Three Wise Men, page 26
‘And have you come to congratulate me?’ she manages, after a spiky pause.
‘Of course, roses for the rose in bloom,’ he gestures expansively towards his bouquet.
There’s another pause during which they gauge each other.
‘It’s not your baby, Jack.’ She takes the initiative.
He raises a bantering eyebrow. The man’s enjoying this, he’s a slug, thinks Gloria.
Eimear’s well rid of him, Kate too.
‘I mean, technically it is but you’re not really the father. It has no father, there’s only me.’
She wishes forlornly that she could control her skin, fiery patches are flaring on her neck.
‘Only you,’ he repeats, although it doesn’t sound like he’s agreeing with her.
He gulps the remainder of his drink.
‘Any chance of a refill?’
‘I’m afraid that’s the last of the bottle,’ she fibs. Then she seizes her courage. ‘Anyway, aren’t you driving?’
‘Such a sensible creature,’ he remarks, running a finger along the lunar contours of the glass. It’s Tyrone crystal, a wedding present. ‘I’ll have a coffee then, since you’re so touchingly worried about the guards catching me.’
She longs to order him to leave but instead finds herself in the kitchen digging out some beans from the bottom of the fridge – Jack O’Brien doesn’t look like an instant coffee sort of man.
Gloria looks up and he’s standing in the open doorway, watching her; she’s caught off-guard and drops the coffee, she didn’t hear him pad along the passage in his bare feet.
‘You never struck me as the nervous type.’ He watches her retrieve the packet.
She occupies herself with the grinder, uncomfortably aware that he’s studying her every move.
Jack sprawls at the kitchen table, feet resting on the supports of a chair. Still grinning – doesn’t his jaw ache with all that smirking? He’s removed his jacket and she’s aware of the curly dark chest hair at the base of his throat. It’s spilling out above the open buttons on his shirt and she smells a lemon scent; not aftershave, not deodorant. It must be Jack.
‘Well, Jack, what can I do for you?’ Her nonchalance is assumed.
‘Nothing,’ he replies, just as airily. ‘I just wanted to check up on you. Is it true you and Mick are splitting up?’
‘Your spies have been busy. Yes, we are.’
‘And does he know who the baby’s father is?’
‘No, and I’d like to keep it that way.’
‘What about Eimear?’
‘Ditto.’
‘You don’t look pregnant, baby girl.’ His eyes glint as they roam over her.
There’s invitation in them and a gleam of something else, another emotion she can’t quite pinpoint.
Unexpectedly he stands up. ‘I won’t detain you, I just wanted to let you know I’m here for you if there’s anything you need.’
She makes an effort and composes her face into an agreeable expression.
‘There’s nothing I need, thanks all the same. I’m grateful you helped me out when I was at my wits’ end and, though I don’t mean to sound ungracious, I think we should leave it at that. All there is between us is that we have Eimear in’ common – and we won’t even have that much if she gets wind of what we’ve been at.’
‘Partners in crime,’ he remarks.
Gloria cements her lips together.
He regards her thoughtfully. ‘She forgave Kate.’
‘So she did, but somehow I don’t think she could forgive me. It’s one thing to have it off with your husband but another matter altogether to have a baby by him.’
‘You have a point.’
The hall-light is shining directly on his thick dark hair now, highlighting russet strands, as he pulls on his footwear. Gloria realises she’s unconsciously admiring it and turns away.
Jack looms directly over Gloria. His eyes return to her stomach and she feels it somersault. The baby’s not supposed to move yet, it’s too soon. He leans towards her cheek to kiss it, she looks down quickly and he skims the top of her head. As he straightens, a hand reaches out and strokes her stomach.
‘Stop that!’ she shrieks.
Jack steps back, dazed. It’s the first time she’s seen him wrong-footed.
‘It’s my baby, mine, not yours,’ Gloria howls, pushing him towards the door.
God in heaven, what came over her, she pants as soon as she’s alone. Talk about overreacting.
‘Get a grip, Gloria,’ she instructs herself, sitting on the bottom stair. The adrenaline has ebbed and she feels too weak to walk into the living room. She hears the phone ring but can’t summon the energy to answer it. It rings off and immediately starts shrilling again. Its noise is an imperative: she totters in and lifts the receiver.
