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Woman to Woman

By: Cathy Kelly   

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

 

“I’m glad you decided to come in, Aisling.” Vivienne said, handing her a mug of very strong-looking coffee.

 

“You’d have regretted it if you didn’t. Edward really wants to get this sorted out properly. Harassment is not something he takes lightly.”

 

Aisling sat down nervously and looked around Vivienne’s office as if she’d never seen it before in her life. She remembered her first day at work when she’d sat in this same chair and quivered with terror. Would she be able to work the computer or how would she deal with working in an office after years away from one? It had never entered her mind that the actual job itself would be the least of her problems. That her boss would make her life hell.

 

How could she explain to someone as confident as Vivienne what it felt like to tremble when you heard your boss’s footsteps on the stairs every morning?

 

Would the other woman be able to comprehend that someone would force a smile onto her face every time she entered her superior’s office, as if that would stave off his psychotic flights of temper? Probably not. Aisling picked a bit of dust off her navy shirt and cursed Leo Murphy.

 

If he hadn’t been such a pig this could have been any ordinary Monday morning at the office. Instead, she was waiting to see Edward Richardson who had heard about Friday’s encounter from Vivienne. He wanted to talk to Aisling about it. All she really wanted to do was forget about the whole damn thing and wish she’d never lost her temper with Leo or told Vivienne what had really happened, for that matter.

 

“It’s been going on ever since I joined,” she admitted shakily to

 

Vivienne on Friday evening when she rang to find out exactly what had gone on in Aisling’s office after the partners’ lunch.

 

“I didn’t know what to do, Vivienne, I’ve never experienced anything like that before. Nobody tells you how to deal with men like Leo and I just didn’t know what to do she repeated miserably.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Vivienne was furious. That bastard she said. Aisling started to cry silently with the relief of finally telling someone from Richardson, Reid and Finucane what Leo had been like.

 

But her relief quickly turned to terror when Vivienne pointed out that she’d have to tell Edward Richardson what had happened.

 

“You cant said Aisling frantically.

 

“You can’t!”

 

“I have to tell him Vivienne insisted.

 

“It’s his responsibility to make sure that none of his staff have to experience harassment. Anyway,” she added, ‘this isn’t the first time this has happened.”

 

On the other end of the phone Aisling gasped. She was stunned. She wasn’t the first woman Leo had harassed? The bastard.

 

“When Elizabeth was on holiday, earlier this year, we had a temp in because none of us could cover for Elizabeth at the time said Vivienne.

 

The temp only lasted two days. When she left she claimed Leo had been scaring her by making all sorts of weird comments. I honestly thought she wasn’t serious, but I can see now what must have happened. Aisling.” Vivienne continued earnestly, ‘you should have said something to me about him.

 

They’re very serious accusations.”

 

The word ‘accusations’ hit Aisling like a slap in the face.

 

Accusations! She hadn’t needed to spend more than a week in a solicitors’ practice to see that accusations were not statements to be tossed around lightly.

 

Aisling didn’t want to make accusations, she didn’t want Leo to tear her apart in public for daring to say that he’d tried to touch her and harass her. He was a lawyer, for God’s sake!

 

He’d make mincemeat out of her. She could imagine him telling everyone

 

how she’d thrown herself at him, a lonely ex-wife with nobody to cling on to at night and a desire for vengeance on mankind in general. Oh God, she could see it all now.

 

When Vivienne rang back two hours later to say she’d spoken to Edward and he wanted her to come and talk to him on Monday morning, Aisling panicked. It didn’t matter about the other woman Leo had harassed. She’d never told her story.

 

The first person to accuse Leo Murphy of sexual harassment would be Aisling Moran. She wasn’t even three months back at work and look what had happened. What a great way to kick-start her career.

 

Two Valiums meant she spent Saturday in a haze, staring blankly at the TV and not answering the phone. She knew Jo had promised to ring to see how she was, but Aisling really didn’t want to talk to anyone.

 

After all her plans to say hello to Michael and show off her new-found figure, Friday had obliterated her selfconfidence.

 

There was no way she wanted to face him now. She stayed in her room when Michael picked up the boys and stared out the window at his car as he reversed onto the road.

 

She managed to burn the grilled cod and roasted vegetable dish she’d made from a low-calorie recipe in a magazine. And she blindly put her red silk blouse into the machine with the boys’ soccer shorts and socks, turning the entire wash bright pink.

 

She downed most of a bottle of wine on Saturday night watching Pat Kenny, but she still hadn’t been able to sleep.

 

Instead she lay in bed, wide awake, turning Friday’s awful scene over and over in her brain and wondering whether it really was her fault after all.

 

It was as if there were two voices in her head one telling her she’d messed everything up, again. The other telling her that making a wax dummy out of Leo Murphy and sticking a few pins in him would be the perfect revenge. What am I going to do? She thought at half three as she sat up in bed with the light on and a barely read magazine propped

 

up in front of her. The only good thing was that the Finucanes were away for the weekend, so Pat and therefore Fiona obviously had no idea what had happened.

 

Oh God, she moaned over and over again, what sort of can of worms have I opened up? Why did I ever lose my temper with Leo? Why didn’t I calmly and quietly tell Vivienne what was going on and let her deal with it? Why was I such a wimp? The whole bloody thing was a nightmare.

 

“I wouldn’t have come in if you hadn’t rung me, Vivienne,” she said, clutching her coffee cup tightly. It was the one with the poppies, her favourite.

 

“I never wanted to see this place ever again because of him.”

 

The other woman pulled up a chair beside Aisling’s, sat down and clasped one of Aisling’s hands in her own.

 

“I know it took a lot of guts to come in here today, especially after all the things you told me. You’ve no idea how guilty I feel about never saying anything to you about Leo before …” Vivienne looked at Aisling apologetically.

 

“If I’d known he would try the same trick with you, of course I’d have said something. But I honestly thought there was something going on with Leo and the temp, and that was why she’d left so abruptly.” Vivienne sighed deeply.

 

“She was very pretty, sexy and very sure of herself. That’s why I didn’t really believe her. I know that sounds awful as if you bring harassment upon yourself if you’re sexy or good-looking. But I never thought he’d try it again, on someone like you,” she added earnestly.

 

Aisling said nothing for a moment. There were so many bobbles on her skirt she realised absently. Maybe she could try shaving them off with a disposable razor. Vivienne was still looking at her intently.

 

“Poor girl,” Aisling said finally. At least she had the sense to get away from him. I’ve been thinking about it all weekend, you know. I was the perfect victim I had zero confidence and was so scared I’d make a mistake in the job that I must have seemed like a heaven-sent opportunity to pick on,” she said quietly.

 

 

 

Then like him gravitate towards twenty-one-year-old temps and terrified women returning to work. They know we haven’t got either the experience or the nerve to tell them where to stick it.”

 

The grandfather clock in the hall outside struck nine.

 

Aisling jumped, spilling coffee onto the pale carpet.

 

“Oh sorry she said. “I’m very jumpy today.”

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Vivienne urged, putting an arm around Aisling’s shoulder.

 

“You’ve every reason to be nervy.”

 

Nervy was not the word. Terrified, apprehensive and anxious might just cover the feeling in the pit of her stomach.

 

Vivienne’s phone rang and she quickly picked it up.

 

“Yes, Edward. She’s here. I’ll send her in. I’ll hold all calls.”

 

Aisling blanched. Hold all calls. How long was Edward planning to talk to her for? God, she wished she had another Valium with her. She’d gone through the stash Fiona had given her. She knew she’d have to see her own doctor for more. She walked along the thick grey carpet on the way to Edward’s office and prayed silently.

 

She’d never been in his office before, only peered in the door on Caroline’s whistle-stop tour of the premises.

 

“Go on in said Vivienne encouragingly, holding the door open.

 

“Hello, Aisling.” said Edward. He rose from behind his highly polished antique desk and held out his hand. Dressed in a dark pinstriped suit with his gold-rimmed glasses on, he looked very formal and more than a little forbidding.

 

During her months with the company, he always smiled and asked her how she was whenever they bumped into each other, his manner more like that of an old friend than an employer.

 

Today, however, the old friend-of-the-family persona was gone, to be replaced by a steely-eyed look. Edward meant business.

 

“Sit down, Aisling.” he said.

 

Aisling sat with her hands tightly clasped, her jaw locked with tension. She wished she were anywhere else in the whole world but

 

here. “I’m very sorry to hear that there’s a problem between you and Leo,” Edward began.

 

“Naturally, I’d hate to think that any member of the staff felt they had been sexually harassed while working here and, if that is the case, this company will do their utmost to make sure that the full letter of the law is adhered to.”

 

Aisling listened intently. Edward seemed to be saying that he’d do anything to help her if Leo had harassed her. But there was a big question mark over the whole matter. She felt the faint stirrings of anger inside her.

 

“You understand that we have to listen to Mr. Murphy’s side of the story,” he said.

 

“Of course,” said Aisling automatically.

 

Tell me everything.” Edward took an elegant fountain pen off the desk and opened up a legal pad.

 

Have you got all day? thought Aisling grimly.

 

When she’d finished, Edward rang Vivienne and asked her to bring in some coffee and biscuits.

 

“You need it, my dear,” he advised Aisling, looking at her pale face. She felt totally drained. Talking about Leo’s advances was like experiencing it all over again. She’d told Edward that she didn’t want any trouble and that she’d considered not coming back to the office.

