City Lives (11 page)

She’d like a kitchen like this in her dream cottage, Maggie decided as she cut two thick slices of tea brack and smeared them with butter. She might as well join her father in a cup of tea
before going out on the hunt for eggs. After lunch, while her father had a snooze, she’d take the kids for a long walk on Brittas and inhale some good healthy sea air. When she’d
finished her tea she buttoned up her jacket and went out to the children.

‘Mammy we found three eggs,’ Shona shrieked excitedly as the hens squawked, running here and there across the farmyard. Maggie smiled and relaxed. Searching for eggs always brought
back happy memories of her childhood. She was here now with her children, her computer was at home, it was their time.

‘Great, let’s see if we can find any more. Look over there in the old nest by the gate,’ Maggie urged and laughed as the three children broke into a gallop.

They got a good haul by the time they’d finished their search. Two speckled eggs, three brown eggs and one white one.

‘Do you think Gran will give us some to take home?’ Michael asked as he carried the egg basket carefully into the kitchen.

‘I’m sure she will.’

‘I’m having the white one ’cos I found it,’ Shona announced.

‘That’s not fair. The names should go into a hat,’ Mimi shot back immediately.

‘I think we should give it to Grandad because he’s sick,’ Michael said firmly.

‘A very good idea. And a very thoughtful one, Michael,’ Maggie concurred, relieved that an argument had been averted. ‘Now go upstairs to the bathroom and wash your hands, all
of you, and come down for your lunch. After that how about a walk on the beach?’

‘Cool.’ Michael’s eyes lit up.

‘I’ve to collect shells for nature study,’ Mimi said self-importantly.

‘Me too,’ Shona echoed as she scampered upstairs.

‘Don’t always be copying me,’ Mimi said crossly. ‘You don’t
do
nature study.’

‘Yes we do! We have a nature table and teacher told us to collect shells
and
leaves, Mimi Ryan.’

Maggie left them arguing and threw her eyes up to heaven. If they were like this now, what were they going to be like when they were teenagers?

They devoured their lunch. Maggie, too, enjoyed every morsel. The taste of succulent organic meat, vegetables, and roosters freshly dug out of the ground, and then to round it off a creamy rice
pudding topped with blackberry jam, was indescribable. Maggie silently saluted her mother’s prowess as a cook. Nelsie had never served frozen food or processed meals in her life.

An hour later, as her father snoozed contentedly in front of the fire, waking now and again to listen to the racing on the wireless, Maggie and her children walked along the beach, revelling in
the fresh air and watching the waves, wild and thunderous, tossing spray among the rocks. They searched happily for crabs and periwinkles and pearly shells for the nature table.

It was so peaceful, Maggie reflected. The wind blew her thick auburn hair back from her face as she stood looking at the green and gold fields in the distance, and the long green rippling swathe
of marram grass that grew along miles of fine white sand dunes as far as the eye could see. The sea, blue-green, capped with frothy foam, surged and ebbed in rhythmic flow, the sound and sight
immensely soothing to her hassled spirit.

Maybe Nelsie was right. After this book she might take a break for a year and take some time out for herself and her children. The royalty cheque that she was expecting should be fairly
substantial, going on the sales figures she’d been given. One thing was for sure, she couldn’t keep going at this pace for much longer. She was flying on fumes at this stage. And Terry
would have to start pulling his weight. Maggie’s lips tightened. He’d been getting away with murder for far too long.

Terry pulled the tab on a can of Harp, took a slug, ate a handful of peanuts and switched on Sky Sports. The house was satisfyingly peaceful. He stretched out on the sofa and
prepared to spend a long lazy afternoon. He’d had lunch in the clubhouse with John Dolan and they’d concluded a very successful deal. He deserved some R&R.

The shrill burr of the phone intruded.

‘Piss off,’ he swore grumpily. He’d switched off the answering machine. That had been a mistake, he decided, as he lumbered up off the sofa. It was going back on after
he’d taken this call.

‘Yep?’ he barked testily, half expecting it to be Maggie.

‘Terry?’ An accented voice came down the line.

‘Sulaiman! Sulaiman, my old buddy!’ Terry instantly recognized his old friend from his Saudi days. Sulaiman Al Shariff was a Pakistani kidney specialist. His wife Alma was a
radiologist from Cork. They’d worked in the same hospital as Maggie when they’d been in Saudi and had kept in touch. Alma was a sexy bird, Terry thought admiringly, remembering the
curvy, sensual blonde who liked to tease and flirt.

