The Matchmaker (10 page)

‘That journalist girl? I thought she’d gone abroad.’

‘Apparently she came back and they bumped into each other and have somehow kept bumping into each other; so when I thought he was working late or having dinner with clients over the past few weeks he was actually seeing her, catching up on old times, falling in love with Ruth all over bloody well again. Can you believe it?’

Maggie didn’t know what to say. She could believe it. She could believe that a man would walk away from one woman into the arms of another without giving it barely a thought. Women had their hearts broken time after time by men who weren’t even half good enough for them. Grace was beautiful and kind and far too good for the likes of someone like Shane who was clearly a womanizer and a cheat. Let that other girl have him! She was relieved that he was out of her daughter’s life.

‘I’m sorry, Grace, sorry he’s hurt you so much.’

‘Mum, what am I going to do without him?’ her daughter asked despairingly, clutching the wine glass and slumping on the kitchen chair.

Maggie didn’t know what to say. Grace would get over him. She mightn’t want to hear that right now when she was caught up in the drama and upset of it but she was far better without a self-centred man like Shane O’Sullivan. But loss was always hard to get through.

‘You will learn to forget him,’ she urged. ‘You have me and your sisters and your friends and lots of people to love you.’

‘I feel such a fool,’ she gulped. ‘Such a stupid eejit! I should have copped on to what was going on!’ She rambled on, talking all in a rush, one minute cross and angry, the next despairing. Maggie listened, made tea and toast and tried to get her daughter to drink and eat a little.

‘How can I face going into work and seeing him in the office again? Everyone will know about us, about what’s happened. They’ll all think I’m such a loser.’

‘Grace, you have done nothing wrong,’ Maggie said firmly. ‘You told me more than a hundred people work in Thornton’s and I’m sure that most people are far too busy to even notice what’s happened between you two.’

Grace made an attempt to try to finish off the wine bottle but Maggie poured herself a huge glass. She had no intention of drinking it but wanted to get her daughter to agree to go to bed instead of pacing up and down the kitchen as she was doing.

‘Your old room is ready,’ she hinted, taking in the red-rimmed blue eyes and the white, strained face. ‘Maybe it’s time you went to bed and slept a bit, pet. You look exhausted.’

‘I am exhausted,’ Grace said drunkenly.

‘Then come on. We’ll tidy here in the morning.’

She managed to cajole her daughter upstairs, thanking heaven she’d only freshened up the room a few days ago and had turned the radiator on before she left.

She was just about to get into bed herself when she realized that Grace had made a speedy exit and was in the family bathroom retching and puking. Poor thing! All she could do to help was hold her hair back and give her a cool soaked face flannel to wipe her face.

‘It’ll be all right, pet. You’ll feel a bit better in the morning.’

The only consolation was that Grace would likely sleep for a few hours, putting the pain of the break-up on hold till she was calm and sober again. Maggie passed her a fresh pair of pyjamas and settled her into bed, leaving the door of the room ajar so that she could listen in case she was needed. She was relieved to see Grace curl up into her usual foetal position and fall asleep almost straight away, her pale, washed-out skin and fair hair pulled back into a scrunchie hairband making her look more like sixteen than nearly thirty years old.

‘My poor baby,’ Maggie murmured, kissing her forehead.

Maggie sat up in bed reading for the next few hours, wishing for Leo’s calming presence, unable to doze till the early morning news on the radio came on, only then trusting herself to sleep a bit. A little heartbreak was nothing new when you have a family of daughters but this was different. Grace had really expected this relationship to work. Her eldest daughter wasn’t used to failure, to things going wrong. She supposed there was one hell of a difference between what you hoped would happen when you’re twenty than when you’re thirty.

At nine a.m. she phoned Kate, Grace’s secretary at Thornton’s, and told her that Grace was ill and would not be in the office today. She sighed as she phoned Anna’s number. If she had an early lecture she’d leave a message. Then once Evie had gone to school, she’d phone Sarah. If there was one time Grace needed her sisters it was now. Outsiders mightn’t understand it but this was the one time her girls should stick together.

She checked on her a few times but Grace slept till nearly lunchtime, her face tight and tense, wrapped up in the duvet.

She’d cancelled her appointment for coffee with her old friend Sylvia claiming a headache, and busied herself tidying the kitchen and deadheading old roses in the pots at the back door.

