Between The Sheets (7 page)

It still stunned Gus when he thought about how quickly they'd clicked. They could discuss politics, have a laugh and talk avidly about every issue under the sun. At the same time, there was an unmistakable frisson between them; their attraction to each other was almost palpable. Gus had just turned thirty-four when they met and had been in enough relationships to realize that this was the real thing. He had proposed within weeks, seeing no point in wasting time, and, happily, Dana had agreed.

Gus had hoped that they would spend most of their time in Bantry; it was the perfect place for Dana to write and he could easily commute to work in Dublin a couple of days a week. But Dana had other ideas. She loved the farmhouse, he didn't doubt that, but there was something about the solitude that seemed to unnerve her. After a couple of days there she would start to get restless and edgy and finally find some excuse to return to Dublin. He had accepted this without giving it much thought, but lately it had occurred to him that perhaps it was being alone with him that was the problem.

In hindsight, though, he wondered if the rural location just reminded her too much of home and her unhappy childhood. He didn't know much about Dana's family and she'd never told him the reason they were estranged. He had broached the subject several times in the early days but Dana made it clear that she found it too painful to talk about. He was aware that she'd visited a psychiatrist and had taken antidepressants for a time so he left it at that. Rightly or wrongly he'd allowed her to pull a veil over her previous life in Wexford, and he put his efforts into making her life with him as happy as was humanly possible.

He'd thought he'd succeeded but he'd been fooling himself, or, rather, she'd made a fool of him. When they made love, Gus was sure that she cared as much about him as he did about her. He felt her give herself totally to him in those intimate moments and he would forget everyone and everything when she was in his arms. It had been that way right up until the end. He remembered vividly the last night he'd held her in his arms. It had been the day he'd found the letters; the day when everything had changed.

They had gone to a party later and he had watched her move easily through the room, like a beautiful butterfly flitting from flower to flower. There had been little opportunity for them to talk and he'd been glad of that. He'd had so much information to process, his head was reeling. He'd watched her all night, wondering how he could have lived with her all these years and not really known her.

When they got home late that night, she had turned to him in bed and he had taken her quickly, almost violently. At first she'd been surprised by his roughness, then she responded with passion. How could she possibly fake this? But how could she possibly love him and be so duplicitous at the same time?

As they'd lain together he'd held her body close to his and wished he'd never seen the bloody letters.

He'd been in the garage hunting for the old jacket he wore when he washed the cars, and had come across a large box; it must have been sitting there since they'd moved in. It was probably just old manuscripts — Dana, superstitiously, liked to keep hard copies. He was about to dump it in the bin but then realized he should check it first, in case there were any personal papers that needed shredding.

When he tore the box open it was to find that it was full of press cuttings and old publicity shots of Dana, with a variety of hairstyles dating back to long before he'd met her. Chuckling, he flicked through them, wondering which would be the best one to produce at a dinner party to embarrass her. As he reached the bottom of the box, his fingers closed around a thick envelope. Pulling it out he frowned when he saw that it was sealed. Hesitating for only a moment — it wasn't addressed to anyone and was probably just more photos — he opened it and pulled out several smaller envelopes. None of them were addressed and they were all sealed. He stared at them, wondering what he had stumbled on. These hadn't got here by accident. They had been deliberately hidden and they must have been hidden by his wife.

He tried to push away the feeling of unease that was gripping him; there was sure to be an innocent explanation. Perhaps they were love letters from an old boyfriend. If they were, Dana obviously hadn't been interested in this rather old-fashioned suitor or she would have opened them. Of course they didn't necessarily have to be from her past. Dana was a very attractive woman and Gus had seen plenty of men eyeing her up. But just because someone fancied her, didn't mean she returned the feelings; it didn't mean she was guilty of anything.

Curiosity mixed with jealousy got the better of him and he opened one of the envelopes, taking care to ease up the flap without tearing it. There were two sheets of heavy, cream paper inside and he slid them out, hesitating before unfolding them. It would be an invasion of privacy to read the contents but there was no way he could stop himself now. He smoothed out the pages and read quickly. The first thing that surprised him was the date; the second, the signature. 'What the hell...'

