Girl Descending (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 2) Page 15

  The orange and pink swede court shoes balanced reverently on a wrought iron shelf in the middle of the window. Her heart started slamming against her ribs in that all too familiar pre-shopping atrial flutter as her hand reached into her pocket and scrunched up the list.

  There would be no money left for that special outfit. There would be no money left for any underwear and if she was very unlucky there’d be no money left for her bus fare home. But all of those issues were immaterial as they were surmountable. She just had to have those shoes. Pushing open yet another glass door her mind frantically worked on an alternative outfit now she had the ‘pièce de résistance’: Plain black of course and matching tights, all readily available from Penney’s. The underwear - well she had drawers full of the stuff, if you liked pink that is and after all they matched the shoes to perfection!

  Chapter Twenty Six

  ‘I’m not saying anything!’

  He didn’t have to and she didn’t bloody care. Grabbing her old plain black shawl and even older fuchsia handbag she walked past him nose in the air. She felt wonderful and that’s all that mattered.

  ‘So er have you seen any good movies recently?’ He added on a spurt of laughter. ‘You know; like The Wizard of Oz, or indeed Pippa Longstocking?’ His eyes firmly fixed on her pink and orange tights before scrolling up to focus on her skin tight black body stocking that left little to the imagination. ‘Although I’d just like to add for the record I do approve your taste in dress.’

  He hand playfully tapping her bottom even as she swerved to avoid it. ‘They seem to use less and less fabric these days, I suppose it must be the recession. Same thing happened in the post war down turn.’

  ‘You should know!’ She said, pushing away the arms that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere to encircle her waist. ‘Get off, we’ll be late.’

  ‘It’s fashionable to be late, and I’m not that much older than you Miss Smarty-pants, or should that be tight pants,’ his head muzzling into the side of her neck. ‘You smell good enough to eat.’

  ‘I’m not on the menu.’ She tilted her head and, reaching up planted a kiss on his lips. ‘Maybe later if you’re a good boy, but now I need food and….’ She paused, her eyes meeting his, ‘as much as I love you I need to eat.’

  She felt him still in her arms, his whole body going from warm fluidity to stiff plank as her words echoed and reverberated around them like a precious secret. She let him hold on to her, the depth and breadth of his hug seeping warmth into even the darkest corners of her mind. She had no regrets in finally letting him in on her feelings for hadn’t she known ever since she’d met him he was more important than anything; he was the most important thing in her life – she’d do anything to make him happy and that included sex even though she knew she’d lose him. She’d lose him because it was the one thing she was meant to be crap at.

  She’d done her best with the outfit and as for underwear - all she could afford was the body stocking and cheapo tights from Penney’s after her little shoe extravagance. There had been no margin left for any accessories, but she’d always hated VPL’s anyway. The only way she could be less commando would be if she’d bought camouflage.

  ‘Grainne,’ his voice hoarse. ‘Let’s take a rain check on the party….,’ his hands starting on an expedition all of their own.

  Reaching up she gave his lower lip a playful nibble before placing her hands over his, fingers entwined.

  ‘We’ll have plenty of time later Ruari. I need to eat and there’s nothing in the fridge.’ She smiled up at his dazed expression. ‘Come on, did your mother never tell you about anticipation being better than the execution?’ She added, pulling him towards the door.

  ‘We never had conversations like that.’

  ‘Shame.’

  The evening air had the first chill of autumn within its greedy fingers as they made their way to the car. But Grainne, her arms wrapped around him didn’t notice the cold. She didn’t feel the icy wind’s breath lift her hair off her neck, nor the first few drops of rain against her cheek. All she felt was the feel of his heartbeat under her hand as it pounded in perfect unison with her own.

  She loved the feeling of being in perfect unison with someone; with being in perfect unison with him. There was no evading the way their heart, their steps, even their footprints seemed to have a natural rhythm of their own. He was the last piece in the jigsaw puzzle of her life. They were so different and yet, confusingly the same.