‘What’s up, Mum?’ asked Sarah, concern in her voice as she rounded the corner of the garden. ‘You said it was something to do with Grace.’

‘She’s broken up with Shane.’

‘Maybe it’s just a fight or something,’ suggested Sarah. ‘You know how headstrong they both are.’

‘No. It’s definitely over. He’s gone back to that old girlfriend of his.’

‘Oh, poor Grace! How is she?’

‘She’s devastated. I collected her at about two o’clock this morning. She drank far too much wine and she’s asleep upstairs.’

‘Will I run up and talk to her?’

‘No, let her sleep, she’s exhausted.’

Maggie made a fresh pot of coffee as she and Sarah mulled over the vagaries of male behaviour and the havoc it wreaked on females.

‘I’d kill any guy who strung Evie along like that!’ Sarah threatened, her pretty face serious, her blue eyes unwavering.

Maggie suppressed a smile as it was exactly how she felt whenever anyone wounded one of her own precious offspring. She’d thought that mother-lion instinct would have disappeared as her children grew up and needed her less, but she was amazed to discover that it was as strong as ever. She could have ripped Shane from head to toe for the pain he had caused her eldest daughter.

‘He didn’t deserve to have someone as lovely as Grace love him,’ she said, relieved that he was out of her daughter’s life.

Sarah nodded fiercely in agreement before having to rush off to get a few things from the shops before Evie got out from school.

‘She’s bringing a friend home and I promised to let them make fairy cakes and decorate them. I need to get some icing sugar.’

Maggie smiled, remembering after-school baking sessions and the mess they created. ‘Have fun, and tell Evie to save a bun for her granny.’

‘I’ll call in later to see Grace,’ promised Sarah as she slipped out the kitchen door.

Maggie was reading the paper and eating some tuna and mayonnaise on toast when Grace finally appeared. She looked awful: white-faced, hair greasy, totally hungover as she filled a glass with cold water from the tap.

‘Sit down, pet, and I’ll make you a mug of coffee.’

Grace slid on to the kitchen chair. ‘I’m sorry about last night, Mum, dragging you out and all that.’

‘It’s fine. That’s what mothers are for.’

Grace stared blankly at the table and the wooden floor. ‘I just can’t believe it’s over,’ she repeated. ‘I thought Shane was the one; the guy that I’d been waiting for, maybe my Mr Right!’

Maggie said nothing as she slipped her arms around her daughter and hugged her as if she were a small girl again. To her mind Shane O’Sullivan had never been Mr Right material.

‘Grace, everyone makes mistakes and we don’t always choose the right people to fall in love with,’ Maggie said, trying to console her. However, she was determined that the next man in her daughter’s life would be totally different. He would be reliable, trustworthy and kind, the type to sweep Grace off her feet and want to marry her! A tall order, she supposed but if she had her way the next man Grace dated would be . . . the one.

Somehow she managed to coax her into eating a slice of toast and drink two cups of milky coffee.

‘What am I going to do, Mum? What am I going to say to people?’

‘You’ll just tell them the truth, that Shane and this girlfriend are back together, that’s all. And you’ll get on with the rest of your life.’

Grace looked dubious, and Maggie wasn’t surprised. She knew the reality and utter loneliness of finding yourself suddenly without a partner. Being alone was a nightmare. Despite having family and friends around her, Maggie knew far too much about being lonely and missing someone to pretend it wasn’t going to be awful.

‘What about a nice hot shower to freshen up?’ she suggested. ‘It’ll make you feel better and then if you’re up to it we could go for a little walk afterwards. A blast of sea breeze would do us both good.’

‘I don’t feel like a walk,’ demurred Grace, sounding more and more like a disgruntled toddler.

After some persuasion, however, Grace had eventually given in and they walked Dun Laoghaire Pier together two hours later, muffled up against the sea breeze in warm fleece jackets. The wind caught their voices as seagulls whirled up above them and the yachts in the harbour marina bobbed up and down in the water, the clang of their rigging filling the air as the waves tossed them against their moorings. It was certainly bracing, a little bit more than Maggie had reckoned, but she could see Grace tilt her long face to the winds and inhale deeply, sucking in the energy and vigour of nature, her chin stuck out determinedly just as she had done when she was a little girl.

