City Woman Page 2

  That’s a problem you’ll never suffer from, my girl, Caroline thought crossly. The trouble with her was that she couldn’t stand on her own two feet. Tomorrow she’d look at the jobs section in the paper, she decided. She wanted to work full-time again. That would be one small step forward. Deciding that there was nothing that she particularly fancied in the boutique, Caroline headed back to the car-park. On her way, she stopped at a phone and rang Richard’s office again. ‘I think he’s gone for the day, Mrs Yates,’ his PA said politely. There was something up. Caroline just knew it. The best thing to do was to go home, she supposed. She wished Devlin and Maggie were in the car with her: they always gave her a sense of reassurance, especially in the city traffic. Hands gripping the steering wheel of her brand-new Fiesta, Caroline edged her way timidly out of the car-park and into the fast flow of traffic around the Green.

  Richard

  Richard was glad the weekend was over. He had missed Caroline and the apartment seemed very empty and unwelcoming. It had been a lonely few days. Charles had gone to London the previous Thursday and wasn’t due back until later that morning, so he hadn’t even been able to spend time with him.

  All he’d done was take his mother shopping and listen to her moans. In the end, he was sorry he had ever mentioned the fact that Caroline had gone away with the girls for a few days. Sarah had seized on the snippet of information and like a dog with a bone she had gone back to it over and over, stating her opinion that it was not proper for a wife to go away without her husband in the company of female friends. It was just ‘not done’, and Caroline was behaving in a most selfish and unwifely manner, according to her mother-in-law.

  If Caroline was unwifely, she’d been driven to it, Richard admitted ruefully as he put some Alpen in a bowl, poured milk on it, and sat down to eat his breakfast. His mother didn’t know the half of it. No doubt if she did, she’d still find some way of blaming Caroline for everything. Sarah would have apoplexy if she ever found out about him and Charles.

  Richard sighed. It was all such a mess – himself, Charles and Caroline – but after all the trauma of the past, at least the three of them were friends. He wished Charles was home; he’d missed him these past few days. Something was not right with Charles. These past few weeks he had not been his usual cheerful self. And he was holding back from telling Richard something, whatever it was. Well, he’d call him in an hour or so – he should be home from the airport by then – and arrange to meet him. Richard was determined to find out once and for all what was the matter with his friend. Maybe later Caroline could meet them for lunch, if she was home from her trip to Rosslare.

  Maggie

  Maggie couldn’t resist slipping into Hughes & Hughes bookshop on her way to Dunnes foodhall where she wanted to buy a few groceries before going home. No doubt Terry wouldn’t have remembered to get nappies and the like, and although she had done a big shop before she went away for the weekend there were some items you never had enough of. She loved this cheerful bookshop with its elegant green fixtures and fittings. Since her novel had been accepted for publication, she couldn’t resist bookshops. Just think, in a few months her own novel would be sitting on the bookshelves, looking as bright and glossy as any of those currently on display.

  She studied the covers and titles of the newest bestsellers, approving this one, disliking that. Soon she’d be having discussions with her publishers about her own cover. A little frisson ran through her veins. This was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. Her own achievement, something that she had succeeded in, not as a wife, mother or daughter, but as a person in her own right. Maggie Ryan. Author. And today had been the icing on the cake. This very morning, in the company of the greatest pals a woman could have, her novel had finally acquired a title. From now on she would no longer call it the novel. From now on it would be called City Woman, the name Devlin had suggested.

  Maggie felt like dancing a little jig in the bookshop, but managed to restrain herself. No doubt her husband, Terry, would have something sarcastic to say when he found out about her good news, but that was his problem. In fact she was seriously considering not telling him for the time being. How she wished Adam was home so she could tell him. He would be so delighted and, after all, it was thanks to Adam Dunne, in a way, that she had got this far. His guidance and encouragement had been just what she needed at that time when she had been at one of the lowest points in her life. Smiling at the thought of his reaction, Maggie strode briskly out of Hughes & Hughes and on to Dunnes.

