Too Good to Be True

by Sheila O'Flanagan

  “You’re missing the point,” said Carey. “She never wanted me to marry him in the first place, and she did everything she could to make sure it didn’t work — and I just don’t see how you can be friends with her!”

  “She’s had a tough time,” said Maude.

  “Oh, I know. I’ve heard all about the early menopause. So what?”

  “Carey!” Maude looked at her daughter angrily.

  Carey flushed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know that was probably horrible for her. And then her boyfriend dumped her.”

  “How do you know all this?” asked Maude.

  “Ben told me — when we went to the apartment in search of Jeanne and Gary.”

  “It wasn’t very discreet of him.”

  “I haven’t told anyone,” said Carey. “I wouldn’t. You obviously knew already.”

  “But why did he tell you?” asked Maude.

  “He had to explain why his nose was squashed,” Carey told her. “He got into a fight with Brian.”

  “Yes, Freya told me.”

  Carey grinned. “Apparently they really went for each other.”

  “Well, it worked,” said Maude. “Because Freya and Brian are now engaged.”

  “Dad said.” Carey smiled faintly. “That’s nice for her, I guess.”

  “Have you seen him since?” asked Maude.

  “Brian?” Carey shook her head. “How would I…”

  “You know perfectly well I don’t mean Brian,” said Maude. “I meant Ben.”

  “No, I haven’t seen him,” said Carey. “I don’t expect to see him. My plan is to go to the Dominican Republic and get a divorce and never see him again.”

  “Carey —”

  “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Carey picked up her jacket from the chair. “Anyway, I’d better get home. It’s late.”

  “OK,” said Maude. “It was nice of you to drop round.”

  “I won’t leave it so long next time,” said Carey. “I promise.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  JUNIPER

  A berry oil, it is clear and refreshing

  Ben looked up from his computer as Freya walked into his office. He hadn’t seen his sister in almost a week — since she’d informed him that she was taking a few days off and was going to the Sheen Falls Hotel in Killarney to recharge her batteries. “With Brian,” she’d added, and kissed Ben fondly on the forehead.

  She looked great today, he thought as she smiled at him. Bright and cheerful and quite unlike the pale and tired woman she’d been such a short time earlier. She sat on the edge of his desk and extended her hand to show him the glittering sapphire and diamond engagement ring she now wore.

  “He bought it for me before we went,” she told him. “And he gave it to me on our first night there.”

  “It’s lovely,” said Ben. “Really lovely.”

  “And it’s thanks to you,” said Freya. “Who would’ve believed that my kid brother would be the one to sort out my relationship problems!”

  “In the time-honored way of beating up the man who upset you.” Ben grinned. “I’m really happy it worked out, Freya. At the time, all I was thinking of was killing him.”

  “I know,” she said. “And even though I would’ve been very upset if I’d known what you were up to, I’m glad that you did it.”

  “So am I,” said Ben. “But I acted totally without thinking. I was so mad at him, you know. Because you’re a brilliant sister and you did everything for me and — well…” His voice trailed off. “I just knew that the two of you were supposed to be together.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yes,” said Ben. “I know I teased you about it and called him Boring Brian sometimes — I think that once I even told you that your relationship with him was a bit sad — but actually, it wasn’t. It was exactly what it should be. You’re made for each other.”

  “OK, OK, stop with the soppiness,” commanded Freya.

  “Besides, I like him,” said Ben, “despite having tried to beat him to a pulp and getting a squashed nose for my troubles. He’s easy to get on with, and how could I be sure you wouldn’t bring home some kind of ridiculous toy-boy next?”

  “Ben Russell!” Freya hit him on the shoulder.

  “I know, I know, you’re not that sort of girl.” Ben smiled at her. “So when’s the big day?”

  “July, I think,” said Freya. “I’ve always wanted a summer wedding.”

  “Really?” asked Ben. “I never even knew you thought about it.”

  “Not often,” Freya told him. “But sometimes.”

  Ben glanced at his computer screen, then looked at Freya again. “So — two Russell weddings in the one year,” he said tonelessly.

  “Don’t get upset by me saying this, but I rather hope mine lasts a bit longer,” said Freya.

  Ben grimaced. “Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “All the same, I hear you’ve been lending a helping hand to the Brownes recently.”

  “What?” He looked at her, startled.

  “Finding Sylvia’s missing daughter. Dealing with the drug-crazed boyfriend. That sort of thing.”

  “Who on earth told you about that?” demanded Ben.

  “I have my sources.”

  “Freya!” His voice rose. “Who told you?”

  “Keep your hair on,” she said. “Sylvia told me. And Maude.”

  “Sylvia?” He stared at her. “Carey’s sister? And her mother? Why did they tell you? How did they meet you?”

  “It may surprise you to know that I’ve kept in touch with them,” said Freya nonchalantly. “We went for dinner to celebrate my engagement.”

  “Freya!” This time his tone was incredulous.

  “We get on with each other,” she told him simply.

  “How the hell did you manage to stay in touch with them?” asked Ben. “I didn’t think you even knew where they lived.”

