while Maude and Sylvia listened wordlessly.

  “Wow,” said Sylvia at the end. “I didn’t realize he was so — so determined.”

  “I didn’t realize he was such a bad fighter,” said Freya. “You should’ve seen him the next day!”

  “That explains it,” said Sylvia thoughtfully. “I knew he looked odd.”

  “Looked odd?” said Freya. “You met him?”

  “Quite recently,” said Sylvia, and related the tale of Jeanne’s all-night drinking session.

  “And they were both at Carey’s?” Freya shook her head. “You must have been out of your mind with worry, Sylvia.”

  “Demented,” said Sylvia. “But I have to say that Ben was great. So was Carey.”

  “He never said anything about it to me,” said Freya.

  “Maybe he was embarrassed,” suggested Maude.

  “Maybe he was being discreet about my wayward daughter,” Sylvia said.

  The three of them drained their glasses and looked at each other.

  “Is there any chance,” Freya said doubtfully, “that they might get back together?”

  “They looked very at ease with each other when I saw them,” said Sylvia.

  “But Carey’s going out with that other man again,” objected Maude.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Sylvia shuddered. “It was bad enough the first time, I couldn’t take it all over again.”

  “Neither could I,” said Freya. “Although…”

  “Although what?” asked Maude.

  “I don’t think I was as fair as I could’ve been to Carey,” Freya said. “I’d wanted to meet her and she was never round and I felt sorry for Leah —”

  “The girl he kissed?” Maude interrupted.

  Freya nodded. “I’d known her a long time. And so maybe I wasn’t as welcoming…”

  “Hey, it wasn’t your fault,” said Sylvia.

  “I know, but…” Freya sighed.

  “Look, let Carey and Ben worry about their own lives,” said Maude briskly. “The good thing that’s come out of everything is that we’ve met you, Freya. And it’s nice to be out celebrating with you tonight. So let’s concentrate on that and forget about everything else.”

  “Absolutely,” agreed Sylvia, and they trooped into the dining room to help Freya celebrate some more.

  Jennifer O’Carroll was going ballistic in the tower. The captain of an outbound flight to Paris had inexplicably taken the wrong taxiway to Runway One Zero despite her clear instructions, and was now in the way of a recently landed holiday flight from Majorca. The fact that the holiday flight couldn’t immediately turn off the runway, plus the fact that the Paris flight was now going to have to make a round trip back to the ramp before setting off again, meant that all other flights were being delayed. The pilot of the Majorcan plane was already bitching at Jennifer who was trying to work out the quickest way to unravel the mess.

  “Don’t fucking move,” she yelled at the hapless French captain, who requested further instructions. “Don’t fucking move until I tell you! And at that point, move exactly where I tell you, when I tell you.”

  The other controllers knew that later they’d laugh at Jennifer’s outburst, but right now they were busy assessing what to do with their incoming flights. Carey busily reissued instructions to the stack of planes she’d intended to bring in on Runway One Zero. Two Eight was the alternative, but the weather suited One Zero better, which was why it was in use that night. Still, as she muttered to herself, this was why the pilots were paid the big bucks. They were supposed to be able to land anywhere. And conditions weren’t really bad. Low cloud, persistent drizzle, and moderate winds, but nothing too awful.

  “Speedbird 2522, Dublin. Descend two thousand feet. Turn left heading 310. Establish on localizer. Report established.” Carey watched the blip of the plane on her screen while the captain of the flight repeated her instructions before turning her attention to the traffic behind. “Shamrock 165, Dublin. Descend three thousand feet. Turn left heading 340. Your position now is fifteen miles east of Dublin.”

  “Dublin, Lufthansa 1634, now established on the localizer.”

  The first plane in her stack was ready to be passed to the tower. She hoped that Jennifer would treat him kindly.

  “Lufthansa 1634, Dublin. Roger. Nine miles from touchdown. Cleared approach Runway Two Eight. Contact tower 118.3.”

  “Shamrock 165, Dublin. Descend two thousand feet. Turn further left heading 310, intercept localizer Runway Two Eight. Report established.”

  Suddenly the alarm in the control center went off. All of the controllers looked at their screens to see whether the problem was in their area. The siren always sounded when two planes were on a collision course. That happened more often than people thought, but usually because a controller had issued a set of instructions to one pilot and was in the process of issuing instructions to the other. The computerized alarm went off anyway. So the sound of the siren didn’t necessarily mean an actual crisis.

  But of course it could also signify a genuine emergency, perhaps one declared by the captain on board a flight. By looking at the call-sign on the radar the controllers could identify the type of emergency in question. Once a controller knew that the emergency was out of their area they ignored it. They had enough to worry about with their own planes without taking on concern for someone else’s.

