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Authors: Marisa Mackle

Tags: #Humorous, #Fiction

Mr Right for the Night (26 page)

BOOK: Mr Right for the Night
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‘That’s right,  he’s a super guy,’ his wife agreed.

‘Why  didn’t  he  come  down   with  you?’  Aileen reached  for a second helping of mashed  potatoes.

‘Simon’s too busy. All work  and no play.’

‘No harm,’ her mother said matter-of-factly. ‘Sure, wouldn’t  it be worse  to  have  him  under  your  feet all day?’

Andrew,  determined not  to  be  ignored,  gave  a surprised  shout  from his baby chair.

‘Oh he’s so adorable,’  Aileen gushed. ‘I can’t wait to have a baby of my own.’

‘You’ll have to wait  till you’re married  first,’ her mother  said firmly.

‘And  where   would   I  find  a  husband?  There’s nothing   but  eejits  around here.  I  wouldn’t   touch them with a barge pole.’

‘Ah Aileen, you’ve plenty of time yet,’ Claire said kindly.

‘Not really,’ her mother sniffed. ‘You were Aileen’s age when you met Simon.’

Feeling her pulse rising, Aileen made  a swift exit from the room. Her father disappeared into the good room  to  watch  the  news.  Claire  and  her  mother tackled  the washing-up.

‘My biggest mistake  was not  sending  Aileen and Mickey  to boarding school.’  Her  mother  scrubbed  one of the big saucepans  fiercely.

‘But I hated  boarding school,’  Claire  argued,  ‘I
was so lonely.’

‘Well, look  how  well you’ve done.  You  met  all the right people and moved  in the best circles. And I mean  I  have  to  say you  married  one  of the  best catches around.’

‘I dunno  about  that.’
  Claire  gave a plate  a half-
hearted  wipe. ‘Simon is out a lot with his friends.’

‘George did that  too at first. But look how settled he became.  I turned  a blind  eye to it all. Just made sure I kept myself slim and attractive.’

Claire  sighed.  This  conversation   was  getting  her absolutely nowhere. Not a negative word was allowed to be heard  about  super Simon.

She’d have to go back  to Dublin  in the morning  and try to sort things out herself.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Back at  home,  Claire  found  it hard  to  be civil to her  husband. Although  on  the  outside  she put  up a  semblance  of normality, inside she seemed to be constantly crying. At night she found it increasingly hard  to  sleep  and  spent  most  of  the  time  staring vacantly out of the kitchen window  where darkness stretched  into infinity.

She felt trapped. She didn’t know what to do. One moment  she was Claire  and everything  was normal  and then she’d remember Shelley kissing her husband and her world  would  spin out of control  again.  She had to do something. But what?

Her own head did not have the answers. Anna had moved  on to her new job in Galway.  Nobody was around. Nobody seemed to be there for her. That’s why when Tom rang to innocently  arrange  another trip  to the gallery, she broke  down.  It was as if all the  torturous anxieties  and  strangled  emotions  she had  been  bottling  up over the past  few weeks had finally tumbled forth.

Concerned, he  invited  her  to  his  apartment for tea  the  following  Saturday. She accepted  without hesitation.

Simon didn’t dare refuse to babysit, as his wife got herself ready in stony silence and left the house.

As she nervously  took  the  lift to  Tom’s  Dalkey apartment, overlooking
the sea, Claire  felt an inex
plicable wave of guil
t sweep over her.  But she dis
missed it just as fast. After all it wasn’t like she was planning   anything   terrible.   Everything  was  above board. She pressed the doorbell  and Tom let her in.

His apartment was  simply  furnished  with  white cotton  rugs,  and  flanking  the  fireplace  was  a pair of  ornate  mirrors,  designed  to  give the  impression of spaciousness.

Claire was drawn
to the view from  the bay win
dow. The sea was sparkling  like a thousand million diamonds. Magnificent.

‘Wow,  this  is  huge
ly  therapeutic,’  Claire  mur
mured. ‘No wonder  you’re always in a good mood.’

‘Not always.’ Tom joined her at the window  and slipped  a  strong  arm  around her  tiny  waist.  ‘Not always I’m afraid.’

‘Emma  told  me  about  the  tragedy,’  Claire  said softly. ‘I . . . I don’t know  what  to say.’