‘Gloria? Thank heavens you answered. I was worried about you. Kate told me you were stopping in tonight and I couldn’t understand why there was no reply.’
It’s Eimear.
‘I must have dozed off,’ Gloria mumbles.
‘Listen, I’ve great news – Christy took me to see the perfect cottage in Dundrum, I’m putting in an offer on it on Monday. It’s an executor’s sale, it’s only just gone on the market and it’s simply gorgeous.’
‘Great,’ says Gloria; Eimear’s so caught up in her dream home she doesn’t notice the dearth of enthusiasm.
‘It has three bedrooms – well, two and a cupboard – and an enormous kitchen with an inglenook fireplace, flagged floor and exposed beams. The bathroom’s on the poky side but I might be able to knock it through to the landing to add more space.’
She rambles on about her view of the mountains; Gloria only half-listens until she’s pulled up short. ‘And the baby could have the cupboard-sized room and …’
‘What baby, Eimear?’
‘Yours, silly, how many babies do we have?’
She’s won her full attention now. ‘Eimear, why would my baby want your spare bedroom? You’re surely not planning sleepovers already, I’m only a few months gone.’
‘Gloria, have you been listening to a word I’ve said? The cottage is perfect for the three of us, you, me and the bump. You’re being incredibly brave having the baba on your own and I can’t find a word low enough to describe Mick for leaving you in the lurch. But you don’t have to go through it on your own, Glo, I want you to come and live with me and I’ll lend a hand any way I can with the baby.’
If she only knew, laughs Gloria. It sounds suspiciously like one of those hollow laughs you read about but never actually hear.
‘What’s so funny? Don’t you like my brilliant idea, Glo?’ Eimear’s voice is hurt.
‘Not much,’ she admits. ‘We tried living together before, it was a lethal combination.’
‘It would be different with a baby.’ Her tone is eager. ‘You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for as a single parent – all those dawn feeds and grungy bottles to clean, and the teething and the nappies and there’s the loneliness too. Single parents never meet anybody, it’s a two-dimensional life.’
‘You make it sound so desirable,’ Gloria jokes.
‘Well of course it’s not all bad, there are compensations, but it would be easier with both of us – we’d be company for each other and there’d be more money to go around and …’ She hesitates, her voice lowers: ‘I’d like to share your baby, Glo, truly I would.’
‘What about Christy? He’s not going to like his seduction scenes interrupted by squawks from the baby monitor.’
‘Never mind Christy, I can handle him.’
‘But he won’t be able to handle you, not with a baby in the way,’ Gloria points out.
‘Just because you’ve had a few dates and done a bit of house-hunting with a fellow doesn’t mean you have to plan your entire life around him. I like him, he’s been extremely helpful, but I’m not intending to grow old with him.’
‘He must be expecting some kind of reward for all this house-hunting, Eimear. The man would need to be a martyr just to do it from the goodness of his heart.’
‘He can expect all he likes.’
Eimear turns huffy and rings off, having extracted a promise from Gloria to inspect her cottage.
Gloria needs a treat: she clatters upstairs to the bedroom, roots around in her underwear drawer and extracts a tissue-wrapped oblong. It’s a christening robe; she had her wedding dress cut into one the year she started trying for a baby. She took to keeping the robe at the bottom of her underwear drawer for ease of access and because she knew it was the one place Mick would never stumble across it. You don’t ransack the frillies of a woman you have zero interest in bedding. She doesn’t have to hide the christening robe any more now that Mick’s gone but habits die hard. He went ballistic when he saw her with it once, he called it tempting providence.
Comfort seeps into her from the ivory silk cloth she holds against her face. Its tiny perfection gladdens her like an embrace: lace collar, lace cuffs, adorable skullcap. She imagines her son wearing it, like one of those ancient-eyed infants that peek from gloomy oil paintings. She brings it to her nose and inhales its soothing fragrance. Not a baby scent yet but soon.
CHAPTER 32
‘You first,’ Kate jostles Eimear.
‘No, you,’ she elbows her back.
