Always You (11 page)

She had dressed with great care for tonight, rejecting outfit after outfit until her bed was piled high with clothes, and she finally settled on a red crepe dress and high-heeled black boots. Not too smart, not too casual. But now the shiny patent boots felt too sexy and the dress too tight. What the hell was she doing here? Cahal was a married man with a family. What did he want with her after all these years? Her stomach tightened and she pulled her wool coat tighter around her body.

Movement inside the restaurant caught her eye. A waiter went over and exchanged a few words with Cahal, then wandered off with an empty glass in his hand. Cahal pulled a mobile out of his pocket, frowned at it, then glanced at the window. And even though she knew he would see nothing but a reflection of himself in the glass, she jumped back all the same, her heart thumping against her ribs. She was already ten minutes late and it would be incredibly rude to keep him waiting any longer. She ought to go inside now. But her feet were rooted to the spot.

She leaned against the wall and looked up at the inky sky. A cool breeze fanned her flushed cheeks. He’d said they needed to talk. But what was there to talk about except the past and what had gone wrong between them? She hated to recall the painful memories, and the good ones were even worse. They only served as cruel reminders of the love and happiness she had known and lost. And a little, cruel part of her wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine – she wanted him to know what it was like to wait for someone. She was wiser now, more cautious, and she would never let anyone break her heart again.

*

Cahal stood as still and unyielding as a rock in the airport foyer, ignoring the people streaming around him. Flight information flickered on the screens above his head. Sarah stood before him, her eyes itchy from crying, legs swaying beneath her. She felt like she was swimming against the tide, against a current that she feared would prove too strong.

‘Please, Cahal,’ she said for the hundredth time that morning. ‘Don’t go.’

She clutched the arm of his battered leather jacket and stared into his red-rimmed eyes. But there was no softness there, only hard, glassy stubbornness. ‘Please.’

‘I have to.’ He looked down and gently peeled her hand from his arm. It hung by her side like a dead weight. ‘We’ve been through this a thousand times, Sarah. You know what I want.’

She stifled a sob. If she started crying again, she knew she would not stop. ‘I can’t. You know I can’t. You know what it would mean.’

The corner of his mouth twitched and he gave her a withering look. ‘That’s what you keep saying.’

‘Just give me two months. That’s all I ask.’

‘No.’

‘When will I hear from you again?’

‘I’ll write to you,’ he said, grim-faced. ‘I promise.’ And he turned and walked away.

She stood with her fist stuffed into her mouth, watching the back of his head and his broad, square shoulders disappear in the crowd, believing that he would turn round any minute, any second, and come running back to her. He would not leave her. She could not survive without him.

But his head remained resolutely fixed straight ahead and suddenly he was at the security gate. He handed over his passport and ticket. She started to move towards him, mouthing silent words, her eyes wide in disbelief. He would not do this, he would not leave her. But then, just like that, he was gone.

Sarah brushed a tear from her eye and felt a spit of rain, like a hot spark, on her cheek. Despite his promise, he’d never written. Not once. In desperation she’d tried to contact him. She’d no address for him in Australia, so she’d sent a letter care of his parents. She’d gone round to their flat one day and slipped the envelope through their letterbox before running away. But she’d never received a reply.

She closed her eyes. Becky was right. All Cahal wanted was the chance to say sorry, the opportunity to salve his guilty conscience. Her throat tightened. She clenched her teeth so tightly, her jaw ached. He wanted her to absolve him. He wanted her to say she forgave him for breaking her heart.

She opened her eyes. Through the restaurant window she watched Cahal pick the phone up, peer at the screen – and set it down again. What she’d said to Becky about being curious was true, but the real reason she’d agreed to meet him was more foolish. She wanted to feel once more the love they had shared, to relive the happiest days of her life. She still ached for the Cahal she had adored.

But that Cahal was long gone. The urbane, sophisticated man on the other side of the glass had a wife and family. She had an ex-husband and two children. It was too late to turn back the clock.

