The Matchmaker (27 page)

‘Remember I told you about him at my wedding? That he was away travelling around Fiji with some friends and couldn’t make it home? He’s such a character!’

A character was right. She sure had her wires crossed. Was she that long out of the dating scene? Composing herself, she put on a slick of lipstick and made her way back to the table.

It made no difference: Ronan was the best company ever and told her she was looking gorgeous when she returned to sit down beside him. He entertained them all with the trials and tribulations of designing the album cover for a new rock band. ‘They had an awful name, looked awful and to be honest the music was dire.’

‘What did you do?’ asked Karen and Sarah.

‘We rechristened them “Ice House” and put an animated version of them on the cover. Rumour is the record company got the backing singer to sing lead vocals on their first single to be released.’

‘And what happened?’ asked James.

‘The album sold well, the single got lots of plays and last I heard they’d been offered a tour in America. What’s going to happen after that when people see and hear them live, God only knows!’

As the others began to order coffees and nightcaps she finished the end of her glass of wine and reached for her purse.

‘Don’t say you’re going already!’ protested Ronan.

‘Sorry, but with Evie sick, I have to get back home.’

‘When am I going to see these lovely pictures and stories of yours?’ he asked.

‘I could post them to you or try and scan and email them.’

‘Listen, I’m around all tomorrow afternoon, maybe I could call into your place to see them?’

‘Are you sure?’

‘My flight’s not till about nine. That way you can maybe give me a few pages to show Jilly.’

Sarah couldn’t believe his kind offer and gave him a big hug as she got up to leave.

‘I’m sorry about having to go home,’ she apologized to everyone.

‘Well, I’m worn out, so I can drop you off,’ offered Karen. ‘All I want is my bed at this stage of the night.’

She accepted the lift as she could tell Karen really wanted to get home and put her feet up while Mick was ready to go on with Ronan and James and the others and have another few drinks. They were all up for a late night and were heading for Leeson Street.

Sarah had really enjoyed the night out with a crowd, having a laugh and talking about grown-up things. When they reached Pleasant Square, she asked Karen if she wanted to come in for coffee.

‘No, thanks, I’m just too tired, Sarah, I’d only fall asleep on your couch.’

‘OK. Safe home,’ Sarah called, hopping out of the car.

The living room was quiet, the TV on but muted, playing an old Alfred Hitchcock movie; Angus’s skinny frame was sprawled across her sofa. He was dozing, his hair standing on end, his laptop abandoned on the carpet.

Evie was to her amazement fast asleep in her bedroom, her blanket gripped tight.

‘Hey,’ she called softly, resisting the bizarre urge to curl up on the sofa beside him.

Angus roused himself, running his fingers through his black hair, making the tufts of it stand up even more. ‘Hey, I thought you wouldn’t be home for hours,’ he said sleepily.

‘I didn’t really want to leave her too long,’ she explained.

‘All’s been quiet on the western front, promise,’ he whispered. ‘She had a drink of Ribena and a few spoons of yogurt. I think she’s feeling a bit better now that the spots have started to come out.’

‘Spots!’

‘Probably chicken pox or one of those kinds of things.’

‘Oh, God, Angus, I’m so sorry for landing you with something like that! I didn’t realize she was that sick.’

‘She’ll be fine, Sarah. I had them when I was a kid and I’m sure the invasion of chicken pox is probably spreading as we speak!’

Sarah thanked heaven for Angus being so calm and relaxed about something that would freak most guys out.

‘Anyway, how did the hot date go?’ he asked, sitting up and stretching.

‘Not so hot!’ she laughed. ‘It wasn’t really a date, as I found out, just dinner with friends – which was fine and a bit of fun.’

‘So no dancing and romancing the night away,’ he said slowly, staring at her.

‘No chance.’ She gulped. ‘I got it so wrong. Ronan’s a great guy but I am definitely not his type.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘Yeah, well, it just shows how crap I am,’ she admitted, ‘thinking because some guy talks to me and is nice that he likes me. No, what I meant is Ronan
did
like me, we’re friends but not in a physical way – he’s really great but he’s gay. And I’m such a klutz I didn’t cop on!’

Suddenly she felt miserable. She was so stupid and pathetic. Why she was telling Angus was totally beyond her.

