City Lives (2 page)

She wiped her eyes and did the test. It wasn’t fair to dawdle. She slipped the wand into her dressing-gown pocket. He was standing by the bedroom window looking out towards the twinkling
lights of Howth when she padded in to him and slipped an arm around his waist.

He dropped an arm around her shoulder and smiled down at her.

‘How long do we have to wait?’

‘Just another minute or so. My heart’s thumping so fast I can almost hear it.’

‘Mine too.’

‘Are you sure this is what you want, Luke?’ Devlin stared up into her husband’s amber eyes, searching for reassurance.

‘Of course it’s what I want, Devlin. More than anything. As long as you’re happy about it.’

‘Oh Luke, I want your baby so much. I’ve always hoped this day would come. I can’t believe it. It’s a bit like a dream.’

‘It’s no dream. You keep seducing me against my will. You’re a nymphomaniac. I’m not safe anywhere. It was bound to happen.’

‘Stop it, you. Be serious.’ Devlin giggled.

‘I
am
serious,’ he protested. ‘Very serious. I mean, Devlin, jumping me in the lift . . . if your public saw you. And what about the time we went for a walk down in
Wicklow and you—’

‘Stop it. You’re as bad. Remember the time at the airport?’

They smiled and wrapped their arms around each other, happier than they’d ever been.

‘But we’ll have to decide where we’re going to live. London or Dublin. And I’d like a house with a garden. Apartments are no places to raise children.’
Devlin’s brow furrowed.

Luke laughed. ‘Will you stop panicking, Delaney. You’re an awful woman for jumping the gun. We don’t even know if you
are
pregnant yet. Let me see that
thing.’

Devlin took the wand from her pocket. They glanced down at it together.

‘Oh my God!’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s blue! It’s blue! Devlin, we’re pregnant! We’re pregnant!’

‘Oh Luke, you idiot.’ Devlin was half laughing, half crying as he swept her up in his arms and hugged the daylights out of her again.

‘I think I’ll do another one just to be sure,’ she murmured, rubbing her nose against his.

‘I’ve a better idea,’ Luke grinned as he carried her over to the bed. ‘Let’s make sure, sure.’

‘I forgot I’d married a genius . . . and you call
me
a nymphomaniac.’

‘Well, you couldn’t call
me
one,’ Luke teased and Devlin burst out laughing.

‘I love you. I really, really love you,’ she whispered.

‘I love you too, Devlin, with all my heart.’

Devlin drew him down to her and kissed her husband soundly.

Afterwards, drowsy, replete, and utterly content, Devlin lay cradled in Luke’s arms. ‘It just gets better and better,’ she murmured.

‘Yeah!’ Luke smiled down at her.

‘What would you prefer, boy or girl?’ Devlin snuggled closer.

‘I don’t mind. I just can’t believe that I’m going to be a father. Let’s not ask when you go for your scan. Let’s have a surprise.’ He gently stroked
the softness of her still-flat belly. ‘Are you all right about the baby, Devlin? I mean I’m sure it’s going to bring back memories of Lynn. Promise me you won’t keep it all
bottled in. Share it all with me, won’t you?’

‘I had a little cry in the loo, when I was doing the test,’ she confessed. ‘I was just thinking how joyful this is and how devastated I was when I discovered I was pregnant
with Lynn. And then how happy I was when she was born. She was a beautiful baby, Luke.’

‘I know she was. How could she not be with you as her mother,’ Luke said gently. ‘And this baby isn’t a replacement for Lynn. No-one will ever replace that precious
little child for you. So if you get a bit down, please don’t hide it from me. Promise.’

‘I promise, Luke. But I want this to be a good time for you.’ Devlin took his face in her hands and smiled at him.

‘All my times with you are good times,’ Luke said huskily as he lowered his head and kissed her passionately.

Later, Luke made tea and toasted-cheese sandwiches and they sat snuggled up in front of the fire eating their supper.

‘Will you still think I’m sexy when I’m waddling around with a big bump?’ Devlin asked.

‘I’ll always think you’re sexy,’ Luke assured her. ‘I even think you’re sexy with a big dribble of butter and melted cheese running down your chin.
Here.’ He handed her a napkin.

‘You’re such a brat, Luke Reilly.’ Devlin wiped her chin. ‘I’m looking for reassurance here. When I was pregnant with Lynn I was like an elephant.’

