City Lives (6 page)

Back and forth went the internal dialogue. But the push in him was strong. It was time to change his life and Richard knew it. If he didn’t do it now he never would. It was all a question
of guts. Did he have the guts to do it?

He’d come home and tentatively told Caroline. She had been taken aback at first. She couldn’t believe that he’d consider selling the firm and emigrating. It was such a radical
step for him. But she’d encouraged him to go for it and had agreed that divorce was their most realistic option. They had talked about divorce before but had always put it on the long finger.
Now that the reality was looming both of them were apprehensive.

As he lay in the dark, alone and unable to sleep, Richard conceded that it was more than apprehension he was feeling. It was almost terror. Now that he was putting his law practice on the market
he would be taking a leap into the unknown. He’d never done that before. He’d always known from day to day, hour to hour exactly what he was doing. And on top of all that he had to
break the news to his mother.

Richard groaned. It wasn’t too late. He could still change his mind. But if he did, he’d never be able to look himself in the eye again without seeing the coward he knew was
there.

At ten thirty the following morning it was a weary Richard who stood outside his mother’s big redbrick Clontarf home and felt like a guilty seven-year-old. His palms were sweaty as he took
a deep breath and put his key in the lock.

‘Good heavens, Richard! You’re very early. I’m just arranging my flowers. I went out in the garden to cut some roses and the state of it! Leaves everywhere. I shall be having a
word with Nolan when he comes,’ Sarah Yates grumbled as she took a spray of greenery from her basket and arranged it artistically in a vase of peach roses.

‘But Mother, it
is
autumn,’ Richard pointed out, feeling sorry for poor old Mick Nolan, who’d been doing Sarah’s garden for donkey’s years and who was
stiff and arthritic and long past it.

‘That’s no excuse.’ Sarah sniffed. ‘Come into the parlour. Shall I tell Mrs Gleeson to bring you tea?’

‘No, no, thank you, Mother. I’m fine,’ Richard assured her. ‘I . . . ah . . . well . . . that is—’

‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Richard! Spit it out. You’re always the same when you’ve got something to tell me. And don’t tell me you haven’t. You wouldn’t be
here at this hour of a Saturday morning otherwise.’ Sarah sat back in her hard wing-backed armchair and clasped her hands together.

Richard looked at his mother. Ramrod straight. She might be seventy but she was as fit and sprightly as she’d been twenty years ago. Rake-thin and small-boned, she looked as if a puff of
smoke would knock her over. But Sarah Yates was as tough as old boots despite her delicate air and ladylike ways. Bright blue eyes lasered in on him.

‘Well?’

Richard’s heart galloped. ‘I’m putting the practice on the market. I’m emigrating.’ The words came out faster than he meant them to. He decided he’d leave
news of the divorce until last.

Sarah’s eyes registered shock but her gaze never flinched. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Richard.’ Her tone was sharp. ‘Sell up, and you one of the most successful lawyers
in the country! I never heard such nonsense.’

‘Nonsense or not, Mother. I’m going. I’ve had enough here. I’m going to Boston,’ Richard said steadily.

‘And whose idea is this? The drunk’s?’ Sarah’s nostrils flared disdainfully.

‘Mother!’ Richard jumped to his feet. ‘That’s very unfair. Caroline hasn’t had a drink in years and you know it.’

‘Huh! The woman’s unstable, Richard. And always has been. Remember our Christmas shopping trip to London. She got so drunk she couldn’t get out of bed the next day. I’ll
never forget it. And why else would she go off to the back of beyond – which isn’t even a Christian country - for six months and then go and live in a flat on her own until you took her
back out of the goodness of your heart. I bet she’s behind this notion. The day you married her was a sorry day indeed. You married beneath you.’ Sarah twisted and untwisted her fingers
in her lap. She was getting more agitated by the minute.

‘That’s enough, Mother!’ Richard said heatedly. ‘And anyway you won’t ever have to have anything to do with her again. We’re getting a divorce.’ There!
It was said. Out in the open.

Sarah’s jaw dropped and the pale tight parchment skin of her cheeks flushed bright red.

‘
Divorced
!! Under no circumstances. I’ll not permit it, Richard. Do you hear me? You will not disgrace the family name with a divorce. I’ll cut you out of the will
again. You’ll be excommunicated. I’ve never heard such . . . such sacrilege.’ Sarah was livid.

