Life Drawing for Beginners (23 page)

Had he done it all wrong, had the upbringing they’d gotten damaged his children? He’d provided for them, they’d never been short. He’d gone to work every day so they could have school trips and new clothes and birthday parties, even if he’d missed more parties than he’d attended.

He’d put Valerie through nursing, he’d never even suggested she get a part-time job like a lot of other students did. He’d helped her out with the deposit on her apartment. He’d helped her move in.

But his son had turned to drugs and was dead at twenty-four, and his daughter was hardly speaking to him anymore. Was it really his fault?

And was it so bad now if he tried to show some kindness to two people in need? So what if it was more out of a sense of duty than a genuine desire to help them? The fact remained that he was putting a roof over their heads and feeding them well. What right had Valerie to criticize him for that?

He’d thought about phoning her. He’d picked up the phone a few times in the shop, but he’d put it down again. He’d say it wrong, it was sure to come out different from the way he wanted. He was no good with words, he rubbed everyone up the wrong way without even trying.

The doorbell rang and he put down the potato peeler and went to answer it.

I
rene walked into the main bathroom. Pilar was buffing the bath taps with a pink chamois.

“Please make sure you clean around the plughole,” Irene said. “That wasn’t done yesterday.”

Pilar looked up. “Please, what is plughole?”

Irene sighed. “This part here. You really should try to improve your English, Pilar; it’s very tiresome having to explain everything.”

Pilar turned back to the taps and muttered something.

“Pardon? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I say thank you, Mrs. Dillon,” Pilar replied.

“I
said
, not I say.”

“Yes, Mrs. Dillon.”

Irene remained standing behind her, watching as Pilar squeezed a few drops of water from the chamois and resumed her efforts with the taps. Just being in the same room as the au pair irritated her.

“And another thing,” she said. “I distinctly remember asking you to clean the base of the toilets, but clearly this is not being done—the downstairs one hasn’t been touched in a week.”

Pilar straightened up slowly, the chamois still in her hand, and turned again to face Irene.

“Mrs. Dillon,” she said, two pink spots appearing in her cheeks, “I try the best I can do, but always you are not happy.”

“Did you clean the base of the toilets yesterday?” Irene persisted. “You didn’t, did you?”

“No,” Pilar admitted. “I forget. There is many—”

“I
forgot
,” Irene said through gritted teeth.

“I
forgot
,” the au pair repeated, the pink in her face deepening, “because there is too many work in this house. You give me too many work every days. Everything I do, and still you give me more.”

Irene regarded her steadily. “Well, Pilar,” she said slowly, “maybe this job is too much for you.”

Pilar frowned. “No, Mrs. Dillon, I can do, but you give too many work for one person. It is not possible—”

“Nonsense,” Irene said crisply. “A hardworking person would clean this house in half the time it takes you. The only reason I keep you on is because for some reason my daughter likes you.”

Pilar met her gaze, eyes blazing. She raised her arm slowly and let the chamois plop into the bath.

“Yes, Mrs. Dillon,” she said quietly. “Emily love me, and I love her. A pity her mama not feel the same.”

Irene narrowed her eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

“You hear me, I think.” Pilar reached around and untied the white apron Irene liked her to wear in the house, and draped it carefully over the side of the bath. “I go now,” she said, and walked out of the bathroom.

Irene listened to her footsteps on the stairs. She heard Pilar going into the kitchen, and a few minutes later the front door opened and closed softly. She crossed the landing to the main bedroom and stood at the window and watched Pilar walking unhurriedly down the street, her jacket swinging from one shoulder.

She took her phone from her bag and walked downstairs. She riffled through the phone book until she found the number of the employment agency. She spoke to Triona, who told her that they had no au pairs available at the moment, but that she’d let Irene know as soon as the situation changed.

“Thank you,” Irene said coldly, and hung up. Of course there were au pairs available. There were always au pairs available, now more than ever. The agency had evidently decided that Irene had had her quota and wasn’t entitled to another.

She called her mother.

“My au pair has just walked out,” she said. “Are you free to take Emily for the afternoon? I have a full schedule in the gym that would be very awkward to change at this stage.”

“Of course I’ll take her,” her mother replied. “Why did your lady leave?”

“Probably got a better offer,” Irene said. “Will you ask around for a replacement?”