 

“But I need the job,” she said candidly.

 

Vivienne was either psychic or listening at the door, because she arrived with a tray of coffee and a plateful of biscuits within sixty seconds. Grateful to have the spotlight off herself at last, Aisling took a cup and stirred in sugar and milk. She almost didn’t hear Edward asking Vivienne to summon Leo Murphy to the boss’s office.

 

“He’s coming here now?” she asked in horror.

 

“Calm down, Aisling,” Edward said gently.

 

“Nothing’s going to happen. I’m here. This is a very serious matter and I’ll be honest with you, it won’t go away until we can clear the air.”

 

He leaned across the desk and looked at her earnestly.

 

“I

 

know that you don’t want to create any problems, Aisling, but until

 

this is resolved, it would be awkward for both you and Leo With my experience of these matters, a meeting between both parties, where the problem is discussed, is the best option. I want you to understand that you are fully entitled to I take legal action if you so wish. This meeting doesn’t preclude that.”

 

Even as Edward said he understood that she didn’t want any sort of legal battle with Leo, a little voice in Aisling’s head was repeating the same words over and over again.

 

“He’s done it before, it wasn’t your fault.” She couldn’t make the voice go away, it kept nagging her. Did she want a quiet life or justice?

 

Did she want to let him get away with it because she was too scared to fight him?

 

There was a sharp knock on the door. Aisling couldn’t help turning to look at it.

 

“Come in,” Edward said loudly.

 

Vivienne walked in, followed by Leo, all smiles, in one of his black suits with the usual dusting of dandruff on his shoulders. His face fell when he saw Aisling. Instead of sitting on the chair beside her, he chose one to the far right of Edward’s desk. She looked away. She didn’t want to see his face.

 

“Leo, delighted you could come,” Edward said smoothly.

 

“We’ve a problem I want to discuss. Vivienne, could you stay and take notes.”

 

“What’s this about?” began Leo, his voice a little loud.

 

Edward didn’t beat around the bush.

 

“Mrs. Moran has come to me with a complaint, Leo. She says that last Friday, a few hours after the partners’ lunch, you sexually harassed her, both physically and verbally.”

 

Aisling noticed that Edward didn’t suffer from Leo’s longwindedness.

 

He was precise and to the point.

 

“She also says that you have been making suggestive comments to her since she started working here. I wanted this meeting to decide whether this has to go any further, Leo, to hear your side of the story.”

 

The other man bridled. This is ridiculous!” he snapped.

 

“Utterly ridiculous! These accusations are totally unfounded.”

 

 

 

Aisling moved slightly further away from him on her chair.

 

She kept her eyes firmly trained on Edward’s face, but she could hear Leo’s breath quickening, the way it did when he was about to embark on a fully-fledged tantrum. She hoped Edward noticed his junior partner’s mood. This was not the way to win clients and influence people.

 

“Leo, I think I should point out to you that Mrs. Moran did not want to come in to work after last week’s incident,” Edward said.

 

“She has told me that she doesn’t want to pursue this matter further. So far he added pointedly.

 

“She merely wants the matter cleared up. In fact, had it not been for Ms Hogan, who was looking for Mrs. Moran at the time of the incident, I doubt that Mrs. Moran would have ever sought this meeting. What I’m saying, Leo, is that I want this sorted out with as little trouble as possible.”

 

Thank you, Edward, said Aisling silently. He believes me.

 

Vivienne must have told him about the temp. She allowed herself a quick sideways glance at Leo. He was now the colour of chalk. Behind him, Vivienne glanced quickly at Aisling and gave her the faintest flicker of a grin.

 

It was only then that Aisling realised what Edward was doing. He was cleverly giving Leo the impression that Vivienne had witnessed everything.

 

Leo didn’t know whether she had or not, but he dar en risk denying everything, therefore forcing Aisling to take him to court, in case he was wrong. Leo had to own up, didn’t he?

 

She felt a flicker of triumph.

 

“I don’t know what to say,” spluttered Leo.

 

“I mean, this is a ludicrous situation.”

 

“In that way?” inquired Edward silkily. Aisling could see how he’d built up such a successful practice. Charming and urbane, Edward Richardson was, nevertheless, every inch a tough lawyer when the occasion demanded it. She wondered if she could ask him to handle her inevitable divorce?

 

“Well, this whole situation is ludicrous,” protested Leo. He no longer sounded so cocky.

 

“Everything’s been blown out of all proportion.”

 

 

 

Edward, Aisling and Vivienne all leaned a fraction forward in their chairs. Had Leo just thrown all professional caution to the winds or was he completely rattled?

 

“What exactly has been blown out of all proportion?” asked Edward.

 

“If nothing happened, how can anything have been blown out of all proportion?”

 

“I have to admit, I got carried away and kissed Mrs. Moran …” stammered Leo, visibly shaken.

 

“Kissed her?” asked the other man sternly.

 

“Kissing implies that Mrs. Moran was willing, Mr. Murphy, and she says she wasn’t.”

 

“It was a clumsy attempt, I’d had too much to drink,” Leo stuttered.

 

“I never meant to hurt or offend her.”

 

Aisling could feel the tension leave her body. She never thought he’d confess. She had won. Now she wanted him hung, drawn and quartered. No, that was too easy. She wanted him alone in a room with herself, Vivienne and Fiona wielding baseball bats. Maybe too bloodthirsty.

 

“But I deny ever having made advances towards Mrs. Moran before,” Leo added sharply.

 

“This was a one-off occurrence for which I am profoundly sorry. In fact, I had planned to apologise to Mrs. Moran today if I upset her with my clumsy advance.”

 

The way Leo was telling it, Friday’s incident had become a love scene between a love struck admirer and his shy secretary, instead of an attempted grope. Aisling had had enough.

 

“Your behaviour was disgraceful!” she snapped at Leo.

 

“You are an absolute pig who made my life a misery. You deserve to be locked up and I shall see to it that you are!” she shrieked.

 

“How dare you try something like that on anyone. You completely abused your position and …”

 

“Mrs. Moran,” interrupted Edward firmly. “this is not the time for an argument which would only cause further distress.

 

If you are willing to accept Mr. Murphy’s apology, we can leave it at that.”

 

“I will accept Mr. Murphy’s apology when he makes it to me.” said Aisling angrily.

 

“Apologising to you isn’t the same.”

 

 

 

“Quite right,” said Edward.

 

“Mr. Murphy?”

 

Leo’s face was a picture. He was still pale under his tan but he had two red spots on his cheeks.

 

Leo turned to face Aisling. He could barely look at her and kept his eyes trained on some spot behind her head.

 

“I apologise if my attentions on Friday upset you, Mrs. Moran. It won’t happen again.”

 

“Good.” She smiled at him, a satisfied smile.

 

“Mr. Richardson she said. If everyone was going to be formal, she might as well too.

 

“I’m afraid that I would find it difficult to work with Mr. Murphy again and I would like some other position within the company.”

 

She hoped she wasn’t pushing it too far. Her contract was still only temporary and, for all she knew, they could have booted her out of the company on the grounds that they only had one position to be filled and she was rejecting it. But she didn’t think that was going to happen.

 

It was perfectly obvious to Aisling that Edward Richardson’ saw Leo as the guilty party. He would do his best for her, she was sure of it.

 

“I -understand,” he said.

 

“If you’d excuse me, ladies, I want a word with Mr. Murphy. I’ll talk to you when I’m finished, Mrs. Moran. Thank you.”

 

“No. Thank you, replied Aisling, rising to her feet.

 

Outside the door, she hugged Vivienne with delight.

 

“We did it she whispered.

 

“I’m so glad Vivienne whispered back. That bastard deserved to be brought to court, so he got off lightly. Well,” she amended, “maybe not. Wait till you see him when Edward is finished with him. Edward is furious about the whole thing.

 

I told him about the temp who complained and he went ballistic. He’s going to give Murphy a verbal warning.”

 

“Really?” Aisling asked.

 

“Yes. Sexual harassment is an extremely serious charge nowadays, Aisling, and the firm has taken on several harassment cases over the past few years. So think how damaging it would be to the firm if news

 

of this got out? Come into my office and wait for Edward. But don’t talk about what’s happened. Caroline is there. She doesn’t know anything about this. It would be better to keep it that way.”

 

Aisling arranged her spider plant so that the spindly leaves hung over the edge of the desk. She put a small framed photo of the twins beside it, and placed the little soapstone box, in which she kept paper clips, in front of the picture. The window was right behind her, so she adjusted the position of her VDU screen until it no longer reflected the bright sunlight streaming in the window. There. She was settled. Vivienne had certainly been busy on Monday. She’d got a brand new desk for Aisling, a right-angled one which meant she had lots of space for both her computer keyboard and her wire baskets.

 

The senior secretary had despatched four of the filing cabinets in her office to the file room and had made enough space for Aisling’s new desk. There were three desks in the office so there wasn’t a lot of room, but Aisling couldn’t have cared less. She was working with two women she liked and Edward had asked her to be secretary to Anthony Green, one of the firm’s new partners. She’d met him at the fateful partners’ lunch and immediately liked him.

 

What was more, Vivienne explained, he was just married and never stopped talking about ‘my wife’.