He laughed, standing up and pulling her into his arms and down on to the couch. ‘Any guy who didn’t fancy you would have to be gay,’ he assured her hugging her close.

‘Thanks, Angus.’

‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘You are very fanciable. When I saw you in that skirt tonight I . . .’

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

‘You’re lovely, Sarah,’ he blurted out.

Was she so drunk that she was imagining what Angus was saying to her? Or had she so many wires crossed from lack of sleep and worry about Evie that she had lost her marbles?

Suddenly she felt his lips on hers, warm and tender, and she was kissing him back, enjoying the experience, kissing and kissing . . . mmm, it was lovely. She had forgotten what it was like to snog someone you really liked. He was holding her chin in his hands, his fingers on her neck, the kiss getting deeper and deeper, Sarah responding. She kissed his cheeks and his eyes and his neck and then his mouth all over again. He smelled lovely; his skin tasted salty and sexy. She wrapped her arms around him as he pulled her closer. A long long time later, they pulled apart.

‘Sarah.’

‘Angus.’ She giggled, it was crazy. He was her babysitter, her friend, he lived next door and he was Scottish and betrothed to the bonny Megan.

‘Don’t say anything,’ he said huskily, tracing her lips with his finger. ‘The situation will be sorted, I promise.’

She watched, still in a state of shock, as he got up from the couch, tucking his shirt in and reaching for his phone.

‘I’d better be going,’ he said, gathering his laptop from the floor. ‘I hope the patient will be a bit better tomorrow.’

Barefoot she walked him to the door, thanking him again for babysitting Evie.

‘Remember to lock up when I’m gone,’ he reminded her.

She resisted the mad impulse to ask him to stay with her as she watched him walk across the garden path and back to the mews.

Ronan Dempsey had been more than true to his word and had called at the flat on Sunday afternoon with a tub of honeycomb ice cream, a packet of chocolate flapjacks and a bunch of freesias. She put them in a glass jug of water, her brain still reeling, thinking about Angus and trying to cope with Evie’s horrendous outbreak of itchy spots.

Evie, normally friendly, was embarrassed, and was literally covered in top to toe glorious chicken pox spots. They were everywhere. Her eyelids, her lips, her head and face and all over her poor itchy body, and after saying a very shy hello to Ronan she had hidden in her bedroom, eating a bowl of the cool ice-cream.

‘Poor thing,’ he commiserated. ‘I remember when my brother and sister and I got them we were off school for a week and drove my mother mad trying to vie with each other as to who was sicker and had the most spots.’

Over coffee he’d insisted she show him her work and she could see he loved Mitten the Kitten and her antics almost as much as she did. He pored over the words for Mr Bones and her first few sketches for it.

‘They’re great, Sarah,’ he said, genuinely impressed. ‘They’re simple and fun and I’d guess kids of all ages would like them.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Can I take copies of
Mitten the Kitten
for Jilly? And if you have copies of
Mr Bones
, even a bit of the story and one or two drawings, I’ll let her have a look at them too.’

‘Ronan, I can’t believe you are being so kind,’ gushed Sarah, chasing around the flat for a big envelope and sheets of paper and hunting for the stapler.

‘Jilly tells me they get thousands of submissions every year but most of the stuff is utter rubbish. You don’t want
Mitten
getting lost in the slush pile so I’ll give it to her directly. That way at least you know she’s read and looked at it herself.’

‘I can’t believe it, my little book actually going to London to a publisher.’

‘Sarah, don’t get your hopes too high!’ he warned. ‘I think it’s great but I’m not a publisher.’

‘I know, I know,’ she accepted. ‘Everyone turned down Harry Potter so I can’t expect anyone else to like
Mitten
. But I’ve had great fun doing it and Evie and I love her!’

Ronan was the best of company and he entertained her with the antics of Mick and himself and the rest of the guys after she’d left them the previous night. They’d all headed into town to a nightclub and when they left at four a.m. taxis were scarce and those that did appear had refused to take them.

‘Mick and I had to walk home,’ he confessed. ‘I swear I had to almost carry him and then had him snoring in the spare room with me as he didn’t want to disturb Karen.’

‘A wise decision,’ confirmed Sarah.

When the time came for him to leave to go to the airport, Sarah wished that he didn’t live so far away.

