“How dare you!” she said, her eyes wide in shock.
“If it were left up to you,” Jameson went on, “none of us would be secure financially. I’ve never seen anybody get through money the way you did.” He folded his arms and put his head to the side, studying her carefully. “Tell
me, Verity – how is your love life at the moment?”
“What the hell has my love life to do with you?” she shot back. “And what the hell has it to do with this conversation?”
“To my reckoning,” he said, “quite a lot. It would appear that my money becomes of great interest to you when the latest love in your life doesn’t earn enough to keep you in your accustomed style.”
“How dare you!” she repeated, aghast at his nerve. “How dare you! I don’t interfere with your private life – even if you choose to flaunt it at such an inappropriate time.” Verity knew by the set of his jaw that she had struck a chord. “Of course a younger, impressionable woman who has a soft spot for Thomas would be very useful to you. Are you hoping that she won’t go back to Ireland? That she might stay on and be a housekeeper to you both – up at that depressing lakeside house?”
“My relationship with Aisling has nothing to do with you,” he said in a low voice, “and I refuse to discuss it with you. The only one thing I will say – is that Thomas adores her.”
“Well, yes,” she said, giving a little condescending smile. “I can see how he would. She has that childish, naïve quality, which would appeal to him. And of course, she would fit into that little rural life you have up at the lake.” She folded her arms. “But what about when this phase of your life is over? This fascination for the isolated life in the country – the bohemian artist image? What happens then? Do you really think she’ll fit in with your business life – your
real
career?”
The amused smile on Jameson Carroll’s face grew wider. “That is the big difference, Verity. The one thing you knew nothing about – was
me
. The life I’m leading now is the one I intend to go on living for the rest of my time. And if I decide to share it with anyone apart from Thomas – then it will be someone who wants the same things from life as I do.”
Verity closed her eyes for a few moments, shaking her head in exaggerated disbelief. “Well,” she said, now looking her ex-husband in the eye, “I reckon that you are deluding yourself – but – this is not the time or place to say any more.”
“Swell!” His tone was final. “Now we have established where we both stand, I must go and join the others.” He turned away from her.
“Jameson!” she said, coming after him. “Please . . . can’t we try and be friends at least?”
He turned back, and gave her a long look. “For Thomas’s sake,” he said, “I’m willing to try anything that makes life easier for him.”
She nodded. “Good.” Then she checked her watch. “I’ve got to go now – I have to meet someone.”
* * *
As he moved down in the lift, Jameson felt anxious about how things had gone between his parents and Aisling, and he felt awful for throwing them together.
Bloody Verity
! When he reached the ground floor he rushed along to the café, and as he entered it, he caught sight of Aisling’s blonde head bobbing up and down in conversation with the older couple.
“Coffee?” his mother said, holding the pot out to him.
“Yeah, thanks,” he smiled. He turned to Aisling. “And sorry about the situation with Verity. I don’t have to explain things to Mom and Dad . . . they know exactly what she’s like.”
“Oh, it gave us time to chat to Aisling,” his mother said airily. “She’s been telling us all about Ireland and that sweet little school she teaches in.”
His dad smiled thoughtfully. “I never got to Ireland. It’s one of the places I had a hankering to visit, to look up the place my folks originally came from.”
“There’s places where you can look up names, and find out where they came from,” Aisling said. “If you like, I could send you some information about the Carroll family. It’s quite a famous name in Offaly, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find out.”
“That would be real good,” the older man said.
Aisling took a pen and a little notebook from her bag. “I’ll take down your address, and I’ll send anything that I find out.”
“When do you actually go back, Aisling?” Jameson’s mother asked.
“Late next week,” she said, not looking at Jameson.
When they went back upstairs, Thomas seemed easier. He spoke to them for longer, although every so often he had to stop to take deep breaths that hurt his ribs.
When their visit was over, Jameson turned to the others. “I’ll just have a look in at the office,” he said, “and see if any of the test results have come through.”
* * *
The doctor lifted a file from the drawer. “Everything,” he said, “looks as though Thomas is healing well.”
“The internal bleeding?” Jameson asked.
The doctor pushed his glasses high up on his nose. “The removal of the spleen and the other work we did seems to have stemmed it.” He paused, looking over the notes. “Of course, it’s early days . . . but all in all, he seems to be on the road to recovery.”
“What difference will losing his spleen make?” Jameson asked anxiously.
“When he’s all healed up, it shouldn’t make any obvious difference – but I’m sure someone will be happy to go over any technicalities with you later.” He pursed his lips. “The ribs are causing him the most pain at the moment, but the medication will help that.”
Jameson nodded. “So how long d’you reckon it will be until he’s back to normal?”
“Woah, now,” the doctor held his hands up. “Let’s not rush things . . . but I reckon that there will be a huge difference in Thomas in around a month’s time.”
Jameson let out a low sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “And if there’s anything at all that will help my son get better quick – money is not an issue.”
The doctor inclined his head. “Everything that can be done for Thomas,” he said, “will be done.”
Chapter 32
Verity reappeared on the scene later in yet another perfectly coordinated outfit. She wore fashionably short-cut beige trousers with a pale green twin-set and matching green-stoned bangle and earrings. Her attitude was much more subdued
than earlier, and she directed most of her conversation at Thomas.
Around eight o’clock that night, the nurses advised Jameson that Thomas would be best left to rest until the morning. Verity was the first to stand up. She planted a frosted pink kiss on Thomas’s forehead, then she bade everyone goodnight and hurried off.
Back downstairs, Frances Carroll turned to Jameson and Aisling. “What are your plans for the night? You know you’re both welcome back home with us.”