 

That’s a relief said Aisling at eight forty-five on Tuesday morning as she finished arranging her belongings on her new desk.

 

There’s a price to be paid when you’re irresistible to men,” Vivienne pointed out. She opened a black compact and peered at the mirror as she carefully applied some lipstick.

 

“I

 

was afraid I’d have to ask you to wear a chad or in to work.”

 

“Harassment is nothing to do with sex appeal,” Aisling shuddered.

 

“It’s a power trip for the pig in question. Anyway, I haven’t exactly been fighting admirers off with a stick since Michael left, you know.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Vivienne said.

 

 

 

“I didn’t mean to be flip. I was trying to be complimentary. The only reason you aren’t beating men off with a stick is because you don’t get out enough.”

 

“Where am I supposed to go?” demanded Aisling.

 

“Most of the people I know are couples that Michael and I both knew and they don’t invite me to be the odd one out at their dinner parties. My best single friend is Jo Ryan, and she’s over five months pregnant.

 

“After a day at work, she just goes home and conks out on the settee unless she’s house-hunting. The only other option is to go to singles’ nights out and I haven’t the nerve.”

 

“Why don’t you come out with me?” asked Vivienne.

 

“I’ve a couple of girlfriends I go out with once a week and we’d love to have you with us.”

 

“Would they mind me tagging along?” asked Aisling.

 

“I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise,” said Vivienne sensibly.

 

“We’re going out for a meal on Thursday. Probably just pizza and a glass of wine, nothing expensive. You’d enjoy it.”

 

“OK, I will come. I’d love to.” Aisling was delighted. She hadn’t been out in ages lunch in McDonald’s with the twins didn’t count and the thought of a night out and adult conversation was bliss. She’d ask Fiona’s babysitter to mind the boys.

 

It never rained but it poured, she thought that evening once she’d got off the phone with Fiona. After fifteen minutes listening to Fiona’s shocked commiserations about the Leo Murphy affair That bastard, Daddy should have fired him!”

 

the conversation turned to the party the Finucanes were giving on Saturday night to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary.

 

“It’s not going to be a big party,” Fiona assured Aisling.

 

“Only about fifty or sixty people.” Fiona and Aisling had wildly different views about how many people constituted a big party.

 

“I’m doing Marks and Spencer’s dips and cocktails, which even I can organise so don’t feel you have to volunteer to help. All I want from

 

you is your presence at nine o’clock in a devastatingly glamorous outfit.”

 

“No problem Aisling replied cheerily.

 

“Should I wear the Dior off-the-shoulder number or would the Versace sequin ned miniskirt be better?”

 

“Come in your bikini, darling. I’m inviting all the eligible single men I know, so I want you in something noticeable.” The in a bikini would be noticeable, but not necessarily in the right way, Fiona,” Aisling said, thinking of her stretch marks.

 

“Don’t knock yourself, Aisling, but do wear something sexy.

 

I’ve told them all you’re a red-hot career woman who wore out her last man, so don’t let me down!”

 

Aisling hung up laughing.

 

There was absolutely nothing red-hot in her wardrobe and she couldn’t see herself shopping for anything that would make her stand out from the crowd.

 

She wasn’t that confident about her new figure. And she didn’t have either the time or the energy to trawl the shops during lunchtime. But she could always get her hair done on Saturday morning when the boys were at soccer. Maybe she’d get a few inches cut off or have it styled differently.

 

Wednesday was manic. Caroline was sick so Vivienne and Aisling had to divide her work between them. Another new partner started work and he didn’t like his new office, wanted help working his computer and required business cards immediately.

 

And then the men putting in the new alarm system managed to turn off the electricity, losing all the computer files that people were working on and hadn’t saved. The air in Aisling and Vivienne’s office was blue with swearing.

 

Yet in the middle of all the power cuts, lost files and surprised yells coming from the people stuck in the windowless file room, Aisling felt happy, almost serene.

 

She didn’t really mind if the power went off all day, as long as she wasn’t sitting in Leo Murphy’s office. She sang along to the radio going into work and tapped her fingers to the music blasting out of the canteen at lunchtime. Nothing could dim the relief she felt at the

 

thought that her ten weeks working for that bastard were over. He’d stayed out on Tuesday, ‘ringing his lawyer, no doubt’, muttered Vivienne.

 

On Wednesday he kept his office door shut, an unusual occurrence unless he had a client in.

 

Buoyed up by her victory over him, she no longer quivered when she heard his step on the stairs. Aisling knew he wouldn’t come near her ever again.

 

It was after six on Wednesday by the time Aisling left the office and hurried to the car in the pouring rain, a plastic bag held over her head to keep her hair dry. Her head was aching from working at double speed to make up for lost computer time, but she was still in good humour.

 

The twins waltzed out of the child minder house each carrying a balloon, a small plastic bag and a party blower along with their school bags

 

“Hiya, Mum!” they yelled in unison, obviously in the best of spirits.

 

“Where did you get the balloons and the sweets?” she asked as Paul thrust his small plastic bag at her and urged her to take one.

 

“Lome’s party replied Phillip thickly as he chewed on a toffee.

 

“She’s ten.”

 

“She’s Phillip’s girlfriend!” shouted Paul, dodging his brother’s immediate kick.

 

“She isn’t.” howled Phillip.

 

“Is! Is!” screeched Paul.

 

“Boys! Stop!” pleaded Aisling.

 

“I’ve got a headache. I hope Mrs. O’Brien hasn’t been giving you fizzy drinks she said once they were in the back seat of the car still squabbling energetically.

 

“Ribena.” said Paul, dodging Phillip’s well-aimed thumps.

 

“I

 

hate Ribena.”

 

“Well I love it Phillip answered.

 

They kept it up all the way home, scuffling and whispering threats at each other until finally Aisling told them she’d throw them both out of the car to walk home if they didn’t shut up.

 

 

 

At home, they belted up the stairs together, leaving a trail of school bags anoraks and sweets in the hall. Aisling just walked past the mess.

 

In the kitchen, she took a dish of lasagne out of the fridge and slid it into the oven. That was dinner organised. She quickly boiled the kettle, made herself a cup of tea and carried it into the sitting room where she slid off her shoes and sank into an armchair. She deserved a rest. She smiled to herself.

 

The lasagne would take around forty minutes and she wasn’t budging until it was cooked. The terrible twosome could kill each other upstairs if they liked, but she wasn’t going to investigate.

 

After dinner, the boys sat at the kitchen table and Aisling refereed while they did their homework.

 

“Phillip must work at his handwriting,” the teacher had written at the “teacher’s comments” section of his homework notebook. Looking at the childish scrawl all over his English copybook where sentences rambled with little regard for the lines on the page, Aisling could see what Miss Devine meant.

 

“I’m trying,” he said sweetly, leaning up against his mother.

 

Are you?” she asked.

 

“Yes.” Phillip nodded.

 

“I’m very good at maths. I got ten out of ten in my test yesterday. So did Paul. But Miss Devine took a mark off him because he broke Shane’s pencil.”

 

“Why did you do that, Paul?” asked Aisling, astonished that the quieter of the two had been involved in any sort of argument. Phillip was the truculent one, the twin most likely to fight. Left to his own devices, Paul wouldn’t have hurt a fly.

 

He was saying nothing. Eyes focused on his open copybook, he wrote slowly, his left hand bent awkwardly as he wrote.

 

“Paul. Talk to me!”

 

“Shane said you and Dad would get divorced and never live together again, so Paul took his pencil. It wasn’t Paul’s fault,” Phillip said defensively.

 

“Is this true?” asked Aisling quietly.

 

Paul nodded.

 

 

 

She put one hand on his dark head and ruffled his hair, trying her hardest to smile even though she wanted to cry.

 

Poor Paul. He did his best to pretend everything was all right when, deep down, he was a miserable little boy caught in the crossfire of a marriage breakup. Phillip had coped so much better. Or at least, it seemed that way.

 

He was eager to see his dad every Saturday and loved being driven around in her sports car. The time spent with their father was always jam-packed with excitement, Aisling complained to Fiona, because he brought them to McDonald’s, to the cinema or bowling. To make up for not being there all week. He gets the fun part,” she pointed out.

 

“Meanwhile, I get them up in the morning, dole out the Coco Pops, get them to school, pick them up at night, feed them, help them do their homework, wash their clothes and buy the groceries. I think we should swap now and again,” she added crossly, knowing in her heart that she would have hated it if the twins lived with Michael and not with her.

 

Both boys came back home happy and tired after the weekend, but the previous Sunday night Paul was very subdued. Would Dad ever be coming home to live with them again? He asked, staring at her with confused dark eyes.

 

Aisling hadn’t known what to say at first. She’d simply hugged him and said that Dad loved them and would see them all the time, but that he wanted to live somewhere else.

 

Now, Aisling put down Phillip’s homework notebook and looked at them both earnestly.

 

“Boys, there’s no point in getting upset when people talk about your dad and I splitting up,” she said.

 

“It happens to lots of families and the important thing to remember is that even though Dad and I aren’t getting on well, we both still love you two, OK? You know,” she added conversationally, ‘you’re lucky because you have two homes now. That’s special. I bet Shane won’t get two lots of Christmas presents, either. Tell him that next time he bothers you, Paul.”

