Better Together (23 page)

‘I can imagine.’ Sheridan looked at his almost empty plate.

‘Ah, it was a bit of fun for both of us. But she has her sights set on bigger and better things and I’m free and single.’ He winked at her.

‘Are you hitting on me?’ she asked.

‘I’m being friendly,’ said DJ. ‘That’s all. I hate this bloody PC life where you can’t make jokes to women without them thinking you’re trying to—’

‘I wasn’t thinking anything,’ said Sheridan. ‘Just trying to set boundaries. You’re my boss, after all.’

‘You could probably buy and sell me,’ he said in amusement. ‘Give you a few more weeks and you’ll be running the
Central News
.’

‘I’d be a shockingly bad editor,’ she said. ‘I don’t know enough about the town or the people or how things work. But I do want to do my best while I’m here.’

‘You’ve a good heart,’ he told her. ‘I’m glad you’re with us.’

She felt unaccountably pleased at his words, although she was perfectly sure that he would’ve said the same to whoever had joined the paper.

‘And who knows, maybe you’ll break a big story for us and get us national recognition,’ he joked.

He probably wouldn’t like the fact that she hoped her big story would be about Paudie O’Malley, even if it was a story that would never get printed in the
Central News
. She said nothing while DJ finished his steak and chips and ordered some peach pie and ice cream. Sheridan, who hadn’t planned on dessert, felt her resolve weaken when the plate was put in front of DJ and she ordered some too.

When both of them had finished, she decided to ask DJ a few casual questions about the owner of the
Central News
. She said that she was interested in knowing about the man who was ultimately paying her salary, and she was also curious to see if DJ’s account of him would be the same as Nina’s.

It didn’t differ very much, though DJ added a few extra snippets. He told her the story of Paudie’s most recent renovation of his house, and added that keeping cattle was an occupational hazard among the rich and famous of Ardbawn, because, like the rock star, Paudie also had a herd, although in his case they were Limousins.

‘Does he look after them himself?’ asked Sheridan.

‘Not at all. He has a stockman. But he could, I’m sure. Paudie comes from a farming family. He knows his cattle.’

Sheridan couldn’t help laughing. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I just never thought that I’d be in a position in my life where I’d be talking about cattle.’

‘There you go,’ said DJ. ‘Ardbawn is broadening your horizons already.’

‘How about Paudie?’ she asked, returning to the topic of the businessman. ‘Is there anyone in his life?’

Nina might not think so, but maybe DJ would have a better idea.

‘He has a very busy life,’ said DJ. ‘There’s a lot of people in it.’

‘I meant romantically.’

‘Oh. There was someone briefly, shortly after his wife died. But not at the moment, not that I know of.’

‘I heard all about Elva.’

DJ’s smile was knowing. ‘I thought you’d check up on him,’ he said.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Paudie is Ardbawn’s best-known resident. I’d have been surprised if you didn’t do a bit of digging.’

Sheridan shrugged. ‘Naturally I looked him up.’

‘It was big news when Elva died,’ said DJ. ‘She fell out of a window.’

Everyone was very keen to emphasise that Elva fell out of the window, thought Sheridan. She told DJ she’d already heard about that. ‘Although there isn’t much material on the web. Too long ago, I guess.’

‘He threw himself into his businesses afterwards,’ said DJ.
‘His way of getting over it. He did a lot for the town. So we’re very supportive of him here.’

‘I know,’ said Sheridan.

DJ looked at her curiously.

‘Nina told me.’

‘Ah.’

‘It seemed to me that there was some kind of history there,’ said Sheridan. ‘She wasn’t entirely comfortable talking about him.’

‘Nina isn’t a gossip,’ DJ told her. ‘She respects Paudie and so should you. After all, he owns the paper you work for, no matter what might have happened before. C’mon, ace reporter, we’d better get back. You have some horoscopes to write.’

Sheridan wished he hadn’t reminded her of the horoscopes. She was dreading them. And she still hadn’t a clue what she was going to do about the Ask Sarah agony column either. She followed him out of the pub. He told her that he wasn’t going directly back to the office, that he had to call in and see the local councillor first (a piece we’re doing about car parking charges, he said) but that he’d catch up with her later.