  As she pushed the trolley between the shelves she thought of the nice fat cheque that she had deposited into her newly opened personal account. It was lovely to have money of her own again. Not that Terry was mean. But to have money and know she had earned it herself was very satisfying. And she had great plans for it too. She popped a bottle of red Piat d’Or into her trolley. Terry liked it so she’d cook him a nice dinner tonight and make a bit of a fuss of him for letting her have the weekend with Devlin and Caroline. Mind, knowing Terry, she’d be repaying the favour for weeks to come.

  The thought came unbidden to her mind and the old familiar anger flamed as she thought of how he had betrayed her with Ria Kirby when she was pregnant with their youngest child. Yes, minding the children for a weekend was the very least he could do after carrying on an affair for God knows how long. Oh, how she hated that woman’s guts! That two-faced, conniving little bitch. Maggie had never known she had it in her to feel such hatred, such anger. It frightened her. But for her children, she would have left him and never gone back. But she couldn’t break up the home and take her twins away from their father. Whatever else he might be, Terry was a good father and provider. Mind, if her writing career took off she might very well end up being able to provide for them all herself. Anyway, that was all water under the bridge now, she chided herself. Maggie thought of Adam. Could she do to Terry what he had done to her? As she paid for her shopping, Maggie knew she was going to have to decide, and sooner rather than later.

  Terry

  Terry Ryan was working himself into a slow rage. It had been bad enough having to look after three kids for the weekend without this happening. Maggie was really something else, swanning off with that other pair down to Wexford and leaving him with the lads. It was all right for Devlin and Caroline. Devlin was a free agent and Caroline had no children to look after but Maggie had responsibilities and it was about time that she started taking them seriously. If it wasn’t gadding off with her friends, it was having her nose stuck in a typewriter writing her great novel while the house turned into a shambles. Novel indeed, Terry snorted as he paced up and down. Let her write her novels when she had reared her children. Hadn’t his own mother, and hers, had to rear their kids without any of this crap about having time for themselves and fulfilling their own needs. God knows, he slaved day and night to give them a good standard of living.

  OK, he might not be earning as much as Richard Yates and no doubt Devlin would be a millionairess by the time she was thirty, the way she was going on. But Maggie wasn’t doing too badly. They had a four-bedroom detached house in Castleknock. And in the posh part of Castleknock too! She had her own car, plenty of money for food and clothes, the fees for that blasted gym club of Devlin’s. What more could she want? Wasn’t she ever satisfied? She was getting her own back, of course. Ever since she’d found out about that fling with Ria, Maggie had slowly been turning the screw. First of all it was employing Josie, the child-minder, on Fridays so she could have ‘time for herself ’. Then she’d started attending some writers’ group or other one night a week. Was the woman ever home? She’d probably spent a fortune on the weekend, too. It was just a bit much. If she wasn’t careful he’d go off and start seeing Ria again. He’d heard she was back in town. Not that he was vain or anything, but he knew he was still a pretty good-looking guy.

  Now, Ria was a woman who understood a man’s needs. She knew how to pamper a man after his hard day’s work. Nice soothing ma
ssages, long lazy baths together. Good lusty sex. No excuses about getting pregnant and moans about having some time to herself. Ria had always made a fuss of him, always appreciated the flowers and champagne and little bits of jewellery he’d bought for her. It had been worth every penny he’d spent.

  Well, whenever Maggie got home – if she ever got home – he was going to lay down the law. Because she hadn’t been there this morning when she was needed, he had to take the morning off. Possibly the afternoon too if she didn’t get a move on. How was a man expected to run his accountancy business with this kind of carry-on? Well, he’d had it! She could forget this writing crack and taking off for trips with the other two.

  He marched out to the door to see if there was any sign of her. It was just after eleven. Surely she must be home by now and have got his note. Well, by God, he’d have something to say to her when she got here . . . if she ever got here. Terry Ryan resumed his pacing.

  PART ONE

  Devlin’s Story – I

  One

  Devlin sat in the Arrivals Hall of Dublin Airport, visibly impatient. She had left home extra early so that she could greet Luke off the plane instead of waiting for him in the foyer of the Airport Hotel – and now the damned plane was delayed.

