Every Time We Say Goodbye (25 page)

‘Seventy-four,’ Marianne told him excitedly. ‘I know he paid over a thousand for some of them.’

‘He didn’t!’

‘If he admitted that to me, then he probably paid more.’

‘Remember, what he paid and what they’re worth now are two completely different things; some of them may well have increased in value but others could be worthless.’ Johnny held up a small painting and turned it this way and that. ‘Never been able to make head nor tail of modern art myself; I think the people who pay thousands for it have more money than sense.’

‘I know nothing about art or its value, so it looks like we are putting our trust completely in your friend’s hands.’

‘I’ve known Frank since I was a boy and believe me, we can depend on him; a better man you couldn’t meet. Dear God, that’s ugly!’

Marianne laughed as Johnny grimaced at the abstract he was holding up. ‘I’ve always hated that; it’s like something from
Crime Scene Investigates
.’

He put his head on one side and screwed up his face as he studied the painting that consisted of red and black lines, blotches and a yellow circle. ‘What the hell is it supposed to be?’

‘No idea.’

‘Don’t you just know that’s the one that’s probably worth the most,’ Johnny sighed.

‘Funny you should say that. Dominic always said to me: if I croak it first, sell the painting but hang on to the frame; it’s worth a lot.’

‘It doesn’t look that special to me,’ Johnny said, looking dubious.

‘Still, tell your pal Frank that if he wants he can have the painting but to give me back the frame; I’ll put a nice photo of Dominic and the children in it instead.’

‘I’ll take it off now,’ Johnny said.

‘I tried, Johnny, but I couldn’t and I was afraid I’d damage the painting.’

‘Fair enough; I’ll leave it to the expert.’

They carried the paintings out to the car and then after saying goodbye, Marianne went back inside and closed the door. She took Dominic’s phone from her bag and returned to the kitchen. Rob had called and left a message while she was talking to Helen and she was itching to phone him back, but she was also curious to check Dominic’s last calls and texts. She’d do that first and then she would be able to relax when she was talking to Rob. She was still in a state of excitement after their special few moments on the canal bank. It had been such a strange day of highs and lows. The thought of Barbara’s pregnancy and its repercussions frightened her but the idea that perhaps Rob might still love her filled her with happiness.

She forced herself to concentrate on the phone and put everything else on hold. The first thing she did was to go to his photos; Barbara had said there were some personal ones there. She flicked through a few of Dominic alone. They all seemed quite businesslike; he was in his suit and wearing a formal smile. There were a couple of Barbara but they were slightly blurred and she wasn’t as neat and tidy and conservative as she’d appeared this morning in the hotel. And then there were some of Dominic with that telltale look in his eyes. Marianne sighed. She may have stopped loving him but it still hurt to see him so wasted. It was inconceivable that Barbara hadn’t noticed it. When it came to the extent of Dominic’s addiction she was either lying to them or to herself.

After studying the photos for a few minutes she turned her attention to the text messages. She was disappointed to find they were all quite innocuous but realized that Barbara must have deleted anything personal. She thought for a moment and then searched out Dominic’s replies; if she was a woman in love she would find it difficult to delete loving or tender messages. But although Marianne found funny and flirty texts, there were none that could be described as romantic or loving. Feeling slightly deflated, she skimmed the other messages and went through the phone history but could find nothing of note. There was nothing much to tell Rob but . . .

She picked up her phone and called, smiling when he picked up on the first ring. ‘Hi, it’s me.’

‘Hello, you.’

She could hear the joy in his voice and imagined him stretching back in the chair, hands behind his head and the phone tucked under his chin. ‘I enjoyed our lunch.’

‘Me too, although I enjoyed the afters more.’

She grinned. ‘The walk was nice.’

‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘I enjoyed that too.’

‘You haven’t changed.’

‘Neither have you.’

Marianne clutched the phone closer. She couldn’t believe she was talking to Rob again; it was as if they’d never been apart. ‘I’ve checked Dominic’s phone but there’s nothing much of interest.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me; she would have deleted it all first.’

‘But she wasn’t expecting us to ask for it . . . oh, damn it.’

‘What?’

‘I knew something was bothering me all day. She went into the loo just after we asked for it and was gone for a while.’

‘There you go, then.’

Marianne sighed. ‘I may as well give it to Dominic’s boss; he might recognize some contacts that I don’t.’

