City Lives (29 page)

‘Yeah, well I’m good at running away from mine and I wish I could run away from the Ciara Hanlon débâcle.’ Devlin sighed despondently as she turned off the
roundabout at The Point and drove along the North Wall.

‘Look, I’m in charge of personnel, if you want me to sit in on the interview with Ciara, I will. And at the end of the day you make the decision that you’re most happy with and
that you can live with,’ Caroline said supportively. ‘Things will work out. Don’t worry.’

‘I hope so.’ Devlin was unconvinced. One way or the other it was all going to be a load of hassle.

Luke didn’t phone as he usually did, at least once, and she was too stubborn to pick up the phone and ring him herself. He was in the wrong upsetting her, she thought self-righteously.
Besides, she still wasn’t sure about the correctness of his and Caroline’s reasoning. Surely it would be much more compassionate to just sack Ciara without a reference and give her a
chance to start afresh. The Lord always showed mercy and compassion to sinners.

She dialled Caroline’s extension and put that argument to her. Triumphantly, it had to be said.

‘You’re right, Devlin,’ Caroline agreed cheerfully. ‘But He loved the sinner, not the sin. And don’t forget, He showed righteous anger in the Temple when he
horsewhipped the sellers. Mercy and compassion is one thing. Letting people get way with wrongdoing is another.’

‘I can’t
believe
I’m having this conversation!’ Devlin declared in exasperation. ‘I must be crazy. I don’t even go to Mass.’

‘What’s that got to do with anything? You could go to Mass three times a day and still be a horrible, judgemental person,’ Caroline pointed out reasonably. ‘Look at Mrs
Yates. She practically lives in the church but she hasn’t an ounce of Christianity in her. It’s what’s in your heart that counts. And Delaney, you’ve got a big heart. Now
I’m going. I’ve got to work out Christmas holidays and bonuses. Bye bye. Maybe I should give up City Girl and go into spiritual healing. What do you think?’ Caroline teased.

‘I think you’d be very good at it, actually,’ Devlin said seriously. ‘Will you put the Light around me or whatever it is that you do? I’m off to give my
talk.’

‘Will do. You’ll be fine. I’ll see you this evening.’

‘Thanks, Caro. Bye.’ Devlin put the phone down and sat staring out the window. She could listen to Caroline for hours, talking about the spiritual stuff. It was very interesting to
hear of her friend’s experiences, but somehow she just couldn’t seem to adapt it to her own life. Still, she felt vaguely comforted that Caroline had put the Light around her, it
sounded so protective and Caroline had great faith in it. If it was good enough for Caroline it was good enough for her, Devlin thought with a smile as she got her coat and briefcase and headed out
to the lift.

The traffic was dire. She should have taken a taxi, she reflected, as she crawled past the Shelbourne. Caroline was right, she should start making life simpler for herself. She might start going
home early from the office on Fridays, she decided. She could spend time reading the stack of books and magazines that she’d never managed to get to. The thought cheered her up immensely. How
nice it would be to miss the rush-hour traffic on Friday evenings and instead be curled up on her big comfy sofa in front of the fire, reading and snoozing and tuning out completely.

What was the point in being successful if you didn’t reap the rewards of it?

It was a question she asked her audience of smart, highly intelligent and successful women, after they’d enjoyed a tasty lunch. Her speech had turned into an entertaining and lively
question-and-answer session and as the women shared their experiences with each other, Devlin forgot her worries over Ciara Hanlon and thoroughly enjoyed herself. It was with regret that she had to
leave the vibrant group to be back at the office for the interview with the magazine
Business Review
. The reporter was lazy and ill-prepared and Devlin had to struggle to contain her
impatience as she answered questions she’d been asked dozens of times before. It was a rare interview where she was asked an original and intelligent question, she thought wryly as she went
onto autopilot, only for the witless fool of a reporter to discover twenty minutes later that his tape recorder’s batteries were flat. Devlin felt like ramming it down his neck.

