Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? (31 page)

I should almost have it tattooed behind my eyeballs by now, I should have seen this coming a mile off. The funny thing about Jack, you see, is that he’s always eager for any little titbits of autobiography about my private life that drop, particularly in relation to Dan.

A bit too bloody interested, in fact.

‘So tell me all about your big brother, then,’ Jack says, looking intently at Jules with unflinching, cloud-blue eyes. ‘And I won’t settle for any less than the full story.’

And now, suddenly, I’m uncomfortable.

‘No, no, don’t bother,’ I say, flinging Jack a loaded glare that I hope reads,
there are perfectly valid reasons why you and I never discuss our private lives with each other…can’t we just leave it that way and talk about something…anything…else?

‘Annie, what is up with you?’ says Jules, all innocence. ‘You look like a bulldog that just swallowed a wasp.’

Right. So much for me and my meaningful glares.

‘OK, then,’ says Jack smoothly, unleashing the full brilliance of his teeth on Jules and almost blinding her in the process. ‘In that case, just give me three facts about him that I don’t already know. Then I promise to be a good little boy and to drop the subject.’

Jules exhales deeply, puffing out her cheeks as she racks her brains.

‘OK, well you asked for it so here goes. For starters, he’d never in a million years go around dressed in a suit like yours,’ she says, as usual, opening her mouth without stopping to think first. ‘Says wearing suits only makes him look like a funeral director.’

Shut up, shut up, just please for the love of God, shut up now…

‘I see,’ says Jack with a sardonic smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. ‘Do go on, this is fascinating.’

‘Oh and he’s ridiculously generous too; he really would give you the shirt off his back. Wouldn’t he, Annie? In fact back home, he’s considered to be a bit of a one-man welfare state.’

‘Anyone else ready to order?’ I ask the table at large, desperate for a subject change.

‘But then, he’s total crap at remembering things like…anniversaries for instance, isn’t he, Annie?’

Enough already!

‘You know, I think I might go for the chicken dish for two. Will you share with me, Jules?’

‘Yeah…and he’s a total workaholic too. Dan’s the type who’d get out of bed at three in the morning to drive thirty miles to sort out a budgie with diarrhoea. Am I right, Annie?’

Thank God the waiter appears just then, and like all waiters in this town, he doesn’t just tell you the day’s specials as much as recite a five-minute monologue about how his name is Laurent, how he’ll be serving us this evening and how the sea bass is miles better than the duck confit tonight.

I, for one though, am grateful for the diversion and breathe a huge sigh of relief.

As the night wears on and the champagne is flowing, a bit of an impromptu sing-song starts at the table, led by Blythe in her trilling, wobbly soprano. Now I love the woman dearly, but her singing voice will never cost Barbra Streisand a night’s sleep; put it this way, it’s like the note hears her voice coming, then shies away from it. People are
starting to drift off to different seats around the table or else scarper off to the loo, at least till she’s finished murdering ‘Queen Bee’. Perfect excuse for anyone to slip outside for a cigarette…even, I notice several non-smokers.

Now for someone like Jack, half an hour without dashing out for a fag is an anomaly, yet every time he comes back inside, no matter how much table hopping has gone on in the interim, he still manages to find his way to my side. I’m not imagining it and what’s more, I think by the time dinner is served and cleared, other people are starting to notice too. Chris, for one, keeps throwing loaded ‘we are women of the world, so just have your fling and be done with it’ type glances at me and frankly, it’s starting to get on my nerves.

About the fifth time this has happened, when Jules is deep in conversation at the other end of the table, Jack turns to me, swirling brandy round the bottom of a balloon glass and says, ‘So that’s your sister-in-law, then.’

‘Yes. And I’m mad about her. She’s like a little sister to me too.’

‘Ah, the unalloyed joy of a whimsical teen. I love it. Also, I find it a fascinating study in human behaviour to watch your reactions whenever your husband’s name is mentioned. Or to be more specific, when his name is mentioned in front of me. Care to comment on this intriguing paradox, Ms Cole?’

‘You know, it’s really late,’ I smile in what I hope is an enigmatic and not a serial-killer-ish way, then I pick up my purse and start getting organised to leave. ‘And Jules is still jet lagged…I really think I should get her home to bed now, don’t you?’