 

“I will,” said Paul, his jaw set as firmly as his father’s. It was

 

hard to put Michael out of her mind when the kids looked so like him. Somewhat cheered up, Paul returned to his homework and Phillip carefully tugged his notebook out from under Aisling’s elbow.

 

“Work on your handwriting, brat,” she said, ruffling his hair affectionately.

 

When the boys were finally in bed, Aisling finished the ironing before mashing the potato for the following evening’s shepherd’s pie. It wasn’t their favourite dish but she wanted something quick and easy to give them before she went out.

 

She’d hoovered earlier in the evening and now she dusted the sitting room, cleaned the downstairs loo and put another wash on. Even though the babysitter was a seventeen-year-old Leaving Cert student who had more on her mind than untidy houses, Aisling’s pride meant she didn’t want the place looking messy the following evening.

 

As usual, she was halfway through bleaching the work tops before she remembered her rubber gloves lying untouched in the cupboard underneath the sink. That’s why Vivienne has elegant nails and I have dry hands and flaky nails, she muttered. There was no point bothering with them now.

 

She’d rub cream on her hands later. If she remembered.

 

It was half ten by the time she’d finished cleaning and polishing. Roll on tomorrow, Aisling thought, sinking into the settee with a small gin and tonic. If ever a woman deserved a night out, she did.

 

Thomas Read’s was buzzing when Aisling ventured in, clutching the folds of her raincoat around her legs selfconsciously.

 

She was wearing a new on-the-knee black skirt which showed off lots of leg in her seven-deniers. The short skirt was a mistake, she decided passing the bus stop and getting a flash of herself tottering in her black suede stilettos.

 

She loved short skirts but was never sure whether she had the legs for them or not. Definitely not.

 

As she stood, she scanned the pub anxiously. She couldn’t see Vivienne anywhere. The place was jam-packed even though it was only after eight o’clock. The tables were full of welldressed people, all looking at

 

home in the trendy city-centre pub. Aisling felt totally out of place, as if she had a sign over her head proclaiming that she was thirty-five, separated and wasn’t used to going anywhere more exciting on Thursday evenings than Quinnsworth.

 

She spotted Vivienne standing up and waving at her. Relief flooded through her as she wound her way through the crowd. It was horrible arriving on her own, trying to fit in and find people at the same time when she felt so selfconscious and out of place.

 

“Awful, I know,” said the darkhaired woman sitting beside Vivienne when Aisling arrived at the table and sat down, raincoat still on. There’s nothing worse than arriving somewhere on your own.” Wow, thought Aisling, I really must have a sign over my head.

 

“Glad you made it.” Vivienne looked marvelous in a crimson velvet fitted shirt with her hair in an elegant topknot.

 

Aisling, this is Maria. “She gestured at the woman who had spoken when Aisling arrived, a large brunette wearing a grape-coloured satin jacket which revealed an impressive cleavage. Maria was wearing a lot of make-up which emphasised full lips and high cheekbones and a jet pendant necklace which drew the eye directly down. And Annie.”

 

“Nice to meet you said Annie, pulling up a chair for Aisling. She was petite, blonde and wearing a rich brown lycra dress Aisling had already spotted in Dunnes.

 

“I’m afraid we’ve already started,” Annie said, picking up her glass of red wine.

 

“Maria, catch that waiter’s eye, will you?”

 

“Hello, Aisling, welcome to our little gathering,” said Maria warmly, leaning over the table towards Aisling.

 

“When you walked in, you reminded me of myself four years ago just after I split up with my husband,” she confessed.

 

“I was terrified of going anywhere on my own after years of being part of a couple. Every time I went out, I felt so strange and out of place, being on my own and not being used to it. And now look at me!”

 

Several people did and Maria smiled at them, shooting smouldering looks

 

at a handsome -young man at the table beside them who was chattering in Italian to two girls.

 

“Maria likes to stand out from the crowd explained Vivienne gravely.

 

“It makes a change from all those times when I wanted to sit in the corner and die because I was a size eighteen and I wanted to be a ten said Maria, turning away from Mr. Latin with a wink. She waved at a bar girl.

 

“Now, what’s your poison, Aisling?”

 

“A gin and tonic, please said Aisling, feeling more at home in her little black skirt and silky grey wrap over blouse now that it appeared that the other women were dressed to kill.

 

“Enough about us. Tell us all about you. Vivienne has been filling us in on the boss with the roaming hands and I want to hear every gory detail of how you thumped him! I wouldn’t like to tell you what I’d do if he tried it on me!”

 

Aisling burst out laughing. She’d love to see what the voluptuous Maria would do if she got her hands on Leo.

 

They talked so much that they were half an hour late for their table in Sinners, the Lebanese restaurant a few doors away. In between hearing about Maria’s gorgeous new dentist, Aisling discovered how the three other women had met.

 

They’d been doing a computer course five years before, had struck up a friendship during the first lunch-break and had remained friends ever since. They were all totally different the extrovert and risque Maria, down-to-earth Vivienne and Annie, a quiet woman with a wry sense of humour yet they got on like a house on fire.

 

This place is lovely said Maria as she squeezed into the pew-style seat at their table and dumped a bulging suede handbag onto the seat beside

 

“And so’s the waiter” she whispered.

 

“Are we going to order or not?” Annie demanded ten minutes later, while Maria flirted with the waiter.

 

“I’m ravenous.”

 

“Sorry.” Maria said repentantly.

 

“He’s so cute. It’s a pity he’s so young. He’s just my type.”

 

 

 

On Vivienne’s advice, Aisling ordered the house speciality, Mezes, a selection of different types of Lebanese food.

 

“It sounds like lots of teeny-weeny dishes and you think you’ll still be hungry afterwards said Maria, ‘but wait until you see the amount you get. You’ll be stuffed.”

 

They ate char-grilled lamb, stuffed vine leaves and beautiful deep-fried goat’s cheese, and talked non-stop about what had happened to each of them over the past week.

 

As they chattered about everything under the sun, Aisling found herself joining in as if she’d known them all her life.

 

Funny, down-to-earth and warm, the three women were the sort of people you could tell anything to.

 

She found herself talking to them about her separation from Michael in a way she’d never been able to do with her sister, Sorcha. It was a relief to talk about how scared she’d been at the thought of going back to work after so long.

 

“I was terrified of you at first, Vivienne,” Aisling admitted, now knowing the other woman well enough to actually say it, “You poor thing,” Vivienne said apologetically. That was a dreadful day for me because Christine had been awake all night with a stomach bug and I hated leaving her with my mother that morning. I was a complete zombie with exhaustion.

 

It took me five minutes to hide the dark circles with concealer. And when I met you for the first time I thought you were just some bored well-heeled housewife amusing herself with a job … Oh, I’m sorry, Aisling, I really am.” She leaned over and patted Aisling’s arm.

 

“I’d always prided myself on not judging people until I knew them and I did just that with you.”

 

“Oh, it doesn’t matter now,” Aisling said sincerely.

 

“Look how good you’ve been to me since.”

 

“I should have told you about bloody Leo, that’s what Vivienne replied.

 

“I was thinking of how legally risky it would be to spread a rumour like that especially when I didn’t really have any proof, so I said nothing and you had to deal with the consequences.”

 

 

 

“That’s in the past, Viv. So let’s forget about it.” Aisling patted the other woman’s hand gently.

 

“You’re absolutely right, Aisling,” Maria said firmly.

 

“We’re not here to dredge up bad experiences. We’re here to have fun.” She lifted her glass for a toast and the others followed suit. To us and to fun!”

 

“Cheers!” the others said in unison.

 

Maria was separated and had two teenage children, a fact which amazed Aisling as the other woman only looked about thirty-two or three.

 

Thirty-three and a few months confirmed Maria, with a cheesy smile.

 

“Ninety-six months, actually. It’s my lifestyle, you see. Some people diet, drink lots of water and buy horrifically expensive moisturisers to stay young she confided to Aisling.

 

“Personally, I use the dairy chocolate bar method of staying young she continued.

 

“Eat lots of chocolate yes, you do put on weight, but you’re happy only use water for making tea, coffee or hot whiskies, go out with plenty of nice men and make sure you’ve got two mad young girls around the house.

 

That keeps me young.”

 

“Sounds like a great recipe Aisling said.

 

“How old are the girls?”

 

“Shelley was fifteen last month I can’t believe how fast she’s growing up exclaimed Maria.

 

“Lynsey is seventeen.

 

She’s doing her Leaving this year and Shelley’s doing her Group. The house is an exam time bomb waiting to go off. I’m afraid to have the telly up loud at night because they’re studying so hard.”

 

“You’re lucky they both want to study said Aisling.

 

“Shelley really looks up to Lynsey, she hero worships her explained Maria.

 

“Because Lynsey got the best Group Cert results in the school, Shelley wants to do the same, which is wonderful. I’m delighted.”

 

Annie was in her late thirties, was married to Greg, a carpenter, and had one little girl. She told Aisling that she’d been engaged for five years to her childhood sweetheart until she was twenty-nine when she

 

fell in love with a man she worked with. She left her fiance to move in with Greg and had never looked back.

 

“I know because of your experience, you probably think it’s a dreadful thing to do,” Annie said slowly, stirring sugar into her coffee.

