Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) (35 page)

Louise hadn’t slept a wink all night for thinking about it, thinking about how in a few short days her life would be in tatters.  She couldn’t even comprehend how she would pay off the rest of her debts, let alone pay Gardner’s undoubtedly substantial legal costs.  As she tried to force down a mouthful of muesli, she barely heard Fiona’s chatter about some date she had that weekend. 

Simple things like food and going out – things that Louise usually got excited about, seemed so frivolous and unimportant in comparison to what she was feeling just then.  In a just a few days’ time, an elderly man in a black gown and silly white wig was going to put an end to any frivolity and excitement she had in life. For good. Thinking about it all made her head swim, and her stomach turn.

“So, did you get your passport changed?” Fiona was asking.

Louise’s brain was foggy. “Passport?”

“Duh … for New York?  I thought you said you were getting the photo updated this week. The trip is only six weeks away, remember?  Didn’t you get a chance to do it yesterday?”

Louise blinked slowly. “No … no, I didn’t get a chance.”

Changing her stupid passport photo had been the very
last
thing on her mind yesterday – although Fiona was right; she had originally planned to make the most of her ‘day off’ and pop into the passport office when they finished in court.  Of course, she thought, her stomach turning as she remembered Sam’s shock appearance, she had no idea that things would go so badly.  Afterwards, she could barely see straight, let alone pose for new passport photos.  Although it was probably just as well. If she had got them done, her dazed, shocked and white-faced image would no doubt set off red-alerts at the airport, and she’d never be let out of the country again. 

“Well, I hope you remembered to get to the travel agent’s then.”

Louise groaned inwardly.  The New York trip needed to be paid for this week but the cash she’d withdrawn from the bank the other day was still sitting at the bottom of her bag.  Again, something else she’d planned to do yesterday.

“Louise, are you all right?  You don’t look good,” Fiona asked then, her face filled with concern. 

“I’m fine,” she barely managed in reply, but even to her, her words sounded fuzzy and unconvincing.

“I don’t think you’re fine at all.  In fact, I really think you should go back to bed and stay at home today.  If you like, I can phone work and tell them you’ve come down with a bug or something.  I’m on the late shift today so …”

The thought of going back to bed and pulling the covers over her head and shutting out the rest of the world sounded glorious.  She could pretend none of this was happening and, when she finally did get up, maybe it would have all gone away.  It was all so overwhelming that she really didn’t know how her mind could cope.  But much as she longed to, she couldn’t take a day off – today or any other day from now on.  She couldn’t risk losing her wages or losing her job, because she needed the money now more than ever.

Fiona shrugged when Louise didn’t answer. “Look, they can’t say much – if you’re sick, you’re sick.  And you hardly ever miss work anyway, do you? Except for that jury duty thing you had yesterday.  How did it go, by the way?”

“Fine,” Louise nodded slowly, her head heavy. 
If only she knew
.

Fiona sat forward and took a bite of her banana. “What do you mean, just ‘fine’!” she urged impatiently. “That tells me nothing!  I want to know all the gory details … like did you all vote to put the bad guy in jail or did you let him go or …”

Louise barely heard the rest of her friend’s sentence – she could only concentrate on the word ‘jail’.  Was that something else she hadn’t considered, she wondered, and the very thought sent her head spinning and her stomach into sudden spasms. 

Then, she leapt up from her seat and staggered to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet bowl on time.  And as she threw up over and over again, thinking about all that was about to come – and who knew, perhaps much, much more she hadn’t even contemplated – she wondered how on earth she was going to get through the day.

Not to mention the day after that, and the one after that too … how would on earth she cope? And what was the point?

At that moment, Louise felt so hopeless and so utterly desperate, that she really and truly wanted to die.

