Putting Out the Stars (11 page)

Brash – exactly the word Cecily would have used herself. She felt a tinge of embarrassment – if he really had been nervous, his rather silly remarks would of course be forgivable
– but how could she possibly have known? No, she wasn’t going to be embarrassed; she’d done nothing wrong. She glanced around again; where was that dratted waitress?

He put his chin in his hand, and she automatically registered his elbow on the table. ‘Dorothy had to practically drag me along to the book club. She and Liam have been great since I moved
here, but I found the thought of meeting a whole new group of people very intimidating. I’d been married so long, you see, with Angela always there beside me.’

Cecily nodded automatically, thinking of herself and Brian as a couple; it had been a kind of comfort to know that someone was always around to do things with, go places with. After he died, the
absence of that comfort had struck her quite forcibly. But of course she’d still had Andrew, who’d been wonderful. Frank had had no one – his daughter dead, his son disappeared.
Undoubtedly it must have been difficult.

Frank took another deep breath and continued. ‘But then I thought, this is why I moved. I knew I’d have to make an effort, if I was to have any kind of life again. So I let Dorothy
drag me out.’ He smiled again, this time a little wider than before. ‘And I must say I really enjoyed myself; but I do apologise if you found me a bit – overpowering.’

She shook her head slightly – what else could she do? He lifted a hand to deny her unspoken comment. ‘No, I’m sure I was. Rabbitting on about whatever popped into my head, most
of it rubbish.’ His smile suddenly became more of a twinkle. ‘But you know, Cecily, I’m really not so bad once you get to know me.’

Suddenly he stretched his hand across the table and said ‘How do you do? Frank O’Connor.’

Oh, for goodness’ sake.
She looked down at his hand and smiled, despite herself. And then the waitress came back with their order, and started to unload her tray, and Frank
thanked her courteously before asking Cecily what she thought of the McGahern.

And, oddly, it was a little easier after that.

The doorbell rang just as Laura was about to open the oven door. She turned her head in the direction of the hall. ‘Donal? Can you get that?’

‘Yeah.’ His voice floated down the stairs.

She opened the door and a wave of savoury heat hit her. Mmm – smelt good, and she was starving; she’d added a couple of rashers and a grilled tomato to her breakfast toast, and
skipped lunch. She gave the tray of garlicky potato chunks a shake before scattering on the fresh rosemary, and stuck a skewer into the rack of lamb – another ten minutes. Donal’s
footsteps sounded on the stairs and a few minutes later, Andrew’s voice floated in from the hall. Damn – she’d been hoping Breffni and Cian would arrive first, so they’d be
there to talk to Ruth and Andrew while she finished up in here. Now she’d have to go in and rescue Ruth from the two men. She’d leave the tartlets till the others got here, and the
salad would just have to wait till then too.

She closed the oven door gently, pulled off her apron and raked her fingers through her curls in front of the mirror before going into the sitting room.

‘Ah – here she is.’ Andrew, just inside the door, put a hand on her shoulder and smacked a kiss on her cheek. ‘Hi, sis. Mother says hello.’

Laura laughed. ‘Liar. Now go and get a drink from my husband.’ She turned to Ruth, perched on the couch next to the fire. ‘Ruth, welcome. You look lovely.’

And she did – long straight cream skirt that looked like linen, and a lavender lacy top. She’d clipped back her light blond hair on one side with a cream slide, and her lips were
pale pink. There were improvements she could have made – a little mascara, some pencil maybe to bring out her eyes, a darker lipstick, a foundation with a bit more coverage to even out her
skin tone and mask her freckles – but Ruth certainly looked very presentable this evening. She blushed slightly at Laura’s compliment.

‘Thanks – my one and only good skirt.’ She looked admiringly at Laura. ‘That dress is fabulous.’

‘It’s my going-away outfit, would you believe? Seven years old now; I just can’t bring myself to get rid of it.’

Laura loved it; straight dark wine silk – who’d have imagined wine would suit her hair colour? – sleeveless, with a deep neckline front and back and a narrow waist, falling
softly to her knee. Simple and sophisticated. Worth every penny of the startlingly high price that Donal had insisted on paying. She’d tried, halfheartedly, to stop him.

