Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) (12 page)

“So Sophie insisted you would jump at the chance of a bit of company,” David said then, bringing his mother back to the present.

Rosie couldn’t help feeling a little annoyed.  Yes, she’d enjoy having him around but ‘jump at the chance’ was overstating it a bit!  And yes, of course she still felt lonely after Martin, and would no doubt always feel lonely after Martin, but at the same time, she was beginning to enjoy her independence.  She went out for walks with Twix three times a day, had played badminton until only recently when her back had started giving her trouble, and was always nipping up and down to Sheila on the train. The way her children were talking, you’d swear she was sitting at home pining for someone to talk to!

“Well, I’d enjoy the company of course but, David, I do have my own interests too,” she said, with a slight edge to her tone.

“I know that, Mum, and to be honest I’d rather I didn’t put you out, but Sophie’s trying to get settled in her new house, and I know she doesn’t want me in on top of them.  In fairness, I didn’t really expect her to but –”

At this Rosie’s eyes widened. “So you asked Sophie if you could stay there first, did you?”

“Well …” David backtracked a little.  “No, no, I asked her what she thought might be best … for everyone . . . and we both agreed that my going to stay with you in Wicklow might be it.”

“I see.” Rosie felt a little miffed that all these decisions were being made without consulting her.  But in fairness, she thought then with a sigh, Sophie was probably right.  She and Robert and Claudia were a young family trying to enjoy their brand-new house.  It probably wouldn’t do her daughter’s marriage much good to have her newly separated big brother shacking up with them! 

Although he could certainly have helped fill one of those five huge bedrooms …

“So, I was hoping to come home soon – probably sail over in the next few weeks,” David continued. “Hopefully I’ll be able to fit most of my stuff in the car, but if not, I can get it sent on and –”

The next few weeks?  He’d be there before Rosie even had the chance to get used to the idea!  While of course she was looking forward to having him home, she really didn’t think she would have such a short space of time to do so!

“But what about Kelly?” Rosie asked.  “Are you sure you two can’t still work it out between you? Are you sure there’s no going back?”

But by David’s tone when he answered, Rosie almost wished she hadn’t asked

“I can assure you it’s over,” he snapped. “There’s no going back to that.”

And Rosie decided there and then that she wouldn’t dare raise the subject again any time soon.

Now, she turned to Sheila.  “So it seems I’m getting my son back,” she said.

“And how do you feel about that?”

Rosie shrugged.  “He’s my son, and from what I can make out he’s been through a tough time of it.  I’m not going to have him out on the street.”

“Of course not, but still, this will be a huge change for you,” Sheila said. “You have your own life now, and your own independence.  David has been gone for nearly ten years, and then out of the blue he just decides to up sticks and come home.  Has he even thought about what he’s going to do when he gets here?”

“I suppose that’s his business.  He can do what he wants.”

“But what about you, Rosie?” Sheila insisted, suspecting that her friend wasn’t completely happy with the situation.
She
wasn’t happy with the situation. David and Sophie had been taking their mother for granted for as long as she could remember and it just wasn’t on. “What about what
you
want?”

“I want what’s best for my children, Sheila,” Rosie said, shrugging.  “At the end of the day, isn’t that what every mother wants?”

The train was late – again.  Dara’s bones ached as she stood on the crowded platform at Connolly Station.  She knew she could hop on the next Dart to take her back as far as Sandycove, but the beauty of the train was that it didn’t stop at every station along the way.  Psychologically as well as physically, the train was a whole lot faster, so really, she convinced herself, it was worth the extra few minutes’ wait.

Finally, the train pulled in and the impatient passengers piled on all at once, Dara included.  Her face fell when she realised the carriage was already packed to the gills and there wasn’t a hope in hell of her getting a seat.  She groaned inwardly.  It was the same in the mornings. This train seemed to be getting busier and busier and the rail company should seriously consider putting on some extra carriages.  It would be more in their line to do that, she thought groaning, than all these track upgrades they continually seemed to be doing. 

Still, however bad the trains might be, at least it was better than sitting in slow-moving traffic for hours on end.  Dara had more than once suggested to Mark that instead of using a shamrock for the country’s national symbol, a traffic cone would be more appropriate, seeing as there seemed to be several million of them on Irish roads at any given time. 

Mark was lucky though.   Working as the resident physio for a nearby rubgy club, he didn’t have to keep to nine-to-five hours, nor try to get from A to B at the busiest commuting times.  As a result, he tended to drive everywhere.  Still, the flipside of that was that Mark often had to work weekends and some evenings, whereas Dara loved having weekends free for shopping, dinner with the girls, or simply flaking out in front of the TV with a stack of chocolate and a mountain of crisps.  Mmm, flaking out sounded like a very tempting prospect just then, and she was really looking forward to getting home and resting her aching joints.