A car pulled into the car park. Briefly she was caught in the headlights. She covered her face with her arm and realised how ridiculous she must look, hiding in the foliage. The car parked and the couple inside got out, put up an umbrella and walked down the road without looking at her. She was really late now. But still she could not move.

Cahal could not be trusted.

If he’d only listened to her. If he’d only given her more time. But he would not do either. It was his way, or no way.

She could pinpoint the exact moment when it had all started to go sour.

It was Sunday night and she was returning from the long Easter break spent with her family in Ballyfergus. Cahal had stayed in Portstewart over the Easter holidays – just as he did every holiday. On the platform in Coleraine station, she saw him before he saw her, his hands shoved in the pockets of his brown leather jacket, which he wore in spite of the warm summery weather. He looked a little worried, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scanned the crowd of chattering students returning for the summer term. Her heart fluttered in her breast; she quickened her step, picking her way through the crowd. When he saw her, a smile that obliterated everything else lit up his face. She ran to him, her enormous bag banging against her legs, and threw her arms around his neck. He kissed her on the lips fierce and hard. She closed her eyes and drank him in.

‘Jesus, I’ve missed you,’ he said, holding her head in his hands. His thumbs and fingertips pressed into her skull, at once soothing and stoking her desire. His gaze travelled up her face, searching, as if he was mapping out her features in his mind. He kissed her on both eyelids, then let go of her head.

She pressed her cheek against his rough, late afternoon stubble. He smelt of cigarettes and sweat. ‘I missed you too, love,’ she said, pulling away a little and running her hand through his thick, black curls. Every nerve in her body tingled.

His pupils dilated. ‘Your place or mine?’

‘Mine,’ she said huskily. ‘The flat’s empty. No one’s back till tomorrow.’

He grabbed her bag then and swung it over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all. Then he led her by the hand out of the station.

Outside, dusk was falling on a fair and still day. They stood apart from the other people waiting for the bus. She noticed that the skin under his eyes was grey. ‘Have you been working a lot?’

He let out a long sigh. ‘Yeah. I’ve been pretty much full time at the pub. The hot weather’s been good for business.’

For the last three years he’d worked term time and the Easter and summer holidays at The Anchor bar in Portstewart, a favourite student haunt. But his exams were only weeks away. It wasn’t fair that he had to work so hard. ‘Did you manage to get any studying done?’

He shrugged. ‘Not as much as I would’ve liked. But I’m not complaining. I need the money, Sarah.’

She bit her lip and thought about the cheque her father had just given her, burning a hole in her pocket. ‘I could help you. Then you wouldn’t have to work so much.’

His right eyelid flickered. ‘Don’t say that again. I won’t take money from you. I can look after myself.’

The bus came, cutting the conversation short, and when they’d boarded and were seated together he said, ‘Well, how did it go?’

Her stomach muscles clenched but not with desire. ‘Fine,’ she said breezily, taking a big breath to hold down the feeling of nausea. ‘I got a lot of revision done but I wish I could’ve been up here with you.’

His grip on her hand slackened. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

She looked out the window at the red-pink sky and felt her face go the same colour, while her heartbeat fluttered. She had made him a promise and she had broken it.

He released her hand, discarding it like something unwanted, and she withdrew it onto her own lap.

‘You didn’t tell them, did you?’

She blinked at the setting sun, a ball of orange on the horizon, then looked at the Claddagh ring on the wedding finger of her left hand. The ring had spent the last fortnight in the zipped breast pocket of her jacket – she’d only slipped it on her finger when the train had left Ballyfergus station that afternoon.

‘I tried to,’ she said honestly. Every morning she had risen with fresh resolve but every day her courage failed. ‘You don’t understand what they’re like, Cahal.’

Silence.

‘I don’t care so much what my aunt thinks. But my father.’ She fought back tears. ‘Him and Becky are all I’ve got. But I really think that if he got to know you –’

‘Got to know me?’ growled Cahal, his nostrils flaring. ‘How can he get to know me if he won’t even meet me? My family weren’t exactly thrilled when I told them I was going out with you but at least they’re not so bigoted that they refused to meet you.’

