Better Together (34 page)

His affair – the disastrous affair before Lulu – had been entirely different. And afterwards, shocked though Nina had
been, she’d forgiven him. Sean, stunned at how things had turned out, had allowed her practical nature to take over. They had a family, she’d said. That was more important than anything. And perhaps, she conceded, she’d been partly responsible, because she’d thrown herself into her mission of turning the Bawnee River Guesthouse into the best in Ireland. She’d taken him for granted. She’d made a mistake.

Sean was happy to allow Nina to shoulder some of the blame for what had happened. And, he’d reasoned, he wouldn’t have looked at another woman if he’d been perfectly happy at home. So it wasn’t all his fault. Nevertheless, he’d sworn it wouldn’t happen again. At the time, he’d meant it.

He knew that he’d let Nina down by having a fling (he didn’t even want to use the word affair this time) with Lulu Adams. But that was all it was. Caught up in the excitement of
Chandler’s Park
and his new life, he’d hardly have been human if he hadn’t been attracted to the voluptuous actress. And he knew that on set he’d regained a lot of the arrogance and attitude that had made him such a desirable date in his younger years too. OK, it wasn’t right, exactly. But that was the way it was. And he’d been sure that Nina would understand and forgive him, even if he’d let her down again.

Instead she’d been so bloody angry that he’d decided it would be better to stay away from the house for a while. Nina had thought she was telling him to go. From Sean’s point of view, he was removing himself from the line of fire until things had cooled down a bit. Now that they had, he wanted to come back. The thing with Lulu had run its course. He’d got Lulu, and the idea of being a man about town again, out of his system. It was time for him to come home. He hadn’t believed that Nina would be able to ignore the
barrage of calls and emails that he’d sent her, but he knew she wouldn’t ignore a missive from his solicitor. Even though she’d tried to be distant to him when he’d turned up at the guesthouse, he knew that the idea of selling it had shocked her. Not that it would come to that. Nina was his wife. She always would be.

Sheridan still didn’t know what to do about her date with Joe. So far he hadn’t called or texted to say that he didn’t want to see her, and yet she couldn’t for a second imagine that he’d want to have dinner with her now. Nor could she imagine that he didn’t know about her turning up at March Manor – she was sure it had been a hot topic of gossip at the house over the rest of the weekend. Of course he had said that he was going to be away for a few days, so he might not have immediately been aware of it, but surely by now they’d have said something to him. Mistaking journalists for taxi drivers wasn’t an everyday occurrence, after all.

She took out her phone and checked it for messages again. But there weren’t any. She knew that she was being silly and that she should just call him herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. Besides, if he was away on business, he wouldn’t necessarily welcome a call from her saying that she was sorry she’d impersonated a cab driver and stalked his father. Best wait, she thought, until the last possible moment. And then . . . well, she hadn’t decided yet.

To distract herself, she phoned Myra to tell her about the congratulatory baby piece that DJ wanted to do.

‘I’ll send you a picture of her,’ said Myra. ‘She’s an absolute dote. I’m over the pain of it now. I tell you something, nobody ever admits to the total agony that childbirth is. I
mean, you see it in all those historical movies where women are sweating and screaming and biting on rags and stuff and you think that it’s moved on, but I swear to God it hasn’t. The air around me was totally blue from the things I was shouting. But then the little darling was in my arms and, oh, I dunno, you do sort of forget.’

‘D’you want me to say all that in the piece?’ asked Sheridan in amusement.

‘Ah, no. I don’t want to be scaring any other poor pregnant woman out there. All I’m saying is that it’ll be a long time before Barney Clarke gets next or near me again.’

Sheridan laughed. ‘Are you looking forward to coming back to work, or will you want to stay with your baby? I’m sure the readers of the
Central News
will want to know.’

‘She’s only a couple of days old,’ said Myra. ‘Right now, I don’t want to let her out of my sight. But I’m sure that’ll change slightly over time. How’s it going for you? Keeping my chair warm OK?’

‘I think they’d prefer it if you were still here,’ Sheridan told her.

‘I didn’t get a chance to look at the paper this weekend, what with being so busy pushing Genevieve out of a body that truly needs a better design for the job,’ said Myra. ‘But I’m sure it’s great.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Sheridan. ‘I’m not entirely up to speed yet, but the good news is that I’m on top of the accounts stuff so far; that’s what I was most scared of.’

