City Lives (3 page)

Maggie dialled her husband’s mobile. It was handier than ringing the office and being put through by his secretary. Maybe going to Wicklow wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Thinking about
it, if she brought her laptop with her she could get some work done in peace and quiet. The trip to Wicklow might turn out to be a blessing in disguise after all. The traffic shouldn’t be too
bad, she’d be there in little over an hour. She could spend four or five hours writing with no children demanding attention. Her father would be content to watch sport on TV.

‘Where are you?’ she muttered. The phone was ringing away. It would go into divert soon.

‘Yep?’ Terry sounded crusty.

‘Hi, it’s me. I’ve just had a call from Ma. She needs me to go down to Wicklow tomorrow. Dad’s sick and she has to go to the harvest fête. Can you bring the kids
swimming in the morning? I’ll cook a lasagne tonight so that all you’ll have to do then is pop it in the microwave tomorrow.’

‘Maggie, I’ve arranged to play golf with John Dolan, he’s a big client. It’s important. And I’ll be taking him to lunch. You’ll have to bring the kids with
you.’

‘This is the third Saturday in a row that you’ve been out playing golf all day. It’s not fair, Terry. I’m trying to get a novel written. I have the kids all week and the
least you could do is be here at the weekends,’ Maggie protested. If she had to bring her three children to Wicklow with her she’d get nothing done. And she’d be delayed leaving.
That would mean Nelsie would have to wait in for her.

‘Do you think I enjoy going around a golf course listening to John Dolan wittering in my ear?’ Terry asked irascibly. ‘It’s not a day out for me, Maggie. It’s
work.’

Maggie had heard that one before.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ she snapped. ‘I’ll see you later. Bye.’ She slammed the phone down. Typical of Terry. She should have known better. How she wished they’d never
got back together again after his affair with Ria Kirby. Her husband was a constant source of disappointment to her.

They’d reunited for the sake of the children and initially he’d made an effort, but gradually he’d slipped back into his old selfish ways and Maggie had lost heart.

Was it so much to ask? A bit of support. A sharing of the domestic workload. Taking responsibility for being a parent. Why was it all left to her? Why did Terry not see her as an equal? Why was
his career and his well-being more important than hers? Why could he not be more like Luke Reilly?

Maggie sighed. A deep, depressed, weary sigh that came from her core. Watching Devlin and Luke together was a constant reminder of how lacking her own marriage was. She knew she shouldn’t
be comparing. Luke and Devlin were still in the early years of their marriage, but from the start of her own she’d always had to suffer Terry putting himself first. Luke always put Devlin
first. He treated her as an equal. She was his business partner, not his housekeeper. Maggie felt a surge of anger. That’s all she was to Terry when it boiled right down to it.

She was sick of it, heartily sick of it, but what could she do? The children came first. That’s what being a parent was all about, wasn’t it?

She slumped down onto the chair at the kitchen table. She’d ring her mother in a little while. She wanted to finish the page she’d been working on. The cursor blinked, awaiting her
attention. Maggie ran her eye over what she’d just written. Her new novel was called
Betrayal
. It was written from the heart and from bitter personal experience. It was her third
book and she knew without question that it was her best.

The phone shrilled again.

‘Oh for God’s sake!!!’ she exclaimed.

‘Hello?’ This time she knew she sounded downright ratty. She didn’t care. She was half expecting it to be her mother. Checking.

‘Maggie, sorry for disturbing you.’ Marcy Elliot’s crisp tone at the other end of the phone came as a surprise. It was almost five p.m. Why was her editor phoning her so late
on a Friday evening?

‘Hi, Marcy. What’s up? You sound as harassed as I feel.’

‘Maggie, you should know that I’m leaving Enterprise Publishing. I’ve handed in my notice, but I’ll be around to tie up loose ends for a week or two. I wanted to tell you
myself. I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else. I’m up to my eyes. I can’t talk to you now. I’ll phone early on Monday to arrange a meeting.’

‘But Marcy, what’s happened? Why?’ Maggie asked aghast.

‘Look Maggie, I really can’t talk. I’ve a few other authors to call. I promise I’ll ring first thing on Monday. We’ll talk then. Bye.’

