Friends Like Us (44 page)

‘What brings you here on this dark night?' he said. ‘Slug pellets?'

She laughed. ‘No, something else…'

‘Really?'

‘Can I come in?'

‘Of course… of course. Come in… it's only slightly warmer in here. I've got the stove on in the office.'

He was looking so sexy, so handsome… she just wanted to touch him, to kiss him again. In fact, she thought that if she didn't, she might go mad.

‘It's over between myself and Rob,' she said quickly. ‘He left ages ago and then he came round today and came out…'

‘Came out?'

‘He's gay,' she said.

‘Gay? He kept that quiet, didn't he?'

‘Yes,' she laughed. ‘But it doesn't matter. We'd become just friends anyway. And so I'm sorry for running away that time and acting so strangely…'

‘But I like strange,' he said. ‘I thought you knew that. Especially your kind, the normal-strange.' He smiled at her and she was suddenly aware of the devastating effect he had on her; his blue eyes, the sheer, unbridled sexiness of the man. She was being born anew.

‘So,' she said, breathing in deeply, ‘I just thought I'd ask you something, you having a garden shop and all…'

‘Yes,' he said, raising an eyebrow.'

‘I wonder if you have any mistletoe.'

‘I do as a matter of fact. Great big bunches of it.' He wasn't smiling anymore, he was looking at her intently. ‘Why do you want it?'

‘Well, there's a tradition,' she said. ‘You might have heard of it? Where you ask someone you really like if…'

‘If they want to kiss?' he said.

‘You've heard it too?'

‘I might have.' He was still looking at her, his whole body rigid with intensity. ‘And I want to ask you… as the person I most want to kiss in the whole wide world, if, maybe, you would like to kiss me?'

‘I would,' she said and they fell into each other's arms and kissed deeply for a long time, far longer than tradition would have expected them to, far longer, in fact, than was actually necessary. But traditions are meant to be improved upon.

This is what it is meant to be, she thought, ages later when they had finished and she was wrapped in his arms. This is what it is meant to feel like, this is what the fuss is all about.

‘Come here, you gorgeous, sexy woman,' he said. ‘You're coming home with me.'

And she did, and much to her delight he had one of the comfiest sofas she had ever sat on. It was the sign, she now believed, of the kind of person she wanted to be with. And what was more, the kettle was a normal one, no remote control in sight.

‘Can everyone hear me?' Steph adjusted her headset.

There were nods and smiles from the group. Steph had spent the last fortnight planning this, her very first tour at the National Gallery, Representations of Jesus, it was called. The visit would swoop around the gallery looking at ten paintings in all, Jesus featuring in each one. She had thought it a nice one to start, especially as it was practically Christmas.

And there in the crowd was her favourite face in the world, smiling and giving a thumbs up. Rachel. She winked back. She and her daughter had already come such a long way together, and they still have further to go but the new arrangements with Rick now moved out, had helped all of them. They all seemed happier. Everything is going to work out, she thought. Well, everything is going to be a lot better for all of us.

Suddenly, she thought of Mrs Long, her old employer and mentor. She wondered what she would make of Steph's return to the art world. She reckoned she'd be pleased. Would she say, I told you so? Probably.

As the tour group progressed around the gallery, stopping at painting after painting, it seemed to be going well. Well-ish. She got lost a couple of times, brought everyone down the wrong corridor and then got a few dates mixed up and couldn't remember the name of Jesus's mother and someone had to prompt her, but she put it all down to nerves. And, incredibly, she even managed to make her group laugh a few times.

I could get to enjoy this, she thought, feeling giddy with self-confidence and trying to remind herself not to get carried away. And then, finally, it was all over. She felt drenched with sweat and high on adrenaline.

‘Mum, you were brilliant,' Rachel came up to her beaming, and she hugged her.

‘That might be overstating it a bit,' said Steph, thinking how nice it was to hear her daughter say this. ‘I got through it though and that's the most important thing. And I didn't trip. Or swear. So not all bad.'

‘I thought it was so interesting,' said Rachel. ‘I never knew half that stuff. I might do Art History next year.'

‘If you want, you should,' said Steph, smiling at her. ‘Anyway, what are you doing in town?'

