The Woman Who Stole My Life (21 page)

Monday morning, first thing, Karen and I were getting set for our day when we heard a person coming up the stairs to the salon.

‘Already?’ I said. ‘Someone’s in a hurry.’

Karen saw the visitor before I did and her face became hard and unfriendly. ‘Can I help you?’

It was him. Mannix Taylor. Not in his hospital clothes but in the grey expensive-looking coat that he’d been wearing the very first time I’d seen him, when I’d driven my car into his.

‘Can I see Stella?’ he said.

‘No,’ Karen said.

‘I’m here,’ I said.

He saw me and the shock of our eye contact made me dizzy.

‘What happened to you on Friday?’ he asked.

‘I … well …’

‘I waited until nine o’clock.’

‘Oh.’ I should have rung. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Can we talk?’

‘I’m at work.’

‘Do you get a lunch break?’

‘Have it now.’ Karen sounded angry. ‘Go and have your talk. But remember, mister,’ she stepped between Mannix Taylor and me, ‘she’s married.’

‘– Actually,’ I said, apologetically, ‘Ryan and I have separated.’

Karen’s face blazed white with shock. Never before had she been so wrong-footed. ‘What? When?’

‘Over the weekend. He moved out last night.’

‘And you didn’t tell me?’

‘I was just about to.’

She rallied with aplomb. ‘Just remember.’ She narrowed her eyes at Mannix, then me, then Mannix again. ‘You two, and your little hospital romance – it’s all in your heads and in real life you’d never be suited.’

Out in the cold blue March morning, I suggested we go to the pier. We sat on a bench and stared at the boats and I asked, ‘What’s going on? Why did you show up at my work?’

‘Why did you make an appointment with me on Friday? And then not come?’

‘I heard that you and your wife have split up –’

‘It’s true.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘I wanted to see you. But then I was too scared.’

‘Right.’ After a pause he said, ‘Isn’t it strange to be actually talking to each other in words and not blinks?’

‘… Yes.’ It had just dawned on me that we were communicating with our voices. ‘We were very good at the blinking.’ Suddenly I was exasperated by all our pussy-footing. ‘Just tell me,’ I said. ‘What happened? With us. In the hospital. I didn’t imagine it, did I?’

‘Nope.’

‘So explain it.’

Staring out to sea, he was silent for a long while, then he said, ‘There was some sort of connection. I don’t know how
it happened but you became … the person I liked the most. Seeing you, it was the bright shiny part of my day, and when our appointment finished, all the sparkle went.’

Oookay …

‘On the home front, Georgie and I, we’d been trying so hard for a baby … babies. The IVF wasn’t working, but even without kids I wanted to give me and Georgie my best shot. But I couldn’t be fully with her while I was thinking about you. So I had to stop seeing you. I’m sorry I didn’t explain. If I’d tried, it would have opened up too much stuff; it would have made it worse.’

‘And then what happened?’

‘In the end we did six rounds of IVF and none of them worked,’ he said. ‘And Georgie and I, we just fell apart. I moved out about five months ago. We’ve applied for a divorce. She’s seeing someone else now; she seems to like him.’

‘And is it shouty and bitter and all that?’

He laughed. ‘No. That’s how over it is. No shouting or anything. I suppose we’re … friends.’

‘Really? That’s good.’

‘We’ve known each other since we were kids, our parents hung out together. I think we’ll always be friends. What about you and Ryan?’

‘He’s moved out and we’ve told the kids. But it’s all a bit freaky. Very freaky.’

‘Do you still love him?’

‘No. And he doesn’t love me. But it’s okay.’ I stood up. ‘I’d better get back to work. Thanks for coming. Thanks for explaining. It was nice to see you.’

‘Nice?’

‘Not nice. Really weird.’

‘Stella, sit down for a minute, please. Can we see each other again?’

I sat gingerly on the edge of the bench and, almost angrily, I asked, ‘What do you want from me?’

‘What do
you
want from
me
?’ he asked.

Startled, I studied him. I wanted to smell his neck, I realized. I wanted to touch his hair. I wanted to lick his …

‘Answer me something,’ I said. ‘And please be honest. I’m not your type, am I?’

‘I don’t have a “type”.’

I stared him down.

‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I guess you’re not.’

‘So the connection we had in the hospital –’

‘And at the car crash,’ he said. ‘Even then, we were communicating without words.’

‘But the state of me while I was in hospital, with tubes in and out of me and my hair not washed and no make-up on and all, it wasn’t like you fancied me?’

