His secretary buzzed him. ‘Charles de Fressange on line from Paris.’
‘Fine. Put him through,’ Mark instructed. He’d try home later in the morning and if there was no answer he’d buzz Francesca on the mobile. After all, he had a legitimate excuse. If you could call Viv Cassidy an excuse. It was awful to think that he needed an excuse to talk to the woman he’d shared his life with for twenty years, he thought sadly. Francesca really needed to grow up and let bygones be bygones. She’d held the grudge long enough.
‘
Bonjour
, Mark.’ The deep fruity tones of his French colleague came down the line clear as a bell and Mark turned his attention to matters that were far more pressing than Viv Cassidy trying to contact his estranged wife.
‘This is the life.’ Francesca turned over on her tummy and felt the sun’s rays warm on her back.
‘I was born for this.’ Millie stretched luxuriously on her lounger. They’d just finished a tasty lunch at the poolside restaurant and were preparing to have a nice snooze under their gaily coloured yellow umbrellas.
‘I’m going to sleep my brains out this week,’ Millie declared.
‘Do you miss the kids?’ Francesca asked sympathetically.
‘Nope. I’m delighted Aidan is having quality time with them,’ Millie said firmly and Francesca laughed.
‘It was good of him to take the week off and let you go away.’
‘For crying out loud, Francesca, what are you on about?’ Millie said irritably. ‘He gets away for his rugby weekends and his fishing weekends. I’m
entitled
. If you’d have heard them in school. “Isn’t he wonderful?” “Isn’t he supportive?” “You’re very lucky, my fella wouldn’t do that for me.” It’s ridiculous. No-one ever tells me I’m wonderful or I’m supportive when I have them day in day out and when Aidan’s away.’
‘I suppose,’ Francesca murmured.
‘Well, it’s true. Women are expected to do everything. Work, look after the kids and run the home
and
if the man mucks in now and again she’s considered lucky.’
‘Aidan is much more hands on than Mark was,’ Francesca remarked.
‘That’s because I’m working outside the home. He has to be. If I’d stayed at home like you did I can guarantee you his contribution would be much less – and I don’t mean that in a nasty way. It’s just the way it goes. Deep in their hearts men still see women in the role of mother and nurturer and that’s never going to change.’ Millie settled herself more comfortably having vented her indignation.
‘I wonder, does Nikki Langan want children?’ Francesca rested her chin on her hands. ‘She certainly doesn’t seem the mother/nurturer type.’
‘Mark would get some shock if she got pregnant. Wouldn’t he?’ Millie chuckled. ‘The last thing he’d want is a baby.’
‘They seem very happy though. It might happen in the future,’ Francesca said glumly. ‘They went to Kinsale for a couple of days.’
‘That’s nice for them,’ Millie said drily. ‘They might seem very happy but he isn’t in any apparent rush to divorce you and marry her. I’m telling you, Francesca, he has the best of both worlds. Would you take him back if he came back to you?’ she asked curiously.
‘I don’t know,’ Francesca admitted. ‘Sometimes I think I would. Other times I vow I wouldn’t. It depends on the humour I’m in. I’m terribly lonely. I miss waking up on a Saturday morning and having a snuggle and making plans for the day. I miss having someone to talk to – you know, the “wait until I tell
you”
bit. The house is like a morgue. It’s so quiet, it’s eerie.’
‘Sell it,’ Millie retorted.
‘Sell it?’ Francesca echoed. ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that. It’s the family home.’
‘Francesca, my dear girl, Jonathan’s in the States and what’s the betting Owen won’t stay there too? Mark’s done a bunk. There’s nothing to stop you and Mark selling the house and you getting half the proceeds and buying a smaller place of your own. Jonathan and Owen can always come and stay. It would be a new start. I think it would be very good for you.’
‘Mark wouldn’t agree. I don’t think he’d ever want to sell.’
‘Fuck him, Francesca. This is not about what he wants, it’s about what you want. And I can tell you one thing here and now: if you want to sabotage that relationship of his the one way to do it is to tell Mark that you want a divorce.
‘If you divorce him, he’s no excuse not to marry your one. If he wanted to marry her he’d have asked for a divorce long ago. He’s only using you as an excuse to keep her at bay,’ Millie said sagely. ‘She’s desperate. Otherwise she would never have come calling on you that day. You divorce him and they’ll be split up in six months.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know so,’ Millie said confidently. ‘And then he’ll come running back to you and you’ll be holding the trump cards.’
