CHAPTER NINE
Her shoes pinched. Why was she wearing those bloody shoes in the first place? Aisling realised they looked wrong about fifteen minutes after she left the house. By then, it was too late to turn back. They were too high, shoes bought for a wedding outfit that had languished in the wardrobe for three years after that one July day when the sun had thwarted the bridal party and stayed firmly behind the clouds.
They’d been too high then, sinking heavily into the grass outside the church. And they were still too high. Aisling did her best to walk quickly along Leeson Street, feeling totally selfconscious in her navy blazer, long cream skirt and cream court shoes.
The people sitting in motionless cars were probably office veterans, no doubt. Seasoned workers who knew what to wear to work and how to do more than switch on a computer.
Could they see pure ignorance written all over her face? And pure fear, come to that?
Streams of people passed her by, walking quickly along the pavement, listening to Walkmans and staring straight ahead as they bypassed slow walkers and parking meters.
From open car windows, she could hear snippets of radio talk shows and the thumping bass of loud music. Aisling sneaked the odd sideways glance into the cars beside her. One attractive woman was peering into her rear-view mirror mascara wand held aloft as she finished her morning makeup.
Another driver was reading, a newspaper spread out on the steering wheel. Others just gazed vacantly out of their windscreens, probably praying for the car ahead to move.
It was all so hectic, Aisling thought in surprise. She hadn’t seen Leeson Street this busy for years, nearly twelve years to be exact.
Since she’d given up work, she was never there during the early morning rush. If she brought the boys into the city centre during the school holidays, she waited until the traffic jams were gone.
Now, in common with all the people walking purposefully towards offices, banks and shops, it was where she worked.
Work. She had a job. Oh God. Those words hadn’t seemed petrifying when she was twenty-two, confident in her ability to deal with any problems in the motor department. Had she really run that place or had she imagined it all? Right now Aisling wasn’t sure her former career hadn’t been a dream. If she’d been as good as Mum and Jo were trying to convince her she was, why the hell was she scared out of her mind at the prospect of starting a much easier job when she was older? I “Dodging the cars, like everyone else did, she crossed Leeson Street and turned right onto Pembroke Street Upper. She was sweating from the hasty walk and panicked that she hadn’t put enough perfume on.
A subtle squirt of Chloe had seemed like the right idea at ten past seven. But after the long walk from Haddington Road where she’d decided to leave the car, she was hot and sticky, and wished she’d splashed on more perfume.
She hadn’t wanted to overdo it. She wanted to appear like a working woman, someone who left the house at seven-fifty every morning like clockwork, with the kids fed, the kitchen tidy and a casserole defrosting for the evening. Not like a terrified ex-housewife overdoing it with gallons of perfume, high heels and an outfit which looked perfect in Quinnsworth and totally wrong behind a desk. Now she wished she’d had the presence of mind to put some deodorant in her bag.
Number seventeen. There it was, a rich dark green door with brass fittings and a gleaming brass plate beside it proclaiming that this was the office of Richardson, Reid and Finucane, Solicitors. A magnificent Georgian house in a line of magnificent houses, like something out of Homes and Gardens.
What she wouldn’t give to be sitting at home right now, with a copy of
the magazine spread on the kitchen table as she contemplated another spurt of decorating. Anything, even stripping the wallpaper off the back bedroom, would be preferable to this sheer terror. Calm down, Aisling, she told herself. It’s your first day, nobody is going to expect too much from you. Hopefully.
She walked carefully up the pristine stone steps and admired the two elegant bay trees in wooden tubs on either side of the door. To the right was an intercom and she pushed it slowly.
“Good morning,” said a clear voice.
“Can I help you?”
“Aisling Moran to see Ms Hogan,” Aisling answered, more calmly than she felt.
The voice said nothing, but a buzzing sound emanated from the side of the door. Feeling like a truant about to face the head nun, Aisling pushed and found herself in a formal, pale green lobby where a redheaded girl sat behind a low desk.
“Hello,” smiled the girl.
“Go up the stairs to the first landing and take the first door on your left.”
She could have been speaking in Swahili. With a fixed grin on her face, Aisling moved mechanically up the stairs, her brain trying to figure out the words ‘first door on your left’.
Left, which was left? Was this it? She tentatively pushed open a green panelled door and walked into an airy, highceilinged room.
A petite woman in a grey skirt suit with a sweep of ash blonde hair to her shoulders stood before Aisling, a china cup and saucer in one hand and a beige folder in the other.
Beautifully made-up grey eyes stared at Aisling for a moment before the woman smiled glacially.
“I’m Aisling Moran,” said Aisling nervously. This blonde vision looked at her as if she had just walked dog mess into the carpet.
“I know,” said the blonde coolly.
“I’m Vivienne Hogan, personal assistant to Mr. Richardson and the personnel director.
“Welcome to Richardson, Reid and Finucane.”
Her expression was about as welcoming as a blizzard, but Aisling smiled back anyway.
“I’m afraid something’s come up and I won’t be able to bring you around the office and introduce you. Caroline Dennis will look after you. She’ll be here in a moment Vivienne said, walking gracefully to the door.