‘How’re the horror-scopes going?’

‘Not too bad. I feel a bit guilty about people believing in them, though. It ends up being a kind of responsibility, doesn’t it? Nina Fallon reads hers religiously.’

‘You’d be surprised how many people do. But, hey, you’re just giving thoughts that can apply to anyone. And if they help . . .’

‘I hope so, but I’m not convinced.’

‘And I believe you were sampling more of Ardbawn’s glittering social life on Saturday night.’

Sheridan smiled and said that she’d been totally taken aback to discover that Laura was Myra’s sister.

‘Sure we’re all related down here in Ardbawn,’ quipped Myra. ‘My sister is genuinely talented, though. Part of me thinks she could be the next Lainey Keogh or Orla Kiely, but she’s far too modest.’

‘Maybe I should do a piece about reviving old crafts,’ mused Sheridan. ‘I know knitting clubs have become very popular again. It might be interesting to find out if any well-known people knit or sew or crochet or whatever. Maybe get Laura to do a special pattern for them.’

‘Sports people,’ suggested Myra. ‘You must know some of them. It’s a good idea.’

‘Glad you think so,’ said Sheridan. ‘I need something to keep DJ happy right now. I’m not entirely flavour of the month with him today.’

‘Why?’

Sheridan told her about calling to Paudie O’Malley’s house.

‘What on earth made you do that?’ asked Myra in absolute astonishment.

‘I thought there might be a story.’

‘Paudie’s a total darling,’ said Myra. ‘He’s a great family man. When Michael’s away, Sinead and Josh often spend a few days with him. I guess that’s a side to him that people don’t see.’

Sheridan didn’t say that wasn’t the story she’d planned to write.

‘I like Josh,’ she said.

‘He’s a good kid,’ agreed Myra. ‘Involved in every sport there is. Just like his dad. I went out with him myself, you know.’

‘Josh’s dad! Michael? You’re kidding me! When?’

‘Ah, years ago. I was mad about him. All big and manly and outdoorsy.’

‘Why did you split up?’

‘I was too much of a dipstick for him,’ said Myra cheerfully. ‘Sinead suits him much better.’

‘Do you know her well?’

‘We’re not really in the same social set.’ Myra shrugged. ‘Not that she gives herself airs or graces or anything like that, but her life is way different to mine. I went out with Peter for a few weeks too,’ she added casually.

‘What!’ Sheridan supposed it wasn’t unusual that in a small town people’s relationships would be entangled, but it was freaking her out that Myra (and everyone else in the town) seemed to be involved in some way or another with the O’Malleys.

‘It wasn’t anything much. He was into motorbikes and so was I. But there was no spark there. I never slept with him.’

‘Too much information,’ said Sheridan.

Myra chortled. ‘DJ says there’s no such thing as too much information when it comes to being a reporter.’

‘He’s probably right,’ acknowledged Sheridan. ‘But I’m not doing a piece on the hearts you broke in Ardbawn!’

‘Oh, we’re only scratching the surface here,’ Myra assured her. ‘Not that it matters, because despite what I told you
earlier, my heart belongs to Barney Clarke, and no matter how I feel now, sooner or later I’ll let him peck me chastely on the cheek again.’

‘That’s a relief. And how about the other two O’Malleys? How well do you know them?’

‘I occasionally babysat Cushla,’ said Myra. ‘She’s the sweetest of them all, and when Peter went off to boarding school, she was home on her own a lot of the time. It was the year that Elva died. I was fifteen or sixteen and she was about ten. I felt so sorry for her.’

‘What do you think about Elva’s death?’ It had never occurred to Sheridan that the greatest font of information on the O’Malleys had worked at the
Central News
herself.

‘I was only a kid at the time, but the general consensus was that drink had something to do with it,’ said Myra. ‘I’d only met her a couple of times myself back then, but she was a strange woman. Really friendly one minute and distant the next. I never felt entirely comfortable with her.’

‘Had she mental problems, d’you think?’

‘Not that I know of – hey, are you interviewing
me
now?’

‘God, no,’ said Sheridan. ‘It’s fascinating stuff, that’s all.’

‘Only because you weren’t living here at the time,’ said Myra. ‘In Ardbawn it was just a tragedy.’

‘I guess so.’

‘Don’t waste your time with the O’Malleys,’ advised Myra. ‘They’re decent people.’

