Champagne Kisses (18 page)

After a mini pep talk in the toilet mirror, I brushed myself off and strutted back into the office to collect my handbag and jacket.

Big girls don’t cry, I told myself as I stuck my right arm into my beige belted mac. I was just going to have to face Annette and be done with it.

Unfortunately by the time I had tunnelled my left arm through the other sleeve the tears had started to flow. So I slumped at my desk and began blubbing like a baby. Not caring who saw me I sobbed and yelped, until I heard Marcus in the background whispering loudly, ‘Check out crazy.’

Just like she said, Annette was waiting for me outside. She was pacing the pavement talking on her mobile, but the second she saw me she hung up with an abrupt, ‘She’s here.’

Dressed in a full-length cream wool coat, with large gold buttons, which matched her silky smooth hair, she looked the picture perfect wife. It was such a tragedy she wasn’t a contented happy one.

‘My car is just down the road. We can talk there.’ Her words were precise and calculated. As if she’d rehearsed them over in her head.

Trying to hide the fact that I was an emotional wreck, one who had just suffered something close to a mental breakdown just minutes before, I followed Annette’s lead and remained silent. Best not speak until spoken to in such a predicament, I thought.

Once seated inside her gorgeous silver CLK Merc,
Annette
didn’t waste any time in setting the record straight.

‘Understandably, I’m not your biggest fan, and even if this were a different situation I still don’t think we would be friends. But woman to woman I need you to be honest with me.’

Stunned by her candour, I released some stress in a long sigh and smiled. ‘Sure.’

‘Did you come on to David, or was it the other way round?’

‘Listen, Annette—’

‘Just answer the question, please. I feel my husband has been lying to me about any number of things, so tell me. Was it you, or was it him that did the leading on?’

‘Him.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Very …’ I held my breath, waiting for her reaction.

As my confirmation began to sink in, her eyes welled up with tears.

‘I know you’re telling the truth … I’ve only been fooling myself.’

Not sure what to say to the woman, I just sat frozen in my seat. What was appropriate behaviour when you tell a woman her husband is a lying, cheating scumbag? Should I hug her? Or just get out of the car and walk off?

Choosing the latter I pulled at the door handle and with a forced smiled said, ‘I’ll go now.’ But she wasn’t letting me go yet.

‘He’s done this before. David. You aren’t the only woman my husband has chased behind my back.’

‘Men are bastards,’ I told her, trying to nip her story in the bud.

‘Do you know where he is today?’

‘I don’t think I want to—’

‘Paris. The bastard is in Paris.’ ‘Oh.’

‘And do you know who he’s with in Paris?’

‘Annette, I don’t really—’

‘My fucking best friend, can you believe it? Maureen is in the most romantic city in the world with the love of my life. Bitch!’

‘Are you sure?’ I stupidly asked. My stomach was rumbling with hunger, and now I had shown interest in hearing her story, which I truly didn’t really want to hear, and all of a sudden food was far away.

‘People warned me about her, you know. They said she was only ever out for herself. But I loved her. She’s my best friend.
Was!
I did everything for her. I would have given her my last euro. My jewellery, anything, but not my husband, I can’t believe the bitch took my David.’

With that, Annette hung her head in her hands and wept. All the while I sat uncomfortably in silence.

‘I knew he played the field,’ she continued. ‘But I let him get away with it because he always came home to me. He was a lovable rogue – but with Maureen? That’s just unforgivable.’

As she delicately soaked up her tears with a spare
tissue
she pulled from her glovebox, making sure not to smudge her mascara, she settled her emotions and apologized for crying.

‘You must think I’m some eejit? Huh?’

‘God, no …’

‘And you’d be right. I’ve been so stupid, but not any more … I’m going to make fools out of them.’

‘Jesus, I don’t think …’

‘What? That I should leak it to the papers? Bloody right I will. I found his credit card bill, all the hotels, all of the meals. I found everything. And I’m going to tell whoever will listen.’

‘If you do that there’s no going back. Are you sure you want everyone knowing your business?’

‘I reckon all of Dublin probably already knows my business. That’s probably why I feel like such an eejit. I was the last to know.’

‘Listen, it’s his loss,’ I told her, as if auditioning for the role of her new best friend.