“Sit down and make yourself comfortable.” She gestured towards a grey office chair.
Thanks.”
The door shut silently. Aisling felt as if she could breathe again. Was she imagining it or -had the other woman really been cold? And if so, what in the hell had she done to deserve such a frosty welcome? She tried to remember what she’d been like to newcomers to the motor department. Had she ever looked at them the way Vivienne had at her? God, she hoped not.
She sank into the chair and tried to take a few deep breaths.
It didn’t help. Focus on the room, Aisling. Relax.
The room looked like the drawing room it probably had been. It was papered with subtle embossed cream paper. A gilt-framed oil painting of a weary-looking horse hung on one wall.
Under normal circumstances, she’d have been fascinated by the ceiling mouldings which had vine leaves beautifully picked out in gold paint. Today she was too preoccupied to do much more than notice them.
As offices go, she thought, it was very nice.
Several metal filing cabinets filled one wall and there were two desks positioned opposite each other, both with computer keyboards and VDUs. A wire basket and a large pile of beige folders covered one desk, along with a very healthy plant and a large silver frame with a photo of a smiling little girl in a school uniform.
A tiny brown Koala bear clung to a pen in the red plastic pen holder and a rainbow-coloured mug proclaiming “World’s Greatest Mum’ sat beside what looked like a very high-tech phone.
By contrast, the other desk was like something from an office manual,
‘the perfect desk’. Not one stray piece of paper spoiled the highly polished wood. White metal baskets were half empty and only a pen and a yellow Post-It pad beside the phone gave the impression that anyone had been using the desk at all. Obviously Ms Snotty Hogan’s desk, Aisling decided bitchily.
A coffee percolator bubbled away in one corner of the room and the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee made her long for a cup. Should she help herself, Aisling wondered?
Why not? She was an employee after all, even if not a very welcomed one.
She chose a bright red mug and was just starting to pour when the door opened again. Jumping guiltily, Aisling nearly spilled the coffee onto the pale carpet.
“Did I give you a fright?” inquired the intruder, a plump woman with a cluster of dark curls and a voluminous, bright floral dress.
“Sorry. Viv told me you were here and asked me to show you around. I’m Caroline, Pat’s secretary.” She proffered a hand and Aisling shook it, grateful to meet at least one person who seemed pleased to see her.
“I’m Aisling and I hope it’s OK to get some coffee but it just smelled so nice …”
“Oh, Viv should have offered you one but she’d madly busy this morning and obviously forgot. Your office is on the next floor but you’ll have to come down here for coffee anyhow because Elizabeth’s percolator has gone kaput.”
Caroline dropped a bulging brown handbag onto the chair beside the perfect desk and slung a white cotton cardigan over the armrests. Aisling was amazed. In her long, flowing dress and hippie-ish bead necklace, Caroline looked as if she’d be more at home behind the other desk.
So where did Vivienne sit? Not at the messy desk, that was for sure. And why was poor Caroline making excuses for Viv’s rudeness? Aisling doubted that “Viv would have offered’ her a cup of coffee. Unless Aisling’s throat was on fire, she reckoned.
“Elizabeth isn’t going to be in today, she’s feeling a bit under the weather.” Caroline poured herself a mug of coffee and stirred in three sugars. Opening a square tin of assorted biscuits, she selected two chocolate biscuits and a pink wafer one.
“Want one?” she offered before taking a large bite of chocolate-covered digestive.
“No thanks answered Aisling, who hadn’t even managed to finish her Special K. “You’ll love Elizabeth’s office mumbled Caroline with her mouth full of biscuit.
“Well, your office!” It’s quite the nicest of all the assistants’ ones. Of course, it’s a bit isolated up there at the top she added. She took her coffee and led Aisling out onto the landing and up the stairs.
“But the view is wonderful!
You’re above Leo’s office, Leo Murphy, that is. He’s your boss.
He’s in court this morning according to Elizabeth, but he’ll be back at one.”
Caroline stopped talking, breathless after the first flight of stairs. They climbed another two flights, past panelled green doors and sedately framed prints of Georgian Dublin in feathery ink and watercolours.
This Caroline opened a door and showed Aisling another bright highceilinged room, ‘is Leo’s office.”
“Very nice said Aisling.
“You want to see Mr. Richardson’s office Caroline continued.
“It’s beautiful. He collects antiques, you know. His office is like Sotheby’s and his house is the same. Although I expect you know
“Er, yes answered Aisling, although she didn’t.
Why would she know that Edward Richardson collected antiques? She’d only met him a few times at Fiona’s house and even then they’d talked about Fiona more than anything else. And about Nicole, of course, the apple of her grandfather’s eye.
Obviously Caroline thought she was on intimate terms with Pat Finucane and, therefore, with his father-in-law. She followed Caroline up another flight of stairs to a small landing at the top of the
building. “I know it’s small said Caroline, ushering Aisling into a tiny office dominated by a large window, ‘but just look at the view.”
Aisling looked, and was impressed. Five huge filing cabinets took up a lot of the office space and there wasn’t enough room to swing a cat, but the spectacular view the window afforded over Dublin’s rooftops more than made up for the lack of space.