Maggie stood rooted to the spot and stared at the phone in disbelief. Was she dreaming? Had her editor – one of the most highly regarded in the publishing trade – just told her that
she was leaving? It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be true. How would she ever write a book without her? Marcy was her guide, her mentor, her teacher. Had she been head-hunted? That
wouldn’t be surprising. She was the best. But Maggie had never for a minute considered that Marcy would leave Enterprise. She was a director, a shareholder. She had enormous clout.

Maggie felt a vague stirring of apprehension. Things didn’t sound too good. Typical of her luck. Just when she needed all the support she could get.

‘Have you booked my flight to Galway on Monday, Liz?’ Devlin asked her PA as she breezed into her office as happy as a lark.

The stylish young woman seated at her computer leaned back in her chair and stretched.

‘I have. You’re on the late afternoon flight. There’s no early morning flight unfortunately so you can’t do it all in the one day, so I’ve booked you into the Great
Southern Hotel for the night. A car will meet you at the airport to bring you there, collect you in the morning and drop you down to City Girl. I’ve booked you on the last flight home the
following afternoon. The meetings have been arranged to suit your flight schedule.’

‘Great, Liz. Anything I should know about?’

‘Not much going on here. We’ve got a party of twenty coming for the All Day Make-over next Thursday. It’s a corporate thing. That side of business has really taken off,’
Liz remarked.

‘I wish we had rooms for residential nights in Dublin. I’m really looking forward to seeing how it takes off in Galway.’ Devlin flicked through the itinerary for her Galway
visit. It was crammed. Architects, builders, landscape gardeners. All with plans for phase two of the Galway City Girl.

Liz pressed a button on her computer. ‘I’m just sending a copy of your itinerary to Anne in Galway. She’ll have everything organized for you. It will be a whole new ball game,
Devlin. The first City Girl health farm.’

‘I know. I can’t wait. What a stroke of luck that we got the site next door. Sites are like gold-dust in that part of Galway. There’s apartments going up everywhere. We had to
pay through the nose, of course. Luke did a bit of humming and hawing.’ Devlin smiled. ‘But then he had to admit that Galway was doing so well, expansion on that scale was
justified.’

‘Just as well you’ve a new accountant on board, too. Poor old Scrooge would never have been able to cope with the amount you’re spending,’ Liz laughed, referring to their
former accountant who had left to go to a less stressful position in a knitwear factory.

‘Don’t be nasty,’ Devlin admonished with a grin. ‘Dealing with my accounts takes a real man. Wimps are out. Fortunately Andrew seems to have a bit of get up and go in
him. Hopefully he can see the bigger picture.’

‘Just as well,’ murmured Liz wickedly.

Devlin laughed as she strode into her elegant office. She’d had it redecorated recently and she loved its warm tones of honey gold and pale blue. Lightly patterned cream and blue curtains
drew the eye to the long sash windows. The pattern, taken up in the luxurious sofa and chairs, gave the impression of an informal sitting-room. Devlin much preferred informality. And as relaxation
was what City Girl was all about, she felt strongly that business meetings should be held in a relaxed environment. Vases of fresh flowers, soft pastel silk paintings, and scented candles added to
the calming atmosphere.

She pressed a button on a panel on her desk and tranquil and soothing strains of piano and strings filled the room as Philip Chapman’s
Keeper of Dreams
played softly on her
CD.

Devlin sat in her cream leather chair and swivelled until she was facing the long narrow windows that faced out onto St Stephen’s Green. An autumnal squall hurled droplets of rain against
the windowpanes and the red-gold leaves of the great oak trees swept in great flurries along the green railings.

Devlin loved looking out on St Stephen’s Green. She enjoyed watching the hustle and bustle of city life beneath her windows. She saw a black, sleek, stretch limo draw up outside the
Shelbourne and watched a woman wearing huge dark glasses emerge and hurry inside its portals. Whoever it was would probably grace City Girl with her presence. They’d had many movers and
shakers since opening several years ago.

Devlin still found it hard to credit how her idea of placing the most up-market and classy health and leisure centre right in the heart of the city had taken off so successfully. Belfast had
worked even better than they’d hoped and there was a waiting list as long as your arm for membership. And now Galway’s expansion was a whole new challenge. Devlin loved a challenge. She
was fiercely proud of City Girl. If she hadn’t had it to drive and push her after Lynn’s death she would have sunk into a pit of darkness and depression and might never have
emerged.

