‘That’s the plan.’ She took the glass, wrapped her fingers around it and scanned the room. ‘The woman in the purple dress is a customer, Krystie, and a good supporter. When you’ve put some pieces together I’ll invite her and a few others in for a private viewing.’
‘Jeez, suddenly I feel bloody nervous.’
‘No need to; she’ll love you,’ Sinéad assured her.
‘They all will,’ her brother said with an adoring look.
‘Max, isn’t there some banker you want to go and talk to?’ Sinéad rolled her eyes, but he was right: Krystie was looking very sexy in black leather trousers and red silk top. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail and wore a delicate black velvet percher low over one eye.
He grinned and kissed Krystie briefly on the lips. ‘Just wave when you’ve had enough.’
Sinéad worked the room introducing Krystie and was delighted when she spotted two fashion writers at the bar. She explained who they were and then took Krystie over to make the introductions. From time to time she surreptitiously checked her phone but the silence continued. By the time Max came back to claim Krystie, they had talked to all the most valuable people there, and Sinéad was more than ready to leave.
‘We’re going to grab a bite. Want to come?’ he asked, his eyes saying, Don’t you dare say yes.
She shook her head. As if she needed to watch the two of them making eyes at each other across the dinner table. ‘No, I’m tired. What time are we picking up Bridie tomorrow?’ She didn’t want to visit the nursing home where her aunt lived, but sometimes Bridie became agitated in the car, so Max couldn’t collect her alone.
‘Three. I’ll pick you up at half-two.’
‘Fine.’ Sinéad wished Krystie a merry Christmas, hugged them both goodnight and then went to find Philip. He was in serious conversation with a beautifully dressed young man at the bar and didn’t even notice her until she put a hand on his arm, making him jump. ‘Sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to say goodnight.’
He hugged her. ‘Goodnight, Sinéad. Thanks for coming.’
‘It was fun and a good opportunity to introduce Krystie to a few people.’
He nodded sagely. ‘She seems like a nice girl.’
‘She is, and very talented.’ Sinéad nodded back thinking it was rather odd that he hadn’t introduced her to the other man. ‘Okay, well, have a good evening. See you tomorrow, Philip.’
In the taxi she wondered about her brother-in-law and his strange behaviour but, as she neared home, her thoughts turned back to Dylan. She wasn’t in the mood for a row but she felt there was one brewing. Silent, reproachful smouldering over a long period followed by a volcanic eruption – that was the way Dylan operated. She climbed out of the car, paid the driver and braced herself.
When she opened the front door to the apartment, though, the place was in darkness. She didn’t know whether to be pleased, annoyed or worried. She switched on the lights and pulled the blinds, deciding that a warm bath and a glass of wine were called for. In the kitchen there was a note propped up on the table. She eyed it warily as she poured Merlot into a large glass and took it through to the bathroom. She turned on the taps, added some oils and went back into the bedroom to undress. She carefully took out the pins holding her cap in place, set it on the hat stand on her dressing table and then stepped out of her gown. She caught sight of herself in the mirror. She had worn her sexiest underwear and stockings, thinking that she and Dylan would be making up and he would be the one undressing her. Feeling miserable, she switched on the iPod, flicked through her playlists looking for something to suit her mood and opted for the sultry, sad songs of Melody Gardot. After stripping off her lingerie, she walked naked to the bathroom, flung them in disgust into the laundry basket and turned off the taps. She lit some candles, took a mouthful of wine and then went back out to the kitchen for the note. She slid beneath the foam before she unfolded it. Despite the temperature of the water, she shivered as she read.
You probably won’t even notice I’m missing but, just in case, I thought I should let you know that I’ve gone to spend Christmas with Jackie. I need a break from playing second fiddle to a ghost and I think you need to think about what you want. I know that I want a partner and a lover, not a lodger. I hope you have a good Christmas. I’ll see you in the New Year.