“It’s wonderful,” breathed Aisling, squeezing between the desk and the cabinets to look out the window.
“I knew you’d like it,” smiled Caroline smugly, as though she’d designed the entire place herself.
“You may as well make yourself at home since Elizabeth isn’t going to be in today. I’ll get her calls transferred to my phone until you’ve got the hang of everything. You could start doing some typing, though, couldn’t you? I’ll give you some letters to look at so you can see the format.”
Aisling felt herself blanch. How the hell was she going to be able to type letters when she didn’t know how to use the computer?
She gazed at the complicated-looking keyboard and knew she’d have to confess. Sort of.
“I don’t know how to use this type of computer,” she said nervously.
“Oh,” said Caroline in surprise.
“This is an Apple Performa, it’s a doddle, really. What have you worked on before?”
Aisling racked her brains for the name of the computer system the motor department had been buying before she’d left.
ICBM. That was it.
“An ICBM,” she lied confidently.
“No, an IBM. Sorry.” Moron, she told herself. You’ve just said you can use an inter-continental ballistic missile.
“I’d really prefer to be thoroughly acquainted with this.” system before I start typing,” she added quickly, hoping Caroline hadn’t noticed her gaffe.
“Perhaps I can do something else until Elizabeth can brief me properly.” That sounded great, she thought. Very professional.
Caroline’s eyebrows were furrowed as she considered this. “You could do some filing she ventured.
“I know Elizabeth has been letting the filing slide a little because she hates going up and down the stairs all the time. There’s a file room downstairs, two cabinets in Leo’s office and the ones here. It’s quite a trip up and down those stairs.”
“Of course I’ll file Aisling said, relieved.
“Just show me where to start.”
She was leaning over a cabinet in the file room looking for Ms Sandra Burke’s file when Vivienne walked in at a quarter past one.
“You’re not at lunch?”
Aisling looked flustered.
“I didn’t know when lunch was she said. There’s so much filing to do, I just thought I’d keep working.”
“You’ll be working through lunch often enough without starting on your first day Vivienne commented.
“Caroline was supposed to bring you to the canteen but she obviously forgot, I’m sorry.”
Amazing, thought Aisling, Ms Ice Queen is actually apologising for something. She was even more amazed when Vivienne told her to take a break and get a cup of coffee from the percolator in her office.
“Leave this until after lunch she added. The canteen is in the basement, although it’s not precisely a canteen, more a badly equipped kitchen. There’s a kettle, a fridge and a microwave in case you want to have something hot. Go down the corridor and take the second left,
OK?”
“Fine.” said Aisling.
“I’m going to Baggot Street. Do you want anything from the shops?”
“No thanks, really. I’ll just get a cup of coffee and I’ve brought a sandwich.”
“Well, get some proper coffee from my office, won’t you,” Vivienne added. And I’ll see you later this afternoon to see how you’re getting on.” She smiled briefly, then opened a filing cabinet near the door,
selected a file and left as quietly as she’d come in. Marginally cheered up, Aisling left the file room and thought briefly about going down to the canteen for lunch.
If Caroline had accompanied her, she would have been delighted to meet the rest of the staff. But she just didn’t feel up to marching in on her own, explaining who she was and what she was doing here to a bunch of curious strangers.
Instead, she knocked gently on Vivienne and Caroline’s office door and, when nobody answered, went in for some coffee.
She took a biscuit as well and looked at the desks with renewed interest. So Vivienne was the World’s Greatest Mum, she thought. Presumably, she wasn’t such a tough career woman at home. Maybe they’d just got off on the wrong foot.
Some people were naturally prickly and needed time to get comfortable with others, she decided charitably.
At her desk, she ate her tuna fish sandwich hungrily and drank a Diet Coke. She’d found a recent copy of Style in one of Elizabeth’s wire baskets and she flicked through the pages, only half concentrating on an article about summer camps as she wondered how the boys were getting on at theirs.
She hadn’t planned on sending them to the day camp for the whole summer, but she’d no option now that she was working. Thank God that Fiona had offered to pick them up at three the first week.
“Only until I get sorted out,” Aisling said firmly when Fiona offered to help.
“You can’t spend your whole summer minding them.”
Brave words. She was finding it hard enough to cope with her first day at work without feeling like an idiot.
She’d just taken another bite of her sandwich when her door opened suddenly and a very tall and very dark man walked in. He was heavily built, with the sort of tan which spoke of lots of outdoor pursuits. He had a shock of jet black hair and a suit to match.
“Aisling, isn’t it?” he said in a deep voice.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Hello.”
“I’m Leo Murphy.”
He advanced with one large hand held out and leaned over the desk. The way his eyes roamed over her made Aisling feel uneasy.
She didn’t know whether it was his intense gaze or the way he was smiling like an alligator who had spotted his lunch, but she felt, well uncomfortable.
Since he was still holding out his hand, she reached out her left hand, the one without tuna stuck to it, and awkwardly shook hands. He held her fingers for much longer than was necessary and, when he released it, he smiled, a very self satisfied
“Aisling, I’m delighted you’re going to be with me when Liz is away.”