‘No. I’m the bloody sucker here. But I’m going to screw the both of them. They’ll wish they never ever met me.’

Five minutes later I was standing in the queue at Spar waiting to pay for my chicken and stuffing sandwich and Diet Coke when it dawned on me. If Annette goes to the papers about David’s cheating, I’ll probably get dragged into it again.

Maybe she was just venting and won’t do anything about it?

She’s stood by and let him cheat before, so why
would
she jeopardize her cosy lifestyle in her Ranelagh mansion now?

Concentrate on getting to the till, paying for this stuff and consuming it before you collapse again, I told myself.

As soon as I’d walked back to the office and stuffed my face with my plastic lunch, a weight lifted. With food in my belly the world seemed a better place. Annette would come to her senses and deal with this privately. Otherwise, she would be the fool she thought she was.

‘The Wife, the Mistress, the Publisher and the Hack. That’s some headline to be part of, Eva.’ Parker took great pleasure in sifting through the Sunday papers.

‘The stunning one-night-stand Eva Valentine has been pushed aside …’ he gasped. ‘It is said that she was no match for the worldly-wise temptress Maureen O’Brien. Ouch. That gotta hurt? But on the bright side, you’re famous again. You’ll be the envy of all the wannabe slappers about town.’

‘Brilliant. Just as my mother was starting to thaw out with me.’

‘Oops, I forgot about Poker-Up-Her-Ass Valentine. Ah, there’s no point in stressing about it.’

‘Yeah well, I hate being the fuck-up. Ruth is always the perfect one. I’m sick of this never-ending story.’

‘OK, word of advice for you. Either stop getting caught out, or stop being a bold Eva.’

‘Very profound words, Parker, so who told you that – the Dalai Lama?’

‘Eva, seeing that giant cold sore on your top lip has gone some way to cheering me up.’

‘Well I’m glad it’s brought someone else joy. I’m never leaving this apartment again.’

Maddie and I were curled up on Parker’s couch wearing our matching sloppy velour tracksuits watching
Murder, She Wrote
. We were equally fed up with life and the current day we were living through.

It was the nasty episode where Jessica visits Ireland, full of dodgy American actors with dodgy Oirish accents.

I should have been in work, but Lisa rang to say her dad had been on and thought it best I took a couple of days off to let things cool down.

‘Would it not have been cheaper to just hire a few local boyos for this? The accents are nearly as bad as Colin Farrell’s in
Alexander
.’

‘Ha! You’ll never get over the night he snubbed you at the Haven, will you?’

‘He didn’t snub me, Eva. He was sober and in a grump.’

‘Mmmm, he just preferred the company of his boys that night.’

‘Yeah, that Castleknock clan hang out of his arse whenever he’s home.’

‘You know, the person who did it always appears in the first scene, or something like that.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Sorry. The murderer is always supposed to appear in the start of the show.
Murder, She Wrote
.’

‘Oh, fascinating stuff.’

‘I thought so. So how’ve you been feeling?’

‘Eva, I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Ever?’

‘Not today anyway.’

‘You really need to clear your head, hon. Start talking things through. Like your plans.’

‘I don’t have any yet.’

‘Ah, Maddie, you’re going to have to make a decision soon. If you don’t want to keep this baby you have to take action sharpish. And before you jump down my throat, I’m not saying I think you should have an abortion. I’m just saying, if that is your choosing, please do it sooner rather than later.’

‘I know … I’m just very confused at the moment. I mean, havin’ a baby is huge. It’s almost too massive a deal to think about.’

At the mere mention of an abortion, you could see Maddie curling up into a tighter knot in a defensive reaction, but she was still putting on a plucky face. And while I didn’t want to cause her any more upset, she needed to be pushed into facing the harsh reality.

‘Yeah well, it’s a bit late for that,’ I stressed, ‘your back is up against the wall on this one.’

‘Ha! Kinda like the night the little fella was made.’

‘There she is. I thought you’d lost your sense of
humour
completely. And what do you mean little fella? You couldn’t possibly know yet.’

‘Little fella was just a figure of speech. Get over it.’

‘I’m allowed to be stroppy, have you not noticed the growth on my face?’

‘Mmmm, yes. As I said, Eva, that cold sore of yours has cheered me up immensely.’

The next morning I got a call from a more confident Maddie. Her voice sounded stronger than of late.