  Finola Hartigan saw that it was a real problem and the plane concerned was under her control. It was a recently departed flight to Glasgow which had developed engine trouble and now the captain was requesting a return to Dublin. Finola gave him a new heading and watched her radar screen as the plane turned and descended. The instructions between Finola and the captain of the troubled flight were calm and businesslike. He knew what he had to do while she opened an exclusive approach vector for it.

  Forty miles out from Dublin, Finola transferred the plane to Carey on approach control. Trevor, the team’s co-ordinator, contacted the tower, who were responsible for ensuring the emergency services were informed. He also kept Chris Brady, the station manager, up to date with what was happening while Carey spoke to the captain. There was a lot of information she needed — the number of passengers and crew, fuel remaining, which engine had been shut down —
but she also wanted to keep her transmissions to a minimum so that the pilot could get on with what he had to do.

  Her other aircraft had been taken over by Chris Brady while she dealt with the emergency flight.

  “Is One Zero open yet?” she asked Trevor Hughes. “I’ll keep his options open, but I’d really like to bring him in that way if I can.”

  It was typical, she thought, that the night there was an emergency was also the night when an Airbus and a Boeing were nose to nose on the damn runway. She hoped that Jennifer and Gerry, who was working the tower with her, would rise to the occasion.

  “You’ve got One Zero,” said Trevor after speaking to Gerry.

  “Excellent.”

  Although she was totally focused on the incoming craft, Carey could feel the heightened tension in the control room. At this point the entire responsibility for the aircraft was hers. There was nothing anyone else could do. Carey knew she was in a zone and nothing could distract her. She did her job and expected anyone else involved to do theirs. Gerry Ferguson, in the tower, instructed the rescue vehicles to position themselves at the correct points nearby so that some of them could follow the plane once it had landed while others would be ready at the other end. Carey watched the green blip descend along the approach vector until the plane was no longer under her control but low enough to be passed to the tower.

  “Good luck,” she said to the pilot.

  “Thanks,” he replied briefly.

  When the control room heard that the plane had landed safely and that the passengers had been evacuated without any problems, she exchanged high fives with Chris, stretched her arms over her head, and went for her overdue break, where she knocked back a strong black coffee and devoured a Crunchie while Finola propped her feet up on the table in front of her.

  “Oh, there was never anything to worry about.” Now Finola unwrapped a Mars bar and took a bite. “Not with the top team in control.”

  “Your faith in our abilities — and the abilities of our beloved pilots — is touching.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” said Finola. “I have a bit of news for you, by the way.”

  “Oh?”

  “Dennis and I are getting married.”

  “Finola!” Carey looked at her friend in delight. “When?”

  “The end of the year,” said Finola.

  “I’m thrilled for you,” said Carey. “Good to know that you can live with someone for two years and still want to marry them.”

  Finola laughed. “We have an ulterior motive,” she said.

  “Which is?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “Finola!” This time Carey’s voice held a mixture of congratulation and query. “Planned?”

  “Not exactly,” admitted Finola, “but it’s been on our agenda. Dennis and I have been talking about getting married for a while, and then this news just crystallized it for us.”

  “I’m really pleased for you,” said Carey. “I bet you’ll be a great mother.”

  “Are you mad?” Finola laughed. “I’ll be a terrible mother. I’ll keep informing the poor child to establish itself in the pram and contact its father for further instructions.”

  Carey laughed too. “And he’ll refer the little mite back to you.”

  “I know. Still, I suppose we’ll manage.” She paused. “It’s a challenge.”

  “I’m sure you’re ready for it.”

  “I’m not so sure, to be honest,” admitted Finola. “But Dennis and I wanted a family at some point, so I guess it’s no harm to start now.”

  “What about work?” asked Carey.

  “I haven’t decided yet,” said Finola. “Maybe I’ll move out of control and into some other area. The shifts will be difficult. I know Yvette manages, but that girl is a superwoman.”

  “I know.” Carey nodded. “Well, I wish you the best of luck with the whole thing, Finola.”

  “Thanks,” said her friend. She finished the Mars bar and licked her fingers. “You may have noticed I’ve given up the fags. Unfortunately I’ve replaced them by eating chocolate, which I’m sure is terribly unhealthy. But I can’t help myself.”

  “I wouldn’t worry,” advised Carey. “My sister Sylvia gorged herself on popcorn during her last pregnancy.”

  “Did she?” Finola looked interested. “I wonder if there’s a reason for that? Was she deficient in some vitamin or other?”

  Carey shrugged. “No idea.”

  “Of course, your soon-to-be-ex is a vitamin expert, isn’t he?” asked Finola.

  “Yes,” replied Carey. “And feel free to ransack his shop for folic acid or whatever it is you mothers need. Unfortunately, though, the soon-to-be-ex part is going to take longer than I thought.” She told Finola about the four-year divorce wait and the overseas options. “It might be possible to get it annulled in Vegas, but I’m not certain about that either,” she sighed.