‘Half-day… that talk thing was cancelled so I thought I'd come in and see how you were getting on.'

‘Okay, why don't we go and do a bit of shopping… I thought we'd put the decorations up tonight.'

Christmas was inexorable. Even if you didn't fancy it much, it always crept in.

‘Looking forward to Christmas?' she asked Rachel.

‘A little bit, yes. I didn't think I was going to, but I can't help it. It's still Christmas.'

‘We'll have a nice time,' said Steph. ‘It'll be quiet and a bit strange…'

‘Well, maybe we could still have it with Dad?' said Rachel. ‘He could come round for the day?'

Oh God, thought Steph. Could we? Okay, so he wasn't always a good husband (make that never), she didn't want Rachel to miss out on her father.

‘Why not?' said Steph. ‘The more the merrier!' After all, it was only one day and from the look on Rachel's face, it meant the world to her.

‘Mum, do you mean it?' Rachel looked delighted. ‘I was so worried about him on his own in that flat.'

‘Let's ask him. He would hate to be away from you.'

‘And Grandad, as well.'

‘Of course.'

Joe was dong okay, actually, thought Steph. Better than she might have imagined. He was keeping to a routine, walking Dingle every day and the entire neighbourhood had taken it upon itself to pop in to keep him company. There was always someone there, either arriving or leaving. Steph had suggested to him he moved in with herself and Rachel but he had told her he was happy in the house where he shared his life with Nuala.

‘By the way,' Rachel said, ‘Aoife's house is up for sale. The sign went up this morning. She's really upset. But there is no other way, apparently. Hugh's moved out and Miriam's renting somewhere.'

‘That was quick. I'm so sorry, Rach, I'm so sorry for you and Aoife. But I'm sure they will do the best for Aoife. Hugh is steady. He'll make sure she's alright.'

‘I hope so.' Rachel linked her arm into Steph's and it felt so right and natural. And so nice.

‘Listen,' said Steph. ‘I was thinking, would you like to come to Rome with me? Just the two of us? Next month, perhaps. At the end of January. We could go shopping, look round the galleries, eat pizza, it'll be cold but beautiful. Just wander around… what do you think? You've never been…'

Rachel looked delighted. ‘I would love to! Cool! As long as we don't go to any churches.'

‘That's impossible in Rome…'

‘Just one, then.'

‘Two?'

‘Deal.'

Steph was already looking forward to it, to rekindling her love with Rome and her biggest love, her daughter.

Just then a motorbike roared past them. Steph thought she recognised the blonde woman clinging onto the driver, dressed in tight black leathers.

‘Was that…?'

‘Miriam?'

‘Yes. Was it?'

‘It looked like her, didn't it?'

They stood there speechless looking after the bike. The figure turned around and waved at them. Miriam.

‘Okay?' she said to Rachel. ‘What's wrong?'

‘I don't know… it's just that… it's just that she doesn't seem to feel bad about any of it. She's just carrying on as though nothing happened. And all of it was her fault.'

Steph shrugged. ‘It wasn't though. It might seem it, but it's not. She was just part of the story. I was responsible too. I should have acted earlier. But things happen, in life, things go wrong and sometimes people don't deal with them well enough and then things get worse. Being grown-up is all about learning. You never stop, it seems.'

They watched as the motorbike pulled up outside the Merrion Hotel and Miriam dismounted, shaking her hair out of the helmet and adjusting her leather trousers as though she was hoiking up a pair of tights. She looked up and for a moment; Steph and Miriam's eyes met.

The driver took his helmet off, pursing his lips for a kiss. He looked old enough to be her father, certainly pushing seventy. Miriam hesitated and then leaned in to acquiesce. The man grabbed her bottom and gave it a hard pinch. His strength was impressive for a man of older years. She winced in pain.

Steph and Rachel looked at each other and laughed.

‘Oh my God, Mum! Did you see that?'

‘I almost… not quite, but I almost – almost – feel sorry for her.'

They turned to go.

‘Come on, I fancy a jumper, something with sequins on.'

‘Me too.' And the two of them went off to TopShop in search of sartorial cheer… which Steph paid for. A new leaf, a new start, she thought. A new beginning. This time, this year, I'm in charge. It felt good.

