Better Together (37 page)

Her phone rang just as she pulled up outside the studio. For the briefest of moments she hoped it was Joe, but in fact it was Vinnie Murray, who told her that Conall had been released on bail and that he and his wife had gone home.

‘How is he?’ asked Sheridan.

‘A bit calmer,’ Vinnie replied. ‘I think he realises that he hasn’t made things any easier by his actions.’

‘I’m glad he’s out of prison, though.’

The superintendent sounded amused. ‘He was never in prison, love. Just in the station. He’ll probably get probation anyway. Don’t worry about him.’

‘I’m not worried,’ said Sheridan. ‘I just . . . Oh, well, thanks for ringing.’

She changed out of her jeans and tidied her hair before putting on her jacket again and picking up her laptop. She wanted to go up to the house and check the
Central News
website for the story. Given that she’d messed up her personal life, she might as well devote all her energies to her career, no matter how far down the toilet it appeared to be. Besides, she was sure that Nina would be interested in first-hand gossip too!

Nina was surprised to see her and even more surprised when she heard about the incident at the school.

‘I don’t know Conall,’ she said as she led Sheridan into the lounge. ‘I don’t know many people from the Bawnbeg Estate. In my mind they’re all newcomers, which is silly, because the estate was built more than ten years ago. But you know what it’s like, you remember places how they were when you were younger. New houses, new buildings are always new to you.’

‘You certainly can’t say that about your house,’ said Sheridan. ‘It must be fifty years old.’

‘More than that,’ said Nina. ‘My grandparents built it.’

‘The stories these walls could tell, eh?’

‘Yes.’ Nina’s eyes had a faraway expression and it was a moment or two before she realised Sheridan was standing looking at her.

‘Would you like some tea while you’re working?’ she asked.

Sheridan was suddenly starving. Maybe I’m the sort of person who eats when they’re miserable, she thought. She wanted to ask Nina for some biscuits to go with the tea, but decided the other woman might think she was being rude. So she just said yes to the hot drink.

After Nina had gone into the kitchen, Sheridan opened the laptop. The
Central News
was her browser’s home screen now, and the front-page story had one of the grainy photos she’d taken with her phone and the caption ‘Stand off at St Raphaela’s’ as the headline.

DJ had done a good job, she thought, noting that he’d put in every bit of the information she’d given him, spelling the names of people she’d talked to correctly, giving snippets of information about them. He’d also discovered the names of Conall’s previous employers and had got quotes from two of them, both saying that Conall was a hardworking man and easy to get on with, and that they’d been sorry to let him go. There was some background information on the bank manager and his wife as well, although DJ hadn’t said anything about bastard bankers.

Sheridan surfed the websites of the national media and read their versions of the event, some of which were clearly just cut-and-paste jobs. She remembered that there had been
a reporter from the TV news at the school and she hoped that Nina would allow her to stay in the lounge and wait for the late-night news bulletin to see if they covered it.

‘No problem at all,’ said Nina a few minutes later when she returned with a tray, which she set down on the coffee table. ‘I know it’s prurient interest, but I want to see it too.’ She poured a cup of tea and handed it to Sheridan. ‘Would you like a cupcake? I baked a lot today because I’ve got guests arriving tomorrow.’

‘I can’t eat your guests’ cake,’ protested Sheridan, even as she hungrily eyed the selection of delicate cupcakes on the tray.

‘I made plenty. Don’t worry.’

‘I should stay away from cake, though. A minute on the lips and all that sort of thing.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Nina. ‘You’ve a great figure.’

Sheridan looked startled.

‘Seriously,’ said Nina. ‘You have. When Chrissie was younger she went through a phase of being totally self-conscious about her body shape. Thankfully it didn’t evolve into full-blown anorexia, but she went on diet after ridiculous diet where she spent her time measuring out the quantities of food she could put on her plate and knew the calorie count of just about every morsel that went into her mouth. She lost nearly two stone in weight and it wasn’t one bit good for her. This obsession girls have with looking skinny and boyish is ridiculous. Curves are so much nicer.’

‘I’m sure that’s not what most people think,’ said Sheridan. ‘But thank you for saying so.’

‘We all want to be something we aren’t,’ observed Nina. ‘We all think someone else’s body is more desirable than our own.’

Sheridan nodded slowly. Nina was right.

