She felt fifteen again. She’d sat on this bench when she was fifteen. Well maybe not exactly the same bench but one just like it. Fifteen had been a horrible age when she’d hated her mother, resented her father and thought her brother was the biggest bollix in the entire universe.
They’d stayed in a caravan just up the road. It had rained for the week. Everybody had been so pissed off with the weather and Anna had resigned herself to the glum fact that she’d never ever get herself a boyfriend no matter how hard she tried looking for one.
Claire had gone to Florida that year and Victoria had been sent as a paying guest to a family in the south of France.
They’d all been tanned and gorgeous back in school on the first of September. And Anna had been her usual white and unattractive self.
Thank God she’d never be fifteen again.
She wondered if he’d rung yet. Probably not. It was too soon. Maybe he wasn’t going to ring at all. Maybe he was a serial dater. And had even met someone else since yesterday. Men were fast movers. At this very minute he could well be giving somebody else the eye. There coul
d be another hopeful girl sit
ting right now i
n that fabulous
penthouse imagining
a bright future as Darren’s other
half.
Maybe this new girl would go all the way with him and he’d forget the frigid Bridget who’d fled the previous evening like
a frightened rabbit. Another
one bites the dust, Anna thought mournfully as she kicked the ground with the heel of her boot. Feck him anyway. Feck him and every other man she’d had the misfortune to come in contact with.
Feck them all!
‘He rang,’ Aoife was almost hyperventilating back in the apartment.
‘Did he?’ Anna could hardly conceal her joy.
‘What did he say?’
‘He said to ring straight back.’
‘Did he sound disappointed I wasn’t in?’
‘Not really,’ her flatmate admitted.
‘Oh . . . maybe then he was just ringing out of politeness.’
‘Rubbish. Men never ring just to be polite.’
Anna thought about it. Aoife was right. Men only rang when they wanted something. Well that was good then. It meant that Darren wanted her. He wanted HER!
‘So are you going to ring back?’ Aoife asked.
‘No.’
‘What do you mean, no? Have you lost the plot or what?’
‘No,’ Anna repeated.
‘He’s waiting for your call though.’
‘Let him wait. It’s his turn.’
‘But he mightn’t ring back.’
‘He will,’ Anna said confidently. ‘Men mightn’t ring initially. But when they do ring and you’re not in, they always ring back.’
‘I wish I was more like you,’ Aoife’s voice was full of admiration. ‘You’re so strong.’
‘Believe me, I’m not that strong,’ Anna said quietly. It was a vicious circle. She was dying to ring him. But if she did he might think she was too keen.
Desperate
even.
She’d have to pace herself. She hoped she was right about him ringing back. She was almost one hundred per cent sure he would. Men hated to think someone else was doing the rejecting. They’d such massive egos. But how was she going to stop herself from lifting that phone and dialling his number? Somebody would have to sellotape her hands behind her back.
She’d ring Claire, that’s what she’d do. Claire would be able to give her tons of advice. She picked up the phone.
‘Are you ringing him after all?’ Aoife enquired.
‘Absolutely not,’ Anna shook her head.
Simon answered the phone. He sounded different. His voice was strained.
‘She’s not here, I’m afraid,’ he answered.
‘When will she be back?’
‘God only knows, Anna. God only knows.’
Claire sat nervously outside Tom’s apartment in Dalkey. She had no idea what she was planning on doing. But one thing was sure. She’d had enough. Enough of the painful bouts of silence that had become the norm in that place herself and Simon called ‘home’.
Her husband didn’t love her any more. Well, if he did, he had a very funny way of showing it. Maybe he loved Shelley. Or maybe he was too wrapped up in himself to love anybody. Relationships were hard work. Everybody knew that. But Claire didn’t know if she could be bothered handling any more work. There was only so much giving one person could do. She switched off the
engine and checked her appear
ance in the side mirror. Her reflection didn’t look bad for someone who was crying inside. She stepped out of the car and locked it. Mechanically she walked towards the entrance of the apartment block.
‘Come on up,’ Tom sounded genuinely delighted to hear her voice.
Wearing faded denims and a dark grey sweatshirt,
Tom certainly didn’t look like he’d any plans to go out. Spontaneously he kissed Claire’s flushed cheeks and ushered her into the warm apartment.
‘Are you okay?’ He looked at her with concern. Claire opened her mouth to say something but
instead, to her horror, she felt her face crumble and a hot tear slid down the side of her cheek.
Mortified, she brushed it away with the side of her hand. But then another one fell. And another one.
‘Sit down,’ Tom ordered gently. ‘Surely it can’t be as bad as all that.’
‘It’s worse,’ Claire sniffed. God, she was pathetic. Here she was blabbing on to a virtual stranger about the ‘trauma’ concerning her dull life as an urban housewife,
when he had lost his fiancé
e in a horrific accident. Who exactly should be the one crying here?
‘Simon’s having an affair,’ she blurted.
‘How do you know?’ Tom handed her a Kleenex. He was very calm as i
f there could be a very reason
able explanation for all of this.
‘He told me he was going out with one of the lads from work tonight.’
‘And?’
‘And I asked him if Shelley was one of the lads and he said yes.’
‘But that doesn’t mean he’s having an affair,’ Tom said quietly.
‘I know, I know. It’s just a woman’s instinct is pretty strong.’
‘So where are they going?’
‘They’re not going anywhere now,’ Claire sniffed.
