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“He’s already got a visitor,” she smiles, “but it’s okay if you keep it quiet.”
“Thank you,” I say, “I will do.” So, Ronan turned up, after all. He must’ve finished Skyping his kids earlier than expected. It is a school night, Catherine must’ve wanted to tuck them up in bed. I stride down the ward. Why on earth has Ronan pulled the curtains around Nick’s bed? I suppose any moment now he’s going to leap out at me from behind them and surprise me. Typical Ronan.
I tiptoe around Nick’s bay. “So you couldn’t keep away.” I whip back the curtain, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh…” I falter, heat spreading through me.
The fair-haired woman looks up at me, startled. I notice immediately that she’s holding Nick’s hand. She flicks her long blonde fringe off her oval face and fixes me with a long, hard stare. She looks familiar but I can’t quite place her. Perhaps she’s a cousin I met in Malahide. Ronan must’ve told her about Nick and she’s come to visit. How sweet. Her blue eyes are red raw, thick eyeliner is smudged above her fake eyelashes, and her lipstick looks dull and worn. She’s zipped into a smart white coat; bare, shimmery tights cover her long, slender limbs.
“Hi,” I say cheerfully. “Is Ronan here?”
“Huh?” She plucks a tissue from the box on Nick’s bedside table and blows her nose. “Ronan?” I start to feel a little panicky. If she doesn’t know Ronan then she can’t be a relative.
“Oh…” I move a little closer, unbuttoning my mackintosh, trying to remember where I’d seen her before. I look at her carefully. Her features are symmetrical, her tanned skin evenly toned. She looks tall, even though she’s sitting down. She must be a model. That’s it! I’ve seen her in Nick’s portfolio.
“I think I know you,” I say, smiling. She narrows her eyes and frowns, “Are you a model?”
“Yeah.” She smoothes down her blonde hair, a smile playing on her full lips. “You’ve probably seen me in magazines.” I knew it, I never forget a face. Nick used to bring home fashion magazines all the time, especially if he had a feature in it. “I’ve been in Vogue a few times.” I’m impressed but not surprised, she is quite stunning.
“Anyway, nice to meet you.” I extend my hand but she doesn’t take it. I hate it when that happens; it makes me feel silly and awkward. I don’t know what to do with my hands so I plunge them into my pockets. Nick had always said that most models were tetchy and indifferent but I never believed him. I wrap my hand around the smoothness of the evil eye keyring. “Ronan called and asked me to visit,” I go on, “he’s…”
“Listen.” She raises her palm, her face tightens. “I told you, I don’t know anyone called Ronan.” I’m taken aback by her brusqueness.
“So who are you, then?” I say, a little coldly.
“I’m Nick’s girlfriend,” she snaps, her hand resting on her protruding belly. “Who the hell are you?”
11
“We’ll be eating at eight, Audrey, perhaps you can pop round a little earlier, darling, help me get everything ready.” Mum’s only been back on British soil a week and already she’s bossing me around. I don’t even know how she coaxed me into this dinner with their Cypriot property developer. I really can’t think how I’ll fit in. I don’t even want them to move to Cyprus let alone join them in a celebratory meal. But she cornered me the other day when I went round to see them – said George and Vicky would be there too, that I’d be doing them a massive favour by making up the numbers. I agreed, of course, anything for a quiet life, but I’m not sure if I can face it now. I wonder if I can spin her a line, tell her I’m ill or something. She hates being around people with germs, even her grandchildren are barred from her house when they’re ill.
“Oh, Mum.” I give a little cough, “I’m feeling drained. I think I might be coming down with something,” cough, cough, cough.
“Audrey,” she says firmly, “You can’t lock yourself away in that flat forever. Come on now. It’s been almost two weeks since you found that pregnant slut at that swine’s bedside. Now, dry your tears and come and join the land of the living.” My shoulders sag. She’s right. I should pull myself together and get on with my life. But as each day folds into the next I just feel worse. “It’ll be good to get out,” she continues, “meet new people. Mingle. Besides, the children are looking forward to seeing you.”
“Okay, Mum,” I sigh. It’ll be nice to see the kids. My nephews always cheer me up. “What time do you want me?”
“Well, don’t overdo it with the enthusiasm, will you.”
“Mum,” I warn.
“Oh, all right, all right. I know you’ve got your father’s temper.” Oh, here we go. Mum always blames my shortcomings on Dad’s genes, all my good traits I inherited from her, of course. “Let’s say four-ish…that’ll give us plenty of time to…” Fourish? That’s three hours before their guest arrives.
“Muuum,” I whine, cutting across her. “What are we cooking him, a five-course meal?”
“Audrey, he’s gone to a lot of trouble to find us several ideal properties, all at very good prices too. The very least we could do is cook him a lovely supper.”
“Why can’t you and Dad just take him out somewhere,” I groan, punching my passcode into my mobile phone. There’s a text message from Tina and a missed call from Louise, nothing from Ronan.
“Look, if you’re going to be like that I’ll ask your father to help me,” she says, indignantly. And I agree to be there at four. Mum knows exactly how to work me. “That’s marvellous, darling, I’ll see you then…oh, oh, and wait…before you go.”
“Yes, Mum?” I breathe heavily down the phone, hand on hip.
“Wear that lovely silk lilac top I bought you last Christmas, it’s very flattering, suits you.” This is a low-cut little number she bought me from Whistles. Why on earth does she want me to wear that?
“Muuuum,” I drone, “I hope you’re not trying to match-make me with this, this…”
“Daniel Taylor, darling,” she finishes in a cheery tone, “and of course not, he’s a happily married man. They’ve a daughter, didn’t your dad tell you? Lionel,” she calls out, “didn’t you fill Audrey in about our guest of honour?” There’s a crashing sound and then Dad’s voice screaming a string of expletives in the background. “Oh, your father’s fishing something out from the understairs cupboard. Four, then…and don’t forget that top.” And with this, she hangs up abruptly.
I look at my watch, it’s one-thirty. I suppose I’d better get a move on if I’m to be there by four. The phone is still in my hand. I look at it pensively, thumb stroking the screen. Scrolling through my contacts, I quickly find Ronan’s number. All I’ve got to do is press call. Then I can explain that I only behaved the way that I did because I was shell-shocked. I mean, the last thing I expected was to find a pregnant girlfriend by Nick’s bedside. Surely, he’ll understand that, won’t he? Ronan’s a decent bloke. He’ll be fine once I apologise. Won’t he?
