‘It seems I don’t have a fucking choice then, do I?’ he said bitterly.
‘Not really, no,’ Francesca agreed as she stood up to go. ‘You made your choice when you started seeing that woman. But she can have you now. You can marry
her
and make an honest woman of her.’ Her tone was acerbic and for Mark the last straw.
‘Listen, you, one marriage was more than enough, believe me. You’ve turned into such a bitch, Francesca, I wouldn’t wish you on my worst enemy,’ he burst out.
‘Oh dear,’ murmured Francesca. ‘Poor Nikki, she seems to have her heart set on becoming the next Mrs Kirwan. Still, it’s no skin off my nose and it’s none of my business. You sort out your affairs, Mark, and I’ll sort out mine.’ She dropped a business card on the table. ‘My solicitor’s name and address. She’s very good at family law, I gather. She’ll be writing to you.’
Mark picked up the card and threw it in the bin.
‘Don’t be childish, Mark, it doesn’t suit the image,’ Francesca advised as she walked out of the door. She was on an absolute high. Now Mark was the helpless one, she gloated, remembering her own fear and
terror
when she’d discovered him kissing that woman at Dublin Airport. Now he was the one who would suffer the torment of sleepless nights just as she had. She’d really hurt him where it hurt most. His purse strings. And best of all she’d heard him declare with his own lips that he wasn’t going to marry again. Nikki Langan was on a hiding to nothing and, what was more, she knew it, Francesca thought with immense satisfaction. Soon she’d know what it was like to be rejected. Soon she’d know hurt and pain and grief and rage and sorrow when she finally realized that Mark had only been using her. See how strong the relationship was now, Francesca laughed to herself. Having a lot in common would not be enough to keep a woman whose heart was set on marriage happy. She’d like to be a fly on the wall in the apartment tonight, she mused happily as she took the lift to the foyer and strolled out of the door, astonished at what she’d achieved.
Bubbling with adrenalin, she dialled Millie’s number. ‘Hi, it’s me,’ she said gaily when she heard her sister answer. ‘Guess what? I’ve just told Nikki Langan she can have Mark, I’m divorcing him. And I know I’ve just given my cheating husband the biggest squit attack he’s ever going to have. When I told him I was putting the house on the market and wanted half the proceeds he got such a shock I thought he was going to make me a widow there and then,’ Francesca gabbled.
‘What?’ shrieked Millie agog. ‘I don’t
believe
it. We have to meet. I want to hear every single syllable. My God, girl, but you don’t waste time. I can’t let you out of my sight for ten seconds and there you
are,
practically divorced. I take my hat off to you. What brought this on? What did Nikki say when you told her? Where did you meet her or did you meet the two of them together? This is so
frustrating
. I want to hear all about it right this second!’
‘Can you come into town on the Dart now? I could meet you for lunch in the Harbour Master in the IFSC,’ Francesca suggested.
‘You’re on. The kids are gone on a day trip to Butlin’s for their summer project. I’ll be there lickety split,’ said Millie. ‘Way to go, babe. Way to go. I’m dang proud of ya.’
‘Oh, Millie, I’m dang proud of myself. I feel scared and excited at the same time. I’m on a high now, I hope I won’t change my mind when I come back down to earth.’
‘And let Mark off the hook? Don’t talk rot,’ scoffed her sister. ‘See you soon.’
Mark sat at his desk with his head in his hands. His stomach was churning. He felt nauseous. Was he having the worst nightmare of his life? Would he wake up in a minute bathed in sweat but feeling utterly relieved? The phone rang, its discreet but persistent burr letting him know in no uncertain terms that he was wide awake and enduring a catastrophe.
‘Hello? … Oh, hi, Nikki,’ he said slowly.
‘Is Francesca gone?’ Nikki asked.
‘Yeah,’ he said wearily.
‘Does she really want a divorce?’
‘It seems so,’ Mark answered guardedly.
‘I see. You’d better get a good lawyer,’ Nikki
advised
coolly. ‘Oh, and by the way, it’s all around the building that Francesca was in, and it’s getting more lurid by the minute, seemingly. She could have had the decency to meet us outside of work.’
‘Well, she didn’t,’ snapped Mark. ‘Look, I have to go. I’ll see you at home tonight.’
‘What about lunch?’