‘You’ll be broke; we won’t be able to afford the wedding.’ And still she couldn’t bring herself to go back into the dressing room and take it off, kept glancing
sideways towards the long mirror.

‘Look at it this way. If you don’t let me buy it, the wedding’s off.’

She’d beamed at him, delighted. ‘Well, if you put it that way . . . but remember, you forced me.’

She’d lost count of the number of times she’d worn it, with the plain white gold chain that Donal had given her for their first anniversary, and the matching earrings she’d
treated herself to with her first proper pay cheque.

‘Laur?’ From across the room Donal held up a can of beer. Andrew brought a glass of red wine to Ruth and sat beside her on the couch.

‘Hmm – maybe I’ll have wine instead.’ Laura walked to the drinks table and looked at the bottle. Chateauneufdupape – yummy. Good choice, guys.’

Ruth smiled shyly. ‘I asked Andrew what you liked.’

‘And I said anything in a bottle.’ Andrew grinned, stretching out his long legs, and Ruth gave him an indulgent smile.

‘Look at the pioneer who’s talking.’ Donal filled a glass with wine and handed it to Laura, pretending not to see her warning look.

Andrew looked plaintively at Laura. ‘Sis, he’s at me again.’

Laura had to smile. ‘Now stop it, you two. Ruth, they’re always like this; take no notice.’ Just then, the doorbell rang again. Laura put her glass on the coffee table.
‘Donal, will you pass around the olives? And Andrew, go and talk to Donal. We’re going to have a girlie chat on the couch.’

Breffni looked great, as always. Laura had given up trying to compete when she realised that even in her school uniform, without a hint of make-up, Breffni had men doing double takes. Tonight
her black hair, always impossibly shiny, fell loose over her shoulders. The trousers that Laura hadn’t seen before were the same blue as her eyes, and toned in beautifully with her sleeveless
silver-grey top. Tiny diamond studs flashed in her ears.

Laura hugged her. ‘You could at least have made an effort; combed your hair or something.’

Breffni hugged her back, smelling deliciously exotic. ‘Well, I didn’t want to show you up; I knew you’d be in the same old rag you always wear.’

Cian, in his usual sports jacket and chinos, raised his eyes to heaven. ‘Stop it, you two – behave yourselves.’ He gave Laura a hug. ‘Hi there. You look great.’ He
sniffed. ‘And something smells wonderful.’

‘That’ll be either my perfume or the dinner I’ve spent the day slaving over. Come in and meet the new bride.’

‘See, I told you they were here.’ Breffni poked Cian in the ribs. ‘It’s his fault; we’d have got here half an hour ago if he hadn’t been hogging the
bathroom.’

Laura grinned and shoved her friend ahead of her. ‘Yes, Breffni, I believe you. Get in there.’

Ruth stood quickly as they came in, a polite smile on her face. As Laura made the introductions, Ruth put out her hand. ‘Hi, it’s nice to meet you both.’ She sounded
nervous.

Breffni’s lightning glance swept over her. ‘Nice to meet you too, Ruth; I’ve been –’

‘Hey, long time no see.’ Andrew seemed to appear out of the blue.

Breffni swung around to him. ‘Hey yourself.’ She hugged him lightly. ‘Not since Rome, would you believe? And this is my Cian.’

Cian put his hand out to Andrew, wrapping his other arm around Breffni’s waist. ‘Hello, and congratulations.’

Andrew shook his hand. ‘Thanks, mate. And I hear you two have a little girl.’ He was looking at Breffni again.

She nodded. ‘Polly. Nearly two, and cute as a button; takes after her mother, except for the head of blond curls.’ She turned to Cian. ‘Get me a glass of red wine, would you,
love?’

Laura slipped away – time to get organised. In the kitchen she took the lamb from the oven, then got Donal’s bowl of spinach and Gruyère mixture from the fridge and spooned it
into the little filo cases that were waiting on a baking tray. She sprinkled on the pine nuts he’d toasted earlier and slid the tray into the hot oven. She was straightening up when a voice
behind her said, ‘You could have warned me.’

She jumped and turned around. Breffni pushed the kitchen door closed behind her. She held up one of the glasses of wine she was carrying. ‘I presume this is yours.’