‘No.’

Oh.

‘It’s worse,’ he said. ‘I think I fell in love with you.’

I hopped off the bench and put a bit of distance between myself and Mannix Taylor. I was shocked, then thrilled, then, very quickly, I began to wonder if he was mentally ill. I mean, what did I know about him,
really
? He could suffer from delusions or … episodes, or whatever it was that mad people got.

‘I’m going back to work,’ I said.

‘But –’

‘No!’

‘Please –’

‘No!’

‘Meet me later?’

‘No!’

‘For lunch tomorrow?’

‘No!’

‘I’ll be here at one o’clock. I’ll bring sandwiches.’

I hurried back to the salon, where Karen fell on me like a hungry dog. ‘I rang Ryan.’ She spoke rapidly. ‘He says you really have split up. I didn’t tell him Mannix Taylor had shown up here because why upset him with something that’s not going to happen again? So what’s going on?’

Around six o’clock the previous night, Ryan and I had had the historic talk around the kitchen table that sundered our little family. We’d given each other the nod, then asked Betsy and Jeffrey to turn off their electronic devices and sit with us, and they obviously sensed something serious was in the air because they complied without resistance.

I kicked off by saying, ‘Your dad and I, we love you both very much.’

‘But …’ Ryan said. I waited for him to continue but he didn’t, so it was up to me.

‘… Your dad and I have decided to separate, to …’ It was hard to say because it was so momentous. ‘To split up.’

Silence fell. Jeffrey looked sick with shock, but Betsy took it calmly. ‘I knew things weren’t right,’ she said.

‘Really? How?’ Then I remembered the pep talks she used to give me when I was in hospital, about how my illness would bring Ryan and me closer together.

‘This is your fault,’ Jeffrey yelled at me. ‘You shouldn’t have got that disease thing.’

‘That’s what I said!’ Ryan chimed in.

‘It wasn’t right long before the hospital,’ Betsy said. ‘Mom never got a chance to self-actualize. This marriage has always been about Dad. Sorry, Dad. I love you, but Mom was always playing back-up.’

I was amazed. Only a few days ago, Betsy had been a little girl who wouldn’t discuss contraception, and now she’d morphed into a mature young woman with a greater understanding of my marriage than I had.

‘Are you getting divorced?’ Betsy said.

‘It takes a long time, five years. But we’re going to start the process.’

‘Are you getting lawyers?’ Jeffrey demanded.

‘… It’ll be very friendly.’

‘Is Dad moving out?’ Jeffrey asked.

I looked at Ryan; he looked at me. Was this really happening?

‘Yes,’ I managed to say. ‘He’s going to stay in the house in Sandycove.’

‘And who do I live with?’

‘Who do you want to live with?’

‘You’re not supposed to ask me questions like that. You’re supposed to
tell
me. You’re the parents!’ He sounded tearful ‘I don’t want to live with either of you. I hate you both. Especially you, Mom.’ He shoved his chair back and made for the door.

In a flash I decided to stay with Ryan. I was horribly frightened at what we’d unleashed. We couldn’t do this to our children.

‘Please, Jeffrey. Wait. Let’s see. We can rethink things.’

Ryan was starting to look a little sweaty.

‘No,’ Jeffrey said. ‘You’ve said it now. You can’t pretend it’s okay when it’s not.’

‘Exactly,’ Ryan said, a bit too quickly. ‘I know this is hard for you, mate, but life is full of hard lessons.’

Slowly, Jeffrey sat down again.

‘Mom and I are splitting up,’ Ryan said. ‘But it’s really important that you know we love you.’

‘When are you moving out?’ Jeffrey demanded of Ryan.

‘… Well, tonight. But it doesn’t have to be. I can wait until you’re ready.’

‘If you’re going, you might as well go now.’ Jeffrey sounded like he was getting his lines from a soap opera. ‘Do you have a girlfriend?’

I watched Ryan closely. This was a question I too was interested in.

‘No.’

‘Are you going to marry her and have other children and forget all about us?’

‘No! You’ll see me as often as you see me now.’

‘Which is practically never.’

In fairness, Jeffrey had a point.

‘We’re still a family,’ I said. ‘A loving family. You and Betsy are the most important people to us and that will never change. We’re always here for you, no matter what.’

‘Exactly. Always here for you, no matter what. Well, there we are!’ Ryan had the air of someone bringing an overrun meeting to a close. ‘Sad news, but we’ll get through this, right?’