‘Mother, I’ve all the money I need. I don’t need yours. And as for being excommunicated, I don’t believe in any of that bullshit. I don’t even go to Mass any more.
I don’t know if I even believe in God any more,’ he retorted defiantly. Now that he’d told her his plans, it was as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders.

The sharp stinging slap of her hand on his jaw shocked him.

‘How dare you! How dare a son of mine use such language to me and dare to deny the existence of God. How dare you come into this house in a state of mortal sin,’ Sarah raged.

Richard rubbed his jaw. He had a crazy, reckless urge to laugh. She was so angry she looked as if she might drop dead of a seizure.

What a relief that would be. The greatest favour she could ever do him.
The thought came unbidden.

‘You’d better come and talk to Father Redmond.’ Sarah paced backwards and forwards. ‘It must be living with that . . . with . . .
her
. . . that’s caused
you to become like this. Father Redmond will put you on the straight and narrow. It’s just a phase you’re going through.’

‘Mother, for God’s sake! A phase is what teenagers go through. I’m in my thirties, for crying out loud.’ Richard was so exasperated he wanted to shake Sarah.
‘I’m saying it once more. I’m selling up and emigrating. And Caroline and I are divorcing.’ He glared at his mother.

‘After all I did for you? I reared you single-handedly. I sent you to college. I gave you the money to set you up. You’re an ingrate, Richard. A selfish uncaring son, ready to drag
our good name through the gutter. What will the relations think? What will the neighbours say? What will all your father’s respected friends think? And how will I manage when you’ve . .
.
emigrated
? I’m an elderly woman . . . alone.’ Sarah was incandescent.

Something snapped in Richard. For years she’d made him feel guilty, throwing it up in his face that she’d reared him on her own. She was a wealthy woman. Her husband had left her
well provided for. And the money for setting him up in a practice had come from his own inheritance, something his mother always conveniently forgot. All his life he’d had to put up with her
emotional blackmail. No more!

He walked over to the door, turned and stared coldly at his mother.

‘You can keep your money. I don’t need it. And as for what you’re going to do when I’m gone, I don’t give a tuppenny damn.’

‘Where are you going? Come back here. I’m not finished with you yet, Richard. Don’t you dare walk out on me.’

‘I’m going into town to buy myself another suitcase. I’ll need it for all I’m bringing with me to America. Because I won’t be coming back!’

He slammed the door so hard Sarah’s collection of Aynsley fine bone china rattled from the vibration.

Richard walked out of his mother’s house and felt exuberant. The worm had turned. He felt strong. He’d faced down his mother for the first time in his life. He hadn’t had to
bite back the words and suffer agonies of resentment and frustration. He’d said what he wanted to say. It was better than winning his first case. He wasn’t her pawn any more. He
wasn’t tied to her apron strings. He was separate. Free. Her equal. She had no power over him. The feeling was indescribable. It was the best day of his life.

‘My God. My God. My Lord and my God help me in my hour of need,’ Sarah prayed fervently, her fingers trembling as she pressed them to her lips.

This was a nightmare. What had become of her well-mannered, cultured, obedient son? It was
her
! Sarah knew it. That daughter-in-law was a curse on the Yates family. She had done this to
Richard.

Sarah sat bolt upright. She was going to see Madame Caroline. By the time she was finished with her, she’d be a very sorry young woman. And over Sarah’s dead body would Richard sell
his firm and emigrate to America.

‘Mrs Gleeson?’ Sarah tried to keep the tremor out of her voice as she called to her housekeeper, who was upstairs. So Richard was going into town. That meant that
Madame Caroline would be at home alone. That was if she wasn’t out gadding somewhere. Or
drinking
! Sarah’s nostrils flared.

‘Yes Mrs Yates?’ Hannah Gleeson bustled into the room with a bottle of Pledge in one hand and a duster in the other.

‘I need you to drive me somewhere. Leave that and get your coat,’ Sarah ordered imperiously.

‘Oh now, Mrs Yates, I’ll be leaving at one sharp, today. You know I always have to leave on time on Saturdays. I go to my daughter’s for lunch and—’

‘Yes, yes, I know all that,’ Sarah snapped. ‘I’m not going far, just down to my son’s penthouse on the sea front. We’ll be back within the hour or
sooner.’

‘Very well, ma’am,’ Mrs Gleeson muttered with bad grace. She had planned to get the upstairs rooms polished this morning. She didn’t like it when her routine was upset.
Especially her Saturday morning routine.