'Do you think they'll get back together?' Ashling asked sleepily. She was stretched out on their bed beside Tom, who was going over some papers for the next day.

'What?' he asked absently.

'Gus and Dana, do you think they'll get back together?'

'Probably.'

She propped herself up on one arm so she could look at him properly. 'Why?'

He took off his reading glasses and shrugged. 'He's obviously miserable without her.'

'But then why did he leave?'

'God knows.'

'She must have done something really bad to make him walk out like that. Either that or he's found out something about her; something she's kept secret from him.'

Tom grinned at his wife's intentness. 'If you say so, Miss Marple.'

'I'm right, you just wait and see,' she told him, wriggling down in the bed and snuggling up against him. 'Gus isn't the sort of man to leave without a reason.'

'There could be someone else,' Tom mused.

'You know there isn't,' Ashling protested. 'Gus might have been a bit of a playboy in the past, but he's never so much as looked at another woman since he met Dana.'

'And you know this how?' he teased.

She pulled a face. 'I just know.'

'Of course you do.'

'You know I'm right.'

'Yes,' he agreed. 'I would be surprised if he'd found someone else. For a start, I don't think he'd be underhand about it. But why is he being so secretive?'

Ashling shrugged. 'Chivalry? Pride? Embarrassment? Who knows?'

'Not me, that's for sure.'

'He'll tell you when he's good and ready, Tom, and I bet it will make sense to you when he does.'

'What do you mean?'

She shook her head. 'I'm not sure. I just feel there's something not quite right about Dana. Even after six years I don't really feel that I know her that well.'

'She's a private person; there's nothing wrong with that.'

'She's also a very isolated one. Do you remember their wedding? She didn't have one member of her family there.'

'Not all families are like yours,' Tom teased. He'd often joked that when he married Ashling, he'd also married her three sisters as they seemed to spend as much time in his house as he did.

'Yes, but where were her friends?'

'She had friends there,' he protested. 'What about her bridesmaid and flower girl? And then there was the guy who gave her away.'

Ashling shook her head in exasperation. 'You have a lousy memory. Her bridesmaid was that girl Judy, her old schoolfriend. The flower girl was some relation of Gus's and it was her agent who gave her away.'

'Oh, yeah.'

'It was all very weird,' Ashling murmured.

'What's even more weird, Mrs Cleary, is that we're still talking about her,' Tom said, pulling her as close as her bump would allow.

Ashling smiled as she wound her arms around his neck. 'So what are you going to do about it, Mr Cleary?'

Dana sat in her office, staring out into the garden. She had drunk pot after pot of coffee, finally switching to wine at two. When Iris had insisted on making her a chicken salad, her whole body bristling with disapproval, Dana had suppressed a smile. Iris had never let a drop of alcohol pass her lips and didn't begin to understand why anyone would. She saw drink as the road to ruin, and Dana knew she was finding it hard to sit back and say nothing as the empties started to build up in the bottle bin outside the back door.

Dana was past caring. She found it hard to get through the day and wine made it slightly easier. When Sylvie was here, Dana kept to her bedroom, unable to cope with the PA's nervous chatter and worried looks. The rest of the time she sat in her office with the door firmly shut and stared at her blank screen. Occasionally she had spurts of creativity and would write a page or two, but when she read it back she always felt it had no vibrancy or pace. It was as if her whole way of looking at things was skewed. She couldn't see the point in carrying on and neither, so it seemed, could her characters.

She had managed to continue dodging calls from Gretta and Wally, although it wasn't fair to Sylvie. Her PA was looking increasingly stressed and frustrated. It did make Dana feel guilty; just not guilty enough to do anything about it. She didn't worry too much about Gretta. She didn't owe the woman anything. But Wally was different. She knew he must be climbing the walls. She just couldn't deal with his disappointment right now, though. She felt apathetic and jaded and nothing — not even the fact that she was probably throwing away her chance to finally make it big in Ireland and the UK — seemed important any more.

