A Gift to You Page 8

  ‘Of course you’re my dear woman, especially if you brought me some of those scrumptious cherry-and-walnut buns that I adore,’ he replied grinning, dropping Andrew onto the fine, hot sand and taking the picnic basket from her.

  ‘I made egg and onion sandwiches for you.’ She slipped her hand into his and his warm fingers closed over hers in a loving clasp.

  ‘What have I done to deserve such a banquet?’ he teased, as they reached their favourite spot – a small hollow surrounded by green spiky marram grass and with a soft bed of mossy fern to sit on. She spread out the green-checked-tartan rug, and he knelt beside her, taking plastic plates and cups out of the basket, while she unwrapped the sandwiches and buns, and the children raced down to the shore and screeched in delight as a frothy surge of white spray played around their bare feet.

  ‘Paula’s home,’ Ella blurted.

  ‘Aahaa!’ Her husband’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her, comprehension dawning. ‘Hence the “Am I your dear woman” question?’

  ‘Daddy, Daddy, come on into the sea, it’s warm, honest, Dad.’ Andrew pranced around them, scattering damp sand all over the rug.

  ‘Andrew!’ Ella exclaimed, exasperated.

  ‘Sandwiches always taste better with sand, ‘Daniel assured her, standing up to follow his son, who had gone tearing back to join his sister.

  He leaned down and kissed her. ‘My dear woman now and always,’ he said tenderly, stroking a finger along her cheek before he sprinted down to join his children at the water’s edge.

  Paula Nolan paced around the small bedroom chewing the inside of her lip. She felt terribly restless. Her mother was fussing and fluttering and making her numerous cups of tea and proffering apple tart and homemade shortbread and telling her she was far too skinny. It was driving her mad.

  She sat down on the faded, pink candlewick bedspread draped over the narrow divan bed that sagged in the middle, and remembered how caged and frustrated she’d felt living in this godforsaken backwater. A tsunami of long-forgotten feelings were back, threatening to submerge her. Why she’d let her mother persuade her to come to the annual Lifeboat Fundraiser Dance and Barbecue she had no idea. Well, she had, she supposed. She’d wanted to show off the new convertible; she’d wanted Daniel to see just how well she’d done for herself by leaving this little sleepy seaside village and making a life for herself.

  Meeting Ella today had rattled her, though. It was years since she’d last seen her. Then she’d been a spotty teen with greasy hair and braces. The woman she’d met today had a glow of health and happiness that shone in the gleam of her copper curls and bright, sparkling eyes that were devoid of make-up. Her arms and legs were golden from the sun and even though Paula had the most expensive all-over fake tan, it looked faintly orangey compared to Ella’s natural colour.

  She frowned, remembering the stomach-lurching sense of shock when her mother had told her that Daniel Finn had married Ella Russell. What could he have seen in the gawky teen who’d been so shy she’d blushed every time he looked at her?

  Shyness was not a trait she could attribute to herself, she thought wryly, remembering how she’d made all the running to get Daniel to date her. She’d been brazen, flaunting herself at him, and the more he resisted, the more she persisted until eventually he’d agreed to go to a dinner dance with her and they had become an item.

  Skinny, lanky, black-haired, Daniel with the piercing blue eyes had been the only man she’d dated whom she totally respected. Daniel, even at twenty, had always been his own man. When she hadn’t been able to persuade him to come to New York with her, she’d told him it was over. He’d shrugged and said, ‘Suit yourself. Good luck.’ And she’d hated him for not even making some effort to persuade her to stay. She’d tried to put him out of her head and slowly purged him from her thoughts, until her mother rang her in New York a few years ago to tell her that he was getting married. She’d been shocked. Even though she was dating a high-flying hedge-fund manager, she’d never forgotten Daniel and his rejection of her.

  Life in New York had got tough as the recession hit and her job in a high-end interiors-and-design magazine had evaporated when the publishers went belly-up. Being unemployed in NY was not for the faint-hearted, and she didn’t want to live off her hard-earned nest egg. Reluctantly, Paula had decided to move back to Ireland. She’d spoofed her way into a PR job in Dublin that was right up her alley, and had bought a penthouse apartment overlooking the seafront in Clontarf. She’d got it for half the price she would have paid for it in the boom years, so, all in all, she hadn’t done too badly.