‘I can’t,’ Mark responded. ‘See you later.’ He put the phone down and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He could have met Nikki for lunch but right now he just wanted to go into some crowded anonymous pub and nurse his sorrows over a pint. Not only was he going to have to deal with Francesca and this divorce whim, he was going to have to tread very carefully with Nikki. He could see signs of a major battle about ‘commitment’ coming up, especially after her tirade in Mamma Mia’s the other day. Mark groaned at the idea.
He truly didn’t want a divorce. It would make his life extremely complicated and life was bad enough as it was at the moment. He desperately didn’t want to sell his beloved house. How could Francesca want to leave it? He’d hated leaving it. He held it very dear. All the memories of their children were entwined with that house. He’d banked on sentiment keeping her there. He’d have to cash in a hell of a lot of his investments to pay Francesca her share of the market value of the house. Or else borrow. What a pain in the ass at his age.
And even if he did buy her out, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to live there with Nikki. That would seem strange, out of kilter in some way. It wasn’t a Nikki sort of a house. Besides, she’d want to refurbish and
redecorate
and that would cost another arm and a leg and it certainly wasn’t a house for the modern, minimalist-style décor she liked.
Mark shook his head, almost dazed. There had to be some way around this. Surely he could talk Francesca out of it. She wasn’t thinking straight, she couldn’t be. She wasn’t herself, he thought agitatedly.
But she didn’t look like a woman in disarray. She’d looked extremely well, better than he’d seen her look in ages, especially with the tan. But it was more than the tan that made the difference. There was a spark there that he hadn’t seen in a long time. Some of her old vibrancy was back. And there was a hint of steel that he’d seen rarely in their marriage. Now she was so cold and vengeful. Not the Francesca he knew at all. It was true what they said about a woman scorned. Mark leaned forward in his chair and picked the business card he’d discarded earlier out of the bin. Jessica O’Farrell. He’d never heard of her. According to Francesca she knew her stuff on family law. Mark knew enough himself to know that he was on very shaky grounds contesting the divorce if Francesca truly wanted one. He also knew that unless they were in agreement on all points it could be an extremely costly business. If they were going to divorce it was in both their best interests to be in accord. But surely she really couldn’t be serious about it. Starting afresh at this stage of her life must be a daunting prospect. Buying a house, taking a new job that paid buttons – why was she putting herself to such trouble and upheaval when he had provided her with an extremely comfortable lifestyle and made no fuss about it either? He just couldn’t understand
her
reasoning. He’d have to think of some way around it. But what?
And Nikki? Did she really want marriage? She had it all as it was. Why on earth would she want to change the status quo? He didn’t want to marry her. It was nothing to do with his feelings for her. After his experiences with Francesca he simply wasn’t anxious to go down that path again. Maybe he could plead religion and pretend that he didn’t believe in divorce, he thought gloomily. He could say it was a deep-rooted conviction despite the fact that he didn’t observe any religious practices. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been at Mass. Nikki would never believe him. It
was
a pathetic cop-out, he conceded. He could hardly insult the woman’s intelligence with it.
His life was in total crisis, Mark thought morosely as he pulled on his trench coat. Maybe he’d be inspired over a pint. Because if ever he needed help and inspiration it was now.
Nikki chewed the end of her silver Sheaffer fountain pen, a gift from Mark. This should be one of the happiest days of her life. Francesca was doing exactly what Nikki had wanted her to do all along. She was divorcing Mark. He was going to be a free man. So why was she miserable? Why did she have this feeling of dread and what felt like a block of cement lodged in the pit of her stomach? Why was she so afraid that even though things seemed to be going just the way she wanted them to, it was all going very badly wrong?
It was the way Francesca had swanned in, looking
not
the slightest bit slobby but tanned, vibrant and very elegant – and, even worse, completely in control. Nikki had hardly recognized her as the same woman who’d opened the door to her in her dressing gown. The patronizing way she’d told Nikki that she could have Mark as though she were handing him over on a plate grated. Nikki grimaced. There was something almost spiteful in the way Mark’s wife had behaved. There’d been a look of triumph in her eyes that worried Nikki.
What had made the other woman change her mind about the divorce? She’d been so adamant that she wasn’t divorcing Mark, the day Nikki had confronted her. Why this sudden sea change?
