‘Lainey, shush.’ Eva interrupted, laughing too. She’d changed the subject then.
Eva thought about it now. Lainey was right. They had been sort of dates. But not like any she’d ever had before. There’d been no awkward silences, for a start. She and Joe had found plenty of things to talk about. She kept finding more and more things about him that she liked. His hands. The way his black hair stood up in tufts now and then when he ran his fingers through it. His body. She liked the things he noticed. The remarks he made. The way he made her laugh. The way he kissed her.
She felt relaxed with him. Completely herself. Except for one small problem. She wasn’t herself when she was with Joe. She was Niamh Kennedy, the sculptor.
She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She didn’t look like a woman harbouring a secret, did she? Like someone living a lie? No, she didn’t look like one. But she was one.
She wanted to tell him. She’d rehearsed it all in
her head. But the right opportunity had never presented itself. She couldn’t tell him just before they went into the cinema, there hadn’t been time. And they’d been laughing so much when they’d crept out that that wasn’t the right time either. And in the bar there had been too much else to talk about. The last thing she’d wanted to do was change the mood, ruin both their evenings.
The worst of it was she didn’t have any excuse not to tell him the truth, not any more. She’d finished working at Four Quarters now. She didn’t have to worry about Greg finding out from someone other than Lainey. There was nothing standing in the way of telling Joe the truth. Except one small obstacle. The possibility of Joe deciding the real Eva wasn’t half as interesting as the fake Niamh.
It was Niamh’s life that intrigued him, she already knew that. Her stories about her lifestyle in Galway. Her sculptures. Her inspiration. He had wanted to hear all about it last night. They had talked about lots of other non-Niamh things, though, she consoled herself. But it had all been within the pretend framework of Niamh’s life. It couldn’t go on like this. She knew that.
As she pulled up in front of the vet’s surgery, she made her decision. Again. The next time she saw him she’d tell him the truth.
Joseph sat in a cafe on Acland Street thinking about Niamh. A conversation he’d had with her the previous night kept replaying in his head. It had started when he’d come back to their table in the wine bar with two more glasses. She’d looked up and given him that beautiful smile. ‘I really admire you, Joe, do you know that?’
He’d nearly spilt the wine. ‘Admire me? What for?’
‘Your courage, I suppose. Your adventurous spirit. The way you’ve just packed up and come over here, all on your own. Just travelling around, taking things as they come.’
He’d started to protest but she’d interrupted. ‘No, I really mean it. I know lots of people do it, young ones especially, but when you’re as old as we are, in our thirties -‘ She’d smiled at him. ‘Things are harder, don’t you think? You can’t be as impulsive. But you have been. I think it’s great.’
He’d felt like walking out of the door in shame. Impulsive? Taking things as they come? Him? She couldn’t be more wrong. It had been planned for months. Rosemary had looked after all his travel bookings. This trip was about as impulsive as a military campaign.
He should have told Niamh the truth there and then. Confessed everything. But he hadn’t.
Because it had felt too good to see her on the other side of the table, smiling at him, telling him
how much she liked something about him. It had felt uncomplicated. Good. Right. It was just a shame she had it all wrong. He wasn’t a carefree, impulsive, adventurous backpacker. He wasn’t what she thought he was. He hadn’t set out to mislead her in any way. It had just happened. Then, as time had passed, it had seemed too awkward to backtrack, to fill in the details. Actually, Niamh, I’m not a backpacker, I’m a business traveller staying in luxury hotels. I don’t work for a company, I own a company. I’m not running out of money, I’m rolling in the stuff. But he’d let it go on. Too long. As he took a final sip of coffee, he made a decision. He’d call her, ask her to have dinner with him. And then he’d tell her the truth.
The carpenter packed away the measuring tape and stood up. ‘Well, that’s the lot. I’ll make up the cupboards at home in Wangaratta and we’ll get them fitted in a month or so.’
Standing at the doorway to Lainey’s bedroom, Greg nodded. ‘Thanks. Lainey will be very pleased.’
From the front door he called out as the carpenter went down the stairs. ‘And don’t forget that place I told you about. Four Quarters in St Kilda, yeah? Bring all your mates, you’ll love it.’
‘Righto, mate.’
Shutting the door, Greg came back into the apartment. It had taken less time than he’d expected. He checked his mobile. No calls missed. His next appointment wasn’t until nine that night. He’d make another coffee, have a break. Maybe even have a nap. He’d been having a lot of late nights lately.
