Putting Out the Stars (37 page)

The business with Andrew had been inevitable, of course; Cecily had seen it coming a mile off. He was so handsome, so charming – she knew it was just a matter of time before that hussy
tried to get her claws into him. The way she’d sidle up to him, put a hand on his arm, brush her hair off her face, or twirl it around her finger as she spoke to him – in a way, it was
almost a relief when he finally brought her home to dinner, their so-called ‘relationship’ made official.

Cecily didn’t hold it against Andrew in the least – what was he do to in the face of such blatant temptation? Mind you, it had taken a lot of persuasion on Cecily’s part
– far more than she’d needed in the past – to convince him that that girl was all wrong for him. Andrew had resisted his mother’s arguments for once, insisting that Cecily
didn’t really know Breffni, that once she got to know her, she’d see . . . Cecily had almost laughed in his face at the thought of their ever being friends. But she hadn’t
laughed; she was too frightened at the notion of losing him, of having him turned against his mother by that sly missy.

So she’d kept up her arguments, being careful not to let her aversion to that creature show – she must seem to be quite impartial, at all costs – and in the end, thank heavens,
he’d seen reason and finished with her. When Breffni had gone back to the States, Cecily had felt relieved; now Andrew would get over her – he’d really been quite smitten, silly
boy. And then, before he’d met someone suitable, she’d returned, unmarried and pregnant – another scenario Cecily had seen coming a mile off. But the father seemed to be standing
by her – probably thrilled with himself, poor fool – and they settled far enough away for it not to be a worry. And then Ruth had come along, and she’d been perfect for Andrew,
and Cecily had made sure that she stayed.

And now, when everything should have been safe, that woman had somehow managed to bewitch Andrew all over again; turn his head with her whorish ways. Probably bored with her own wimp of a
partner. Cecily had met Cian once at Laura and Donal’s house – he hadn’t had a lot to say for himself. Nothing much to look at either. And she seemed to remember a bit of a weight
problem; obviously didn’t bother looking after himself. So the little tramp had decided to spice things up a bit, go after Andrew again – never mind that he was married now, or that she
was a mother. No, none of that would have bothered her. She’d batted her eyelashes at Andrew, used her vulgar prettiness to flirt like mad with him probably, when poor Ruth wasn’t
looking. What man, let alone a healthy young man like Andrew, could be expected to resist temptation like that? Everyone knew that men were weak, for goodness’ sake. It was up to the woman to
be strong, to show moral courage if she was attracted to a married man. Of course, that was assuming that the woman in question had any morals to begin with.

And now, what was Cecily to do? Because she had to do something; that was clear. It was up to her, as Andrew’s mother, to save him, and to save his marriage. She owed it to poor Ruth, if
nothing else.

She wished she had someone to turn to for help – but of course that was out of the question. This wasn’t something Cecily intended discussing – with anyone. God alone knew what
people would make of it; she’d be the talk of Limerick if it ever became public knowledge. She could imagine Emily relishing the drama of it all, gossiping about it with her silly friends,
delighting in Andrew’s fall from grace: ‘– and my dear, if you heard Cecily talk about him, you’d think he was a god.’ No, that was not going to happen. Cecily was not
going to let that happen.

Somewhere during the long sleepless night that followed her awful discovery, Cecily had come face to face with the distasteful possibility that Andrew had really fallen for this woman –
that he might even imagine himself in love with her. So if Cecily managed somehow to bring an end to it, he would be devastated. And if he ever discovered that she’d had a part to play in it,
he would undoubtedly hold it against her. But how strong would his resentment be? Might it cause him to turn away from his mother completely? Cecily wasn’t blind to the irony; all the years
of making sure that he didn’t end up with the wrong person – all her efforts to ensure that no woman took him away from her – and now, if she succeeded in getting rid of Breffni,
she might lose him anyway. The thought terrified her; she knew it would kill her if Andrew turned against her. He was all she had. Laura had never been a daughter to her; it had always been only
Andrew.

Standing at the window, Cecily squared her shoulders. She had no intention of losing him. She was damned if that witch was going to win this time. So, at all costs, Andrew must never know.
Somehow, Cecily had to find a way to bring this catastrophe to an end without Andrew’s knowledge of her role in it. She stared unseeing out the window, mind racing.

Andrew held the bottle over Ruth’s glass. ‘Drink up; I don’t know why you asked me to get it.’

Ruth smiled as he topped up her barely-touched drink. ‘Sorry, darling – but you’re enjoying it, aren’t you?’

He topped up his own glass and put down the bottle. ‘It’s great, yeah – and the dinner was lovely too. You went to a lot of trouble.’