Sarah blushed with shame, reluctant to admit that, while religion undoubtedly played a part in her father’s objections, Cahal’s low-class background and his father’s criminal convictions counted for far more.

She’d felt out of place as soon as she set foot on the Drumalis estate, which she had never before visited. The small flat stank of cigarette smoke and his mother made her uncomfortable, flapping about as if she were royalty and apologising for everything from the chipped mugs to the broken biscuits. His father sat mute in the corner, staring at her through a cloud of pale blue smoke.

She rubbed the Claddagh ring between finger and thumb as if it might produce a genie with an answer to the dilemma.

‘And how come they didn’t notice the ring then?’

Sarah lifted her right shoulder a little and lied to him for the first time. ‘I guess they weren’t paying attention.’

He stared at it coldly. ‘Until you tell them, Sarah, we can’t tell anyone else. And until that happens we’re not engaged.’

‘But we are,’ she protested feebly, his words pricking holes in her happiness.

‘No we’re not. An engagement is a public declaration of an intention to marry.’ His bottom lip quivered and she hated herself for inflicting pain on him. The same way she hated the look of quiet misery that crossed her father’s face when Cahal’s name was mentioned.

‘I thought you loved me, Sarah.’

‘I do.’

‘Then show it.’

The phone in her pocket vibrated, bringing Sarah back to the present. Cahal was still sitting at the table in the restaurant. She pulled the phone out of her bag, her hands shaking. It was Cahal. When she touched her cheek, she was surprised to find cold tears clinging to her face.

Cahal had been wrong. She had loved him with all her heart but she had loved her family too. He could never understand her devotion to them. He made it sound so simple, but it wasn’t. And what had he done to save the relationship? Nothing. When things got tough, he’d run away to the other side of the world.

On the other side of the glass, Cahal was talking to the waiter again, but this time there was no trace of good humour in his expression. She wished he had never come back. His presence reminded her of a past she would rather forget and forced her to examine the present – and find it wanting. She should not have come.

A trickle of rain ran into the collar of Sarah’s coat, shockingly cold against her hot skin. Cahal handed something to the waiter and stood up. Her heart pounded so loudly it filled her ears with noise. Grimly she pulled the collar of her coat tight, turned her back on the brightly lit window, and fled into the night.

‘What’s wrong?’ said Becky, as soon as Sarah stepped inside, dripping water onto the doormat. ‘Why are you back so early?’

Sarah dropped her bag on the floor and chucked the car keys on the hall table. A noise came from upstairs.

Becky put a finger to her lips and pulled Sarah into the lounge, shutting the door behind her. She picked up the TV remote and pressed a button. The image of a crumbling edifice bathed in hot Mediterranean sun disappeared from the screen. ‘The kids aren’t long in bed,’ said Becky. ‘Lewis is probably asleep, but Molly’s reading. Do you want to go up and see her?’

Sarah shook her head miserably and ran her hands down her face.

‘That bad, uh?’ said Becky. ‘Give me your coat. And I’ll get a towel.’

Becky disappeared with the coat and came back with a towel which she handed to Sarah and watched while she rubbed her hair. ‘How come you got so wet?’

Sarah handed the towel to Becky, looked into her concerned eyes and her bottom lip wobbled. ‘Oh, Becky,’ she said, and promptly burst into tears.

Becky put her arms around her and held her until the tears had stopped. Then she manoeuvred her gently into the big armchair by the gas fire. ‘Come and sit down, and you can tell me all about it.’

Once settled in front of the fire with a fleece blanket around her shoulders and a very large hot whiskey in her hand, Sarah started to feel better. Becky came in carrying a tumbler of steaming amber liquid with a slice of lemon floating in it.

Sarah took a swig of the whiskey and winced. It was strong and burned on the way down, setting her gullet on fire. She smiled weakly at Becky, warmth spreading through her. ‘I chickened out.’

‘What do you mean you chickened out? Hold on a minute, I need a cigarette. Do you mind?’

