A Taste for Love (8 page)

Be friends with a man who had ripped your heart out of your chest and left you reeling … she didn’t think so! Liam wanted to turn over the page and start a new life with Elaine. What Alice did was no longer any of Liam’s concern!

Everything had been a mess. A nightmare! Following weeks of crying and anger, disbelief and despair, she had finally got enough sense to look at what she still had – her three healthy adult children, her home, her friends – and pull herself together in some sort of fashion. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let Liam, her unfaithful bastard of a husband, destroy her.

Alice took a few deep breaths of the sea air, watching a cormorant dive patiently again and again in the water and reappear in the foaming tide below her. No matter how hard she tried she often found herself overwhelmed by loneliness. With Liam gone she suddenly found that she had no one to share her life, her home or her bed with. It was awful to wake up day after day and have no one to chat to over breakfast, to
argue with or discuss articles in the papers or the news. To plan for the future with, let alone holidays or weekends or nights out. No one to laugh or joke with, confide in or simply to hug and hold. The boring routines of married life and living with a spouse were now gone from her as she faced the cold harsh fact of being a single woman again. The bloody loneliness of it could drive a person mad, she suspected, no matter how supportive their children and family and friends were. There was no escaping the fact that she was on her own now and had to get used to it. The tide was in and she walked quickly, glad of her navy fleece and scarf as there was quite a wind out there. Then she turned and headed back towards Monkstown.

‘Come on, Lexy, let’s get home and get something to eat.’

Passing by the old stone Martello Tower on the seafront she turned up home, thanking heaven that for the moment she still had the house on Martello Avenue to live in. So far Liam hadn’t the gall to go after that but she worried he might force her to sell the family home and move somewhere else. She loved the old red-bricked house they had bought off the busy Monkstown Road at an auction. They had ignored the rotting windows and roof problems and ancient kitchen and grumbling heating system, lured instead by the friendly neighbourhood, the long sun-filled back garden where the children could play, and the view of the sea at the end of their road. It was twelve years before they could afford to do up the house the way they wanted to. The death of Alice’s generous Aunt Betty enabled her to repay their mortgage ahead of schedule and build a wonderful bright sunny kitchen extension and family room and upgrade the rest of the house. Liam had
wanted her to invest her inheritance in some fancy new apartments that were being built in the city centre, but wisely she had refused, knowing in her heart that eighty-three-year-old Betty, who had been a regular visitor to their home, would have preferred the money to be invested in number 23 Martello Avenue. So nearly all Betty’s money had gone into their home, and Alice had absolutely no intention of selling it or moving away, no matter what Liam and Elaine did!

She flicked on the CD player as she began to make a salad and popped her dinner in the oven to heat. She’d made a creamy cheese and ham pasta bake and it smelled delicious. She slipped off her trainers and curled up on the leather couch in the kitchen. Sean had told her this morning he’d be late home so she’d save him some. Nothing unusual in that, as like most students he practically lived on UCD’s campus! His life revolved around the student bar, restaurant and the gym; although she supposed he did attend a few lectures in arts, his chosen subject, as he had passed his first-year exams with flying colours. Sean was flinging himself into the college social scene and the smell in his room some mornings would rival the Guinness brewery. With his sandy-coloured hair and lean build he was a lot like Liam, but he had Alice’s manner and sense of humour and blue eyes. She liked having her youngest still living at home, even if he did drive her crazy with his constant computer games and hours on Facebook. When he was in the house there was music and noise, the phone ringing, friends calling, but once he left she was conscious of the silence and loneliness that sometimes gripped her. Tonight he was going to see some new indie band playing in town.

She glanced at the newspaper. She read a few pages and
then turned to the back – sudoku or crossword? She would do one before she ate and one after. It was one of the luxuries of being on her own: being able to read the paper in her own fashion without Liam monopolizing it. She was engrossed in the puzzle when the doorbell went.

‘Hey, Alice, thought I’d just call in and see what happened about the job.’ Joy had been delayed at work and was only on her way home to Shankill now.

‘I’m finishing up in Ronan, Ryan & Lewis’s next Friday.’ Alice grinned. ‘And it’s such a relief.’

