City Woman (47 page)

‘It’s his pride, you see,’ Maggie fumed. ‘I was
his
woman and another man has had what he considers to be exclusively his. That’s what annoys me about it.
He’s not devastated because I found the emotional support I needed from another man; he’s just upset because I
slept
with another man. They take sex so bloody seriously. Terry
thinks I did it to get my own back on him.’ She sighed.

‘And didn’t you – a little bit?’ Devlin probed gently.

‘No, I didn’t,’ Maggie said indignantly.

‘Just a teeny bit?’ Devlin arched a quizzical eyebrow.

‘Whose side are you on?’ Maggie snapped.

‘I’m sorry that two people I care for are so utterly miserable,’ Devlin retorted. ‘I’m not taking anybody’s side, but if you’d stop being so
self-righteous you’d see that there are faults on both sides.’

Maggie was shocked at Devlin’s straight talking.

‘I think you’re being a bit hard on Maggie, Dev,’ Caroline interjected.

‘Well, you must have known how Terry’d react if he found out – and he was bound to find out some time or other,’ Devlin pointed out.

‘He had an affair first!’ Maggie argued vehemently.

‘Well, two wrongs don’t make a right,’ Devlin said calmly, ‘and by that statement, you’ve more or less admitted that because he had an affair first, you felt that
it was perfectly all right for you to go ahead and have one to make things even.’

Maggie leaned across the table and glared at her friend. ‘What would you do if you found out that Luke was having an affair?’

Devlin was taken aback.

‘Well?’ demanded Maggie, annoyed at her friend’s sanctimonious attitude. She had come to lunch looking for sympathy and succour; she hadn’t expected a lecture.

‘I’d probably never speak to him again,’ Devlin said.

‘Well, that’s what I felt like when Terry had his affair, but I
did
speak to him and I tried to put it behind me. I even let him back in my bed and he took it all for
granted. Took it as his due, even. So yes, maybe you’re right, Devlin; maybe there was an element of getting my own back with Adam, but I’d never ever have considered an affair if Terry
had been faithful to me!’ Maggie burst into tears.

‘I’m sorry, Maggie. Don’t cry.’ Devlin was genuinely contrite. ‘What’s the old saying about not judging a person until you’ve stood in their shoes?
I’ve no business pontificating.’

Maggie wiped her eyes. ‘I’m always pontificating to you, aren’t I?’ she said wryly to Devlin. ‘You’re entitled to do it. If we’ve something to say to
one another, we’ve always said it out straight. That’s one of the reasons the three of us have stayed friends.’

‘What do you think is going to happen, Maggie?’ Caroline asked. ‘Are you going to leave Terry? Are you going to stay with Adam?’

Maggie pushed her plate away; she had no appetite. She had asked herself the same question over and over. Some days she was certain that she was going to leave her husband and bring the children
with her to Adam’s. There were other days when she was going to tell Terry to sell the house and make up her mind to live in Wicklow, just herself and the children. Most of the time she felt
trapped. How could she uproot the children from their home, their playschool, their friends? They loved their father and he loved them. It wouldn’t be fair on them. What was fair? What was
right?

‘Caroline, to tell you the God’s honest truth, I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do,’ she said wearily.

‘This is really good. It’s even better than
City Woman
.’ Marcy pointed to the sheaf of pages in front of her. ‘It’s as if she’s
writing from a deeply personal point of view. There’s great empathy there. The readers are going to love this one.’

‘Great,’ Sandra said with satisfaction. ‘I’ll take a copy of it and read it myself. I love the title . . .
A Time to Decide
. It’s very snappy, very
intriguing. I can’t wait to start selling it in.’

‘With the way Maggie’s writing we’ll have a third book way ahead of schedule. It’s really flowing out of her. She’s writing like a fury. Have you spoken to her
lately?’

Sandra shook her head. ‘Not since we took her to lunch before Christmas. I suppose I should telephone and see how she’s getting on. It’s just that I don’t need to get
anything organized with her for a few months yet and I wouldn’t like her to think I was hassling her. That’s
your
job,’ the sales and marketing manager said, grinning.
‘It has been ages though, so maybe I’ll give her a call. She likes to hear the publishing news. That’s what I like about Maggie; she’s interested in it all. Not just what
pertains to herself and her own books.’ She threw a questioning look at Marcy. ‘Was there any particular reason you asked me if I’d phoned Maggie?’