Nobody else had called the other woman Liz, but Aisling instinctively knew that Leo Murphy would enjoy shortening his secretary’s name, turning the elegant Elizabeth into the snappy Liz. “Liz, bring your notebook in here now.” She could just imagine him saying it. She hoped he wouldn’t start calling her Ash, only her closest friends and family called her that.
“I hope you’ve been made to feel at home.” He pushed aside a pile of files and sat on the side of her desk, his big body I dwarfing Aisling as he leaned over her.
Tuna, mmm. Health-conscious, are we?” he didn’t wait for her to reply.
“I’m pretty health-conscious myself. Rugby, you I know.” He patted his bulky chest proudly.
“A man’s got to work out, don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely.” she answered.
“I can see we’re going to get on very well,” he continued!
“Come on down to my office when you’ve finished lunch. I’ll go over what I want from you.”
“Yes, Mr. Murphy.”
He slid off the desk and headed for the door.
“And Aisling,” he turned to give her the benefit of another feral
“It’s Leo, not Mr. Murphy. We don’t stand on ceremony here.”
She rinsed her hands in the tiny bathroom on the third floor and
knocked on Leo’s door. “Come in, Aisling. Have a seat.”
He sat behind the desk and stared at her. God, there was something about him she didn’t like. She didn’t know what it was, but there was definitely something odd about him.
“You haven’t worked for some time, I believe. Pat’s been very good to take you on, I’m sure you appreciate that.”
Aisling felt sick. The way he made it sound, Pat had given her the job for services rendered, the sort of services you wore a French maid’s outfit and stockings for.
“Of course, I understand that you’re going through a rough time,” Leo
“It can’t be easy. We’ll make this as pleasurable as possible, of course. We run a tight ship here and I need to know you’re behind me one hundred per cent. Liz will fill you in on the day-to-day details of the job.”
He paused and Aisling wondered if she was supposed to say
“That’s great, Mr…. er, Leo,” she said.
“I want to work. I know I’m a bit rusty but I’m a hard worker. Elizabeth will be here for the next two weeks, won’t she?”
“Yes. But when she’s gone, don’t hesitate to ask me anything.
Anything,” he repeated in a syrupy voice. That’s all for now.”
He picked up his phone and started dialling a number.
Aisling got up to leave, anxious to get back to the solitude of her little office.
“Can you get me the Law Directory?” he asked suddenly.
“It’s on top of the cabinet over there.”
He held the phone to his ear but his eyes were on her
She turned around and was suddenly struck by the thought that her cream skirt really needed a slip underneath it. Was he watching her, eyes taking in her VPL, she thought, horrified.
She blushed furiously.
Thanks.” He took the book and she left the room rapidly.
Outside, she took a long, deep breath and wondered what was wrong with her. He hadn’t said anything awful, had he? So why was she so spooked?
When Caroline popped her head around the door at five to two, Aisling was delighted to see her.
“Sorry I didn’t get to see you for lunch. I had to race up to Grafton Street to look for a present for my husband. It’s his birthday on Wednesday and they have shirts in Arnott’s that he’d love. Did you find the canteen?”
“Vivienne told me where it was,” answered Aisling, ‘but I had a sandwich here. I didn’t know anyone and I thought I’d wait until I met everyone, you know,” she finished lamely.
“That’s awful!” declared Caroline.
“I’ll kill the girls for not coming and getting you. We’ve got two juniors who are so scatty that they’d forget their heads if they weren’t screwed , on. And I bet you never had any coffee, either, did you?” “Yes, I did. Vivienne told me to get some from your office,” Aisling said. “Come on down and get another one now and I’ll send the motorbike courier off with your percolator this minute. Leo will go mad if he doesn’t get his coffee in the morning, you know!”
She laughed at this and Aisling decided not to ask about Leo’s decidedly odd behaviour. She could have picked him up the wrong way. It was only her first day after all. No doubt things would look different the next day with Elizabeth to guide her through the maze of office politics.
“I don’t want mash. I want chips!” declared Paul crossly. pushing his plate away from him. “You can’t have chips,” snapped Aisling.
“You’re not leaving this table without eating your dinner, mash and all.”
She scraped the last bit of mashed potato out of the saucepan onto her plate and dumped the saucepan noisily in the sink. Granted, the dinner wasn’t one of her better efforts.
But mashed potato, fish fingers and beans were all she’d felt up to cooking after her first day at work.
They should have been eating a delicious lasagne she’d made on Saturday. But she’d forgotten to time the oven to cook the damn thing.
Phillip said nothing. He stuck his fork in the small hillock of mash he’d made in the centre of his plate and slowly mixed the beans into it until he’d made a pale orange mess. Since the boys had come over from Fiona’s at half six, just ten minutes after Aisling had got home, Phillip had been stonily silent.
Feeling guilty at being away all day and for snapping at Paul, Aisling tried again.
“Please eat your dinner, boys,” she begged. There’s ice cream for dessert and we can go to the video shop afterwards for a treat, all right?”
“Do I have to eat this, Mum?” wailed Paul.
“I’m not hungry.”