  He sat next to her in the car; his hands still clasped through hers his face a mask. For once she was anxious. She was anxious about what he was going to say. She feared the words that, even now were being worked out with military precision behind that mask. Would he still be speaking the same language as seconds before, or had he already changed his mind?

  ‘Grainne, we need to talk.’ He pulled his hands away and, turning on the engine finally met her eyes. ‘Damn and blast Sorcha, I don’t have either the time or the energy for her tonight and…’ Glancing at his watch, he added.’ We’re already late. I’d much rather be at home with you and...’

  She interrupted him. ‘It’s alright my love, we have all the time in the world.’

  Sitting around the intimate dinner table her right leg clamped to Ruari’s, his hand lazily caressed her knee his words fluttered around her head. He wanted to talk. He wanted to talk but what did he want to say? They’d said it all over the last few days. They’d done nothing but talk long into the night on anything and everything. They’d argued about their favourite movie, only finally agreeing when it came to literature and music. They’d talked about their childhood, their schooling and their career choices. They’d even talked about their previous relationships or in her case her relationship with Simon. He’d told her about the fake baby and she’d been torn, because of course what if it hadn’t been fake? What if she’d really been pregnant, but listening to him her head nestling against his shoulder she knew he wasn’t another Simon. He wouldn’t have left her. He wouldn’t have abandoned his child. He wouldn’t have walked out on his responsibilities. He’d have stayed despite his own happiness.

  Her eyes flickered at the mention of her name.

  ‘So how are you settling into Dublin then?’ Asked Paul, his hand outstretched to refill her wine glass.

  ‘Oh, it’s grand. Everyone’s been so welcoming.’

  ‘You’re sharing with Freddie aren’t you? She’s a nice girl despite having strange taste in men.’

  ‘Paul!’ Sorcha threw an apologetic smile across the table. ‘Vetinary College chose him you know – absolutely no people skills.’

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘You see? He can’t even leave his job at the dinner table.’ She turned and planted a brief kiss against his lips. ‘Yes dear, hay – that’s what horses eat.’

  ‘He’s always been an uncouth.…’ Started Mitch, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Liddy their hands linked on the table.

  ‘Now that’s enough.’ Paul’s voice suddenly shrill. ‘We’ve invited you into our home and all you do is insult me!’

  ‘Tease, my darling, not insult - and you’re man enough to take it.’ Sorcha pulled him into her arms and proceeded to glue her lips to his with loud snogging noises.

  ‘Oh God, we weren’t like that were we?’ He turned to Liddy with a smile.

  ‘No, never!’ Returning his smile with a brief kiss, before glancing across the table. ‘What about you two boys making some coffee so Grainne and I can have a catch up.’ Her eyes landing again on Paul and Sorcha in full snog mode. ‘You might as well make them a cup too.’

  ‘Come on Mitch, we know when we’re not wanted.’ Ruari heaved himself to his feet with mock exasperation before gathering together a handful of dishes. ‘We might as well earn some extra brownie points; they might come in useful later.’

  ‘It’ll take a lot more than some dishes. Are there any chocolate biccies going with that coffee?’ Liddy grabbed Grainne by the arm. Come on - let’s hog the sofa
while they serve us our caffeine fix.’

  They settled side by side on the large chintzy sofa, the gentle tones of some long forgotten melody humming in the background.

  ‘So how did you two meet?’ Grainne asked, her wine glass cradled on her lap.

  ‘Oh, accidently you know.’ She replied with a grin. ‘I sort of tripped him up and, as they say the rest is history.’ She turned to look at her. ‘You seem to be doing alright for yourself. I’ve never seen Ruari so so….’ She paused, a frown pooling as she struggled to find the right word. ‘So content. He’s always racing off from one place to the next but now it’s as if he’s prepared to linger. I’ve always felt he wasn’t quite comfortable in his own skin, until now that is.’

  ‘He’s lovely.’

  ‘Well of course he is,’ her laugh echoing around the room. ‘Not my type though, I’ve always had a thing for blond brain surgeons myself.’

  Grainne joined her in a fit of giggling.