‘I’ve always wanted to be tall and willowy,’ said Nina. ‘Or maybe blonde and fragile.’ There was a sudden cynicism in her tone that startled Sheridan.

‘I don’t see you as blonde and fragile,’ she said. ‘It’s not you.’

Nina shrugged. ‘Do we act a certain way because of how we look? Or do we try to fit our looks to the way we are?’

‘Interesting question.’ Sheridan bit into a melt-in-the-mouth cupcake. ‘Truth is, even if I was willowy and fragile to begin with, it’d all go horribly wrong for me. Because I can’t resist my food.’

‘Good,’ said Nina. ‘You must have dinner with me again soon.’

‘That’d be nice,’ agreed Sheridan. ‘Oh – the news!’

They turned up the volume of the TV. The story about the school siege came midway through, with a piece to camera in front of the school from the station’s reporter.

‘The eventual capture of the man happened when garda Charlie Sweetman daringly climbed a tree to get to the roof of the building,’ said the reporter.

‘It wasn’t that daring,’ said Sheridan. She was about to tell Nina that it had been her suggestion, but she didn’t want to sound as though she was looking for glory.

‘What d’you think will happen to him?’ asked Nina.

‘I don’t know.’ Sheridan shook her head. ‘I spoke to the superintendent at the station and he seemed to think that Conall might get probation or something. Regardless of how things turned out, there was the potential for disaster.’

‘I’m glad that didn’t happen,’ said Nina.

‘Me too.’

‘So it was an all’s-well-that-ends-well kind of night.’

For Conall Brophy and his wife, thought Sheridan. But not for her. She reached for another cupcake. She didn’t care if she was comfort-eating. Besides, being an ace reporter – even a broken-hearted ace reporter – was hungry work.

She was still feeling a glow from Nina’s comments when she went back to the studio to go to bed. As she opened the wardrobe door to hang up her jeans, the first thing she saw was the green dress. She’d managed to keep the disaster that had been her date with Joe O’Malley out of her mind for the last couple of hours, but it came back to her now and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She’d allowed her emotions to run away with her and she’d implied his father was some fat-cat uncaring capitalist who’d ruined her life. Who would blame Joe for not liking her after that!

She took the dress from the hanger and slipped into it. Damn and blast, she muttered, I do look good wearing it. Maybe Nina’s right about my figure. Maybe it is good. She couldn’t help wondering when the opportunity for anyone else to notice would ever arise.

The hall was crowded with people and their dogs. Sheridan couldn’t believe there were so many of both in Ardbawn. The noise of animals and owners together was deafening, and quite unlike the TV footage she’d once seen of Crufts, where cute canines were looked at by earnest judges in apparent silence. The Ardbawn show was a far more relaxed affair. Most of the dogs were mongrels and most of the owners excited children.

‘It’s a fun day out,’ DJ had told her. ‘Keeps us going until the festival and gives a bit of a buzz to the town. There’s always a few serious entrants, but most people take it light-heartedly. So report on it that way. Unless, of course, there’s a massive fight between a shih-tzu and a Great Dane, which would be hard news.’ He chuckled.

Mindful of DJ’s previous instructions that he wanted quirky shots and stories, she kept her eyes peeled for unusual dogs and equally unusual owners as she walked around the hall. Her collection so far included eighty-year-old Myrtle Mullens and her two enormous German shepherds, Fairy and Buttercup; beefy gym instructor Lance Comiskey and his cute-as-pie white poodle, Barbra; hairdresser Grainne Yates
and her American hairless terrier, Fluffy; and the glamorous manager of the spa, Ritz Boland, with her grey schnauzer.

‘He’s my mum’s dog,’ said Ritz, when Sheridan asked if she could take a photograph. ‘God help us, he’s not the best-looking mutt in the world.’

‘He’s sort of ugly,’ agreed Sheridan as she wrote Boxie’s name into her notebook. ‘But he’s got lots of character.’

Con had once said that about her, she remembered suddenly. He’d been on the phone to one of his friends, who’d been dumped by his girlfriend the night before a charity ball. Con had suggested that Sheridan might be a good substitute. ‘She’s not beautiful but she’s got a great personality,’ she’d heard him tell his friend earnestly. Which had apparently been enough to swing the deal, because Hector Lannigan had asked her to come with him; she’d said yes and it had been a good night, though he hadn’t asked her out again. She thought that he might have got back with the previous girlfriend. Who’d been a stunner, whatever her personality.