Her next call was to Martin. “Pilar has just walked out,” she said. “I have an appointment at half past twelve, so can you pick Emily up from playschool and drop her at my parents’ house?”

“Pilar walked out?”

Irene bristled at the disbelief in his voice. “Yes, Martin, your perfect au pair just turned on her heel and left. Can you collect Emily or not?”

“Of course I can, but—”

“Sorry,” she said, “another call coming through.” She hung up and dialed Pamela’s number.

“Just checking that lunch is still on,” she said.

“Absolutely. Twelve thirty sharp,” Pamela told her. “I assume you’re going to the tennis club afterwards for Miriam’s thing?”

“You assume right,” Irene said. “Are you wearing your Chanel?”

As they talked she took a Diet Coke from the fridge. Pilar wouldn’t be hard to replace. Her mother would probably have found another by the time Irene collected Emily later. There was always someone available if you knew the right place to look.

She decided to assume he was unattached. No mention of a partner, no ring, no talk of having to be home for dinner, no remark at all that would suggest the presence of a third party in his and Charlie’s lives. His wife, if he’d ever had one, was out of the picture. And surely if there was a new partner she would have accompanied James to the park, particularly when he was meeting another woman? He was unattached.

After their shaky start, the afternoon in the park had passed off well enough. By the time he’d returned with the ice cream Jackie had gotten over the shock of discovering who he was. Their conversation had been mostly small talk, with his side of it more questions than answers—she hardly learned anything about him, except that he was an estate agent, and by the way he said it she intimated that he didn’t like it—but all the same there hadn’t been too many awkward pauses.

And he was gorgeous, and he didn’t wear sensible shoes. And she loved his accent, all those soft, rounded words, and saying “aye” instead of “yes.” And the way his cheek dimpled when he—

Listen to her.

She dipped her facecloth in the hot bath water and squeezed it out, and pressed it to her face to soften the avocado mask before washing it off.
Calming
, it had said on the pack, but she felt anything but calm right now.

She lay back in the bath and breathed in the warm, wet air and imagined kissing him. Imagined lying beside him.

Their children were friends, so they’d doubtless be seeing each other regularly. She’d deliberately mentioned living with her parents, and she wore no ring on her wedding finger, so it was quite obvious she was unattached. He might not fancy her now, but that could change. She might grow on him. It was perfectly possible.

“James,” she whispered, under her facecloth. “James Sullivan.”

Pause.

“Jackie Sullivan.”

Giggle.

All of a sudden it came to her, as she rinsed shampoo from her hair. Meg, it was Meg who’d opened the playschool. Audrey would ask her on Tuesday if she could take on another child.

She towel-dried her hair and massaged in conditioner. Funny to have waited till October to find a playschool; surely he knew they all started in September, the same as the regular schools?

Still, nothing to do with her. She’d make inquiries like she’d promised and leave it at that. She pulled her plastic shower cap over her head and went downstairs to watch the Monday-night soaps.

“But
why
did she go?” Emily asked.

Leaning against the wall outside, Irene registered the short silence that followed this question. Trying to explain Pilar’s abrupt departure to a three-year-old couldn’t be easy, particularly as Martin didn’t understand it himself.

“We’re not sure, lovie,” she heard him say eventually. “But maybe there was another little girl who needed her more than you did.”

“But I wanted her to stay here,” Emily said, her voice wobbly. Irene imagined the eyes brimming with tears, the trembling chin.

“I know you did, but she had to go. She was very sorry to leave you.”

“Was she?”

“Oh, she was. She said she’d miss you very, very much.”

He was doing his best, like he always did. Trying to be everything for his daughter, trying to compensate for her mother’s inadequacies. Irene pushed herself away from the wall and went downstairs. In the kitchen she filled a glass with ice and brought it into the sitting room, where she poured herself a gin and white.

As she switched on the television her phone rang.

“Darling,” her mother said, “I’ve just got a call from Barbara Keane. Her sister-in-law has a Spanish girl who’ll be leaving them in a week or so. Quite legit, the husband is taking up a job in Dubai so the family’s moving over, and apparently the au pair isn’t taken with the Middle East. Have you got a pen?”

Irene wrote down
Katerina
and a mobile number. As she thanked her mother and hung up, Martin walked in and dropped wearily onto the couch.

“Is she asleep?”

He nodded, his eyes closed.

“Do you want a drink?” Irene asked.

“No thanks.” He opened his eyes. “So what happened?”

