Better Together (24 page)

‘It’s important to let everyone know how good we are,’ she told Sheridan. ‘Now what treatment would you like? Our signature massage? Or would you rather have something more specific?’

‘I wasn’t expecting to have a treatment,’ said Sheridan, who was worried that Ritz would remember her suggestion of a before-and-after piece and was determined not to let that happen. ‘I’m just here to get information.’

‘Of course you have to have a treatment!’ exclaimed Ritz. ‘How can you write about it otherwise?’

‘I suppose . . .’

‘You have to do your research properly,’ the spa manager added. ‘Besides, I bet working for DJ is stressful. You need some time off for relaxation!’

Sheridan nodded. Being truthful, she was finding the restful ambience and subtle scents of the spa very enticing.

‘So, what would you like? Something to help you lose a few pounds, cellulite, anything like that?’

Sheridan tried not to mind Ritz suggesting weight-loss and cellulite treatments. She could hardly blame her when she was constantly trying to drop a dress size and bemoaning the state of her thighs herself.

‘The aromatherapy massage and the facial,’ Ritz decided when Sheridan didn’t reply. ‘I’ll get Katya to do it. She’s our best therapist and she’s free in ten minutes. Before that, let me show you the pool. I love it.’

Sheridan could see why. It was like a fairy grotto, with twinkling lights set into both the ceiling above it and the bottom of the pool.

‘I guess you don’t let kids use it.’

‘No, we don’t. We had a big discussion about that because we do get families down here. But the feedback was that we get even more people coming for spa breaks who wouldn’t be too keen on kids, so the spa is an adult-only area.’

Sheridan knew she’d have to describe that so that it sounded like a potential guest-pleaser and didn’t put people off.

‘Right,’ said Ritz. ‘Let’s get you into a treatment room and a gown, and see what you think once we’ve pampered you till you can take no more.’

Nearly two hours later Sheridan emerged from the spa feeling suitably cleansed and relaxed and thinking that spa treatments could probably trump tickets to football matches, particularly when it was damp and miserable outside. Ritz was waiting for her in the reception area and asked her if she’d enjoyed herself.

‘How could I not?’ Sheridan replied. ‘I feel better than I have in ages.’ Which was perfectly true. For the first time since she’d been made redundant, she hadn’t been thinking that she was teetering on the edge. She’d allowed herself to drift so that the only thing in her head was the gentle sound of the music (music she usually dismissed as plinky-plonky earth-mother stuff but which had been very soothing).

‘Glad to hear it,’ said Ritz. ‘Would you like something to eat? We have a lovely café upstairs that does a nice line in healthy-option food. The restaurant itself doesn’t open till this evening, though you should check it out sometime. It’s brilliant.’

‘Do many people go for the healthy options?’ asked Sheridan.

‘After the spa treatments they do,’ replied Ritz. ‘Dunno if they stick to them afterwards though.’

The two of them went into the café and Sheridan, feeling virtuous, chose a smoked chicken salad. She only felt as though she were overdoing it when Ritz asked for an apple and hot water with a slice of lemon.

They sat at one of the high bistro tables with views towards the river.

‘So, how are you enjoying your time in Ardbawn?’ Ritz stirred her lemon water as she spoke.

‘So far so good,’ replied Sheridan. ‘Although obviously
working with DJ and Shimmy is quite different to what I did before.’

‘DJ is a darling,’ said Ritz. ‘I love him to bits.’

‘But you broke up with him?’

‘Love him to bits like a brother,’ she amended. ‘We get on famously but there wasn’t that thing between us. That special electricity, you know?’

Not really, thought Sheridan. There hadn’t been a special electricity between her and any of her boyfriends, even Griff. They’d been more about companionship, getting on with each other, and occasionally enjoyable (if not mind-blowing) sex. She’d never seen a man and fancied him like crazy, thought about him all the time and drawn up fantasies of how things would be if they were together. (At least not until she’d been made redundant and Talia had suggested that Griff move in with her. She’d wondered what living with him would be like then and it had turned out to be complete fantasy in the end anyway.) She’d never stayed awake hoping that someone would call, frantic at the thought of never seeing him again. Nor had she ever wished her life away, living from date to date, thinking that every second away from a boyfriend was a wasted second as she knew some of her friends occasionally did. It wasn’t her. It never had been. The only time she’d felt the frisson Ritz spoke about (and it hadn’t been a frisson then, it had been an intense bolt of lightning) had been when she’d met Josh Meagher’s father, Joe. And that didn’t count.