Count to ten, Aisling. She tried the honest approach.
“Paul, I’m very tired because I’ve been working all day. I’m sorry that dinner isn’t very nice but it’s the best I can do.
Please eat it.”
For once, it worked. Taken aback by such candour, Paul stuck his fork into a fish finger and ate a bit. And another bit.
Seeing his twin eating, Phillip stopped making fork tracks across his mash and actually ate some.
Thank you God, Aisling said silently. She didn’t care what she’d promised the previous night, she just had to have a drink tonight.
Back from the video shop, she left the boys watching Flipper for the millionth time and went upstairs to have a bath.
She stripped off her work clothes with relief and put on the peach-coloured satin dressing-gown she’d treated herself to the Christmas before. Soft and silky to the touch, it had always made her feel faintly glamorous. But not tonight. Only a two-week stay in a health farm and four hours under a beautician’s expert care would make her feel anything other than a harassed working mother with smudged mascara, aching feet and limp hair from her hurried walk to the car after work.
Aisling added a liberal dose of Body Shop Neroli essential oil to the steaming, foamy bath. Five drops were enough to relax you, the instructions said. Five wouldn’t have a chance, she thought, counting
out ten. With a glass of icy white wine the last bottle from Michael’s precious wine rack by her side, she lay back into the bubbles and let the day wash away from her.
The sensation of warm water gently taking the aches and pains away was pure bliss. She took a big sip of wine and wriggled her toes with relief. High-heeled shoes were definitely the wrong thing for work.
What she needed was a pair of low-heeled ones like Vivienne had worn. She had a black pair which would fit the bill perfectly, even if they were a bit old. They’d look fine if she polished them up. There just wasn’t enough money in the kitty for a new pair.
As the water cooled, she reached up with her left foot and twisted the hot tap on again. Heaven.
For the first time since Michael had left her, she wasn’t thinking about him or crying over him. Worrying about how she was going to cope when Elizabeth was on maternity leave, not to mention dreading working for the distinctly seedy Leo Murphy, was occupying too much of her mind to think about her absent husband. He’d got her into this mess, she thought venomously, but she had to get herself out of it. And she would, damn him.
“Fine, it was fine,” she said airily, when Fiona rang full of inquiries about her first day at Richardson, Reid and Finucane.
After all Pat had done about getting her the job, Aisling couldn’t very well say she felt like she’d just run a marathon and was dreading the next day, could she?
Tat was in court all day or he’d have been in to see how you were getting on,” Fiona explained.
“But he said Vivienne and Caroline were going to explain everything to you. How did you get on with them? Caroline’s very nice but Vivienne always sounds like a bit of a workaholic to me.”
“Caroline’s lovely,” Aisling was able to say truthfully.
“I
didn’t see much of Vivienne, really. Elizabeth, the girl I’m replacing, was out so I did the filing all day. It was simple enough, but pretty tiring. You see, I didn’t want to admit that I couldn’t use
the word processor so that’s why I volunteered to file. And I met Leo Murphy. He’s a bit different she ventured.
“Yeah, Pat says he’s an acquired taste Fiona answered.
“He’s only been there a year or so, but he’s great at conveyancing apparently. I’ve never met him. What’s he look like?”
Picture Jack Nicholson in The Shining, Aisling thought.
“Very dark haired and well built was what she said.
“He prides himself on being muscular she couldn’t resist throwing that in.
“He plays rugby and believes men should work out “Gosh, you sound very well acquainted already!” chuckled Fiona.
“Is he a bit of a hunk?”
“Not really, no.” If only she knew.
“Do you think you’ll enjoy working there?” Fiona asked seriously.
“I was on edge all day wondering how you were getting on You and me both, Aisling said to herself.
“I really want it to work out for you Fiona added.
“Oh Fee, it’s wonderful Aisling said warmly. She had to lie so she hoped she was doing it convincingly.
“It was a bit tough at first, but the girls are so nice, I know it’ll work out fine That’s great said Fiona in relieved tones.
“You need something to keep your mind off Michael. I was so worried about you last week, you know.”
“I do feel a lot better now Aisling admitted.
“Maybe it’s just coping with all the practical things, feeding the boys, paying the bills, that kind of thing. I haven’t let myself descend into total misery. And work will certainly help she said with a laugh.
“I didn’t have much time to think about Michael today!
Which is all thanks to you and Pat for getting me this job.
You’ve both been wonderful “What are friends for?” demanded Fiona.
“Not all friends are as good as you Aisling pointed out.
“I’ve had a few calls from friends of ours and they just don’t know ‘ what to say. Poor Angela Dunn just stuttered and stammered?; and finally said she’d ring me in a few months, like I was going into mourning! Nobody from Michael’s office has rung, although I suppose it
must be awkward for them. “She didn’t say that this had hurt her deeply. All she’d wanted was a friendly voice on the phone, telling her that even though she and Michael weren’t together, the friends they had known for the past ten years were still there.
Breakups certainly made you realise the value of true friends, like Fiona and Jo.
“Mum has been great,” Aisling added.
“She arrived on Tuesday with a freezer full of pies and stews for us. I said Michael had left, he hadn’t died! Luckily, she saw the funny side of it.”