  Once more she checked the monitors and saw that Luke’s flight would not be in for another twenty minutes. It would be at least a half an hour before he cleared customs. She might as well go and have a coffee. She could take another look at the figures for her meeting with Arthur Kelly, the Belfast businessman whom she was seeing later in the day. As she took the escalator up to Departures, she remembered that Woman’s Way magazine had an article about City Girl that she hadn’t yet seen. She’d buy a couple of copies and give them to Arthur, to keep for when they were arranging publicity.

  In Hughes & Hughes, Devlin hastily thumbed through the magazine. Her eyes widened with pleasure as she saw the pictures the photographer had taken of the complex. He’d done a great job and the place looked a million dollars. The accompanying interview was very nicely done and Devlin was more than pleased. She took five copies of the magazine and paid for them at the cash desk. Five minutes later, she sat drinking a cup of coffee in the lounge bar overlooking the apron and runways. Dublin was a lovely airport to land at, she thought proudly, as she gazed out at the tapestry of green and gold fields and the purple-blue haze of the Dublin mountains in the distance. Devlin liked airports. She loved the air of hustle and bustle, the buzz of arrivals and departures and the roar of the jets. Her impatience dissipated as she sat watching planes taking off and landing. She saw a Ryanair jet land and guessed it was Luke’s. In spite of his coolness on the phone the other day she was looking forward to seeing him. She just couldn’t wait to talk to him about her great new idea. Surely he’d be enthusiastic once he’d seen the projections!

  Finishing her coffee, she took the escalators back down to Arrivals and sat in a front-row seat waiting for Luke to emerge from customs. She saw him before he saw her and smiled to herself as she saw him stride through the doors. He frowned as he glanced at his watch and saw how late he was. He looked good – very good, she thought – in his casual grey trousers and soft grey leather jacket. Luke had a permanent tan, not the lounge-lizard look of the sunbed user but the rugged, weather-beaten look of a man who was used to being outdoors in all kinds of weather. Luke, who had once been a seaman, loved water and he had a sailing boat on the Thames, where he spent his precious and rare free time.

  ‘Hi, Luke!’ Devlin stood up and called his name. He did a double-take at the sight of her and then his frown was replaced by a broad grin as he dropped his briefcase and overnight bag and held out his arms to give her a hug.

  ‘I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you here. I thought you’d be dancing a jig of impatience over at the hotel. I was preparing myself to do battle,’ he teased, enveloping her in a hug. ‘Sorry I was cranky on the phone.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Devlin hugged him back. She had meant to be ever so cool, but in spite of herself she was really glad to see him. His gaze caught hers and then, taking her by surprise, he lowered his head and kissed her, a long lingering kiss that made her heartbeat quicken as to her own surprise she found herself kissing him back.

  ‘Luke, stop,’ she said, half-laughing, half-dismayed.

  ‘I don’t want to stop,’ he said with a grin. ‘Look, let’s do a bunk. You cancel your meeting and I’ll cancel mine and we’ll spend the day together and forget all about business and just concentrate on us.’

  Devlin, for reasons she could not explain, always felt panicky when Luke started talking about ‘us’. She knew he wanted much more than she was prepared to give. Ever since the disaster of her relationship with Colin Cantrell-King, the suave gynaecologist who had fathered her baby and wanted her to have it aborted, Devlin did not want to get involved again with a man. And yet she trusted Luke implicitly. He had treated her with such kindness after the death of her baby. He had been so good to her when she was starting up City Girl. He was a terrific business partner and if ever she needed anything, he was always reliable. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attracted to him, either. Just kissing him now had brought back long-suppressed memories of desire. Since Colin’s time, Devlin rarely thought about sex. Her experience with him had been disastrous and she had felt utterly used. She had gone right off men and indeed felt a deep distrust of them. Although she wouldn’t admit it, Devlin was scared: scared of being hurt, scared of losing control, and very scared of getting into a relationship with Luke Reilly because she knew if she did, she would end up falling in love with him and falling in love was the last thing she wanted.