‘There’s nothing worse than being unhappy in work and trying to hide it,’ her friend said seriously.

‘I was worried about letting them down. But Hugh says they’ve got someone else lined up to take over till Maria, the full-time person, comes back … so it all worked out fine.’

‘There, I told you it would be all right.’

‘Have you eaten yet?’ Alice offered.

‘Alice, I’m not landing myself on you for another meal. We had a meeting with the third-year parents and you know these things. They always overrun and seem to go on for ever. I just dropped in to make sure you were OK.’

‘You haven’t eaten yet, so stay and have some dinner with me!’ offered Alice. ‘You know I hate eating by myself. Sean’s out, so there’s plenty.’

‘Smells good,’ admitted Joy, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

Alice set an extra place and served up the pasta bake with salad and a helping of tomatoes and vinaigrette.

‘Tastes gorgeous,’ said Joy. ‘Sure beats my usual baked beans and toast or a fried egg.’

Alice laughed. Joy lived in a nice two-bedroomed
bungalow near Shankill. She had absolutely zero interest in cooking and her small galley-style kitchen was barely used except for the sturdy microwave.

‘So what next?’ quizzed Joy, as she helped herself to some more salad.

‘I haven’t a clue,’ admitted Alice. ‘I’ll have to do something to make a bit of money, but I don’t have any ideas yet.’

‘Well, we’ll all have to get our thinking caps on and see what kind of opportunities are out there for a talented woman like you.’

Alice had to laugh. Joy believed everyone had an innate talent or gift, and it was just a question of discovering it. No wonder she did so well as a career guidance counsellor in the big secondary school she worked in over in Ballinteer. The kids and their parents loved her, as she would leave no stone unturned in finding out what pupils were good at and the avenues they should explore in their career and studies.

‘When did you say you’re finishing up in work?’

‘Next Friday.’

‘Then what about a girly celebration meal on Saturday night?’

‘That sounds great.’

‘What about that nice Italian in Dalkey? I’ll check if the others can make it and book a table in Da Vino’s for us.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Alice said. ‘I can take the DART out to Dalkey.’

When Joy had left Alice returned to the solitary glory of the crossword in
The Times
, while listening to the evening news.

Lucy stood in the queue for signing on for her social welfare payment … the dole. She hated it. Standing there at the hatch and filling in the forms like she had to do every few weeks. It was embarrassing and soul-destroying, with everyone avoiding eye-contact and hoping that they wouldn’t meet someone they knew or went to school or college with. She was grateful that her line wasn’t too busy.

It was bad enough at her age being out of work and trying to find a job, but it was the grey-haired middle-aged men she pitied, and the big strong guys in their thirties. They had not only lost jobs in the construction business but in banking and law firms, and had a constant haunted expression in their eyes. They were lumbered with kids and family and mortgages and loans, and she had utterly no idea how they managed on the government payment they received. She found it hard enough to get by. It was awful not having a job, and she was embarrassed by it.

‘You’ve been paying tax long enough, Lucy. You are only getting back a fraction of what you’ve paid over the years!’ her dad had reminded her. ‘Remember that.’

Dad was right. Since she was about sixteen she had always had some sort of job. Realizing that she really wasn’t academic, she had started working at weekends and on Thursday and Friday evenings, when she probably should have been studying. She’d worked in restaurants, bars, pizza places, clothes shops – and then got involved working at most of the major concerts held in the Point and Oxegen and the RDS and Croke Park and Slane. Hail, rain or shine she’d be there, selling programmes and T-shirts and drinks. U2, Bon Jovi, the Foo Fighters, Snow Patrol, Bob Dylan, and even the Red Hot Chili Peppers; she’d seen them all perform live and loved the buzz of the music and crowds. That’s where she’d got to know Jeremy, who would usually be trying to push some new upcoming singer-songwriter or small band, and she was thrilled when he offered her a job in the shop.

Phoenix Records was just such a cool place she didn’t see how she would ever find anywhere like it to work ever again. Still, beggars can’t be choosers, and at this stage, with a massive overdraft and large credit-card bill, she just had to take whatever job came her way.