As the kettle boiled, he went for a roam around
the flat. He’d been here several times before, for Lainey’s dinner parties and to collect Niamh that night, of course, though she hadn’t let him in for some reason. Nice apartment, he thought. Great location too.
He’d already been in Lainey’s bedroom with the carpenter. He wandered down the corridor toward the second bedroom. This must be Niamh’s, he thought. He opened the door and had a quick look round - it was very tidy. Good. He liked a tidy woman. He’d half expected sketch books and uncompleted sculptures to be lying around. Maybe even some early versions of the work she’d been researching at Four Quarters. He planned to invite her out for dinner again, ask her all about it. If she could spare him a night, he sniffed, instead of spending all this time hanging around with that backpacker. God knows why, he thought. Maybe she was getting some research material from him as well.
She must have some of her work here, Greg thought. Didn’t artists spend their whole time sketching and coming up with ideas? Maybe she kept it locked away. He was about to open one of the wardrobes when he heard the phone ring. It was probably Lainey. The answering machine was just clicking into action as he came into the living room. Lainey’s recorded voice broadcast into the room, brisk and businesslike.
‘Hi, thanks for ringing. We can’t talk right now, please leave your message after the tone.’
There was a click, then the caller started leaving a message. ‘Hi, Niamh. This is Joe.’
What was he doing ringing here? Just how friendly was he with Niamh? Greg kept listening.
‘I saw an Italian restaurant in Prahran today, I thought you might really like it. We could go there tonight perhaps? Around eight? I’ll ring back again and see what ‘
Greg snatched up the phone. ‘Hello.’
‘Hello? Who’s that?’
‘Greg Gilroy.’ Greg spoke in his deepest voice.
‘Oh, hello Greg. Could I speak to Niamh please?’
‘She’s busy.’
‘Busy?’
Greg thought quickly. ‘Sleeping.’
‘At six-thirty?’
Greg pitched his voice low. ‘Come on, mate, you know how it is.’ He laughed in a bloke-talking-to bloke way. ‘She’s worn out. In bed. We had a bit of a, what would you call it, a marathon session.’ That laugh again.
‘You what?’
Greg smiled into the phone. Good. Joe was sounding suitably shocked. He kept his voice low as though he was afraid of being overheard. ‘Actually, mate, I owe you a favour. Niamh and I had been going through a bit of a rough patch. Then she
started flirting with you to make me jealous, and I don’t need to tell you, it certainly worked. Pulled me into line, that’s for sure.’
‘You and Niamh? Since when?’
Greg spoke very confidently. ‘Oh, a while. I guess you could call me her patron. Of sorts.’ That suggestive laugh again. ‘You know these creative types. Head in the clouds most of the time. She needs someone like me around her. Someone who understands the business world, who can advise her.’ The inference was clear. Not someone like you.
‘You’re her business adviser? Haven’t you just met her?’
Greg gave a contemptuous laugh. This scruffball could back right off - he’d seen Niamh first. ‘Is that what she told you? That she just met me? She’s extraordinary. We met last year, when I was in Ireland. That’s why she’s out here. So do you want me to give her a message? When she wakes up?’
There was a long pause.
‘Tell her I rang to say goodbye.’
‘You’re going somewhere?’ Greg asked, pleased.
‘To South Australia. On the train tonight.’
Greg put on his best boss voice. ‘Tonight? You seem to have forgotten something, mate.’
‘What?’
‘You’re rostered on to work tomorrow morning.’
‘Am I? Then you saved me the phone call. I resign. Goodbye.’
Greg smiled. Too bad. Backpackers were a dime a dozen. And then he remembered something else. He hadn’t paid Joe yet. Even better.
It was past eight o’clock as Eva parked Lainey’s car in the underground carpark and came up the stairs to the flat carrying a dozing Rex in his basket. The operation itself had been straightforward enough. It was the waiting around afterwards that had been traumatic. For her, not Rex - all those poor cats in baskets everywhere she looked.
She walked into the apartment, turning on the living-room lights as she came in. To her astonishment Greg was stretched out on Lainey’s sofa, fast asleep. Putting down the basket, she dropped the car keys with a clatter onto the table. The noise woke Greg immediately. He opened his eyes and stretched. He didn’t seem at all uncomfortable to have been caught making himself so at home.
