She was right to be browned-off with him. He was venting all his anger about Francesca onto her. Which wasn’t fair, he admitted. He was behaving like an ostrich with its head in the sand but it had hurt that Nikki had accused him of behaving like a sulky little boy and being a dog in the manger. He felt he’d been more than fair to Francesca but she obviously didn’t see it like that. It hurt that she wanted to go it alone. Providing for her helped assuage his guilt for having the affair with Nikki. His house was visible, tangible evidence of his hard-won achievements. Selling it was like watching his carefully constructed kingdom erode and crumble away. He felt like he was standing on shifting sands and it was most
unnerving.
Couldn’t Francesca or Nikki understand how
he
felt? If push came to shove he could release capital from his offshore accounts, but it was risky to say the least with all the furore surrounding unpaid DIRT tax at the moment. He’d prefer to keep a low profile in that area. But to have to hand over three times what he’d paid for his home fifteen years ago and watch Francesca swanning off with a fortune would be too much to bear.
He’d have a chat with his solicitor, he decided, maybe he might be able to come up with something. And he’d better arrange to have some flowers sent to Nikki before she left for her unknown destination. He’d have them sent to the bank; she’d be sure to get them there.
When he arrived at the EuroBank’s French HQ, a confrontation of some sort was taking place in the foyer. He recognized Jean Boudet, one of the investment fund managers, arguing furiously with security men.
‘What was all that about downstairs with Boudet?’ he asked Louis Vevasse as he took the mug of coffee proffered by the younger man.
‘Didn’t you hear? Boudet’s leaving. He’s been head-hunted by the Germans for VWB Investment. Security won’t let him up to his office to collect his personal belongings.’ Louis gave an eloquent Gallic shrug. ‘Standard procedure, of course. They’ll be posted out to him. He knows that. Why does he think it should be different for him? Boudet always likes to cause a scene. He’s always the prima donna, no?’
‘VWB, big money there,’ Mark said enviously. ‘Wish they’d head-hunt me.’
Louis laughed. ‘Fund managers live short lives. You, my friend, would truly not want his job. And did you hear George Dupont had a nervous breakdown? He’s been given early retirement whether he likes it or not.
Mon Dieu
, he’s only forty. We must be
crazeee
, Mark, to work in this business. But I love it.’
You’re riding high now. But talk to me in ten years’ time
, Mark thought as he opened his briefcase and took out the files he needed. His head had eased off a little. The coffee was helping. Vevasse was a gossipy, sly little operator. Mark didn’t want him making any comments to interested ears that he’d been hungover or below par. He took a deep breath, focused his mind and said briskly, ‘Let’s get down to business, Louis, we have a lot to cover.’
‘
Oui
,
oui
,’ the Frenchman agreed. Minutes later the two bankers were in deep discussion and all of Mark’s other worries were well and truly relegated. Work, as always, took top priority.
Nikki checked the sheaf of letters Elaine had given her to sign. No mistakes. Was that good or bad? she pondered. Given that she was trying to get rid of the little madam a mistake here or there would have suited her purpose, but Elaine was obviously on the ball today and they were all perfect. She signed them in her stylish script and was about to press the intercom to call her secretary when Elaine knocked on the door.
‘Come in,’ Nikki called. She couldn’t contain her surprise when she saw her secretary standing at the door with a large bouquet of yellow roses and a smaller one of freesias.
Elaine smirked. ‘These came for you.’
‘Thank you, Elaine.’ Nikki smiled sweetly. ‘And these are for you.’ She handed her the sheaf of signed letters. ‘And this’ – she picked up another document – ‘is a list of work I want you to do while I’m away. Thank you.’ She nodded her dismissal.
‘I’ll get a vase, shall I?’ the younger woman said sulkily.