D
Sinéad read the words again and again and then, stretching out her hand, let the note drift to the floor. In all the time they had been together, despite their ups and downs, Dylan had never walked out. And to Jackie’s! His sister lived in Edinburgh and, while Dylan got on okay with her, they were by no means close. He must have gone straight to the airport from his parents’ house. She needed to think about what she wanted, he said. She laid back her head and closed her eyes. What did she want? ‘Answers’ was the only word that came to mind. She wanted to know where Sheila was and why. By parking her car at the end of that pier and leaving the country under a different identity, Sheila had clearly wanted them to believe that she was dead. But why?
She thought that Dylan understood, but Max had been right: he’d run out of patience, and where did that leave them? For the moment she was here in their lovely, lonely apartment and he was on his way to spend Christmas in his sister’s tiny spare room. It was comical, really, only she felt closer to tears than laughter. Why hadn’t he talked to her, shouted at her instead of this? But, in her heart, she knew that he had been telling her for months; she just hadn’t been listening.
She got out of the bath and, wrapping a towel round her, went out to the desk in the lounge. She rooted through papers and files until she found what she was looking for. The folder of prints of the photos he took when he went out on his rambles. The photos he’d prefer to be taking rather than the wedding and family photos that were his bread and butter. She fetched her wine and, after putting on a robe, curled up on the bed and opened the folder. There were many black-and-white shots. Dylan loved the gritty reality of monochrome, where colour didn’t distract the eye from the subject. There were many seascapes from various points along the Dublin and Wicklow coast. A nice shot of two elderly women paddling on Dollymount beach. Another of kids learning to windsurf in Malahide. A man sitting on a platform in a train station engrossed in a crossword and gloriously oblivious of the harassed commuters rushing past. A woman struggling along the street with a heavy bag of groceries in one hand, and a toddler tugging on the other. Sinéad felt a sense of pride as she admired his ability to spot and capture that special something most people missed.
She smiled as she flicked through them and then gasped when she was confronted with a photo of herself. It was a shot of her sitting in her father’s garden staring into the middle distance. There was nothing particularly unusual about the photo. It was one that anyone might snap of family. But it was the angle that Dylan had taken it from that made it different. It was a profile shot, but from very slightly behind her. Sinéad barely recognised herself. She was sitting forward, her shoulders hunched, her legs clamped together, tucked tight under the seat, her arms crossed, her expression – what you could see of it – blank. She didn’t look like a woman but more like a frightened animal braced for an attack.
Tears filled her eyes and she moaned softly at the next image, which was infinitely worse. In it she was asleep on the sofa, her pyjamas grubby and crumpled, her hair a tangled mess and her cheeks smudged with mascara. Again, her arms were hugged tightly around her. She stared in shock at the mess she had been and knew in her heart that this was an image that Dylan could have taken any night in the last few months. She was also quite sure that there was a wine bottle just out of shot, probably empty. She flicked on through more of the same and then looked at some of his most recent shots taken at various points along the coastline. They were all dark shots, taken in dull, dismal weather, an air of bleak hopelessness about them that she knew reflected his mood.
He had talked to her, tried to help her. He had been understanding and patient
. And he had planned this special evening and she had forgotten about it, forgotten about him. Why hadn’t she followed him over to his parents’ house today? That might have stopped him taking this step. His note had said, ‘I’ll see you in the New Year.’ Was he seriously planning to stay away for at least a week? The idea of spending the entire holidays without him now seemed unbearable.
She went to take a sip of wine and then, wrinkling her nose in disgust, took it out to the kitchen and tossed it down the sink. She switched on the coffee machine and, as she waited for it to heat, she wondered what she should do. She was tempted to phone but she knew that he would be in no mood for talking to her. It took a lot to anger Dylan but, when he did blow, he wasn’t easily placated. She would send him an email, she decided, write him a letter. There was hope. He hadn’t said it was over: he’d said he needed time to think. She just had to figure out what she could say to persuade him to give her another chance.