Mark was making dinner when she returned.  He was brilliant like that; Dara could hardly make a cup of tea without getting into a frenzy.  For some reason, she’d been born without the cooking gene – or indeed, she thought, grimacing at the dust on the coffee table – without the housework gene either. Oh, sod it, she’d do it sometime.  Anyway life was too short to stuff a mushroom as someone once famously said, and despite the fact that it wasn’t quite Shakespeare, Dara thought it just might go down as the best quote in history.

“How was work?” Mark asked, adding a myriad of different ingredients – most of which Dara didn’t recognise – into the blender.  Great, he was making some of his famous Italian sauce, she thought, her stomach growling approvingly.  When it came to Italian cooking, Mark’s stuff could be often be ten times better than what you’d get in a restaurant.  She reached over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.  “Busy as usual.  Still catching up since the holidays, really.”  With one hand, she kneaded the small of her back, trying to ease the low throbbing. 

“Well, this won’t be too much longer.  Sit down on the couch, and I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Thanks, hon.” Dara smiled gratefully at him and toddled off to the sofa.  Instantly, she kicked off her uncomfortable shoes, something she’d been dying to do all day.  At one stage on the way home on the train, she was half tempted to slip her aching feet out of them, but she suspected that wouldn’t have gone down well with the other passengers!

Soon, dinner was served and as usual Mark had come up trumps. 

As soon as they’d finished, he raised a subject that Dara suspected had been on his mind for some time. 

“How would you feel about moving?” he asked, as she put utensils into the dishwasher. “I know you love this place, but it’s a bit too small for the two of us.”  Before they moved in together, Mark rented a much smaller apartment in the city centre. Unlike Dara, he hadn’t had the foresight to invest in a place of his own before the property market went crazy, and she knew he was anxious that the two of them settle down somewhere permanently.  Dara’s two-bed apartment was fine for the moment, but once they decided to start a family …

“We can’t stay here forever,” Mark went on, as he poured them both a cup of coffee and handed one to Dara, “so we might as well start looking sooner rather than later.”

“I know.” Dara bit her lip.  The problem was that she really loved this apartment and was proud of the fact that she’d bought it herself.  It was something to show for all the months and years she’d spent working like a demon, and trying to forget about … trying to forget about her mistakes.  “But at the same time, I’d hate to sell it.”

“Then don’t,” Mark replied easily, taking his coffee into the living-room area and sitting on the sofa, stretching his long muscular legs out in front of him.  “Hold onto it and rent it out.  You’ll have no problem getting tenants for it – not here anyway.”

Dara sat beside him, pondering on what he had said. He was right.  And they would need to think about something bigger, particularly for when they started a family, which by rights they should be thinking about very soon. They’d both decided to keep the first year of their marriage to themselves before they started trying for a baby.  Dara was thirty-four now, and as much as she hated to admit it, time was beginning to run out.  She grimaced, thinking how Ruth would probably pounce on this idea as yet another unacceptable reason for her decision to ‘settle’.

“OK, we’ll have a think about it,” she said. “We should have a look on the internet later – see if anything jumps out at us.  I’d love something around here though, a gorgeous Georgian place with a sea-view and maybe a balcony or – ”

Mark laughed.  “I think you’re in the wrong job then – you should have trained to be a barrister!  And unless I get a job with the national rugby team in the meantime, you might just have to settle for a sensible semi – especially if you don’t want to sell this place.”

“We’ll see,” Dara said, thinking that if they found the perfect house, she might just be persuaded to part with her beloved first home.  She finished her coffee and set her mug down on the floor beside her.  “Ah, that feels good!” Mark had swung her legs onto his lap, and was now expertly massaging her aching feet. “Mmm, that feels even better,” she sighed dreamily and then laid back and rested her head against the arm of the sofa.  Mark was terrific at massage.  Being a sports physio, he’d have to be, but his talents were also very much appreciated at home. 

“I’ve told you before that those heels are doing dreadful damage to your posture,” he scolded.

“I know, but I can’t exactly turn up at court wearing trainers, can I?”

“Why not?” he teased. “Would the judge strike the case out just because he didn’t like the look of your Reeboks?”

Dara giggled at the thought of it. “No, but my clients would probably strike
me
out!” she joked, thinking of what someone like Leo Gardner might say if his legal team appeared in anything less than perfect attire. Thinking of Gardner, she sighed deeply.

Mark noticed her change of mood immediately. “Now
that
wasn’t a sigh of pleasure,” he said. “What’s the matter? Work?”

Dara nodded and rolled her eyes. “Oh, bloody Leo Gardner is driving me mad – again.”

Gardner, an arrogant, self-important TV producer, was one of Cullen & Co’s most important clients and – primarily because of his abrasive personality – was also one of their most frequent.  Dara did a lot of work on his behalf, but in truth she hated having anything to do with the slimy git. 

Mark nodded sternly. “Look, if he even thinks about laying a hand on you again, let me know.  After I’m finished with him, he’ll have to think very seriously about it again.”