Sarah shook her head, too distressed to object to Becky smoking indoors.

Once she’d lit the cigarette and taken a couple of deep puffs, Becky said, ‘Okay.’

Sarah looked into her drink. ‘I stood outside in the rain watching him through the window – and then … then I just came home.’

Becky raised her eyebrows. ‘But why?’

Sarah shrugged. ‘It’s complicated.’

Becky took another puff on the cigarette and her face hardened. ‘Well, maybe it’s just as well you did, Sarah. And maybe you should give him a wide berth in the future. Don’t you remember what a mess you were in that summer he went to Australia?’

Cahal had left in June, not long after his finals. By mid-July she’d given up hope of ever hearing from him again and had taken to her bed. ‘How could I forget?’

Becky leaned over, tapped ash into a mug on the floor beside her chair and said, ‘You waited months for a letter from him but none came. We were all so worried for you. We thought you were having a breakdown.’

‘I think I probably did have one.’

As this comment settled between them Sarah said, ‘I knew Dad was worried when he brought me that bunch of chrysanthemums to try and cheer me up. He’d never brought me flowers before – and he hasn’t since.’ As a rule, their Presbyterian father didn’t believe in ostentation and undue expense, and cut flowers for the home definitely fell into that category, unless they came from the garden. ‘He sat on the edge of the bed and he looked so miserable. He said, I’ll do anything to make you better, Sarah. To make you happy again. Just tell me. Anything. I told him all I wanted was Cahal and … well,’ she said, unable to go on, ‘you know the rest.’

‘He was beside himself,’ confirmed Becky. ‘Aunt Vi too.’

‘The flowers did the trick,’ Sarah said, swallowing the sadness like a pill, and attempting a laugh. ‘Thinking about Dad’s worry was the first time I’d thought about anyone but myself for weeks.’ She stared into the distance for a few moments. ‘You know, the hardest thing was accepting that Dad and Aunt Vi had been right about Cahal all along. I believed in him but he let me down like they said he would. Anyway,’ she said with a sniff, ‘I got over him in the end.’

‘Have you though?’ Becky threw back the rest of her drink and Sarah felt her cheeks colour.

Becky set the glass on the floor and stared at the tip of her cigarette. ‘Going by the state of you, I’d say you’ve some way to go.’

Sarah blushed.

‘Why did you stand him up?’ Said Becky.

Sarah sighed. ‘I’m still angry with him, even after all these years. And I think what you said about him wanting me to forgive him was probably true. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Or, to be truthful, listen to him banging on about his wife and kids. Not when my personal life’s been such a disaster.’

‘Don’t say that!’ cried Becky. Ash fell from the end of the cigarette onto her lap. ‘Okay, your marriage didn’t work out but you had happy years with Ian before it went wrong. And you have the children.’

Sarah smiled. ‘The children are the best thing that ever happened to me. But the years with Ian, Becky.’ She swallowed and looked up sheepishly. ‘They weren’t happy. Not really.’

Becky stared, like a kid who’d just been told there was no Santa.

The truth stuck in Sarah’s throat like a fish bone. She coughed. ‘I … I never loved Ian.’

Becky blinked. She had always liked Ian – he’d been like a big brother to her – and she still had a soft spot for him. ‘That’s not true. You told me you did.’

Sarah looked her sister straight in the eye. ‘I thought I did. I
wanted
to love him so much that I convinced myself that I did. I thought that everything that was good and kind and honest about him would be enough to make me. But it wasn’t. I never should have married him. I respected him but I didn’t love him, not the way I ought to have. Not the way …’ her voice trailed off.

'… You loved Cahal Mulvenna?’ said Becky. She took another puff on the cigarette, the soft ‘pah’ of her lips round the filter the only sound in the room. Sarah had never admitted to anyone that she had not loved Ian. Winkling the truth out, she said at last, ‘Yes.’

The corners of Becky’s mouth turned down. ‘I’m shocked. Why did you never tell me this before?’

‘I was ashamed you’d think badly of me.’ She paused, waited without breathing. ‘Do you?’

