Someone Like You (70 page)

The doorbell chimed at that instant. Hugh looked out the window and the stricken look disappeared from his face, it’s Jane,’ he hissed. ‘Perhaps we can keep this argument to ourselves?’

‘Suits me,’ Leonie snapped back.

Jane waltzed in, arms full of bags, with the dogs dancing around her feet.

‘Hello, Leonie,’ she said, almost friendly, ‘I was out in Liffey Valley shopping and I thought I’d drop in on Dad on the way home.’

Leonie stared at the carrier bags. Five bags, all jammed with clothes. All purchased by a woman who still hadn’t paid her father back for booking her holiday on his credit card.

‘What did you buy?’ asked Hugh in his indulgent daddy voice.

Jane beamed and pulled out a lycra black dress that would have looked tarty on a nun. Leonie tried and failed to imagine Jane wearing it. Leonie could never figure out why Jane deliberately bought clothes that did nothing for her shape.

‘Bit revealing,’ Hugh said, eyeing the garment up and down. ‘I suppose you’re going to wow them at the office dinner in that?’

They both laughed conspiratorially.

‘Do you remember that last party when you picked us up from Buck’s and we were all plastered? And when you brought me back to Mum’s, you had to carry me up the stairs?’ Jane began.

She did that every single time they met, Leonie noticed: started a conversation designed to exclude Leonie. As if to say, Look at us, we have a history, we talk about things you know nothing of.

Jane chattered away on the ‘Do you remembers …’ for a few more minutes, shooting Leonie the odd sly glance of triumph.

Leonie picked up Harris again and cuddled him close to her. He favoured her with a couple of devoted licks.

‘What dinner dance?’ she said, attempting to be polite for Hugh’s sake. She couldn’t care less about any office dinner and thought the dress was seriously unsuitable for any professional occasion, unless the profession in question involved dancing sordidly around a pole on a stage in front of lots of drunken, drooling men.

‘We have a big party every summer,’ Jane explained, in the condescending tones of a professor explaining quantum physics to a three-year-old, it used to be a barbecue but some of us complained that we wanted a proper do.’ She smirked. ‘We’re having it in the Great Room in the Shelbourne this year. I can’t wait.’

Leonie would like to see those photos. The Shelbourne and black lycra hooker dresses didn’t match up in her mind.

‘I was about to make coffee,’ Hugh said. ‘Do you want a cup?’

‘Yeah,’ said Jane, sitting down on the couch and picking up the holiday brochures.

‘You going on holiday, Dad?’ she yelled after him.

The demon in Leonie’s head woke up. ‘No,’ she said sweetly, ‘your father and I are trying to pick a holiday together. He wants us to go to Italy but it’s a bad time for me.’

It was gratifying to see Jane’s cold little eyes widen in horror.

‘Maybe September,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I’ve always wanted to drive along the Italian coast in a sports car.

Your dad would love that, wouldn’t he?’

She felt marginally guilty for being bitchy to a kid, but then Jane was hardly a kid. She was a kid the same way that girl in The Exorcist was.

‘I don’t know if he’d like that,’ Jane said coolly, in September, we always used to rent a cottage in West Cork.

Him, me and Stephen.’

‘But you haven’t done that for years,’ Leonie said, ‘have you?’

‘Done what?’ said Hugh, coming back into the room with a tray of coffee-filled mugs.

‘Gone to West Cork,’ said Jane wistfully. ‘Oh, Daddy, can’t we go again this year? That trip with the girls was nice but to be totally relaxed, we need a week in Clonakilty or somewhere. Pub lunches, traditional music sessions at night, walking on the beach … please, let’s go?’

She looked like a child, Leonie thought. A child of divorced parents who’d spent years successfully playing one off the other. That was what Leonie had been afraid would happen to Mel, Abby and Danny when she and Ray split up: that they’d become experts at playing on both parents’

guiltometers, lowering their eyes at opportune moments and saying, ‘Dad would let me do that…’ Luckily, it hadn’t happened that way. But Jane displayed all the symptoms.

The only strange thing was, she’d been almost an adult when Hugh and his wife had split up. And she wasn’t using her wiles to manipulate them. She only wanted to manipulate Hugh so she could have him all to herself.

Hugh was now considering a cottage in West Cork.

‘You could come then, couldn’t you, Leonie?’

Without Jane, it would have been an appealing proposition.

Leonie was very fond of Stephen and would have enjoyed a holiday with him along. But not with Ms Spoilt.

‘I’d have to bring Mel and Abby,’ she said thoughtfully.

