City Lives (43 page)

Alma soaped herself lazily. She was enjoying the break in Ireland. Terry and Maggie had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure their visit was a success. They couldn’t do enough for them.
Terry was being
so
attentive. He fancied her rotten. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and he was always making sexy suggestive remarks, when Sulaiman and Maggie weren’t
around, of course. It was very gratifying. It was a pity he wasn’t living in Saudi any more. She was enjoying their flirtation.

Later, downstairs, Terry poured some drinks while they waited for the taxi. Sulaiman was already sitting on the sofa, all dressed in a lovely grey suit.

He stood up when Maggie entered. ‘You look stunning, Maggie,’ he complimented her and gallantly kissed her hand.

‘Thank you Suly, you look very dashing yourself,’ she said gaily, and accepted a gin and tonic from Terry. Moments later, Alma made her entrance. Terry’s eyes nearly popped out
of his head as he took in the apparition in front of him.

The black cocktail dress moulded every curve like a second skin. The off-the-shoulder neckline emphasized the creamy curve of breasts, the slit in the chiffony skirt showed tantalizing glimpses
of black-stockinged thigh when she moved. Her blonde hair curled alluringly over her shoulders. A diamond necklace sparkled at her throat. Alma looked like a Hollywood star.

‘Wow!’ breathed Terry.

‘You look fabulous,’ Maggie said as Alma did a twirl.

‘Nice dress,’ Sulaiman approved.

‘Have a drink.’ Terry was practically slobbering.

‘Thank you, Terry, you look
very
handsome,’ Alma purred, accepting her drink. She sat on the arm of the sofa and crossed her legs provocatively. Maggie felt like slapping
her. How could she behave so tartily in front of her husband? Poor Sulaiman, she’d done nothing but complain about him since she’d arrived.

That’s their problem, not yours. Forget it
, she told herself sternly.

‘I just want to make sure Mrs Ling knows where to contact us if she needs us.’ Maggie got up and headed towards the door.

‘Don’t fuss, Maggie, she won’t need us,’ Alma said airily.

‘Just in case,’ Maggie said firmly.

‘Make yourself at home, Mrs Ling. When the children are in bed relax and have whatever you want, won’t you,’ Maggie told the maid after she’d written down Devlin’s
phone number and her own mobile number.

‘Thank you, ma’am. I will. Have a nice time.’

‘We will,’ Maggie said cheerfully as the doorbell rang. ‘Here’s the taxi. Good night, everyone,’ she called. The children were playing a new Playstation game that
Terry had treated them to. They galloped downstairs to say good night.

‘You look lovely, Mammy,’ Shona said.

‘Are they
real
diamonds?’ Mimi asked Alma, round-eyed.

‘Yes they are, darling. Do you like them?’

‘They’re gorgeous,’ breathed Mimi. ‘You must be very,
very
rich.’

Sulaiman laughed. ‘I wish,’ he said.

‘Come on, rich man, let’s go.’ Terry patted his friend on the back and they trooped out laughing and looking forward to the revelries of the night ahead.

‘Devlin, you look radiant. Congratulations on your wonderful news. Both of you.’ Alma embraced Devlin warmly and then kissed Luke. ‘Thank you so much for
having this party for us. We are having the best time. I’m so glad we’re home for Christmas. I’d forgotten how evocative it is. I love hearing all the Christmas carols and songs
everywhere I go.’

‘Let me take your shawl, Alma. Sulaiman, how are you?’ Luke held out his hand and shook the other man’s firmly.

The party was in full swing. A hum of gaiety and a buzz of conversation floated out from the lounge. A waitress in a black dress and a little white apron took Sulaiman’s coat and
Alma’s pashmina from Luke, and held out her hand for Maggie’s and Terry’s coats. Another waitress carrying a tray of champagne glasses came over to them. The golden liquid
sparkled and bubbled under the light of the chandelier.

‘Oooh, champagne. I adore it.’ Alma took a glass and sipped eagerly.

‘Maggie?’ Devlin urged.

‘I will, thank you.’ Maggie grinned and took one of the slender flutes.

‘No need to ask us,’ chuckled Terry as he handed a glass to Sulaiman and took one for himself.

‘Come into the lounge,’ Devlin invited. ‘You know some of the people here. They’ve been at our summer barbecues.’

‘Are the Madigans here?’ Sulaiman asked. Andy Madigan was, like him, a kidney specialist. They had a lot in common. Sulaiman was always trying to persuade his Irish colleague to come
out to Saudi.

‘They are.’ Devlin smiled, leading the way. ‘And so is Walter Whelan. You beat him at Scrabble at that wild party in Maggie’s house a couple of years back.’

