Putting Out the Stars (16 page)

He shook his head, smiling faintly. ‘Nothing to tell; we’re just letting nature take its course.’ Then he opened the nearest press and peered inside. ‘Now, where do you
keep the coffee – or the packet of “Easy Coffee Mix”?’

She groaned. ‘Enough already – I’m never again going to give away my culinary tricks.’ She pointed. ‘Coffee in the next press, in the pack that says
real
coffee, honest
.’

‘And may I say that you look real good tonight.’ He reached for the knob of the next press. ‘Honest.’

She bowed her head in acknowledgement. ‘You may. And now you may make the coffee.’ She opened a Flake bar and began crumbling a little into each bowl. ‘There – six
gourmet desserts coming up.’

Donal smiled.

‘I’d keep an eye on that husband of yours.’

Laura turned to Andrew, a small smile on her face. ‘What?’

He inclined his head towards Donal. ‘Look how he’s leering all over your best friend.’

Laura laughed, dug him in the ribs. ‘Shut up, trying to stir things. Behave yourself.’

He lifted a shoulder, turned to Cian across the table. ‘I’m just warning Laura to watch out for Donal, making eyes at Breffni over there. What d’you think – should we get
worried?’

Cian turned to look at Breffni, approaching the table with two bowls. ‘Only about our waistlines, I’d say.’ He smiled up at her as she passed him.

‘And some of us need to worry a bit more than others about that.’ Although Andrew murmured too softly for anyone but Laura to hear, she shot him a sharp look. Really, he could be a
bit nasty sometimes; imagine if Cian had heard.

‘Ruth, try that and tell me what you think.’ Breffni put one of the bowls in front of Ruth and stood beside her, waiting.

Ruth looked quickly around the table before obediently picking up a spoon and scooping up a small amount of chocolate ice-cream. As she ate, she looked up at Breffni and smiled, nodding.
Conversation had stopped; all eyes were on her. Breffni stayed standing by Ruth’s chair.

‘Well? Does it pass?’

‘Stop fishing for compliments, you: it’s not as if you spent all day with the ice-cream machine.’ Laura reached out and grabbed the second bowl from Breffni. ‘Here,
I’ll tell you.’ She plunged her spoon into the dessert and took a big mouthful, then closed her eyes in ecstasy. ‘Mmm, chocalicious.’

Then Donal came back to the table with two more bowls. ‘Who got no Instant Whip?’

‘Here.’ Cian took both bowls from him and gave one each to himself and Andrew before sniffing into his. ‘I see you’ve been at the Bailey’s again, dear.’

Breffni looked sternly across the table at him.

‘I’ll have you know that’s an old family recipe – now you’ve just told everyone my secret ingredient.’

Across the chatter, Laura watched Ruth put her spoon down carefully beside her half-empty bowl without making a sound.

He couldn’t bear it; he’d go mad.

He’d waited with dread for this night, half hoping that when they met, he’d feel nothing. Of course that hadn’t happened; his hammering heart had threatened to burst from his
chest all evening. He couldn’t understand how nobody had noticed.

She was so close he could touch her – and she might as well be on another planet. He could smell her when she came near, when she bent over to talk to him. Her lips were perfect; he wanted
to lean across and taste them, to run his tongue over their softness. He longed to take her and hold her against him, have every part of her pressed into him.

This couldn’t go on. This had to go on. He’d go mad if it stopped.

Donal hung his jacket on the banisters and stood in the hall.

‘Laura?’ No answer, as he’d expected. He went into the kitchen and washed his hands. Then he pulled open the fridge and took out a greaseproof-wrapped bundle of sliced turkey
breast. From the bread bin he pulled half a loaf of crusty, granary bread.

A few minutes later, when he was halfway through his sandwich, he heard the front door opening. ‘I’m in here.’

Her head appeared around the kitchen door. ‘Hi. Are you here long?’

He shook his head. ‘Quarter of an hour. What are
you
doing home?’ It was just after three.

She shrugged, still standing in the doorway. ‘I decided I’d have an easy Monday; there’s nothing too urgent on at the moment, and I still feel a bit tired from Saturday
night.’ They hadn’t left Breffni and Cian’s till after three.

‘Have we any of that redcurrant jelly from the market?’

‘No, I think we’re out. There’s mayo.’

‘Want me to make you one?’ He pointed towards the remains of his sandwich.

‘No thanks; I’ll wait till dinner. Hang on a sec.’ He heard her run upstairs and into their bedroom. A minute later she was back, walking into the kitchen with some leaflets in
her hand. She sat at the counter opposite him. ‘Darling, I called around to Dr Goode last week.’

He put his sandwich down and waited. She put the leaflets on the counter between them and he read
Overcoming Infertility: A Compassionate Resource for Getting Pregnant
on the front of
the top one.

‘He’s given us these to read, and I’ve made an appointment for us to go and talk to him on Thursday – half four was the latest I could get. You could make that,
couldn’t you?’

