Francesca's Party (7 page)

‘At least you’ve got a job. You’re financially independent,’ Francesca interjected.

‘Look, see what happens tomorrow when he comes home. Maybe he’ll be crushed and full of apologies—’

‘And maybe he’ll see it as an excuse to get out. They were totally relaxed together, a real cosy unit,’ Francesca said bitterly. ‘She was so fucking perfect looking, all long legs and pert boobs. I felt so frumpy and middle-aged beside her.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Francesca, you’re the height of elegance,’ Millie consoled.

‘
Elegance!
’ scoffed Francesca. ‘It makes me sound so middle-aged. She was young, Millie.
Young
. I hate being goddamn forty. It’s all downhill from here. Why is this happening to me? What sort of a life am I going to have? I’m past it, Millie. No man’s ever going to give me a second look now.’

‘Stop that nonsense right now, Francesca Kirwan. I won’t have you downing yourself like that just because that total idiot of a husband of yours let his dick get the better of him. I’m telling you, six months of living with Miss Teen-Queen and he’ll be on his hands and knees begging to come back. Trust me on this one, Francesca. And you’ll be the one with the upper hand then and by God you use it.’ Millie’s eyes were hard with anger.

Francesca felt warmed by her sister’s loyalty. She knew it was pathetic but she wanted everyone to hate Mark right now. She wanted them to despise and condemn him for all the hurt and pain he was causing her by his callous rejection of their marriage. He was the one who would end up ostracized and alone.
Family
and friends would support her through this ordeal. Then he’d be sorry, she thought viciously. She hoped he’d suffer. She wanted him to suffer. She
hated
him. Her resolve hardened. She’d make Mark pay for the rest of his days for what he’d done to her. She was going to make sure the whole damn world knew what he’d done to her. He’d be mortified. Mark was an extremely private person. If he thought people were gossiping about him at work he’d be horrified. His dignity would be in tatters. By the time she was finished with him, he wouldn’t have a shred of dignity left, she vowed, her grip tightening on the brandy glass as she stared into the flickering flames, oblivious to her sister’s concerned gaze.

‘FRANCESCA, PICK UP
the phone please. I’m at Dublin Airport. I need to know where you’ve left the car,’ Mark growled down the phone. It was the following morning. He and Nikki had arrived back in Dublin Airport, tired and stressed. There were three huge multi-storey car parks plus an open-air one. The car could be in any of them. He hadn’t a clue where to start looking.

The silence at the other end was deafening. His wife had the answering machine on but he was sure she was in the house. ‘Francesca, pick up the phone, now!’ he ordered. Silence. ‘Francesca, if you’re not there and you come in and get this message, call me on this number immediately.’ He reeled off Nikki’s phone number and hung up.

‘There’s nothing for it but to go through the car parks, I suppose,’ he said irritably to Nikki who was flicking through a magazine in the book shop.

‘I suggest we start with number C, it’s usually the one where you have the most chance of getting a space,’ she said calmly.

‘OK, come on,’ he agreed. He was as mad as hell. Francesca could have told him where the car was parked. She was being a vindictive bitch. Life was going to be fairly gruesome for the foreseeable future. She was probably going to insist that he stop seeing Nikki. He didn’t know if he could. Maybe they could ease off for a while and when the heat had died down, get back together again. They trekked in silence to the furthest car park, each lost in their own thoughts. How on earth had Francesca found out about him and Nikki? Mark asked himself for the hundredth time. They had been extremely discreet. No-one knew about them at work, he was sure of it. It would have got back to him one way or another. It was mystifying. ‘I’ll do the first level,’ he said as they reached the car park.

‘OK,’ Nikki agreed. They split up and began the search for Mark’s BMW.

Nikki took the lift to the second level and tried to stay calm. She felt extremely agitated. She couldn’t understand Mark’s consternation at being found out. As far as she was concerned it was a liberation. It meant that Mark could now choose to be with her. They could be a couple. Francesca knew about them now, surely she wouldn’t want him back.