“Ash! You’re dreadful!” laughed Fiona.
“What must your poor mother have thought? You’re dreadful for joking about serious things. Anyway, your mum’s generation aren’t used to the idea of people splitting up and the poor woman must be in shock.”
“Oh, Mum knows my sense of humour by now. I think living with dad has knocked her own sense of humour out of her, though. He wouldn’t recognise a joke if it bit him on the bum. Mum put him on the phone the other night and it was like talking to the sideboard. He was on the verge of doing his “I’d hoped for more from you, Aisling” routine but he stopped. I think Mum must have grabbed the phone off him.”
“Don’t mind him,” Fiona said indignantly.
“You’ve done so well with your life. What did he want, Einstein for a daughter?”
“Someone smarter than Einstein, I think Aisling said drily.
“Luckily Sorcha’s achievements have made up for the shame of me being a mere housewife. I swear that his chest swells when he tells people she’s working in a bank in London. Mind you she added, ‘if Sorcha lived here, he wouldn’t be so delighted with her because they fight like cats and dogs.
Distance is a wonderful thing.”
“Has she heard?” Fiona inquired.
“She rang on Saturday and told me I was a fool to have! stayed at home cleaning the toilet. She has a great way with!
“words, that one. I did point out that there was more to my life than
sticking my head under the rim to see what germs were lurking, but I stopped myself. It was easier to say nothing.”
“Wait until she has a family and a home,” said Fiona sounding vexed.
“She’ll find out it isn’t so easy to be mother and chief bottle-washer after all.”
“Sorcha isn’t going to have any children, my dear,” pointed out
“She wants to have her tubes tied.”
“Around her neck, I hope,” muttered the other woman.
“She has that effect on me too, Fee. She completely ruined my ideas of what a little sister was supposed to be like. Thank God Nicola came along or I’d have always thought that little sisters were like some sort of biblical curse. You know, “And the Lord said, a little sister will be born, to ravage your bedroom, destroy your toys and keep you in eternal trouble until you leave home.” “Was she really that bad?”
“Worse. And talking of kids, thanks for picking up the boys this afternoon, although Phillip has been like a briar since he came home.”
“He was a bit moody,” Fiona agreed.
“I thought he’d cheer up when he saw you “No chance!” said Aisling.
“I think I’ve just crossed the line from Good Stay at Home Mummy to Bad Working Mummy.
You should have seen the look on his face when he got beans, mash and fish fingers for dinner!”
“You’ve ruined all three of them with your gourmet cooking,” started Fiona, stopping abruptly when she realised what she’d said.
“Sorry.”
“You’re right,” Aisling replied matterof-factly.
“I did spoil them, Michael particularly. Homemade bread for breakfast, smoked salmon pate at the weekends because he loved it, chicken en croute or fresh pasta for his dinner and he never had to so much as wash up a cup or throw a towel in the laundry basket. I wonder is he allowed to get away with that type of behaviour with her! I don’t think career women have much time for very old-fashioned men,”
she added sarcastically. Lying on her own in their big double bed later, she thought about what Fiona had said. She was right. Aisling had totally spoiled the three men in her life. She’d become obsessed with being the best housewife possible.
The house could have won prizes for cleanliness, her interior decoration was the same. She’d prided herself on her cooking, as though being a wizard with a food processor made up for her lack of abilities outside the home. And somewhere along the way, Aisling Moran had disappeared. That’s what Michael had said. Had he been right?
He’d married her because he loved her, her vitality and her sense of humour. When she’d slowly lost her self-assurance, her belief in herself, she’d panicked. And thought that becoming the perfect homemaker was the answer. Only it hadn’t been.
Michael had wanted Aisling, the woman he married. But she’d turned into Super Housewife, handy in the kitchen, but out of water anywhere else. Would a job have changed all that, she asked herself? A day in Richardson, Reid and Finucane had certainly given her lots to talk about.
She’d have enjoyed telling Michael about the different characters in the office and with his support behind her she probably wouldn’t have been so uncomfortable in Leo Murphy’s presence. But if Michael had still been with her, Leo would never have been so lecherous, she was sure of that.
Being separated suddenly made her fair game for the likes of Leo. How the hell was she going to face him on her own?
Aisling sat up in bed and switched on her bedside light. It was ten past twelve, she had to be up in six and three-quarter hours and she didn’t feel even vaguely like sleeping.
She plumped up her two pale yellow pillows behind her, then suddenly reached over and grabbed Michael’s. For the past week, she’d made the bed every morning as if he was coming home that night, arranged his pillows just the way he liked them. She still slept on her side of the bed.
Why the hell was she doing that, she asked herself crossly?
He wasn’t coming back. In fact, even if he wanted to, he wasn’t coming back. So there! He could stuff his pillows! She laughed at her own joke. Now, what to read? Something fluffy and romantic or something wonderfully scary?
Leaning down to her bedside table, Aisling found the book she wanted. It was funny how she’d got out of the habit of reading when she couldn’t sleep at night, she thought.