‘Does this mean I’m in danger of being
squashed
if you jump on me in lifts, or wrestle me to the ground under oak trees in the country? Is my life in danger?’ Luke
stared at her in pretend horror.

‘Oh Luke!’ Devlin laughed.

‘Devlin, honestly I don’t care what you look like. I love you. I’m delighted you’re pregnant. I’ll go to classes and decorate nurseries and do whatever you want. I
just want to be with you and share every moment of this with you and I want it to be the happiest time of your life.’ Luke reached over to her and took her face between his hands.

Devlin promptly burst into tears.

Luke looked horrified. ‘For God’s sake, what’s wrong?’

‘I’m just so happy,’ she sniffed. ‘Don’t mind me, it’s my hormones.’

‘Oh God! I’d forgotten about
The Hormones
.’ Luke smote his forehead. ‘Are pregnancy hormones worse than PMT ones?’

‘A hundred times worse,’ Devlin assured him, half laughing, half crying.

‘Interesting times ahead, so.’ Luke raised an eyebrow. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll cope. I’m made of stern stuff. Do you want another sanger, now that you’re
eating for two?’

‘Oh yeah, I’m ravenous,’ Devlin declared.

‘OK, sit there and put your feet up. One Reilly special coming up.’ Luke kissed the top of her head and departed to the kitchen.

Devlin sat in the fire’s dancing shadows and watched the flames flickering up the chimney. Scented candles cast a gentle glow around the room. Enya, soft and soothing, sang in the
background. Peace enveloped her. How lucky she was. When this baby was born her life would be perfect. She’d have everything she’d ever wanted. Was it possible to experience perfect
happiness? Right now Devlin knew she’d never been as happy in all her life. She was so happy she was almost afraid. The griefs and sorrows of her past were a constant reminder that what was
given could also be taken away.

Don’t think like that
, she chided herself silently. Live in the now, wasn’t that what it was all about? One of the beauty therapists at City Girl, who specialized in
aromatherapy and reflexology, had a little poster in her room that always comforted Devlin.

‘Enjoy today and be at peace,’ she whispered to herself as she rubbed her hand gently over her tummy, longing for the moment when she would feel the first faint flutterings of
life.

CAROLINE

It would probably be one of the last public functions they would appear at together, Caroline reflected somewhat sadly as she lightly tipped a mascara brush to her eyelashes.
She’d be giving up her envied status as wife to one of Dublin’s most successful lawyers.

Big brown eyes stared back at her from the mirror. She could see the fear in them. Divorce was very final. She was, as she had always feared, going to be on her own. It wasn’t as if
Richard was even going to be living in Dublin. He was moving to Boston, bag and baggage.

Even though in the last few years they’d lived together in the apartment like flatmates, not husband and wife, she’d miss the companionship. She’d miss knowing there was
someone to come home to.

Caroline squeezed a little gel onto her fingers and ran them through her short inky-black hair. How ironic to think that she had a better marriage now than she’d had all those years ago
when Richard had battered her black and blue, and made her feel completely worthless and utterly unattractive. It was only when she’d found out that he was gay, and she had dragged herself up
from the pits of alcoholism, that they had become friends. Those years had been a nightmare she thought she’d never survive. But she had. She’d grown strong and more self-reliant

Why, then, did the knowledge that he was going cause those feared, fluttery panicky little butterflies to dance tangos in her stomach? Would that fear ever leave her? The fear of aloneness. Why
was she so terrified that she couldn’t hack it? She’d gone off to Abu Dhabi on her own to work for six months. She’d lived in an apartment on her own for another four until
Richard had begged her to come back home, because he was so lonely after his mentor and lover Charles Stokes had died.

Soft-hearted as always, Caroline had done as he’d asked. And they’d lived together since then. It had been a mistake, she reflected ruefully as she sprayed White Linen on her neck
and wrists. She’d got used to being with someone once more. She was going to have to face being alone, yet again. It was a daunting prospect. Life alone didn’t seem so bad in your
twenties. In your mid-thirties it was little short of scary.

‘Caro, will you fix this damned dickey bow for me.’ Richard knocked perfunctorily on her bedroom door and strode in, the offending article dangling from his fingers.