                                                                  Chapter 30

Mark wished the driver of the cab would stop his incessant chattering.  Normally he would be well up for a chat with anyone, but this morning he was tired, hung-over and just way too miserable for a discussion about ‘that shower of gobshites in government’ or the country’s ‘disgraceful cost of living’.  After last night’s argument, he’d gone up to the rugby club and drank himself stupid with a few of the regulars, and had ending up sleeping in his own treatment room. 

As the car neared the apartment, Mark stole a quick glance at his watch.  Eight o’clock. Dara would have left for work by now – in fact he’d probably just missed her.

Just as well, he thought, fishing in his pocket for money to pay the driver, because he wasn’t sure what he’d say to her. 

“Thanks, bud.  Go home and sleep it off, yeah?” the driver said with a grin before he drove off. 

Mark wished things were that simple.  He wished it were a case of just sleeping off all his problems.  He couldn’t believe that it had come to this.  Yesterday, he was a happily married man. Today, that so-called marriage was on the rocks, and his wife was on the brink of leaving him for someone else! How could he have been so stupid?

He’d never been so angry with her, never been so angry with anyone in his life.  The depth of his emotions last night shocked him.  He’d thought the two of them were happy, had never even considered the possibility that Dara would cheat on him.  She’d insisted she hadn’t but still …

When Gillian had first told him about it, he’d wanted to take that Noah guy and tear him limb from limb.  The dirty bastard! Who did he think he was coming on to a married woman – ex or no ex? Didn’t the man have any shame?  From what Dara had said, he’d had his chance and he’d blown it, so why did he think he could just waltz back into her life like that?  And to think that the two of them had talked about having children and everything …  A vice closed around Mark’s heart.  He’d wanted children, had wanted them more than anything, and especially with Dara. Yet, all along she’d seen him simply as a means to an end.

Was she really that hardhearted? Had she really married him just because she thought this Noah guy was out of her life for good, that she couldn’t do any better?  If that was the case, then Mark didn’t really know her at all.  He didn’t have a clue who she was – this sexy, funny woman who had stolen his heart the first time they’d met, and who’d last night trampled all over it with her admission that she didn’t feel the same way.  He’d always thought himself a decent judge of character, so how could he have got it so wrong?  And were there really women out there who would do that? Who would marry a man they didn’t love simply because they were afraid of being left on the shelf?

He loved her though, that was the problem.  He loved her very much.  Dara was the best thing that had ever happened to him and all he wanted, all he’d ever wanted was to make her happy.  And, if she ended up leaving him for this Noah guy, really, what could he do about it?  There was no point in ranting and raving about it; he couldn’t change how she felt and there was no point in trying.  If he’d lost her, he’d just have to pick up the pieces and get on with it.  Still, the very thought of this filled him with incredible rage.  Then again, why should he make it easy for her?  If she thought she could just up and leave
him without a second thought, she had another think coming.  Despite what Dara seemed to think, he was no bloody pushover!

With a heavy heart, Mark opened the door to the apartment.  Silence.  As expected, she had already left for work – who knows, she could have left for good. Well, he thought, recalling the taxi driver’s words of wisdom, at least he could sleep it off – he wasn’t due at the club until the afternoon.  He went into their bedroom and undressed, relieved to rid himself of the clothes he’d slept in.  He badly needed a shower, but first he went back out to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water, which would hopefully help to rid him of the blasted hangover.

He stopped short as he caught sight of something on the counter-top.  Dara’s briefcase. She never went to work without it, especially when she was due in court. And she was due in court today, wasn’t she?  Yes, sure, weren’t they right in the middle of that TV producer’s case – the one she’d been dreading.  He picked up the phone and quickly dialled her mobile number.  It went straight to her voicemail.

“Dara, hi, it’s Mark,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “Just wanted to let you know that you’ve gone off without your briefcase. Um … I’ll talk to you later, OK?”

He hung up and took a deep breath. Chances were Dara wouldn’t get the message until she got into town and by then it would be too late.  