‘Gloria then,’ Kate suggests.
Eimear is indignant. ‘Kate McGlade, it was your idea to traipse out to Ashbourne to see this Mrs Gilmartin. We’re here now so get out of the car and ring her doorbell, isn’t the woman expecting us.’
Reluctantly Kate steps out, muttering, ‘I vas only following orders,’ and approaches the door of a fifties semi with a cherry tree in the front garden. Before she touches the bell, the door is opened by a benevolent-faced woman in her sixties.
‘Come in, my dears, I’ve been watching you sitting out there in the car for the past ten minutes. Don’t worry, most people are nervous the first time.’
She ushers the trio into the sitting room, where a blonde girl of five is watching Disney’s The Little Mermaid on video.
‘That’s Ariel,’ the child indicates the heroine. ‘Her hair is the same colour as yours.’ She looks at Kate.
‘Mine’s shorter,’ replies Kate, touching her newly shorn crop of red hair diffidently.
The little blonde one examines her. ‘It might grow,’ she says.
‘Are you all right, Michelle?’ asks Mrs Gilmartin. ‘You don’t mind these ladies watching your video with you until I take them into the kitchen for Granny’s special business?’
Michelle shakes her head and returns her attention to the television set, already bored by the intruders.
‘Now, who’d like to start?’ Mrs Gilmartin waits while they shuffle their feet. She homes in on Kate. ‘How about you, dear, will you follow me down to the kitchen?’
Eimear and Gloria sit on a crimson velour sofa as Ariel sells her voice to the sea-witch in return for a pair of legs.
‘I’m going to Copenhagen to see the Little Mermaid statue one day,’ says Eimear.
‘Everyone needs an ambition,’ replies Gloria.
‘Where’s Coping-that-word?’ pipes up Michelle, who’s wearing orange fleecy pyjamas with bunny rabbits cavorting on them.
‘It’s in Denmark, that’s a country a long way from here,’ says Eimear. ‘It’s about the same size as Ireland, except they’re clean and don’t throw chip wrappers on the street.’
‘Do they have real mermaids there?’ Michelle’s interest is sparked.
‘Yes.’
‘And princes?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Eimear turns to Gloria for clarification. ‘Does Denmark have a royal family?’
‘I think so, isn’t it that country where the royals cycle around and behave like ordinary people?’
‘No, that’s Holland. Of course it might be Denmark too. Yes they have princes,’ she tells Michelle.
‘Then I’m going there to marry one when I grow up,’ announces the child, and returns to her video.
‘Are you nervous, Glo?’
‘As a kitten. Do you think she’ll realise I’m pregnant? I don’t show.’
‘If she doesn’t she’s in the wrong game,’ says Eimear.
‘Kate seems to be taking her time.’
‘Did you tell Christy where you were coming?’
‘Catch a grip, I don’t want him thinking I’m any more mental than he has me already pegged for – as it is he says I’m not Al mental health.’
‘What are you?’
‘A-flawed. Apparently that’s quite sound for a woman – Christy has this theory that none of us are AL’
‘And of course men are,’ Gloria snaps. ‘He sounds a right one, your lover boy.’
‘He’s not my lover boy, he’s a friend.’
‘Aha, so you still haven’t done the dirty deed. He’s patient, I’ll grant him that. You see, men have some advantages over Beautiful Boys – you’d never get a BB to hang around for a few months while you dither over whether or not to admit him to the delights of your body.’
Eimear half-smiles as she confesses: ‘Actually, I have decided. Well, not exactly to sleep with him, to be guided by whatever Mrs Gilmartin says. If she’s in favour of my tall dark stranger, then it’s portals of bliss time. And if she says I have a malignant dark presence in my life, it’s adios amigo.’
‘What’s a dirty deed?’ pipes up Michelle.
Eimear looks startled. ‘It’s something nasty, you don’t want to hear about it.’
‘I do,’ protests Michelle.
‘No you don’t. So you live with your granny, do you?’
‘Mammy’s gone away so I sleep in Granny’s bed now.’
‘What about your daddy?’ Gloria enquires gently. ‘I haven’t got a daddy.’