Sheridan headed towards the
Central News
, realising that she was starting to recognise more and more people in the town, even though she didn’t yet know all of them by name. By the end of my stint here, she thought, I’ll be practically a native. And maybe I won’t want to upset the Paudie O’Malley apple cart either. So I’d better get a move on with it.

There was a silver Audi convertible parked in front of the entrance to the
Central News
. Sheridan’s first thought was
that it might belong to Paudie, that Mr Slash-and-Burn himself had come to check up on the temporary reporter on his newspaper. But she dismissed the idea as being ludicrous – Paudie probably didn’t even know that Myra was on maternity leave. And then she saw the man walking out of the deli and she recognised him straight away.

Immediately she felt as if she were in a high-speed lift shooting upwards, leaving her stomach behind. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She told herself that she was being beyond silly by allowing herself to be attracted to Josh Meagher’s father. But she simply couldn’t help the way her heart was fluttering and the sense of expectation that enveloped her. She looked away as he opened the car door, but it was he who said hello to her.

‘Hi.’ She gave him a friendly smile and took out the office door key. She put it into the lock and opened it.

‘Do you work here?’ The man sounded surprised.

‘Yes. With the
Central News
. I’m a temp,’ she added.

‘Oh, right. I didn’t know they had one. Well, nice to meet you again.’

‘You too. Hope Josh enjoyed his lunch after the match.’

‘He sure did. That child could pack away an entire buffet and not even notice.’ There was a note of admiration in his father’s voice.

‘A growing boy.’

‘Indeed.’

‘He’s a good footballer.’

‘He’s good at anything that works off energy, which is just as well, because he’s got so much of it. Totally exhausting. I don’t know how his mum puts up with it.’

‘In a few years he’ll be a moody teenager who doesn’t get
out of bed,’ Sheridan said. ‘And you’ll be complaining about that too.’

The man laughed. ‘I guess you’re right. His energy should be embraced and we should make the most of it.’

‘You should. Well, good talking to you, but I’ve got to go.’

‘Good talking to you too. The name’s Joe, by the way.’

‘Sheridan.’ She gave him a quick smile and then let herself into the office. She couldn’t quite believe that she was trembling. She didn’t know why she was feeling what she was feeling. But she knew she was head over heels in lust with a man named Joe who had a son who was a good footballer.

She hoped she’d never see either of them again.

During her time at the
City Scope
, Sheridan had always met her deadlines with considerable ease. But near the end of the week she was panicking as she typed, glancing between the notes on her desk and some open web pages on the screen in front of her and hoping desperately that she’d get everything done in time. She’d managed to lick Des Browne’s sports reports into shape, had written two pieces about local events from notes that DJ had emailed her, plus a column on the latest in winter fashions (having asked Talia for some hints), and was now struggling through the last of the horoscopes. She’d finished the Ask Sarah advice piece the day before, telling the writer that having an affair with her husband’s brother probably wasn’t going to work out well in the long run. She’d become quite animated as she wrote the advice and had ended up cutting half of it when she realised that she’d gone way over the word count necessary.

By the time she got as far as the horoscopes, she was exhausted. I suppose I should have something nice happen for me, she thought, as she contemplated her own sign, Leo. Like a lottery win. Only that would mean buying a ticket, which I always forget to do. Besides, nobody ever forecasts
lottery wins. That’s the thing about astrologers. I’d believe in them if someone accurately predicted a lottery win!

Meeting someone new. Horoscopes were always talking about meeting new people. A stranger to bring love into your life. She closed her eyes and saw Josh’s dad again. A classic tall, dark and handsome stranger. She felt her stomach flutter in the disconcerting way it had done on the two occasions she’d met him. She was at a complete loss to understand why a man she’d barely spoken to was having such a profound effect on her. It was bizarre. And strangely pleasurable. She opened her eyes again and looked at the blank screen in front of her. No strange men bringing love into her life. Especially, she reminded herself, strange married men. That wasn’t what she was here for. She needed to focus. She needed to remember that her job was to churn out words, not get involved in feelings.

A win of some sort, she decided eventually. She needed to be a winner as far as her job was concerned, and that was what Pat and Alice wanted for her too. Maybe telling herself that she was one would make it happen. So she typed that Leos were back to winning ways, and she hoped that her own prediction would come true.