He stood up; our family round-table had clearly come to an end.

‘So … ah,’ Ryan said to me. ‘Will you help me get a few bits together …?’

I packed his wheely case with enough clothes to get him through the next few days. The plan was that he’d gradually remove his stuff over several weeks. There would be no dramatic arrival of a removal van, we’d decided.

As he left, it nearly felt as if he was just going on a work trip and that everything was the same as it had ever been, that there hadn’t been a seismic shift in all of our lives.

Jeffrey went straight to bed and I could hear him sobbing, but when I knocked on his door he yelled, his voice thick with tears, for me to go away.

Eventually I went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep.

I’d had countless nights in that bed on my own while Ryan had been away on business; in theory, tonight shouldn’t be any different. But everything had changed and I was overwhelmed with sadness. I remembered the girl I’d been when I first met Ryan – I was seventeen, the age that Betsy was now. Ryan and I had milled around in the same gang for a long time and even though I’d had a couple of boyfriends and he’d had a fair few girlfriends, I’d always fancied him. It wasn’t just that he was good-looking, he was talented too, and when he started in art college I thought I’d lost him for ever to those cool college girls.

But it didn’t happen that way. He stayed in touch with his old friends and eventually he and I gravitated to each other and it hit us both hard. It was different from any other romance we’d had: it was real, it was serious, it was grown-up.

I’d been mad about him, absolutely wildly in love, and as I remembered how much I’d meant my marriage vows, I cried and cried.

At around 1 a.m. my phone rang; it was Ryan. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

‘Sad, you know …’

‘I just wanted to check something,’ he said. ‘We loved each other once, didn’t we?’

‘We really loved each other.’

‘And we still love each other now? Sort of? Just in a different way?’

‘Yes.’ I was choking with tears. ‘Just in a different way.’

We hung up and I cried even harder.

‘Mom?’ Betsy was at my bedroom door.

She tiptoed across the floor and got into bed beside me and snuggled her body into mine, and sometime late into the night I fell asleep.

On Tuesday morning, I checked my appointments: I had nobody in at one o’clock.

‘Is it okay if I go to lunch at one?’ I asked Karen.

‘Are you mad? That’s our busiest time.’

‘Grand,’ I said, mildly. We’d see.

While I was waiting for my ten o’clock appointment, I decided to give myself a pedicure. As I exfoliated my feet with vigour, Karen watched me with narrowed eyes. ‘You’re putting a lot of work into that. You make sure you charge yourself for it.’

‘I’m equal owner of this salon, Karen. I know our system.’

‘It’s all going to go horribly wrong, you know.’

‘What is?’

‘Whatever is going on with you and Mannix Taylor.’

‘Nothing’s going on.’

‘You’ve lost your mind. Splitting up with Ryan.’

‘It’s been over for a long time with Ryan.’

‘Things were grand before Friday. Until you heard Mannix Taylor was single.’

‘What colour should I do my toes?’

She clicked her tongue and left the room.

By one fifteen, no walk-ins had appeared, so I grabbed my coat and said to Karen, ‘I’m going out.’ Then I belted down
the stairs before she could stop me, wondering if he’d still be there.

When I saw him sitting on the bench, staring out to sea, I felt like I’d had a blow to my chest. I was as breathless as if I was fourteen and this was my first-ever date. It was dreadful.

At the sound of my footsteps, he looked up. Gratitude seemed to wash over him.

‘You came,’ he said.

‘You waited,’ I replied.

‘I’ve already waited a long time for you,’ he said, ‘what’s another half-hour?’

‘Don’t say things like that.’ I perched on the edge of the bench. ‘It’s too … slick.’

‘I’ve brought sandwiches.’ He indicated a brown paper bag. ‘Let’s play a game.’

Startled, we looked each other in the eye. We both swallowed hard.

I cleared my throat and asked, ‘What’s the game?’

‘If I’ve managed to bring your favourite sandwich, you meet me again tomorrow.’

‘I like cheese,’ I said cautiously. I was afraid of him producing turkey and cranberry, my most hated.

‘What kind of cheese?’ he asked.

‘… Any kind.’

‘Go on. Be specific.’

‘… Mozzarella.’

‘I got you mozzarella and tomato.’

‘That’s my favourite,’ I said, almost fearfully. ‘How did you know?’

‘Because I know you,’ he said. ‘I
know
you.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ I muttered, pressing my hand over my eyes. This was way too heavy.

