‘I’ll come straight down,’ she said into the receiver.
He looked at her with great admiration as she came down the steps to the hall. ‘You look so beautiful,’ he said.
Freda still felt shaken. She wanted to make a jokey remark to take the intensity out of it all. She wasn’t used to saying thank you and accepting such praise as almost her right. She said the first positive thing that came into her head.
‘And you look very handsome, just terrific, actually.’
He threw his head back and laughed. ‘Aren’t you so kind to say that! Now, let’s stop admiring each other and get into the car, out of the cold.’ He held open the door of a dark green Mercedes.
The drive down to Wicklow passed in a blur. Freda could scarcely remember how they got there, what they talked about. All she could see was Mark’s face as he concentrated on driving, as he smiled at her from time to time.
While Mark went to have his meeting with Miss Holly and her senior staff, Freda sat in the lounge by the fire in a big chintz-covered chair, a magazine unread on her lap, a cup of coffee untouched on a little table beside her. Instead, she looked into the flames and thought about what had been happening; and as she did so, from nowhere the pictures started forming in Freda’s mind. She fought them back, closed her eyes and opened them but still the pictures were there. Mark was in a room with people who were shouting. Miss Holly was sitting in a corner, weeping. Mark was looking calm and dismissive; he was telling her something very unwelcome and frightening. Whatever it was, it was wrong, it was all wrong.
Shakily, she pushed the vision aside. It was nonsense; it didn’t mean anything. She’d just dozed off and had a silly dream. She sighed, and again tried to rid herself of the images. But she felt dizzier and more confused.
Soon he was back.
‘How did it go?’ she asked.
‘Don’t ask. I’ll tell you when we are well out of range. Let’s go. You and I are free agents, nobody waiting for us; we don’t have to be anywhere except where we want to be.’
‘I have to be back. I open the library tomorrow, and I have to be in before eight.’
He smiled back. ‘Right. We’ll go for a meal, and no talk about work for either of us – is that a deal?’
‘It’s a deal,’ Freda said.
In the car they were quiet; Freda studied his face but Mark looked relaxed and happy. Freda began to feel that it had just been a mad dream. As he helped her out of the car, he kissed her, and all through dinner she could think of nothing else.
That night, they made love for the first time.
The following night, they went to the cinema. Freda didn’t even remember the film afterwards, just the sensation of sitting with her shoulder touching his. Later they went back to her flat.
On Friday he asked her to go to a concert but she had set up the meeting with Joe Duggan, the computer expert, and she hesitated. Mark’s face clouded over and he looked so disappointed, she knew she had to do something.
She called Lane.
‘I will do anything for you for the rest of my life. Anything. Scrub floors in your theatre . . .’
‘Who do I have to kill?’ Lane asked.
‘No, it’s this guy, Joe Duggan, who’s going to give the talk next week. I can’t meet him tonight at the library. Could you do it, tell him everything?’
‘Freda. No.’
‘I’m begging you on my knees.’
‘I can’t, I run a theatre. You’re the librarian.’
‘It’s only an old talk; you know the kind of thing they want.’
There was a silence.
‘Lane?’
‘It’s not like you, and it’s not only an old talk. It’s something you set up, and a lot of people are depending on you.’
‘Never again, just this once! I’ll tell Joe that I’ll contact him on Monday morning.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘I don’t know what I’ll do.’ There was a catch in Freda’s voice.
‘I think this is the shabbiest thing I have ever heard,’ Lane said.
‘But you’ll do it.’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank you, Lane, from the bottom of my heart . . .’ Freda began.
‘Goodbye, Freda.’
Freda called Mark.
‘Well?’ he asked.
‘I’m free this evening,’ she said.
‘I was so hoping you might be,’ Mark said.
The concert was heaven and at dinner afterwards, he told her that there was no one like her. He said how much he admired her work, and even gave her some ideas for a Friends night; he wanted to spend all his time with her, and make up for lost time. She couldn’t help herself: he was so sweet and caring, and she melted at his touch.
It was too sudden, too quick, she told herself. But then everyone had to meet somewhere and somehow. Would it have been any different if they had met at a dance, a club, in a crowded bar? But still she was nervous about letting herself go with the tide. But whenever he called, or they were together, she forgot all about her misgivings.
The Friends of the Library welcome all those who don’t know a thing about computers but want to learn. Joe Duggan will be here on Friday night to help all ages who want to be part of the tech world.
When Mark suggested they go away for a weekend, she hesitated once again. He couldn’t go away with her if he was married, it wouldn’t be possible. But the dreams kept coming. The face of the woman with the short blonde hair would not go away. She just knew it was Mark the woman was welcoming, and she could see the wedding ring in the dream.
If he were married, what would he be telling his wife as he headed off to the Dublin mountains with Freda? Freda was very confused. But she wasn’t about to give up the chance of such happiness.