Dana had never seen herself as the kind of woman that would fall apart over a man. In the past, she had always been the one to leave, and her romances had never lasted longer than a few months. But it was different with Gus. She had found something unique behind those twinkling eyes, and her hard shell had softened in the heat of his charm and passion.

Dana glanced at the clock. Nearly three o'clock; time for another drink.

Iris was sitting at the kitchen table polishing cutlery when she walked in.

'Mrs Johnson — sorry — I mean Dana, can I help you?'

'No thanks.' Dana went to the fridge to fetch the wine. She was on her way back to the office when she heard the buzzer announcing that there was someone at the gate.

Iris came out to answer it.

'I'm not here,' Dana said quickly.

Iris nodded briefly and took up the handset. 'Hello?'

'Hello, is Dana there? It's Ashling.'

'No, I'm afraid—'

'No!' Dana had stopped and turned around. 'You can let her in. Show her into the sitting room. I'll be there in a minute.'

'I'm sorry, Mrs Cleary, I was mistaken, she is here. I'll open the gates for you.'

Dana hurried upstairs and changed out of her pyjamas into jeans and a white shirt. Her hair was greasy so the only thing she could really do was pull it into a knot on top of her head. She sighed when she looked in the mirror at the result. Her skin was pale, and without the miracle of make-up you could see lines around her eyes and mouth. No doubt stress and alcohol had taken their toll. But she didn't really care. Still, she didn't want Ashling to pity her or, worse, tell Gus she was letting herself go. Quickly she slapped on some tinted moisturizer, rubbed some cream blusher into her cheeks and lined her eyes with kohl. She stood back and examined her handiwork. It was only marginally better but it would have to do. She couldn't keep Ashling waiting any longer.

She took a deep breath before pushing open the door of the sitting room and going to greet her guest. 'Ashling, how lovely to see you.' They hugged briefly and then Dana stepped back to look at the other girl. She was hugely pregnant and it suited her. Ashling's eyes were bright and clear, her hair shone in the afternoon sunlight and she oozed happiness. She was only two years younger than Dana but she could easily pass for thirty. 'My goodness, look at you!'

'I know, I look like an elephant,' Ashling said but her smile was radiant.

'You look absolutely wonderful.' Dana gestured to the sofa and looked up to see Iris standing in the doorway. 'Tea?' she asked Ashling.

'That would be lovely.'

'And coffee for me, thanks, Iris.' Dana turned back to Ashling. 'How have you been?'

'Fine, absolutely fine. And you?'

'I'm fine too.' Dana smiled brightly. She was full of questions: where is he, what's he doing, is he seeing anyone? But she was damned if she was going to ask. 'How's Tom?' she asked instead.

'Fine, though I think he's a bit nervous about becoming a parent.'

'He'll be great at it, you both will,' Dana said and she meant it. Tom and Ashling were a lovely couple and she missed them.

'Thanks.'

There was an awkward silence, then they both started talking at once.

'I'm sorry about—'

'I hope you don't mind—'

They laughed.

'You first,' Dana said.

'I was just going to say I'm so sorry about you and Gus.'

Dana looked down at her hands. 'Me too.'

'It came as a complete shock to us,' Ashling told her. 'We had no idea that you were having any problems.'

'We weren't. Did Gus say we were?' she asked sharply.

'He hasn't told us anything.' Ashling stopped as Iris entered with a tray. 'Thanks so much, you're very kind,' she said to the housekeeper.

Iris nodded. 'You're very welcome, Mrs Cleary.'

'She's so old-fashioned, isn't she?' Ashling said when they were alone again.

'I couldn't handle being called Mrs Johnson any more and I told her to call me Dana. She almost chokes every time she tries to say it.'

'You're still Mrs Johnson,' Ashling said softly. 'Don't write him off just yet.'

Dana couldn't keep quiet any longer. 'Has he said anything to you or Tom?' she asked anxiously.

Ashling shook her head. 'Not a word. It's been driving me mad, to be honest. I've always been a nosy cow.'

Dana was torn between relief that Gus wasn't discussing their marriage with everyone and frustration because it meant she was still none the wiser.