Authors: Sheila O'Flanagan

Tags: #Fiction, #General

Stand by Me (49 page)

BOOK: Stand by Me

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She nodded.

‘And how’s it going for you?’ he asked.

‘Better than I expected now,’ she replied. ‘Obviously difficult at first, but I suppose time does heal an awful lot. Except, of course, until I know what’s happened to Brendan I can’t really put it completely behind me.’

He nodded. ‘I read a lot about it all. A lot about you.’

‘Some of it true,’ said Dominique wryly. ‘And some of it complete shite.’

‘The stuff about your depression after your baby?’

‘Absolutely true. It was a long time ago, though. My baby is a stunning grown-up now.’

‘The charity work?’

‘The thing about charity work,’ Dominique told him, ‘is that so many people despise the women who are involved, and yet it does mean a lot.’

‘And then all that stuff about your husband.’

‘Hard to miss that, of course. Some of it true, but most of it bollocks.’

‘Obviously I’d read a lot before I bought your house. Then after I met you, I read a lot more.’

‘Can’t blame you for that.’

‘I know that the bits about you and him being in cahoots are rubbish.’

‘There’ll always be people who believe differently.’

‘It must be very tough.’

Dominique thought for a moment. ‘What’s tough is knowing that Brendan is out there somewhere and that he hasn’t even tried to get in touch with me. That he was able to walk out of my life without a second glance. I did so much to make everything right for him ...’ She smiled faintly at the querying look on Paddy’s face. ‘After my depression I was afraid he’d leave me and I wanted to be sure that he wouldn’t. So I never interfered and I never asked the questions that perhaps I should have asked. I let myself get caught up in being Dominique Delahaye and I forgot that there’s more to life than being someone’s wife.’ She shrugged. ‘Realising that about myself was tough. And not knowing what he’s doing is difficult, too. It’s . . . it’s like having a splinter in your finger. You can’t ignore it. It hurts all the time. Brendan’s still my husband, and not knowing hurts every day. But the rest of it - well, losing everything was scary, but in the end it wasn’t everything because,’ she grinned, ‘you bought my furniture and I sold my jewellery and my car and so I ended up with some cash, which was a good security blanket. And then I got the job and, you know, it’s all OK really. I was lucky.’ She took a sip of her drink. ‘He always called me his lucky charm.’

‘He was lucky to have you,’ said Paddy.

Dominique shrugged. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I think maybe I was the wrong person for him really. He needed someone stronger, someone to challenge him. I never did.’

‘You’re very hard on yourself.’

She shook her head. ‘No. I have to be realistic, that’s all. Anyway,’ she took another sip of her drink, ‘it must have been just as hard for you.’

‘Huh?’

‘When your wife left you. When you had to give up golf.’

She’d heard about the break-up of Paddy O’Brien’s marriage from the girls at the golf club. It had been a whirlwind romance but the marriage had been nearly as short-lived. They had no children.

‘Our lives were going in opposite directions,’ he said. ‘That’s why our marriage broke up. Oh, and the fact that she was bonking her personal trainer. Those things tend to undermine a relationship.’

Dominique looked at him sympathetically.

‘I was more gutted about having to give up golf, to be honest,’ he admitted. ‘I had dreams about being a top pro. Foolish dreams, probably. I was never that good. But in the end it’s turned out OK, because I like course design and it’s given me a good living.’

‘Survivors, then,’ she said. ‘Both of us.’

‘I’ll drink to that.’

And they clinked their glasses together.

She met him for dinner again the following weekend. And again a few days later, when he invited her to a concert at the O2. She’d said she liked classical guitar, he reminded her, and this show was supposed to be wonderful. It was. She really enjoyed it. And enjoyed the drink with him afterwards.

Then he went to South Africa for a fortnight, and she missed him.

When Maeve asked about her relationship with Paddy O’Brien, Dominique replied that it wasn’t so much a relationship as a friendship. Maeve looked disgusted at that and said that Dominique didn’t need a friend, she needed a lover. And Dominique laughed and said that a lover was the last thing she needed in her life right now. That love clouded your judgement. She was fine just the way she was.

But she kissed him when he returned from South Africa. It had been the first time since she’d married Brendan that she’d kissed someone other than a Delahaye on the lips. And she’d liked it.

‘God Almighty, it’s just a party. You don’t need to renovate the whole house!’ Maeve, who’d called to see Dominique the week before the party, looked around in her astonishment. Dominique had already asked if she minded her doing a bit of DIY around the place, and Maeve had said not at all, but if she was doing anything permanent to let her know, because she’d pay for it. At which Dominique had guffawed and told her not to be silly; that anything she wanted to do was for her own enjoyment.

‘D’you like it?’

‘It’s lovely,’ said Maeve as she took in the fresh paintwork and the delicate curtain poles over which Dominique had draped swathes of muslin. ‘You have an eye for this, Domino. I wish I’d seen Atlantic View in real life instead of through the pages of glossy magazines.’