Up at hatch 5 she filled in the form.

‘How’s it going, Lucy?’ asked Brian, the guy behind the counter. He was from Tipperary, and being a civil servant had a cushy number, with constant breaks, a guaranteed salary and job security. The social welfare office moved at snail’s pace, with Lucy and the rest of those signing on watching enviously as the staff disappeared for their regulation tea breaks and phone breaks. Still, Brian was a decent enough guy, and used to buy the odd CD from her in Phoenix Records.

‘Nothing doing!’ she sighed. ‘Absolutely nothing.’

‘Well, check in with the FÁS office and see if they have something.’

‘Sure,’ she promised.

The jobs up on the board across the street in the FÁS employment office were poxy, and most involved having qualifications. Employers expected degrees, or all kinds of computer and specialist knowledge, which she did not have.

There was one sign up on the revolving stand for an experienced shop assistant in a new baby and children’s wear shop in Dundrum shopping centre and, taking down the code, she went to enquire about it. Maybe it was the kind of job that might suit her. She could get the bus over to Dundrum, and she liked kids and babies.

‘We filled that position two days ago,’ the girl at enquiries informed her rudely when she gave the code.

‘Then why is it still up?’

‘A mistake, someone forgot to take it down.’

Annoyed, Lucy moved away.

She was heading towards the employment office’s fancy glass doors when she spotted Finn McEvoy. He’d been in college with her and played drums in a rock band that had broken up.

‘Hey, Lucy, I thought it was you,’ called the tall guy in the navy jacket and frayed jeans.

She coloured, then remembered that by virtue of being in the same place they were likely both in the same situation: unemployed and broke.

‘Finn,’ she said, giving him a quick hug. ‘How are things?’

‘Could be better!’ he said. ‘Nothing doing today, by the look of it.’

Lucy felt sympathy for him. He’d been a bit of a swot in college, from what she remembered, very focused on his studies and work.

‘I’ve been working for Browne & Dunne, the big engineering company, for the past three years. But I was put on a three-day week last year, and now with no new jobs or projects coming into the firm I’ve had to sign on. They say when things pick up I can try for my old job back, but to be honest there’s no sign of anything like that happening.’

‘You were in that big glass building down near the docks?’ Lucy asked, impressed.

‘Aidan Brown helped to design it himself. Solar power, the lot. Unfortunately there are two floors of it empty now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Lucy.

‘I’m just one of many,’ he said, shaking his wavy black hair. ‘What about you?’

‘I worked for Phoenix Records, remember.’

‘That was such a shame they had to shut down,’ he said angrily. ‘I remember they sold about two hundred copies of a CD the band and I made when we were younger. Made us feel like we were a proper band, even though we were only about eighteen.’

‘Jeremy was great at that.’

They began walking through the door, and standing outside realized that despite the winter sunshine it was actually chilly.

‘Do you fancy a coffee?’ he asked. ‘Or are you rushing off somewhere?’

‘Sure, that would be nice.’ She smiled. She had time to kill and it would be better than just hanging around back home.

‘There’s a nice place about two streets away,’ he said, as
they fell into step together. ‘And they do a great toasted bacon sandwich. I haven’t even had breakfast yet.’

Lucy watched from the corner of her eyes as Finn tucked into the sandwich, with its layers of bacon, brown sauce, cheese, sausage and tomato. It was a meal in itself, and he wolfed it down.

‘So what do you do with yourself?’ she asked, curious, stirring her mug of tea. ‘Do you still play drums?’

‘Big time!’ He munched. ‘The only good thing to come out of this bloody downturn is that we all have plenty of time to practise and jam and write music, I guess.’

‘Is the band still called STIX?’

‘Hey, you remember!’

‘I saw you guys play a few times.’

‘We’ve put a few new tracks up on Myspace and YouTube and set up our Facebook page. We’ve had lots of downloads already.’

‘That’s great!’ she said admiringly.

‘What about you?’

‘I’m just doing stuff trying to get a job. I used to share a house with some friends, but now I’ve had to move back home.’

‘Bummer.’

‘I’m thinking of doing some kind of course, just to have something to do. Get me out at night!’