Jerking away he placed his feet on the floor and stared at the floor, still in silence. He didn’t know what the hell he’d done now. Bloody hell why was she crying? He hadn’t even done anything yet.
‘I I’m sorry,’ He felt her warm hand on his shoulder briefly. ‘It’s just that this is a big deal for me.’
He turned back to find her huddled up to her chin in duvet - only her eyes were visible.
‘It doesn’t have to be. If you don’t want me to stay….. If you don’t want to sleep with me just say so and I’ll go.’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘But I thought you liked me?’
‘Mitch, I do like you – I like you a lot. It’s just this is all new to me. I’ve never….’ She paused, scrubbing her hand across her face. ‘You’re going too quickly, I can’t think straight with you so near. Look, I think it would be best if you just went so I can sort my head out.’
Mitch looked at the beetroot coloured girl almost hidden with embarrassment and realised just what a fool he’d been. Donal had led him to believe she was sexually active. Sorcha, and the way she’d acted with Archie had led him to think that, as her best mate, she would be the same; but obviously not!
It hadn’t changed the way he felt about her, but it had certainly influenced how he’d treated her. He wouldn’t have dreamt of coming straight from the airport asking to share her bed if he’d realised she was innocent. Well he would have, but he’d have been a damn sight more subtle about it. There was making love and having sex – It was just that, at the minute he hadn’t quite decided which one he was about. Stealing a look at her face, he reminded himself that innocent was a beautiful word, but one she was struggling with. It was up to him to take the lead. It was up to him to act the grown-up.
Reaching for his trousers, he was happy he’d had the foresight to keep his boxers on. He only turned back towards her as he started to button his shirt. At least she would realise her virginity wasn’t under threat any more.
‘Liddy, I really like you. In fact I like you too much to stay. I didn’t realise that me being here was such a big deal – you’re a bit of a rarity you know.’ He saw that she’d now covered her whole head under the duvet, which he couldn’t have. She should be proud of her ideals, not embarrassed by them. Easing himself onto the side of the bed he tentatively moved the duvet from her head, only to tuck it firmly around her neck. Brushing a stray curl off her forehead he continued. ‘I’m proud of you, you know. Don’t let some man like me take away something so special unless you’re sure.’ He reached down and placed a kiss against her slightly parted lips before standing away from the bed.
‘I’ll let myself out.’
Chapter Nineteen
Liddy didn’t give herself any time to think over the next few days as she threw herself into preparing for her long awaited trip to France. If she let her brain take the lead, mulling over every word that had been said, and trying to interpret every look that had passed between them, she’d go mad. If she let her heart take the lead, she’d stop at the nearest chemist, via Ann Summers that is, and jump him at the first opportunity. She did neither. She let common sense take the lead. If he liked her that much, he’d seek her out. If he didn’t seek her out, it was never meant to be and she’d learn to live with it. There were plenty more fish in the sea, although it was beyond her why they all had to be so….so damp!
Of course moving to France meant there was a whole new gene pool in which to dangle her rod, but frankly she couldn’t be bothered. There would be so many new experiences waiting for her that didn’t include the opposite sex: The food, the wine, the chocolate, the shoes, the chocolate, the clothes, the shoes – the list was endless, if a little repetitive.
She did feel a little anxious about the language barrier, but as she’d enjoyed French at school she hoped she’d at least be able to muddle through. She remembered the Bonjours and the Au Revoirs, it was just what came in between that could prove difficult.
Waking up early one Saturday she spent a happy few hours mooching up and down Grafton Street, browsing through the amazing array of shops while choosing gifts for both her Irish and French families. Toys from the Early Learning Centre for her step brother and sister and perfume for her step mum were easy, but for her dad she ended up with a book token from Hodges and Figgus. She really didn’t know what interested him anymore and she really didn’t care. For her mum she bought a woollen shawl from Brown Thomas, it was nearly half a month’s salary, but when she saw the pretty heather colours she just knew she’d love it just as much as she did. She was at sea when it came to Jean Pierre, but with a bottle of Irish malt whisky she couldn’t go far wrong, unless he was tea total!