  “The how is irrelevant,” said Freya. “Accidentally, to tell you the truth. And the why is that I like Maude and I like Sylvia too.”

  “How often do you meet them?”

  “Not that often. But we chat on the phone sometimes. They give me good advice.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “I am.”

  “So — you’re getting advice from my ex-in-laws?”

  Freya grinned. “Sometimes.”

  “But…” He looked helplessly at her. “You’re getting involved with them while I’m trying to get uninvolved with Carey.”

  “It’s you that’s got involved,” Freya pointed out. “You’re the one helping out, not me.”

  “That was completely accidental too,” said Ben. “And I haven’t seen or talked to Carey since. What you’re doing is different. You’re becoming involved on a regular basis and that’s not going to make it easy on me or her.”

  “It’s not going to make any difference,” said Freya. “You’re not the one meeting Maude and Sylvia.”

  He rubbed his temples. “This is bizarre, Freya,” he said. “Really bizarre.”

  “It is a bit,” she agreed. “But there’s something about them that I like.”

  “If only you’d felt like that about Carey at the start,” he said bitterly.

  “That wouldn’t have changed anything,” said Freya. “I had nothing to do with your — your difficulties.”

  “No, but you might not have invited Leah to the party,” said Ben. “And a lot of things might have been different then.”

  Freya looked at him speculatively. “Do you really think so?”

  Ben sighed deeply. “Well, maybe not.”

  “So it wasn’t my fault, but the silver lining is that I’ve made some new friends in Maude and Sylvia, and that’s a good thing.”

  “I suppose so. It’s still bizarre though.”

  “Have you seen Leah at all lately?” asked Freya.

  “That’s a bit bizarre too,” said Ben. “We had a row — well, not a flaming row, just she w
anted to know where we stood, that sort of thing. I left and I didn’t know whether or not I’d even talk to her again. Then a few days later she rings me up and asks me for some PR contacts for her salon opening. Next thing I know I’m having coffee with her and she’s a totally different person because she’s focused on her business and she doesn’t even mention the fact that she wanted some kind of long-term commitment from me.”

  “So where does that leave you?” asked Freya.

  “I don’t know.” He scratched the back of his head. “The thing is, I know she’d like to get married and settle down and have children, but I don’t know whether or not she should do any of those things with me. And…” He looked doubtfully at Freya. “She’s not getting any younger. I mean, it’s not like she’s old or anything, but…”

  “You’re eyeing her up and wondering if she’ll end up like me?”

  “Kind of,” he admitted. “And although I’d be shocked if at some point in my life I didn’t have kids, I know that it would be much worse for her.”

  “You can’t hang round forever, Ben,” said Freya. “You’ve got to make your choices.”

  “See, the problem is that when I do, they always turn out to be rotten choices.”

  Freya looked at him sympathetically.

  “I’m hopeless,” said Ben. He shook his head resignedly. “You’d imagine that human beings would have got over this whole love thing by now, wouldn’t you? That we’d have evolved past it. It causes so much bloody trouble.”

  “But when it works it’s great,” said Freya.

  Ben smiled suddenly. “And it’s worked out for you, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It really has.”

  Carey was on her own in the apartment. She had a headache, not a bad one but a nagging ache at the back of her neck, so she lay stretched along the leather couch with her eyes closed. She was trying to get rid of the pain without taking any pills. In the first week she’d met him Ben had told her that the body had a wonderful system of self-healing, which most people resisted rather than assisted. He’d tried to teach her how to relax, although he’d given up in despair when she’d told him that she was at her most relaxed when she was doing things, and then had reached out for him and pulled him towards her and they’d made love. For the third time that day, she remembered.

  She moved her head and stopped thinking about making love to Ben. Instead she concentrated on the sounds of waves gently lapping upon the shore which were coming from her recently bought Restful Moments CD. There were lots of natural sounds on it, including hissing rain and summer breezes rippling through the trees, but it was the easy sound of the sea that Carey found the most soothing. While she listened she could almost see the waves gathering momentum as they traveled towards the beach before tumbling casually in a splash of multi-colored drops onto the golden sand.

  In her imaginings the waves were always white-tipped azure blue and the sands were always golden, lit by a hot sun spilling from a cloudless sky. She shifted on the couch, almost feeling the warmth of the sun on her face. It had been another sunless day in Dublin, the skies hidden by a film of gray cloud. It would be nice, she thought as she shifted again, to get away to somewhere warm. To get away to the beach of her dreams and the real sound of the waves. Peter was talking about going to the south of France for the summer holidays. She hadn’t given it much thought herself, hadn’t really considered going anywhere, but the last night they’d been out together he’d told her about the little town of Le Cap d’Agde where he’d gone the year before he’d married Sandra and which, he said, was beautiful and unspoiled and utterly gorgeous. Not touristy, he’d said, and had made a face at her when she asked him why all tourists considered themselves to be above the tourist hordes. And she’d told him that she’d think about it, but that maybe her ideal holiday this year would be an all-inclusive break somewhere totally touristy where she wouldn’t be expected to immerse herself in culture but could behave outrageously instead.

  “I like the thought of behaving outrageously with you,” Peter said.