‘Good idea. Give it to him and put it out of your head for the moment; there’s nothing more that you can do.’

‘You’re right.’

‘I’m always right – had you forgotten that?’

‘I had, silly me. So, let’s talk about you for a change. Is there a Mrs Lee?’ she asked, keeping her tone light but anxious to hear his answer.

‘No Mrs Lee,’ he confirmed.

She could hear that he was pleased she’d asked. ‘Tell me about your life.’

‘Not much to tell. I’ve been concentrating on work and the last few months I’ve been engrossed in designing the house with the architects; I’ve really enjoyed that.’

‘You were always creative.’

‘Was I?’

‘Yes. Do you still listen to jazz?’

He laughed. ‘I do. Do you still go to those depressing musicals?’

‘They’re not depressing!’

‘They bloody are,’ he retorted. ‘It was the one plus about not being able to go out together in public; you couldn’t drag me along to one.’

‘I must check out what’s on at the moment,’ Marianne laughed.

He was silent for a moment. ‘So, you wouldn’t mind being seen with me?’

‘Not at all,’ she said.

‘That’s nice to know.’

‘Are you sure you want me working for you, Rob? Is it a good idea?’

‘I’m very sure and it’s an excellent idea; I never have bad ones.’

‘Ah, I’d forgotten how modest you were,’ Marianne smiled.

‘I’ll send you over the job offer and contract tomorrow.’

‘Great. I’ll get it back to you as soon as I’ve read it.’

‘Marianne?’

‘Yes?’

‘I enjoyed today.’

It had been one hell of a morning, Marianne was still in shock at the thought of Barbara having Dominic’s child but her overriding memory of today would be sitting on Patrick Kavanagh’s bench kissing Rob Lee. ‘Me too. Goodnight, Rob.’

‘Goodnight, Marianne; sweet dreams.’

Helen was in bed when Johnny got in. She wondered whether she should pretend to be asleep, sit up and interrogate him or just carry on as if everything was okay. The decision was taken from her hands; Johnny didn’t come looking for her. She could hear him move around, the clink of a glass as he poured himself a whiskey and a squeak as the door to the study closed. They never closed doors in this house, there was no need to; or there hadn’t been. Feeling miserable and worried, Helen lay thinking, her eyes tight shut, long after Johnny had climbed into bed next to her.

Chapter Twenty-two

Jo finished tidying the kitchen and decided to change all of the bed linen. It was after eleven on Sunday morning; Greg was off golfing, Rachel had gone to dance class and Di, having made a mountain of French toast, was back lazing in bed, texting her friends and listening to music. It was time she got up; Greg went mad when he came home and saw her still wandering around in skimpy pyjamas. And there was a party on tonight that she had been talking about for weeks; Greg would be delighted to have an excuse to ground her. Joanna sometimes tried to pinpoint when her husband had turned into such a killjoy. He had always been conservative and serious but they had still had laughs. Now with every day that passed he seemed to grow more and more like his bitter, sour-faced mother.

With a resigned sigh, Jo went upstairs and tapped on the door of her daughter’s room. ‘Di, you’ve got five minutes to get up. I want to change the—’ She stopped as she pushed open the door and saw the tousled bed was empty. She ducked out again and paused outside the bathroom. ‘Di?’ There was no answer but she heard the distinct sound of retching and she immediately went in and groaned when she saw her daughter on her knees in front of the toilet. ‘Oh, my poor love!’ She quickly moved to Di’s side and held her hair back out of the way.

Eyes watering, Di sat back on her heels. Jo rinsed a face cloth, rung it out and handed it to her daughter.

‘Thanks.’ Di smiled and cleaned around her mouth.

Jo put a hand on her daughter’s forehead but she didn’t seem unduly warm. ‘What’s brought this on, I wonder? Did you eat anything when you were over at Sarah’s last night?’

‘No, Mum, I’m fine. It’s just I’m wearing that thin cream top tonight and I didn’t want to look bloated. I really should cut out white bread; it always has that effect, doesn’t it?’ she added thoughtfully.

Jo stared at her. ‘You made yourself sick deliberately?’

‘Yeah.’

‘But that’s ridiculous, darling; you should never do that!’

‘But why not?’ Di asked, looking confused. ‘You do it.’

