Better Together (42 page)

‘Oh no. What about Mr Slash-and-Burn’s success rate in rescuing failing businesses?’

‘I don’t think he can save the paper,’ Talia said. ‘You know yourself it wasn’t the world’s most efficient place to work.’

‘The journalists were efficient,’ Sheridan protested. ‘Whatever other problems they had weren’t our fault. I was thinking about it earlier,’ she added. ‘When I was wondering who I could apply to for a job. I was thinking that maybe I should become a blogger instead.’

‘But you wouldn’t make any money out of it.’

‘It would just be for something to do. And if it became really successful, I might pick up some ads. It’s better than nothing. Anyway, I’ve been looking at the sports blogs. I know I could do better.’

‘I guess it would keep your name out there at least.’ Talia nodded her approval. ‘Especially if you were tweeting and Facebooking as well.’

‘Right now the
Central News
is keeping me occupied,’ said Sheridan. ‘But sports is what I love doing and what I ultimately want to concentrate on. So this would be a good way of staying involved.’

‘Go for it.’ Talia spoke positively. ‘Start off with the tweeting; you can get up and running with that really quickly.
I’m glad you’re looking at different options. You just have to have an open mind.’

Sheridan stared at her friend.

‘What?’ asked Talia.

‘That’s what I wrote for my horoscope this week,’ she said. ‘That I needed an open mind.’

Talia laughed. ‘Maybe you’re sending yourself subliminal messages.’

‘Maybe.’

‘In which case, keep that mind wide open. To job opportunities and other opportunities too.’

‘Blogger heaven,’ said Sheridan.

‘I was thinking of
romantic
opportunities,’ Talia said. ‘Given that you didn’t meet Mr Right last night, perhaps you’ll have to give Paudie’s son another chance.’

‘He’d be the one giving me another chance, but I can’t see it somehow,’ said Sheridan.

Talia grinned at her. ‘Maybe he’s keeping an open mind too.’

‘I shouldn’t have said anything to you about it,’ groaned Sheridan.

‘What did you predict for Virgos?’ asked Talia. ‘Given that you seem to have a talent for this.’

‘That everything you do will turn out exactly as you hope.’

‘Crikey. I’d better get my act together this week.’

‘You won’t need to,’ Sheridan assured her. ‘Phaedra, the oracle, has spoken. You’re tipped for the top whether you like it or not.’

‘So are you,’ Talia said. ‘You’re a winner at heart, Sheridan Gray. You know you are.’

Nina was reading the
Central News
as she waited in the bar of Dublin’s Shelbourne Hotel for Sean to arrive. She’d only skimmed the paper earlier in the week because, thankfully, the guesthouse was exceptionally busy, due to people arriving for a golden wedding anniversary party in the town. Pat and Stan Buchan’s extended family was too big to stay in the house with them. Nina was delighted to have them stay with her, especially as they’d booked in not only for the night of the party itself but for a couple of days afterwards too.

Having every room occupied reminded her of why she enjoyed running a guesthouse. She didn’t mind the fact that she was up early to make a cooked breakfast every morning, or that she was constantly stacking and unloading the dishwasher. She realised that, for the first time since he’d left, her thoughts weren’t continually straying back to Sean. Nor was she agonising over what her next step should be. She was too busy grilling sausages and bacon, clearing tables and generally looking after people to think of anything else.

All in all, she was doing much better now, and certainly felt more able to deal with her cheating husband than she’d been even a few weeks earlier. But no matter how much
she told herself to be strong and unyielding, she couldn’t quite get over the fact that she still missed him very, very much.

‘Hi, Nina.’

He walked into the bar looking as handsome and as confident as ever. She wondered how men did that. How it was that they never appeared shaken or worried or insecure, no matter how appropriate those emotions might be. She knew that if their roles had been reversed, she would have slunk into the room, her guilty expression plain for all to see.

He sat down beside her.

‘Nice to see you in town for a change,’ he said. ‘And looking so well.’

She heard the slight tone of surprise in his voice. She knew she was looking better than the last time he’d seen her. She’d had her hair done at the weekend and had asked Danielle to update her colour and style. The more subtle shade and added highlights suited her.