Retreating to bed again Grace took in the familiar scene of her old bedroom in Pleasant Square. She felt as if she was ten years old and right back where she’d started. Back to being a kid. Lying in the warmth of the small single bed with its springy old mattress and heavy quilt with the faded denim patterned cover she felt safe. She could pretend that she had never grown up and messed up her life so badly and that Shane O’Sullivan had never crossed her path. She looked at the natural pine wardrobe, chest of drawers and shelves around her. As a stroppy teenager she had argued with her dad about getting rid of the old mahogany wardrobe in the corner; she had wanted everything new and fresh so she could create her own look. Leo Ryan had given in and the room had been kitted out with pine furniture and bright paint. She had bedecked the walls with modern art prints and later with photographs of the work of architects Frank Gehry and Santiago Calatrava. This room had been her bolt hole, with her desk and bookshelves and make-up and clothes. A sign to ‘Keep out’ pasted on her door had proved little deterrent to her sisters who constantly invaded her private space. Yet now, heart sore and feelings numbed, she felt comforted lying here, surrounded by the familiar sounds of the house, her mother moving around below in the kitchen, the radio on, the breeze blowing through the leaves of the tall sycamore tree in the back garden. She snuggled up, wishing that she never had to leave this bed or this room, never had to brave the outside world ever again. Sometimes she longed to be a little girl instead of a grown-up. Hearing footsteps on the stairs she rolled over, pretending to be asleep, holding her breath as Evie entered the room.

‘Sshh, your auntie is asleep.’ It was her sister’s voice.

‘What’s wrong with her?’ quizzed Evie. ‘Is she sick?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Did she get a tummy bug like Ashling? She puked on the floor in school today and it was yucky and Miss Roche had to clean it up.’

‘No, not that sort of sick,’ Sarah reassured her patiently, ‘it’s more that Grace feels sad about something. You’ll understand it better when you are older.’

Grace kept her eyes tightly shut and held her breath as the two of them stood over the bed. Why couldn’t they just feck off and leave her in peace?

‘Mummy, has she got a pain in her tummy?’

‘It’s a different kind of pain.’

Curious, Evie bent down to examine her closely, her face hanging over hers. Grace tried to pretend she was asleep but her eyes flickered, suddenly catching those of her little niece.

‘She’s awake,’ cried Evie, excitedly clambering on top of her in the bed.

‘Sorry,’ whispered Sarah, ‘no peace for the wicked!’

‘Come and give your poor aunty a big hug, I could sure do with one from my favourite girl.’

Evie, still in her school uniform, wrapped her arms tightly around her and squeezed.

‘That makes me feel a whole lot better,’ admitted Grace, realizing as she sat up that it was actually the truth.

‘How are you?’ asked Sarah gently, sitting on the side of the bed.

‘Bashed and bruised and pretty hungover!’

Sarah sighed. ‘Better to have loved and lost and all that.’

‘Mum’s favourite bloody saying,’ Grace groaned, leaning up against the pillows. ‘It drives me mad every time I hear it! She’s already had me down Dun Laoghaire Pier in a gale-force wind trying to blow my troubles away – would that it was so easy!’

‘Mum always walks the pier in time of family crisis,’ Sarah reminded her. ‘Don’t you remember we were up and down it like yo-yos when I was expecting and after Maurizio and I broke up!’

‘God, yes, I remember that.’ Grace suddenly realized that her crisis paled into insignificance compared to Sarah’s tumultuous love life.

Bored, Evie got up, playing with Grace’s things that were scattered on the dressing table, discovering her measuring tape with a fancy light.

‘Mummy, what’s this for?’ she asked, turning it over.

‘It’s for measuring things,’ explained Sarah, ‘and you should really ask Grace if you can play with it.’

‘It’s fine,’ Grace said, wishing that she would never have to measure or make calculations or work in close proximity with Shane ever again. She watched as Evie pulled out the tape and began to measure the drawers, the chair and the desk systematically.

‘Why don’t you go down to Granny and get her to help you measure some things?’ suggested her sister diplomatically.

‘OK.’ Evie grinned. She made for the bedroom door and went down the stairs.

As her footsteps receded, Grace turned to her sister. ‘Sarah, what am I going to do about work? It’s going to be a nightmare having to see Shane all the time.’