‘Could you imagine what Ma would say if I told her I was getting a divorce?’ Francesca groaned.
‘Tough, Francesca. She’ll just have to get over it. You only have one life, you can’t live it to suit Ma’s sensibilities. It was bad enough when she heard that I was going away for a week and leaving the kids with Aidan. Boy did I get flared nostrils and disapproving sniffs. You work out what’s best for you, not what’s best for Mark or Ma or anyone else.’
‘Oh, let’s not think about things like that just now,’ Francesca murmured. ‘Let’s just enjoy the sun.’
‘Sorry for lecturing,’ Millie apologized. ‘I didn’t mean to get up on my high horse.’
‘I know,’ Francesca said fondly. ‘You’d think it would be the other way around, me being the eldest and all.’
‘You couldn’t lecture if your life depended on it. I got all the bossy genes.’ Millie yawned. ‘Wake me up for a cocktail at four.’
‘Yes, boss,’ Francesca drawled. She closed her eyes and felt the tiredness of the past months drain away as a delicious lethargy suffused her body and she drowsed under the hot sun.
It was a delightful snooze and she felt refreshed an hour later when she woke up. Millie was snoring gently beside her. Francesca gazed in envy at her younger sister’s long golden limbs. Naturally athletic, her work as a gym teacher kept her fit and toned and beside her Francesca felt flabby and matronly. On the lounger next to her, a young blonde German girl sunbathed gracefully. Wearing only the skimpiest thong, she looked like a supermodel. It was depressing to say the least so Francesca averted her envious gaze and decided to go for a swim. Some brisk laps of the pool might help to stop everything from going
south.
She’d start her fitness regime in Portugal with swimming and walking and keep it up when she got home, she decided.
The water was cool and soothing to her warm limbs and Francesca swam contentedly, emptying her mind of thoughts and just concentrating on her stroke.
Millie had just woken up when she emerged twenty minutes later, invigorated. ‘It was fabulous. I really enjoyed it. You should get in,’ she told her sister.
‘Maybe later,’ Millie said lazily. ‘I’m thirsty. Is it cocktail time?’
‘Any time is cocktail time.’ Francesca grinned. ‘What do you want?’
‘I think a dressed Pimm’s might hit the spot.’
‘Hmmm, sounds good to me. I’ll go and get them.’
‘Thank you, wee slavie.’ Millie stretched languorously and turned on her side to ensure an all-round tan. She watched her sister weave her way between the loungers. She was so glad that she’d acted on impulse and booked the holiday for them, and for all her giving out, Aidan hadn’t minded a bit about taking a week off to mind the kids. She’d buy him something really nice; she was looking forward to a good dollop of child-free shopping.
She heard a faint melodic tone coming from the depths of Francesca’s beach bag. It was hardly Aidan, she’d spoken to him earlier in the day on Francesca’s phone. Her own mobile wasn’t able to receive calls outside of Ireland.
She rooted frantically and found the ringing phone. ‘Hello?’
‘Who’s that?’
Millie’s jaw dropped. It was Mark. She hadn’t spoken to him since Francesca had kicked him out.
‘It’s Millie,’ she said shortly.
‘Oh. Oh, Millie. How’s it going? Could I speak to Francesca please?’ He sounded uncomfortable.
‘Aaah, she’s … she’s in the Ladies at the moment,’ Millie fibbed. She wasn’t sure if Francesca had said anything to Mark about her holiday. She had the feeling that she hadn’t.
‘Where are you?’ Mark asked casually.
‘Out,’ she said tersely. ‘I’ll get Francesca to call you back. Bye.’
She sat chewing her lip. Should she tell Francesca that Mark had called? Maybe it was something urgent. Although he hadn’t sounded as though anything was amiss. It was obvious he didn’t know that she and Francesca were on holiday. Otherwise he surely wouldn’t have asked where were they. What a nuisance. And so early into their holiday too. She saw Francesca heading back towards her carrying a tray.
‘Got us some peanuts and crisps to keep us going,’ she said cheerfully as she handed Millie a tall, ice-cold glass with a cocktail umbrella stuck in a red cherry.
‘Thanks,’ murmured Millie, taking a sip. It was delicious. ‘What did you get?’
‘A daiquiri.’ Francesca settled on her lounger and took a slug.
‘Er … there was a phone call for you when you were gone.’
‘Oh? Who was it?’ Francesca popped a couple of
peanuts
into her mouth and proffered the dish to Millie.
‘Ah … um … it was Mark.’
