Undertaking Love

Chapter Twenty-One




‘Marla, honey?’

Marla’s heart plummeted at the sound of the familiar nasal twang. Why, oh why had she answered the phone? Mondays were her Sundays. They were the only day of the week that could be relied upon to be wedding-free and calm, the only day that she ever took off for herself.

She plopped down into her armchair and resigned herself to a good hour of listening to her mother’s latest forays with men and mayhem stateside. Much as she loved her mother, hearing about her exploits as a sex therapist aging disgracefully in Florida always gave Marla the makings of a headache. At least it wasn’t hard work. Her mother never gave her chance to get a word in edgeways. She reached for her coffee mug and curled her feet up underneath her bum, glad to be on the opposite side of the pond to her mother for the majority of the time. She cursed silently as she wriggled and slopped coffee on her knee, before tuning back in to try to make sense of the tail end of her mother’s monologue.

‘It’ll only be a flying visit for Brynn though, hon, he has to give a speech at a taxidermy conference. He’s flying out again after the weekend, but I thought I’d stay on and spend some time with my little girl. Whaddya reckon?’

Marla’s mind played hectic catch up. Brynn? Who the hell was Brynn? And a taxidermy conference? Jeez, her mother had been with some odd men in her time but this one ranked up there alongside Herman the snake-wrangler.

She was so thrown by Brynn’s profession that it took her a couple of seconds to compute the fact that her mother had mentioned a visit.

Her mother’s uncharacteristic silence lengthened, and Marla cast around for a response that wouldn’t convey her horror.

‘When would this be, again?’ she squeaked.

Please don’t say tomorrow or something ridiculous, Mom, or I may well lie down on the floor and die right now.

She heard her mother’s dramatic sigh on the other end of the line.

‘Marla, are you even listening to me? End of the month. Clear your diary. We can hit Harrods.’

‘Mom, you know I’m miles from London.’

‘Yada yada yada. You can’t be far from anywhere on that tiny godforsaken island. I lived there so I know, remember?’

Marla was glad her mother wasn’t in the room to catch the way her eyes flicked up to the heavens. At least it was a few weeks away. Given her mother’s track record, there was every possibility that Brynn the taxidermist would have exited the scene well before then with an otter under his arm, or whatever the hell he happened to be stuffing at the time.



‘You know what you need, my friend?’

Gabe watched Dan over the rim of his pint glass as he waited for the pearl of wisdom. It was his third beer, and it had him well on the way to being more relaxed than he’d felt in weeks.

‘What’s that then?’

‘To lighten up. You’ve had that same long face on for weeks now.’

‘Undertakers need long faces. It’s part of our job description.’

‘I know that’s a lie, Gabriel, because your dad had the biggest smile in Ireland.’

Gabe couldn’t argue with that one. He took a swig of beer to help loosen the sudden tightening in his throat.

‘Let’s go into town, man.’ Dan shoved his chair back with a pointed glance around the quiet pub. ‘It’s crawling with bars full of birds. You need to touch some flesh that isn’t stone cold.’

Gabe sighed loudly, but drained his glass anyway. This thing with Marla was doing his head in. Maybe some distance from the village and its headaches would be welcome. He craved the boozy forgotten nights, to be twenty-two again and not give a damn about tomorrow, or work, or about the red-headed girl who was driving him slowly crazy with need. Marla was thoroughly infuriating, not to mention someone else’s girlfriend.

Which left him with, to coin one of Dan’s choice phrases, ‘two fifths of f*ck all’ and the guarantee of a headache in the morning. He grabbed his jacket and ducked outside towards the taxi Dan had flagged down.



Gabe looked around the busy town square. It was thronged with brightly lit bars and glossy-haired girls.

‘Where we headed?’

Dan managed to drag his eyes away from an impressive lycra-encased cleavage of a passing girl to glance down at the flyer she had thrust into his hand. He stuffed it into his pocket and clapped Gabe on the back with a grin.

‘I’ve just had a f*ckin’ stormin’ idea, mate.’