When she’d finally finished, she leaned back in her chair and sighed deeply.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ asked DJ.

‘I’m knackered,’ she told him. ‘I’ve never had a more stressful week at a paper. Except maybe last week.’

‘Get used to it,’ Shimmy warned her, although his tone was cheerful. ‘You cosseted Dublin hacks haven’t a clue when it comes to real pressure.’

‘You’ll be grand once you’ve got another few days under
your belt,’ said DJ. ‘And I have some more things in mind for you next week. The drama society are starting rehearsals for their latest play, and I thought it’d be good to interview the chairwoman to get a sense of where they’re at. It’s a good group, and talented too.’

‘That’s how Sean Fallon got his break,’ remarked Shimmy. ‘He stepped in at the last minute after a panicked call from Hayley Goodwin and got them out of a hole. It was all total chance, but I bet half of Ardbawn are hoping to be as lucky!’

It took Sheridan a minute to place the name and then remember that she was Talia’s aunt. The woman who’d launched Sean Fallon on to the set of
Chandler’s Park
and catapulted him into the arms of another woman had also been indirectly responsible for her own job! It would be interesting to meet her.

‘Also,’ said DJ, ‘there’s a bit of a barney going on between the golf club and a local business. They’re both claiming ownership of a strip of land that the club wants to develop. I want you to talk to both sides.’

‘Really?’ That sounded like proper journalism to Sheridan.

DJ smiled at her. ‘You’re very enthusiastic all of a sudden.’

‘Why wouldn’t I be when you’re allowing me to do actual reporting on something interesting instead of making up nonsense about the future?’

‘The horoscopes are very popular,’ DJ reminded her. ‘And as far as reporting goes, I’m not allowing you, I’m assigning you.’

‘Allowing, assigning, whatever.’ Sheridan grinned. ‘I have ideas already.’

‘But just to bring you back to earth, ace reporter, don’t
forget you’re meeting Ritz today at the Riverview to do the advertorial for the Ard Spa.’

‘I know.’ Sheridan glanced at her watch. ‘So I’d better get on with tidying up the report on the plans to clean up the Bawnee River.’

She began typing rapidly again. When she sent the completed piece to DJ, he gave her a satisfied thumbs-up that made her feel as though her winning ways had already started.

The hotel was about a kilometre outside the town, and like the guesthouse it was situated close to the river. It was also right beside the Ardbawn Golf Club, which was one of the reasons why it was very popular for short breaks. Sheridan had looked up its website before leaving the office and saw that the spa was a major draw too.

The Riverview was built around a paved courtyard containing a large fountain in a granite setting. The building itself was a modern smoked-glass and steel construction that seemed out of place in laid-back Ardbawn, but the brightly coloured flowers and carefully tended plants also lent an air of quiet luxury.

Sheridan drove into the underground car park and took the lift to reception. This was another modern design, with glossy cream marble tiles and a matching reception desk. The receptionist, a man in his twenties, was wearing a well-cut suit and a red tie. Sheridan said that she was here to see Ritz and he told her to make her way to the spa area, which was accessed by a private lift. It was a far cry from Nina’s homely guesthouse, she thought, as the lift descended smoothly to the basement, and I bet the owners would never
ask me to have dinner with them and talk about their lives like Nina did.

Ritz was waiting to greet her as she pushed open the opaque glass doors that led to the spa. Once again Sheridan was struck by how beautiful the manager was, carrying herself with the same effortless grace as Talia and with a sheen of glamour about her that made her seem glossy and airbrushed.

How come I seem to spend so much time with gorgeous, skinny people? she asked herself as she glanced at her own reflection in the mirror in front of her and noticed that her hair was looking as wild as ever. Is it some kind of masochism on my part?

‘Hi,’ said Ritz. ‘Good to see you. Let me give you the tour.’

Sheridan followed her down a subtly lit corridor. The air was warm and scented with sandalwood and the mood music soft and gentle. Sheridan, who’d done quite a few spa freebies with Talia in the past, thought that the Riverview was hitting all the right spots so far. Ritz stopped outside a row of closed doors and began talking about the different treatments on offer and how the Ard Spa had some of the best therapists in the country.