‘It was a great lunch,’ she told Caroline as they drove home, ‘but the interview was crap. The jerk kept calling me Delvin. I bet he’ll have it spelt wrong the whole way
through the interview. I corrected him a dozen times if I corrected him once but in the end I gave up. And when he found out that his batteries were flat I nearly went bananas.’

By the time she got home she was whacked. Luke wasn’t back yet so she headed for the shower. She wasn’t hungry. The lunch had been filling. He could look after himself for once, she
thought tiredly as the hot jets of water flowed over her body. She dried herself and wrapped herself in her towelling robe, trying not to get lockjaw from her prodigious yawns.

She’d have a ten-minute rest, she decided, too weary even to draw the curtains. She could see the lights of Dublin twinkling in the distance. She’d just lie quietly in bed and look
at them. Devlin crawled under the covers and stretched her weary limbs. It had been a very long and eventful day. She was asleep in seconds.

He should have phoned, Luke chastised himself as he sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the N11 coming up to Cornelscourt. He’d been so annoyed with her this morning he
hadn’t bothered. Then around lunch-time he’d decided to give Devlin a call but she wasn’t at her desk and her mobile had been switched off and that had really made him mad. If she
wanted to be
that
petty . . . forget it! Then he’d remembered that she was speaking at a lunch engagement and later she had an interview with a Sunday paper, and he’d felt bad
about the way he’d thought about her.

He’d bought her two dozen pink roses as a peace-offering. He hoped they weren’t withered in the boot.

He was nearly withered in this traffic, he thought irritably as he tapped his fingers impatiently against the steering-wheel. He had the usual East Link traffic snarl-up to deal with yet. It
would be a good hour before he was home. Luke sighed. He was tired and hungry. Maybe he should give Devlin a call, find out where she was and tell her he was on his way. If she was too tired to
cook they could eat out.

He called up her mobile number and frowned as it went into divert straight away. She must be still tied up.

He was surprised to see her bag and briefcase in the hall when he got home. He’d tried her mobile every so often and still got divert. He’d assumed then that he’d be home
before her. The only light on was the small lamp in the hall. Darkness in the lounge and kitchen. No sounds or aromas of cooking. No light from the bedroom and the curtains weren’t pulled.
She hadn’t been in there.

She must have gone out, he thought crossly as he plonked the roses into the sink and filled it with water. That wasn’t very nice. The least she could have done was to phone him and let him
know that she wouldn’t be in for dinner. He could have got himself a takeaway or stopped off at Wong’s or the little Italian place they liked. Just because they were having a row
didn’t mean that all communications had to break down.

Strange for her to come home and leave her bag and briefcase in the hall though, he puzzled as he rooted through the fridge.

Caroline’s! he thought triumphantly. That’s where she was. She was probably eating there too. Leaving him to starve! His stomach rumbled. He was ravenous. Maybe there was some of
that tasty lamb casserole that she often made and froze. He searched the freezer and found the container he was looking for. Perfect! Luke shoved it in the microwave and while it was heating he
buttered a big chunk of Vienna roll, lashed on some blackcurrant jam and munched away hungrily. He set a tray, poured himself a beer and when the casserole was heated he served it out, carried the
tray into the lounge, switched on the gas fire and the TV and plonked into the armchair. There was a match on. What more could a man want? Luke thought happily as he settled down to an evening of
peace and quiet.

By eleven, he was knackered. Devlin and Caroline must have settled in for a session. He wasn’t waiting up. He had to be up at the crack of dawn to go to London. He tidied away after him
and put his dishes in the dishwasher.

He was just about to put on the main light in the bedroom when he heard a sound. A little cough. Startled, he looked at the bed. In the light from the hallway he could see Devlin curled up under
the covers. She’d been here all along and he hadn’t realized it.

She must have gone straight to bed when she came in from work. She’d been telling him how tired the pregnancy made her feel. His heart softened. He’d been a bit rough on her this
morning. He was tempted to wake her up and apologize. But that wouldn’t be very fair, he thought regretfully, as he listened to her even deep breathing. She was obviously whacked. If he woke
her up she might not go to sleep again.

He left the light off and went into the
en suite
and had a quick shower before sliding into bed beside her. He put his arms around her and she snuggled in against him, still asleep.
Luke yawned. They’d make up in the morning and it would be all the nicer. He was asleep in minutes.