Chapter Twenty-four
Kieran woke on Christmas morning feeling happier than he would have thought possible a few weeks ago. He’d hoped Krystie was right and Sheila was alive, but when Sinéad had told him that her passport was missing he was sure of it. Yes, he was still worried about why Sheila had left, but thinking she’d run away was infinitely better than imagining her at the bottom of the ocean.
He felt hopeful and was actually looking forward to spending the day, a proper Christmas day, with his family and Beth, lovely, lovely Beth. He still couldn’t believe that she was in his life. It was only her warmth and kindness that made him realise how very lonely he had been all these years. He cringed now, ashamed at the way he’d judged her that first day in the pub. He’d been so bloody full of himself, thinking that she was after him when she had simply treated him the way she treated everyone, with compassion. A man would be lucky to have her on his arm and, on the few occasions they had gone out together he had seen her get many an appreciative glance. He was amazed at how it irked him but at the same time made him feel proud that it was him she chose to be with. Today he would introduce her to the family. He couldn’t see it being a problem. They might be surprised but he thought they’d be happy for him. Bridie, God love her, probably wouldn’t know what was going on, and, as for Philip, well, he didn’t care what he thought. His good mood faded a little at the thought of his son-in-law. He didn’t really want to spend Christmas Day with him.
He looked at the clock and realised the morning was almost gone. It was time he got his act together. Max had been surprised at his refusal of a lift and seemed almost worried at the thought of him driving. His own bloody fault, of course. If you behaved like an invalid, people started to treat you as one. Well, those days were over. He would collect Beth and drive them to Sheila’s house – he would always think of it as hers, not Philip’s – and then he could leave when they’d had enough and enjoy the remainder of the evening with Beth.
After he’d showered and shaved he put on a suit, a snow-white shirt and a bright, colourful tie Sinéad had bought him, but he’d never worn. Kieran grinned at his reflection and barely recognised himself. How rarely he’d smiled these last few months.
Thirty minutes later he stood on her doorstep feeling as nervous as if he were on a first date.
The door was thrown open and Beth stood before him resplendent in a vibrant print dress in different shades of red.
‘Well, don’t you look very grand! Come in.’
‘It’s just as well I went mad and put on a suit when I have to escort such a gorgeous woman.’ He stepped into the hall and hugged her. ‘Happy Christmas, Beth.’
‘And a very happy Christmas to you, too, Kieran.’ She pulled back and smiled at him, her eyes shining. ‘Have we time for a cup of tea?’
‘We do of course,’ he said, going and settling down on the sofa. He loved the warm cosiness of this room and Beth had a pretty little Christmas tree in the corner and cards hung along the edge of the fireplace. It was a home, whereas his house was just that: a house. ‘Did you hear from your son?’
She appeared with a tray. ‘First thing.’ She set out the cups and saucers of her best china and a plate of mince pies. ‘That Skype is great, isn’t it? I was able to see the little ones open my presents; it was wonderful.’ She ran a finger under her eyes.
‘It’s not easy being without your family at this time of year,’ he said, feeling sorry for her.
‘Gavin would love me to move to Melbourne but I don’t think it’s for me. I can’t imagine living anywhere other than Ireland.’
‘Neither can I, but I wouldn’t mind moving house,’ he admitted, surprising himself. He had given no thought to selling up, but he supposed spending time here made him realise how soulless and empty the place was now. Though it was full of memories, he took no comfort from them. He wanted to stop living in the past. He wanted to stop just existing.
He searched in his pockets. ‘Oh, shit, don’t tell me I forgot.’ And then he found what he was looking for in his inside breast pocket. He handed her the gift and smiled. ‘Happy Christmas, Beth.’
‘Oh, Kieran.’ She took the long slim box in her hands and stared at it.
‘If you don’t like it we can always go back to the shop and you can pick something else. I was never very good at choosing presents and I’m a bit out of practice—’
‘Will you shush!’ she said opening the box and taking out the chunky gold bracelet.
He watched her anxiously. He’d been taking careful note of the jewellery she wore this last week and he’d finally gone into the jeweller’s in the nearby shopping centre and picked out something he thought she’d like. ‘Well?’ he said when she just sat staring at it in silence.