‘No,’ Marcy said slowly. ‘I was just wondering if you’d been in touch.’

‘Is anything wrong with her?’ Sandra asked in concern.

Marcy frowned. ‘I don’t know. You know Maggie; she’s usually a very
up
kind of person. Lately, I feel she’s under some kind of pressure. She hasn’t said
anything but she’s not herself.’

‘But she’s writing?’

‘Terrifically well,’ Marcy reiterated.

Sandra took the thick wad of pages from the editor’s desk. ‘I’ll have this photocopied for myself. I’m looking forward to reading it now. If
A Time to Decide
is
as good as you say, then whatever pressure Maggie’s under is obviously good for her writing. So let’s hope it lasts,’ she remarked cheerfully.

‘Can I have popcorn, Mammy?’

‘Where are your manners, Michael?’ Maggie reminded her son.

‘Sorry, can I have popcorn
pleassse
?’ He put an extra-special emphasis on the please and Maggie hid a smile.

‘Can I have Coke please, Mammy?’ Mimi made sure to have her manners.

‘We’ll all have some.’ Maggie cuddled Shona to her and was rewarded by a sloppy kiss. ‘Right, let’s go,’ she ordered. After her lunch with the girls, she had
decided to bring the children to the pictures as a treat. The atmosphere at home had been horrible for the previous few weeks and she was sure they could sense it. Children were very intuitive like
that. Mimi had even asked why Maggie was sleeping in the guest-room and not in her own bed and Maggie had explained that she was writing a new book and she had moved into the other bedroom so she
could type at night and not keep Daddy awake. To her relief, her daughter seemed to accept her explanation, and sometimes before she went to bed at night, Maggie let her type some letters on the
screen of her word processor, which now reposed on the bedside locker in the spare room.

She hadn’t actually lied when she’d said she was writing, because her writing was the only thing that gave her any comfort at the moment. Immersing herself in her characters’
lives released her briefly from the unhappiness of her own. Often she went to bed at nine so as not to have to sit in the sitting-room with Terry in that simmering cauldron of silence that often
erupted into harsh words, accusations and recriminations.

She wrote until the early hours of the morning, spurred on by her anger, her resentment and her fear. Because she
was
fearful about her future. She knew things couldn’t go on like
this for ever and if she did leave Terry or he left her she wanted financial independence. Terry would maintain the children – she had no fears for them – but she didn’t want to
be beholden to him in any way, and if her writing career took off at least she’d have some money of her own.

Adam was urging her to come and live with him, but in her heart and soul Maggie didn’t think it would work out. Adam, her dreamer, had such unrealistic notions. Adam couldn’t cope
with three lively children running around demanding to be fed and entertained, no matter how much he protested that he could. Adam was a bit of a loner – that was why having an affair suited
him. Maggie could recognize that. Of anyone she had ever known, he was the most self-sufficient person in terms of not needing other people’s company. Adam was quite happy to write, play with
his computer, and see her whenever she could get time to be with him. If he had to put up with the wear and tear of family life, she wasn’t sure if their idyll would stand the strain. Their
love affair was not based on reality. It was a paradisiacal few hours once a week, in which real life did not rear its ugly head.

If she were totally honest with herself, she mused, as she drove past St Peter’s Church en route to the Santry Omniplex, she would have to admit that it was easy for Adam to give her the
emotional support she craved, especially with regard to her writing. He had no other pressures or commitments to worry him or absorb his time. If he was in Terry’s position, trying to
maintain momentum in his business and provide emotional and material security for his three children – all of which, Maggie recognized, Terry did very well – would he be able to keep up
the level of support that she had grown so dependent on?