Devlin yawned and stretched. And blinked. Daylight showed through a chink in the curtains. How could it be bright? She’d only got into bed for a nap. And she hadn’t
pulled the curtains. Luke must have done that. She turned her head to look at the small travel clock beside the bed. Five to eight. She sat up, puzzled. It couldn’t be five to eight in the
morning, could it? She surely hadn’t slept round the clock?

She scrambled out of bed and pulled back the curtains. It was daytime. Raining and blowing a howling gale. A miserable sort of day. People were leaving for work. She should be showered and
dressed at this stage.

‘Oh Lord,’ she muttered as she ran her fingers through her hair. She hadn’t heard Luke come in. Hadn’t heard him come to bed. And she hadn’t heard him get up this
morning.

A thought struck her. Luke was going to London today. She wouldn’t see him again until the end of the week. Devlin burst into tears.

He’d gone to London without saying goodbye. Without making up their row. He’d never done that before.

She sat on the bed and put her face in her hands and cried. He must be as mad as hell with her. Well, he could go to hell himself. The next time he phoned she’d hang up. And he could stay
in London for all she cared.

Devlin wiped her eyes. What on earth was wrong with her? Where had all this weeping come from? Her hormones were running rampant.

A wave of nausea swamped her and eventually receded. Devlin crept back in under the bed covers. She remembered Caroline’s words about treadmills being of your own making. Maybe today
she’d step off hers. She’d phone Liz and tell her that she wasn’t coming in. She just felt too lethargic to make the effort. You had to listen to your body sometimes.

She lay quietly with her hands on her tummy, stroking her palms across it. She had to think about the baby too. Maybe a day of peace and calm would restore her equilibrium. She was going to
Galway in two days’ time, that would be difficult and tiring. At least Caroline was coming with her this trip. They were taking the morning train and flying home the same evening.

The rain battered off the window-pane and the skies darkened. A rumble of thunder in the distance signalled worsening weather. Devlin felt snug and cosy. She’d be mad to get dressed and go
haring into City Girl when she could stay at home and read
Memoirs of a Geisha
, curled up in bed while the rest of the world galloped along on their treadmills. It was like staying at home
sick from school. If her audience of successful businesswomen could see her now, they might not be too impressed. Devlin gave a wry smile. Anyway, who was to know? She rarely took a day off. She
was entitled.

Her stomach gurgled. She was hungry. It had been a long time since she’d eaten. She’d feel better after she’d had some toast. She always did. And today, seeing as she
wasn’t going into work, she’d just lick some toothpaste around her teeth instead of brushing them. That way she’d get to keep her breakfast down.

She headed into the kitchen and came to a full stop in front of the sink. Two dozen tightly budded pale pink roses filled the basin. A note was propped up against the kettle.

A lump in her throat nearly choked her. Luke had bought her pink roses and she’d been thinking he was the worst in the world. How disloyal of her. She should have known better. Tears
spurted from her eyes again.

‘This is ridiculous,’ she sobbed. She opened Luke’s note.

Dear Sleepy Head,

I wanted to wake you up this morning to say goodbye but you were fast asleep and I just couldn’t bring myself to. I hope you like the roses. I
didn’t mean to upset you. I love you. And don’t worry about the other thing. You do what you think fit. I’ll call later.

Love Luke.

XXXX

‘Oh Luke, I love you too,’ she hiccuped as she raced over to the phone and dialled his mobile number.

‘You’re in the land of the living,’ he greeted her, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

‘Oh Luke, why didn’t you wake me up? I wanted to say goodbye to you.’

‘Are you crying?’ Luke said.

‘Not, not really. I got the roses,’ Devlin sniffled.

‘Aha! So there
are
waterworks. I know you. You cry at the National Anthem.’ Luke laughed.

‘They’re beautiful. Thanks.’ She was feeling a hundred times better just hearing his voice.

‘Sorry I didn’t call yesterday. The phone was off all afternoon. I should have phoned earlier in the morning but you know yourself . . . I needed time to cool down.’