‘It’s not always easy to find the right words,’ Tom said  delicately.  ‘Sometimes it’s just best not  to say anything.’

When she moved closer to him and felt the warmth of his body against  hers it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

They stood  in companionable silence,  gazing  at the breathtaking view. It had such a calming effect. She wondered what was going through his mind. Did he simply feel protective  towards her or was it more than that?

She moved slightly towards him. He didn’t move away.  But that’s  where  the physical  contact  ended and for some reason Claire was glad of it. Of course it wasn’t out of loyalty for Simon. No, definitely not. It’s  just  that  somewhere   deep  deep  down,   Claire knew that  two wrongs  would  never make a right.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY

‘So what are the fellas like up in Dublin?’ Aoife was dying to know.  ‘Grainne  says they’re all rides.’

‘Oh,  I  don’t  know  about   that.’  Anna  sipped  a cool beer on the bright  new yellow sofa. ‘I suppose city men  make  a bit  more  of an  effort  with  their appearance. But there’s more choice in Dublin.’

‘More clothes shops?’

‘And more men.’

‘So are you going to contact  that  fella who  was asking after you?’

‘You mean Mark?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one.’

‘Ah no,  he’s just  a friend.’  Anna  lit a cigarette. Aoife wasn’t a smoker  but  insisted  she didn’t  mind other   people   smoking,   which   was   great.   There wasn’t  anything  much  worse  than  a flatmate  who was constantly opening  windows  to shoo away  the smoke.

Aoife was really easy going and  Anna  just knew she was going to enjoy living with her.

Work was going well too. It was great not having

June  breathing  down   her  neck  like  a  demented dragon. She wondered how  Elaine was getting  on. She’d  be back  from  her holidays  by now.

Dublin   seemed  a  million   miles  away   with   its constant stream  of traffic and  pollution. She loved the  soft  west-of-Ireland air  and  the  fact  that  the Galwegians   didn’t  seem  to  suffer  the  same  stress that  Dubliners   did.  Nothing  could  beat   walking the  pier  in Salthill  in  the  evenings  with  the  fierce Atlantic  wind against  your face. Living near the sea did one’s  complexion no harm,  that  was for sure.

But she did miss Claire and Mark  and sometimes in  work,  though  she tried  hard  to  concentrate on her  sales  figures,  images  of  Mark’s   smiling  face floated  past.

The following  morning  at work,  one of the girls handed   her  a  handwritten  envelope.  Anna  was intrigued.  It was always  great  to get something  in the post  other  than  company  mail.  She opened  the envelope  tentatively.

Inside was a card  with  a cute cartoon kitten  on the  front.

 

Best of luck  in your  new  role, Elaine

 

Anna  smiled.  That  was  big of Elaine.  Anna  knew how  much  her colleague  had  wanted  the  job.  Fair play to  her  for sending  the card.

She was busy busy
busy. Being an assistant  man
ager  was  a  huge  responsibility. Miss  Browne  was often  out  of town,  leaving the  day-to-day running  of the store to Anna. The new position had given her enormous confidence,  however,  and  looking  back Anna  often   questioned  how   she’d  ever  doubted taking  on  the role.

But it left little free time. For  men or anything  else.

Often  Anna  barely  had  the  energy  to  take  off her  make-up   in  the  evenings  before  flopping  into bed.

The date  of the dreaded  party  was looming  and the  thought of it just would  not  go away.

Who the hell was she going to bring?

She didn’t  know  if she could  face going alone. No  matter   how  successful  she’d  become  those
silly twits  would  still  look  down  on  her  because she  hadn’t  nabbed  a man  for herself.

Aoife was very good to her. Insisted on dragging her  to Central  Park  on a Friday  night  when  Anna would have killed just to fall into bed instead.  Aoife wouldn’t  hear  of it. She was  Grainne’s  sister  after all. The nights were admittedly  great  craic and  the music  in  Central  Park   was  always   brilliant   but unfortunately most  of  the  guys who  chatted  Anna up were younger  than  her and she wasn’t  prepared to go down  that  road  again. Oh God, what was she going to do about  this blasted  party?  She couldn’t wait  for it all to be over.