When she called Lane to cover for her again with Joe, Lane didn’t have much to say. She listened to her friend and then agreed.
‘For Joe’s sake, not yours,’ she added icily.
Freda felt bad for her friend, but then thought about her weekend with Mark. Mark needed Freda on many levels, that was obvious. He wanted her for company, for friendship and for support as well as for sex. He loved her; he told her so. The marriage could only be one of convenience, she was so sure of that.
Eva hoped that this romance would settle down soon so that Freda could concentrate on other things apart from Mark Malone. She did seem besotted with the fellow and in a way, Eva could understand why. He was such a charmer, such an enthusiast. In many ways very suited to Freda. But Eva thought they were also very different. Mark was tougher, and he was going to get there, wherever it was, taking no prisoners. Freda was happy with life the way it was now.
He had got off on the wrong foot with Lane, but that would sort itself out in time. Lane had taken against Mark in a big way; she complained that Freda had lost interest in everything – her work, her friends, her whole life. ‘It’s as if a sort of mist or fog or something settled on her,’ she had said. ‘He controls her every move.’
They’d met him a number of times now but Lane still didn’t trust Mark.
Silly, foolish Agony Aunt, Eva told herself. Useless trying to work these things out logically, rationally. Still, it was a worry, all right. There was a possible storm gathering. Lane didn’t like him and didn’t trust him. He was the first man who had threatened such a solid friendship. Usually they encouraged each other about boyfriends and gave enthusiastic, supportive advice.
Freda would say that Lane had an army of brooding young men who fancied her. Lane would laugh, and say that these were all out-of-work actors; all they fancied was two weeks’ work in her theatre. Lane said that she knew of at least three people who went in to that library just to talk to Freda rather than to open a book. They were always wanting to ask Freda out, but she never seemed to understand this and kept finding books for them instead . . .
This strong reaction both for and against Mark Malone had been so out of character for both girls.
Due to the success of Joe Duggan’s ‘Don’t Fear Technology’ lecture last week, the Friends of Finn Road Library have decided that there should be twice-weekly sessions on this topic.
Freda called to Eva to borrow a black beaded jacket. She had been invited to a drinks party at Holly’s Hotel in a couple of weeks’ time. Mark had gathered some journalists and tour operators for what he called a social drink. It was really part of his long-term plan to get the press on board over the plans for the hotel.
Eva had hoped Freda would stay for lunch.
‘You see, Eva,’ said Freda, guiltily, ‘I don’t really have all that much time . . . I have so many things to do just now.’
Eva looked at her directly.
‘What, exactly?’
‘Oh, you know, all the stuff at the library; this Friends thing has really taken off due to Joe Duggan, and they can’t get enough of him.’
‘No thanks to you, though.’
‘What do you mean?’ Freda was startled.
‘Well, you weren’t there to show him round the library, Lane and I did that. And then you took off for a weekend with Mark the actual night of his talk.’
‘Yes.’ Freda looked at the ground.
‘So he had an elderly twitcher like myself, and the manager of an experimental theatre to help him set up. Lord knows what he would have been able to achieve if he’d had a real librarian on the case.’
‘You were great, you and Lane, I thanked you, you did brilliantly.’
‘You weren’t there.’ Eva was stern.
‘Look, you know . . . you know the way things are.’
‘No, I don’t, actually. Why don’t you come looking for woodpeckers with me? And why don’t you ask Mark along too?’
‘Thank you so much, Eva, but when I said I was busy, I really am. I have a few fences to mend, if you know what I mean.’
‘I know what you mean.’
Freda knew Aunt Eva was right. As far as Lane was concerned, it was as if a curtain had fallen over their friendship. She would put on her polite face, which was more unsettling to Freda than her angry face. It was so distancing, so chilly.
Lane had not forgiven Freda for disappearing the night of Joe Duggan’s talk.
To Freda, it was really most petty and unfair of Lane to take this attitude. Joe had been a huge success; he was going to have his own series. In all her years at the library, Freda had never taken any time off like this before. And this was not even real regular library hours: this was something she had arranged as a volunteer, for heaven’s sake.
And Joe had understood. He had said that she was very kind to have arranged such a pleasant person to greet him. It wasn’t as if she had abandoned him or anything.
Such a fuss over nothing.
Mark had to be in London for a few days, so Freda felt easy about inviting Lane and Eva to have dinner at Ennio’s. She hoped that they would understand how she felt. It would be all right.
It was a happy evening as Freda, Lane and Eva sat in Ennio’s restaurant eating pasta and catching up.
Eva was organising her next birdwatching trip to the West of Ireland. There was a new hotel opening in a couple of weeks’ time, up on the cliffs above Stoneybridge. Perfect for birdwatchers. Eva was already planning her visit.