She thinks of her own baby. ‘Would you like one?’
Michelle considers. ‘Maybe. Granny says the two of us rub along together very well as we are but Daddies buy nice presents, Louise at school told me. She’s my friend, I have two friends, Louise and Justin.’
‘Which do you like best?’ asks Eimear.
‘I like them both the same. Louise can make a loud noise with her knuckles and Justin can ride his bike the fastest, he wants to be a pizza delivery man when he grows up.’
‘You’re next, Mulligan.’
Kate flops down on the sofa on the space vacated by Eimear and rolls her eyes at Gloria when she mouths, ‘Any good?’
‘Magic,’ she whispers. ‘I’ll tell you all about it later.’ She transfers her attention to Michelle. ‘Have you any other videos?’
The two of them chat about The Lion King – Kate’s comfortable with kids, she has a niece and a nephew, unlike the others – and Gloria thinks about what revelations Mrs Gilmartin might have in store. She’s carrying a notebook in her bag so she can write down everything, otherwise she’ll never remember the half of it. Eimear is back quicker than Kate and Gloria is on her feet and out the door before she’s even taken her seat on the crimson velour.
Mrs Gilmartin is smoking at her kitchen table. ‘I’ll be with you in a moment, dear, as soon as I finish this. It helps me switch off between readings,’ she smiles.
‘Take your time.’ Gloria’s eyes travel around the neat little kitchen. There are a few pots of herbs on the windowsill, Gloria recognises parsley and rosemary, mint too. There’s a splashy red and blue painting of a house attached to the fridge by a magnet, obviously Michelle’s handiwork.
Mrs Gilmartin stubs out her cigarette, carries the ashtray over to the sink and returns to her place opposite Gloria. ‘First I’ll read the cards and then I’ll look at your palm.’ She handles an ordinary deck, not the Tarot cards Gloria is expecting.
‘Do you mind if I take notes?’ Gloria produces her pad.
‘Work away, whatever suits you suits me.’ Mrs Gilmartin reaches her the cards. ‘Now I want you to give these a good shuffle, choose half a dozen cards and place them face-down on the table in the order you pick them.’
She follows instructions, shuffling clumsily – it’s years since she had a pack of cards in her hands, it reminds her of playing pontoon for buttons with Marlene and Rudy. Mammy confiscated the deck when Rudy had them substituting pennies for buttons.
When the six cards are isolated from the deck, Mrs Gilmartin asks her to hand the top one to her.
‘Your life is going through a huge change, almost an upheaval,’ she says. ‘Have you recently moved house or switched jobs? No? Well, if it hasn’t started, the change is just about to begin. Everything you’ve known for the past decade or more is about to be turned on its head.
‘Don’t be nervous, people need change, it keeps us on our toes. Take it easy though, be kind to yourself, don’t get frustrated if it isn’t all plain sailing and don’t try to do too much at once.’
Gloria reaches over the second card.
‘Your health hasn’t been great for a while, dear; have you had an operation recently?’
‘I had an ectopic pregnancy nearly a year ago.’
‘Yes, I see a sadness in your life. I see lots of hospital visits in the past, sorrow attached to them, and more hospital visits in the future. There is trouble ahead but don’t lose heart, everything will work out for the best.’
Gloria is anxious. ‘Is there unhappiness attached to the future hospital visits?’
‘I can’t see, dear, but I do see you going through the doors of a hospital. You’re walking beside a dark-haired man, you’re not on a stretcher, which is a positive sign.’
Mrs Gilmartin peers over the top of her glasses, shrewd eyes taking in the wan face opposite.
‘You mustn’t neglect your health, dear, you owe it to your body to take care of it. It’s a machine that needs maintenance. I start every day with a solid cooked breakfast. There’s no use making do with a cup of tea and half a slice of toast.’
Gloria hands her the third card.
‘This is the money card,’ she explains. ‘You’ve recently come into an inheritance but it’s already earmarked for a purpose, you won’t be using it for a holiday or new furniture. I don’t see a lot of money surrounding you but you’ll never be destitute. You’ll have to work hard for your funds, dear, like all of us. Beware of bad financial advice.’
