Francesca's Party (43 page)

‘Hello?’ he growled.

‘Hi, darling,’ she said cheerily. ‘I’m terribly lonely without you. Do you want to come down for a night of unbridled passion? It wouldn’t take you more than an hour. It’s beautiful and peaceful down here.’

‘Where is it?’ he said heavily. He listened while she gave crisp, concise directions.

‘OK,’ he agreed. He didn’t want to be on his own tonight. Seeing Francesca so relaxed in the company of another man had unsettled him. The way she’d gone into his arms had hit him like a physical blow. That bastard knew Mark had been looking when he
kissed
the top of her head. He might as well have said:
She’s mine now
. He’d never thought of Francesca getting involved with another man. Stupid of him, he supposed. Why should she be on her own just because it didn’t suit him? Why did he feel so bad about it?

That sundress was new, he hadn’t seen it before. It made her look youthful. And it revealed far too much of her boobs, too. He scowled. And whatever she’d done to her hair suited her. That bloke fancied her like mad. He’d seen the way he looked at her. It was strange to think of someone fancying your wife. It made you look at her differently, he mused. He’d stopped paying attention years ago. Francesca was Francesca. She’d been part of his life for so long he’d taken her for granted. His attraction to and desire for Nikki had hit him like a thunderbolt and it had been mighty good. He’d felt alive. He still did when he was with her. He liked being with her, but seeing Francesca with that bloke brought a depth of feeling to the surface that baffled the hell out of him. What exactly – anger aside – were his feelings for her? The risk of losing her to someone else was not one he cared to think about. Why? How come he was reacting like this? Mark shook his head in frustration. Life was so damned complicated. And most of it was his own doing, which didn’t help.

‘So what does he look like? He sounds dead sexy.’ Millie was agog with curiosity.

‘He’s very attractive. He’s tall, which I like because it makes me feel less of an amazon—’

‘Tsk! Don’t be ridiculous, Francesca, you’re not
that
tall,’ Millie interjected. ‘And it suits you. Now tell me about Ravishing Ralph.’

‘He’s got lovely brown eyes, sort of sleepy looking if you know what I mean.’

‘Come-to-bed eyes, you mean,’ Millie corrected. ‘And?’

‘And he’s got a craggy sort of lived-in face. He’s been separated for two years, he has two young daughters. He lives in an apartment on the Grand Canal. He’s a journalist and he keeps asking me out.’

‘And why aren’t you going?’ Millie demanded.

‘Well, maybe I will after this evening,’ Francesca said.

‘Oh, I’d love to have seen Mark’s face when he saw him sitting out on the deck. What a kick in the ass
that
must have been,’ Millie gloated.

‘He was a real shit about it,’ Francesca said sourly. ‘Honest to God, I’ve never seen him act like this. I never thought he had it in him to be so obnoxious. He was horrible.’

‘Of course he was. Why are you so surprised? He’s jealous, you idiot.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ scoffed Francesca. ‘He’s just mad because he’s got to sell the house and he thinks it’s because I’m having an affair with Ralph.’

‘I’m telling you, Francesca, he’s emerald green,’ Millie said firmly.

‘But why? He’s with the sexy high-flyer. Why on earth would he be jealous?’

‘Well, part of it is because he’s being a mean dog in the manger piss artist, but I’d say the shock of seeing you with another man made him realize what he’s missing,’ Millie said astutely.

‘You’re just biased, Millie,’ Francesca said fondly.

‘We’ll see. Now, make a date with dishy Ralph. He sounds like he’s just what you need right now.’

‘I don’t need complications,’ Francesca retorted.

‘Who’s talking about complications, for God’s sake! It’s a date, that’s all.’

‘Dates are for teenagers. I’m forty, Millie, heading very rapidly for forty-one,’ Francesca groaned.

‘Oh, don’t be such a wimp,’ jeered Millie. ‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bye.’

‘Bye.’ Francesca smiled as she hung up. Millie was such a tonic. And she was right. What harm could a dinner date do? It would be nice to have male company again. The next time Ralph called her, she’d accept his invitation to dinner. She wasn’t interested in having a romantic interlude but the friendship could be nice. She meant what she said about complications. She’d seen friends whose marriages had broken down rush into disastrous relationships on the rebound and give themselves even more grief. She wasn’t going to fall into that trap. Being single suited her just fine for now, she decided as she went to the
Golden Pages
and took down the numbers of several estate agents.