Finally she decided to nip to Dunne’s Stores. Sorcha was right; she really didn’t have anything in her wardrobe that was suitable. If they decided to go out in the evening she’d be stuck between jeans, leggings or her one dress. She grimaced at the thought of the vile navy and white polka dot that she kept trying to throw away, only to keep just in case – just in case she fancied wearing a cheap polyester dress almost five decades out of date. She spotted the sale rail as soon as she entered the shop, and spent the next ten minutes rifling through rack after rack of out of season clothes. Some of the fashions were pretty far out and Liddy could well see why they’d been relegated to the bargain basement. But she did notice a couple of simple sundresses that could be glammed up with jewellery and a shawl so on impulse, and encouraged by the seventy percent off tag she threw them into her basket before she could think to change her mind. She then added a new pair of jeans and a couple of fitted t-shirts to her now bulging basket and at the last minute a plain black thin woollen cardigan that she could wear with anything.
She made her way to the till without looking at any more of the clothes on display. It had been a very long time since she’d bought anything other than jeans and sweats and now, once she’d started she was afraid she’d never stop. But counting her change in the queue she realised there was just enough for a cheap pair of high heeled sandals. She had pretty feet and an extra few inches to her height might make her look a little slimmer. She quickly found what she was looking for in a flimsy looking pair of black high heels and added them to the pile before she could change her mind. The fact she lived in trainers and never wore heels, apart from the odd pair borrowed off Sorcha wasn’t something she was prepared to dwell on more than that.
Afterwards, weighed down by shopping bags she headed back to Trinity College in order to catch her bus home. Walking towards Suffolk Street she looked up to find herself outside a chemist and, with a quick glance over her shoulder hurried in before her nerves gave way. Five minutes later she was standing outside with a bottle of perfume she’d never wear, a pair of insoles three sizes too big and a box of ten condoms. She looked at the packet with a frown. Were ten enough - too many? Surely they wouldn’t go through that many in a night? She bloody well hoped not! She turned the box over to squint at the small writing on the back. Had she got the size right? She’d had to make a snap decision in front of the smirking shop assistant. Well she wasn’t going to buy small was she, she thought on a blush, glancing at the extra extra-large bright blue ridged ticklers still in her hand. Stuffing them frantically in her bag she silently cursed the lack of carrier bags. Okay, so it was good for the environment, but how the hell was she meant to cope if someone she knew saw her with….
‘Hello Liddy, on your day off are you?’
She looked up, only to find herself staring into the interested face of Donal of all people.
‘Yes, days off now – and you?’ Closing her bag and sliding it over her shoulder.
‘I’ve taken the afternoon off.’ He reached out and took hold of one of her bags.’ Here let me. Have you had lunch yet? Why don’t we nip into O’Neill’s – I hear they do a mean carvery.’ He started moving down the street.
She was forced to follow after him, either follow him or lose her shopping!
Half an hour later she set abo
ut attacking the half a cow that had been set in front of her. Lunch with Donal was turning out to be a surprise, and not an unpleasant one at that. On his own, without his mates to perform to he was proving to be a wit of unprecedented mirth. He’d slid from one amusing story to the next with barely pause for breath. He really was a dear - If he could just find a way to control his wetness, for want of a better diagnosis, he’d make someone a kind and considerate boyfriend. Perhaps he had a medical problem? She’d mention it to Sorcha next time she saw her, she mused tuning back into the conversation.
‘So I told him, in no uncertain terms that, if he wanted to impress a girl, trapping his old man in the zip of his jeans wasn’t the way to go about it. I sent him off with a bandage large enough to impress any bird, a Tenanus jab and a course of antibiotics that are bound to give him a dose of the trots.’
‘Bloody hell, Donal! Please stop - at least until I’ve finished me spuds - I nearly choked on that last one.’