Sarah dismissed her with a bossy wave and hurried upstairs to prepare herself for the meeting with her daughter-in-law. That girl was as common as muck and always had been. Sarah had known from
the start that she wasn’t right for Richard. He’d needed someone from his own social milieu. Someone who could hold her own in company. Someone who could command respect in society. He
could have had the cream of the crop. Mothers had done novenas that her Richard might marry their daughters. Sarah could think of half a dozen perfectly suitable young women who’d all wanted
to marry him. Barristers’ daughters. Bankers’ daughters. Consultants’ daughters. But no, he’d chosen that little gold-digger from Marino. Her father was a maths teacher. He
knew his sums all right, Sarah thought sourly. He could see dollar signs as far as Richard was concerned. Sarah was no fool. She knew.

She’d warned Richard. But would he listen?

Well, he was sorry now that he hadn’t taken his mother’s advice. All this nonsense about being a homosexual was just that . . .
nonsense
. If he had a proper wife
there’d be none of that. How could he want to have marital relations with a woman who was a hardened drinker? It was quite understandable that he’d be repulsed. A drunken woman was a
deeply revolting sight. Sarah gave a little shudder. And even if she’d stopped drinking as she’d claimed to, the damage was done.

But it was too late to be crying over spilt milk. He’d made his bed and he could lie on it. They’d have to get on with it. That was the trouble with young people today. They gave up
far too easily. This divorce business was all
her
idea. Sarah knew it. Whatever hold she had over Richard, he jumped to her every whim. Well, this was one whim where Caroline Yates was not
getting her own way, Sarah decided as she dabbed Max Factor’s
Twilight Glow
over her reddened cheeks.

Caroline had a hold over Richard all right. And Sarah was going to use that to her own advantage. She snapped shut her compact, dabbed some
L’Air du Temps
on her wrists, traced
some Coral Rose across her thin lips, ran her mother-of-pearl-handled comb through her fine white hair and nodded at her reflection in the mirror. She was a lady to her fingertips. Something Madame
Caroline would never be. Today was a day for her fur, she decided. There was nothing as intimidating as fur to little hussies who came from nowhere and thought they were someone.

‘Mrs Gleeson?’ she called. ‘Get my fur and my Chanel handbag, quickly if you please. I’m ready to leave.’

‘
Oh are ye, yer ladyship, yer Royal Highness,
’ the housekeeper muttered
sotto voce
down in the kitchen as she shook a fist skywards and made a face. It would be a
happy day when she could tell the old bat to stuff her job but the money was good, higher than the odds, probably because Sarah Yates was such a briar to work for. Hannah shook her head
sorrowfully. Her daughter’s husband had left her with a small baby, to shack up with a slag with margarine legs and Hannah needed all the money she could get right now to help out. But the
day would come and she’d let rip on Sarah Yates before she went.

‘Coming, Mrs Yates,’ she said in her best-butter-wouldn’t-melt voice as she hurried to do as she was bid.

‘I’d love a girls’ night, Devlin. I’ve loads to tell you. If you’re off to Galway on Monday I won’t see much of you at work, so tomorrow
night’s fine. Is it OK for Maggie?’ Caroline doodled on a pad as she spoke to her best friend.

‘I’m trying to get her. The answering machine’s on at home and I keep getting divert on her mobile. Anyway even if she can’t come, you come and we’ll have a good
natter. Luke’s flying to London tomorrow evening because he’s got to be in Brighton early on Monday so he won’t be able to slag us about our gossiping.’ Devlin laughed.

Caroline smiled. Luke was always teasing them about their capacity for gossip. He was so different from Richard. So secure in himself. So loving to Devlin. Would she ever find a man like that? A
man who would love her completely. Depression hovered. ‘Well, I have some news for you that will give the gossips a field day,’ she said, keeping her tone light.

‘Oohh . . . don’t keep me waiting. Tell me,’ Devlin reproached.

‘It will keep. See you tomorrow then.’

‘That’s cruelty. I’ll see you around seven. Bye Caroline,’ Devlin hung up.

Caroline replaced the phone gently in the cradle. Devlin sounded so bubbly and happy. She envied her deeply. Not in a nasty way. She loved Devlin. It was just that her friend’s happiness
and joy in her marriage showed such a lack in her own life. She’d married Richard so she wouldn’t be left on the shelf. She’d made do. And it had been a disaster. Since
she’d come home from Abu Dhabi she’d made do again. Settling for safety and security and half a life. Well, she was sick of it. Sick of being a coward. Sick of being alone. Sick of no
sex life, sick of knowing that she was in her mid-thirties and childless.