  “Do you?”

  “Even behaving normally with you would be nice.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Come on, Carey. We’re going out together again, but you still won’t sleep with me. And I’m beginning to feel —”

  “I’m not ready to sleep with you,” she interrupted him. “I told you.”

  “It’s not like you haven’t slept with me already,” he pointed out.

  “That was different,” she said. “It’s just that I’m — it’s still being married to Ben. It just feels wrong, Peter. It’s not that I don’t find you hugely attractive because you know I do. But I can’t get this feeling of being attached to someone else out of my head. I’m sorry.”

  “Do you still love him?” asked Peter.

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” she said crossly.

  “Do you love me?” he asked.

  She turned to him. “I don’t trust myself to know,” she whispered. “That’s the problem. I really have no idea how I feel about anything anymore.”

  “I love you,” he said. “You know I do. And I’ll give you some more time.”

  Then he kissed her gently on the lips and she held him to her, and wondered how long he’d wait for her before dumping her for someone who didn’t seem to have completely lost her marbles when it came to falling in love.

  She opened her eyes. Thinking about Peter had pushed the azure seas and lapping waves completely out of her mind. What was even worse, her headache hadn’t improved in the slightest. She sat up and rotated her head slowly from side to side. She wished she didn’t feel so unsettled all of a sudden. When she’d first moved into the apartment it had been like a safe haven for her, and she’d expected that the uneasiness that seemed to be with her constantly would lift. But it hadn’t. She still felt edgy and out of sorts and, even though she knew that she was back to top form as far as work was concerned, her personal life was ragged round the edges. It’s the bloody closure thing, she thought savagely as she rubbed at her neck. It’s knowing that this marriage is like a damn sentence that I have to serve even if I go ahead with the dinky Dominican divorce.

  She stood up and stretched, then picked up the brochures from the table in front of her. They were full of pictures of pale beaches, blue skies, and shimmering seas. She looked at the divorce information she’d downloaded from the Web and read through it again. What the hell, she thought. The holiday will be nice.

  Sitting down at her computer, she logged on. She looked up the divorce sites again and filled out all of the information requested. Then she submitted the form. There was no point in drifting any longer. When she heard back from the lawyers, she’d book a flight and go. With luck, it wouldn’t take too long. And then she’d feel like a single person again, a person who could go to bed with her boyfriend and not feel bothered about it.

  It was funny, she thought, that sleeping with someone else even though he was married to Sandra hadn’t bothered Peter in the slightest. She had the feeling that sleeping with Leah even though he was married to someone else wouldn’t bother Ben either. And they were right not to be bothered! It was just Carey herself who was being silly.

  Gathering up the forms which she’d printed off, she clipped them together. Then she put them into her big handbag, picked up her car keys, and left the apartment. Her headache was gone.

  She hadn’t meant to drive to Portobello. She hadn’t really given any thought at all to her destination when she’d started the engine and eased out of her parking space. But suddenly she was on the M1 heading towards the city and she knew that she was driving to Ben’s house. What she didn’t know was why. She tried to analyze it now as she sat stuck in the commuter traffic. Why did she want to see him? To talk about the divorce? To ask him if he thought it was really a good idea before she booked her flight? Or — she shoved the car into first and edged forward about a yard — did she want him to change his mind? To tell her that he w
as sorry about everything and that he really loved her after all? She made a disgusted face at herself in her rearview mirror. That was plain silly — she knew it was. And yet…

  She sighed. It was still hard to accept the mistake. It was hard to admit that she’d got it so wrong. If only they’d been able to give it some more time. After all, they’d behaved really well towards each other over the sofa, like real grown-ups, no screaming and shouting. And Ben had been wonderful about Jeanne. Carey bit her lip. Far too wonderful, she thought. Far too nice and understanding and helpful for someone she would have preferred to hate.

  Anyway, it was too late now. She knew what she was going to do. She was going to post all these papers through his letter-box so that he’d know that she was ready to make a fresh start. He’d probably be relieved and happy about that. After all, he’d been perfectly prepared to go to the Dominican Republic himself. He probably would have gone ages ago except she’d been the one to insist on going.

  Although, she wondered as the traffic ground its way forward, would it be better to wait until she’d heard back from the lawyers and had something useful to give him rather than shoving the stuff she had through the door? According to the information, he was going to have to sign some papers too. Perhaps it’d make more sense to wait until she had them? She edged towards Ben’s street. I won’t stop, she thought. I’ll go back home and wait until I have the right papers. No point in —

  “Shit!!!”

  She slammed on the brakes as the girl in the red coat stepped off the pavement in front of her. Silly bitch, thought Carey, her heart thumping with fright. Didn’t even look! And then she swallowed hard. Because the girl who was now glaring at the car was Leah Ryder.

  Carey pressed the button and her electric window slid down. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “You stupid cow!” cried Leah. “What were you —” Then she stopped as she realized who the stupid cow who’d nearly hit her actually was.

  “Hi,” said Carey in her most offhand tone.

  “Hi?” Leah stared at her. “You nearly kill me and that’s all you can say?”

  “You stepped out without looking.”