It was a question that had given Maggie much food for thought these past few weeks. She sighed deeply. Devlin hadn’t put a tooth in it when she declared at lunch that there were faults on
both sides. It wasn’t a very nice thing to have to admit. But maybe she was so concerned with her own needs and desires that she had neglected Terry. What was it that Devlin said? Two wrongs
don’t make a right. Perhaps if she had given a bit more instead of dwelling on her own hurts and resentment, things might have worked out for them. Should she have been as assertive as she
was, particularly in the last couple of years? Was it selfish to put herself first now and again; after all, she had as much right as her husband to develop her career and grow as a person. Surely
that was not the crime that Terry seemed to think it was. She had given him a hundred per cent support when he’d started out in business. He could have done the same for her. She’d
always put herself out for
him
, she muttered resentfully, as she drove past Dublin City University. A group of students crossed the dual carriageway, laughing and joking on their way to
The Slipper pub, and Maggie envied them their carefree gaiety.

‘What did you say, Mammy?’ Michael piped up from the back of the car.

Maggie feigned cheerfulness. ‘Nothing. I was just talking to myself.’

‘Are we nearly there?’ Mimi demanded. ‘I can’t wait!’

‘And I can’t wait mine own self,’ Shona added her tuppenceworth. Maggie felt a fleeting moment of happiness. She loved her children, with their innocent needs that were so
easily fulfilled: feed them, clothe them, keep them warm and dry and lavish love on them. Oh, of course there were days when she could strangle the three of them, but they were good affectionate
kids, and watching them develop their individual personalities was a source of great joy to her . . . and to Terry. When she had suggested going to the pictures, you would have thought she had
offered them the moon. A trip to Disneyworld wouldn’t have caused as much excitement.

‘We’re nearly there,’ she assured them. There were squeals of excitement from the back seat. No matter what happened, she thought firmly, their happiness would be
paramount.

‘Can I go to the toilet?’ Mimi asked, as Maggie paid for the four of them.

‘Of course you can. Come on, we’ll get the popcorn when you’re finished.’

‘Can I go? I’m bursting.’ Michael suddenly discovered that he too had an urgent need to do wee-wee.

‘We’ll all go,’ Maggie decided, leading them across the airy foyer of the cinema, past the snack kiosk and into the immaculate pink-and-grey ladies toilet.

‘I wish Daddy was here,’ Michael announced forlornly.

‘Why, pet?’ Maggie asked gently, as guilt scorched through her.

Her son raised his big brown eyes to her and gave a sigh. ‘’Cos then I could go into the men’s toilet instead of being stuck with all these women,’ he declared in a most
hard-done-by tone. There was no answer to that, Maggie thought!

They all thoroughly enjoyed the Disney cartoon, and sitting in the darkened cinema, the three children wide-eyed with excitement, Maggie put her worries aside for a while and joined in the
fun.

Driving home in the deepening dusk, Maggie wondered if Terry would be home from work yet. They’d have to talk. Although she’d said their marriage was over as far as she was
concerned, the needs of their children had to be considered and they couldn’t continue ignoring each other or fighting, as they’d been doing for the past few weeks.

A thought struck her. It was Nelsie’s birthday the day after tomorrow and her mother always liked to get a card through the post. She’d get one in the Winkel on the Rise. Five
minutes later Maggie pulled into the well-stocked newsagents. It had been in this very shop a few years before that she had bought the magazine featuring the novel-writing competition that had made
her sit down and write
City Woman
. Of course, the children all wanted to come in with her but she didn’t mind; they could pick a card for their gran as well and she’d buy the
stamps there and post the two in the box outside. She’d noticed that there was an eight o’clock collection so the cards would get to Wicklow in plenty of time. She’d bring her
mother down her present at the weekend.

She selected a pretty card with a thoughtful verse for her mother, and watched in amusement as her three youngsters argued over the selection of cards for a grandmother before finally making
their choice. Maggie paid the smiling woman behind the counter, wrote her greetings on the card and let the twins stick the stamps on the envelopes. On a spur-of-the-moment impulse, she bought
three lottery tickets and let the children scratch them. When they discovered that Michael’s card had won him ten pounds, there was great excitement, and they drove home singing,
‘We’re in the Money.’ Now that Maggie had made up her mind to talk to her husband, she felt marginally more positive about things. What the outcome would be, she had no idea. If
Terry was still sulking she could forget it, but maybe he too would have come to the realization that talking was the only way to settle things.