Michael always slept soundly and solidly, seven or eight hours no matter what. She’d never been so lucky but had rarely turned on her light to read at night in case it woke him. Not any more. She could read until dawn, steal all the duvet and all the pillows, and paint the entire bedroom whorehouse pink if she felt like it! So what if it was after twelve, she’d go to bed early tomorrow night. Satisfied with herself, Aisling settled back against her comfortable back rest. Perfect.
Tuesday was a good day. Elizabeth turned out to be a funny and warm woman in her early thirties who was delighted to be pregnant after four years of trying for a baby. Under her relaxed and expert tutelage, Aisling quickly learned how to use the word processor once she’d admitted that she had never used one before.
“I can’t believe it’s so easy Aisling exclaimed, after she’d managed to open files, save documents, print letters and keep file copies on floppy disks.
Technology is the Emperor’s New Clothes of the nineties,” said Elizabeth.
“Everyone’s so scared of it that lots of people are terrified to touch a keyboard and the people who are good with computers try and lord it over everyone who isn’t. Look how easily you’ve picked it up.”
“As long as I can do it when you’re gone,” Aisling answered.
“I’m not going far laughed Elizabeth, patting her enormous bump.
“I’ll probably spend the next few weeks stretched out on the couch at home watching reruns of Knots Landing, so just pick up the phone if you’ve got a problem.”
Thanks. It’s great to know that Aisling replied.
“I just hope I can handle Leo as easily she added guardedly. She was
desperate to know what Elizabeth thought of her boss, but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. Perhaps Leo and Elizabeth got on like a house on fire. It might be a terrible blunder to ask if he made her feel as uncomfortable as he made Aisling.
“Oh, don’t mind Leo,” the other woman said dismissively.
“His bark is much worse than his bite. He’s moodier than any premenstrual woman I’ve ever known! Just ignore his moods.
As long as you keep the office running efficiently and don’t overbook him, he’s a lamb, really.”
A lamb, huh? More like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Aisling reckoned. However, he’d been pretty harmless all day, acting the part of the busy boss. Aisling wished he’d always be like that. Unfortunately, she suspected that Elizabeth’s presence had a lot to do with it. Who knew what he’d be like when she was gone and he could stare insolently at Aisling again?
Pat Finucane dropped into her office at lunchtime and apologised for not welcoming her in” person the day before.
“How are you getting on?” he asked kindly.
“Brilliant,” said Elizabeth.
“She’ll be running the whole place in a month. I just hope there’s a job for me when I’m finished my maternity leave!”
Buoyed by Elizabeth’s confidence in her, and by her improved relationship with Vivienne, Aisling left for home a much happier woman than she’d been the day before.
Her good mood wasn’t to last.
“Hi, Aisling.” Michael’s cold and distant voice on the phone hit her like a punch in the stomach.
“How are the boys?”
“Fine,” she replied, just as tersely.
“Now that I’m settled, I’d like to see them at the weekends.
They can stay with me on Saturday and go home on Sunday evening, what do you think?”
She didn’t know what to say. They were talking like a divorced couple already.
“I suppose that’s all right,” she answered grudgingly.
“Where will they be staying? “He hesitated for a moment. Could he be trying not to hurt her, she wondered?
“I’m living with Jennifer.”
God, it was like an ice pick in her guts. How could she have thought she was all right, she wondered blankly. Don’t cry, don’t let him see how upset you are.
“Where is that?” she asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant voice.
“Sandymount. It’s just off Sandymount village.”
“How nice,” she replied. They were like two strangers talking, discussing property. They’d be talking about auctioneers’ fees and stamp duty next.
“I don’t want the boys to think that they don’t have a father any more,” Michael said, suddenly intense.
“I want them to have two homes. That’s so important.”
“It might be a bit of a shock to them to find you’re living with someone else, Michael,” she interrupted caustically.
“This has all been rather sudden.”
“I know, I know he said worriedly. From the tone of his voice, she knew exactly what he was doing, running his fingers through his dark hair until it stood up in glossy peaks. She’d always smoothed it down, well, she used to smooth it down, a long, long time ago.
Neither of them spoke for a moment. The silence was almost worse than the stilted conversation.
“We have to talk about money,” she said finally.
“I hear you’ve got a job,” he put in.
“How did you know?”
“I rang Pat to find out how you were. I knew Fiona would have been talking to you.”
“Oh, give me a break, Michael,” she said angrily.
“If you wanted to know how I was, why couldn’t you ring me. I was wondering why you were so silent, couldn’t face talking to me, was that it?”
He sighed tiredly.
“I didn’t ring up to fight, Aisling.”
“We’re not fighting, Michael,” she snapped.
“I just want you to be up front with me. I’m not going to fall on my knees every time you ring and beg you to come back, ok. I’ve got over the begging wife stage.”
Damn him! He made her so angry. Why was he still playing games, weren’t they over that?
“Don’t be afraid to ring me, Michael. I want to talk about money, about the house, about all the practical things. And I want to know where you are so that if there’s a problem with the boys, I can reach
That’s fair enough,” he answered.
“I’m sorry, I should have rung. I don’t know what to say to the boys.”
She was amazed. What an admission from Mr. Know It All!