‘You take care,’ he said giving her a last hug. They promised to keep in touch.

During the week Angus had studiously avoided her and simply sent a text to cancel their regular DVD night. Disappointed, Sarah rented out a copy of
Bridget Jones’s Diary
to console herself.

Ten days later Jilly Greene phoned Sarah from her London office. Sarah almost dropped the phone in shock as the children’s books editor told her how much she liked
Mitten the Kitten
and her art style and invited her over to meet her in her offices in London the following week.

Sarah screamed and yelled and jumped up and down like a five-year-old with the good news as Evie, sitting colouring on the kitchen table, looked perplexed.

‘What is it, Mummy?’

‘Something lovely has happened, Evie,’ she explained. ‘A lady in London likes my story about Mitten and wants me to go to London to see her and the art director. They might make it into a book, I just can’t believe it!’

‘But it is a book,’ Evie pointed out.

‘I know,’ Sarah agreed, it was already a very special book to the two of them, ‘but they might make it into a book that sells in the shops or you borrow from the library so that other kids will get to know Mitten too.’

Evie flung her arms around her and hugged her tight, caught up in the excitement. It was only about ten minutes later that it hit her: how could she go to London and leave Evie? What about the costs of the flights and a hotel? It was impossible, there was no way she could go. The negative voice inside her was battling against the excitement of something good and positive happening to her, a door of opportunity opening to her which was beyond her wildest dreams. Maybe her mum could take Evie for the day or even two days. And there were cheap flights advertised all the time on the internet, maybe she could get one of them.

‘Come on, Evie, let’s go up and tell Granny the good news.’

Maggie Ryan had been almost overcome with emotion when she heard about the trip to London and the possibility of Sarah’s book being published.

‘Sarah, I always knew you had talent. You’ve been drawing and painting since you were Evie’s age. Just wait till the others hear, they’ll be thrilled!’

‘Mum, I’m excited but I don’t want to say too much till I go to London and meet the publishers,’ she confided.

‘Of course,’ said Maggie proudly, delighted for her youngest daughter.

‘Mummy’s book is going to be in the shops and kids can read it, Granny,’ announced Evie, her blue eyes huge and sparkling, ‘and she has to go to London.’

‘Isn’t it wonderful news, Evie?’ Her grandmother smiled. ‘And maybe you will come and stay for the day with me while Mummy is away.’

‘Yes,’ beamed Evie, ‘and Mummy says that if I am good she will bring me a present.’

‘Well, that would be lovely, darling,’ said Maggie, watching as Evie disappeared over to the couch to watch children’s TV.

‘You did hear that poor old Angus has the chicken pox now,’ Maggie told Sarah as she put the kettle on for a celebratory coffee. ‘Apparently he’s covered from top to toe with spots.’

‘But he told me he’d already had chicken pox before,’ Sarah blurted out. ‘Honest, he did!’

‘Well, obviously not,’ Maggie continued, buttering some freshly made scones. ‘It must have been some other childhood illness.’

‘He must have caught it from Evie,’ she admitted, instantly blaming herself.

‘He’s had the doctor and has been very sick for the last few days,’ her mother confided, pouring two cups of the filtered coffee. ‘Apparently he’ll be off work for a while, it’s more serious in adulthood and you know what bad patients men make!’

‘The worst,’ agreed Sarah, remembering how her dad would act if he had a cold or a cough. They’d all know about it: he had them running up and down like Florence Nightingales tendering to his every whim.

‘Maybe you should call in and see if he’s OK,’ suggested her mother. ‘After all, Evie did give it to him. I phoned him and left him a pasta bake with cheese, but to be honest I didn’t go into the mews as I might get some kind of virus myself. Remember how sick poor Ita Brennan was with the shingles.’

‘Mum, you’ve got it all mixed up; you couldn’t get shingles from Angus.’

‘Well, I’m not taking any risks, much better you keep an eye on him, Sarah.’

Honestly, was her mother trying to meddle again? Sarah took a sip of coffee. Still, poor Angus! She was annoyed with him for ignoring her since the night he babysat and had wondered why he’d suddenly started avoiding her when all the time there was a perfectly good reason for his not being around.

‘Well, I’ll phone Angus later and try to see if I can help,’ she offered.