Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? (37 page)

‘Dan…’

A half pause and I know, just know that he senses something’s up.

‘What is it, love? If something’s wrong, then please tell me.’

Please, please stop being so nice to me. I feel bad enough as it is…

‘Nothing. Nothing at all. Just that it’s late, it’s been a long day and I’d better try and get some sleep now.’

‘Right so. Sleep well and I’ll meet you at the moon very soon.’

Hard to believe, but this is actually the last normal conversation I’m to have with him.

The next morning, Blythe, Chris, Alex and I all meet up for a desultory brunch. We’re all sitting round a booth in one of those diners that’s like nineteen fifties sensory overload. You know, waitresses in fire hazard skirts, there’s that much netting under them, waiters dressed like they’ve just stepped out of the chorus line in
Grease
and Eddie Cochran playing away on the jukebox.

None of us is in good form and no one’s even eating. Not even little Alex who normally eats like an athlete and never fails to say that she’ll turn to cannibalism if her food doesn’t arrive approximately four minutes after she orders it.

‘God, I miss home,’ Chris eventually says, banging a spoon off her coffee cup. ‘I miss Josh and Oscar so much it hurts.’

‘Oh I know just how you feel, love,’ Blythe chimes in. ‘I can’t tell you how much I miss my Sean. And money is so tight for him right now, he needs me with him back home, although he’d never say it. I know he does.’

‘I miss Dublin,’ says Alex. ‘I miss my family and all my pals and the fact that no matter where you go at home, you’ll always meet up with someone you know. It’s so anonymous and impersonal here.’

‘…I’m sick of the constant noise, the traffic, the car
horns blaring; the way that bloody twenty-four hour background racket is always there, all the time, round the clock, even if you wake up at three am….’

‘The heat is what’s driving me mental, I can’t take much more…I miss rain…’

‘I miss greenery…’

‘I miss Barry’s tea, and Tayto crisps and proper butter…’

‘…I’m fed up of having long distance conversations with Josh the whole time, I want to be with him…’

‘I miss the people from home…I’m sick of everyone’s fake bonhomie here…’

‘Oh God, if one more sales assistant tells me to have a nice day, with one of those cheesy, fake, all-American smiles…’

Suddenly, I’m aware that they’re all looking at me, because I’m the only one who hasn’t chimed in yet. And in a million years, I never thought I’d find myself saying this, but yes, I miss home too, I tell them. I miss green grass and mountains and all the beautiful scenery that I completely took for granted for so long. I miss proper, fresh country air, so different to the layers of smog and grit that pass for clean air in New York…I miss having space to myself and nights that are so quiet, if you happen to hear three cars going past, it’s like rush hour. I miss looking out the window at night and seeing tens of thousands of stars twinkling above me. Here, I have to squint up at the night sky and imagine that somewhere behind the sodium vapour and NYC glare, that there even are stars there at all.

I miss Jules. I miss the staff from the surgery at home. I even miss having neighbours who care about you and ask after you all the time.

But most of all I miss Dan.

Two days later, after I don’t know how many frantic calls from me, I finally get a message from Dr Goldman’s assistant at the Albany clinic to say that it’s now OK for me to go and see Liz. Just me, alone, apparently one visitor at a time is all she’s able for right now. It’s early morning, so I don’t even think about it, just run out of the apartment, grab a cab to Penn station and forty minutes later, am on a train to Albany, upstate New York. The journey takes about an hour and a half, all the way up through Poughkeepsie and the Catskill mountains and my mind marvels that such beautiful, deep countryside can exist so close to Manhattan. The view alone makes me, if possible, even more homesick.

The Eleanor Young clinic is on Franklin Street, easy enough to find. In fact, it’s more like a small country hotel than a hospital though; totally surrounded by stunning, beautifully maintained grounds.

The hospital itself is small-ish and a brusque receptionist tells me what room I can find Liz in.

‘But I need to see your handbag first, before I can let you in to see her,’ she snaps briskly.

‘My handbag?’

‘In case you’re smuggling any substances in. It’s been known to happen. Drug addicts often get their friends to bring in stash from the outside. It’s what drug addicts do; it’s part of their job description.’