So he
had
noticed; she’d wondered, when he didn’t comment all through the fillet steaks, and carrots with ginger and orange butter, and roasted potato chunks with garlic and
rosemary. She had gone to a lot of trouble; she wanted the whole evening to be just perfect. Because she was going to tell him this evening.

Mam and Dad had been thrilled, as she’d known they would be. Made a big fuss of her, phoned the others to tell them; they’d barely made the play, with all the excitement. In the dark
of the theatre, Ruth had hugged her happiness to herself, hardly noticing what was happening on stage. And in the train on the way back this morning, she found herself smiling at strangers sitting
nearby, not minding a bit if they thought her odd.

And when she finally managed to drag her thoughts away, somewhere between Portlaoise and Roscrea, she remembered the other thing that had preoccupied her on the way up to Dublin. The amazing
discovery she’d made, just out of the blue. The thought that had popped from nowhere into her head, slotting neatly into the space that she hadn’t known was waiting for it, and making
her look up suddenly from her magazine with a surprised ‘oh’.

Now, getting used to the new information, the only surprise she felt was that it hadn’t hit her sooner. The evidence she needed had been under her nose all the time; how had it taken her
so long to connect the dots? And was she absolutely sure that she’d got it right? Had she put two and two together and come up with six?

No, she was right – she was certain. It all made sense, and she couldn’t deny the proof that was staring her in the face. All she had to do now was figure out the next step to take.
Then another thought struck her – it wasn’t meddling, was it? It was really none of her business . . . what if they didn’t want her help? What if they threw it back in her face,
told her that she’d no right? But if she did nothing, she’d never know . . . and she thought of the wonderful surprise it would surely be, the joy that she was going to be able to bring
– it must bring joy, mustn’t it? – and her heart lifted. She must be careful though, and do it right. She must figure out a plan of action.

But not tonight. Tonight was for her and Andrew; and she decided she couldn’t wait any longer – let the Viennetta stay in the freezer for another night. She reached out to the hand
that was resting on the table and covered it with hers and squeezed. ‘Darling, I have something to tell you.’

Andrew took a sip – more a gulp, really – of his wine. ‘What is it?’

She gave him a radiant smile and said, ‘I’m pregnant.’

‘Hello?’

‘Bref, it’s me.’

‘Hi – what’s up?’

‘Nothing – just felt like calling.’ Laura giggled. ‘Actually I’m real restless today – can’t settle.’ More giggling. ‘I must be in
love.’

Breffni closed her eyes. ‘That must be it.’

‘I know it sounds ridiculous, but I feel like Donal and I are falling in love all over again, you know?’ Quick, breathless words.

Breffni nodded, smiled, eyes still closed. ‘That sounds great.’

‘It is.’ Another giggle. ‘We can’t keep our hands off each other. Oh, by the way, it hasn’t come yet.’

‘What hasn’t come?’ Breffni twined the phone cord around her fingers.

Laura laughed. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t expect everyone to be as one-track minded as I am right now. My period, I mean – wouldn’t you know, the one time I’m waiting for
it.’

‘Murphy’s Law. You’re probably delaying it, thinking about it all the time.’

‘Yeah – but I’m not that bothered really; it’ll come soon enough. Somehow, I just know –’ Laura paused, serious now ‘– Bref, I’ve got a real
good feeling about this; I really feel it’s going to work out OK for us.’

‘Absolutely; of course it will.’ Breffni opened her eyes, untwined the cord. ‘You and Donal are due a break.’

‘I know; that’s what I feel. It has to turn out right, doesn’t it?’

Breffni nodded at the opposite wall. ‘Of course it does. Let me know as soon as you’ve any news, right?’

‘OK. Talk to you soon.’

The phone went dead in Breffni’s hand, and she hung up and walked back slowly into the kitchen.

Laura, all excited about getting pregnant. Andrew, promising to tell Ruth this weekend. Herself, trying to figure out how to break it to Cian that she’s leaving him and taking Polly with
her.

All go, these days.

‘Hello?’

‘Laura, it’s me.’

‘Andrew – what’s up?’

‘I . . . I need to speak to you.’

He sounded odd. ‘Fine – why don’t you come around this evening? We’ll even feed you.’

‘No – I want to talk to you on your own. Can you meet me after work, in that little pub near the studio?’

Curiouser and curiouser; she began not to like the way this was going. ‘Yeah . . . OK; I’ll give Donal a ring and say I’ll be a bit late. But Andrew, what’s
–’

‘Say you’ll be a lot late. Tell him to expect you when he sees you.’

‘Andrew, what is it? What’s going on?’

‘I’ll talk to you later, OK? What time can you finish?’

She checked her watch. ‘I can be out of here at five thirty; how’s that?’

‘OK. See you then.’ No goodbye, no explanation.

Laura hung up, her good mood draining away.