CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
‘Will we go for a cheap ’n’ cheerful dinner tonight, seeing as it’s payday, and have a chat about making a start on sorting our finances?’ Debbie ventured as she applied her eyeliner and caught Bryan looking at her ass in the mirror. They hadn’t had sex for a while, and she guessed he was feeling randy.
‘OK,’ he said sulkily. ‘Where do you want to go?’
‘The early bird in the Talbot 101, or Mario’s?’ she suggested.
‘Might as well meet in town, if we’re going for the early bird.’
‘101 then.’
‘Right, see ya there around six thirty,’ he agreed, picking up his mobile phone before heading downstairs.
‘OK, I’ll book a table,’ she called cheerfully, glad that there was a thaw of sorts.
It was typical, though, she thought twenty minutes later as she stood swaying on a crowded Dart. She had had to make the first move. God knows how long the ‘silence’ would have lasted if it had been left to Bryan. As long as they had been together he had never been the one to make up. It was just the way he was, she supposed. He’d been spoilt rotten as a child and, even now, Brona Kinsella couldn’t do enough for her much loved son. She should have her parents-in-law over to dinner one of these days, although she’d much prefer to have Connie. The train slowed into Tara Street, and she was pushed and shoved towards the exit before escaping on to the crowded platform.
Caitriona was going around the desks with the wages slips as Debbie hurried into the office. Even though Judith was out sick, none of them liked to be late, fearing that Caitriona would think they were taking advantage. ‘Hi, hon,’ her acting boss greeted her cheerily, ‘your envelope’s on your desk.’
‘It’s spent already unfortunately,’ Debbie sighed, pouring herself a cup of chilled water from the cooler. She didn’t even bother to look at her payslip, as her phone rang and someone on maternity leave began to bombard her with questions about tax relief.
It was a busy morning, and she was kept going, delaying her tea break until she had sorted a particularly complicated job-sharing query. Debbie drank her coffee and scoffed a Twix, wishing Connie was home so she could talk to her about Melissa.
Idly, she tore open her payslip and looked at the figures in the various columns. She glanced at her net payment, and her jaw dropped. She scanned right, to the top of the column, and saw that her gross figure and annual salary figures had increased. How come? She looked at the figures again, thinking it was a mistake. But no, she worked it out that the amount tallied with what her increment would be, had she got it when she was supposed to have. Had HR decided to give it to her for some reason? Should she say nothing, and take the money and run, so to speak? She was just leaving the canteen when Janice Harris, who ran HR, walked past her.
‘Um . . . Janice, I got extra money in my salary this week. Do you know anything about it?’
‘Oh hi, Debbie, yeah, I meant to say it to you. Judith rang me from the hospital and asked me to make sure you got your increment this week. Does it add up OK? Is there a problem?’ she asked matter-of-factly.
‘No . . . no . . . it’s fine.’ Debbie was gobsmacked. ‘Er, did you say Judith rang up about it?’
‘Yep, she felt she shouldn’t have withheld it, and I agree with her. You do a good job, Debbie.’ Janice smiled at her.
‘Thanks, Janice and um . . . if you’re talking to Judith, tell her thanks too.’
‘Will do,’ the other woman said.
Debbie couldn’t believe it. Judith Baxter had phoned from her sickbed to get her increment paid. She’d been sure the other woman would knife her if she got the chance after the altercation they’d had in the hospital. Maybe taking her courage in her hands and confronting Judith with her unacceptable behaviour would be good for both of them in the long run. Today was turning out much better than she’d expected. Debbie’s heart lifted as she walked back to her desk.
An unexpected pay rise, a conciliatory dinner with her husband, an olive branch from her detested boss – and her mum would be home at the weekend. Life was looking up again. She sat at her desk and began to work out which of their debts her increase would go towards paying off first. It had to be the car, but she was only going to tax it for three months, because they weren’t keeping it. She’d had a look at a few used-car ads. A second-hand Ford Focus wouldn’t be a bad buy, but how would Bryan feel, driving around in one? Wouldn’t really suit the image of successful businessman around town, but life wasn’t all about image and, if they wanted to avoid being declared bankrupt in Stubbs Gazette, they had to start downsizing, and that was the be all and end of it.
Bryan lay wide-eyed in the dark listening to Debbie’s even breathing as she slept curled up against him. They had gone for an early-bird dinner, and she’d been all excited about getting her pay rise. When he’d suggested they buy a bottle of bubbly to celebrate at home, she’d nixed the idea, saying the extra money was earmarked for the car tax.
Things were bad when they couldn’t even buy a bottle of bubbly, he thought glumly, wishing he could go asleep. As they’d drunk their coffee after their meal, she’d suggested totting up what they’d earned that week and allocating certain amounts for their various bills. By the time they’d covered everything, there was damn little left. Just enough to cover food, petrol and Dart fares. He had about eighty euro to last him until payday. He’d often spent eighty euro in the offie. The convertible was going to be traded in for some Dinky or other, but the extra money wouldn’t be going into their pockets, it would be paying off bloody debts.