Ralph fumbled with his key and let himself into his apartment. He’d stopped off at the Barge and had a few snifters on top of the wine he’d polished off at Francesca’s and he was a little under the weather, to say the least. He was feeling sorry for himself. He’d come all the way up from Cork to take the woman out to dinner and much good it had done him. He’d been hoping that right this very minute she’d be in
his
arms doing wild, dirty things to him. He gave a great sigh and belched. Alcohol fumes wreathed his head.

He might as well have another drink, he decided, lurching to his feet. He saw the red light on his answering machine flashing steadily. Sod it, he thought as he poured himself a generous tumbler of whiskey, some of it splashing onto the carpet as his hand shook.

He put the glass to his lips and took a swig, grimacing as the whiskey hit the back of his throat. He jabbed a finger at the
play
button and heard the whir of the tape.

‘Ralph, you bastard. Where are you? You promised you’d be at Sally’s summer project play. How can you do this to your own daughter? You do it to them all the time. How can you be so totally selfish? Have you no feelings for them at all? You’re not fit to be a father,’ his wife raged.

Ralph smote his forehead. He’d completely forgotten about Sally’s play. Damn. Damn. Damn. He’d make it up to her. He’d take her to McDonald’s and the pictures. She’d enjoy that. Jill had no business talking to him like that, he thought self-pityingly as he slumped into a chair clutching his precious tumbler of whiskey.

NIKKI PUT THE
sheets into the washing machine, threw in some washing powder tablets and switched it on. She then turned her attention to the dishes in the sink. Her few days of peace and quiet had flown by. It was hard to believe it was time to go home. She stood at the sink, up to her wrists in hot, sudsy water, and stared unseeingly out of the kitchen window. She’d come to this place to sort things out in her head and she was going home as confused as ever, she thought dispiritedly.

She’d been on such a high looking forward to Mark’s arrival but when he’d finally driven down the little lane and she’d hurried out to greet him, all she’d got was a distracted peck on the cheek. Eventually, after much prompting, the whole sorry saga had come erupting out of him, much to her dismay. He was hopping mad.

She just couldn’t figure Mark out, she thought dejectedly as she washed the dishes and placed them in the drainer.
She’d
been over the moon to hear that
the
wicked witch of Howth was seeing a man. That was
precisely
the kind of news she’d been longing to hear for months. But Mark was like a demon.

‘He drives a ten-year-old Saab, he’s after her money, I’m telling you. No wonder she wanted to sell up,’ he ranted. ‘He knows that he’s onto a good thing. And Francesca’s such a softie she can’t see it. But
I’m
not stupid. I know a chancer on the make when I see one.’

No matter what she’d said to try and allay his fears, he would not be placated. He’d made love to her perfunctorily, and then tossed and turned while she lay frustrated and disheartened beside him.

So what if that guy was after Francesca’s money? It was her money and that was her lookout. She was big enough – in every way, Nikki thought viciously – to look after herself. What was it with Mark? Why did it matter to him? Why did he have to hang on to her? There really was only one answer that she could come up with, if she were being totally honest, and that was that he still had feelings for his wife. Otherwise he’d never react so strongly every time they had a tiff. Why couldn’t he have phoned Francesca to tell her that he was agreeing to put the house up for sale? Why did he have to go traipsing over to Howth to tell her in person? she wondered unhappily. Was it just an excuse to see her? Did he still love Francesca?

Nikki rinsed her hands under the tap and dried them. She wandered out onto the veranda and sat down in the rocking chair. The sea breeze blew her hair into her eyes and impatiently she brushed it away. She felt she was fighting a losing battle.
Francesca
seemed to have all the cards and she was playing a very skilful game. Maybe this Ralph guy was just a ploy to make Mark jealous enough to go back to her. That
would
be humiliating. She’d never be able to stay in EuroBank Irl. if that happened. But what could she do? She had to think of something, and fast, to bind Mark tightly to her.