 

“I was living with Ray for six years and I thought we’d get married and have kids eventually, you know, the whole nine yards. Then I met Greg and fell in love.” She paused for a moment, obviously thinking about him. Vivienne said she’d never seen a couple so incredibly in love. They hold hands when they walk,” Vivienne explained.

 

“How many couples do you know who do that after nine years together?”

 

“You don’t choose who you fall in love with,” continued Annie.

 

“It was so dreadful at the time of the breakup, but I’m so glad I did it. I’m so happy now,” she added.

 

“Annie is proof that true love exists,” remarked Vivienne, pouring the remains. of the third bottle of wine into their glasses.

 

“Well, you’re not doing too badly in the love department yourself,” Maria pointed out.

 

“I don’t know Vivienne said gloomily.

 

“I think Pat’s getting cold feet about the whole thing. We’re supposed to be going away next weekend and yesterday he phoned to say he might have to work on Saturday after all.” She took a gulp of wine.

 

“God, I’d love a cigarette. I always want to start smoking again when I’ve had a few glasses of wine.”

 

Vivienne was going out with a detective she’d met at a wedding ten months previously. Good-looking, kind, solvent and with a great sense of humour, he was almost too good to be true, Vivienne said. She kept waiting to discover some fatal flaw in him. Privately, Aisling thought Vivienne was probably right. What man didn’t have a fatal flaw?

 

“Pat’s job is hardly routine, Viv,” Annie said sensibly.

 

“He never knows what’s going to come up or when he has to work, so you can’t blame him for that.”

 

“And Christine loves him,” put in Maria.

 

“She may only be eight but she’s very clever, cleverer than her mother

 

when it comes to men!” She wagged a finger at Vivienne.

 

As the staff in Sinners seemed in no hurry to close the place up, the four women sat and talked until nearly one.

 

“Oh God, is that the time?” gasped Aisling, looking at her watch in alarm. The babysitter will go berserk. I didn’t mean to be home so late.”

 

“You need to get out, Aisling,” Vivienne said quietly.

 

“Otherwise you’ll go mad. Think of this evening as therapy. It’s more fun and much cheaper than Prozac!”

 

Aisling and Maria shared a taxi home. The other woman lived in Sandymount, which was on Aisling’s way home.

 

“You will come out with us again, won’t you?” asked Maria when the taxi pulled up outside a pretty terraced house in a quiet street.

 

“Of course, I’d love to,” answered Aisling warmly.

 

After her night out with Vivienne, Annie and Maria, all of whom obviously enjoyed her company, Aisling felt more confident about going to the Finucanes’ party. On Friday evening while the boys were watching TV, she tore her wardrobe apart looking for something that would live up to Fiona’s description of ‘red-hot’.

 

She found nothing. The evening clothes she’d worn for the past few years were generally size sixteen, black, navy or grey and all-encompassing to hide the tummy she hated and her fat thighs. All she found were long, A-line tunics, several sloppy jumpers and a pink silk over shirt that had always made her look like she was pregnant. Now that she fitted into a size twelve with ease, everything looked frumpy and far too big on her. There was nothing terribly sexy in the evening-clothes department apart from a black body with a low-cut neck.

 

Worn with her new black skirt, the outfit looked nice but rather boring. She poked around in the drawer where she kept her costume jewellery, looking for something that would enliven the outfit. Nothing. She was about to strip it off in despair when the doorbell rang.

 

 

 

When she got downstairs, Phillip had already answered the door and Fiona was standing in the hall.

 

“Looks like I came at the right time,” Fiona said gaily, waving a big Next bag.

 

“This is what I’m thinking of wearing tomorrow night,” Aisling said, doing a twirl in her stockinged feet.

 

“I can’t find anything else, basically. Is it OK?”

 

“It’s OK, but you want to look better than OK, my dear.

 

That’s why I came over. Come on upstairs. I’ve brought over a few gorgeous things for you to try on for the party. I knew you wouldn’t buy anything new.” Fiona marched upstairs with Aisling following

 

Even though she had probably been having a mini breakdown at home organising the house for the party, Fiona would still make time to make sure her friend was wearing something drop-dead gorgeous. She was a great friend, Aisling thought as she followed Fiona’s petite jeans-clad bum up the stairs.

 

“I know you don’t want to spend all day tomorrow buying clothes, which is a good thing as I can’t come with you.” Fiona talked as she opened the bag and laid various items of clothing on Aisling’s bed.

 

“One day we must go shopping together because I still don’t trust you not to buy boring dark things because you think they make you look thinner. But until then, here are a few bits and pieces for tomorrow night.

 

What do you think of this?”

 

She held up a bronze-coloured body with a wrap over front which was made of spray-on lycra and would undoubtedly reveal plenty of cleavage.

 

“It’s very Maria,” Aisling said, holding the body up to herself and looking at the mirror.

 

“But it’s also very small. How the hell can any of your clothes fit me!”

 

“It’s all down to the Goddess of Lycra,” Fiona said.

 

“This stuff is stretchy, so it’ll fit you, no problem. Is Maria one of Vivienne’s friends?”

 

“Yes, she’s a howl Aisling said, unzipping her skirt.

 

“She’s a real individual, mad as a bicycle. She had us all in stitches

 

the whole night. You’ll have to meet the three of them. You really like Vivienne and Annie as well. What do you think?”

 

She stepped back from Fiona and looked in the mirror. The body fitted her as if it had been made for her. It moulded her curves like a second skin and the subtle colour suited her much better than the black body she’d been wearing minutes before.

 

“Gorgeous. It’s lovely.” Fiona eyed the outfit with her head at an angle. Try it with trousers or with your long black skirt.

 

I think it’ll look great with a long skirt and this gold chain belt.”

 

She was right. Aisling stood in front of the mirror, delighted with the slim and toned body she saw. Thank you Callanetics, she said to herself.

 

Try on this,” ordered Fiona, handing Aisling a black lace top.

 

This is perfect, Fiona,” protested Aisling, gesturing at what she was wearing.

 

“I don’t need anything else.”

 

“Go on, Aisling. You need more than one sexy evening outfit now that you’re turning into a party animal. Anyway, that top suits you much better than it suits me, so you’d be doing me a favour if you keep it..”

 

“I can’t keep it,” Aisling said.

 

“Don’t be silly. I never wear the bronze thing because I just don’t have the boobs for it.” Fiona looked down at her rather flat chest ruefully. And you should take the black thing too. It never really suited me. Go on, take them. They’re just cluttering up my wardrobe. Or rather Pat’s wardrobe, since I’ve taken over most of his as well. I think I’ll soon have to buy one of those clothes rails you see in shops.”

 

Aisling quickly tried on the lace top. Beautifully cut with a high neck and long sleeves, if it had been made of anything other than lace, it would have looked very plain. But because it only had a built-in bra lining the fabric under the lace around her breasts, the effect was of a very revealing and incredibly sexy outfit.

 

 

 

“Fiona, I cannot go out in this. You could see my bra at the back,” Aisling pointed out.

 

“In fact, you couldn’t wear a bra with this at all.”

 

That’s the whole point.” Fiona sat back on the bed and gave her friend a mischievous grin.

 

“What do you mean? Am I supposed to break into Patricia the Stripper and undress when there’s a lull in the conversation?”

 

Fiona looked cagey.

 

“Well, I’ve got a couple of nice single men coming and I did promise them a live strip show in the dining room …” She chuckled at the idea.

 

“No, Aisling, I just want you to live up to your potential. You’re gorgeous and it’s about time you realised it. There’s no point hiding behind loads of clothes any more. I won’t let you.”

 

Aisling was unbelievably touched.

 

“You’re very good to me, Fiona. What would I do without you?”

 

Fiona considered this!

 

“Well, you wouldn’t have an appointment with my hairdresser at ten tomorrow morning. I’m going in for a blow-dry and I thought it would be great if we went together.”

 

She looked at Aisling expectantly.

 

“What do you think?”

 

That’s a great idea,” Aisling answered.

 

“I didn’t book anywhere because it slipped my mind today. Actually, I was thinking of getting highlights put in, just a few, nothing much,” she added hurriedly. She shouldn’t have said that.

 

Now Fiona would pester her unmercifully to get the full Marilyn peroxide look.

 

“Brilliant!” Fiona clapped her hands delightedly.

 

“I know you’ll look wonderful with highlights. Watch out boys,” she said with a wicked laugh. The newly single and available Aisling Moran is going to hit the scene!”

 

They’ll think I’m really available if I wear this,” Aisling pointed out.

 

“All the more reason to wear it. You don’t want to become a nun!”

 

Aisling couldn’t think of a suitable answer to that.

 

 

 

The smell of ammonia filled Aisling’s nostrils and she was glad when a cup of coffee was put before her. Taking a sip, she turned her attention to Vogue magazine and relaxed. It was lucky that Fiona had made an. appointment for her as the salon was already buzzing and it was only a quarter past eleven.

 

“We’re doing a wedding party with six bridesmaids explained the colourist as he painstakingly divided Aisling’s hair into tiny sections, slipped tiny pieces of easi-meche paper under each section and painted different types of bleach on.

 

They all want ringlets he whispered.

 

“It’s like a Helena Bonham-Carter lookalike competition in here.”

 

An earnest young man wearing all black, the colourist chattered away as he worked on Aisling’s hair. She was fascinated by the whole procedure. By using the meche method, he explained, he could apply different colours to her hair and this would make it look more natural than just being bleached with one colour.