‘Fancy another then?’ He said, a smile pulling on his lips as he slapped his empty pint of Guinness on the table.
‘No, I’m not a great drinker during the day I’m afraid.’
‘Ah well, you don’t know what you’re missing. Guinness is like life’s blood.’
She remembered the last time she’d tried it. She remembered more than just the Guinness, a blush suddenly staining her cheeks. But all she said was, ‘to me it tastes bitter.’
‘Nah, that’s bitter, that’s a totally different kettle of fish!’ He paused to catch the eye of the barman, before continuing. ‘So, talking of cold fish; how’s the boyfriend?’
Liddy placed her knife and fork carefully on her plate. She’d heard from Sorcha about what he’d told Mitch. Donal obviously didn’t handle rejection well but, after sitting there and eating his food she couldn’t really lay into him. However she also wasn’t prepared to let him have a go at Mitch. ‘He’s not my boyfriend, but he’s certainly no cold fish.’
He reached out and pulled her hand into his idly starting to draw circles on the inside of her wrist. ‘Oh? You could have fooled me. Look, be careful alright. I like you, I always have but The Prof has a reputation as long as his arm. He’s laid more girlfriends than a chicken’s laid eggs.’ His hand stilled briefly. ‘Why don’t you give me a chance, I promise I’ll treat you like a princess?’
She stared back at him in surprise, although she should have seen it coming. He had her all wrong – the only man she’d ever wanted to treat her like a princess was her dad!
You could keep ivory towers and the like - she didn’t want a prince (not that Donal was a prince, more of a frog type). She wanted a real man that inhabited the real world – her world – not a land of make believe and fairy tales.
‘Donal, please stop.’ She failed to tug her hand back so decided to just leave it within his, It couldn’t do any harm and she didn’t want to make a scene.
‘You’re a good mate, albeit a bit impulsive. If you just wait a bit I’m sure there’ll be a smashing girl around the next corner, it’s just not going to be me.’ She leant across the table and placed the briefest of kisses against his cheek. ‘Thanks for lunch, but I think I should be going.’
Chapter Twenty
Mitch, sat paused at the traffic lights looked out of the window just in time to see Donal reach for her hand. His eyes, fixed as they were on the couple, didn’t see the traffic lights turn to green until his brother poked him on the shoulder.
‘Stop staring at the girl Mitch and drive the bleeding car.’
‘Sorry.’ He crunched the gears into first, before releasing the hand break.
‘Hey, go easy. What’s gotten into you all of a sudden? One minute you’re telling me about Helena and the next you’ve turned into Mr Statue. Was it the girl? You were staring at her as if she was on page three or something - mind you, she was quite a looker with all that wild untamed hair. What’s her bod like? I couldn’t quite see behind that jumbo Yorkshire Pudd?’
‘Shut up lil bro.’ He said, resigned to his fate - this was far too good an opportunity for his brother not to take the mickey out of him.
‘Of course she’s not up to your usual standard being as she’s obviously not a stonking blond but….’
‘She doesn’t have to be a stonking blond to be perfect. In fact I seem to have gone right off blonds.’
‘Steady on Mitch, as much as I’m your brother I wouldn’t like to see you get hurt, or anything. You did see that she was holding hands, not to mention kissing another bloke, didn’t you – or were you too blinded by love to notice?’
‘Bah – that was only Drippy Donal – she wouldn’t touch him with a five foot barge pole.’
‘Drippy who? They seemed quite chummy to me.’
‘Well, that’s all you know!’
‘So, tell me then, who is she? What is she?’ Paul asked, his voice sounding serious for once. ‘Remember, whilst we may be brothers and hate each other’s guts, especially when Arsenal are thrashing Man U you’re still family and I love you – I’ll help if I can.’
Mitch turned his eyes briefly away from the road to reach across and tousle his brother’s hair.