‘DJ and I could’ve stayed together,’ Ritz continued, not noticing that Sheridan’s attention had wavered. ‘But the truth is it wouldn’t have gone anywhere.’

‘Are you going out with anyone now?’ asked Sheridan,
thinking that Ritz could probably have anyone in the town she liked.

‘Not yet,’ replied the spa manager. She gave a philosophical shrug. ‘There isn’t what you’d call a vast array of men to choose from in Ardbawn. The ones who are eligible are well in demand. Which is why I thought long and hard about breaking up with DJ. Then I realised I wanted to stay with him because I wasn’t keen on being on my own, which, let’s face it, is a ridiculous reason for being with anyone.’

‘Although a reason that lots of women use,’ observed Sheridan.

‘True. But not me. Besides,’ Ritz looked confidingly at Sheridan, ‘he’s a fair bit older than me and a bit of a stick-in-the-mud for all of his good humour. He likes things the way they are, whereas I like change.’

‘DJ campaigns for change,’ Sheridan pointed out. ‘He writes a lot in the paper about the need for reform.’

‘But the focus is all Ardbawn. I do understand that the community is important, but I can’t imagine my entire life revolving around it.’

‘So do you plan to move away?’ asked Sheridan.

‘Perhaps,’ said Ritz. ‘Although that depends on how things pan out with . . .’ Her voice trailed off as she broke into a smile and raised her hand to wave at someone across the room.

Sheridan caught her breath as the man she’d waved at came over to them. It was Joe, dressed in jeans and a fine-knit jumper, his dark hair tousled and a little unkempt. The tingling of electricity that Ritz had spoken about suddenly jangled every nerve end in her body and she dropped the fork she’d been holding, only just managing to catch it before it hit the ground.

‘Well, look who it is,’ said Ritz as Joe approached. ‘How’re you doing?’ She kissed him on the cheek and turned to Sheridan. ‘Do you know . . .’

‘Joe. Yes, we’ve met.’ Sheridan, keeping her hands clenched to hide her trembling fingers, gave him her most professional smile.

‘Sheridan, isn’t it?’ He held out his hand and she took it. His handshake was firm, but not bone-crushing like DJ’s.

‘What are you doing here, sweetheart?’ Ritz’s voice was like syrup. ‘Not that it isn’t always lovely to see you.’

Sweetheart? Sheridan’s glance flickered between them.

‘I was up in Dublin and I haven’t had anything to eat,’ said Joe. ‘I thought that stopping off here might be nicer than having something at home.’

His comment seemed totally out of character to Sheridan. Ever since she’d met him, she’d thought of him as a family man, sitting down to dinner every night with his wife who did the home cooking and Josh who appreciated it.

‘Well it’s nice to see you again,’ said Ritz. ‘I was beginning to think I’d offended you somehow.’

It was clear that Ritz felt proprietorial towards Joe. Sheridan could hear it in the sweetening of the other girl’s voice, in the way her gaze lingered on him and the way she’d said ‘sweetheart’, careless, yet with an underlying sense of ownership. But how did he feel about her? And what about the home-cooking wife and the adorable boy?

‘You? Offend me? Never,’ said Joe. ‘I’ve just been very busy. Which is good, of course, but at the moment it’s all about keeping the customer satisfied. Not that you need reminding of that.’ He grinned at her.

‘Oh, we do our best,’ she said. ‘That’s why Sheridan’s
here. I’m running an advertorial in the
News
. Got to remind the people of Ardbawn that no matter what’s going on in their lives, it’s good to have some pamper time, as she’s hopefully discovered.’

‘Did you have a nice pampering?’ Joe turned to Sheridan.

‘Absolutely.’

‘I’m trying to persuade her to come in for some targeted treatments,’ said Ritz.

Sheridan held her breath. If the spa manager came up with a list of her beauty failings in front of Joe, she’d clock her.

‘You look fine to me the way you are,’ Joe told her. ‘Treatments are all very well, but it’s what’s inside that counts.’