I should stop having random associations with my past and concentrate on what I’m supposed to be doing today, she told herself, as she threaded her way between more people and their pets. I’ve got the mismatched pairs, now I need people who look like their dogs.

As she scanned the crowd for likely candidates, she instead saw the dark head of Josh Meagher bending down towards the Old English sheepdog whose name she couldn’t remember. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked for Joe too. Not that she’d know what to say if she saw him. On a competence scale of one to ten, her handling of the Joe situation had been minus eleven.

He hadn’t been in touch with her since their disastrous dinner date (or rather non-dinner date). Not that she’d expected him to call – she’d walked out, after all – but she would have liked the opportunity to try to explain herself to him again, this time more eloquently. Calling him herself, however, seemed too pushy. The whole episode had been entirely unsatisfactory and had left her feeling both inadequate and embarrassed.

There was no sign of Joe. But then she spotted his brother, Peter, who was flicking through the stapled sheets of paper that were the programme. He looked up and caught her eye, then waved enthusiastically.

She walked over to them, remembering that Peter had been friendly even when he’d learned why she was at the house.

‘Hi, Peter. Hi, Josh.’

‘Hello.’ Josh looked at her happily. ‘It’s good here, isn’t it? Bobby isn’t keen on all these other dogs, but he’s going to win a prize.’

‘For the best Old English sheepdog, definitely,’ agreed Sheridan.

‘I haven’t seen any others,’ Peter said.

‘Because Bobby is so much nicer than them,’ she told him. ‘They’re afraid to show their faces.’

‘Exactly.’ Josh beamed. ‘Plus, now that we’re going to classes, he’s very, very obedient. He always does what he’s told.’

‘Just like you,’ said Sheridan.

‘If only,’ said Peter.

‘I have to apologise again,’ Sheridan said to Peter while Josh – having had his photo taken – brought Bobby for a
walk around the big hall. ‘I was so out of order coming to your house like that.’

‘I didn’t think you were the boring sort of person who feels the need to keep saying sorry for their actions.’ Peter frowned at her. ‘I see no reason why you shouldn’t have grasped the opportunity to give us the once-over.’

‘I should’ve rung up and asked to see your father.’

‘And why didn’t you?’ asked Peter.

‘Well, because . . .’

‘Because you knew he’d tell you to eff off.’

She gave him a crooked smile.

‘Of course that’s what he’d have said and of course that’s why you were right to do what you did.’

‘Your sister was upset.’

‘Not as much as she made out,’ said Peter. ‘She hates being made a fool of and she felt really silly mistaking you for a taxi driver. Especially as you were driving a Beetle! Don’t worry about Sinead.’

‘Your father wasn’t best pleased either,’ said Sheridan.

‘We weren’t going to tell him. But Josh blurted something out and so we had to clear things up.’ Peter grinned suddenly. ‘Josh has a bit of a crush on you.’

Sheridan laughed. ‘I doubt that.’

‘You praised his footballing skills. That’s more than enough to wriggle your way into my nephew’s affections. And then, of course, you caught the eye of my brother, too.’

‘Oh, look . . .’

‘But maybe I should get there ahead of him. Are you doing anything tonight? Fancy going for a drink? Or dinner, perhaps?’

She looked at him wordlessly. She couldn’t quite believe that another O’Malley was asking her on a date.

‘That’s really nice of you, but—’ she began, before Peter interrupted her.

‘Don’t be boring again and say no,’ he told her. ‘You’ll ruin my image of you as a free spirit. Besides, I desperately need someone else in this town to talk to.’

‘I’m sure there are plenty of people . . .’

‘I don’t live here any more,’ he said. ‘I feel like a fish out of water whenever I come back. It would be great to go out with someone who isn’t from Ardbawn.’

‘It’s just . . .’

‘I’m not asking you on a big romantic date,’ he said. ‘I’ll be leaving again soon. So it’s just a drink and something to eat. Nothing more. No pressure.’

‘It’s not that,’ she said. ‘It’s . . . well . . .’

She took a deep breath and told him about Joe. His eyes opened wide.

‘Well, isn’t he the dark horse. He never said a word.’

‘So you can see why I can’t go out with you.’