It's All About Him (27 page)

Dee couldn't help feeling hurt. Neil hadn't been interested in seeing her again; it was all about Sam.

'I think if you let him get to know Sam, he might stay,' Peggy said, tentatively. 'He's been checking out commercial properties that would make a suitable depot.'

'Does anyone call looking for him?' Dee probed. 'Does he get any post?'

Peggy frowned. 'I'm not sure. I'm usually out when the postman comes. Why?'

Dee frowned. 'I asked him for a reference; someone who could vouch for his story but he hasn't come up with one yet.'

'I'm sure he will.'

'Are you?' Dee wasn't convinced.

'But look at him, Dee,' Peggy urged. 'Look at the way he dresses and look at the car.'

'He could just be on a winning streak,' Dee said dismissively.

'But he even sounds different from the way he used to when he phoned me,' Peggy insisted.

Dee nodded slowly. She had noticed that too. The nervous edgy tone from his gambling days was missing and Neil sounded more like the outgoing young man she had first met.

'I know it's hard, Dee, but you don't have to rush into this. Sam has survived this long without knowing his father; he can survive a while longer. But please don't dismiss the possibility that maybe Neil could be a part of Sam's life, for my sake?'

Dee reached over to squeeze her hand. 'Even if I do agree, Peggy, have you realized how hard it would be to explain everything to Sam? How do you think he'll feel about us when he finds out he's had a grandmother all these years?'

Peggy sighed. 'We'll have to explain that we were just trying to protect him.'

The doorbell chimed again and they looked at each other in alarm. 'Do you think it's him?' Dee whispered.

'It could be.'

'I can't let him in, Peggy, if Sam should wake—'

'Of course you can't! Don't worry, I'll persuade him to come home with me.'

Dee let Peggy go first but she followed her, afraid that Neil would push past his mother and demand to see his son.

Peggy opened the door and peered out. 'Hello?'

'Er, hi.'

Dee groaned as she recognized Conor's voice. She immediately came to stand by Peggy's side. 'Conor, hi, what are you doing here?'

'You sounded a bit down on the phone so I just dropped in to see if everything was okay.' His eyes moved from Dee back to Peggy.

'I'll go,' Peggy said immediately.

'Oh, please, don't go on my account,' Conor protested.

Peggy smiled tightly. 'I was leaving anyway. Goodbye, Dee, keep in touch.'

Dee bent to give the woman a quick hug. 'I will, Peggy, drive carefully.'

'Why did you come to the front door?' she asked Conor, leading the way back out to the kitchen.

'I saw the car and didn't want to interrupt anything.'

She laughed as she bent to pick up her empty glass. 'Like what?'

'I'm not sure,' he said, leaning against the worktop and watching her.

'Want a glass?' she went to the fridge and took out the bottle.

'No, I'm fine.'

She splashed wine into her own glass. 'How's the cow?'

'Okay.'

She shot him a nervous look. 'Come and sit down.'

'I can't stay long,' he said, dropping into the chair opposite. 'I'm sorry, I wouldn't have come at all if I'd known you had company.'

'I wasn't expecting Peggy.'

'Peggy?' He frowned. 'That's your mother's cousin, isn't it? I thought she was housebound.'

'She's been getting some therapy,' Dee said lamely, taking a long drink.

'And she even drives herself, and in the dark too,' Conor marvelled.

'What are you saying?' she said sharply.

'I just think it's great; she's overcome a lot. Sam must be delighted. She'll be able to come and visit whenever she likes now.'

'Yes, I suppose she will.' Dee sighed. That hadn't occurred to her but of course Conor was right. Sam would now expect Peggy to play a fuller and more active part in his life and if she didn't it would mean telling more lies. Could her life get any more complicated?

'Dee, what's wrong?'

She looked up to find him watching her closely. 'Nothing.'

'Fine, don't tell me. I'll go.' He went to stand up.

She put a hand on his arm. 'Conor, don't go. Look, it's been a tough day, that's all.'

'Is this about Neil?'

'No!'

'You've seen him again, haven't you?' Conor persisted.

'No, I haven't.' She drained her glass and carried it over to the sink.

'Then you were talking to him.'

She turned around, her face incredulous. 'Conor, are you calling me a liar?'

'Would I be so wrong?' he countered. 'You're not exactly forthcoming, are you?'