‘Emm…sure,’ I say, handing over my bag, which she starts to rummage through.

‘And don’t stay too long, will you? We had to pump her stomach twice and she’s still feeling a little nauseous.’

‘No, don’t worry, I don’t want to tire her.’

She seems satisfied enough with the contents of my handbag to hand it back to me.

‘OK, room 201. Last room at the end of the corridor, on your right.’

When I do find Liz, I’m utterly shocked when I see her face; something that was there before is now gone. She looks empty and ravaged and it’s frightening to see.

She’s awake when I get there and when she sees that it’s me, tears start to roll down her pale, chalk-white cheeks.

‘Annie,’ she says in a weak, croaky voice. ‘Annie, I’m so sorry.’

‘No, honey, don’t be. I’m the one who’s sorry.’

‘I don’t know…I don’t know why I did what I did. There’s no reason for it and I’ve got no excuse. All I know is that you tried your best to be a good friend to me and…I was completely horrible to you. I’ve been lying here, playing it over and over in my mind, all the vicious things I flung at you when you were only trying to help. And I need you to know how sorry I am. Can you forgive me, Annie?’

She sits up slowly and we hug each other and stay like that for a long, long time.

AUTUMN

Chapter Fifteen

Fall in New York and the city is more beautiful than you could possibly imagine. Leaves everywhere, the beginnings of a nip in the air, a crisp coolness to the evenings now…but somehow I just can’t bring myself to appreciate it. Because there’s been a shift in Dan and what’s more I can put a date on when it started. It’s ever since Jules arrived back in Ireland. I don’t quite know what’s going on, it’s hard to put my finger on, but here are the facts.

These days he doesn’t call or even text me late at night to say meet him at the moon any more. All that has completely ground to a halt. And I know he’s a free man on his gap year off from me too, and I know there’s nothing wrong with this. It’s just that I miss all those long, idle, meandering late-night chats with him more than I can say.

A few times, I tried calling him at night and discovered that the Countess Dracula’s kids are now answering the phone. No doubt staying over, yet again. And what’s more, they treat me like I’m some kind of nuisance caller. ‘Mummy? It’s that woman on the phone again!’ That kind of thing.

When I’m ringing my own home. Bloody annoying, to say the very least.

Then another time Lisa herself answers and gleefully tells me that Dan has agreed to fork out for her and the kids to go to Euro Disney, as a special treat for them.

‘He’s got so fond of the kids,’ she gloats at me, ‘it’s marvellous to see! And of course, for their part, they just idolise him, particularly Harry. Calls him Uncle Dan and refuses to go to sleep till Dan’s tucked him into bed!’

Swear to God, I have to have a lie down in a darkened room after this particular stab of reality.

Then, just a few days after Jules would have got back home, Dan and I had the single weirdest conversation of all. He called and seemed tense and jumpy on the phone, most unlike him. I put it down to exhaustion, but looking back, it was something more than that. Trying to dissect what he said was of no use, because it was what he
didn’t
say that worried me.

He’d caught me at a bad time too; the very worst time, in fact. It was just six-thirty in the evening and I was racing down Forty-Fourth Street to get to the Shubert when he called. An unusual time for him to ring, and it was almost impossible for me to hear him properly over the roar of traffic and background noise.

First of all, from the bit of conversation that I could snatch, he went off on a big preamble about how this was my year of freedom and I was to enjoy every minute of it. Then he said something totally out of character for him about how loving someone sometimes means setting them free.

But most worrying of all was what he said before he hung up.

‘Annie, you know we talked about meeting up for our anniversary in New York?’

‘Yes, of course…’ I said. How would I have forgotten? I was actually starting to really look forward to it. To live for it, in fact.

‘Well, I just wanted you to know, that if your circumstances ever changed or if there was ever any reason why you wouldn’t want me to come, you know I’d understand. All you need to do is tell me. We’re adults and whatever is coming our way, we’ll somehow work it out.’

I was hassled and straining to hear him above the din of blaring car horns when we had this chat; all I know is that I hung the phone up with one thought on my mind.

Something’s up.

Took me all of four seconds to put two and two together.