She strode along the gloomy grey, cold car park, scowling. It seemed increasingly clear to her – from his behaviour since Francesca had barged in on them – that Mark saw her as mistress material, but not as a potential partner. That was extremely distressing. She’d had enough of being a mistress. She wanted a proper relationship with all the frills, she thought
tiredly
as she scanned the parked cars. She wanted a commitment from him. She’d never put pressure on him, knowing that it was the worst thing that she could do, but everything had changed now. The goal posts had shifted.

He was going to have to choose. It was as simple as that. Mark was going to have to make a decision either to leave his wife and move in with her, or stay with Francesca and risk losing her. And it was a big risk the way she was feeling right now. She felt very unloved and very unwanted.

Stay calm
, Nikki told herself as she walked down yet another aisle.
He’s in shock. He’s not thinking straight. He’s not himself. Of course he wants to be with you. He adores you. Don’t let him see that you’re feeling needy and vulnerable. He’ll run a mile. Don’t put any pressure on for a while. See what way the whole situation pans out. Don’t let him see that it’s getting to you
.

‘Easier said than done,’ she muttered as she traipsed the length of the second-floor car park with neither sight nor sign of Mark’s car.

She was just about to go to the next level when he drove up alongside her. ‘Hop in,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring you to your car.’

‘Where was it?’ she asked as she got into the car beside him.

‘The third level. I suppose it wasn’t too bad. We could have been here until tomorrow.’

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked casually.

‘I’d better go home and face the music,’ he groaned. ‘I’m not looking forward to it. God, Nikki, this is a nightmare. How the hell did she find out?’

‘Give me a call and let me know how it goes. Keep your cool and don’t get into a row if you can help it,’ she advised as he pulled up beside her car. ‘And, darling, don’t worry too much. Maybe it’s all for the best.’

He didn’t look too convinced as he leaned over to kiss her. ‘I’ll hang on to the cases for the time being. See you, Nikki, I’ll be in touch,’ he said heavily.

‘Whenever,’ she said lightly. She got out of his car and got into her own and roared out of the parking bay.

I’ll be in touch
. That didn’t sound as though he was going to leave his wife. In fact it didn’t sound too promising at all. Why had he kept his cases? Was this the end of the road for them? Fear gripped her. She loved Mark more than she’d ever loved anyone. She didn’t think she could face life without him. What would she do if he ended it? Nikki drove home more worried than she had ever been in her life.

Mark drove fast once he got onto the M50. The sooner the ordeal was over, the better. He felt apprehensive. He hadn’t a leg to stand on. He had no defence. Francesca was perfectly within her rights to feel betrayed and angry, but, damn it, he hadn’t fallen in love with Nikki on purpose. His wife would never understand his point of view if he tried to explain why he’d gone into the relationship with the younger woman.

The best thing to do would be to take his medicine and say nothing, he decided. Least said soonest mended. There was no point in getting into a full-scale row. It would make things worse. That was if
they
could get any worse. Things were about as bad as they could be, he thought agitatedly as he accelerated to pass a juggernaut. He hoped that Francesca wouldn’t say anything about all this to Owen. It would be impossible to look his son in the eye. He felt sick even thinking about it. Both his sons admired and respected him. That respect was important to him. Now it was in total jeopardy.

‘Oh, what a bloody mess,’ Mark muttered, wishing he was a million miles away.

Francesca replayed Mark’s message. She was incandescent with rage. How dare he speak to her like that? The
nerve
of him. Anybody would think that she was in the wrong. She hoped it took him hours to find his car. She shut off the answering machine. At least she now knew that he was in Dublin.

Would he come back home or would he go off with his tart to wherever she was living? She didn’t know. Everything she had ever felt secure about had crumbled away. She felt lost, bewildered and frightened. What would she say to him when he came home?
If
he came home. She prayed that she wouldn’t disgrace herself by bursting into tears. That would be
so
undignified.

Francesca hurried upstairs and ran a brush through her hair. She stared at her face in the mirror. She looked a sight. Big black circles under her eyes, pale skin tinged with the grey of shock combined with a sleepness night. She dithered, wondering whether to go the whole hog and slap on the war paint.

Why should she bother? she thought distractedly.
What
did she care what she looked like for him? She wanted him out of her life. She didn’t care if she never saw him again.