Her hand dropped to her stomach. Another baby snuggled in her womb now. Luke’s baby. This pregnancy was going to be so different . . . so joyful for both of them. Having a partner made an
immense difference. No fears about coping, no worries about providing. No great big cloud of worry wrapped around her. She was going to enjoy every second of this pregnancy, Devlin promised
herself.

Her hand hovered over the phone. She was dying to tell Caroline and Maggie. They’d be immensely delighted for her. The thought warmed her. They’d shared so much down the years. It
was going to be great to give them this wonderful piece of news. But it wasn’t the same telling them over the phone. She wanted to see the look on their faces and hear the shrieks of delight
and have the daylights hugged out of her. Reluctantly she dropped her hand.

But she was dying to tell someone. Devlin tapped her fingers in a drumbeat on the desk. She knew she should tell her mother and father. But memories of the day Lydia Delaney had discovered that
her daughter was pregnant outside of marriage still haunted her. That was the day she’d discovered that she was adopted, and Lydia was in fact her aunt. They’d been estranged for years
after that. They’d made their peace, thankfully, and had become friends as Lydia had battled alcoholism and won. But still, even now the thought of telling her mother that she was pregnant
made her stomach lurch. It was crazy, she knew that, but the residue of that traumatic time still lingered in her psyche and today wasn’t the day for informing her mother she was going to be
a grandmother for the second time.

Devlin sighed. She’d wait another while before giving her parents the news. It would have to be a phone call. Lydia and Gerry Delaney were in Brussels for a year. Her father’s
promotion in the bank had been on the cards. He was one of their most senior and experienced managers. Now he was part of the team co-ordinating their organization’s strategy for the Euro
currency. It had necessitated a move to Belgium for at least a year. Her parents were hugely enjoying living abroad.

Devlin and Luke had been to visit them just weeks ago and it did her heart good to see how much they were enjoying the experience. All the years of worry Gerry had endured because of
Lydia’s drinking had gone, and her beloved father looked twenty years younger. Lydia too had a serenity about her that was so different from the brittle, agitated air she always used to have.
To see them enjoying life and each other was a great comfort to Devlin, who’d worried herself sick over them when things were at their worst.

Sometimes she resented Lydia for robbing her of her childhood and teenage years and making her grow up before she was ready. Shouldering the burden of an alcoholic parent had left its scars,
Devlin reflected. Only the children of alcoholics could understand that gut-wrenching, stomach-knotting fear, dread and apprehension that was part and parcel of her daily life. Always waiting . . .
always hoping that this time would be the last . . . always wishing for normality like the rest of her friends enjoyed.

Her child would never know those fears . . . ever . . . she vowed. ‘Thank you, God for Luke.’ She murmured the heartfelt prayer as she often did, knowing how lucky she was. Of the
three of them, Caroline, Maggie and herself, Devlin knew that in Luke she had a diamond compared to her friends’ spouses. Richard had beaten Caroline black and blue in their marriage before
she’d found out he was gay. And Terry . . . Devlin frowned. Terry, who’d fooled them all with his boyish charm and devil-may-care ways. Terry in his true colours was every woman’s
nightmare and Maggie’s in particular. Selfish, immature, lying, irresponsible, a womanizer. It was difficult sometimes to keep her mouth shut when she saw how unsupportive he was of her
friend. Didn’t he realize how lucky he was to have a wife like Maggie?
And
three beautiful children. He was always bragging about how he’d filled a pram three times. Devlin
felt like crowning him. Helping with homework, making time to play, being there for birthday parties were not high on Terry’s agenda any more. That was all left to Maggie. Terry might be the
children’s biological father, but a father in any other sense he was not these days. Ever since Maggie’d had her first book published Terry had withdrawn his support. It was almost as
though he was jealous of her, Devlin thought grimly. She was worried about Maggie and the stress she was under these days.

A girls’ night out was definitely on the cards. She’d ring Maggie and Caroline over the weekend and arrange it. Caroline was her very able administrator and Human Resources manager
and normally Devlin would see her every day, but she was on a few days’ leave and wasn’t due back in work until Monday. They all hadn’t had a good long natter in ages. And
she’d be able to tell them her news. Devlin’s eyes sparkled. Instead of dressing up and going out, she’d have them over to the apartment for a cosy night in. It would be like old
times. And they’d have loads of news to catch up on, they always had.