‘I walked out and left him with Andrew.’
‘I don’t know what to say, Claire,’ Tom sighed.
‘It’s not really right to interfere in other people’s relationships.’
‘You’re so good though,’ Claire placed a hand on his. ‘One day you’ll make some girl extremely happy.’
She noticed he winced at her words. Oh God, what had she just gone and said now? She was an idiot. A total dingbat.
‘I’m sorry, I––’ she stopped mid-sentence as he drew her close to him and let her head rest on his chest.
‘Ssh,’ he soothed, ‘t
here’s no need to say any
thing.’
He stroked her hair as she clung to him. Why couldn’t Simon be more like Tom? Why did terrible things happen to nice people like him? It wasn’t fair. She snuggled in closer. Tom’s body was lovely and warm. She hadn’t been cuddled by a man in so long.
‘Tom?’ She looked up at him, aware of how close her face was to his.
He tilted her chin with his forefinger and looked deep into her eyes.
‘Claire,’ he murmured. And slowly but surely their lips met and they
kissed softly, sweetly, cau
tiously.
She pressed herself against him and let him slip his tongue through her slightly parted lips. Their kissing gradually became more frantic, more urgent. How could this be so wrong, Claire wondered, when it felt so right. She threw any niggling reservations to the wind and ran her fingers through his hair, tasting his soft strong lips, hungry for him. His hands began to gently explore her body. She closed her eyes and concentrated on his every move. She hadn’t felt such desire since the birth of her baby. Her baby! Oh God! Andrew was at home with his grumpy father while his mother – the woman he depended on for everything – was behaving like an oversexed slut with a strange man.
‘This is all wrong, Claire,’ Tom spoke first.
‘I know,’ she withdrew from him, ‘you’re right. My life’s too messed up to contemplate starting an affair.’
She sat up straight on the sofa and rearranged her clothes. Tom was smiling at her. She smiled back. She felt free. For the first time in a long time, Claire no longer felt trapped.
‘Thank you,’ her voice was genuine.
‘For what?’
‘For making me feel like a normal human being again.’
‘You don’t hate me then?’
‘Of course not, I quite fancy you actually . . .’
‘Ditto,’ he said dreamily.
‘I’d still like to be your friend,’ she said, ‘and
I mean that genuinely. Since Anna has moved to
Galway I’ve been feeling a bit low.’
‘Well, I know what you mean. A lot of my friends were frien
ds of both of ours – my fiancé
e and myself. They feel kind of awkward around me now. I kind of understand where they’re coming from . . . I might feel awkward too in the same situation.’
‘Do you think you’ll ever fall in love again?’
‘You never know,’ he gave a distant smile. ‘Recently
I find all the good ones are married.’ They both laughed.
‘Don’t rush into marriage,’ she warned. ‘It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.’
‘Simon doesn’t sound like such a bad guy.’ Tom handed her her coat. ‘You two will work this out.’
‘Hopefully,’ Claire grimaced.
‘Will you be okay?’ he hugged her.
‘Yep,’ she tried to smile optimistically. ‘I’ll be in touch. You’ll have to come out with me and my friend Anna – she’s mad.’
‘Well, I’ll look forward to a wild night out with the pair of ye so. Take care, Claire, and remember I’m always at the other end of the phone.’
‘Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?’ Simon’s face was thunderous.
‘I was out.’
‘Well, that was
obvious
. Out where?’
‘With a friend.’
‘Who?’
‘A guy called Tom,’ Claire said wearily.
‘Tom?’ Simon’s eyes narrowed.
‘He’s a friend of Emma’s.’
‘And it was just the two of you, was it?’
‘That’s right,’ Claire snapped.
‘You’re unbelievable, do you know that, Claire?’ Simon went to put on his coat.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Out.’
‘If you go out, don’t bother coming back,’ Claire threatened.
‘Why? What are you planning on doing? Changing the locks?’
‘Well, I hadn’t thought about it but maybe I will.’
‘Tell me now if you are. Because if you are, I’ll need to stay with a friend.’
‘You could stay with Shelley.’ Claire’s voice was beginning to shake.
‘Indeed I could.’
‘GET OUT,’ she screamed.
‘What is the matter with you?’
‘I said get out!’
The door slammed. Quickly she bolted the locks. She didn’t care if he never came home.
She rang Anna.
‘Oh hi,’ Anna sounded exhausted.
‘You don’t sound too pleased to hear from me,’ Claire said irritably.
‘Sorry . . . it’s just that I was expecting somebody else.’
‘A man?’
‘Yes.’
‘Emmet? Jake? Steve? Rich?’
‘No’
‘Mark?’
‘No, a guy called Darren.’
‘Do you not think you’re getting a bit old for this kind of carry on?’ Claire asked rather uncharitably.
‘I’m sorry, Claire,’ her friend retorted, ‘that I’m not as happily married as you.’
‘Don’t mind me, Anna, I know I’m being irritable. I’ve a lot on my mind that’s all.’
‘Is it Andrew? Is he sick?’
‘No, it’s Simon and he is sick. Sick in the head.’
‘No he’s not,’ Anna laughed.
‘He is. He’s having an affair. With Shelley. And
I’m leaving him, Anna. I’ve had enough.’
‘Leaving Simon? Are you mad? Simon’s so good for you. And he’s your husband, remember? Most women would kill to get their hands on someone like him.’
‘Exactly,’ Claire said grimly. ‘Women like Shelley.’