  How had Daniel fared in the intervening years? she wondered, irritably waving away a wasp that had flown in the open window. He was probably florid and balding now, she thought nastily, as she stood up and unzipped her trousers and stepped out of them. She pulled her top over her head and studied herself in the long cheval mirror and smiled with wry satisfaction. A woman in her prime, she decided, as she turned sideways and saw her toned, supple body with not an ounce of spare flesh. Her highlighted-blonde hair was cut in a sharp bob and she looked every inch the sophisticated, successful career woman.

  ‘Eat your heart out, Daniel,’ she muttered, posing in front of the mirror, wondering how would he feel when he met her at the barbecue. She’d wear her black, strapless Karen Millen dress that clung to every curve of her body and his eyes would follow her every move, she vowed.

  But why wait until the party? She’d drive around the winding roads that lead to his stables. Her mother had told her that the Finns had bought Twelve-Acre Field from the Corrys. He might be mucking out his horses or what ever he did with them. If Ella could look wholesome in her denim shorts, she would look sexy and alluring, she decided, eyes sparkling with anticipation as she opened her suitcase. She was going to rub Daniel’s Finn’s nose in it. Let him see what he could have had, if he hadn’t been such a stick-in-the mud.

  ‘Aw, Maggie, it’s great to see you. Hello, darlings!’ Ella hugged her best friend warmly and swooped on the two adorable six-year-old twins who tumbled out of Maggie’s beat up Focus.

  ‘Thank God I’m here. The M50 was a car park and the N11 wasn’t much better,’ Maggie groaned, hugging Ella back. ‘Thanks so much for having us, it was unfortunate that Mam’s got the builders in; she said the house is a tip. Mind, my house isn’t much better,’ she added, following Ella into the bright, homely kitchen and gazing around enviously.

  ‘It’s so tidy.’ She sighed. ‘Mine’s a breeding ground for MRSA.’

  ‘Stop – your house is lovely,’ Ella chided as she filled the kettle and spilled a packet of chocolate gold grain onto a plate.

  ‘Is Paul coming later? I put his name in the pot, I was going to make a steak and kidney pie?’

  ‘Oh, yum!’ Maggie exclaimed, plonking herself in the chair and stretching.

  The girls raced into the kitchen. ‘Mam, can we go with Sally to—’

  ‘Go where you like . . . do what you like, just let me talk to Ella for twenty minutes. We’ve a lot to catch up on.’ Maggie waved them away.

  ‘Thanks, Mam!’ They couldn’t believe their luck as they galloped back outside to join their friends.

  ‘OMG! Look at my legs; they look like I slashed myself Maggie stared in dismay at her long skinny legs that had streaks of dried blood on them. ‘I decided I better shave them, it was worse than the Forest of Arden, and the razor was blunt,’ she explained dolefully, and Ella giggled. It was great to have her friend staying for a few days. It would be just like old times when they’d shared a flat in Dublin.

  ‘Paul?’ she queried again, wondering if Maggie’s husband was coming down from Dublin later.

  Maggie shrugged, and threw her eyes up to heaven. ‘Don’t know, is the honest answer. He’s installing some new software at work and the computer has to run all night. I’m hoping he’ll make it for tomorrow evening but I’m not banking on it.’

  ‘Oh,’ Ella murmured. She knew the other couple had issues abo
ut Paul’s workaholic tendencies.

  ‘Mam, can we change into our swimming togs?’ Maggie’s twins burst in thought the door.

  ‘What did I say? Twenty minutes for Ella and me.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Aw—’

  ‘Out! Out! Out!’ Maggie pointed her finger, and they left, grumbling loudly.

  ‘God Almighty, I brought you into the world; isn’t that enough for you?’ she declared after their retreating backs. ‘What do you want me to do . . . rear you?’

  ‘Maggie, you’re incorrigible.’ Ella laughed, as she handed her a mug of tea.

  ‘Well, we’ve more important things to be dealing with. I got your text about Paula. Tell me all. What does she look like? Is she as glam as ever or, by any stroke of all that’s fair and wonderful, has she put on a stone and got batwings, and roots that need doing, just like me? Sit down and tell me everything . . . now!’

  Ella did as she was bid and sat down at the table to indulge in a long-awaited, deeply satisfying gossip with her old pal.

  She saw him before he saw her and couldn’t help her sharp indrawn breath as she watched the lean, broad-shouldered man canter a chestnut gelding around the edge of a field. Skinny and lanky he most emphatically was not. Daniel Finn had turned into a real hunk.