‘No, I’ll take them with me.’ Nikki lowered her head and began to write, much to Elaine’s disappointment. She was dying to know whom the flowers were from. The card accompanying them had been sealed, otherwise she would have had a quick peek. Mark would hardly have sent them to her at the bank. He wasn’t at all flashy. He rarely came to her office even. And when they were together they were always extremely businesslike and not at all lovey-dovey, much to Elaine’s chagrin. A romantic at heart, she was always eagle-eyed, hoping to catch some little interaction. What he saw in that hard bitch was a mystery to Elaine. Francesca was much nicer. Maybe Nikki had a new admirer and the great romance was heading for the skids. Hmmm, interesting, thought Elaine as she folded the letters neatly and slid them into the typed envelopes. She paused at her task and went off into a little daydream. If the love story was ended maybe she could offer succour to the rather yummy Mark who, despite his somewhat reserved ways, was a popular boss and well liked. The quiet ones were always the most interesting and Mark, even though he was older than a lot of the hot shots in the office, could give them all a run for their money in the
‘intriguing’
stakes. Nikki Langan didn’t deserve him!
Nikki ripped open the sealed envelope that accompanied the flowers, and read the enclosed message with a mixture of emotions.
Sorry, darling. I love you. I sent the flowers to work to make sure you got them before you went away, hope you don’t mind. Have a nice break, ring me if you feel like it
.
Not only had he sent yellow roses, he’d also sent her beautiful sweet-scented freesias, her favourite flower.
That
was thoughtful, she conceded. But it didn’t solve any of their problems. And it gave her another more immediate one. She’d taken his cases out of the storage press and left them on the bed with a curt note asking him to be out of the apartment by the time she got back on Friday. After this gesture of reconciliation, did she still want him to move out or would she give it one more try and wait until Christmas, which was her original plan? Nikki drummed her fingers on her desk. If he’d just sent the roses, she might not have bothered. Anyone could send roses. But the freesias were a thoughtful and loving gesture and maybe if left on his own for the few days he might suddenly realize that he was putting their relationship in jeopardy by his behaviour. Her heart softened. He’d obviously been thinking about her and how he’d treated her and guilt had set in. That was a positive step.
She’d go home en route to Wicklow and put the cases back in the storage press and tear up the note.
She
might let him cool his heels for a day or two before she phoned. She’d see. Nikki slipped the note back into the envelope and put it in her bag. She was always extremely careful about what she left lying around the office. She certainly wouldn’t put it past Elaine to go snooping in the bin. Well, little madam wouldn’t find much there, she thought in satisfaction as she buried her nose among the freesias. Mark had written that he loved her but it would take more than a bouquet or two of flowers to convince her that he was serious.
‘Simon, I need to talk to you sooner rather than later. Francesca wants a divorce. I don’t. She wants to sell the house and split the proceeds, I don’t—’
‘Is it in joint names?’ Simon Carter’s calm voice crackled across the airwaves. It was a very bad line to Dublin. Mark was in his hotel room preparing to leave.
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Hmmm. Who’s acting for her?’
‘Someone called O’Farrell, Monica I think is the name.’
‘Jessica O’Farrell, she’s excellent. She specializes in family law. Hmmm. Look, we’ll talk when you get back from Paris. How about tomorrow morning, nine a.m? I’ll reschedule that appointment.’
‘Appreciate it, Simon,’ Mark said. ‘See you then.’ He put the phone down and went and stood at the window. It was a hot muggy day and a low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.
There had been no reassuring words from Simon. Even though he had to be realistic he’d been hoping
against
hope that Simon would say something comforting like:
Don’t worry, we’ll sort it out
. His ‘hmmms’ hadn’t sounded at all reassuring.
He glanced at his watch. Two-fifteen. Nikki should surely have got her flowers by now. He’d had his phone turned off for his meeting with Vevasse but there were no messages, not even a text message to say thanks. She must still be pretty mad with him. He sighed. He didn’t feel like going to work straight from the airport, he felt like going to bed and sleeping his brains out. Maybe he’d do just that. To hell with the whizz kids hot on his heels. He was tired, still hungover, and his life was about to be turned upside down. What was the point in killing himself before he’d endured all the hassle? he thought wryly. What he’d really like to do was sit out in his back garden in Howth with a chilled beer from the fridge and the
Irish Times
crossword but it looked like he might never do that again. A wave of grief and sadness enveloped him and Mark sat on the side of the bed and buried his face in his hands as hot tears spurted between his fingers and sobs racked his body.