‘Terry, how are you? We haven’t heard from you in a while. How about that trip to Dubai that you’re always promising to take? You know we could meet up and have some fun while
you and Maggie have a holiday.’

‘One of these days, Sulaiman. One of these days. How about you? You didn’t come home this summer. What’s happening?’

‘Aw, nothing much.’ Sulaiman gave his little laugh. ‘Now that Alma’s parents are dead she doesn’t like to go back to Cork. It’s too sad for her. And of course
she was an only child so there is no close family.’

‘That’s understandable,’ Terry agreed. ‘How are the kids?’

‘Fine, fine. And yours?’

‘Thriving. Big and bold.’

‘The thing is,’ Sulaiman cleared his throat. ‘Ramadan falls during Christmas this year and we were thinking of going to the States for a month. I’ll be attending a
medical conference there. I’m due some leave, also. As you know, I’ve a brother in Washington, we were hoping to have a holiday with him. The thing is, it’s a very long journey
for the kids and we wondered if we could fly via London and Dublin and have a stopover with you for a day or two? It would be lovely to see you. We’d be travelling about twelve days or there
abouts before Christmas. I haven’t the exact date yet.’

‘Day or two, my hat,’ Terry said expansively, ‘spend a week with us. Maggie would be delighted to see you.’

‘A week? Are you sure? We’d get a lot of drinking in, old buddy. We could make home-made brew.’ Sulaiman chuckled.

‘No drinks for you. It’s Ramadan.’ Terry grinned.

‘And we all know how devout I am.’ Sulaiman guffawed. ‘Look, I’ll finalize the details at this end and get back to you. If you’re sure. Do you want to check with
Maggie?’

‘No need. Not at all. It will be fine, Sulaiman, we’ll be delighted to have you. Maggie’ll be thrilled. The more the merrier at Christmas time. We’ll paint the town
red.’

‘Will we what?’ Sulaiman agreed happily. ‘I’ll get back to you soon.’

‘Great stuff, great stuff.’ Terry rubbed his hands. ‘Talk to you soon.’

A visit from Sulaiman and Alma would be fun. Maggie would really enjoy their company. Terry beamed as he hung up and switched on the answering machine. It would be just like old times.

‘You did what?’ shrieked Maggie.

‘I asked them to stay for a week.’

‘You asked the Al Shariffs to stay for a week at
Christmas
?’ Maggie couldn’t believe her ears.

‘It’s no big deal, Maggie. What’s got into you?’ Terry rasped.

‘I’ve got a book to finish. That’s what’s got into me. I don’t need two adults and two kids foisted on me at Christmas. I’ll have enough on my hands, for
God’s sake. What made you do it? The least you could have done was to discuss it with me, Terry.’

‘You weren’t here for fuck’s sake. He asked me straight out.’

In view of her mood, Terry omitted to tell Maggie that Sulaiman had asked only to stay for a day or two.

‘What could I say? They were always very hospitable to us when we were in Saudi.’

‘It’s easy to be hospitable in Saudi when you’ve got two housemen and a chef, Terry,’ Maggie raged. ‘Where are we going to put them all? They’ll have their
maid with them as well.’

‘Naw they won’t,’ Terry blustered.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Terry! Alma Al Shariff is not going to go anywhere without her maid. The maid always travels with the family. Otherwise Alma’d have to mind the kids and
can you see her doing
that
?’ Maggie demanded sarcastically.

‘Oh! Oh I suppose not,’ Terry muttered.

‘I can’t believe this.’ Maggie put her head in her hands. Five people landed in on top of her. Christmas was mad enough as it was. She’d never get her book finished.
She’d have to bring Alma shopping. She’d have to cook morning noon and night. How could Terry have done this to her?

‘You can bloody well take a week’s holiday. I’m not looking after them by myself for the whole time they’re here,’ she said truculently.

‘I can’t do that, Maggie.’ Terry was aghast. ‘I can take a half-day here and there.’

‘You can take a goddamn week, buster, and that’s the end of it. This has nothing to do with me. You issued the invitation. You take responsibility for it. I’m not dealing with
it all by myself. I’m telling you that right now.’ Maggie marched out of the sitting-room and slammed the door behind her.