He stared at the briefcase.  Feck it, whatever problems they were having and however mad he might be at her, he would hate for her work to be affected because of it.  She’d spent months working this case, and he knew that briefcase was important.  He looked again at his watch.  8.20.  If he hurried he could catch up with her down at the station before her train left.  Or, having since realised she’d forgotten it, she could already be on
her way back to the apartment.  In which case, he’d give her a lift into town; at least make sure she got to work on time.

He sighed.  Their personal problems could wait for the moment. 

Changing quickly into a clean sweatpants and a hooded top, Mark picked up his wife’s forgotten briefcase, and hurried out the door.  

******

He arrived at the station just seconds before the train pulled in.  Dara obviously hadn’t noticed she’d gone off without the briefcase, as he’d kept an eye out for her on the drive down, in case she was on her way back.  He’d originally planned on explaining the situation to one of the rail workers in the hope of being allowed through to the platform – but there was no time for that now.  He’d just have to grab a ticket and rush through if there was to be any chance of catching her before she got on the train. 

But when Mark reached the platform, he couldn’t spot her amongst the crowds of people all trying to board different carriages at once.  While he thought he’d recognised her trench coat and dark curls at one stage, it really could have been anyone.  Feck it!  Maybe he should just forget about it and let her off without the briefcase altogether. After all, she’d have to do without it if he hadn’t come back and spotted it, wouldn’t she? 

Still, it was a shame to have come all this way for nothing.  And she really needed that briefcase. He could always get on the train himself and look for her, couldn’t he? 

Mark shook his head.  Damn it, this wasn’t just about a stupid briefcase!  Despite himself, he wanted to see her, wanted to see if she was OK.  He hated the fact that they weren’t speaking, hated that they’d spent last night fighting.  And he’d said some pretty hurtful things to her, some things perhaps she didn’t deserve. Whatever might happen in the future, he wanted to make it up with her, and if it had to happen on a bloody train in front of a rake of people, so be it.

Seconds before the train pulled away from the station, Mark stepped into the nearest carriage, and resolutely set about finding his errant wife.

                                                          
Chapter 31

Zombie-like, Louise left the apartment, the lovely expensive apartment in the Marina Quarter that had caused her so much trouble, and made her way down the street towards the train station. 

It was a wonderful autumn day, the sky was clear and blue and the sea calm and peaceful.  Yet there was a bite to the air that cut Louise to the quick, particularly as she’d forgotten to bring her hat or gloves with her.  Typical, she thought – even the weather was punishing her now.  Still, because of the biting cold, she was today almost eager to get on the train, and as much as she didn’t want to go anywhere today, she knew that missing her lift and being late for work would only add to her worries.

She reached the station and was on the platform only seconds before the train pulled in. She piled on with all the other commuters and, luckily enough, managed to grab an aisle seat just inside the double doors.  With legs that felt like jelly and a stomach that was spinning like a washing machine, she knew she couldn’t trust herself to stay standing.  

Her head heavy, she looked dazedly out the window at nothing in particular. 

A woman in a lovely candy-coloured pink coat hurrying through the ticket barrier caught her eye. Would she make it before the train left? Yes, the woman managed to step inside the double doors just seconds before they closed.  Then, as she tried to pass through the crowds standing near the door, the same woman managed to drop her handbag directly in front of Louise’s seat.  Louise instantly bent down to retrieve it and, even in her dejected state, she couldn’t help recognising that it was a gorgeous Orla Kiely bag and admiring its lovely pink and white swirls. Fiona would go mad for one of those.

“Here you go!” she said, and couldn’t resisit adding, “An Orla Kiely, isn’t it?”

“Yes – thanks a million,” replied the bag’s harried owner breathlessly, giving Louise a grateful smile as she took the bag, before making her way towards a nearby vacant seat. 

Louise’s gaze moved back to the window, and she saw yet another latecomer hurrying along the platform.  Unfortunately, this person hadn’t been fast enough, and as the train pulled off, Louise felt for the unlucky commuter who would have to wait a while for the next service – the much slower Dart. 