She was like a cat on a griddle, up and down every five minutes to peer out of the window. She went downstairs and made herself a cup of coffee and carried it into the lounge, but her stomach was tied up in knots and she couldn’t drink it.

She went upstairs again and glanced out of the landing window. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the car turn into the drive. She felt faint.

Francesca inhaled deeply and stood at the top of the stairs waiting for his key to go into the lock. When it did, she nearly threw up. She heard him take the key out and put it back in the lock and try again. She could imagine his impatience. The bell rang and she jumped, even though she was expecting it. It rang again and again, loud, insistent. And then continuously, setting her teeth on edge. Who the bloody hell did he think he was? she raged.

FOR A MINUTE
or two Francesca was sorely tempted not to answer the door. He didn’t know whether she was in or not. Her car was in the garage. It would be good enough for him to let him stew. But as the shrill ding dong of the chimes kept ringing, her temper got the better of her and she flung open the door.

‘Don’t be so bloody rude,’ she snarled. ‘One ring was enough. I’m not deaf—’

‘What the hell is going on here? Why won’t my key fit in the lock?’ Mark demanded, shoving his way into the hall, glaring at her in fury.

‘Because I’ve had the locks changed, Mark. This is no—’

‘You can’t do that!’ he interrupted, incensed.

‘Excuse me, Mark. I can. And I have. You’re not living here any more—’

‘I’ll live where I damn well like. This is my house,’ he roared.

Francesca slammed the front door shut. ‘Let’s not let the whole of the Hill of Howth know that we’re
having
a row,’ she said coldly. ‘This is my house too. My home. You’re no longer welcome here. You can go and live with your trollop and do whatever the hell you like.’

‘You cut that out, Francesca. Nikki is not a trollop or anything like it. And she’s not bloody petty like you, either.’

‘Mark, I’m not interested in …
Nikki
’ – her voice dripped contempt – ‘I just want you to get out of here. You disgust me!’

‘Well, you’re disgusting me with your behaviour,’ he retorted. ‘I never thought you were vindictive.’

‘It seems we don’t know each other at all, doesn’t it?’ Francesca spat. ‘I’d never have taken you for a lying two-faced cheat. You’ve been with her for nearly a year, haven’t you? You lying bastard.’

Mark couldn’t hold her gaze. He stalked into the kitchen.

Francesca followed him. ‘Haven’t you?’ she repeated.

‘Yes,’ he muttered.

‘Why? Why did you do it? What was wrong with our marriage that you had to go and sleep with someone else?’ Francesca demanded.

‘It isn’t all about sex, Francesca,’ he said heatedly.

‘Oh, isn’t it? Well, it didn’t look like that to me when I saw you snogging her in the airport and when I walked in on you down in Cork,’ she sneered.

‘The sex side of our relationship is very good, as it happens,’ he lashed back, knowing that it would hurt her. ‘But there’s much more to Nikki than that. She’s a highly intelligent woman—’

‘And I’m not? Is that what you’re saying? I’m a
thicko
who’s no good in bed, is that it?’ she shouted, utterly wounded by his defence of his mistress.

‘I’m not saying that, Francesca,’ he growled. ‘Stop putting words in my mouth.’

‘Well, what
are
you saying? We had a good marriage, didn’t we? We reared two sons and made a nice home. Why have you turned your back on it? What was so wrong with us that you’ve gone and ruined everything?’

‘Oh God, Francesca, I was in a
rut
. I was bored. Middle-aged. Fed up being responsible. Didn’t you ever feel that there had to be more to life?’ He banged his hand on the kitchen table. ‘When she came into my life I started to have fun again. She made me feel that life could be different. She made me feel young—’

‘You idiot, Mark! You’re not young any more,’ Francesca yelled. ‘You
are
middle-aged, whether you like it or not. Deal with it. Do you think I like being forty? I don’t. I hate it. But I didn’t go out and start looking for a young toy boy to make me feel better. I felt bored and in a rut too, you know. Don’t you think that I get pissed off looking after you and the boys and the house and your damn cranky old father? I do. Believe me. But I didn’t go out looking for a quick fix with some … some passing fancy just to make me feel better …
younger
…’ she raged.

Mark gritted his teeth. ‘Well, maybe you should have, Francesca.’