‘Go if you must, my dear,’ he grins confidently, ‘but don’t for a moment make the mistake of thinking that this conversation is closed.’

For Jules’s part, she can’t stop raving about how smooth and charming and lounge-lizard-y Jack is, the whole way home in the back of our taxi. God love the innocence of the girl; she spent the whole ride back berating herself for blushing furiously whenever he as much as looked at her, but then as she says in her defence, she’s just completely and utterly unused to attractive men.

I don’t argue with her there; in Stickens, the most eligible bachelor in town is thirty-seven-year-old Liam Quigley, who lives with his mammy, drives a vegetable van, has about three teeth in his head and perpetually smells of cabbage.

‘So how come you never told me that your director isn’t just hot, he’s stupid hot?’ she yawns at me, the jet lag hitting her now like a tonne of lead. ‘If you’d warned me, I’d at least have had a shower before I went out tonight.’

We arrive home, and just as I’m yawning and making up the sofa bed in the living room for Jules, my phone beep beeps as a text comes through. I fish round the bottom of my bag for the mobile, and read it.

It’s Dan. One simple sentence.

MEET ME AT THE MOON.

I beam, suddenly all energised again as butterflies start to dance in my stomach. This has been happening pretty regularly these past few nights, meeting Dan at the moon. Fast turning into the brightest part of my evenings, in fact. Ten minutes later, when I’ve put an exhausted and wall-falling Jules to bed, I slip into the privacy of my own room and call him.

He answers instantly.

‘So, how did you like your little surprise, then?’ he asks, and I get an instant mental picture of him smiling crookedly at me down the phone.

‘Best surprise ever,’ I laugh, ‘and I’m determined to give her the time of her life while she’s here. The shops, the shows, the touristy stuff…the works.’

‘That’s my girl. I knew you’d take good care of her. By the way, you won’t believe my news bulletin tonight,’ he says and I swear, his voice is like balm to my ears.

‘Sounds exciting, tell me all.’

‘I’ve only been asked to make a keynote speech at the annual vets’ conference in Dublin this December, you know, the one on equestrian practices.’

‘Hey, that’s wonderful, congratulations!’ I say, knowing that this is a massively big deal for him.

‘Downside is I have to make a speech, and you know how much I hate any kind of public speaking.’

‘Oh come on, it’ll be a walk in the park. Nothing to stress about. Call me when you have it written and I’ll go through it with you if you like.’

‘Would you?’

‘You know I would.’

‘Angel.’

In turn, I tell him all about the Tony nominations and Liz’s complete and utter indifference to the whole thing, to the whole cast, to everything.

‘Dan, it’s a disaster; she just turns up for work, does the gig, then scarpers off as far as humanly possible from the rest of us, till the following night. Things are almost at break point and I just don’t know how much longer we can all continue going on in this faux-polite vein.’

‘That bad, huh?’

‘I’m not kidding, it’s written all over the girl’s face that she’d infinitely prefer to be looking at the rest of us from the far end of an Uzi shotgun. She doesn’t talk to me any more. Doesn’t even trust me.’

Dan listens attentively and advises his usual creed of kindness and patience at all times. Vintage Dan of course, I think, smiling to myself. Tolerance and understanding will eventually win the day in his book, whatever the problem.

‘In time she may snap out of all this moodiness,’ he says gently, ‘may even revert back to her old self, but in the meantime, just give her space and let her know that you’re there for her. But if she ever breaks out again, remember, it’s your duty to make sure she gets help.’

‘I’ve tried, believe me, but when I even suggested we go and see a doctor together, she practically flung me out of her apartment.’

‘Next time, don’t take no for an answer. If there is a next time.’

And then onto the next ulcer-inducing worry that’s been nagging away at the back of my mind since this afternoon. Lisa and her marriage break-up. It’s exactly as I suspected; yes, Dan tells me, she’s up at The Moorings most of the time now, with the kids more often than not.

Fuck, fuck and fuck again.

‘She’s going through a really rough time at the moment,’ he says softly, ‘and I’m her oldest friend and neighbour, so I’ve told her to consider this her home for as long as she needs. She’s in a bad way, Annie, money-wise as well. She’s got two kids on their summer holidays and not a bean to spend on either of them, the poor things. Your heart would go out to them. I’ve been taking the little fella Harry out
with me on a few farm calls to give Lisa a bit of a break and he seems to enjoy it, which at least is something. He’s a great little guy; we’ve grown to be good buddies. Now says he wants to be a vet when he grows up.’