Her voice sounded anxious. He put a hand out and covered hers on the table, being careful not to touch the leaflets. ‘Yeah, no problem.’ He picked up his glass of milk.

She kept her eyes on the counter. ‘And Donal . . . it might be best if we don’t have sex in the meantime, in case . . .’

In case I’m given a jar and a dirty magazine and put into a little room to perform.
His stomach clenched at the thought. He put down his glass.

‘It’s OK.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll try my best to resist you till Thursday.’ His smile was wooden.

Her face relaxed. ‘Thanks.’ She stroked his arm with her other hand. ‘I was thinking we might go out to a movie later on, if there’s anything worth seeing?’

‘Fine; the paper’s in the other room.’ He looked down at the half-eaten sandwich on his plate, wondering where his appetite had gone.

Ruth lifted the Aynsley teapot – Cecily’s second best – and poured a refill for Margaret and Frank. Then she looked across at Valerie, two chairs away.
‘More tea over there?’

‘Thanks, Ruth, I’ll come and get it in a minute.’ Valerie looked around Cecily’s sitting room. ‘Isn’t this lovely and cosy?’

Ruth nodded, although
cosy
wasn’t the word she would have used to describe any room in Cecily’s house. The sitting room was certainly tasteful, with its pale, thick carpets,
and cream and off-white walls. Immaculate bookshelves filled with alphabetically arranged books, and glass-fronted cabinets displaying Lladro and Waterford Crystal and Newbridge silver. Two
matching couches covered in pale grey linen, elegant armchairs that weren’t designed for curling up in. A coal-effect gas fire in the fireplace – Ruth couldn’t imagine her
mother-in-law clearing ashes from the grate.

She glanced across at Cecily, who was smiling at something Emily had just said to her. Looking as poised as ever in her soft cream cardigan and straight black skirt, and carefully arranged
hair.

The room buzzed with separate conversations; since the general discussion, the seven of them had divided into smaller groups. Cecily and Emily sat side by side on the couch by the window,
furthest from the fire. Dorothy and Valerie were chatting on Ruth’s other side, leaving herself, Frank and Margaret in the middle.

She lifted the plate of Cecily’s meticulously arranged canapés and held them out to Margaret. ‘Can I tempt you?’

Margaret shook her head. ‘No thank you, dear; I’ve had two already.’

Ruth turned. ‘How about you, Frank?’

‘Yes please; my appetite isn’t as delicate as Margaret’s, I’m afraid.’ He put a cheese ball and a smoked salmon roll on his plate, and twinkled over at Margaret.
‘I hope you’re not dieting, dear; you’ll fade away on us.’

Ruth was amused to see Margaret’s colour rising slightly; she wondered if she’d still blush when she was Margaret’s age – hopefully not. She tapped Frank’s arm,
smiling. ‘Leave her alone.’

He was lovely, really natural and easygoing. He reminded her vaguely of someone, but she couldn’t think who it might be. And Margaret was a pet – so gentle and sweet. Ruth sat back
and took a sip of tea, totally at ease. She’d enjoyed this evening, sitting with people who had all made her feel welcome. She’d already read the novel they were discussing, so she felt
comfortable joining in – hadn’t felt at all as if anyone would laugh at her or make her feel uneasy.

Not like last Saturday night. Her stomach still fluttered when she remembered Breffni putting the plate of ice-cream in front of her and demanding to know what she thought of it. Everyone
stopping and looking at her – awful. Thank goodness it was ice-cream – anything hot and she probably would have scalded herself, from sheer nerves. And thank goodness for Laura, jumping
in to rescue her.

Rescue her
: how silly – as if she’d been under attack. Ruth knew that Breffni hadn’t meant anything by it.
She
wouldn’t have been a bit mortified to
have everyone watching her eating, so why should she have thought it would affect anyone else that way? But when Ruth had picked up her spoon, knowing that everyone at the table was watching,
feeling their eyes on her – God, it was stupid to have felt so panicky, so afraid she was going to make a fool of herself. It was a spoonful of ice-cream, for goodness’ sake. What a
ninny she was.

Andrew hadn’t seemed to notice anything, thank goodness. A part of her was still waiting for him to turn around and realise how much better he could have done for himself than Ruth Tobin.
But so far, so good. He’d been a bit quiet in the car on the way back, but that was just tiredness – it had been so late. And Laura hadn’t said much either, on the way home. They
were all ready for bed: particularly Ruth, worn out from the strain of trying to look as if she was enjoying herself.

But there was no strain tonight. She’d warmed quickly to Frank and Margaret, and Valerie seemed very pleasant too; she’d already suggested that Ruth meet her for coffee some
afternoon soon. For the first time since her arrival in Limerick, Ruth didn’t feel quite so homesick for Dublin and her family. If she and Valerie got friendly, maybe she wouldn’t have
to meet Breffni that much.