‘You’ve left poor Ruth with three men? Warned you about what?’

‘About the fact that your brother is as gorgeous as ever – and that tan doesn’t do him any harm either.’

Laura looked closely at her. ‘Are you OK meeting him again Bref, really? I mean, you seemed fine in Rome, and I won’t go on about it, but –’

Breffni laughed. ‘Yeah, relax, course I am. I’m just saying he’s still gorgeous.’ She handed Laura the glass and sniffed the air. ‘Oh my God, something smells
fabulous. I’m so hungry I could eat the hind leg of a diseased pony.’

Laura smiled – when they were growing up, they went through a phase of trying to out-disgust the other by thinking up the worst possible ending to ‘I’m so hungry I could eat .
. .’ The outright winner was Breffni’s ‘. . . the coarsely grated toenails of a gangrenous elephant’.

Laura opened the fridge and pulled out a bag of mixed greens. ‘Here – as long as you’ve deserted poor Ruth, you can find a bowl and chuck that in. There’s a jar of
Donal’s dressing in the fridge, and some cherry tomatoes – but don’t add the dressing yet.’

‘OK.’ Breffni fished under the worktop and came up with a big green bowl. She pulled the bag open and tipped the leaves in. Then she took a sip from her glass. ‘This wine is
superb.’

Laura took a serving plate from the dresser. ‘Isn’t it? Ruth and Andrew brought it. Ruth must have picked it out – Andrew’s not a bit fussy.’

‘Obviously.’ Breffni opened the fridge door.

Laura looked at her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Breffni turned from the fridge with a little container of cherry tomatoes in one hand and a jar of dressing in the other. When she didn’t answer, Laura put her serving dish down.
‘Bref, are you having a go at Ruth?’

Breffni took a knife from the block and smiled over. ‘Hey, just a joke, keep your hair on.’ She began halving the tomatoes, throwing the halves into the bowl. ‘But you must
admit, she’s not exactly in Andrew’s league, looks-wise.’ When Laura didn’t respond, Breffni said, ‘Come on, Laur, I’m only stating a fact. She could be vaguely
pretty, I suppose, if she made a bit of an effort.’ She picked a watercress leaf from the bowl and munched it. ‘Bet she can’t believe her luck in hooking Andrew.’

Laura looked sternly at her as she ran hot water over the dish. ‘Stop, Bref – Ruth is lovely. She’s probably much too good for Andrew, actually. Stop being bitchy.’

Breffni grinned, still munching, not at all put out. ‘OK, OK, sorry. I’m sure she’s grand. I’m sure herself and Andrew will live happily ever after, and have lots of
little children to keep Dragon Granny happy.’

Laura had to smile – the thought of Cecily dandling a child on her knee was just too ridiculous. She dried the serving dish and went to check on the starters. ‘Anyway, I’ve
never seen why you thought Andrew was so good-looking.’

‘Of course you haven’t – you’re his sister. You’re not supposed to think he’s good-looking.’ She took another sip of wine and watched as Laura lifted
out the tray of tartlets. ‘Mmm – have they spinach in them?’

‘Yeah – Donal made them; I just put them together.’ Laura lifted the tartlets onto the warm dish with a spatula. ‘Andrew told me that Ruth loved the spinach pies they got
in Greece, so hopefully these are something similar.’ She picked up a bundle of small plates with her free hand. ‘Grab some serviettes and follow me in – and bring my
drink.’

In the sitting room, Ruth sat alone on the couch, looking into the fire. The three men were standing in the far corner, chatting. Laura felt a stab of annoyance towards her brother. He
could
have kept her company till we got back.
And Donal should have known better too. She signalled for Donal to bring the wine over, then sat beside Ruth and put down her dish of
starters. ‘Try these; they’re a speciality of Donal’s.’ She handed Ruth a small plate and lifted a tartlet onto it.

‘You wanted wine, Madam?’ Donal was at her side. She nodded, doling tartlets out onto plates. ‘You can leave the bottle, and bring these over.’ When he’d gone with
his three plates, Laura looked back at Ruth and smiled. ‘That’ll keep them quiet for a while.’ She thought Ruth still looked quite ill at ease – a little wine would relax
her. She picked up the bottle and added some to Ruth’s glass.