The Matchmaker (32 page)

Anna had finally got around to inviting her sisters for dinner. Entertaining was never high on her list of priorities but simple fairness had finally dictated it was her turn to cook for them. It was a pretty rare event and was partly fuelled by the need to meet up to decide what to get their mother for her birthday. Maggie Ryan had been dropping massive hints about coming along too but the fact that she was babysitting Evie had at last given them the chance to get together on their own.

‘Mum’s so happy about sorting out the arrangement with Oscar and Irina,’ said Grace as she settled herself into Anna’s living room. ‘She just loves meddling in people’s lives.’

‘Irina had Oscar out for a stroll on his crutches in the park yesterday,’ said Sarah. ‘Evie and I met them and he’s so happy to be home again.’

‘Mum’s intentions are good’ – Grace laughed – ‘but she told me last week that I shouldn’t be tempted to use fake tan and that men prefer women with a natural complexion.’

‘Ouch!’

‘Honestly, my natural complexion is ghostly pale; people would think I was a corpse if I didn’t slap a bit of colour or bronzer on.’

‘She said I was letting myself go,’ added Anna, ‘and gave me an article she’d cut out of a magazine about makeovers!’

‘She dropped a hint to me that I needed to get a haircut or everyone would think that Evie’s mum was a hippy.’

‘She didn’t!’

‘She did! But she gave me the money to go to Joseph’s for a cut,’ admitted Sarah. ‘I’d put off going for ages because I wanted to get Evie a new pair of shoes and a skirt I saw in town, but Mum said that my looking good was as important as Evie looking nice.’

‘That’s true,’ each sister agreed, wondering how on earth it was that mothers always seemed to know best.

Glancing around her small sitting room Anna was glad that she had made the effort for this sisterly meal. She’d cleared everything away and covered the bed in the small spare room with all the bundles of papers and books she wanted to hide. Candles and tea-lights burned on the table and on the mantelpiece over the fireplace and on one of her bookshelves. A bunch of tall delphiniums made a splash in that lovely glass vase Grace had given her, and she had finally got around to hanging the painting of a smudgy bunch of weird daisies that her artist friend Tanya had done, along with the black and white graphic of a boy on a bicycle that she’d bought at the opening of an exhibition by Lars Linney, a Swedish artist who’d moved to Ireland. The smell of the lemon chicken and rice pilaf she’d made filled the air and she topped up the glasses with more wine as she finished laying the small circular table, which usually served as her desk, where they were going to eat.

‘Everything looks and smells so lovely,’ said Grace approvingly.

Anna smiled gratefully, glad that her humble abode and entertaining skills had satisfied her sister’s extremely high standards.

‘Mum is set on finding a match for us all, you know,’ Grace went on, sipping her Sauvignon. ‘She believes that somewhere out there is the perfect man for each of us.’

‘She’s such a Mrs Bennet trying to scheme and find a husband for her poor spinster daughters.’

‘Mrs Bennet?’

‘
Pride and Prejudice
,’ Anna reminded Sarah.

‘Oh I loved that book, we did it in school. The whole class wanted to meet Mr Darcy, Sister Veronica included.’

‘God, you lot used to give that poor nun such a hard time,’ teased Anna.

‘She was such a romantic,’ Sarah protested. ‘She used to read Mills and Boons!’

‘Well, there are no Darcys in this neck of the woods, and having an interfering mother ready to fling you at the first stranger that comes along at our age is—’

‘Embarrassing.’

‘Cringe-making.’

‘To say the least,’ agreed Grace. ‘She doesn’t understand you just don’t go and meet someone out of the blue like that and fall in love.’

‘Definitely.’

‘That’s how she met Dad,’ Sarah reminded them.

‘Things were different then!’

‘Guys were different then.’

‘That was a century ago,’ giggled Grace.

‘Pity,’ said Sarah, her expression softening as she remembered how her father would go and kiss her mother in the kitchen, stand behind her when she was cooking and sneak his arms around her, ignoring her protests about hot pans and pots, and kiss her and nibble the nape of her neck.

‘But it
is
different nowadays, everyone is busier, there’s such pressure on our time with work and socializing and networking with people, most of us are too wrecked to bother getting to know some random stranger,’ insisted Grace, dunking a tortilla chip in the creamy garlic dip, trying not to sound bitter. She was secretly hurt by the fact that she hadn’t heard a word from Mark, not even a text message. It was as if the Saturday night in her apartment had never happened.