‘I

thought it would be just us, Dad,’ pouted Jane.

‘Leonie needs a break, Janie,’ he replied lovingly.

‘Maybe the girls could stay with their granny for the week,’

he suggested.

Leonie stared at him coldly. ‘My family aren’t good enough for West Cork, is that it?’ she said, her earlier anger and hostility reemerging.

‘It’s not that,’ Hugh said earnestly. ‘The cottage we always go to isn’t very big, that’s all.’

‘Renting a bigger one isn’t an option, then?’ Sarcasm dripped from every word Leonie spoke.

‘We always go to the same one,’ Jane said, eyes shining.

Leonie wondered what it was about Jane that made her hand itch to slap her.

Hugh said nothing, not a word about how of course they’d rent a bigger cottage, and what a fool he’d been to suggest Mel and Abby staying anywhere else.

‘Fine.’ Leonie dislodged a disgruntled Harris from her lap and got up. She ignored Jane and addressed Hugh. ‘Go to West Cork, Hugh. You need a holiday. I’m afraid I won’t be going with you. I’ll phone you. Sometime.’

She picked up her handbag and swept out as regally as she could.

Hugh and the three dogs followed her into the small porch. ‘Don’t be like that, Leonie,’ he begged. ‘We could talk about the holiday. The girls might not want to come.

It’ll seem boring to them after a grand holiday in Boston.’

‘You’re amazing, Hugh. And I don’t mean that in a congratulatory way.’ She was wearing heels today so she was much taller than him. She stared down her nose at him now. ‘My children come first in my life and if you don’t understand that, you don’t understand very much about me. I wouldn’t dream of going on a “family holiday”

without my own family. How dare you even suggest it.

Goodbye, Hugh.’

She didn’t wait for him to speak, just opened the door and stormed down the drive. She raged against him all the way home. Other drivers seeing her on the dual carriageway must have thought she was mad, talking to herself and gesticulating furiously.

At home, she phoned Hannah, desperate to talk to someone.

Hannah was unpacking boxes in her new house in London and was delighted to be diverted.

‘I hate this house,’ she moaned to Leonie. ‘The kitchen is hideous and dark, and the hall looks as though it was decorated with blue paint left over from a 1940s mental hospital. I hate being on my own here.’

‘Where’s Felix?’

‘Gone out,’ Hannah said darkly. ‘Tell me your news,’

she added abruptly. ‘Mine is too boringly depressing.’

‘Join the club,’ Leonie said sadly.

In her misery, she told Hannah all the little painful things she’d deliberately never mentioned before. About how Hugh thought multiple orgasms were what happened to him when they made love three times. About the time Hugh had cancelled a date because Jane had phoned him with tickets to a rugby match.

‘The scheming little cow,’ Hannah growled. ‘You don’t get tickets like that at the last minute. She must have known before, she simply waited until he’d set up a date with you and then sprang her surprise.’

And Leonie spilled the beans about the night Hugh had } brought her for a special four-month anniversary dinner in Thornton’s only to have Jane ring the restaurant in hysterics over some trauma. They’d paid the bill, left most of their main course, and Hugh had dropped Leonie at the DART while he hotfooted it over to Jane’s flat to comfort her. She’d never told anyone that: it felt too shameful, as if she was second rate and would never be first.

‘I mean, what did I do wrong?’ Leonie asked tearfully.

‘Where did I make the mistake with Hugh? I thought we were so good for each other.’

‘Don’t ask me,’ Hannah said. ‘I’m no expert on men.’ Leonie laughed, as if it were a joke. ‘Yeah, right,’ she said. ‘The stunning Mrs Andretti who’s the pride of the society pages with her gorgeous husband, the man she caught when nobody else could.’

‘I swear I only caught Felix because he’d decided he needed a wife,’ Hannah said fiercely. ‘He had everything else, he needed a wife. Now he’s got a pregnant wife, which is very useful for impressing TV and film companies who don’t want an unstable, drug-using partygoer starring in their multi-million pound production. They want a reliable family man with huge financial commitments who won’t wreck the budget by getting slammed in jail for doing too much coke in the loos at parties.’

‘What do you mean?’ Leonie was aghast at the anger in Hannah’s voice. It was like hearing that Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward weren’t the most happily married couple in the world after all. Felix and Hannah adored each other, for God’s sake. Didn’t they?