‘And,’ he added, almost breezily, ‘I bought eight sandwiches. One was bound to be something you like … but just because I made sure I was right doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant to be. Either way, it means you’ve got to meet me again tomorrow.’

‘Why? What do you want from me?’ I felt on the edge of tears. Five days ago, I’d been a long-term happily married woman.

‘I want …’ He looked into my eyes. ‘You. I want, you know … The usual.’

‘The usual!’

‘I want to lie you down on a bed of rose petals. I want to cover you with kisses.’

That silenced me for a while. ‘Is that from a song or something?’

‘I think it might be Bon Jovi. But I’d still like to do it.’

‘What if you’re a weirdo who only likes me mute and paralysed?’

‘We’ll soon find out.’

‘But what if I’ve started to like you?’ It was already way too late for that. ‘In all seriousness, do you do this sort of thing a lot?’

‘What? Fall in love with my patients? No.’

‘
Are
you a weirdo?’

After a pause, he said, ‘I don’t know if this counts, but I’m on antidepressants.’

‘For what?’

‘Gout.’

He laughed and I stared at him.

‘Depression,’ he said. ‘Mild depression.’

‘This isn’t funny. What sort of depression? Manic?’

‘Just the ordinary kind. The kind that everyone has.’

‘I don’t.’

‘And maybe that’s why I like you.’

‘I have to go back to work.’

‘Take a sandwich for your sister. I’ve got six spares. Go on.’ He showed me the inside of the paper bag, which was indeed rammed with sandwiches. I took a beef and horseradish and put it in my bag along with my own uneaten one.

‘See you tomorrow,’ he said.

‘You won’t.’

Back at the salon, Karen greeted me sourly. ‘How’s Mannix Taylor?’

‘He sent you a present.’ I smirked into her baleful face and handed over the sandwich.

‘I never eat carbs.’

‘But if you did, beef and horseradish would be your favourite.’

‘How did he know?’ She was interested, despite herself.

‘That’s the kind of man he is.’ I shrugged, like it was no big deal.

He wants to lie me down on a bed of rose petals and cover me with kisses
, I told myself. In which case I’d want to get busy. I went at my bikini area with the laser, then did a full agonizing half-hour of the anti-cellulite machine on my thighs, then – disregarding all safety regulations – immediately gave myself a full-body spray tan.

Wednesday was another dry, bright-blue day, very unusual weather for Ireland. Cold, though, bitterly cold. But I couldn’t feel it even though I’d worn my not-warm, show-off coat that I only ever wore from car to restaurant, just long enough for everyone to say, ‘God, your coat is gorgeous!’

Once again I was almost thirty minutes late, and yet there
he was, sitting on the bench, staring out to sea, waiting for me.

‘I have your sandwich,’ he said.

I accepted it without enthusiasm. There was no point; I couldn’t eat it. I’d barely been able to swallow a mouthful since Monday.

‘Can I ask you things?’ I said. ‘Like, where do you live now?’

‘Stepaside. A rented flat. Georgie has the house. Until we sort out all the … you know, legal stuff.’

‘Where’s the house?’

‘Leeson Street.’

Almost in the city centre. Not in a rural retreat near the Druid’s Glen, like I’d imagined. All that detail I’d put into the life I’d invented for him …

‘No one else talked to me in hospital,’ I realized. ‘You were the only one who treated me like an actual person.’ Then I remembered something. ‘Apart from Roland. How is he?’

‘Doing really well. Working. Paying off his debts. Not buying twelve pairs of shoes in one go. He often mentions you.’

Lovely Roland. ‘Tell him I said hello.’

But as I remembered how frightened I’d been through those long weeks and months I’d been in hospital, I began to feel irrationally angry with Mannix. ‘I was like a prisoner, wasn’t I?’

He looked surprised and I replied for him. ‘I was!’

‘But …’

‘And you were like my jailer, the good-cop one who shoves pieces of bread under the door.’ My anger grew. ‘I was vulnerable. And you took advantage of that. I want to go now.’

I was on my feet and he stood up too, anxiety all over his face.

‘Tomorrow?’ he asked.

‘No. Definitely not. Maybe. I don’t know.’ I hurried away and immediately became entangled with a number of gangly, untucked schoolboys who were clearly on the mitch.

On Thursday morning, I said to Karen, ‘I won’t be going out today at all.’

‘Good,’ she said, with satisfaction.

‘You can take the day off, I’ll cover everything.’