She gave a quick glance around the busy carriage.  The passengers standing up were doing their utmost to retain some measure of personal space, trying not to get too close to the person next to them.  Those lucky enough to get a seat were reading books and newspapers, some sitting back and listening to music, others busily texting friends or business colleagues on their mobile phones. And the rest, like Louise, were simply staring out the window or into the distance, lost in their thoughts. 

She couldn’t help but wonder about what was going on in these people’s lives at the moment, all these people packed into a tiny carriage, each with their own plans for the day.  Did any of them have the kind of worries she had? Had any of them been betrayed and hurt like she had? Did they feel as awful – as desperate as she did just then? 

She stared out the window once more, and tried not to think too much about it.  It was bad enough not getting a wink of sleep the night before, and if she thought about the situation anymore, her brain would surely explode.  She swallowed hard, trying to overcome another familiar bout of nausea, one of many that had plagued her since the disaster that was yesterday.  Her heart heavy, she looked away from the window, determined to will away her worries.

A minute or two later, the connecting door up ahead opened, and an attractive man came through and began to push his way through the crowd, obviously looking for a seat.  He certainly didn’t look like a typical commuter, she thought, dressed as he was from head to toe in sports-gear and but, oddly, carrying an expensive-looking briefcase.  No chance of a seat in here, Action Man, Louise informed him silently, before looking away disinterestedly. 

Then, again out of nowhere, another strong wave of nausea overcame her, and this time it was so strong that Louise had to clutch her stomach.

She sat back and closed her eyes, trying to relax, trying to block it all out.  Before she knew it, tears sprang to her eyes as all the worry and stress she’d spent all morning trying to contain, unexpectedly overwhelmed her. 

Then, without warning, it suddenly felt as though all the air had gone out of the carriage.   She sat up straight, her heart hammering rapidly in her chest, her stomach going into spasms.  Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe.  Eyes wide, her eyes darted quickly around the carriage, wondering if anyone else seemed to notice how hot it had suddenly become.

Then she felt another much more intense bout of nausea, and one that she knew she couldn’t hold back.  She had to get off, had to get out, otherwise she’d be sick right then and there and her brain, never mind the rest of her, would surely explode.  Mercifully, she realised the train was just then slowing down, preparing to pull into the next station.  Could she hold on till then? 

Did she have a choice?

“Are you OK, love?” a woman sitting across asked in a kindly voice.  She had put down her newspaper and was now regarding Louise worriedly. 

But Louise couldn’t answer.  She just had to get out of here, out before the carriage closed in on top of her and swallowed her whole.  She had to get out! 

She stood up, her head dizzy and her legs like jelly as she stumbled to the train’s double-doors.  Stars appeared before her eyes then, and she knew that if she didn’t get out soon, she would almost certainly …

The doors hissed open, and Louise practically slumped outside, awkwardly colliding with the hordes of commuters waiting on the platform, all anxious to board the early commuter train to Dublin, all ready for another hard day’s work in the capital.

Somehow finding the strength, she wandered clumsily down along the platform, and as the train departed slowly into the distance, threw up noisily in the nearest flowerbed.

******

Afterwards, when the retching stopped and she had managed to clean herself up with a tissue, she sat down on the nearest bench and waited.  She would have to get one of the Dart trains now.  Granted, with all its stopping and starting, it would take a lot longer to get into town than the train she’d just got off, but she didn’t have much of a choice, did she?  Anyway, after all that she was feeling much better, and that was something.  Hopefully though, no one had seen her make a show of herself, no one other than perhaps some lucky commuter who might have glanced out the window as the train moved off.  They’d think she was hung-over or something. Louise wholeheartedly wished it were that simple. 