‘Nobody ever understands Felix, did you know that, Leonie? That’s what he said to me the other night,’ Hannah said bitterly. ‘Up till then, I thought that I understood him, but apparently not. He’s been wheeling me around in front of him at parties, telling every journalist he meets about his great love affair, and the reality is that he’s so happy to be back in London that he’s never home. We lived in Bill’s flat for two weeks and I never set eyes on either of them. We moved here on Monday and he hasn’t unpacked one box.’ Her voice quivered. ‘I’m the new publicity angle in his life, for God’s sake!’

‘You don’t mean that, Hannah,’ said Leonie, ever the comforter.

‘Maybe I don’t. If you need a holiday, why don’t you and the twins come to stay with me?’ Hannah suggested, brightening up. ‘Mel and Abby wouldn’t mind sleeping bags, would they?’

‘No,’ Leonie said, thinking that after a luxury holiday in the US, sleeping bags would be very low down the list of Mel and Abby’s idea of fun. ‘That’s lovely of you, Hannah. I’d love it. I’ll talk to the girls when they get home. Are you sure Felix wouldn’t mind us descending upon him?’

Hannah sounded glum again: ‘Felix won’t mind. He’s never here.’

When they’d finished talking, Leonie hung up sadly.

She’d phoned Hannah hoping for comfort and ended up feeling scared for her friend. Hannah was normally so upbeat and now she sounded so down, so depressed, so bitter. It couldn’t be a hormonal thing. Men loved to blame every nuance of a woman’s mood on hormones, but that was way too simple. Hannah had sounded seriously depressed. Not for the first time, Leonie wished that Hannah hadn’t moved away.

She decided to phone Emma to cheer herself up.

Kirsten answered. ‘Hi, Leonie,’ she said when Leonie introduced herself. ‘Em’s upstairs. I’ll just get her.’

‘Hi,’ Emma said in over-bright tones when she finally picked up the phone. ‘Hold on, Leonie, I’ll bring the phone into the other room.’

Leonie could hear a door shut firmly.

‘I couldn’t talk in the hall in case Kirsten heard me,’

Emma whispered.

‘Why? What’s up?’

‘Kirsten’s left Patrick.’

‘What!’

‘Or rather, I should say she left before he threw her out. She had an affair and he found out about it. I think she was flirting madly with everyone for ages and Patrick must have noticed. They were fighting all the time and I didn’t have a clue why. But I guess she finally stopped flirting and actually did the bold thing with some guy they both know. Now it’s all over, between her and Patrick, I mean. She turned up here this morning with eight suitcases and her favourite pillow, saying the marriage was over.’

‘How awful,’ Leonie said, aghast. ‘She didn’t sound upset on the phone, but then, that’s the first time I’ve ever talked to her so I can’t tell.’

‘She’s not upset,’ Emma whispered. ‘I think she’s on tranquillizers or something. Either that, or she expects Patrick to storm up in half an hour and whisk her home, saying he can’t bear to be without her.’

‘Do you think he will?’

‘No. She’s really screwed it up this time. Patrick is a lovely guy but he won’t stand for that. It’s dreadful,’ she added reflectively, ‘they were great together. Patrick was perfect for Kirsten. He indulged her but he was always the boss. Still, if she’s living here, she can help me with Mum.

She hates being on her own, so I’m spending a lot of time with her. Kirsten will be able to lend a hand, I hope. Then again, maybe not. She has to leave the house when Mum starts crying, which she does a lot now, poor love.’

‘Between you, me and Hannah, we’re a right threesome,’

Leonie remarked. ‘I’ve broken up with the man of my dreams, you’re struggling to cope with your entire family’s problems and Hannah is in the depths of despair.’

‘What’s wrong with Hannah?’ asked Emma sharply. She didn’t understand how there could be anything wrong with Hannah. Wasn’t she pregnant? What more could a woman ask for? Typical bloody Hannah - always wanting to have her cake and eat it too.

‘She’s a bit miserable about Felix, that’s all,’ Leonie said, instantly feeling guilty for even mentioning it. Hannah and Emma had barely talked recently. It was obvious that Emma couldn’t cope with seeing Hannah so deliriously pregnant. In turn, Hannah was irritated by the fact that Emma didn’t do something about having a baby of her own. It was up to Leonie to keep the peace between them, something which was increasingly difficult to do.

‘Why?’

‘He’s a bit useless when it comes to unpacking the boxes,’ Leonie said lightly.

‘Is that all?’ Emma sniffed. ‘She doesn’t have much to worry her, does she?’

Dispirited by both her phone calls, Leonie decided there was nothing for it: she’d drop in on Doug.