  “I like the sound of going to the Dominican Republic myself,” said Finola. “Lap up a bit of Caribbean sun and come home divorced. So what if it’s not entirely watertight. At least you’ve had the holiday and you’ve got a bit of paper.”

  “It’s really just a question of drawing a line in the sand, you know?”

  “Sure,” said Finola. She looked at Carey sympathetically. “I understand. And I know that we all laugh and joke about it, honey, but we do care about you.”

  Carey felt tears prick at the back of her eyes. “I know you do. And thanks. We’ll sort it out eventually, you know.”

  “In the meantime, how’s the apartment coming along?” Finola decided to change the subject.

  “Great,” said Carey. “Really great. I love it.”

  “Housewarming?” asked her friend.

  Carey grimaced. “Everyone keeps asking me and I do intend to. It’s just I haven’t got round to it yet. Peter wants me to combine it with a divorce party.”

  “That might take ages,” complained Finola. “I haven’t been to a decent party in months!”

  “OK, OK.” Carey grinned, then stood up. “Last lap,” she said as she looked at her watch. “Come on, Finola. Let’s do it all over again.”

  When she’d finished her shift, Carey decided to call and see Maude. She felt guilty that she hadn’t dropped in to see her mother in ages, but she hadn’t wanted to get involved in deep discussions about her personal life — which she knew was bound to happen if she called at the house. However, popping in after this shift would mean that she didn’t have to stay too long, and she hoped that she might be able to keep away from the subject of the men in her life for half an hour or so.

  She was surprised to find Arthur at home on his own.

  “Your mum’s gone into town,” he informed her.

  “Town!” Carey looked at him in astonishment. “At night — on her own?”

  “She’s a grown woman,” said Arthur mildly.

  “Yes, but…” Carey blinked a couple of times. “She doesn’t go into town on her own often, does she?”

  “She’s celebrating tonight,” said Arthur.

  “Celebrating what?” demanded Carey.

  “With Sylvia.”

  “Sylvia’s celebrating something with Mum?”

  “And Freya.” Arthur zapped the remote control and changed stations.

  “Dad!” Carey looked at him in exasperation. “Where have they gone? Why? And why with Freya? How does Mum even know Freya?”

  “She’s met her a couple of times,” said Arthur. “They get on together.”

  “But Freya is Ben’s sister!” cried Carey.

  “Maude doesn’t hold that against her,” said Arthur.

  “You’re so impossible!” Carey glared at him.

  “Look,” said Arthur, “all I know is that they’ve gone into town for a meal and a bit of a celebration because Freya got engaged. And she asked your mum and Sylvia to go out with her.”

  “Engaged!” Carey frowned. “But I thought — never mind. Why has she asked them to go out with her? Doesn�
��t she have other friends?”

  “Maybe she prefers Maude and Sylvia to any of her other friends,” said Arthur.

  “That’s ridiculous,” snapped Carey.

  “Why?”

  “Because — because they can’t be friends with Ben’s sister.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s weird,” said Carey.

  Arthur hit Mute on the remote control and looked at his daughter. “You’re calling them weird?” he said mildly. “You? You’re the one who rushed off and…”

  “OK, OK!” she cried. “It’s weird that after Ben and me split up, they’ve become friends.”

  “Perhaps,” said Arthur. “But I’m sure your mother knows what she’s doing.”

  “I’m not,” said Carey darkly, and went to make some tea.

  It was nearly midnight when Maude arrived home, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. She looked at Carey with surprised delight.

  “Well, hello,” she said. “What do you want?”

  “Nothing,” said Carey. “I just called in to say hi. But you weren’t here.”

  Maude shrugged off her light coat. “No,” she said, “I was out to dinner.” She hung up the coat and raised her eyebrows at Carey. “We haven’t seen you for ages.”

  “I’ve been busy,” said Carey. “I’m sorry.”

  “Did you have a good time?” asked Arthur.

  “Wonderful,” said Maude. “I haven’t been in the Clarence since that pop-star guy took it over.”

  “Bono,” said Carey. “I think he regards himself as a rock star really. And it wasn’t just him who took it over.”

  “Who cares?” asked Maude. “The important thing was that we had a lovely meal and a lovely time.”

  “With Freya,” said Carey.

  “Yes.”

  “Mum!”

  “What?”

  “Freya? Ben’s sister?”

  “That doesn’t make her a bad person,” said Maude. “In fact, she’s a very nice person.”

  “She’s the person who invited his ex-bloody-girlfriend to our party and broke up our marriage,” exploded Carey.

  “So it’s all her fault?”

  “Yes,” said Carey.

  “Nothing to do with you and Ben?”