There was one course of action she could take but it was rather drastic. And besides, the truth was she didn’t want him to be bound to her. More than anything she wanted him to be with her because it was where he wanted to be. That was the only way that led to peace of mind. What a mess her life was. Deep down Nikki knew that hard as it was to live with Mark, it would be unbearable to have to live without him. On the other hand, if they stayed together it would always be on his terms. To think otherwise was only fooling herself.

‘I’d be delighted to value the house for you, Mrs Kirwan, if you could give me a time and day that suits you,’ William Lloyd of Lloyd & Flood, Estate Agents, Auctioneers, and Valuers, said briskly.

‘How about tomorrow morning at eleven? I work during the week,’ Francesca suggested.

‘Fine. I’ll be there. You’ll certainly have no trouble selling the property, Mrs Kirwan, although it’s mid-summer, a slow time in the property business. There’s always a pick-up come the end of August, September.’

‘That’s fine, whenever,’ Francesca replied. ‘See you on Saturday.’

‘Indeed I will. Goodbye, Mrs Kirwan.’

Francesca put down the phone slowly. This was it. She was committed now. The ‘For Sale’ sign would be up next week, she thought with a tinge of sadness.

Release, relax, let go
. Her little mantra popped into her head. Selling the house would be a huge letting go, she acknowledged. There’d be no turning back then. She was reluctant to phone Mark to let him know that she’d engaged the services of an estate agent. She couldn’t face another abusive tirade. A thought struck her. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She rooted in her bag for her wallet and withdrew a business card of Mark’s. She’d never got around to throwing it out. Just as well, she thought, studying his business details. She sat at the computer and logged on to send an e-mail. It meant she wouldn’t have to talk to the old crab but she could keep him up to date with developments.

She sent her husband a short note telling him of her choice of estate agents. She paused then, wondering if she should type:
if that’s OK by you?
but decided that that would seem as if she were asking his permission, which certainly wasn’t the case. She ended simply by saying that she would keep him updated. She reread it carefully before sending it off and wondered what his response would be.

It was a fraught day. She was up and down every ten minutes to see if he’d replied and every time the phone rang she jumped, half expecting it to be Mark ranting down the line. She was hoping, too, that Ralph would call to see how she was and perhaps suggest a dinner date over the weekend. As four o’clock came and neither of them had contacted her, she felt a mounting sense of disappointment.
Fortunately
Ken was out of the office all day and wasn’t there to observe her jumpy behaviour.

At ten to five she checked once more to see if Mark had responded. Her stomach clenched when she saw she had an e-mail.
Fine
was his terse reply and inexplicably it infuriated her. Was that the best he could do? He was so childish sometimes it was beyond belief.

She went home from work in a crabby humour and spent several hours cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom despite the fact that she had a cleaning lady who came once a week and who would have been mortally offended if she had known what Francesca was up to.

That night she went to bed with a vague sense of disappointment. Now that she’d finally decided to go out with Ralph the least he could have done was phone her, she thought irrationally as she lay in bed flicking desultorily through
Vanity Fair
. Maybe she’d put him off by her refusals. He was easily put off then, if that was the case, she thought glumly. Perhaps she should call him. That was the thing to do now. Women no longer had to sit by the phone waiting for a phone call from a man. They were allowed to be pro-active. It was an equal society, she assured herself. Far different from the one she’d grown up in.

If she hadn’t heard from him over the weekend she’d call him on Monday, she decided, reading her horoscope at the back. It was all about Saturn being in her seventh house, she couldn’t make head nor tail of it. It was no help to her, she decided as she switched off the bedside light and waited for sleep to come.

Mark yawned. Nikki had gone to bed ages ago. He should go himself but he wanted to be alone for a while. He went out onto the balcony and sat looking at the lights in the windows of the plush apartments. Small floodlights illuminated the grounds giving the shrubs and flowers strange shapes and shadows in the dark. The breeze whispered through the branches of the trees, carrying the scent of honeysuckle and stock. A sliver of new moon hung lopsidedly in the sky and stars twinkled faintly. It was hard to see them in the city. On the veranda of the beach house in the inky blackness of the countryside they had shone vividly, so near he’d felt he could reach out and pluck one from the dark velvet sky. It was a pity he’d been so agitated about Francesca’s carry on. It had spoilt the night for him and Nikki.