‘You look well yourself,’ she told him.

‘Thanks. Can I get you anything?’

‘Another coffee,’ she said.

Sean ordered two coffees and then relaxed back into the seat.

‘So, when will I come back?’

She stared at him. There was no doubt in his mind that she’d forgiven him and was ready to allow him home. Why? Did he think she was so weak that she couldn’t cope without him?

‘I don’t know,’ she said.

‘For heaven’s sake, Nina! What’s the point in us meeting if I’m not coming home?’ His voice was harsh.

‘I . . .’ Her original reason for meeting him had been to tell him that she was ready for him to return. But when he made that assumption, when he’d already decided for her, she just couldn’t. ‘I needed to talk to you again,’ she said. ‘The last time was unexpected. I didn’t know what I wanted to say.’

‘What d’you need to say? You know I made a mistake, I’ve admitted it, I’m sorry about it. I’m sorry that I embarrassed you and our children. I know I was in the wrong.’

‘It’s not that. It’s just . . . I don’t want to be overwhelmed by you, Sean.’

‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘That’s what you do,’ said Nina. ‘You take people over. You get into their heads and their lives and you make them think that they’re the most important person in the world to you. And then you move on, and they’re not.’

‘You’re talking absolute bullshit,’ said Sean. ‘I didn’t do that to you, Nina. You’ve always been a strong person, with or without me.’

‘Maybe I’m stronger without you.’

He stared at her. ‘You can’t mean that.’

‘I used not to think so. But now . . . I feel like we were living a lie before. That the only reason you were with me was because you and your dad thought it was a good idea. There was the house, after all, and—’

‘Oh my God, you’re not banging that old drum again, are you? It’s a long, long time since you thought I married you for some bricks and mortar.’

‘It felt like it when I got your solicitor’s letter,’ she told him. ‘The one where you said you wanted to come back or you wanted your share.’

‘I told you, I needed to send you something to make you think.’

‘What it made me think was that the house mattered more to you than I did.’

‘That’s not true, Nina,’ said Sean. ‘It isn’t. You’re the constant thing in my life. The person who matters to me the most.’

‘Am I?’

He looked at her warily. ‘What are you up to?’

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Absolutely nothing. I just want to be sure that whatever choice I make, it’s for the right reason.’

‘There is only one choice, Nina. You and me. We’re a team. We always have been, no matter what.’

They sat in silence for a moment. A group of people came into the bar. To her surprise, Nina recognised JJ O’Malley among them. His tall frame towered over the others, reminding her of Paudie. Now there was a man with real inner strength, she thought. After Elva’s death he had been a rock for his children. And he’d lived his life in a focused way ever since.

She wondered if he was happy.

She wondered how easy he found it to forgive.

Sheridan was hyperventilating. She was telling herself to stay calm, but she was finding it difficult, because the deadline for getting the paper to the printer was drawing closer and closer, and she was on her own in the office, trying to get everything done. The reason she was alone was that DJ and Shimmy had both called in unwell that day.

Shimmy had phoned first, a couple of minutes after nine, telling her that he had some kind of bug and had been sick
all night. He shared some graphic descriptions of how ill he’d been, until she told him to stop, that she believed him. He said that everything was up to date and she didn’t need to worry because DJ knew what needed to be done, but that he simply couldn’t come in, he was as weak as a kitten and had a blinding headache. Sheridan assured him that she wasn’t a bit worried and that he should look after himself. Then she’d got on with her own work and waited for DJ to arrive. It had been half an hour later when he’d called, with the exact same symptoms as Shimmy. She knew that they’d both been in Kilkenny the previous evening, meeting with an IT expert (something to do with their website hosting, the details of which had completely passed her by), and at first she thought that they must have been on the total lash and were both suffering from alcohol poisoning, but DJ assured her that he’d only had a couple of pints.

‘We were a bit silly,’ he conceded groggily. ‘We got spice burgers on the way home. I should know better, I always get sick after spice burgers. Fortunately Shimmy has a cast-iron stomach and can eat anything.’