‘I know you will, but no one can help. I’ve well and truly blown it on that score. She’s moving away in a few weeks and I probably won’t even see her now before she goes – And just for the record Arsenal has never thrashed Man U!’
‘Er, what about 2002 when they won the league then?’ He replied, but only half-heartedly, having had this conversation many times before. ‘So, where’s she moving to anyway?’
Mitch pulled up into an unloading bay outside his brother’s halls of residence, switched off the engine and turned towards him.
‘France, but it could be Timbuctoo as far as I’m concerned – And the score was only 1:0, although you were probably too young to remember!’
‘Am not - Dad let me stay up until the end, so there! So what’s perfect about her then?’ He paused, suddenly breaking out into a beaming smile. ‘Oh God, she’s that dark haired Irish…..’
‘I wouldn’t go there, just leave it.’ But he carried on relentlessly.
‘Wine drinking nurse. So what are her boobs like, not that it’ll make any difference to you. Sometimes I even wonder if we’re related, let alone brothers with your preference for legs over tits.’
‘Please Paul, just give it a rest. She’s a nice girl and she certainly doesn’t deserve to be talked about like that.’
‘Okay, okay.’ He raised his hands in submission. ‘There’s little point in teasing you in this mood anyway. Although….’ His voice stuttered to a halt before continuing at top speed. ‘I think I have it and you’d be helping me into the bargain.’
‘What?’
‘Any chance this ideal girl of yours has a friend – not a dog mind! I remember the last blind date you set me up with. It’s my Christmas do coming up and now that I’ve dump… I mean now I’m young free and single again I’m also in need of a date - perhaps we could make a foursome?’
‘I thought you’d just started dating - Mary was it?’
‘Nah, she kept nicking my razor and clogging up the plug hole with her hairs.’
‘Ew – that’s too much information. She does have a friend, quite cute – that is if leggy blonds are your thing?’
‘Keep talking. So what are her boobs like?’
‘Paul!!!’ A frown furrowing his brow. ‘I can honestly say I haven’t looked anywhere past her neck, but she is cute.’
‘I’m salivating already.’
Nah, that would be Drippy Donal!’ He managed a brief smile. ‘Well, I don’t remember much else to be honest, but I happen to have her phone number so…’
So what’s stopping you – give her a ring and set it up. It’s this Friday, party frocks.’
‘Oh God, and my pink taffeta is still at the dry cleaners. Can I borrow that off the shoulder purple ensemble you wore last year?’
Paul chortled. ‘Thanks for lunch. I’ll s
ee you Wednesday night, right?’
‘Yeah, I suppose so, if I can get away on time.’
‘Mitch, you’ll break Ma’s heart if you miss her birthday meal.’
‘I know – I’ll be there, just maybe a bit late.’
‘Okay, I’ll have a beer waiting.’ Paul paused briefly. ‘Er, how are you off this month? You couldn’t lend me..…’
‘How much this time?’ Mitch interrupted, pulling out his wallet from the dashboard. He’d been a student too although, funnily enough he’d always been able to manage. But If Sorcha agreed to his plan then it would be money well spent.
‘Here, have a couple of hundred euros – You might need a new handbag to go with that LBD of yours!’
Chapter Twenty One
Liddy approached her next block of nights with resignation. Nights weren’t so bad after all. The busy ones went quicker of course, but the quiet ones had their advantages. She’d managed to reknit the now eponymous white cardigan and had started on her next project: a very large very blue cable jumper. She’d discovered she quite enjoyed knitting, which wasn’t a bad thing really.
Nights, like days followed a set routine with the student nurses helping to hand out bedtime drinks and settle patients for the night ahead, whilst trained nurses completed drug rounds and attended to the many intravenous fluid regimes.
She couldn’t believe it when eleven o’clock came around - time to turn the football off in bay three, much to the annoyance of all four men propped up against their pillows.
In her best Matron’s voice, which she always found worked a treat she cajoled and teased them into submission.
Ideal Girl (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 1) Page 12