‘Remember that party! We were all smashed.’ Alma giggled.

‘Excellent!’ Sulaiman’s eyes brightened. This was going to be a good night.

They walked into Devlin’s sitting-room and Alma gasped. ‘Oh Devlin, what a magnificent tree. And what beautiful decorations.’

‘The tree was Luke’s doing! You should have seen him trying to get it up in the lift. My husband doesn’t do things by halves,’ she said fondly. ‘He brings home half
a forest.’

‘It’s only a twig, girl,’ Luke declared with a boyish grin.

‘It’s a mighty twig!’ Maggie murmured in awe.

‘Well, you know me, Maggie. I have to outdo the neighbours,’ Luke said straight-faced and Maggie burst out laughing. The six-foot tree, adorned with tiny gold lights and dozens of
little red and gold bows, was reflected in the big patio doors and massive bevelled mirror over the mantelpiece. The effect was stunning.

‘It’s a beauty!’ Maggie congratulated Luke.

‘I know,’ he said smugly.

‘Andy Madigan!’ Sulaiman made a beeline for his colleague and was embraced in a giant bear-hug by the red-bearded six-footer.

‘Sulaiman Al Shariff, when are you going to leave that safe little job of yours and come over here and do some cutting-edge stuff?’

‘Ha,’ scoffed Sulaiman. ‘When are you going to be a big boy and leave Mammy’s apron strings and come to the desert and sit under starry skies drinking home-made
liquor?’

‘Sure I can do that on Dollymount strand.’ Andy laughed.

‘Alma, what a divine dress. Welcome home for Christmas.’ Mary Madigan kissed the younger woman warmly. ‘Did you know that Wendy Gaffney’s gone out to Saudi as a theatre
sister?’

‘Yes would you believe, I bumped into her in the souk and . . .’

‘That’s Alma and Sulaiman taken care of,’ Devlin murmured out of the side of her mouth, as she put a hand in the small of Maggie’s back and propelled her towards the
window.

The doorbell rang. ‘I’ll get it, I know you two are just bursting to have a little natter,’ Luke offered.

‘I’m going to get a beer, this fizzy stuff does nothing for me.’ Terry drained his glass.

‘Come with me old son, there’s beer, shorts, anything you want.’ Luke pointed him in the direction of the bar, set up in the dining-room and staffed by a pixie-faced little
waitress.

‘Nice waitress,’ Terry approved.

‘That’s Terry taken care of,’ Maggie said dryly. ‘He’ll be off to practice his charms on her. Poor thing.’

‘You look fantastic, Maggie,’ Devlin eyed her friend up and down. ‘You’ve lost weight.’

‘Do you think so?’ Maggie was delighted. ‘You know they’re the three best words in the English language. Better even than “I love you.”’

‘Depends who’s saying the “I love you.”’ Devlin’s eyes strayed towards Luke, who was laughing heartily at something the new arrivals at his side had said.

‘Still mad about him after all these years?’ Maggie smiled down at her friend.

‘I’m so lucky,’ Devlin said simply. ‘Can you see my bump?’ she asked expectantly.

Maggie laughed at the tiny rounded curve of tummy that Devlin was so proud of.

‘Dear, if I had a tummy that size I’d be ecstatic,’ she said acerbically.

Devlin laughed. ‘Ah stop it, you know what I mean.’

‘I’m telling you it’s a boy! You’re carrying to the back.’ Maggie had had this conversation a dozen times before.

‘Do you really think so? I was huge with Lynn. I waddled!’ Devlin gazed down at her little protrusion.

‘Definitely!’ Maggie said firmly.

‘I feel great. That tiredness just vanished. It actually happened the weekend we were away in Powerscourt Springs.’ Devlin took an onion tartlet from the canapés tray resting
on a side-table and demolished it in two bites.

‘It’s an awful shame Caroline’s not here. It’s weird driving past the apartment.’ Maggie selected a smoked-salmon-mousse delicacy and munched away.

‘At least she’s settled into Galway. And she’s so busy she doesn’t have time to dwell on things too much. She won’t come home to Dublin for Christmas. Her father
wants her to stay. We want her to stay. But she’s adamant. She’s staying on her own in Galway. I just don’t understand it. If I were in her shoes I’d want to be with my
loved ones.’ Devlin sighed and bit into a stuffed mushroom.

‘She can be as stubborn as a mule sometimes when she gets a notion. But you know Caroline. She’s very self-sufficient. She likes solitude.’ Maggie went for a tiny portion of
crispy duck.