‘It’s beautiful, Kieran. Will you put it on for me?’
He rummaged for his glasses and fumbled with the catch. ‘Why do they make these bloody things so small? Ah, there we go.’
She stretched out her arm to admire it. ‘Thank you so much, I couldn’t pick nicer.’
He smiled, relieved. It had been a long time since he’d bought jewellery for a woman. ‘I’m glad you like it.’
‘I have something for you, too. It isn’t much,’ she said shyly and bent down to get a beautifully wrapped gift from beneath the tree.
He grinned, delighted. ‘It’s the thought that counts.’ He tore the paper off and smiled when he saw it was the box set of the Godfather series. He’d told her soon after they met how much he loved those movies. He looked up at her. ‘You remembered?’
She shrugged and smiled. ‘I thought you could enjoy them at your leisure.’
‘Maybe we could watch them together.’
‘That sounds nice.’
He leaned over to kiss her cheek but she turned her head slightly and he caught the corner of her mouth. He drew back in surprise and looked into her eyes. She held his gaze and needing no further encouragement Kieran put an arm around her and kissed her again and was surprised and delighted when she put her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
Finally, she pulled away from him, looking flushed and a little embarrassed. ‘I think we had better go.’
He didn’t laugh, but stared at her intently. ‘You’re right, but do you think it’s something you might like to continue later?’
‘I think I might,’ she said, and smiled.
The nurse came into the Reception, her expression frosty. ‘I don’t think we’ve met before. You’re here to take Bridie out for the day, yes?’
Max watched the disapproving look on the woman’s face as Sinéad went forward to meet her, bloody judgemental cow.
‘Yes, I’m Bridie’s niece, Sinéad, and this is my brother, Max. We haven’t been here often. My sister, Sheila, was always closest to her.’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ The woman flushed in embarrassment. ‘Well, Bridie is quite calm today but there’s no knowing how she’ll react when she sees you. If she gets upset it may be better if she stays here.’
‘Is that likely?’ Max asked. Was she
talking about the same woman? Bridie hadn’t been remotely aggressive or hysterical last year. Absent was the word he’d have used to describe her. ‘She raised us, she knows us well,’ he told the nurse.
The woman’s eyes were pitying. ‘I’m afraid there’s no guarantee of that any more. She might recognise you today and not at all tomorrow. I’ll take you to her and let’s just see how it goes.’
Sinéad shot him a frightened look as they followed her down the hall, and he patted her shoulder.
He was glad at least to find the place wasn’t half as depressing as he’d remembered. Christmas music was being piped through the building, but not too loudly; decorations and holly hung from the ceilings; and the aromas of the Christmas dinner being prepared were causing his stomach to rumble.
The nurse stopped at a door, knocked and went in. ‘Your family are here, Bridie,’ she said, her voice bright and cheerful.
Max relaxed a little when he saw his aunt. She looked fit and well and it was hard to believe there was a thing wrong with her. He crouched down beside her chair, overcome with guilt that he hadn’t seen more of her. This woman had been like a mother to him. He took her hand and kissed it. ‘Hiya, Aunty, happy Christmas.’
She smiled broadly at him. ‘Maxie!’
He looked up in delighted surprise at the nurse, who just shrugged and smiled.
Sinéad pulled over a chair and sat on her other side. ‘Happy Christmas, Bridie.’
‘Hello, Maggie. I thought you’d be up to your eyes getting the dinner ready, or are you waiting for me to do all the work?’ Bridie laughed.
Sinéad looked at Max and he looked at the nurse. What were they supposed to do? Go along with her or say something? The nurse shook her head slightly and stepped in to save the day.
‘I love turkey and stuffing, do you, Bridie?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Bridie’s face lit up like a child’s, but then she scowled at Sinéad. ‘You didn’t put sage in the stuffing, did you, Maggie? You know I can’t stand the stuff.’
First We Take Manhattan Page 21