And then  she met Darren. Totally  out  of the blue.

A last-minute meeting  in Dublin  meant  that  she had to take  the early morning  flight to the capital. A heavy  fog  meant  a  late  departure. Anna  sat  in the  airport  and stared  out  of the  window  waiting for the incoming  plane  to land.

It felt like it was still the middle  of the night.

At first she didn’t  notice  the tall, handsome man take  a seat opposite  her.

‘Is this Terminal  One?’ he asked.

‘Excuse me?’ She looked  up and locked eyes with him.  He  was  good  looking.   Very  good  looking, in  fact,  with   striking   blue  eyes  and   razor-sharp cheekbones.   He  showed   her  his  ticket.   Terminal One  was clearly written  on it.

They both  laughed.

‘I presume you’re in the right place,’ she chuckled. Galway   airport  was  tiny,   definitely  not   enough room  for a second  terminal.

‘Must  be a mistake  then.’  He grinned,  revealing film-star  teeth.   ‘So  where   are  you  off  to?  Is  it business  or pleasure?’

‘Business,’ Anna  sai
d firmly. ‘Sure what  is pleas
urable  about  getting up in the middle of the night?’

‘I know  what  you mean.  I’m actually  on my way to  Manchester.’

‘Very good.’

‘You don’t  sound  terribly  impressed.’

‘It’s hard   to  be  impressed   at  this  time  of  the morning,’  she laughed.  ‘If you  were  going  to
  Ber
muda  maybe  . . .’

‘Are you from  Dublin?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Me too.’

Because they were delayed and there was nothing  else  to do,  the conversation lasted  quite  a while.

By take-off  Anna  had  decided  he was the one. They  chatted  easily as the  plane  whizzed  across
Ireland.

She could  barely  steal her eyes away  from  him. She was sorry  after  only forty  minutes  when  the
plane landed  at Dublin  airport.

They said goodbye.

Anna wondered if she’d ever see him again. She  did.

At the baggage  reclaim.

‘Sorry  for  bothering   you  again,’  he  suddenly appeared  at  her  side,  ‘but  I was  wondering  if by any  chance  you . . . ?’

‘Ye . . . es?’

‘Are you in Dublin  tonight?’

‘Er . . .’ she hesitated.

‘Listen, if I’m annoying  you I’ll bugger  o
ff. Hon
estly.’

‘No  you’re  not  er  . . . annoying  me  at  all.’ 
Far from  it!

‘So would  you  be on  for  meeting  up  and  doing something  maybe?’

‘Sure,’ she said easily. Why wouldn’t  she? He was divine.  An opportunity like this knocked  just once in a  lifetime.  If ever.

Although  a city centre hotel had been booked  for her  she  hadn’t  had  any  intention of staying  there anyway.  She’d actually  been planning  on spending a bit of time at home with her folks. Now  the room seemed like a  much  better  idea.

The family could  wait.

‘I’ll give you my mobile  number  just in case you change  your  mind  . . .’

‘Good idea,’ Anna said quickly,  knowing  there’d need to be a bloody good reason to make her change her  mind.  ‘Well, see you later  then.’

He was gone.

Was that  a dream?

Anna made her way through the sliding doors and past the crowd of onlookers staring at her hopefully with  their  cardboard signs. She always  felt almost guilty  for  not  being  the  person  they  were  looking to meet.

She queued  at  the  taxi  rank,  no  longer  feeling the  slightest  bit  tired.  Sure  wasn’t  it  great  to  be chatted  up  by such  a god-like  creature. Anna  was totally  flattered.   What   a  change   from  the  geeks who  normally took  a shine  to  her.  She wondered what  the  hell  his  bloody  name  was?  Wasn’t  that just typical  of  her to get a number  and  no name.

The  meeting  droned   on  endlessly.  Anna  stared at  the  flip  chart   nodding   every  now  and  again, pretending  to be interested.  She took  a look around the room  at the haggard  retail managers.  God, they were a miserable-looking bunch, she concluded. Did nobody   with  decent   looks  choose   retailing   as  a career?  Oh  well,  it  didn’t  matter   really.  She  was going to  ring  her  sexy  stranger  once  she  escaped this  dreary  old meeting.

BOOK: Mr Right for the Night
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