‘I’m not taking the day off, you eejit. Paul Rolles is booked in for a back, sack and crack wax at one o’clock.’

Brightly, I said, ‘I’ll do that.’

‘He’s my client,’ Karen said. ‘He’s decent, tips big and he trusts me.’

‘Let me do him today. You can have the tip anyway.’

‘Okay.’

At one o’clock I welcomed Paul in and got his clothes off and got him up on the bed and started whipping strips off his back, and as I thought of Mannix sitting on the pier, waiting with my sandwich, I felt very pleased with myself and my iron willpower.

I was chatting away with Paul, a cat lover, and I was doing the automatic-pilot thing that counts as beautician talk: ‘Go on.’ ‘Did she?’ ‘Climbed the curtains all by herself?’ ‘God, that’s gas.’ ‘She sounds like a right mad yoke!’

But my head was elsewhere. This Paul was a big bloke and even though I was going at warp speed, waxing him was taking a long time. As I painted on molten wax and pressed down the fabric strips, then whipped them off, I was like a wire that was stretching tighter and tighter. ‘Stick your bum up, good man. I’ll just get in between your –’ Paint, press, whip. Paint, press, whip. PaintPressWhip. PaintPressWhip.

It was about ten to two when, coming at Paul’s testicles
from the rear, the wire inside me snapped. ‘I’m really sorry, Paul, but I’m going to ask my sister to step in to finish you off.’

‘What –’ Paul sat up on his elbows, his bare bum in the air, looking very vulnerable.

‘Karen?’

She was on her stool, at the desk.

‘Karen.’ My voice was high and wobbly, ‘Would you mind stepping in and tidying up Paul? All done except the … you know, last bit. I’ve suddenly remembered that I need to pop out.’

Her eyes blazed with rage but she couldn’t berate me in front of a customer.

‘Of course,’ she said, through lips that didn’t move.

I was already pulling on my coat. I hurried down the stairs, trying to put on lipgloss as I ran.

It was almost two o’clock and he was still there.

‘So?’ he said.

‘So I’m here.’ I sighed and buried my face in my hands. ‘I wasn’t going to come. I can’t do my job. I’m going to vomit. This is horrible.’

He nodded.

‘It’s not horrible for you!’ I said.

‘How do you think I’ve felt sitting here, thinking you weren’t going to come?’

‘
Don’t
make me feel guilty.’

‘Sorry. I’m sorry.’ He touched my hair and said, ‘It’s so pretty.’

‘Really? I just washed it this morning and put the GHD through it.’

‘GHD?’

‘I’m a beautician,’ I said, defiantly. ‘Welcome to my world.’

On Friday morning, Karen said, ‘Will you be meeting him today?’

‘Nothing happens,’ I said defensively. ‘We just sit and talk.’

‘How long can that go on for?’

‘For ever.’

But it couldn’t. When I arrived at our bench, Mannix said, ‘Can you believe the weather?’

‘We’re talking about the weather?’ I was almost contemptuous. But I looked up at the sky – it was still freakishly bright-blue and cloud-free, like God was conspiring to bring Mannix and me together.

‘One day soon it’ll rain,’ Mannix said.

‘And …?’

The meaningful look in his eye made me scoot along the bench, away from him.

He too scooted along the bench and he grabbed my wrist. ‘We’ll have to meet in another place.’

‘And …?’

‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘And … think about it.’

I looked at my lap, then gave him a sideways glance. He meant the bed of rose petals and everything that went with it.

Then my attention snapped to something else entirely – I’d just seen someone I knew. It was so unlikely that I had to be imagining it. But I looked again and it was definitely him: Jeffrey.

Horrified, my gaze locked with his.

I stammered, ‘You … you should be at school.’

Jeffrey looked from Mannix Taylor to me and yelled, ‘And you should be a proper mom. I’m telling on you!’

‘I haven’t done anything!’

Jeffrey ran off and, wild-eyed, I said to Mannix, ‘I have to go.’

I chased after Jeffrey and he must have heard me because he stopped and whirled around.

‘They saw you,’ he shouted. ‘The guys in my class.’

What guys? Then I remembered the gang of schoolboys I’d bumped into the other day, and I could have wept. They’d been in Jeffrey’s class? How about that for awful luck? With a sinking heart, I realized that my bad deeds would always be found out.

Shame washed over me. Shame and sorrow for Jeffrey. ‘Sweetheart, I’m sorry, please –’

‘Get away from me. You whore!’