 

She had a lot of hair and it took a solid hour to do her whole head. When he had finished, he gave her a pile of glossy magazines, asked her did she want coffee and put her , under a rather strange hair dryer which looked like a three-bar fire more than anything else.

 

It felt wonderful to be pampered, to sit back, read magazines, drink coffee and let someone else run around like a headless chicken. She’d been up at eight, organising the boys’ soccer kit which she hadn’t done the night before, getting their breakfast and bringing them to soccer. She’d ended up putting her make-up on at traffic lights because she didn’t want to go to the hairdresser’s barefaced. Nothing accentuated lines more than the unforgiving light in a hairdressing salon.

 

But today wasn’t like any of the other times she’d gone to the hairdresser over the last few years. Since she’d put on weight, sitting for ages in front of a mirror with nothing to do but stare at herself was painful. Not any more.

 

 

 

Today, the woman in the mirror was a slim, independent working woman. She turned a page. She never bought Vogue so it was nice to read it for free at the hairdresser’s. And it certainly gave you a glance into how the other half lived, she thought, marvelling at how a simple dress could cost over a thousand pounds, even if it was made by Gucci. For that money, it would want to be able to do the dishes, hoover the sitting room and cook the dinner.

 

She looked up to see how Fiona was getting on. Her neighbour was seated at the other end of the salon having her hair blow-dried into a sleek bob.

 

Aisling didn’t know who was more pleased when she said she wanted her whole head highlighted the hairdresser or Fiona.

 

“Well, how are you doing?” asked Fiona, appearing at Aisling’s side suddenly.

 

“I’m doing marvellously,” said Aisling with a smile, holding up her coffee cup with her little finger crooked in a parody of the way her granny told her was ladylike.

 

“I think I should spend all Saturday mornings in the hairdresser.”

 

“Good, said Fiona, who did spend all her Saturday mornings in the hairdresser.

 

“You’d be great company for me. What time will you be ready?”

 

“About another hour, I reckon Aisling replied.

 

“I’ll nip off to do some shopping then. I saw this divine little dress in Jackie Lavin’s window yesterday and I’m going to try it on. Yes, I know I said I wasn’t buying any clothes for ages, and I know Pat will murder me if he sees another shopping bag in the house. He says I’m a shopaholic,” Fiona added in a surprised tone.

 

“But this dress is lovely. It’s silver-beaded and has a halter-neck .. Divine. I’ll be back in an hour, OK?”

 

You just had to laugh at Fiona, Aisling thought. If she knew anyone else who spent half her life shopping and the other half thinking about shopping, she’d think they were one of society’s rich bitches. But Fiona was so kind and funny, you didn’t mind the fact that she spent more on clothes in one week than many people earned in two. It must be nice to have an inheritance.

 

 

 

By the time Fiona returned with two large bags of shopping, Aisling was ready. The colourist was showing her the back of her head with a hand mirror and she was bursting with delight. The long lank mousy hair had gone, to be replaced by soft waves of shoulder-length glossy blonde hair which framed her face beautifully. The face was the same, Aisling thought, taking in the perfectly styled hair, but it looked totally different now.

 

Her skin glowed beside the soft gold and ash blonde strands of hair. Her eyes looked large and luminous now that her hair was swept back from her face.

 

“Aisling! Wow!” Fiona’s voice was high-pitched with surprise.

 

“Well, what do you think?” Aisling swivelled around in her chair and grinned at her friend.

 

“You look amazing, absolutely amazing. You should have had this done years ago,” said Fiona.

 

“I’d probably walk past you on the street if I hadn’t seen you here. You look so different.”

 

“I know. Isn’t it wonderful?” Aisling couldn’t keep the delight out of her voice. She felt transformed. She wanted to run outside and march into all the expensive shops in the Blackrock Centre. Now she looked as if she belonged in them, I looked as if she was a stylish and attractive woman instead of the drudge she’d been for so long.

 

She shook her head slightly for the third time, enjoying the feeling of her hair rippling around her head. Aisling felt as if she’d never get tired of doing this, delighted with how light her hair felt and fascinated at the way it fell perfectly into place each time.

 

“Come on, we better get out of here,” she said.

 

“I have to pick up the twins and you have to organise the party of the year.”

 

Fiona grimaced.

 

“I love the idea of having a party until the actual day I’m having it. Then, I want to sit curled up on the couch with a dry Martini and a good book.”

 

 

 

“It’ll be fun, Fiona, you know you’ll start enjoying yourself after the first half-hour. You always do.”

 

The twins loved Aisling’s new hairstyle.

 

“You look great, Mum,” Paul said.

 

“Yeah, it’s lovely added Phillip.

 

But they weren’t the ones she wanted to impress with her new look. Once they got home, she raced upstairs to look at herself in her bedroom mirror. Maybe she only looked good in the hair salon, she thought anxiously. Maybe she’d revert back to her normal, boring self as soon as she looked in the mirror at home. The woman who stood in the centre of the bedroom was totally different from the woman who’d left that morning.

 

A deep, slow smile spread across Aisling’s face. She took her lipstick out of her handbag and quickly applied some. But the colour which had looked fine with her mousey long hair looked pale and uninteresting on the blonde Aisling.

 

She rummaged around in the dressing-table drawer until she found what she was looking for a rich pink lipstick she’d bought ages ago and never worn. It went perfectly with the pink short-sleeved cardigan she wore with her jeans, jeans she needed to belt at the waist.

 

It was after two when Phillip roared down from his bedroom, “Dad’s here, Dad’s here!”

 

Aisling put down the knife she’d been using to peel the potatoes and quickly washed her hands. OK, Michael, get ready to meet the new, improved Aisling Moran.

 

She fixed a smile on her lips and opened the door slowly, her heart thumping madly. He was standing a few feet away from the front door, obviously expecting the boys to run out to the car the way they usually did. Dressed in dark grey cords and his ancient marl grey Nike T-shirt, Michael looked tired and drawn. She’d have sworn that there were more grey hairs around his temples than there had been the last time she’d seen him.

 

“Hello, Michael,” she said coolly. The boys will be down in a minute. We had a late lunch and they haven’t got their stuff ready.” ‘

 

Ignoring the look of astonishment in his eyes, she turned and yelled up the stairs.

 

“Come on boys, get a move on.”

 

When she turned back to Michael, he was studying her as if they’d only just met. His gaze came back to rest on her face and the look in his eyes was one of admiration.

 

“You look fantastic, Aisling,” he said slowly.

 

“Your hair is different, it’s great.”

 

Thanks,” she murmured casually, as though she didn’t give a damn what he thought of her. She flicked back a tendril of ash blonde hair off her face, enjoying his discomfiture. Just because you left me, doesn’t mean I turned into a one-woman disaster area, she thought.

 

“How are things? You’re coping all right with the money I’m paying into your account?” he asked awkwardly.

 

Despite their earlier fight about money, he’d been generous with his maintenance payments. She was doing fine financially, what with his money and her wages, but Aisling was still nervous of splashing out on anything. The thought of the first few days when she’d found damn-all money in their joint account was still too fresh in her mind. ” ?

 

“Fine, we’re doing great.”

 

“Good. How’s the job?”

 

“Fine.”

 

They stood in silence for a moment. Michael seemed to be searching for something to say. Under normal circumstances. Aisling, who couldn’t bear awkward silences, would have said something inane just to keep the conversation going. Today she was master of the situation. She said nothing.

 

“What are you up to tonight?” he asked finally. Any plans?”

 

Wow, she thought triumphantly, I must look good. A few months ago, Aisling wouldn’t have had any plans for a Saturday night and he knew it. Now, she obviously looked good enough to merit an inquiry about her social life.

 

“Going to a party,” she said.

 

“Really. Who’s having the party? Anyone I know?”

 

“No.” She was cool and calm on the outside, but on the inside she was laughing to her heart’s content. He wanted to know where she was

 

going, who she was going with and how the hell she was looking this good. But he wouldn’t say a word. He didn’t want to let on that he was consumed with curiosity about the newly blonde Aisling Moran.

 

After a full two minutes’ silence, she mentally chalked up a point to herself. I bet you’re burning up with curiosity, Michael. Hah!

 

“You look tired,” she commented.

 

“Lots of late nights?”

 

Score two to Aisling.

 

“You know what it’s like in the News,” he said wearily. To make up for the Saturdays I take off to see the boys, I’m working on Mondays now and end up working very late on “Friday.”

 

“Dad!” roared Phillip, appearing beside his mother with a bulging hold-all. God only knew what he’d packed. Both twins were magpies who loved collecting junk and loved having it with them at all times, something they’d inherited from Aisling. Her handbags routinely had to be repaired when the handles broke or the stitching came undone from all the bits and pieces she carried around with her.

 

She gave Paul a hug before doing the same to his brother.

 

“Be good and take care, darlings.” She stood back in the doorway, making it crystal-clear that the conversation with Michael was over. Her smile was frosty.

 

“Bye. See you tomorrow she said.

 

“Yeah, bye.” Michael looked at her blankly for a moment, as if he wanted to say something but decided not to. Then he turned and walked to the car. She watched for a moment, waved goodbye to the boys and shut the front door. Her euphoria vanished instantly. It had been wonderful to give Michael a shock, wonderful to see him re-evaluating her. It had been a short-lived feeling. Without the boys the house felt empty. And so did she.