Jules. Jules has gone and told him about what happened between me and Jack, before I got a chance to.

Shit, shit and shit again.

Things escalate from there, fast. Next morning, I get an urgent email from Jules, instructing me to ring her mobile at a certain time, when she’ll be able to talk freely. Jaysus, it’s like something out of a John le Carré spy thriller. I do as she says and am surprised to hear her sounding panicky and upset on the phone.

‘Annie, I have to talk to you,’ she hisses.

‘I have to talk to you too.’

‘What’s up with you? You sound stressed off your head.’

‘Did you mention anything to Dan about…well…you know, about what happened at the Hamptons that weekend?’

‘Emm…well, I might have let something slip…’

I knew it, I knew it, I knew it…oh fuck, fuck, fuck, what do I do now?

‘…but Annie, there’s something far more urgent I have
to tell you…there’s been a development in the last few days and I don’t think you’re going to like it.’

‘Tell me…’

Tell me quick.

‘Course I wasn’t sure, so I wanted to check all my facts before I spoke to you. Just to be certain.’

‘Is it your Mum?’

‘Sadly not. I
wish.
She’s still whinging because all I brought her back from New York was that Empire State snow globe, and I wouldn’t mind, but it weighed a bloody ton AND I had to carry it all the way home in my hand baggage…’

‘Please! Will you just tell me what’s up?’

I’m snapping now and I hadn’t meant to.

‘Right, but you’d better be sitting down for this. And be warned, you won’t like it, but I feel it’s my duty to tell you.’

‘Jules!’

‘It seems that while I was away, the Countess Dracula has gone and moved herself and the kids into The Moorings. Lock, stock and barrel. I wasn’t certain when I first came home, but now I know for sure. The conniving bloody-minded bitch has rented out her own house for extra cash and is living here now.’

‘Hon, it’s vitally important that you answer me this honestly; just how much of this is an exaggeration?’

‘May I be struck down this minute, not a word of it!’ she hisses defensively and somehow, somehow…I believe her.

‘The Countess Dracula, Dan and the kids are now all officially living together at The Moorings. Like one big happy fecking family. She and Dan are in separate rooms…for now…but who knows how long that’ll last
for? She sees a vulnerable, lonely, overworked man and you mark my words, she’s moving in on him. Has dinners ready for him on the table every night, no matter when he gets in, does all his laundry for him…’

For a second my throat constricts and I have to remind myself to breathe. I can’t take this in, it’s just too much. Can Lisa really have done that? Taken my place just like that? And I know, just know without being told that her plans include more, far more than staying at The Moorings to save money…what if for once, Jules isn’t over-egging it? What if the Countess Dracula has her eye on the bigger prize? On Dan himself?

This is it, then. My very worst fears confirmed. What I’ve dreaded for so long has finally happened and here I am, an ocean away and powerless to do anything…

Jules talks on, but I have to tell her that I’ll call her back, mainly because my brain has gone into meltdown and I need time to think, to walk, to get my head together, to breathe into a paper bag if needs be.

So I get out of the apartment and start pounding the pavement, praying to God that I won’t bump into any of the others and am forced to start acting like there’s nothing up with me.

It’s a crystal clear fall day, but there’s a nip in the air and I came out without a jacket, so after a good half-hour of pacing and thinking, I slip into the warmth of a Starbucks on West Fifty-Third street, grab a tea and a chair with trembling hands and sit in a quiet, dark corner to think.

I trust Dan, of course I do. With my life.

I don’t believe for a second that there’s an unfaithful bone in his body.

It’s Lisa fecking Ledbetter that I don’t trust an inch. She’s
always had a thing for Dan, I’ve always known that and now most likely the whole fecking town of Stickens knows it too. And now this.

What’s stabbing me most of all is how easy all this has been for her. How easy
I’ve
made it for her. Empty house, newly single man living alone, all she had to do was toss a few heavy hints here and there and now look at what she’s got.

Worst of all is the one thought that keeps playing like a loop in my head. I’m not exactly in a position to criticise, now am I? I’ve played around a bit, so how can I expect Dan not to? But try as I might, I keep coming back to the same, sickening thought.