'This is ridiculous!' she exclaimed. 'I don't have to tell you every single thing that happens in my life, do I?'

Conor looked at her and shook his head. 'No – no of course you don't.' He stood up and crossed to the back door.

'Where are you going?'

'I'm not going to stay where I'm not wanted.'

'Conor, don't be stupid!'

He stood in the doorway looking at her, waiting.

'Come back in.' She looked at him. 'Please?'

He closed the door again and leaned his large frame against it. 'It might be better if I went. It's not really working, is it?'

'Isn't it?' Dee said, confused.

'You've changed, Dee. I practically have to make an appointment to see you these days and I hear more about what's going on in your life from my dad than I do from you.'

'That's not true.'

'I'm on the edge of your life,' he continued as if she hadn't spoken, 'a peripheral. You don't see me as anything more than that.'

'That's rich coming from you,' Dee retorted.

Conor looked at her, exasperated. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'You're a loner, Conor, a bachelor. You like to see me a couple of times a week, but you also like your own space. I'm fine as long as I fit into the part of your life you've allocated me but no more than that.'

'Of all the crap you've ever spouted—'

'It's okay, I went along with it,' she assured him.

Conor sighed. 'It's all about him, isn't it?'

She nodded, swallowing back the tears. 'Always.'

He nodded and smiled slightly. 'I suppose that's it then.'

She watched in shock as he turned, opened the door and stepped out into the darkness. 'Conor?'

He paused, his face in shadow. 'I want to see Sam. I don't want to just drop out of his life.'

She swallowed hard. 'That would be great.' She took a step towards him but he just turned away.

'Goodnight, Dee.'

Dee stared after him until his car was out of sight before stumbling back inside. Going upstairs, she slipped into Sam's room, settled him more comfortably on his pillow and kissed his forehead. Crossing the hall to her own room, she crawled into bed, dragged the covers up over her head and cried.

Lisa sat at the kitchen table reading applications for the position of Dee's assistant. 'Some of these look really good, although I still don't understand what was wrong with the girl you met last week; she seemed fine to me.'

'You think?' Dee continued kneading bread.

Lisa sat back in her chair and frowned at her friend. 'What is wrong with you, Dee?'

'Nothing.'

Lisa turned her head to make sure the door to the hall was closed. 'Is it Neil? Has he been in touch?'

'There's nothing wrong, okay?'

'I haven't seen Conor around much, have you fallen out?'

'He took Sam up to the farm yesterday,' Dee reminded her.

'That was Sam, not you.'

Dee stopped kneading. 'We've broken up.'

'Oh, Dee, I'm so sorry!'

Dee went back to her bread-making.

'Is it because Neil's back?' Lisa pressed.

'It has nothing to do with him, Lisa.'

'So it was your idea.'

Dee shrugged. 'It was mutual.'

'Ah.'

Dee looked up. 'What does that mean?'

'Nothing.'

'He did not dump me.'

Lisa shrugged innocently.

'And I didn't dump him.'

'Maybe not consciously,' Lisa agreed.

Dee sighed. 'Spare me the amateur psychology, Lisa, I'm not in the mood.'

'I won't say another word on the matter. Now, let me phone a couple of these candidates and set up interviews.'

'I'm not sure—'

'You promised Ronan.'

Dee sighed. 'Okay, okay, but I can only interview on Monday or Friday afternoons.'

'Yes, ma'am.' Lisa saluted and flicked through the pages in front of her. 'I think Kitty Burns looks interesting and Des O'Shea.'

'I don't want to work with a man,' Dee said vehemently, 'for a whole load of reasons.'

Lisa chuckled. 'You're probably right. What about Vera Matthews?'

'That's the retired chef from Donegal?'

'Yes, she moved down here to be near her daughter and is finding she has too much time on her hands.'

'Yes, she could fit the bill.'

'I'll call those two so.' Lisa stood up.

'No, leave it, you've enough to do; I'll call them both later.'

'It's no trouble—'

Dee smiled. 'It's okay, Lisa, I'm not nursing a broken heart and I'm not about to fall apart.'

'I know that but you could still do with a little TLC.'

'When I've finished up here I'm going to get my hair done,' Dee announced.

'Oh, God, no!'

'What?'

'You always do something drastic when you're emotional.'

'I do not and I am not emotional; I'm perfectly fine.'