‘Sorry to wake you, Greg,’ she said sweetly. ‘I thought you’d have left by now. Hasn’t the carpenter been yet?’
‘Oh yes.’ Greg stretched again. ‘That was all fine. I kept a close eye on him.’
‘Oh good, thanks.’ Then why are you still here? Her question was unspoken.
He seemed to guess what she was thinking. ‘I just thought I’d wait until you got back. To see how Rex
was, in case he had to be lifted out of the basket. I know you don’t like touching him.’
That was thoughtful of him. ‘Thanks very much. But the vet said I should just leave him in the basket. He can get out himself when he feels better.’
‘And how did the operation go?’
Greg was behaving very oddly. Like he had a secret. Oh no. Had he been through her room while she was away? She’d tidied up in a big hurry, making sure nothing too incriminating was lying around. But he wouldn’t have gone through her cupboards, would he? Would he?
‘Uh, the operation - it went fine, I think. As far as these things go. I mean, it can’t be pleasant having your …’
‘No, I suppose not. You had a phone call, by the way.’
Joe, Eva thought. ‘And you answered it?’
‘Just by instinct, sorry. I was standing right by the phone.’
‘Who was it?’
‘Oh, just that English guy, Joe. The kitchenhand. He was ringing to say goodbye to you.’
‘Goodbye?’
‘Yes, he said something about going to South Australia tonight. On the train. Leaving me in the lurch at the cafe, thank you very much. Just as well I haven’t paid him yet.’
Eva didn’t want to hear about Four Quarters. She
wanted to hear about Joe. ‘Sorry Greg, can you just say that all again? Joe said he’s catching a train tonight?’
‘That’s right.’
Eva couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Did he say anything else?’
‘No.’ Greg looked at her innocently.
Eva was astonished. And very hurt. She sat down, speechless.
Greg smiled at her. ‘So I guess you’re at a loose end tonight? Perhaps I could take you out to dinner somewhere nice again?’
Eva didn’t want to go out to somewhere nice with Greg. She wanted to be somewhere ordinary - somewhere anywhere - with Joe. She tried to smile, trying to be polite. Greg was Lainey’s friend, after all. ‘No, but thanks anyway, Greg. I actually don’t feel very well. I might just have an early night tonight, I think.’
‘Tomorrow night then?’
‘Perhaps.’ Eva wished he’d leave. She stood up as if to guide him toward the door. ‘I’ll call you, will I? If I’m feeling better?’
‘Any time, Niamh, any time.’ He turned and went down the stairs, two at a time. Good, he thought as he climbed into his car. A job well done, Greggie boy. He wasn’t a successful businessman for nothing.
Inside the apartment, Eva sat down on the sofa again. Joe was going to South Australia? Just like that, without saying goodbye to her in person?
I mean, of course he can, she told herself. We’ve only just met. He doesn’t have to check with me before he does anything. But to just leave like that? Was it something she’d said to him? Something last night? The night before? The day before that? She rewound it all, running through it quickly in her head. No, they’d had great times. And it was he who had suggested they go out again tonight. He’d even said he’d choose somewhere and would call and let her know where.
Maybe Greg had been mistaken, she thought hopefully. Maybe that hadn’t been Joe on the phone at all. Maybe it had been another friend of Lainey’s. Eva went over to the answering machine again. Maybe miraculously she had imagined everything Greg had said and there would be a lovely message from Joe waiting for her, inviting her out.
The light wasn’t flashing, but she couldn’t help herself. She pressed the play button. Her heart leapt as Joe’s voice came out of the machine. ‘Hi, Niamh. This is Joe. I saw an Italian restaurant in Prahran today, I thought you might really like it. We could go there tonight perhaps? Around eight? I’ll ring back again and see what ‘
The message stopped there. The phone had obviously been picked up by someone.
The phone had obviously been picked up by Greg. So Greg had spoken to Joe. And told him what? Something that had made Joe decide to go to Adelaide tonight.
Eva switched off the machine, instantly raging at Greg. Who did he think he was, sticking his nose into her business? God only knows what he’d said to Joe. She had a mind to ring him there and then, have it out with him, find out what sneaky lies he had A voice piped up in the back of her mind. Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? You telling Greg off for being deceitful? You’ve hardly been Miss Honest, Straight and True yourself, you know.