 

There was no point staying home and moping, she told herself firmly as she grabbed her handbag, her shopping list and her car keys. Get out of the house or you’ll go mad. Show off your new look.

 

 

 

She dawdled around the Stillorgan shopping centre for ove ran hour, browsing in the bookshop and running her hands along rails of clothes in A-Wear.

 

She picked up a couple of things and tried them on, but even the thrill of fitting comfortably into a size twelve didn’t cheer her up. She’d felt great earlier. Why had meeting Michael for the first time in weeks plunged her into such despair? Was it because seeing him brought all the pain back, pain that she’d pushed to the back of her mind when she was working or with the twins? Or was it that she missed him?

 

Damn Michael anyway.

 

In Quinnsworth, she shopped slowly, meandering between the aisles and picking up the ingredients for the pesto tagliatelle that Jo loved. She was coming to dinner on Sunday and Aisling wanted it to be a special night.

 

On the phone a few days earlier, Jo had sounded very miserable but couldn’t talk properly because she was working late in the office and wasn’t alone. The poor thing. She was obviously finding it hard coping with pregnancy on her own.

 

Aisling threw several packets of pasta into her trolley. The boys loved spaghetti and never tired of sucking individual strands of pasta into their mouths and seeing who could suck fastest.

 

Michael loved ravioli because his Italian grandmother had made ‘the most delicious ravioli in the world’. Despite all her culinary skills, Aisling had never been able to match his granny’s recipe. There’d been no pleasing him, had there?

 

Why had she even tried? Why was she thinking about him, in fact? He was gone. There was no point crying over Michael.

 

He had his own life and she had to get on with hers. Tonight was a good time to start. She’d get dressed early and go over to help Fiona with the party preparations. Then she’d chat up all the eligible men Fiona had promised to invite. Ciao, Michael. Hello new life.

 

“So, you work with Pat. Are you a lawyer?” Gary eased himself into the armchair beside Aisling and gave her the benefit of a gleaming

 

white smile. He was tall, fair and quite overweight, dwarfing the armchair with his bulk.

 

For someone who’d only been introduced to her a minute ago, Gary was staring at her in a very familiar manner. His eyes were travelling over her body slowly and carefully as if he were a surveyor looking for dry rot.

 

“No!” she said loudly, to get his attention away from her chest. She loved wearing the slinky black lace top but it was very revealing and Gary was the second man to be transfixed by her boobs. What was more, he was wearing a wedding ring, although his wife had been nowhere in sight when Pat introduced him. This was her first party as a separated woman land she was very nervous about the whole thing. After twelve years married to one man, her social ising-with-men skills Were, as she’d said to Fiona, nil.

 

“I’m a secretary at the firm,” Aisling said.

 

“I work for Anthony Green.”

 

“Really,” muttered Gary, his mind elsewhere.

 

“What branch of law do you speciali se in?” she asked pointedly.

 

“Divorce?”

 

He sat up like a shot.

 

“Er, no. Conveyancing.”

 

God, she couldn’t believe she had the misfortune to meet another leering conveyancing lawyer. She’d thought Leo was the only one, a freak of the legal system. She tried out a frosty stare on Gary. It had worked on Michael earlier.

 

Gary got the message.

 

“Excuse me,” he said.

 

“I must talk to my wife for a moment. I’ll talk to you later.”

 

Not if I have anything to do with it, Aisling decided, abandoning her chair quickly and heading for the dining room.

 

It was nearly nine-thirty and most of the guests had arrived, mainly couples with a bottle of wine in hand. She’d spotted only two men arriving without female partners, one a very handsome Scandinavian type in his late thirties and the other slightly older, darkhaired and equally good-looking.

 

Arriving together, they’d brought champagne and a huge, feathery fern for Fiona who would, as Aisling knew, immediately kill it. The men

 

hugged Fiona, shook hands with Pat and went into the dining room to get a drink. As Maria would have said, you wouldn’t kick either of them out of bed for eating crisps. But the more Aisling watched them surreptitiously, the more she became convinced that they were a couple. She drained her glass of red wine and found Fiona holding court beside the bar, with four men around her.

 

Typical, Finucane!” she whispered in Fiona’s ears. The only blokes I’m interested in are gay and the only ones who are interested in me are lecherous or married!”

 

The dilemma of the modern single woman,” Fiona whispered back.

 

“I did notice Gary move in on you. I decided not to rescue you because I knew he was just your type. Actually, his wife has known Pat since college which is why he’s here, otherwise I wouldn’t have him in the house. He’s a pig.”

 

“You can say that again,” Aisling remarked.

 

“I don’t think he actually looked at my face once during our entire conversation.”

 

That’s what happens when you flaunt yourself, you trollop,” Fiona said deadpan.

 

“Seriously, you’ll love Anders and Peter. I’ll introduce them to you. Anders is from Sweden, as if you couldn’t tell, and they’re both brilliant fun. But don’t worry,” she added with a grin.

 

“I promise you, there are some lovely men coming later who aren’t gay, married or devoted to their mothers. Now, have another drink.”

 

For the next hour, Aisling had a whale of a time. Fiona’s clique of men friends were delighted to talk to the attractive blonde in the sexy outfit, while Aisling enjoyed a little flirtation, knowing that Fiona was there to bail her out if anything got too serious.

 

“If I wasn’t married, I’d definitely chance my arm there,” one man said to Fiona.

 

“Giles, if you weren’t married, you wouldn’t be interested in her,” Fiona pointed out reasonably.

 

“You’d be running after some mysterious married woman. It’s all the thrill of the’ forbidden, you know.”

 

Fiona dips, crudites and small bowls of black and gree ri stuffed

 

olives were going down a treat. Aisling had eaten far too much and was sitting on the corner of the settee talking to Fiona’s sister-in-law, Sandra, when Fiona tapped her on the arm.

 

“Sorry to interrupt, Sandra, but I’ve got this divine man I want Aisling to meet.”

 

“Goody,” said Aisling getting to her feet. She felt very confident and quite tipsy thanks to five glasses of Australian red. She followed Fiona into the kitchen where a man in an open-necked denim shirt and chinos was sprawled on a kitchen chair laughing and joking with Pat. He looked up as she walked in and her first impression was that he had the same olive skin as Michael, but there the resemblance ended.

 

He had the most incredible bright blue eyes, a wide, mobile mouth which was curved into a grin and chestnut hair worn down to his shirt collar.

 

“Sam Delaney, meet Aisling Moran,” said Fiona.

 

Sam jumped to his feet and held out one hand.

 

“Delighted to meet you, Aisling. I’ve heard all about you and now I want to hear your side.”

 

Everyone laughed, especially Pat, who was well on his way to being plastered.

 

“Nice to meet you too,” said Aisling. She took his hand and looked down, seeing strong tanned wrists feathered with coppery hairs. Was she imagining it or had he held her hand for longer than was strictly necessary?

 

She looked into his face and smiled a five-glasses-of-red-wine smile.

 

“Are you gay, married or devoted to your mother?” she asked.

 

Fiona snorted into her gin sling.

 

“No,” breathed Sam, leaning forward so that his face was only a few inches away from hers.

 

“I’m available.” “Mhe too,” said Aisling with a large grin.

 

“Sit down,” said Sam, pulling up a chair for her and positioning it close to his. Aisling sank onto the chair, put her empty glass on the table and turned to look at Sam. He was watching her, the blue eyes

 

taking in every movement. Unlike the lecherous Gary, Sam’s eyes didn’t linger too long on the curves revealed by her lacy outfit. But he looked long enough to tell Aisling he was interested. Very interested.

 

Stone-cold sober, she knew she’d have been nervous at the thought of chatting up such a handsome man. But the combination of wine, her new image and the compliments from Fiona’s male friends made her feel ready for anything. As Sam filled her glass from a full bottle of red wine, her normal inhibitions drained away. She felt attractive, flirtatious and reckless.

 

“How come I’ve never met you before, Sam?” she said, savouring the sound of his name on her tongue. Sam. What a sexy name.

 

“I could say the same about you,” he answered.

 

“Sam’s been abroad for five years,” interrupted Pat from the other side of the table.

 

“Working in Texas.”

 

Texas. Wow. That must have been interesting,” Aisling said.

 

She put her elbow on the table and propped her head up with one hand, letting silky strands of blonde hair hang between her fingers. She’d seen Jo do it and it had looked very provocative.

 

“What do you do?”

 

“I’m in computer software. I was in Texas for four years working for one company and in Louisiana for another two years,” Sam explained.

 

That’s six years,” said Pat, sounding surprised.

 

“I thought it was five.”

 

“I think we better mingle with our guests said Fiona firmly.

 

She dragged Pat off with her, leaving Aisling and Sam alone in the kitchen. Their eyes met and they both broke out laughing at the same time.

 

“I get the idea that Fiona is doing her best to fix us up with each other,” Sam said.

 

Aisling flushed and took a deep slug of wine.

 

“I know. Sorry,” she said quickly.

 

“I’m sure it’s a real pain in the ass having women thrown at you every time you come back to Ireland for a holiday.”

 

 

 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Aisling,” Sam said softly. She liked the way he said her name.

 

“I’m delighted they left us alone.

 

I’m enjoying myself. And,” he added, picking up his glass and holding it towards hers, “I’m not on holiday. I’m home for good.”