‘No … I … I’m sorry, that’s all.’ Sarah breathed out a sigh of relief and Becky went on, ‘Poor Ian. Your marriage never really stood a chance, did it?’

‘I guess not.’

There was a long silence and Becky said, ‘So what happens now? Between you and Cahal Mulvenna?’

‘I dunno.’ Sarah pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. ‘I shouldn’t have run off like that, should I?’

Becky tapped the cigarette on the edge of the mug. ‘I think you ran away from your feelings as much as from him.’

‘I know,’ said Sarah staring at the rug.

‘Will you see him again?’

‘I doubt he’ll want to see me again after tonight.’

Becky let out a loud sigh and dropped the stub of the cigarette into the mug. ‘Just be … careful, Sarah. That’s all I ask.’

‘I will.’ Sarah smiled bravely and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘I think I’ll have an early night, if you don’t mind. I’m exhausted. You watch the rest of your programme. Just lock up when you go to bed.’

Becky yawned and stretched her arms above her head. ‘I might as well go home to my own bed.’

‘Sorry for mucking you about.’

‘You haven’t. Honestly.’

Sarah set the empty glass on the coffee table.

‘I’ve got some news too,’ said Becky, unfolding her legs.

‘Really?’ said Sarah. She draped the blanket over the back of the sofa and sat down again.

‘Remember that guy I told you about that started coming into the office?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Sarah, picking up the glass. ‘You went out for a drink with him a few times. He’s older than you by quite a bit though, isn’t he?’

‘Tony’s forty-two.’

The same age as Cahal. Sarah sucked air in through her teeth. ‘A bit of a sugar daddy then?’

Becky giggled. ‘No, he’s not. He doesn’t look old at all. More like suave and gentlemanly.’

Sarah laughed and blurted out, though it was a little mean, ‘That’ll be a change from your usual toy boys then!’

‘Stop it!’ cried Becky, though she was smiling.

‘Okay,’ said Sarah, pausing to catch her breath as she was laughing so hard. ‘But last time you mentioned him to me you weren’t so keen.’

‘Well,’ said Becky, rubbing the carpet with her toe. ‘I’ve gotten to know him a bit better, haven’t I?’

‘Have you been keeping secrets from me?’ she teased.

Becky blushed. ‘I didn’t mean to. It all happened so fast. Usually when we’ve gone for a drink we’ve been joined by other people but last night it was just us.’ She stared meaningfully at Sarah.

‘Oh God, don’t tell me you slept with him?’

Becky grinned. ‘Of course I did.’

Sarah tutted, and shook her head in despair. ‘Do you listen to a word I say, Becky?’ How could she protect her sister, like she’d promised her mother, if Becky wouldn’t listen to her? Then, seeing the dismay on Becky’s face, she smiled and said lightly, ‘Honestly, I don’t know what to do with you.’

Becky grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. ‘Well he did. He was amazing in –’

Sarah held up her hand. ‘Enough! I don’t want all the gory details.’ And then softening, she added, ‘But you like him, yeah?’

The crude expression on Becky’s face was replaced with an earnest one that plucked at Sarah’s heartstrings. ‘I do. We just get on so well. It’s as if we’ve known each other all our lives. He … he totally
gets
me, Sarah. I think he might be perfect!’

Sarah smiled to hide her concern and offered up a silent prayer that this man would treat Becky right. Trying not to sound too protective, she said cautiously, ‘No one’s perfect, Becky. But I’d love to meet him sometime.’

‘He wants to meet my family too,’ said Becky, and a little of Sarah’s pessimism lifted. Maybe he was serious after all.

‘I really, really hope it works out,’ she said. She set the glass down and went over and embraced Becky. ‘And thanks for listening to me, sweetie.’

Becky gave her a fierce hug in return. ‘That’s what sisters are for, silly.’