‘We should get up,' said Melissa. ‘It's practically the afternoon.'

‘I have been up…' said Cormac. ‘Working…'

‘And got back in again.'

‘It's cold outside. At least Rolo's had his walk. And you need feeding.'

‘It is nice in here… with you,' she said, thinking how easy it was with him, how perfectly they and their lives slotted together. ‘Let's never get up again. We could direct all operations from bed. Like John and Yoko.'

‘Or Morecambe and Wise,' he said. ‘Except they wore pyjamas.'

‘So not like Morecambe and Wise, then.'

‘Nothing like them. I was wrong, utterly wrong. For one thing, as far as I know, they didn't want to do this…' He kissed her on her lips. ‘Or this…'

‘I love you, Cormac,' she whispered.

‘I love you, Melissa.' He stopped and looked over to Rolo. ‘Strange. What's that on your collar? Come here, boy.'

Rolo jumped onto the bed. There was a square box, tied to his collar.

‘What is it?' Melissa asked.

Cormac untied it and handed it over. ‘Uh… I think this is for you.'

She opened it up, fingers trembling. It was a simple gold ring with two tiny diamonds embedded in the band.

‘It's beautiful,' she said, heart thumping, suddenly overcome with emotion.

‘Melissa Murphy,' said Cormac, ‘will you marry me?'

‘Cormac Cullen, I thought you'd never ask!'

‘And I've been waiting for
you
to ask
me
all these years!'

‘Yes, I will,' she said. ‘It would be the best thing ever.' She slipped it on and tears filled her eyes. ‘I love it.'

‘Now, come back to bed, Yoko,' he said. ‘You're letting all the heat out.'

For a moment Melissa was speechless. This is happiness, she thought. This is happiness. She closed her eyes.

‘I love you,' Cormac said. ‘Always have done, always will. You're not an easy woman to forget, Melissa Murphy, but you're exceptionally easy to love.'

‘Thank you for loving me and not giving up.'

‘Never,' he said. ‘Never, ever, ever.'

He was the kind of person who made the world go round, she thought. There weren't many like that, but Cormac was one of them. She'd always known it but she'd never believed she might be the kind of woman who deserved someone so good, someone like Cormac.

But she did. She really did. She just had to get used to the idea.

The Christmas decorations were up in the Horseshoe Bar in the Shelbourne and parties in all their forms were milling and spilling. Celebration was in the air. It was the night of the school reunion and Eilis went straight to the bar where the girls had arranged to meet.

There was the remnants of an office party which had arrived, as they always do, at the messy part of the evening. One girl was crying in the corner, make-up dislodged, her two friends talking animatedly beside her, oblivious to her misery. A man was slumped on the table, head lying on an empty packet of crisps, while two others kissed passionately. There was a moral here… sometimes you
can
start the party too early.

Pointlessly perusing the menu and already knowing she would have a posh gin and tonic, and a bowl of fancy peanuts (why not? It
was
Christmas), Eilis perched, waiting for Steph and Melissa.

She drank with unbecoming speed, feeling something quite, quite new. Excitement. Her business was to be called, she had decided, Greenfingers. She was going to call out to everyone locally who grew beautiful garden flowers and she was going to create a delivery business. It could, she thought, include other plants, seedlings, vegetables and fruit. But it would start with flowers. Local, beautiful flowers grown by the green-fingered, such as Rosemary, Pauline and Frank… and Charlie, and none of those flown-in, perfect specimens from far-flung climes. Greenfingers could, she thought, take off. She was going to meet with her bank manager at the beginning of January and until then she was working on her business plan. Greenfingers wouldn't pay very much at first but there was the offer of consultancy work from Mohit, so life would be on her terms. She was going to be in charge.

Earlier that day she had received a wedding invitation. Bogdan and Becca from the hospital were getting married on New Year's Eve and did she want to join them? She had declined, ever so politely, because she had a much better invitation. Charlie wanted to try out his new fire pit and they were going to sit in the garden, round the blazing flames, rugs over their knees, drinking champagne. And thinking about the New Year and their new relationship. She
couldn't
wait.