That evening after Di had left for the party and Greg and Rachel were watching a wildlife documentary, Jo sat pretending to read a magazine, still reeling at her daughter’s words. She hadn’t known what to say, how to handle it and ended up just telling Di not to be silly and to get washed and dressed before her father got home. There was a commercial break in the programme and Greg looked across at her. ‘Make a cuppa, love; are there any of those brownies left?’

She stared at him for a moment and then stood up. ‘You’ll have to get it yourself, I have to go out.’

‘At this hour? Where?’

She searched her scrambled brain for a reasonable excuse. ‘I completely forgot that I promised to help Marianne and Dot with the packing. I should have been there hours ago.’

‘There’s no point going all the way to Howth now, it’s almost nine,’ he protested.

‘I’m sure there’ll still be plenty to do and it would be rude not to.’ She dropped a kiss on Rachel’s hair. ‘See you later,’ she said and slipped out the door before Greg came up with any more arguments.

Jo didn’t really have any idea where she was going; she just knew she had to get out of the house. Without thinking she turned north and drove along the coast, Di still uppermost in her mind. Her daughter had not understood why her mother was upset; vomiting up food that would make her bloated or fat made perfect sense to her. She’d seen her mother do it so it must be okay. Jo felt consumed with guilt.

By the time she started to pay attention to where she was going, Jo was in Sandymount. She thought of stopping and going for a walk across the beach but it was dark, starting to rain and she’d left without a coat. And so with a sigh she decided to head on out to Howth; it would be hard to explain if Greg found out she’d lied.

Marianne opened the door and smiled. ‘Jo, what a nice surprise and great timing too.’

‘Why’s that?’ Jo asked, stepping inside, grateful for her friend’s warm welcome.

‘I’m by myself, I’ve just made a coffee and there’s some Pavlova in the fridge just begging to be eaten.’

Jo groaned inwardly. ‘Oh, no, I shouldn’t . . .’

‘Me neither,’ Marianne said cheerfully, ‘but I will and because you’re so well mannered, you’ll join me.’

‘Well, when you put it like that . . .’ Jo grinned and followed her out to the kitchen. ‘Where is everyone?’

‘Dot took them to the cinema. It doesn’t matter if the film is rubbish, Andrew is all excited at just being out at night.’

‘It’s a lovely age,’ Jo said, thinking wistfully of how sweet Rachel had been at five, although Di had been strong-willed even then.

Marianne cut two slices of Pavlova and put the largest in front of Jo.

‘There must be a thousand calories there,’ Jo protested in dismay.

‘Ah, a little of what you fancy does you good,’ Marianne grinned, tucking into her cake with relish. ‘If we don’t treat ourselves who will? Jo?’

Jo sat staring at her dish, unable to move. She was barely aware of Marianne talking to her until she felt an arm around her shoulders.

‘What is it, Jo? What on earth’s wrong?’

‘I’m so stupid, so bloody stupid. My mother always said so and she was right.’

‘Stop that; if she said that then she was the stupid one.’

‘But you don’t know what I’ve done.’

‘Tell me. Did you murder someone? Now that would be bad but not necessarily stupid; the world would be a better place if some of the nutters in it were six feet under.’

‘I’ve met a few of them.’ Jo couldn’t help smiling.

‘That’s better.’ Marianne handed her a piece of kitchen towel. ‘Now, why don’t you tell me what all this is about?’

‘I feel so ashamed; you’ll be disgusted with me.’

‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?’

Jo dabbed at her eyes and then stared at the sodden paper in her hands, too embarrassed and ashamed to look Marianne in the eye. ‘You know that I’ve always had problems managing my weight. I think it was once I left St Anne’s I just couldn’t believe that I could eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted; it went to my head.’

Marianne smiled. ‘For me it was the luxury of being able to have a long, hot bath full of bubbles.’

‘That’s why you’re still nice and slim.’

‘For goodness’ sake, you talk as if you are enormous and you are not remotely,’ her friend protested.

Jo ignored the remark; Marianne was always kind. ‘When I got pregnant with Di, well, I didn’t eat for two but for quads; I found it impossible to shift the weight afterwards and I knew Greg hated it. That just depressed me more.’

‘Lots of women can’t lose the weight and get the baby blues; added to the lack of sleep that’s a hell of a combination.’