Putting Out the Stars (25 page)

‘Mmm, guys, you’ve got to taste this; it’s great.’ Donal pointed to the dish of beef with his fork. ‘The black bean sauce is terrific.’

Ruth spooned noodles onto her plate and passed the bowl to Cian beside her. Then she peered at another dish. ‘You had some of that, Andrew – what’s it like?’

‘Good – fruity.’ Andrew speared a cube of chicken from his plate and held it across to Ruth. ‘Taste.’

‘It’s OK, I’ll take my own.’ Ruth spooned some of the chicken onto her plate.

‘Here, I’ll try it.’ Beside Andrew, Breffni leaned over and ate the piece of chicken from his fork. ‘Mmm – wonderful. He’s right, Ruth.’

‘Who’s got the rice?’ Laura scanned the round table. ‘Here, Donal, pass it over.’ She took a small portion of rice and dolloped it on her plate. ‘Isn’t
this great – the gang out for Christmas?’ This evening she seemed keyed up; she spoke rapidly and her cheeks were slightly flushed, although she’d ordered orange juice instead of
the wine that everyone else except Cian was having.

Andrew had looked at her in disbelief when she’d put her hand over her glass as he was pouring. ‘You’re not having a jar?’

She’d shaken her head. ‘Don’t feel like it. Cian and I will stay sober and sensible, and make sure the rest of you drunken louts get home in one piece.’

Now she lifted her glass of juice. ‘What’ll we drink to – besides Happy Christmas?’

Cian lifted his. ‘Happy new house to Andrew and Ruth.’

Andrew shook his head; he was already well into his second glass of wine. ‘Ah, not just us – what about a toast to the six of us?’ He waved his glass to take everyone in.
‘To a great new year together.’

‘That sounds good – a happy new year to all of us.’ Laura beamed around the table and clinked her glass against Andrew’s. In the echoing clinks that followed, Laura met
Donal’s eye across the table. She held his gaze, smiling brilliantly at him.

‘So, Ruth – how’s the house coming along?’ Cian pushed the serving spoon into the mango chicken and lifted a generous portion onto his plate.

‘Great; we’re slowly putting a shape on it; and we’ve a gardener working out the back, would you believe? It’s going to be lovely. You’ll see it soon, I hope
– I’m planning to have you all over for dinner in January.’

‘Lovely.’ He helped himself to rice. ‘Breffni tells me it’s great; I think she’s seriously considering leaving me and moving into the city – she’s mad
jealous of you all.’

‘And don’t think he’s joking.’ Breffni’s voice floated across. She looked around the table. ‘I’m sick of being out in the sticks – all the
excitement is in Limerick.’

Ruth laughed. ‘Oh, I’m sure Nenagh’s just as exciting.’

Breffni picked up her glass and smiled at Ruth. ‘About as exciting as watching paint dry, actually.’

Cian lifted his hands in mock despair. ‘I just can’t compete, can I?’

From his other side, Laura spoke. ‘Don’t mind her, Cian – she’s all talk.’ She didn’t look to be eating much, Ruth thought; her plate seemed pretty full
still. But she was in such good form tonight, which was great.

When the plates were all cleared away, Andrew picked up the empty wine bottle in front of him. ‘One for the road?’

‘Yes please.’ Breffni drained her glass. ‘None for Cian – he’s driving me back to the sticks, God help me.’

‘You can join me in a coffee, Cian; they’ll all be sorry in the morning.’ Laura stood and looked around her. ‘Where’s the loo here . . . ? Oh, I see it. Back in a
sec.’

‘Donal?’ Andrew indicated the empty bottle.

Donal shook his head. ‘Think I’ll go for coffee too.’

‘Don’t forget Ruth.’ Breffni inclined her head in Ruth’s direction as Andrew held up the empty bottle and signalled to a waiter. ‘She’ll have some too,
won’t you, Ruth?’

‘Yes please.’ Ruth looked at Andrew as she spoke. ‘Just as well someone remembered me.’

‘And just as well we have a lie-in tomorrow –’ Andrew glanced over at Ruth ‘– unless you have any more jobs lined up for me?’

Ruth smiled briefly and shook her head, feeling a faint stab of annoyance. When had she ever
lined up
jobs for him? He was making her sound like a harridan. The only thing she’d
asked him to do – the one job since they moved house – was to get some oil for the side gate, and he hadn’t done it; she’d got it herself in the end.

The wine arrived and the waiter made his way around the table, pouring.

‘Cheers.’ As Breffni clinked glasses with Andrew and Ruth, Donal glanced up to see Laura making her way back towards the table, and immediately his heart sank. She came straight over
to him.

‘Sorry . . . I don’t feel well. I think I want to go home now.’ Her voice was low and empty. The slight flush was still in her cheeks, but the earlier sparkle had completely
drained out of her. ‘Can you call a cab? I don’t feel like driving home.’