Lisa shot her a knowing look. 'If you say so.'

'So, Dee, what would you like me to do?'

Dee studied her reflection and then met Louise Mulvaney's pretty eyes. 'I think I'd like to try something different?'

'Great!'

Dee listened vaguely as Louise talked. 'That sounds fine,' she said when she realized that the hairdresser was waiting for a response.

Louise smiled kindly. 'I'll get you a mug of tea and some magazines. You just switch off and relax for a while; we'll look after you.'

Dee nodded gratefully, and as one of the girls applied highlights to her hair, she buried her face in between the covers of
Cosmopolitan
and closed her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss holidays or celebrities or even her son; especially her son.

As if Sam knew that she and Conor had broken up, he seemed to talk about no one else. Dee had made it clear to Conor when he asked to spend the afternoon with Sam the previous day that she didn't want him to say anything.

'He doesn't need any heavy, detailed explanations,' she'd explained, 'it would only upset him. It's better if he just gradually gets used to us seeing less of each other.'

Conor had looked at her, his face grim. 'Until we don't see each other at all.'

'Like you said, it's a small town,' she reminded him, 'and I don't know about you but we're not planning on going anywhere.'

'What if he asks questions?' Conor had persisted.

'Answer them honestly, if possible, and keep it brief, but if there's anything you're not comfortable with, tell him to ask me.'

Dee had been a nervous wreck by the time Sam had arrived home, but he had been happy, dirty and tired. His only preoccupation was Boxer, Conor's Labrador.

'Do you think I'll ever be able to have a dog, Mum?'

'I don't know, sweetheart. You weren't near Boxer, were you?'

'No.' Sam had shaken his head sadly. 'Conor always locks him in the barn when I'm there.'

'Doctor Bill says it would be okay for you to have a budgie or maybe even a guinea pig.'

Sam had shot her a scornful look and turned over to go asleep but he hadn't mentioned anything about Conor who'd confirmed in their brief conversation on her doorstep that the little boy had been in good form and hadn't asked any awkward questions.

But eventually he would, of course, and between Neil, Peggy and Conor she wondered if she would be able to give him the answers he wanted and needed. She gave an involuntary sigh and the hair stylist stopped and caught her eye in the mirror. 'I'm sorry, did I hurt you?'

Dee smiled tremulously. 'No, someone just walked over my grave.'

Later that afternoon, Martha was walking across the hall with the nappy bucket in her arms when Dee walked in. She dropped the bucket and stared. 'Oh. My. God.'

'Is it that bad?' Dee asked nervously.

'No! No, it's lovely.' Martha rescued the bucket and smiled reassuringly. 'It's just . . . different.'

Dee put a self-conscious hand to her cropped, streaked hair. 'I fancied a change,' she said lamely.

Martha grinned. 'Great idea, although I'm not sure what Vi's going to say.'

'Vi!' Dee looked at her watch. 'Oh, shit!'

Martha laughed, holding the bucket aloft. 'I know what you mean.'

Dee took a deep breath and pushed open the kitchen door. 'Vi, I'm so sorry.'

'Yes, yes, of course you are,' the other woman grumbled without looking up.

'I, er, hope this isn't a problem.'

'I'm in no rush—' Vi looked up and the smile froze on her face. 'Oh, good grief, what have you done?'

'I felt like a change.'

Vi flopped down into a chair. 'Well, don't just stand there, put the bloody kettle on.'

'So what's this all about?' Vi asked as Dee turned on the tap.

'What do you mean?'

Vi sighed. 'Most women would be happy to wash that man right out of their hair but not you; you had to cut him out.'

Dee looked at her and said nothing, her eyes large and luminous against the feathered hair that framed her face.

'It's nice in a punkish sort of way,' Vi conceded.

Dee laughed. 'The stylist wanted to add a few pink stripes but I didn't feel that brave. Have I screwed up your work?'

Vi shrugged. 'No, I'm working on detail now although it's been rather hard given you weren't here.'

'Sorry.' Dee turned to make a strong coffee for Vi and a mug of tea for herself. Vi produced her hip flask and shot Dee a questioning look.

'God, no, not for me,' Dee laughed, carrying the drinks to the table and going to fetch the milk.

Vi added a liberal shot of brandy to her own mug and carefully screwed the top back on. 'So, Conor's gone then.'