‘I read in a report somewhere that men have no intention of settling down till careers and travel and finance and houses have all been sorted,’ snorted Anna, ‘and that women are pretty far down their to-do list except for sex.’

‘Mmmm,’ they agreed. ‘Mum just hasn’t a clue!’

‘Though it would be nice to meet someone,’ Sarah said wistfully, cradling her glass. ‘Not just for Evie’s sake but for mine. You kind of get fed up being on your own.’

‘You’re not on your own,’ protested her sisters loyally. ‘You’ve got us.’

‘I know.’ She smiled, not wanting to admit that it wasn’t the same thing at all as having a nice man to love her and to love.

The chicken had turned out perfectly and Anna served it with a tossed salad and rice, all of them starving as they tucked in.

‘Delish,’ Sarah congratulated her, taking second helpings. ‘That chicken is melt in your mouth.’

‘Thanks,’ said Anna, grateful that she had for once had the patience to follow the recipe and taken care instead of cooking in her usual slapstick fashion, which only led to culinary disasters. Next time she saw Rob she intended cooking this dish for him, to show him that she had some domestic skills.

‘So what are we going to do for Mum’s birthday and what will we give her?’ Anna asked as she opened another bottle of wine.

They tossed around a variety of ideas, before finally settling on a pampering treat.

‘Mum loves facials and massages and all those kind of treats,’ Sarah mused.

‘Then what about a fancy spa pampering weekend in one of those new places?’ suggested Grace. ‘That one, Anua, in Wicklow, looks pretty amazing!’

‘Would she go?’

‘Of course she would. We could give her a voucher for two people and maybe she could bring Kitty or one of her friends.’

‘She’d love that.’ Anna was positive. ‘Anua overlooks a lake and there are lovely walks and amazing pools. I saw it on a TV programme last month and the whole place looked fabulous.’

‘That’s sorted then, I’ll phone and organize it tomorrow,’ said Grace. ‘We’ll combine and give it to her between us. We can each put in a bit. What about booking Roly’s for her birthday lunch? She always loves it there and it means Evie can come along too.’

‘OK, time for dessert.’ Anna smiled nervously as she collected the empty plates and disappeared to the galley kitchen to take the sticky toffee pudding she’d made out of the oven. She’d never made it before and wasn’t sure how it would turn out, but it looked great. She sighed with relief, grabbed the vanilla ice-cream from the freezer and brought them to the table.

Her sisters greeted the pudding with raptures, leaving Anna totally bowled over by the satisfaction of creating a perfect meal as she watched her sisters lick their bowls in utter silence.

For their part Sarah and Grace were surprised by Anna’s sudden conversion to the delights of cookery, which she had resisted for so long.

‘Well done!’ they congratulated her, both now definitely convinced that Rob O’Neill was working some kind of transformation on Anna.

Sarah had been basking in happiness ever since she came back from London. She was feeling better about herself than she had in a long, long time; instead of feeling a failure she had begun to realize that writing and illustrating books for children was something she was good at and if she was prepared to work hard at it it could possibly become her career.

She had called at the mews all excited to tell Angus her good news about the book and the drama about Evie’s arm, and was disappointed to find he wasn’t there. She had left a message on his phone and sent him a text, only to be disappointed by a simple
congratulations
reply. He was in Scotland for a few weeks, he told her, and wasn’t quite sure when he’d be back. She was hurt. She liked Angus and she thought that he liked her too. Well, if he wanted to play it cool after the night he babysat and act like nothing had happened between them, then that was fine with her! Let him have his life in Edinburgh with Megan, their perfect couple life. She was used to guys thinking she was fair game because she was a single parent, used to constantly being on her own! She didn’t need a boyfriend or a man in her life to make her feel good. She had Evie and at long last things were looking up for her.

Mrs Boland, the school principal, and the rest of the school staff were delighted for her and she sensed a new respect from them since her trip to the UK.

Evie was due to start her school holidays soon and Sarah was looking forward to her annual trip to the cottage in Connemara with her mum and Evie. She loved the summer and maybe if some of her publishing money came through she could afford to take Evie away to Eurodisney for a weekend, give her a real treat.