 

They clinked glasses companionably.

 

Tell me about Texas,” Aisling said.

 

“I’ve never even been to America and Texas sounds so exotic, so Dallas!”

 

“It’s not really like Dallas,” said Sam with a chuckle.

 

“It used to be, or so they tell me. Houston, where I worked, is a very cosmopolitan city, all mirror-windowed skyscrapers and Cadillacs.

 

But the oil boom was over in the early Eighties and the whole city suffered. So there aren’t as many millionaires as there used to be. None like J. R.” anyway.”

 

“Damn,” said Aisling.

 

“You mean there isn’t a Cattle Baron’s Ball after all?”

 

There probably is. There are certainly enough people wearing Stetsons and cowboy boots, but you don’t see many suede fringed jackets. It’s top hot.”

 

“Really?” she asked.

 

“Oh, it’s unbelievable. In the summer, you can’t drive with your windows open. You just keep the airconditioning on the whole time,” Sam said.

 

“Putting your arm out the window of the car when you’re on the freeway is like being hit with a blast from a hot-air dryer.”

 

“Have some dips,” announced Fiona as she swept into the kitchen with a tray of empty glasses. She took a bowl of taramasalata and a large plate of cut vegetables out of the fridge and left them in front of Sam.

 

“Are you having fun?” she whispered into Aisling’s ear.

 

Sam’s mouth curved into a knowing grin as he looked Aisling in the eye.

 

“Loads of fun she replied, never taking her eyes off his face.

 

“Maybe we should just have sex on the table and then they’d all be happy suggested Sam with a glint in his eye when Fiona left with a tray of dips for the rest of the guests.

 

 

 

“I don’t know replied Aisling, as though she were thinking seriously about the idea.

 

“Maybe we should know a little about each other before that, what do you think? Sex on the first date is one thing, but I always find that sex within the first ten minutes is pushing it!” He laughed uproariously.

 

Aisling couldn’t believe she’d just said that.

 

What the hell, she didn’t have to play Michael Moran’s quiet little wifey any more.

 

They scraped the bowl clean as they sat at Fiona’s spotless kitchen table and talked. Aisling found out that Sam was originally from Cork where his parents still had a small dairy farm near Clonakilty. He’d lived in Dublin for seven years before moving to Texas.

 

The money was incredible,” he explained, ‘even if the change of climate nearly killed me. I thought I’d feel at home somewhere like Texas because I had this idea that it was a rural sort of place, like home. Unfortunately, in Houston, the nearest you got to cows was in a steak house. For the first six months, I didn’t see much apart from the office.”

 

“But you must have seen lots after that,” Aisling said.

 

“Yeah, I did. I loved Galveston, that was my favourite place.

 

It’s this old Victorian town on the Gulf Coast, all pretty wooden houses and ornate Victorian mansions. And miles and miles of sand covered with this sea grass you can’t pick because it’s the only thing holding the sand together and keeping the ocean out!”

 

“It must be wonderful to have travelled so much.” Aisling picked up the last bit of carrot off the plate.

 

“It was.” Sam sat back in his chair, his mind suddenly elsewhere. On whoever he left behind, Aisling thought to herself. Why else would a successful man leave the States to come home? He must have been married. He had to be forty or near it and he was charming, funny and good-looking. No way a man like Sam would have remained single for long.

 

God, how did I ever think I was the only person in the world to have their marriage break up? she wondered. That was just my self-obsession and self-pity.

 

 

 

It’s happening all the time. Is there anyone out there who doesn carry the remains of their past around with them, memories of happier times, different times?

 

“You look like you’re lost in time,” she said softly.

 

He smiled apologetically.

 

“Sorry. You’re right. I was a bit.”

 

“You know, if I’d met you six years ago, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the kitchen she said.

 

“I’d have been in there with my husband and I’d never have flirted with

 

“I know. Fiona told me you were separated. He must be mad.”

 

“So must she.”

 

He grimaced and drained his wine glass. That obvious, huh?”

 

Aisling pretended to consider it.

 

“Maybe not to most people,-but let’s just say, I’m sensitive to that sort of thing now. I find myself looking at people in the supermarket, staring at their ring fingers and working out if they’re married, separated, whatever. It’s my little game.”

 

“You still wear your wedding ring,” Sam said, almost accusingly.

 

She looked down at her left hand, at the sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds and the slim wedding band she still wore. She was so used to wearing them that she couldn’t imagine taking them off. But why, she thought? Michael was gone. He was living with somebody else and he wasn’t coming back. So why was she still wearing his rings?

 

For a moment, she was back in McDowell’s on the day he’d bought her engagement ring. Thirteen years ago.

 

The sapphire ring suits you best,” Michael said, leaning on the glass-fronted case with her fingers held tenderly in his hand.

 

“I like the diamond solitaire,” she answered.

 

“I’ve always dreamed of having a diamond ring.”

 

The sapphire one has little diamonds around it,” Michael pointed out, sensible as ever. In the end, he’d won. He bought her the sapphire ring and promised her a ring with a solitaire sometime. He’d never bought it.

 

 

 

Aisling looked at Sam and shrugged.

 

“You’re right,” she said, looking into his eyes, wondering how anyone could have eyes so blue.

 

“I don’t know why I still wear them.”

 

She straightened out her fingers and slid the rings off. With all the weight she’d lost, they came off easily. She left them on the table beside her wine glass. Twelve years of marriage down the Swannee.

 

“We’ll have to celebrate,” Sam said gently, moving his chair right beside hers. He put one hand around her neck and pulled her face closer to his, so close that she could feel his breath on her skin. Then his lips met hers, softly touching hers.

 

For a moment, Aisling panicked. This was happening so fast.

 

Then she felt Sam’s arms reach around her waist, gently holding her to him. She relaxed and let herself go, feeling her mouth open under his. He tasted sweet and faintly bitter, the wine on his breath mingling with something else. Her skin felt warm where he was holding her.

 

Nobody had held her like this for so long. She’d spent so many nights alone in the big bed, only Flossie or her books for company. Now, she was in a man’s arms, a man who wanted

 

Suddenly, she wanted to go to bed with him. Now. This instant. Shocked, she wondered if she’d lost her mind, but no.

 

She hadn’t. She simply wanted him, hungered for him, as she used to hunger for jam doughnuts or ice cream. She didn’t care if she never saw another doughnut ever again, all she wanted was Sam.

 

“Aisling,” he murmured into her hair, his lips brushing against her neck and her ear.

 

“I shouldn’t have done that, but I couldn’t help myself.”

 

She arched her neck back, leaving her skin exposed for him.

 

He was a quick learner.

 

“I’m glad you did,” she said softly, as he moved along her neck to the soft hollow at the base of her throat.

 

“Oh!”

 

 

 

Aisling would have recognised Fiona’s voice anywhere. Shemade a sort of strangulated squeak and turned on her heel.

 

Aisling and Sam started laughing at exactly the same moment. She clutched Sam’s head against her neck and roared.

 

“We’ve been caught she said between laughs.

 

“I feel like I’m fifteen again and my mother has just caught me groping my girlfriend in the dairy.” Sam could barely talk he was laughing so much. ‘.I don’t think I enjoyed that so much.”

 

He moved up until they were face to face. He held her face cradled in his hands and kissed her again, gently on the lips.

 

“I never thought I’d be found snogging in the kitchen at a party at my age, but that was wonderful,” he said.

 

“I hope you don’t regret this tomorrow, Aisling. I’d like to see you again.”

 

“I’d love that.” It was true. But Fiona’s interruption had brought her to her senses.

 

A flirtation and a kiss in the kitchen was one thing. Going off with a man she’d just “met for wild passionate sex was another.

 

It would be wild and passionate sex, she knew that for sure.

 

The way he kissed sent ripples of excitement down her spine.

 

Aisling gently stroked Sam’s cheek and smiled at him.

 

“I better go. It’s late.”

 

It was nearly twelve and the babysitter said she didn’t want to stay the night. Aisling got up from her chair. Sam jumped up instantly.

 

“Will you let me walk you home?”

 

“Of course. But I don’t want the neighbours to think I’m a scarlet woman, so we better be discreet,” Aisling said quickly.

 

She had a sudden vision of all the guests from the party craning their heads out of Fiona’s upstairs windows for a better view of Sam kissing her passionately at her hall door.

 

Or worse, the boys seeing her kissing Sam passionately.

 

“Damn, you’ve ruined my whole plan.” Sam put his arms around her waist and grinned. He wasn’t as tall as Michael, she thought suddenly. Stop it, Aisling, she said silently. She didn’t want to think of Michael. She kissed Sam again. He tasted just as good this time round.

 

“I’ll just get my handbag,” she said. She hurried up to Fiona’s spare room where she’d left her things.

 

Fiona caught her rushing down the stairs.

 

“Are you going?” Fiona was doing her best to conceal a smirk but she couldn’t quite manage it.

 

“Both of you?” she asked meaningfully.

 

“Sam is walking me home Aisling said.

 

“Walking. That’s all.

 

So don’t focus the telescope on my house!”

 

“I’m so pleased you like him, he’s a dear man.” Fiona gave her a big hug.

 

“Phone me tomorrow and tell me everything, right?”

 

 

 

“I promise. “

 

 

 

 

 

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