  ‘Oh bugger.’ Grainne looked askance at her glass, which had slipped through her fingers to spill red wine all over the pale green carpet. ‘Sorcha’s going to kill me.’

  ‘Nah, Kitchen towels to mop up the excess and then cold water. It’s not the first time we’ve had to de-stain this old thing.’ She added, starting to get off the sofa but Grainne stopped her.

  ‘No, you stay there, I’ll sort it out.’

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  ‘I’ll wash while you dry,’ said Mitch, already filling the sink with hot water. ‘I would recommend they get a dishwasher, but I’d only have to pay for it.’ He added with a wry smile, handing him a pile of freshly ironed tea towels.

  ‘So how’s married life treating you then?’

  ‘Bloody brilliant mate, I’d heartily recommend it, although it does help that I’ve married the Ideal Girl.’

  ‘Yeah right!’ Ruari took the Waterford crystal bowl from him with extra care simply because he remembered how much the bloody thing had cost. It had given him a lot of pleasure to find it filled to the brim with homemade chocolate trifle, instead of gathering dust in some cupboard or other – That didn’t stop him though from placing it on the side with extra care before reaching for the first of the matching wine glasses.

  ‘So no doubt you’ll start filling up the house with a pile of sprogs then – that’ll cramp your style somewhat.’

  ‘Now what makes you say that I wonder?’ Mitch said, pausing mid rinse. ‘The house on Palmerstone Road has four bedrooms and it will give me the greatest pleasure in making little Liddy’s for each one.’

  ‘I bet it will!’ He quipped back. ‘What, no boys?’

  ‘As long as they’re healthy - Liddy’s going on about starting a football team but I’d be as happy with netball. As long as they have their mother’s soft nature I really don’t care what they look like.’ He handed him a plate before adding more hot water and washing up liquid to the bowl. ‘So what about you and Grainne then - she’s not your usual type surely?’

  ‘I didn’t think I had a usual type.’

  ‘No, perhaps not.’ He patted him on the back. ‘Type or not she’s perfect for you. We were all getting a bit worried you were starting to turn into a grumpy old bachelor.’

  ‘Nah, there was never any chance of that. I was just waiting for the right girl to come along.’

  ‘And Grainne, she’s the right girl?’

  He stood back and just stared at Mitch. He’d known him ever since they’d shared a flat as med students and no one, perhaps apart from his mother knew more about him. If there was one person in the world he could turn to for advice or help it was this large bear like man standing beside him. ‘If by that you mean do I want to marry her then the answer is yes. In fact I was going to ask you to be my best man.’

  He watched Mitch doing a juggling act with a glass and a plate, just managing to drop neither before pulling him into an awkward brotherly type hug.

  ‘Congratulations old man. Well I never, wait till I tell Liddy.’

  ‘Shush, no you don’t - I still have to ask her yet, I’m planning on doing it tonight.’ He added, patting the pocket of his jeans.

  ‘Hold on a mo.’ Mitch took a step back, his eyes fixed on his face. ‘Are you sure? ‘You’ve only known her a few weeks. Wasn’t she engaged before to some bloke in Cork…?’

  ‘I’m a million percent sure. I knew nearly the first time I met her I wanted to be the father of her children. Now I can think of nothing better than coming home to a house full of wailing babies and dirty nappies. Beautiful bright blue eyed babies with a shock of red hair and the sweetest of smiles.’ He pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘Sorry, I’m getting gooey in my old age; I never even thought I wanted kids until I met her.’

  ‘No, you’re not going gooey; you’re just in love and about bloody time if you ask me.’ He placed some mugs on the counter and reached for the percolator. ‘Fetch the milk would you. The coffee’s ready and I don’t want to leave the girls too long on their own.’

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Grainne moved away from the door her head spinning. She needed to get away. She needed to be alone and the only place she could think of was the bathroom. Locking the door behind her a wave of nausea suddenly hit and she only managed to reach the toilet before losing her supper in its entirety. There was no nasty after vomit stomach spasms, just one purge and she was empty. She was so empty there was nothing left, apart from her thoughts – her thoughts remained.