  He saw her at the three-bar gate and slowed the horse to a trot. Paula swallowed and slid her Moschino sunglasses on to her nose.

  ‘Hello, stranger,’ came that familiar slow, lilting drawl.

  ‘Hi, Daniel.’ She stared up at him, noting the set of his jaw, the strong aquiline nose, the firm lips that were curved into a grin at the sight of her. She saw his strong muscular arms and long fingers that held the reins so easily and firmly. Her eyes trailed up to the hint of chest hair curling at the open neck of his checked shirt. Old memories came roaring back and she felt a lusty, longing desire for him that shocked her.

  He jumped athletically from the saddle, a man at ease with himself and at one with his environment. Most of her boyfriends since Daniel had been sharp-suited business types, who wouldn’t know one end of a horse from another. One had even begun dying his hair when the grey started appearing at his temples. Daniel’s short black hair had a sprinkling of grey that made him look even sexier, she thought wistfully, as she remembered how he used to kiss her slowly and sensually and—

  ‘Nice set of wheels,’ Daniel said admiringly, and she felt more than a tad piqued to realize that he was staring, not at her, but at the car, with a glint of appreciation in his blue eyes.

  ‘Work hard, play hard, I’m worth it,’ she asserted, perching her glasses on her head so he could see her expertly made-up eyes.

  ‘I’m sure you are.’ He grinned at her, his eyes sliding over her in a long, admiring gaze. ‘Are you here for the fundraiser? Didn’t think it would be your scene,’ he said, easily leaning against the gate that separated them.

  ‘Thought I should come back and see the old home town,’ she said lightly.

  ‘And has it lived up to expectations?’ His eyes twinkled as he studied her intently.

  ‘We’ll see.’ She slanted a sultry gaze at him and turned to walk to the car.

  ‘See you at the party, then,’ he called, as he mounted the horse, and before she had even turned back to look at him, he was gone, racing across the meadow without a backward glance.

  Paula’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. By the time she was finished with him, he’d be panting for her, she promised herself. And then she’d drop him all over again.

  ‘Oh, my God! Look at her – she thinks she’s on the red carpet!’ Maggie muttered, as Paula made her entrance into the crowded marquee. ‘She looks fabulous. Is there no justice?’

  ‘Great chassis, for sure,’ Daniel remarked admiringly, watching the other woman sashay over to some of the lifeboat crew at the bar and start talking to them.

  Ella smiled sweetly at him. ‘You think so?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘But not as great as yours.’ He grinned, swatting her ass.

  ‘Good answer, buster. Now go and get us gals a drink.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ replied her husband, who was looking particularly handsome in a pair of cream chinos and a maroon Lacoste short-sleeved shirt.

  ‘OK, look, there’s Paul!’ Ella announced, as she saw Maggie’s husband standing at the entrance, peering around.

  Her friend’s face creased into a grin. ‘Brilliant. Divorce averted for another week,’ she declared, as she made her way through the throng towards him.

  Two hours later, the marquee heaved to couples dancing to the strains of Elvis singing ‘Love Me Tender’.

  ‘You should go and ask her for a dance and put her out of her misery,’ Ella murmured against her husband’s shoulder. ‘She keeps looking over at us.’

  ‘I want to dance with you,’ he retorted, nibbling her ear.

  ‘Stop. My mother’s looking.’ Ella elbowed him in the ribs and he laughed.

  ‘Just for that, I’ll dance with Paula; she might appreciate me more than you do,’ Daniel announced, before making his way over to his ex, who smiled seductively up at him and slipped into his arms, draping her own around the back of his neck.

  As they danced, Daniel winked at her over Paula’s shoulder, and Ella smiled back. She was his dear woman and nothing and no one, especially not Paula Nolan, would change that.

  Her plan wasn’t working. He’d only danced with her once and he’d seemed quite unmoved by her sensual, undulating body as they’d moved around the dance floor.

  A new strategy was called for, Paula decided, as she lay in her soft, saggy bed, listening to the sound of a cock crowing and the racket of early-morning bird-song under the eaves. ‘Noisy buggers,’ she swore, burrowing her head under the pillow.

  The car! That was it. She’d offer to take him for a spin in the car. He’d never be able to resist that.