She had stayed up late watching a weepy love story, and was just wondering why she put herself through emotional turmoil when she already had enough of it in her own life, when she heard a commotion out in the back yard. Maybe it was a cat or a fox – or a prowler! She jumped up anxiously from the couch, checking the back door to make sure that it was locked.

She switched on the outside light and peeped out of the window, prepared to catch the burglar or intruder in the act, only to see Angus Hamilton blinking at her instead, looking much the worse for wear. He had stumbled over a pair of pink roller skates that Evie had abandoned on the path and was slumped on the ground near the washing line.

‘Oh Angus, I’m sorry,’ she apologized, unbolting the door and rushing out to him. ‘I told Evie to put her skates away. Are you hurt?’

‘Don’t think so,’ he said slowly, patting his thighs and side. ‘Nothing broken anyway,’ he added, trying to stand up.

She could smell beer on his breath as she went to help him and he looked shattered. He’d dropped his bag and laptop case on the grass. He must have just got back from Scotland and gone drinking somewhere en route home. He looked stressed as well as tired, and his jet-black hair fell over his face as he got up and tried to brush himself off.

‘Everything OK?’ she asked.

‘I’ve had better weeks.’ He grimaced. ‘A fortnight in head office is a bit of a head-wrecker and I had something important to sort out with Megan.’

‘Come on, let’s get you home,’ she said, lifting his bag and computer case and getting him to follow her along the path to the mews. She watched as he turned the key, opened the door and dealt with the alarm, noticing how long his fingers were.

‘God, I’m beat,’ he said, flopping down on the leather chair.

‘Maybe you should just go to bed, Angus?’

He ignored her and picked up the remote. He flicked on the TV, punching through the channels aimlessly.

She retreated into the small neat kitchen and switched on the kettle. She’d make him a quick coffee and then get back to Evie. She opened his fridge only to find a disgusting half-finished litre of milk which had gone sour. She binned it and made him a black coffee instead. Into it she ladled two heaped spoons of sugar.

‘Take this,’ she said, sitting down near him. ‘You’ve had a fall and a shock.’ She watched as he sipped it wordlessly.

‘Now come on, Angus, go to bed,’ she ordered, as if he were a little kid.

‘I’m fine here,’ he protested, stretching out, kicking his shoes off and yawning.

‘No, you’re not. You are going to bed,’ she insisted.

Disgruntled, he followed her as she led him up the narrow wooden stairs to the bedroom. It was tidy and clean, the bed orderly with a white quiltcover and pillows and a tartan throw on top, the shelves filled with his stacks of CDs.

‘Bathroom, then bed,’ she said.

‘Yes, Mam.’

She sat on the edge of the bed waiting till he reappeared, watching as he flung his black leather jacket on the chair and dived for the bed in his shirt and trousers.

‘Angus, take them off!’ she prompted.

He made a half-hearted attempt and failed. Leaning over, she helped him. He’d got a grass stain on his trousers and the makings of a big bruise on his side.

‘Get in beside me,’ he said drunkenly. ‘Come on!’

‘Not tonight, Josephine,’ she laughed, fixing the quilt over him and hanging up his jacket and trousers. Almost at once his breathing got heavier and his snores filled the room.

A good night’s sleep would work wonders. She left the lights on the landing on and one downstairs in the mews before heading back down the path to her own door. Angus would have a hell of a hangover tomorrow, that was for sure, she thought, locking up and going to her own bed.

He’d phoned while she was at work, leaving a message, and surprised her a few hours later by calling at the door when she was putting Evie to bed.

‘How’s the head?’

He squirmed. ‘Bad.’

‘You tripped over Evie’s skates, do you remember that?’

‘I’ll live. Anyway, I just called to say thanks.’

‘I was just being neighbourly,’ she said softly.

Taking in his forlorn features and hangdog expression, she momentarily considered inviting him in but her better judgement decided against it.

‘I’m just putting Evie to bed,’ she explained.

‘Look, I won’t hold you up then, but I just wanted to know if you would like to have dinner this weekend.’

‘Dinner?’ she said, surprised.

‘You know, two people sitting across the table, with good food on plates, a bottle of wine, some music and maybe a candle?’ he said coaxingly. ‘I thought it might be a fitting tribute to the newly contracted author illustrator.’