She shivered, wondering how long she would have to wait for the next service.  The Rail Ireland electronic display board was out of order, but that was nothing new. Anyway, as Fiona was always saying, everyone knew that the timetables meant nothing, and the display boards were only there to provide some light entertainment for waiting passengers.  Thinking of her friend, Louise smiled thinly.  What would Fiona think about all this when she finally plucked up the courage to tell her?  And she’d have to tell her soon, because she would almost certainly need to move out of the apartment and she didn’t want Fiona and Becky to be left in the lurch.  She sighed, imagining Fiona’s reaction.  She would be furious with her, furious to discover that her flatmate was one of those compensation-seeking, money-grubbing parasites that annoyed her so much – that seemed to annoy everyone so much.  So, there would be no more apartment, no more nights out on the town, and very likely, no more friendship.

Louise’s life – the frenzied, fun-filled life she’d lived for the last year or so was over now, so she’d just have to face facts and get used to it. 

Although she’d be lucky if she still had a life at
all
, she thought, recalling Fiona’s throwaway remarks about being sent to jail. The judge could very well decide on Monday to charge her with fraud, and might throw her in jail along with all the murderers and drug-dealers.  Louise shuddered at the thought of it.

She sat lost in thought for some time, before eventually looking up and realising that the platform had by now become decidedly crowded.  And, she realised, quickly checking her watch, there hadn’t been a train for over twenty-five minutes! 

That was highly unusual – at this time of day the Darts usually ran every ten minutes – fifteen at the most!  Louise gulped hard.  She was definitely going to be late for work now – it was well past nine o’clock, she was due in at nine-thirty, and she was still a good half-hour away from town! What was going on?

The man sitting alongside her shook his head. “If this is what it’s like when they’re carrying out so-called bloody improvements,” he muttered impatiently, “then God help us all if they decide to ever run a normal service.”

“Probably some problem with the tracks,” another passenger commented.  She rolled her eyes. “It’s nearly always some problem with the tracks.”

But the waiting passengers were soon to be put out of their misery, as just then, there was an announcement over the tannoy:
“This is an announcement by Rail Ireland.  We regret to inform passengers that due to an incident on the line this morning, all scheduled North and Southbound trains will be cancelled until further notice.”

“An incident?” Louise repeated.

“Sssh!
” the man silenced her, as he struggled to hear the remainder of the announcement
“Shuttle buses will shortly be provided to transport passengers to their destinations. If you wish to avail of the shuttle bus, please make your way outside and to the front of the station building. Rail Ireland sincerely regrets any inconvenience caused to passengers at this time. Thank you.”

“I don’t believe this!” the man hissed.  “Bloody shuttle buses!  It’ll take me a whole day to get into the office at this rate.  I might as well go bloody home!”

“Typical!” Another woman shook her head.  “And the government keep telling us to leave our cars at home to help the traffic.  Well, we might just do that if they’d provide a half-decent bloody rail service!”

Louise got up and followed the crowd out to the front of the station.  She’d never make it to the work on time now – no way.  She’d better ring the office and let them know that she’d be –

She stopped short as she caught sight of the TV screen behind the counter at the station’s mini-market.  The news was on, and they were showing pictures of some unimaginable, horrific train accident – probably somewhere in England, Louise deduced, as train crashes were always happening over there.  She strained to hear the accompanying news report.  For all her complaining, she supposed she should be thankful really that she was only slightly inconvenienced by being late.  Wasn’t she lucky that she hadn’t been caught up in something like that?

Then seeing a face she recognised on the screen, Louise stood rooted to the spot, stunned.  Almost at the same time, she identified the accompanying voiceover as that of RTE journalist Clare Rogers – the good-looking one with the lovely hair that was always in
VIP
magazine – she recognised the train carriages, that distinctive logo, the corporate colours …

And all at once Louise realised that this was no English or foreign train disaster.  This was happening right now, right here in Ireland, in Dublin, probably only a few miles up the road.  The wrecked carriages and scenes of horrible disaster they were showing on TV were of the train Louise – just a few minutes before – had been forced to get off.