For the first time since the idea of investigating Paudie O’Malley had come to her, Sheridan thought that perhaps the statement was true. He was a decent man who’d had a tragedy in his life. So had his children. Who the hell was she to think that it could have been anything more?

‘Oops, gotta go,’ said Myra. ‘My bundle of joy is making some mewing noises, which I think means she’s hungry again. I’m nothing but a mobile feeding station as far as she’s concerned. I’ll send you the photo by tomorrow.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome,’ said Myra, and hung up.

Sheridan looked at the doodles she’d made on the page in front of her as she’d been talking to Myra. Myra and Mike. Myra and Peter. But not Myra and Joe. They hadn’t got round to talking about Joe. Sheridan was sure that all the other girl would have said was that he was a decent man. Like the rest of his family.

By the end of the following evening Joe still hadn’t phoned or texted and Sheridan was in a complete quandary. Did he know about her intrusion into the family home or not? And if he did, did he plan to meet her simply to tear strips off her like DJ had? (To be fair, Sheridan allowed, DJ had been nice about it in the end. She wasn’t entirely sure that Joe O’Malley would take the same relaxed approach.) She didn’t know what he’d think of her. But she cared about that, and that was the problem. She’d be able to take whatever he threw at her and deal with it if it didn’t matter to her personally. Leaving aside (if that was remotely possible) the way he made her feel, she liked Joe O’Malley. She wanted him to like her too. Because of the buzz and the electricity, it mattered a lot.

She let out her breath slowly. She felt as though she was no longer in control of her own life, that she didn’t really know why she was making the choices she did. She wished she had a fairy godmother who would wave a wand and make everything turn out all right. Knowing it was all up to herself was hard.

Her phone rang and her heart thudded. Maybe it was Joe
at last. Even if he’d ducked out of their date, it would be a relief to know for sure.

However, the caller was Talia, asking if she’d like to come to Belfast the following weekend for the launch of a new nightclub. It would be full of hip and happening people, Talia told her and might be a bit of a laugh. She was going along to check out the style and write about it. Like old times, she added, so I hope you can come.

Sheridan agreed straight away. ‘I can’t wait to see you,’ she said. ‘I miss being able to talk to you every day.’

‘You can talk to me any time,’ said Talia. ‘What’s texting for?’

‘It’s not the same.’

‘You OK?’ asked Talia, concerned that Sheridan’s bleak tone was so untypical of her.

‘Sure. Yes. I’m fine.’

‘All set up for your big date tomorrow night?’

Sheridan hesitated, then brought her friend up to speed on the latest developments.

‘Lordy, lordy,’ said Talia. ‘You’ve muddied the waters a bit, haven’t you?’

‘I thought this was a bigger town than it is,’ said Sheridan. ‘Everybody knows everybody else and they’re all pals or related or something! It never occurred to me that Joe was Paudie’s son. Of course if the original reporter had spelled Mike’s surname right when they were writing about the wedding, I might have made the connection. Or maybe not. Who knows? My mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be, that’s for sure. Maybe I have sheep-brain or something.’

‘He might think it’s funny,’ said Talia.

‘Or perhaps he’ll just think I’m a crazy psycho.’

‘You’ll never know till you see him.’

‘I can’t.’ Sheridan sounded suddenly panicked. ‘It’s too embarrassing.’

‘Are you planning to be the one who cancels, so?’

‘Right now, I don’t know what I’m planning to do.’

‘Listen to me, Sheridan Gray. Once you’re wearing that sexy dress, it doesn’t matter what you’ve done. He’ll be smitten.’

‘I think it’ll take more than a dress.’

‘Don’t underestimate the power of good clothes,’ said Talia. ‘Think about Liz Hurley. An entire career built around a dress held together by safety pins. Even if they were Versace safety pins.’

‘After the fool I made of myself in gatecrashing March Manor, I’m lucky to have a job, let alone a date,’ observed Sheridan.

‘It’ll all work out,’ Talia told her. ‘The job and the date. And if he does cancel, no harm done.’

‘I guess not.’

But after she hung up from Talia, she knew that she didn’t want him to cancel. Even though she was terrified at the thought of meeting him again.

She spent the following day with her mobile on the desk in front of her, jittery with anxiety over its silent state and equally anxious any time it beeped or rang. DJ asked her a number of times what the matter was. He’d never seen her so jumpy, he said; was she now working on some secret exposé about the dog show or something?