‘My mum says I’ll go to hell if I have an abortion. And she’s probably right,’ she said defiantly.

‘Maddie, your mum doesn’t have to live your life – you do.’

‘I know, so meet me at Le Café in about an hour. I want to tell you my decision in person.’

‘Why, what is your decision?’

‘See you in an hour.’ And with that she hung up.

Was she going to go through with an abortion? Was she going to get the boat to England like thousands of young Irish women before her? She sounded happy whatever her decision. I just hoped she’d made the right choice, whatever that might be.

By a quarter to twelve the two of us arrived at the front door of Le Café looking like twins. In coordinating Gap sweatshirts, black leggings and tan Ugg boots, we looked like the grungy students we never were, especially me with my ugly cold sore still invading my face.

I gave Maddie an air kiss and waited to gauge her mood. I didn’t have to wait long.

‘For the record, I’m fine. So you can relax. I’m genuinely grand. I’ll tell you all when we get in.’

With my plastered fake smile I held the door for her and said a prayer that I’d approve of her decision. Please, please, please don’t want an abortion, I thought. Neither of us were overly maternal creatures but I was sure that she’d regret such an action later in life.

But I was soon distracted from my obsessing by the cute manager’s smile, and turned my nervous energy into trying to hide my cold sore with my hair.

‘Ladies, it’s so lovely to see you both on such a grey day. You are like two beaming rays of sunshine,’ he teased.

Chuckling back, an extremely upbeat Maddie retorted, ‘Jaysus, you’d say anything. Any chance of a table for two?’

‘Why of course there is every chance,’ he smiled. ‘Follow me.’

So far, so good, I thought. Let’s hope this lunch continues on such a positive track.

Once we were seated the conversation remained light and breezy following some silly joke our host had made about ‘minding the gap’!

Over bread rolls and soup we had avoided the abortion issue superbly. But as Maddie strayed into inane chat about how she thought she was wearing the wrong foundation for her skin tone, I knew she was just avoiding the giant elephant in the room.

‘OK, enough with the Michael Flatley tap dance. What’s going on, missus? You’ve gotta tell me, because I feel like I’m going to burst.’

‘All right,’ she conceded, fixing herself on her seat. ‘Just give me a second.’ And with a deep breath she threw me a calming smile and started to speak once again.

‘I know my mother is going to hate me whichever decision I make, so I’ve given this a lot of thought and come up with the best solution for me.’

Practically on the edge of my seat, I could feel my eyebrows almost lift off my face with the anticipation. ‘And?’ I questioned nervously.

‘Well, when you think about it, having an abortion is not really my style. Basically I’ve been caught and I suppose I’ll have to live with the consequences.’

‘So is your mind made up?’

‘Yep. I’m gonna keep him or her.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, Eva, I’m sure I’m sure.’

‘Yeaee, we’re having a baby!’

Hearing my cheers the manager came promptly over to the table asking, ‘Everything OK?’

As I swept my hair across my face again I wanted to gloss over the details and tried to play down the situation, claiming, ‘Oh, we just got some good news, just a mini victory for mankind.’

‘That is a cause for celebration, very good. How would you like two glasses of my finest Pinot Grigio on the house?’ he asked.

Without a second of hesitation Maddie screamed, ‘Oh God, not for me.’

Automatically picking up on her snappy reaction, he gave me an inquisitive look before turning back to Maddie. ‘That’s not like you, are you sure you wouldn’t like a glass?’ he asked.

‘No honestly thanks, I’m off the booze.’

‘Really, why? Are you pregnant?’ He laughed.

In shock we darted each other a look, before Maddie stuttered, ‘No, eh, God no, just taking extra care of myself, that’s all. Me pregnant? Are you joking? As if!’

Looking extremely confused, he cleared the table and took our order for two teas.

‘Wow that was close,’ Maddie sighed, running her hands through her hair to relieve her stress.

‘Damn right,’ I sighed. ‘He nearly saw my fecking cold sore,’ I teased. ‘Anyway, where were we? Oh yes, we’re having a baby, yeaee!’

‘Emm, what’s this
we
shit? Are you offering to carry this foetus for the next four and a half months? Share the morning sickness? Which I’ve been told should be renamed morning, noon and night sickness …’