Dominique smiled. ‘I wish you had too,’ she said. ‘It was the loveliest house in the world.’

‘Do you miss it?’

‘Sometimes,’ admitted Dominique. ‘But this is where I live now and I’m really happy here.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Maeve. ‘We’re happy having you as our tenant.’

‘I’ll try not to let the party-goers trash the place,’ Dominique told her lightly, and Maeve laughed.

‘I guess we’re all well past our trashing days,’ she said. ‘Though you, Dominique Brady, have a glow about you that’s knocked about ten years off you.’

‘Rubbish.’ Dominique adjusted the muslin.

‘Totally glowy,’ said Maeve. ‘And all thanks to our Mr O’Brien.’

‘I enjoy myself with him,’ admitted Dominique. ‘He’s good fun.’

‘About time you had a bit of fun,’ agreed Maeve. ‘I hope he’s good in bed too.’

‘Maeve Mulligan!’ Dominique felt herself blush.

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t slept with him yet?’ Maeve looked astonished.

‘We’ve been out together fewer than a dozen times,’ said Dominique.

Maeve roared with laughter. ‘Did Brendan have to wait that long before he struck lucky?’

‘Of course not.’ Dominique was flustered. ‘But it’s different with Paddy. Like I said, Maeve, he’s a friend.’

‘My poor delusional Domino.’ Maeve smiled at her. ‘Whatever you say, sweetie. Whatever you say.’

She could feel the old buzz of excitement returning as she arranged the party, even though it didn’t need the kind of strategic planning that either her charity events or her work at Glenmallon called for. This was a much more casual affair altogether. Nevertheless, she wanted everything to be perfect. And that was why she had arranged for caterers and why she’d set up a spreadsheet to keep track of everything that needed to be organised, even though she really could’ve done it all in her head without breaking sweat.

She looked around her now. The house looked great and so did the back garden. Well, not a garden exactly. At the time the houses had been built, the paved area behind them would have been simply called a yard, but nobody used that phrase any more. Courtyard, she thought, although that implied something grander and bigger. The sun was slanting into it, keeping the flagstones warm, dappling through the bamboo grasses that had been planted in one corner and brightening the flowers in the raised bed along the side wall. Dominique had set up a bar beside the bamboos, hoping that the weather forecast, which had been for a clear fine day and an equally clear night, was accurate and that people could spend most of their time outdoors. Out of all of the parties she’d planned, she’d always felt the outdoors ones had turned out to be the most fun.

She peeped inside the fridge, conceding that the caterers had done a good job with the food and that the selection was excellent. The wine chiller was really handy too. It was touches like that, Dominique thought, that made a good company great. If she’d still been part of the charity circuit, she’d have been giving them lots more business in the future.

The doorbell rang. It was Kelly, who was staying with her for the weekend, but who’d visited her grandparents for the afternoon. Dominique had invited Evelyn and Seamus to the party but they’d declined.

‘Not because I don’t want to come,’ said Evelyn when she spoke to Dominique on the phone. ‘But because your dad isn’t really up to crowds of people any more.’

Dominique hadn’t really expected them to come, but she’d been touched by her mother’s excuse. Years ago, Evelyn would have considered a party to be a waste of time and money. Actually, thought Dominique, she probably still did, but at least she didn’t say so out loud.

‘How’s it going?’ Kelly’s voice was exceptionally bright and cheerful.

Dominique knew she was cheerful because her latest boyfriend, Charlie, was staying with them for the weekend. Kelly had been going out with him for three months, and it was the most serious relationship she’d ever had.

‘But don’t worry,’ Kelly had said to Dominique the first weekend she went away with him. ‘I won’t do anything stupid like get pregnant and ruin my life.’

‘Getting pregnant with you didn’t ruin my life,’ Dominique told her calmly. ‘My life is still a work in progress.’

‘I didn’t mean . . . I wasn’t talking about you!’ Kelly looked dismayed.

‘I know you didn’t,’ said Dominique and hugged her.

‘Has Charlie arrived yet?’ Kelly asked her now as she came into the house. Her boyfriend hadn’t come with her on the visit to Evelyn and Seamus but had gone into town instead.

‘No,’ said Dominique. ‘So you’ve plenty of time to make yourself gorgeous for him.’

Kelly pulled a face. ‘He has to love me for how I am,’ she said, which made Dominique laugh.

‘How were Gran and Gramps?’ she asked.

‘Oh, great.’

This time Dominique could hear a slight hesitation in Kelly’s voice.

‘What’s up?’

‘Up? What d’you mean?’

‘Something’s up. I can tell.’

Kelly sighed. ‘How do mothers do that?’ she asked irritably.

‘Mammy radar.’

‘Well I hope I get it too. I’ll make my kids’ lives a misery.’

Dominique laughed. ‘So?’ she said. ‘Tell me.’