‘You’re such a charmer!’ Ritz looked at him indulgently and then made an exclamation of annoyance as her mobile shrilled. ‘What?’ she said into it. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. No. No. I’ll be right there.’ She stood up. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Small crisis downstairs. They can’t manage without me.’ She smiled at Sheridan. ‘I hope you have everything you need, but feel free to call me if there’s anything else.’

‘I should be OK,’ said Sheridan. ‘I have all your brochures and, of course, my very own sublime experience to talk about. I’ll send you the copy for approval tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Great, thanks.’ Then she turned a mega-watt beam towards Joe. ‘Don’t be a stranger,’ she said. ‘Call in more often.’

‘I’ll try,’ said Joe. ‘I promise.’

Sheridan wasn’t sure what she should do next. She still had more than half the chicken salad on her plate, but she was totally unable to eat it with Joe standing beside the table sending shivers up and down her spine. She wanted him to stay. But she knew it would be better if he went.

‘D’you want to join me?’ she heard herself asking when she realised he wasn’t leaving.

‘That’d be good,’ said Joe. ‘I hate eating on my own. I was going to go to the bar and have their cottage pie and chips, but looking at you with the salad, I’d feel too guilty.’

‘Oh, listen, I would’ve loved the cottage pie and chips too.’ Sheridan realised that she was speaking like a normal person even though every nerve end still tingled. ‘But after having the treatments, I thought the least I could do was make an effort.’

Joe laughed. ‘I’ll keep you company in your misery,’ he said. ‘They do a nice goat’s-cheese tart thingy here, and although I wouldn’t put it down as a decent meal for a starving man, it does have a lot of flavour. Perhaps I could persuade them to add some chips to it, which would help.’

I want to run away with him, she thought, but I’m talking to him about goat’s cheese. Which is probably telling me something, only I don’t know what.

While she stayed silent, totally unsure of what to say next, Joe called the waitress over and gave his order.

‘So,’ he said, after she’d gone, ‘how are you enjoying the
Central News
and Ardbawn?’

‘More and more as time goes by.’ The nerve-jangling had eased off a little and she felt able to reply. ‘It’s not like I’ll stay here, of course, but it’s a good experience.’

‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it.’

‘And it’s giving me lots of ideas for the future.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. All I have to do is act on them. Easier said than done, but hopefully my plans will work out.’

She was proud of the way she’d got herself under control and was having a conversation with him now. Even though all her senses seemed to be on high alert in his company, she was also feeling herself begin to relax. He told her that he hoped her ideas would pan out too, and that she’d continue to enjoy her time in Ardbawn, which, he said, was one of the nicest towns in Ireland.

The waitress arrived with his food. The sight of the chips made Sheridan’s mouth water despite the fact that she hadn’t truly regained her appetite. She recalled friends who said that they’d lost weight when they were in love because they couldn’t eat. She’d been unable to imagine such a scenario before. But she was unexpectedly living it now.

I’m not in love, she reminded herself sharply. I’m just . . . just . . . it’s some weird physical thing. Pheromones or something. Because it’s not possible to love someone you don’t know. Love doesn’t come at you as a physical force. It’s part and parcel of being caught up with a person, not just looking at them and being very grateful they can’t read your mind because you’re having disgracefully erotic thoughts about them. And yet, she thought, there’s something about this man . . . something that . . .

And then she remembered that the something about him was the fact that he was married and therefore not available to her. That even contemplating a relationship of any sort with him was ridiculous. And very, very wrong.

But how is it, she asked herself, that the one time I find what it is that everyone talks about, the one time I’m totally overwhelmed by feelings for someone, I end up with the married man who has a home-cooking wife and cute kid? Why don’t I find the gorgeous single guy who’s overwhelmed by me too?

Because I’m a loser. She answered her own question. Because I’m the kind of person who has a great job and loses it. And a boyfriend who might’ve turned out OK if I hadn’t got it all wrong and lost him too.

Loser.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

‘Of course.’ She pushed her hair out of her eyes and wondered if she was trying to look sexy doing it. She let her hands drop again. ‘Thinking random thoughts . . . nothing.’

His dark blue eyes regarded her studiously.

‘I thought you might be looking down on me,’ he said. ‘Thinking I was a country bumpkin.’

‘Absolutely not.’ Her response was too vehement, she thought. She needed to tone it down a bit. Get back on track. She poked at her salad.

‘So tell me about yourself,’ said Joe.