‘Bloody hell!’ Francesca fumed. ‘Oh shit! That’s all I need. What on earth does he want?’
‘WHAT DID HE
say? What did you say to him? I bet he got a surprise to hear you at the other end of the phone,’ Francesca said grimly.
‘He didn’t know who I was at first. I had to tell him,’ Millie replied. ‘He asked where we were.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘I just said we were out and that I’d tell you to call him back. Then I hung up. I wasn’t too anxious to get into a conversation with brother-in-law dearest. He obviously doesn’t know that we’re away on holiday,’ she remarked casually.
‘I didn’t tell him.’
‘Well, why should you? It’s none of his business what you do any more.’
‘I haven’t told him that I’ve got a job either,’ Francesca said defiantly as she downed her drink.
‘That’s none of his business either,’ Millie retorted.
‘Well, I was going to tell him after a while. It’s only fair so that he can adjust my allowance,’ Francesca
said
slowly. ‘I just wanted to make sure that I liked the work and see that I could handle the job first.’
Millie’s face darkened. ‘Don’t call it an allowance, Francesca. It’s money you’re damn well entitled to.’
‘Ach, Millie, I hate taking his money. I feel I’m a dependant. I want to have my own money. That’s why I took the job. I want to stand on my own two feet and not be under an obligation to him. It’s horrible to feel beholden.’
‘But you’re
not
beholden to him, Francesca. You’re entitled to half of everything up until the time you separated anyway. And he knows that.’
‘He’s not too bad. He’s not tight with the money,’ Francesca defended her ex.
‘He’s keeping you sweet, that’s why. Francesca, he knows you could cause him plenty of hassle. Do you want to stay living in the house on your own? Would you not like a fresh start in a place that’s yours?’ Millie persisted.
‘It would be nice, I suppose,’ Francesca admitted.
‘Well, divorce the bastard and get what you’re entitled to from the sale of the house. It’s worth a mint and at least you’ll have security at your back and a place of your own. And he’ll weep into his coffee every morning, I can guarantee that. I’m telling you, Francesca, half the separated men in Ireland who are with other women nearly had a mickey-fit when divorce was introduced there, because they were perfectly happy the way they were. And Mark’s one of them.’
‘I suppose I’d better call him back and see what’s up.’
‘Don’t be in a rush.’ Millie sniffed. ‘I’d let him cool his heels. In fact I wouldn’t even bother to return his call until you get back.’
‘Well, I’d prefer to call him now and get it over and done with. Otherwise I’ll be lying here on edge wondering what’s up,’ Francesca said mildly.
‘You’re too soft with him, Francesca. You let him away with murder,’ Millie said crossly.
She laughed at her sister’s indignation. ‘He’s not the devil incarnate, Millie.’
‘Listen to you defending him. Can’t you see he’s controlling you? I just don’t like to see him pulling your strings. Take a bit of control back,’ her sister advised bluntly.
‘He’s not controlling me,’ Francesca said hotly.
‘Well, we’re looking at it from different sides of the fence,’ Millie retorted.
Francesca scowled. She hadn’t come on holiday to be lectured by Millie. And blast Mark for calling her and ruining the lovely relaxing tenor of their afternoon. She picked up her phone and dialled his number.
‘Hi. Millie gave you the message,’ he said silkily.
‘Yes! What’s the problem?’ Her frosty tone let him know that she was not interested in polite chit-chat.
‘Viv Cassidy phoned me. She was looking for you to play a game of mixed doubles. Said she hadn’t seen you around at home and couldn’t get you on the phone. So she rang me hoping I could give you the message,’ Mark explained patiently.
‘Did she now? Well she won’t get me at home
because
I’m not at home. I’m in Portugal,’ Francesca snapped.
‘Oh! You never told me you were going away.’ He sounded miffed.
‘Why should I? It’s none of your business,’ Francesca said coldly. Millie gave her the thumbs up.
‘Don’t be such an ungracious cow, Francesca,’ Mark exploded. ‘If you’d have told me you were going I could have given you something extra in this month’s cheque, that’s all. I was only trying to be nice. I’m sure a few extra bob would have come in handy.’
‘Mark, I don’t need your charity and please don’t ring me again unless it’s absolutely necessary,’ Francesca raged, furious at being made to feel like a pauper yet again.
‘Francesca Kirwan, you’re a childish, ungrateful, self-centred—’
Francesca didn’t wait to hear the rest of his diatribe. She hung up and flung her phone into the bag. ‘Patronizing bastard!’ she hissed wrathfully.