  Pressing the flush she threw a brief glance into the bowl to see if it was clean before making her way to the sink. She knew she needed to be doing something but what? Lifting a hand to drag her hair away from her face she struggled to remember. She’d gone to fetch something from the kitchen and had only paused at the sound of her name.

  Of course they were bound to be talking about her, probably comparing notes on how Liddy and she performed in bed. When men got together they talked about sport or sex and as the football season had only just started it had to be sex.

  And then, when she’d heard his words she wished it had been sex. She wished he’d been rude. She wished he’d criticised her looks, her body, her love making – not that there’d been much of that but men made things up in situations like this, or so she’d been told. But no, he’d said the one thing that meant she had to leave. She loved him too much to stay – even one second in his company would be too much.

  She rinsed her mouth with water before throwing the remainder over her face. She didn’t have the willpower to stay; one look, one word and she’d be broken. He was going to propose tonight and all because he’d changed his mind. He now wanted the one thing she could never give him.

  She knew she couldn’t remain in hiding forever. She’d finally remembered the wine stain but didn’t have the energy or motivation to do anything other than regret its happening. She had to think and she certainly couldn’t think sitting on the corner of the toilet feeling like shit. She wouldn’t be able to escape him giving her a lift home but she drew a line at anything else.

  ‘Are you all right in there sweetie, haven’t fallen down the loo or anything?’

  She pulled at the door, thanking God for the first time in living memory she was a redhead. Redheads didn’t make good patients and she knew all too well she now looked the colour of skimmed milk.

  ‘Grainne, what’s the matter,’ his voice mirroring the sudden concern in his voice.

  ‘Migraine.’ She managed the briefest of smiles. She was proud of that smile. He would never know the effort it took for her to execute. ‘Can you just take me home please?’

  He started to protest when she reinforced that home meant Crumlin and not Sandycove.

  ‘But…’

  ‘No but’s. I need to be alone with no one fussing about. I’m a day off tomorrow, that’s all I’ll need.’

  He only agreed because he had little choice other than kidnap and she knew that wasn’t his style. Helping her out of the car she allowed him to escort her to
the door but no further. Her resolve wasn’t that strong. One word, one look and all her willpower would dissolve into the mist that had descended over the canal like some Hammer Horror movie.

  ‘I’ll give you a ring tomorrow morning.’

  She nodded before wrapping her arms around him in the tightest embrace. She felt she never wanted to let him go, but let him go she must. If she didn’t care so much she’d allow him to propose. Instead this was goodbye and he didn’t even know. By tomorrow morning she’d be gone.

  She didn’t sleep. She lay for hours watching the shadows flicker and stretch across the ceiling her mind a myriad of thoughts, but when she tried to analyse how she felt she couldn’t. It was as if someone had ripped her insides out and just left an empty shell. There was nothing left, only the cottage. The cottage would be her refuge for now. It was the only place she had to go, the only place where she could hide away from everyone and everything. It was far enough away from Cork for Simon not to be a problem and far enough away from Dublin to hamper Ruari if he decided to follow.

  She got out of bed when the shadows faded in the early morning light. There wasn’t much to pack and what there was fitted into the couple of suitcases she’d tucked under her bed - was it only three weeks ago? When she finished she sat on the end of her bare mattress and waited. She waited for sounds from Freddie’s room next door. She’d discounted almost immediately just disappearing into the night with perhaps a scrawled note bereft of any details. She owed Freddie much more than that. She owed her, if not quite the truth then at least a version of it.

  Pulling away from the curb little more than an hour later her eyes started to fill. Freddie had been wonderful, more than wonderful. One look at Grainne and she’d pulled her into a tight embrace before leading her into the kitchen and making her eat at least some of the toast she’d piled in front of her. She didn’t even mention the loss in rent, but Grainne had already dealt with that by transferring a couple of months-worth directly into her account. She felt bad enough at leaving her in the lurch so soon before the wedding without leaving her out of pocket too.