Jameson looked at Aisling. “I reckon we’ll stay in the hospital rooms again tonight . . . just in case Thomas needs us.”
“Do whatever you feel is best,” his mother said agreeably.
“Tomorrow night,” Jameson said, “we might take your offer up – if Thomas is continuing to mend.”
“Oh, good!” she said, clasping her hands together in delight. “I’ll have the rooms aired first thing in the morning.”
* * *
After his parents had left, Aisling turned towards to a payphone in the lobby. “I think I’ll give Jean a ring,” she said. “Everyone will be anxious to know how Thomas is.”
“Sure,” Jameson smiled, “it’ll be good to give them the news. I’ll go ask the staff in reception where would be good to eat in town.”
She watched him as he walked across to the desk – so confident, so easy about organising things for them. A little knot came into her chest as she lifted the receiver. Everything about him was now so achingly familiar. His hair that she loved to run her fingers through, his tall, but solid frame – his strong back. Just every little thing about him.
“Oh, honey!” Jean exclaimed on hearing her voice. “How are things?”
“Improving – thanks be to God,” Aisling said. “He’s very badly injured, and he’s had a serious operation – but he’s going to pull through!”
“Oh, honey!” Jean said again. There was a pause, and Aisling could hear a conversation going on in the background. Then, Jean said. “Listen . . . your mom wants a word.”
Aisling’s heart sank. She’d hoped to get away with just passing a message on. She wasn’t up to arguing with her mother tonight.
“Thank God!” Maggie came on. “The poor lad – the poor, poor lad. As if he hasn’t enough problems in life –”
“I was just giving a quick ring to let you know how things are,” Aisling said quickly. Then she added, “We’ve got to go back up to the ward now.” It was a lie, but she had to get away from her mother.
“Where are you staying?” Maggie said quickly.
“In rooms in the hospital,” Aisling replied. “But tomorrow we’re going out to . . .” she hesitated, picking the right words. “Tomorrow we’re going out to Thomas’s grandparents’ place. Seemingly, they have a big house just half-an-hour’s drive.”
“Grand,” Maggie said, not sounding grand at all. “And Jean says can you give us the name of the ward in the hospital, and we’ll send get-well cards down to the poor lad.”
Aisling dictated the address to her, then said, “I’ll ring again when there’s any more news.”
“Aisling?” her mother said in a low voice. “We haven’t much time left now . . . just over the week.”
“I know that, Mammy,” she said, desperate to get off the phone.
“Well . . . don’t forget it.” She halted. “We have everybody
depending on us back home.”
Then, seeing Jameson striding across to her, Aisling said quickly. “I’ll ring again soon,” and hung up before Maggie could say any more.
“A guy on reception told me there’s a nice Chinese restaurant a few blocks away,” Jameson said. “A good meal might do us good, and we can let the hospital know where we are. What do you think?”
Aisling looked slightly awkward. “I’ve never had Chinese food,” she told him. “The food back home is very plain in the restaurants. Do you think I’ll like it?”
Jameson came over and put his arms around her neck. “You’ll love it,” he said with a smile.”
The walk out to the restaurant in the warm night air, plus the good news about Thomas perked them both up, and Aisling felt more relaxed than she had in days as she went over the exotic-sounding menu.
“Something easy for the first time,” Jameson suggested
, looking down the list of main meals, “with familiar ingredients. How about sweet and sour chicken with some egg-fried rice?”
Aisling thought for a moment. “Okay,” she said, grinning, “let’s go for it.” She didn’t tell him that the only rice she had ever eaten was rice pudding with a spoonful of jam in the middle to sweeten it.
Aisling loved the meal, and they finished off with some fruit she had never heard of and icecream. Later, as they chatted over coffee, Jameson suddenly reached across the table and took Aisling’s hand. “Are you OK about everything?” he asked, his face anxious.
“It was lovely,” Aisling reassured him. “I liked everything I tried –”
“Not the
food
,” he said, giving a little smile. “I meant my parents . . . and Verity. All that shit about us going to Disneyland . . . it’s so typical of her.” He paused, shaking his head. “It’s been difficult for you – being thrown in at the deep end like that.”
“Your parents are lovely,” Aisling said. “They’re really warm, genuine people.” Then she paused. “And I wouldn’t like to comment on Verity. The circumstances in which we’ve met can’t be easy for anyone . . .”
“You’re very kind,” Jameson told her, “because Verity is not a very likeable woman.” He shook his head. “God knows what I saw in her all those years ago. Although . . . she was different before Thomas was born . . .” He broke off now. “Let’s not waste any time talking about things like that.” He looked into her eyes, checking. “As long as you’re OK . . .”
“I’m grand,” Aisling whispered. “Neither of us need to explain the choices we made in our earlier lives.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” he said, grinning now. “And I’m real glad you enjoyed the Chinese food.”
Back in the hospital room, Aisling showered and padded around the room with one towel wrapped around her and another wrapped around her damp hair. She started sorting out clothes for the following day.
“Leave that until the morning,” Jameson said, coming up behind her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. “In all this awful business,” he whispered, “we seem to have lost time for ourselves.” He put a finger gently under her chin. “I’m real sorry about the way things have turned out . . . I would have loved your last days here to have been different.”
“So would I,” Aisling sighed.
They looked at each other for a few moments, and then his head bent down towards her and he kissed her properly for what seemed a long time. His hand moved up to unravel her hair from the towel, and tousle it around her shoulders. Then they moved across the floor to one of the iron beds, where Jameson gently removed the other towel and gathered her up into his arms.
* * *
They woke early in the morning, still wrapped around each other in the cramped single bed. They whispered quietly for a few moments, then Jameson got up and quickly dressed, then went off to check how Thomas had fared during the night.