He stood and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Of course; sit down a minute.’ He steered her gently into the chair he’d just left and pulled out his mobile. As he spoke, Laura
sat hunched in the chair, eyes fixed on the tablecloth in front of her. From the chair beside her, Breffni put an arm over Laura’s.

‘Is it your stomach? Did you throw up?’

Laura shook her head, still looking at the tablecloth. ‘Just a headache; I need to lie down, get out of the light.’

In the cab, she leant against Donal, crying softly into his chest. ‘Why? Why can’t I? What’s wrong with me?’ Her voice was thick with tears.

He held her and whispered, ‘I’m sorry darling . . . I’m so sorry.’

He wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, but of course he couldn’t.

‘God, I’m stuffed.’ Breffni stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned over to turn up the heat.

When Cian didn’t respond, she looked over at him. ‘Are you all right?’ Her words were slightly slurred.

He turned his head and smiled briefly before looking back at the road ahead. ‘Fine.’

After a short silence, he said, ‘Bref, would you really like to move into Limerick?’

She laughed. ‘Are you getting worried that I’ll leave you?’ When he didn’t respond again, she sat up straighter and studied his profile. ‘God, you are. Don’t
be daft; if I was thinking about it, d’you really think I’d be blabbing to everyone?’

He glanced at her again. ‘OK.’

‘You take everything so seriously . . . lighten up, for God’s sake.’

‘Right.’ He kept his eyes on the road ahead for several minutes after that, and the next time he looked over, when they had to stop at a traffic light, she was asleep. He watched her
beautiful face and felt afraid.

‘Stop.’ Ruth pushed his hand away, conscious of the taxi driver’s eyes in the mirror. ‘Darling, please stop.’

Andrew’s breath was hot on her face, and smelt spicy. His voice was low, but Ruth knew it wasn’t low enough. ‘When a woman says stop, she never means it.’ He slid his
hand up under her shirt again. ‘She means don’t stop; she means go on.’ He tried to wriggle his fingers under the lacy camisole she wore. ‘You know you want it, you know
it’s driving you mad.’ His breathing was harsh; his other hand was pulling up her skirt, kneading her thigh painfully, forcing her legs apart. ‘My strait-laced little wife –
why don’t you just go mad for once?’ Ruth heard a tearing sound – the stockings she’d paid sixteen Euro for that day.

‘No love, please . . . ‘

The more she struggled, the more it seemed to excite him. His movements became more urgent, his breathing more laboured. He reached further up her leg, grabbing at her underwear. ‘Come on,
come on . . .’ And all the time Ruth was acutely aware of the driver taking it all in, meeting her eyes quite openly any time she looked at the mirror.

She felt a sudden flash of anger. They weren’t teenagers, for God’s sake, fumbling in the back of a car because they had nowhere else to go. They were married, and could restrain
themselves until they were in their own bed.

‘I said
no
.’ She shoved him away with all her strength, and crossed her legs tightly. ‘Stop it, Andrew – I don’t want this.’ She turned her head and
looked out the window, and ignored him for the rest of the journey.

And tried not to feel too nervous about what she’d done.

The meal had been torture from start to finish. The fact that he could smell her scent, could laugh and joke with her, could say her name and meet her eye – none of that
mattered, or it made it worse. She was so close, and he couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t put his mouth to that perfect skin, run his hand lightly over her smooth stomach. He imagined what
the reaction would be if he leaned across and kissed her, and he wished he had the courage to do it.

His only saving grace, the one thing that kept him from putting his head into his hands and howling with frustration, was the thought that, five days from now, she would be in his arms again. He
clung to that.

‘Happy Christmas, Mother – from both of us.’ Laura touched her mother’s cheek with hers for the briefest of seconds. Cecily’s skin was cool; she
smelled of the Yves St Laurent perfume that always reminded Laura of Arabian nights – heady, exotic, passionate. It astonished her that such a cold-blooded creature as Cecily should favour
that scent.

‘Thank you, dear – and Donal too, of course.’ Cecily took the small silver-wrapped package and opened it unhurriedly, as Laura took a large swallow of her brandy and ginger
ale, and waited. Donal caught her eye and winked; Laura gave him a small, brittle smile before turning back to her mother.

‘It’s beautiful – thank you both again.’ Cecily looked down at the delicate gold and silver pendant that had cost half as much as Donal earned in a week. ‘I shall
treasure it.’

And you shall never wear it – at least, not when you meet us.
Laura lifted her glass again and watched as Andrew and Ruth presented Cecily with a soft-looking scarf in a beautiful
mauve colour. Cecily immediately wrapped it over her shoulders – ‘one of my favourite shades too: how clever of you both’ – before standing to refresh all their glasses.
Laura glanced at her watch – another half an hour at least before they could make their excuses. And she couldn’t even have another drink; as usual, she was driving. She watched Donal
accepting a second brandy with a feeling that she took a moment to recognise as resentment.
He
never had to worry about how many jars he had. So handy, not driving.