‘It seems so lonely. I kind of feel guilty because I asked her to go to Galway.’

‘Don’t, Dev. It was the best thing you could have done for her,’ Maggie said firmly as she licked her fingers. ‘For God’s sake get these things away from me before
I eat the whole tray. It’s a great party and thanks a million for having it. It will be the highlight of the visit. I was going to do a small dinner the night before they go but I told Terry
we’ll have to go to a restaurant. You couldn’t have a little soirée in peace with those kids. They’d be up and down whinging and whining, looking for drinks. Looking for
stories. It wouldn’t be worth it. So we’ll eat out. Will you and Luke come?’

‘We’d love to. They seem to be in good form. That’s a super dress that Alma’s wearing,’ Devlin remarked.

‘Don’t talk to me about that dress.’ Maggie made a face. ‘I’ve got the blisters on my feet still. Hasn’t she a fabulous figure though. I’d give anything
to have a figure like that.’ Maggie sighed. Alma was perched on the arm of a sofa with her legs crossed to give the best view of her thigh. A cluster of men stood around her, entertaining
her. She was like a queen bee.

‘She wears her make-up very heavy though. That lip pencil went out with the button boots. Very drag-queeny around the mouth! And that Farah Fawcett blonde hair went out in the
Eighties,’ Devlin observed.

Maggie snorted. ‘You bitch, Delaney. Terry thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. She prances downstairs every morning in this black wispy thing that floats around her and shows off
her boobs. He’s shameless. He just sits there looking at them and of course she’s sticking them out all over the place. I don’t know how Sulaiman puts up with the way she
behaves.’

‘Maybe he doesn’t care,’ Devlin said.

‘Oh he does, I think. She told me that he couldn’t get it up any more and it’s as if she flaunts herself to let him see what he’s missing. It’s a weird
relationship. Almost as weird as me and Terry.’ She made a face.

‘Things no better?’

‘No. The pretence is over. I told you, as soon as I get the book handed in, I’m getting my own room up in the attic,’ Maggie said firmly.

‘Oh look, here’s Janice Sullivan. We’re in for a laugh. I’m really glad she could come. She and Alma always get on great at the barbecues. I’d better go and start
circulating for a while. I’m being so rude. As soon as your visitors are gone we’ll try and have our Christmas lunch. Caroline has to come up to Dublin to sort out some business stuff
and she wants to scatter Richard’s ashes on Killiney Hill. We’ll fix it for then,’ Devlin suggested as Janice bore down on them.

‘Girls! Wait until I tell you. I don’t know if you’ve heard,’ Janice was bursting to tell them some snippet of gossip she’d picked up. ‘Paula Walls has left
Dan and has gone to live with Norma Kennedy . . . as a
couple
!’

‘
What!
’

Devlin and Maggie exclaimed simultaneously. This
was
gossip of the highest order.

‘Yes it’s true.’ Janice was highly satisfied with the impact her bombshell had made. ‘Seemingly . . .’ She went on to regale her two friends with the steamy details
of Dublin’s latest society scandal.

It was that sort of party.

By eleven everything was humming along, chat and laughter raising the rafters. A magnificent buffet of hot and cold food had been served and Maggie was delightfully tipsy.

She was having a ball chatting with friends of hers and Devlin’s whom she hadn’t seen for ages. She was talking to an interior-designer friend of theirs when Sulaiman came up to her,
looking extremely agitated.

‘Can I interrupt you for a moment, Maggie?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ she said, surprised. ‘Excuse me, Rosie.’ She moved away to a quiet corner.

‘What’s wrong – is everything OK?’ Sulaiman’s eyes were bright and his cheeks flushed. He’d been drinking quite heavily.

‘No, Maggie, everything is not OK,’ he said distractedly, his accent becoming more pronounced. ‘My wife and your husband are in a room down the hall and they have been there
for the past fifteen minutes. I’m going to go in.’

Maggie felt her stomach lurch. She’d hardly noticed Terry all evening, she’d been too busy enjoying herself.

‘You’re making a mistake, Sulaiman. I’m sure you are,’ she murmured, scanning the room to see if there was any sign of the two. ‘Are they in the
dining-room?’

‘I’m telling you, Maggie, that slut has gone into a room with Terry, I saw them with my own eyes. And he is supposed to be my friend.’

His voice was getting louder.

‘Shush, Suly. You must be mistaken,’ Maggie said in desperation, sure that Terry wouldn’t be so stupid as to go canoodling with Alma at Devlin’s party.

‘I’m
not
mistaken,’ Sulaiman raged. ‘And I will prove it to you.’ He barrelled down the room towards the door, with Maggie in tow.