She picked up her glass and the ice clinked. “I told you, Pilar decided that the work was too much, and she opted to go. That’s it.”

“That’s it? No row? She just walked out?”

Irene shrugged. “That’s it.”

“What about giving notice? I can’t see her just deserting us like that.”

“Well, she didn’t say anything about notice to me.”

Martin folded his arms. “We never seem to hold on to an au pair for long,” he said. “They never seem to last.”

That’s because I get rid of them
. The words sounded clearly in Irene’s head.
I get rid of them as soon as I can because I’m jealous. I’m jealous of how they are with Emily, and I’m jealous of how you are with them, all friendly and chatty because they can do what I can’t
.

They sat in silence for a while. Irene sipped her drink.

“So what now?” Martin asked eventually.

“Now,” Irene replied lightly, “we find someone new. I just got a name from my mother. I’ll give her a ring tomorrow.”

He reached across and took her hand. “Irene, love,” he said, “do we really have to get another au pair?”

She looked down at his fingers entwined in hers. The feel of his skin on hers was so rare, and so precious. She squeezed his hand, she stroked his wrist with her thumb.

“Would you not give it a try?” he asked softly, pleadingly. “Just for a month, just to see. You could still do the gym in the mornings if you want, while Emily’s at playschool. You’re her mother, you’re better than any au pair.”

He would never understand, never.

“I can’t,” she said. “I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

He released her hand, as she had known he would, and picked up the remote control. They watched
Questions and Answers
in silence.

“I am very happy,” Pilar declared, “to be finished with that
kalè.
”

Zarek made an educated guess as to what
kalè
meant.

Pilar tipped back her head and emptied the rest of her M&M’s into her mouth, and cracked the shells loudly.

“But I will miss Emily,” she went on, her cheeks full of chocolate, her face mournful. “I could not say good-bye, and that is very terrible for me.”

“Yes, it is terrible.”

“Maybe,” she said, crumpling the M&M’s bag and flinging it at the wastepaper basket, “there will be a job at your café for me.”

Pilar at work, Pilar at home. No more quiet mornings in the apartment, before the café opened. The scenario was one that did not appeal to Zarek. “But you are so good with the childrens, I think you must find another job like this one.”

Pilar made a dismissive gesture. “Yes, yes, I try for au pair job of course, but also I look in your café, and at Anton’s job. I must try everywhere.”

“Yes,” Zarek said, his heart sinking. “You are right.”

“I will come,” she said, “when you are in work, and I will speak with your boss. You will say I am good worker, and very honest, because of course is true.”

“Of course,” Zarek said faintly.

“Tomorrow I come. What time your boss come in work?”

“Tomorrow is Tuesday,” Zarek told her, clutching at the reprieve. “Is my day off.”

Pilar shrugged. “So I come on Wednesday. You text me when boss come in work.”

“Yes, I text.”

Doom. He sensed doom, quite close by.

Carmel sat on the bed and flicked through the job application forms Ethan’s father had filled in for her. Ten, she’d gotten, for all the good it would do. Even if she couldn’t read what he’d written, she could see how little there was on every page. But he was trying to help, so she had to do what she could. Tomorrow she’d bring them back to the places they’d come from.

She looked at the top sheet and read
Carmel Ryan
. Ethan’s father had never once asked her for her name, he’d been happy to have her living in his house without even knowing what she was called.

He wasn’t getting involved with them in case she was lying about Barry being part of his family. She could understand it, she wasn’t blaming him. He couldn’t be expected to believe her without some proof.

Well, he knew her name now; and he knew Barry’s, because she’d told him. She wondered if he ever used it when the two of them were in the pet shop. She knew he read stories to Barry. She couldn’t imagine him doing it, but Barry had told her about Jack and the Beanstalk and Thomas the Tank Engine and Cinderella, so it had to be true.

He wasn’t the monster he made himself out to be. It wasn’t surprising that he’d gone a bit grumpy with his wife dying so young and then his son going on drugs. And what was the story with Ethan’s sister? There must be a problem there too, when she never came around to visit her father, never even phoned him up for a chat in the evening. And it sounded like she’d gone mad when she’d walked into the shop and seen Barry.

She slid the pages back into the big brown envelope he’d given her. Better keep them clean or he’d have something to say. She set the envelope on the bedside locker, next to her tin box. Her treasure box.

She undressed slowly and got into bed beside her son.