She didn’t tell him that Shimmy hadn’t come in either, and that he’d sounded even worse than DJ himself on the phone. There was no point in the editor getting stressed about the newspaper as well as being ill. So she said the same as she’d said to Shimmy, that she hoped he’d feel better soon and that he should take care of himself, then she applied herself to getting the paper ready.

She’d been quietly confident, because although she hadn’t had to do it all before, she understood the processes now. It wasn’t complicated. But it was all taking so much more time than she’d expected, and for some inexplicable reason the
phone kept ringing, with people wanting to give information about local events or ask questions about placing small ads for the weekend’s edition. Usually the small ads were all done by email, and she couldn’t understand why the one day that she didn’t have time to talk, so many of Ardbawn’s residents seemed to want to chat instead of simply getting on with things.

She was rearranging a page layout when the buzzer sounded. She groaned softly.

‘I’m here to see DJ.’ The voice through the speaker was brusque.

It was easier to buzz the visitor in than try to explain over the intercom where her boss was. Besides, in the few seconds it took him to come up the stairs, she managed to drag an article to the correct place on the page and anchor it there.

She looked up as the door opened. She recognised the man immediately, even though he was older and his hair was greyer than she’d expected. But there was no mistaking the tall, well-built frame, or the blue eyes in the slightly weathered face. She felt her stomach lurch.

‘Paudie O’Malley,’ he said. ‘Where’s DJ?’

She’d often thought about how she’d feel if and when she came face to face with Mr Slash-and-Burn. Angry, she thought. Resentful. Perhaps slightly intimidated. Right now, although she felt all of those things, her overriding emotion was annoyance that he was interrupting her when she was so busy.

‘Not here,’ she said succinctly. ‘Off sick.’

‘Today?’ Paudie’s eyes darkened. ‘When the paper is going to press?’

‘Yeah, well, a dodgy spice burger holds no respect for deadlines,’ said Sheridan.

‘Spice burger?’ Paudie looked appalled. Sheridan supposed that the millionaire businessman wouldn’t be seen dead in a chipper getting a greasy burger and chips. Paudie O’Malley was more of your fine-dining sort of person.

‘Him and Shimmy both,’ she said.

‘Seamus is off too? You’re here on your own?’ This time he sounded horrified.

‘I can cope,’ she said. ‘Once I don’t have to spend too much time on things that don’t matter.’

‘Like talking to me?’ asked Paudie.

Sheridan felt her face redden. She hadn’t meant to sound rude or stroppy, but she knew she must have.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, suddenly nervous again. ‘It’s been a busy day.’

‘I understand. So . . . you’re Sheridan Gray?’

‘Yes.’

‘We meet at last.’ His tone was dry, and she knew she was still blushing.

‘Um . . . yes. Nice to meet you.’ The lie was blatant. She would’ve preferred to meet Paudie O’Malley at a time of her choosing, and when she wasn’t sweating buckets over meeting impossible deadlines.

‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ he asked.

‘Of course.’

He drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk.

She couldn’t concentrate with him standing there, his blue eyes boring into her. She wondered if he was going to lay into her about her supposed taxi-driver impersonation. She didn’t have time for all that right now.

‘Do you need help?’ His tone was slightly less abrupt than previously.

‘I think I can manage.’

‘Would you prefer it if I wasn’t here?’

She winced. Was she making her feelings that obvious?

‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘If you’ve been involved in getting it all together, maybe there’s something you can do. But if not . . . well, I don’t have the time to explain stuff.’ She managed to stop herself adding that she wasn’t entirely sure that she didn’t need someone explaining it to her again too. She’d thought about ringing Myra, but she hadn’t wanted to drag her away from Genevieve. Besides, there was a part of her that relished the challenge. Even if it was stressing her out completely.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Paudie. ‘But I’ll call them at the printing works. Tell them that there might be a delay on the files.’

‘There won’t be,’ said Sheridan.

‘Never make impossible promises,’ advised Paudie. ‘Give yourself a bit of leeway. Allow me to say that things might be a little later than usual.’

That didn’t sound very Slash-and-Burn to her. She glanced at him. His eyes had softened and he was looking at her thoughtfully.

‘I can manage,’ she repeated.

‘I don’t want you just to manage,’ he said. ‘I want everything to be as perfect as it always is.’