As if her life wasn’t hectic enough, she fumed, as she thundered upstairs and flung herself on her bed. What kind of a total idiot was she married to? Typical Terry to issue an invitation
to the Al Shariffs and to leave her to look after them.

And it wasn’t as if they were the easiest house guests in the world. They’d stayed with Terry and Maggie for a week a couple of years ago, and they’d expected to be
entertained. Life in the Al Shariff lane was frantic and frenetic. Sulaiman was like a blue-arsed fly. Fidgety and restless, he couldn’t sit down for a minute but always had to be on the go.
They weren’t the types who could curl up with a book and relax for an hour or two. And the kids were as bad. A boy and a girl, seven and four respectively, Maggie hadn’t seen them for a
year. Hopefully a year had made a difference, she thought glumly, because they’d been spoilt rotten the last time she’d encountered the darlings.

A day or two she could have coped with. But a
week
!! This was a nightmare.

Michael would have to go into the girls’ bedroom. The maid and the kids could have his room. And Sulaiman and Alma would have the guest-room.

She’d have to get two fold-up beds. She’d have to get all her Christmas shopping done early, so that she wouldn’t be stuck with that. And she’d have to try and do a big
cook-up and freeze some meals so that she wouldn’t be spending all her time in the kitchen. Maggie lay on the bed, her thoughts racing. She was tired after her day in Wicklow, although Nelsie
had been appreciative. She’d enjoyed her day immensely, she’d told Maggie. It was as good as a holiday, she’d announced.

It had been after nine when they got home. The kids went straight to bed, flaked out after all the fresh air. She’d made herself a cup of coffee and was just about to settle down and watch
Kenny Live
when Terry’d made his proclamation. She could
throttle
him, she thought savagely. Stupid, thick, gobshite. Well, he could take that week off at Christmas or
she’d make his life hell. And he could bloody well stay at home and mind the kids tomorrow night. She was going over to Devlin’s come hell or high water. Devlin had left a message on
the mobile and when she’d called back her best friend had invited her over for dinner and a girls’ night out.

A girls’ night out was just what she needed, because if she didn’t unburden to someone she’d burst. Thank God for friends like Devlin and Caroline. They kept her sane, she
reflected, as she slid off the bed and started to undress. She was going to have an early night and if Terry had any sense he’d sleep on the sofa if he wanted to keep his goolies intact,
because a good hard kick to them would give her a great deal of satisfaction right this minute.

‘Take care of yourself, Devlin, I’ll see you soon. Good luck in Galway. Have fun tonight. I’ll ring later.’ Luke hugged Devlin tighily at the departure
gate. Then he was gone, his broad-shouldered figure disappearing into the security area, leaving Devlin with a pang of loneliness that was always there when he flew to London without her. Today she
felt particularly lonely. Probably because she was pregnant and her hormones were up in a heap, she decided, as she walked forlornly back along the concourse.

Luke hadn’t wanted her to come to the airport, but she hated the idea of him getting a taxi when she could so easily drive him and spend a few more precious minutes in his company.
Besides, it was Sunday and the traffic was light, so it had only taken fifteen minutes to get there.

She brightened up as she drove out of the car park. The girls were coming for dinner. They’d been delighted with her invitation. Caroline had news for her. She was dying to hear it. And
Maggie was going to bring the latest batch of pages from her new novel. It was a great read so far.

She was doing a salmon and pasta dish for the main course. That would only take twenty minutes to prepare, and she’d serve it with a Caesar salad. She had spare ribs in plum sauce for
starters. Pecan pie smothered in cream and ice-cream would slide down gently for afters, Devlin thought with satisfaction as she got into lane to pay the parking fee.

An hour later she had all her preparations made. The ribs were ready to pop in the oven, the salmon flaked, to be added to the cream sauce. The dill was chopped for garnish. Wine was chilling
although she wouldn’t be drinking any of it, she thought regretfully. A glass of chilled wine would go down a treat but she’d wait until her three months were up before indulging in the
odd glass. She’d share a bottle of Amé with Caroline.

She put the finishing touches to the table and decided to read the Sunday supplements in a nice, frothy, warm, scented bath. Devlin spent a lazy hour relaxing in a lavender-and-rose-oil-perfumed
bath that left her pleasantly lethargic.

She dressed in a pair of black palazzo pants and a cream silk shirt and having brushed her blond bob and traced Wild Rose lipstick over her mouth, she padded out to the kitchen in her bare feet.
She loved being barefoot. It always made her feel as though she was off duty.