  ‘Sorry, I’ve a mare in foal and I’m waiting for the vet. I bet Andrew would love a spin, though. Just a quick one. Would you mind?’ Daniel asked later that morning when she’d driven over to the yard.

  ‘I’ve no car seat,’ she pointed out, utterly relieved that she could legitimately get out of that request.

  ‘Ah, don’t worry about that, just drive up to the house and back, it’s on private land so you’re fine.’ He pointed up to the impressive ivy-clad stone house beyond the paddock. Paula tried to hide her dismay. She didn’t want a little brat, who never shut up, in her car. What on earth would she say to a seven-year-old?

  She needn’t have worried, she thought wryly: he did enough talking for the both of them. Yap, yap, yap . . . Why hadn’t Daniel come with her? She’d worn a sexy mini and a low-cut halterneck top. What did it take to get a response from her ex? Paula fretted, driving up the long tree-lined drive that led to the house where Daniel now lived.

  ‘Are your lips not real?’

  ‘What?’ she demanded, coming out of her reverie.

  ‘It’s rude to say what,’ Andrew explained kindly.

  ‘Sorry . . . pardon!’ Paula growled.

  ‘Are your lips not real? Do they come off?’

  Paula eyed the little monster in the back seat with venom. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘My dad said your lips aren’t real. They’re bigger than they used to be.’

  ‘Your dad said that?’ She couldn’t hide her shock. She’d thought the silicone job was quite discretely done. The boy was unaware of her consternation and prattled on.

  ‘Yep, he said it to my mam. And he said your boobies aren’t real, either. He called them Barbie boobies!’ Andrew guffawed. ‘My Dad’s really funny sometimes.’

  ‘And what did your mam say?’ Paula probed, horrified.

  ‘She laughed and she told him to stop saying that and then my Dad said, “Let me kiss real lips,” and they did yucky kissing stuff. Uugggh! Are they real?’ he persisted.

  Tears smarted Paula’s eyes. How dare they. How dare
that stay-at-home little hick and that bog-trotting clodhopper laugh at her.

  ‘Spin’s over,’ Paula responded sharply, as she spun the steering wheel and did a turn that would have put Lewis Hamilton to shame.

  A few minutes later, she pulled up outside the stables, listening to Andrew plead for another chance to put the roof up. Daniel was leaning against a wooden fence, one long, blue-jeaned leg resting on the middle bar, listening intently to something Ella was saying to him. They both looked up as she jumped out and opened the passenger door to evict her young tormentor.

  ‘Have to go,’ she said curtly, as Andrew raced over to them and climbed onto the gate.

  ‘Thanks for giving him the spin.’ Daniel lifted his son over the top bar.

  ‘A pleasure,’ she said, drily, getting back into the car. She raised her chin, waved casually, and gunned the engine. She glanced back in the rear-view mirror and saw, with a lurch, that they weren’t even looking at her. Both were looking down at their son, laughing as he gesticulated, and she wasn’t even in their consciousness.

  Fake lips, fake boobs, fake life, she thought bitterly. There was nothing for her in Clearwater Bay. There was no point in staying.

  Later that evening, as Daniel and Paul cooked thick juicy steaks on the barbecue, Maggie and Ella sipped chilled chardonnay and watched the sun set over the gold-glazed sea.

  ‘It was a great weekend, wasn’t it?’ Maggie raised her glass and inhaled the salty tang of the sea and the aromatic smell of barbecue that wafted along on the breeze.

  ‘Terrific,’ agreed her best friend. ‘We’re so lucky. What more could we ask for?’

  ‘Wouldn’t mind a night with Hugh Jackman.’ Maggie grinned. ‘You?’ she asked a little tipsily.

  ‘A night with my darling hubby will do me just fine.’ Ella smiled as her husband looked over at her and winked.

  The Seventh Floor

  ‘Thank you, Saint Anthony,’ she murmurs with heartfelt gratitude, manoeuvring into a tight spot between two cars in front of the terraced red-bricked houses on Leo Street. Mostly, thanks to her entreaties to her favourite saint, and driving into town early, she is lucky on Saturday and Sundays to find a space where there is free parking. On St Joseph Street, across the road, parking has to be paid for 24/7. She has often seen people caught out, and ticketed, and felt sorry for them, They are usually unfortunates in cars with country registrations, who don’t know the ins and outs of parking in Dublin.