‘FRANCESCA, I’M TERRIBLY
sorry. My bank manager wouldn’t sanction the loan because the mortgage we have is still too big, and he wouldn’t let me remortgage because he didn’t have cast-iron guarantees that you’d be able to come up with the money. I did my best,’ Aidan assured her as they sat in her kitchen having a quick cup of coffee before going to work.
‘Don’t worry about it, Aidan. Thinking about it afterwards, I realized I wouldn’t have been happy about it anyway. Not until I see what way the divorce goes. I basically shouldn’t have gone looking at houses until I had cash.’ Francesca gave her brother-in-law a hug and received a warm one back in return.
‘Would you like me to speak to Mark?’ he offered.
‘Aidan, I wouldn’t let you waste your breath, but thanks a million for offering. It’s nice to get the support and I can never thank you and Millie enough for the way you’ve stood by me,’ Francesca said gratefully. ‘I’m going back to my solicitor next week
and
we’ll take it from there. If Mark wants to get nasty, it’s up to him, but he’ll find I’m no pushover.’
‘Well, any time you need us, you know we’re there, and I hope it won’t turn nasty and that Mark sees sense. I think he’s probably being stubborn because you’ve asked for a divorce. I would imagine he wasn’t expecting that,’ her brother-in-law said easily. ‘He might see it differently when he’s had time to think.’
‘It will be too late for me then, unfortunately, that mews will be snapped up,’ Francesca said regretfully.
‘There’ll be other places. The property market is so buoyant at the moment and perhaps Mark will be singing a different tune in time.’ Aidan placed his coffee mug on the kitchen table and stood up to go.
‘I won’t be holding my breath,’ Francesca said, following him into the hall. ‘Thanks for coming over. I hope it won’t make you late for work.’
‘Naw, I’m fine. The traffic’s not too bad now with the kids off school for the summer.’
‘Tell Millie thanks and I’ll be in touch. I’m off to Cork with Ken tomorrow, we’re doing publicity for an arts festival.’
‘Have fun,’ Aidan said.
‘I enjoy it very much. I’m delighted I got that job.’ Francesca’s eyes sparkled. ‘It’s a whole change of lifestyle for me.’
‘Good. Liking your work is the important thing. It’s a pain in the butt otherwise.’ Aidan raised a hand in salute and as she closed the door behind him, Francesca reflected that her sister had married a very stalwart man. A quality she had once thought Mark possessed.
Maybe he still did possess it but it wasn’t there for
her
any more. Nikki was the recipient of all her husband’s redeeming attributes now, she thought sadly, and felt an urge to cry.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she muttered in exasperation as her heart stung and tears ran down her cheeks yet again. When did the pain and grief of it go? When did the jealousy and bitterness lessen? Why had God picked on her? She sat at the bottom of the stairs and cried her eyes out.
‘It’s like this, Mark, and I speak as a friend as well as your solicitor, my advice to you would be to have your divorce and settlement as amicable as you can both make it. In the long run you’ll spend far less money and the wounds won’t take as long to heal. You can dig your heels in and I can fight tooth and nail over every penny, but I warn you, Mark, when things get dirty you could end up losing a lot more than you would if things were amicable. Hell hath no fury and all of that. I’ve seen some bitterly fought divorce cases and the husband has ended up ruined. Finances can be gone over with a fine-tooth comb. In some cases this has resulted in … er … embarrassing discoveries, shall we say,’ Simon said smoothly.
‘It’s all right, Simon, I know what you’re getting at,’ Mark said wearily. ‘In other words, you think I should agree to the divorce and sell up.’
‘Unfortunately, under the circumstances, it’s the option that is most suited to your situation. You can fight, as I say, but at the end of the day, Francesca will be seen as the injured party because of your infidelity and perceived intransigence. The house is in joint
names
and you did say that she said she would settle for half the proceeds and not come after savings and investments. She could look for a lot more if you make things difficult for her.’ Simon sat back in his chair and lit his pipe. ‘I’m sorry, old man, but there it is. Better to lay the cards on the table straight away and not lead you up the garden path with false hope.’
‘Thanks, Simon, I appreciate your honesty. I suppose I knew all this myself. I just had to hear it said,’ Mark said heavily.
‘You’ll still make a tidy profit on the sale,’ Simon said heartily. ‘It’s not the financial disaster it could be.’