Gabe grimaced. He knew that tone of old, and it usually meant Dan was a few hours away from his next walk of shame. He had no time to consider his options though, because Dan yanked him sideways into a black doorway and up some narrow wooden stairs.

Five minutes later, he found himself installed in a red velvet booth with a cold bottle of Budweiser and a half-naked blonde thrusting a G-string clad bottom at him from a nearby pole.

‘A strip joint. Really?’

Dan winked and chinked his bottle against Gabe’s, clearly pleased with himself. ‘So. What’s your poison tonight my friend?’ He inclined his head towards the woman wrapped around the pole. ‘Blonde?’

Gabe took a slug of beer and looked away.

‘Not blonde. Okaaay … how about a classic brunette?’

Gabe followed Dan’s gaze across to the main stage, where men were shoving bank notes of encouragement into the silver thong of an exotic looking girl as she peeled down the straps of her bra. He took it all in, feeling detached and grubby. He’d been in strip joints several times over the years; enough times to know it wasn’t his scene.

‘A nice little redhead, then? You seem to have developed quite a soft spot for them lately.’

Dan slid his sly eyes from Gabe’s with a grin and nodded towards a girl at the bar with wild red curls and barely there black lace underwear.

Gabe drained his bottle and reached behind him for his jacket.

‘I’m gonna shoot through. This isn’t for me tonight, mate.’

Dan pouted and punched him on the shoulder. ‘Lighten up, man. It’s just a bit of fun.’

He winked at the blonde, who licked her lips and held a hand out to him in reply. Dan shrugged his shoulders with a helpless laugh at Gabe.

‘Wait for me, yeah? I’ll be back in five.’

Gabe sighed in resignation as he watched Dan trail off behind the glistening blonde like an excited puppy with a juicy bone. He traded his empty bottle for a full one from a passing waitress and settled in to wait, trying to avoid the parade of girls vying for his attention.

‘Feelin’ lonely, cowboy?’

Gabe glanced up from the depths of his beer to find the redhead from the bar had slid into the booth alongside him. Her riotous red curls sent a vicious kick of longing into his stomach.

Yeah. He was feeling lonely.

She scooted closer and trailed long emerald green nails along his thigh.

‘I can make you feel a whole lot better.’ She batted her false eyelashes and wiggled her cleavage closer to his chest.

He couldn’t help himself.

He looked down.

He had to hand it to her; she jiggled in all the right places. She dipped her head for a second, her hair tumbling over her face, and with the benefit of a few too many beers she might have been Marla. When she threw her head back and grinned, a ridiculous shiver of disappointment ran through him.

The girl was wrong. She couldn’t make him feel better. In fact, with one flick of her red curls she’d managed to make him feel a hundred times worse.

‘I’m not a cowboy,’ he muttered.

‘That’s alright, darlin’. You can be anything you like in here.’

‘I’m an undertaker.’

To her credit, she faltered for only the briefest of nano-seconds before she was right back on her game.

‘Kinky.’ She swung a leg over him and straddled his thighs. ‘Then I’ll be Buffy the Vampire Slayer.’ She flashed her eyes and leaned close to whisper in his ear. ‘Here, or somewhere a little more private?’

Out of the corner of his eye Gabe spied Dan as he sauntered back across the bar. Thank God. ‘I’ll pass, thanks.’

‘Come on, goth boy …’ The girl started gyrating to the music.

‘Get off me. Now.’

She could obviously tell from his tone that he meant business, because she stood up and tipped his drink into his lap.

‘Get a life, weirdo. You’re in a strip joint, remember?’

‘Nice taste, man,’ Dan murmured as he slid into the booth, swivelling his head to check out the redhead’s bum as she strutted away.

‘Did you just put her up to that?’

‘F*ck off. You must have given her the glad eye yourself.’

Gabe brushed the beer from his crotch and Dan’s face creased up with laughter. ‘For f*ck sake, Gabriel, I did you a favour. That girl was smokin’.’

‘I don’t need fixing up.’

Dan shook his head without malice. ‘I hate to say it Gabriel, but from where I’m standing, it kind of looks like you do.’

As they grabbed their jackets, neither of them noticed the floppy-haired guy alone in the corner, phone in hand.