And Mark? What about him? Nikki thought uneasily. He’d sounded shattered on the phone and he wouldn’t have lunch with her. Surely he’d be glad to have things sorted. They couldn’t keep going on in this limbo for ever, neither one thing nor another. Divorce was the only logical step, couldn’t he see that? She knew he didn’t want to sell the house. But it was only bricks and mortar and besides it was worth a fortune. Liquidating an asset like that would be a smart move, especially as he’d make an enormous profit from it. So what if he had to give half to Francesca? He’d still have plenty left over to buy a big new house for himself … and her.
But that was the problem. She knew that he’d feel trapped. And that wasn’t the way she wanted things to happen. Why couldn’t it have been him that pressed for the divorce? Why hadn’t he wanted her enough to make the moves? Why had he been so passive about it all? He’d have left things the way
they
were for ever and a day, Nikki thought angrily. He made no concession to her feelings at all. Would this new development change things? He’d been pretty cool with her since her outburst in the restaurant.
Her private Christmas deadline was looming and if things hadn’t changed radically by then he was out on his ear. There was no point in hanging on if the writing was on the wall. She wasn’t that much of a wimp. She’d play things cool for a while. She wouldn’t even mention the divorce unless he brought it up. In fact she’d phone one of her friends and arrange to go out clubbing tonight. That would show him just how blasé she seemed about the whole thing, Nikki decided as she scrolled through her palm-top diary looking for her friend’s work number.
Elaine knocked and came into the office. She seemed to have a knowing smirk on her plain face. It was a mega pain in the ass working in the same building as Mark. Everybody seemed to know their damn business. No doubt Elaine and her silly friends had been down gossiping at the photocopier.
‘Yes?’ she said curtly.
‘Here’s the Richmond Bank file you were looking for,’ Elaine said sweetly. ‘Can I get you coffee or anything?’
‘No, thank you. Oh, and Elaine’ – she handed her secretary two typed letters – ‘there were several errors in these letters you typed out for me this morning. You obviously didn’t have your mind on the job and it’s simply not good enough. Kindly do them again, immediately,’ she instructed coldly. ‘I want them to catch today’s post.’
‘Sorry,’ muttered Elaine, taking the letters which were held out to her so disdainfully between finger and thumb. Sarky bitch, she swore silently as she closed the door behind her.
That wiped the knowing smirk off your smug little face
, Nikki thought with some small degree of satisfaction. Maybe she should go and look for a job with another organization. She’d have no problem getting a position elsewhere, but she liked her work at EuroBank Irl., the remunerations were excellent and it was far too high a price to pay to leave her job because of a relationship that was possibly going nowhere. She could change her secretary though, she thought nastily. She was going to start a little file on Madame Elaine. Shoddy work was not acceptable. From now on, Elaine was on borrowed time.
Nikki stood up and stretched wearily. Elaine wasn’t her problem really, she was just an irritation. Mark was her problem. Or rather her needs in relation to Mark were her problem. One way or another she was going to have to deal with it. Putting time frames on it was only putting it off. Christmas seemed like a long way away, she thought despondently as she waited for her friend to answer her phone.
‘I’D LOVE TO
have seen her face.’ Millie laughed as she sipped her cappuccino. ‘But are you really sure it’s what you want? You’ve thought it all out?’ she asked.
Francesca shook her head. ‘I haven’t thought it out at all, beyond knowing that I want a house that’s mine. And I want to keep working and I suppose really I want some sort of closure – isn’t that what the Americans call it? If Mark hadn’t been such a condescending shit about my job I’m not sure I’d have made the decision so fast. It was the last straw, Millie. He made me as mad as hell and then when he kept going on about the house being
our
house I felt a total lack of control over my life. So I’m taking my control back.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Ma will be horrified.’
‘Poor Ma,’ her sister said fondly. ‘We’re a grave disappointment to her. Do you think Mark will ever marry Nikki? Would you mind if he did?’ she asked, in her usual forthright way.
‘I suppose I would get a bit of a shock,’ Francesca
admitted.
‘Especially when part of the reason I’m asking him for the divorce is to make him run a mile from such an eventuality. He really was horrified. He certainly never thought that
I’d
be the one asking for a divorce. It’s awful. All the affection I ever had for him is gone and I just want to hurt him the way he’s hurting me. It was a great feeling to know that I was getting to him. Doesn’t say much about me, does it, I suppose.’ Francesca made a face.