‘Wonderful. That’s wonderful,’ I chime automatically while thinking to myself…I was right. Her kids
will
end up calling Dan ‘New Dad’.

Christ Alive, what am I going to do?

‘Plus,’ he chats on, ‘at least when she’s up here at The Moorings, Lisa’s not running up household bills, which takes the pressure off her a bit. You know, the poor girl’s been through the mill, Annie. She says that the maintenance payments she gets from Charlie are barely enough to cover her weekly grocery bills.’

But she’s been bitching and moaning about never having enough for her grocery bills for years,
I think, silently furious.

None of this is anything new, not a shagging line of it. Lisa is just playing Dan like she’s always done and of course he can’t see it because Dan is one of those rare people who only ever sees the good in others.

Weird, but over time my memories of home have gradually eroded and softened and yet one jagged bit still sticks out. The Countess fecking Dracula and how she’s not happy till she’s living in one of your ears and has the other one rented out in flats. And now here’s Dan, all alone, all by himself at The Moorings…and Lisa’s always had more than an eye in his direction, I’ve suspected that for I don’t know how long…

Suddenly the burning feeling in my gut is like a furnace. Knowing the Countess Dracula, and unfortunately I do, this will escalate. In fact, she won’t be satisfied till she’s sold her own house and physically moved lock, stock and barrel
into The Moorings…and who knows what else she’s plotting besides? Now that she’s newly separated from her husband?

Worry kicks my mind into overdrive. If I were home, this would never have happened, I think ruefully. But what the hell am I supposed to do from this side of the Atlantic? When we’re supposed to be on a marriage sabbatical?

Bite my tongue, say and do nothing, absolutely nothing.

There’s a pause while I try to gather my thoughts and then Dan, forthright and straight to the point as ever asks me how I’m enjoying my ‘gap year’?

‘You know how you always used to say that you felt you missed out on your clubbing, pubbing, partying years on account of me sweeping you off your feet so young?’ he smiles, as a totally disconnected thought suddenly strikes me. How funny it is that you can hear a smile over the phone, even when you’re thousands of miles apart.

‘Well I only hope you’re reliving and reclaiming every one of those years now and having the time of your life while you’re at it. You deserve it, Annie, having spent so long stuck here with me, in Stickens.’

No point in the polite lie here. It’s not that kind of conversation.

‘Dan, it wasn’t being in Stickens that bothered me, it was never seeing you from one end of the week to the other that I found rough going.’

‘And you think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t been beating myself up about that?’

There’s a long silence.

‘Because I have, more and more lately; a lot more than you could ever imagine. It’s lonely here without you. I never thought I could be lonely here but I am and I’m
not liking it. Not one bit. I’m not cut out to live my life alone.’

But you’re not on your own now, are you? At least not with Lisa fecking Ledbetter hanging around the house day and bleeding night…

I say nothing though, just deliberate for a second. But he’s quick to pick up on my silence.

‘Annie? You still there?’

‘Ehh, yeah…I was going to say…
oh sod it anyway, might as well get this lead weight off my chest…
well…you’ve got Lisa in the house now, don’t you? For company, I mean.’

‘Not the same as having you here,’ he says simply. ‘Not the same thing at all. Don’t get me wrong, Lisa’s a good friend but she’s hardly you.’

Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you for saying that, even if you’re just being polite…thank you God, Hari Krishna, Buddha, Santa…anyone who’s listening…

I allow myself a small smile now as a wave of relief floods through me.

‘Such a sweet thing to say…’

‘Only the truth.’

‘But…there’s something else…something that’s been on my mind…’

‘I’m here, I’m listening.’

Go for it. God knows when I’ll get an opportunity like this again…

Takes me a moment to cast around for the right words.

‘Thing is, Dan…you say you’re lonely, but…when I was around, we hardly ever spoke to each other, I mean…surely you remember all the Post-it notes stuck
to the fridge door? I sometimes felt I was having more of a relationship with a Samsung fridge freezer than with you.’