It was nine o’clock on Monday morning and Cahal was in the office, on the phone to Jed. Outside, the sky immediately over the city was clear, but a great charcoal cloud loomed over the Belfast Hills, threatening more rain. He’d been in Northern Ireland for ten days now and his prophecy to Jody had been proven right – it had rained every day, bar one. ‘Look son, it’s a bit difficult to talk just now,’ he said, nodding at Jody who’d just come in with a paper cup in her hand. ‘I’m in work.’

‘You say that every time I call.’

‘I’m sorry, son,’ he said, deflated. ‘I’ve just been a bit distracted lately, that’s all.’ Jed shouldn’t suffer just because he was pissed with Sarah. It was bad enough that he wasn’t there for his son physically. At the very least he should be there for him emotionally. He turned his back on Jody, who’d sat down at a table nearby and opened her laptop.

‘When are you coming home, Dad? I miss you.’

The knife twisted in his stomach. He felt a sudden, desperate need to see Jed, with his too-big nose waiting for the rest of his face to catch up and feathery down on his upper lip. He would need to start shaving soon. It was the most crucial time in Jed’s life, the transition from boy to man. A time when a boy needs a father most. He swallowed. ‘I’ll be home for your birthday at the end of May. For a couple of weeks. We’ll go up to the lake.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Now what was it you wanted to tell me?’

Jed took a deep breath and blurted out, ‘Rory’s having a sleepover on Saturday night and Mum says I can’t go.’

Cahal frowned. ‘That’s not like your Mum. You’ve been to sleepovers at Rory’s loads of times.’

‘I know,’ said Jed, sounding indignant. ‘So can I go and tell her that you said it was all right?’

‘You’re not grounded are you?’ said Cahal suspiciously.

Jed sighed down the phone. ‘No. I’d tell you if I was, wouldn’t I? Now, can I just go and tell her?’

Cahal rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Of the two of them, Adele had always been the free and easy parent, Cahal the disciplinarian. So what had changed? Brady, that’s what. Blood rushed to his head and his heartbeat quickened. He took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. ‘Where’s your Mum now, son?’

‘Er … in the kitchen tidying, I think.’

‘Can you put her on the phone?’

‘Um, she’s a bit busy, Dad.’

‘Put her on
now
,’ he said firmly.

‘All right. Keep your shirt on, Dad.’ Muffled sounds followed, there was a clattering of metal, and Adele came on the line.

‘Hey Cahal, how’s it going?’ she said, her voice relaxed and happy. He remembered something Sarah had said about her divorce being a good one. Though his had been desperately sad – the second great disappointment in his life, after losing Sarah – it had been amicable too. And Adele was happy – at least one of them was.

‘Fine. It’s bloody cold though,’ he said grumpily, feeling a sudden affection for the sunny Melbourne he had left behind.

Adele’s derisive laugh came down the phone. ‘And you wonder why I only visited the place once. It’s all blue skies and sunshine here.’

He imagined Brady tending the sunny garden that had once been his, and taking a break to lounge on the patio, sipping a freezing cold tinny of Vic Bitter. The muscles in his upper arms tensed. ‘Look, since when has Jed sleeping over at Rory’s been a problem?’

‘What did he …’ began Adele.

‘Has Brady put you up to this?’ demanded Cahal, the red heat of anger flaring up, the words slipping out against his better judgement. ‘He might be living under the same roof as the boys but he’s not their father.’

‘Now just a minute, Cahal,’ she said, her voice hardening. ‘Three things. Number one, this has got nothing to do with Brady. Number two, you chose to swan off to the other side of the world. And now you think you can come on the phone and give me grief about my parenting? I don’t think so, mate.’

‘I didn’t have any choice,’ he said.

‘There’s
always
a choice,’ she snapped back.

‘Yeah, and lose my job?’ he said, exaggerating a little. He wouldn’t have been sacked, but it would have harmed his career prospects. Refusing to come would’ve been interpreted as a lack of drive. And now he was so sorry he had. He missed his boys and the vague notion that he might, somehow, rekindle his relationship with Sarah had fallen flat on its face. He’d not heard a thing from her since she’d stood him up on Friday night, and he was still angry.