  Devlin was quite happy with her life as it was. She had her independence and was in no danger of being hurt by anyone. Her present detachment suited her just fine.

  ‘Come on,’ he urged, his heavy-lidded brown eyes smiling down at her with an expression that made her breath catch in her throat.

  ‘Luke, you know we can’t do that,’ Devlin said, as lightly as she could.

  ‘I can, and you could too if you really wanted to,’ Luke argued. ‘We never have time to ourselves: it’s always business, business, business. And I’m getting damn well fed up with it, if you want to know.’ There was more than a trace of anger in his voice and her heart sank.

  ‘Luke, don’t be like that,’ Devlin pleaded.

  ‘Don’t you think we should talk about us? You know I want us to . . .’

  ‘Luke,’ Devlin said firmly, ‘we’re very late; here isn’t the time or the place . . .’

  ‘It’s as good a place as any, Devlin. I’m sick of this carry-on!’

  ‘Luke, please . . .’ Devlin said agitatedly, ‘I’ve only got an hour. I must be on that road to Drogheda. I thought we were going to talk about the Belfast proposal.’

  ‘I couldn’t give two hoots about the Belfast proposal,’ Luke retorted angrily.

  ‘Luke!’

  ‘Well, right this minute I couldn’t care less if you wanted to take City Girl to the moon. I want to know where I stand with you. I deserve that much at least.’ Luke’s eyes were flashing and the thin line of his mouth left her in no doubt of his annoyance.

  ‘Luke, you’re not being fair,’ she snapped, beginning to feel angry and trapped.

  ‘No, Devlin. You’re not being fair. And you’re not being honest with me or with yourself. Stop running away and face up to things. You could be as attracted to me as I am to you if you’d let yourself. Why are you holding back?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Luke! People are looking.’ A blush rose to her cheeks as she saw people giving them curious stares.

  ‘Let them!’ Luke was not concerned, but he drew her aside to a more private place so that the stream of people coming out of the customs couldn’t see or hear them.

  ‘Look, can’t we talk about this later tonight when I get home from Drogheda?’ Devlin said wearily. Why did he have to keep pushing her! Why couldn’t he just be happy with the way th
ings were!

  ‘Is that a promise?’ said Luke, his face stern and unsmiling.

  ‘If that’s what you want . . .’ Devlin said, thoroughly exasperated.

  ‘Don’t sound too enthusiastic, for Christ’s sake.’

  ‘Ah, don’t annoy me, Luke! Just knock it off. I’ve enough hassle without this. I don’t know what’s wrong with you lately. You’re always in such an argumentative mood; you never want to discuss business. I was dying to tell you all about Belfast and now you’ve ruined it.’

  Luke stared at her in silence and then he said coldly, ‘Maybe we should discuss business – as to whether we should continue as business partners. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. Not from a financial point of view but personally. I don’t know if I want to get involved in any new ventures. Maybe you’re right: it is too much hassle.’

  Devlin couldn’t believe her ears. Of all people, she never imagined that Luke would resort to emotional blackmail; she had always thought of him as one of the straightest men she had ever known.

  Disgust tinged her voice and disdain flared in her eyes. ‘Don’t try emotional blackmail with me, Luke; it’s beneath contempt. I thought you were more of a man than that.’ If she had slapped him in the face, Luke could not have been more shocked. She saw it in his eyes and then anger replaced the shock, an anger so fierce that she quailed beneath his gaze.

  ‘Is that what you think?’ he said through gritted teeth, taking her by the shoulders, his thumbs digging into her flesh.

  ‘Luke, you’re hurting me,’ she said heatedly. He dropped his hands immediately and drew several deep breaths as if to try and calm himself.

  Picking up his bag and briefcase, he said in the coldest tone she had ever heard him use, ‘Let’s end this now. My solicitors will be on to yours about dissolving the partnership. City Girl is yours. I want nothing to do with it or you. I’m sure that will make you very happy.’