‘You’d think one of the hundred most influential men in Ireland would surely be able to tie his own bow-tie,’ Caroline said dryly. Her husband had made the much coveted placing
in
Icon,
Ireland’s glossiest of glossy, trendiest of trendy, monthly magazine. A cocktail party was being held in the Clarence in celebration and already there was fierce controversy
– among those who took such things seriously – about the inclusions and exclusions. Subscriptions to
Icon
had already suffered a loss from very miffed personages who had
expected to feature and hadn’t. Outraged wives and mistresses had gone batting for excluded spouses and lovers. The feathers were flying among the jet set of the city.

Richard was very pleased at his inclusion. He’d never lost his vanity in such matters. What would everyone think when he put his hugely successful practice on the market? The gossips would
have a field day, especially when news of the divorce leaked out. Caroline dreaded it. It had been bad enough when they’d separated the first time. The social columnists had had a ball. She
deftly arranged the black silky material into a perfectly shaped bow at Richard’s throat. ‘There. It’s fine.’

‘You know we don’t have to get a divorce if you don’t want to, Caroline.’ Richard took her hand. ‘We can just say we’re separating. I won’t be getting
married again,’ he added with a wry smile.

‘I can’t be tied to your apron strings for ever, Richard. It’s better this way. We can both make a fresh start. It’s something I really want to do.’

‘Has it been so awful?’ he asked a little defensively.

‘It’s not ideal, Richard. It’s not a real life. You’ll have your life in Boston. I’ll have my life here and at least we’ll always be friends. Now let’s
put our best foot forward and get on with it.’

‘If you say so.’ Richard sighed.

‘I do,’ Caroline said, very firmly.

He held her coat for her and they walked out of the apartment in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

MAGGIE

Maggie Ryan cursed long and loudly as the pot of mushy peas boiled over on the hob. Pressing the save key, she jumped up from her laptop and hurried over to wipe up the
offensive green frothy mess.

‘Blast Terry and his mushy peas,’ she muttered crossly as she burned the tip of her finger.

The phone rang. In the background she could hear the children squabbling upstairs. Her head was beginning to pound.

‘Hello?’ Her tone held a trace of impatience.

Her mother’s agitated voice came down the line. ‘Maggie, do you think you could come tomorrow? The parish harvest fête is on and your father’s got gout. I need someone to
give him his dinner and tea because I’ll be gone all day.’

Maggie’s jaw dropped. Go to Wicklow for the day? She’d planned to finish chapter ten tomorrow, and besides, the children had swimming in the morning.

‘It’s not really very convenient, Mam. Couldn’t you make any other arrangements?’ she asked, trying to hide her irritation.

‘Don’t you think I would have, if I could. And then I wouldn’t have had to
bother
you,’ her mother snapped.

Oh no, don’t let her get into a huff.
Maggie gave a silent groan. Nelsie’s huffs were legendary.

‘I should have known, of course. You’re always up to your eyes these days now that you’re a
famous author
.’ The last was said with dripping sarcasm. ‘But I
thought you might be able to oblige me. It’s not much I ask of you, God knows.’ Nelsie gave a martyred sniff.

Maggie’s fingers curled in her palms. Were all mothers like this or just hers?

‘Well if you can’t come down I’ll just have to miss the fête and that’s the end of it. I’ll go, Maggie, and not take up any more of your time.’

‘Hold on, Mother,’ Maggie ordered. ‘Look, I’ll give Terry a ring just to make sure he’s got nothing on tomorrow, and I’ll phone you back and make the
arrangements.’

‘Sure what would he be doing tomorrow, it’s Saturday? Call me as soon as you can – I need to let Brona Kelly know what time I can do a stall at. Oh and if you’re coming
down would you be able to get me a couple of those sponges out of the bakery in Superquinn. They’re very tasty and I could bring them with me for our cup of tea. Thanks, Maggie. I have to go.
I see Mrs Keegan coming up the drive. Bye bye.’

Maggie heard the click of the receiver and shook her head as she stared at the phone. Her mother was really something else. The thoughts of going to Superquinn again when she’d only done a
big shop there this morning made her want to scream. Superquinn on Friday night was not for the faint-hearted.

Maggie knew full well why her mother wanted Superquinn sponges. They were so tasty, she was going to pass them off as her own. She’d been doing it for years. Every time she came to visit
Maggie or Maggie went to visit her, Nelsie always made sure to get a couple of sponges. There was no Superquinn in Wicklow so the Ladies’ Club never knew the difference. And all were agreed
that Nelsie McNamara had a very light touch with the sponges, even though she didn’t make them that often.