At least she’d faced up to the realities of the situation and told the boys what was happening. He was scared to. Suddenly, Aisling felt a lot better. She was the strong one, she was the one who’d taken it on the chin. She was fighting back!
What a nice feeling that was.
“You could try the truth,” she said smartly.
“You think so?”
“Well, they’re ten years old, Michael, not ten months. I think they’re going to put two and two together if they spend the night with you and her.” Aisling couldn’t bear to say “Jennifer”.
“You’re right.”
Wow, it was a long time since she’d heard that. A slight smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
“Pick them up at one on Saturday,” she said decisively.
They’ll just be back from soccer and they’ll be ravenous. You could always bring them to McDonald’s, give them lunch and then tell them.”
This was hilarious. She was advising him on the best way to tell the boys that he now lived with another woman. Ironic wasn’t the word for it.
“That’s a great idea, Aisling,” he said sounding grateful.
Thank you for making this easier.”
“I’m only doing this because I’m up for the Nobel Peace Prize,” she answered sarcastically.
“And because I want to protect the twins as much as possible. It won’t
do them any good to have us screaming at each other.” .
“You’re great,” Michael said. Thanks. I’ll see you on Saturday, then?”
He hung up and Aisling did the same with relief. At least they’d talked. They had actually conversed like two adults.
That had to be good, surely? She’d been dreading hearing from Michael and yearning for it in equal amounts. One part of her wanted to scream abuse at him, the other wanted him to come back, to hear him beg forgiveness and tell her he adored her still.
But there was no point harbouring secret hopes of a reunion when it was obvious Michael wanted her back like he wanted a hole in the head. This way, she was forced to meet reality face on.
“Mum, can we go out to play with Greg?” demanded Phillip, appearing in the kitchen with a football in his hands.
“All right, but stay in his garden if you’re playing football.
Don’t play on the road, OK?”
“Yeah.”
Phillip was gone in a flash.
“Be back by eight Aisling shouted after him.
The front door slammed loudly. It was nearly seven, time for Emmerdale. The dinner dishes were still on the kitchen table but she didn’t feel like tidying up. She quickly put the milk, butter and the cheese back in the fridge and left everything else. Time enough to do it later. Two weeks ago she wouldn’t have been able to leave the mess without tidying up.
Every dish would have been washed, dried and put away in fifteen minutes and she’d have then swept the kitchen floor and hoovered up the crumbs.
Not any more, she thought. There were no prizes for faultless housekeeping in the real world.
By Thursday evening, she was exhausted. Too exhausted to join Fiona at aerobics.
“Come on, you’ll love it!” wheedled Fiona on the phone.
“Nicole’s got her friends in and if you send the boys over, Pat will
look after them all. You can do the beginners’ class.” “Oh, Fee, I really don’t feel up to prancing around in my awful old leggings and spare tyre. It’s so long since I did anything like that, I’d be hopeless,” Aisling answered.
“I’d really prefer it if you lent me one of your library of exercise tapes. I can start at home and that way I won’t feel so flabby and unfit when I finally go with you.”
“OK. But you’re definitely coming with me next week, aren’t you?”
Aisling laughed.
“You never give up, do you? Let me get semi-fit before I go to the gym, Fee. I don’t know if my selfconfidence could face jumping up and down like an elephant in the middle of a group of Cindy Crawford lookalikes.”
There won’t be anyone like that in the beginners’ class,” Fiona pointed out.
“The Cindy Crawford types all go to the advanced step class and make me feel like a heifer.”
“I’m never going near that place if there are women who can make you look fat!” Aisling was horrified at the thought. I’ll come over and pick up Mr. Motivator or Jane Fonda now and go for the burn later.”
“Nobody “goes for the burn” any more,” Fiona rebuked her.
“Even Jane admits she was wrong about the “no pain, no gain” motto. Anyway, she’s had plastic surgery so I’ve lost my faith in her. She’s too old-fashioned and I hate Mr. Motivator. I’ve got a couple of step videos that are easier when you don’t have a step; you could try them. You should also try Callanetics.
It’s not fat-burning but it’s great for streamlining your shape.”
That sounds painful,” said Aisling.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not a bit,” Fiona answered cheerfully.
Callan Pinckney’s soothing American voice was telling Aisling how to stand with feet hip-distance apart, with one hand on her hip and the other reaching upwards. Painfully upwards. The video had only been on five minutes and Aisling already felt tired.
She didn’t think she could reach a little bit more than she thought she
could, as Callan kept saying encouragingly to a class of very flexible-looking people.
Her arm was going to wrench itself out of her shoulder if she reached over any further. Thank God. She’d done it.
“Do one hundred Callan said crushingly.
“One hundred!” shrieked Aisling out loud, already wondering if she had ruptured something vital. You must be mad. But Callan wasn’t listening. She was leaning over like a gymnast, gently moving her body back and forth, seemingly without excruciating pain.
I’ll be in agony tomorrow, Aisling muttered to herself as she leaned, watching the counter on the screen clock up every little movement. She had to give up at 54 but Callan and her class stuck it out to 100.
Masochists. Then it was time for the other side.