Gardner was also a male chauvinist pig who often had trouble keeping his hands to himself. Dara smiled at her husband’s protectiveness; she’d love for Mark to put someone like Gardner in his place. 

“It’s not just that,” she said sighing. “Nigel and I had a meeting with him this afternoon, and no sooner was he in the door of my office than he asked – no
ordered
– me to go and make tea.  Tea! I’m in line for a partnership, Mark, yet the bloody Neanderthal sees me as good for nothing but making stinking tea!”

Mark shook his head in disgust, having heard much of this before.

Dara went on. “Throughout the entire meeting he gave me as much respect as he would one of those lap-dancers he visits on a regular basis!  Actually, wait, no – he probably gives those girls much more, because at least they supposedly ‘know their place’.” She rolled her eyes. 

“There’s no way you can pass him over to someone else? Give all his stuff to Nigel, maybe?”

She sighed. “No, he creates too much work, which is great for Cullen & Co, but not so good for the likes of me or any other females in the office.” She thought wryly of the time Gardner casually slapped Ruth’s behind one day while passing through the office. Ruth had there and then threatened to take a sexual assault case against him, but quickly changed her mind upon realising that her own employer – and indeed Dara – would be the one ending up defending it.  Dara almost wished somebody
would
take such a case against the creep, because she’d be seriously tempted to try and throw it.

When she told Mark this, he shook his head. “I still can’t figure out how you can continue working on his behalf, then.  Surely there’s a conflict of interest?”

Dara shrugged. “I don’t necessarily have to love all my clients. And at the end of the day, it’s just work. It’s what I do.  Same as what you do. You know that fly-half you’re always complaining about? The sleazy one that gives you the eye – the one you reckon definitely swings the other way?”

“Yep,” Mark shuddered, and Dara smiled.

“Well, if he pulls a groin strain, you have to help him out, don’t you? No matter how much it might repulse you, no matter how much you hate doing it, you still have to … attend to his groin.” She laughed at Mark’s nauseated expression. “It’s your job, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

“Ugh, can we change the subject please?” he said, shaking his head.  “I don’t want to be thinking about some hairy, ugly idiot’s groin, not now anyway.”  He gave her a meaningful look and clasped her ankles together.  “Not when my gorgeous wife is in such close proximity to my own.”

Dara’s eyes widened. “You dirty little devil,” she teased, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

“It’s no use,” he said, using one hand to tickle her feet, which he knew always sent her into fits of laughter.  “I have you caught – there’s no getting away from me!”

The tickling sent her into fits of convulsions, and try as she might, Dara couldn’t escape.  Eventually, things grew a little more serious, and soon Mark began to kiss and caress his way along her body, covering her in tiny, feathery kisses.  He was a wonderful lover, she thought.  Always so considerate, gentle, loving.   And when they were together, it was good – in fact it was very good – but, as she’d tried to explain to Ruth, her and Mark’s relationship just didn’t have the same fiery, passionate intensity that she and Noah had.  They didn’t seem to have that incredible, uncontrollable lust for one another.  It was, like the rest of their relationship, good, steady, enjoyable. 

And, Dara once again reassured herself, there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.  Mark might not set her world on fire, but fiery passion wasn’t everything, was it? 
Although, she thought, recalling her uncertainties about the future of their relationship in the early days, it had taken a bit of convincing before she accepted that idea.

******

What had really helped Dara let go of her romantic and idealistic notions about the perfect relationship was a conversation she’d had with her father back when she and Mark first got together.  

Her parents knew she was seeing someone, but she purposely hadn’t told them all that much about Mark or how the relationship was going.  Still, upon hearing that Dara was in a romance at all, her mother behaved like she’d won the lottery.  Finally, poor old Dara had found a man for herself!  Finally, they could stop worrying about her and stop wondering what the hell was wrong with her.  Oh, wouldn’t it be lovely if at thirty-three years of age, she finally settled down and concentrated on something other than her precious career!  And wouldn’t it be even better if she could land this Mark fellow for the long haul and ended up getting married!  In Hannah’s opinion, a ring on the finger fixed
everything
.

But what Dara had wanted to find out was if those two things had fixed everything for her mother – if the wedding and the husband had meant happily ever after for her parents.  This was something that she could never be quite sure of. Her parents had been together for the best part of thirty-five years so they must be happy, but still, she wanted to know if things had changed in their relationship over the years. 

And as she and Hannah didn’t have that sort of rapport – you could never get a straight answer out of her mother – she went instead to Eddie.

Like any child, Dara had always taken it for granted that her parents had met and fell passionately in love, got married then went on to have much-wanted children. But she wanted to know if the passion was still there, if the fire still burned.  In other words, she wanted to see if her long-held romantic ideals about love and marriage were valid.  Where better than to start with the marriage she knew best – or did she?