Debbie had been so relieved that they’d finally knuckled down to addressing their financial issues. They’d opened a bottle of red wine when they got home and made love and she’d fallen asleep, happy.
Bryan sighed deeply. Was this to be the pattern of his life? Working to pay off debts, a cheap meal and a bottle of wine and a shag on a Friday night? A life of grim, unremitting boredom. He wasn’t going to be able to hack it, he just knew it. He loved Debbie, it was hard not to love someone who loved you wholeheartedly, and she had, up until now, given him a free rein to indulge his carefree lifestyle.
Getting married was the biggest mistake he’d ever made. He should have taken the out Debbie had offered him before their wedding, when his reservations had begun to show. He’d had the chance, and he hadn’t taken it, and now he felt trapped, as he’d never felt before. It was almost dawn before he finally fell into a fitful sleep, which afforded him no comfort at all.
Her grass needed cutting, Connie observed as Debbie drove them up the drive on her return from Spain. She’d do it some afternoon next week after work. Work! It was hard to believe that her holiday was over and she was starting a new job. Still, it was nice to come home, and she was dying to see Miss Hope. As if reading her thoughts, a black streak shot down over the garage roof, and the cat stood standing at the front door meowing in greeting. Connie raced out of the car and picked up her little pet, delighting in their joyful reunion. ‘It’s lovely to come home to someone,’ she said to Debbie as her daughter lugged her case into the hall.
‘You came home to me,’ Debbie said indignantly.
‘Yeah, but you’ll be leaving me,’ Connie teased. ‘Miss Hope and I will grow old disgracefully together.’
‘Well, you certainly don’t look old. You look fantastic. You got a great colour.’
‘I walked on the beach a lot early in the morning or in the evenings. It was scorching over there.’
‘I’ve loads of news for you, Mum. Why don’t you have a quick shower and get into a tracksuit, it’s feckin’ freezing today. I’ll have supper ready when you come down,’ she offered.
‘OK,’ agreed Connie. ‘I don’t know what it is about airports, but you always feel manky after travelling.’ Upstairs, her bed looked really inviting. She yawned as she pulled off her white cut-offs and black T-shirt. At least she had everything ready for her early start the next morning. Her new uniform, a dress, as requested by Mrs Mansfield, was hanging on the back of the door, and her white cap and shoes were on top of the chest of drawers.
She was tired after travelling but the holiday itself had thoroughly refreshed her, and she’d enjoyed every minute of it – apart from the nasty little episode with Ken Davenport. She wondered how Juliet was getting on. She’d give her a call some time in the week.
Twenty minutes later, she was sitting down to a tasty supper of prawn salad, coleslaw, tomatoes, peppers and nutty brown bread.
‘Scrumptious,’ she murmured appreciatively, as she chewed a succulent fat prawn.
‘Got them in Cavistons,’ Debbie said, pouring each of them a mug of tea.
‘So what’s your news? Are you preggers?’ Connie asked after she took a welcome slug of tea.
‘Wash your mouth out,’ Debbie admonished. ‘No, I’m not. But Melissa and I came down to visit Miss Hope, and she was very upset and told me that Dad and Aimee were talking of getting divorced. What do you think of that? She overheard them having a row.’
‘Ah, the poor little moppet, that’s horrible for her,’ Connie exclaimed. ‘As it happens, your dad told me about the divorce thing, he rang me to tell me that you were bringing Melissa down. He was really chuffed about that. And he mentioned about the divorce and told me he might be looking for a bed and a place to stay,’ Connie said dryly.
‘Oh crikey! What did you say to that?’
‘Nothing, absolutely nothing,’ Connie retorted, and Debbie grinned at the vehemence in her voice.
‘It will be a bummer for Melissa if they do get divorced, although it wouldn’t bother me a bit.’ Debbie cut a slice of tea-brack and slathered it with butter. ‘Do you want some?’ she offered.
‘I shouldn’t. I ate all round me on holidays – that’s why I did so much walking. I don’t want to gain even more weight,’ Connie demurred.
‘Talking of weight, Mum, something awful’s come up, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I need your advice,’ Debbie said earnestly.
‘What’s that?’
‘I think Melissa’s developing an eating problem. She’s lost loads of weight, and we had a Chinese here last week, and she was chewing and spitting out her food. I saw it when I was clearing up afterwards. I didn’t actually notice her doing it, and that’s even more worrying, that she’s practised at it.’
‘Are you sure? Maybe she didn’t like it and was too polite to say?’ Connie put her knife and fork down, dismayed.
‘I don’t think so. And I want to be really careful here, because she’s starting to trust me, telling me about the row and everything, so I don’t want her to think I’m talking about her behind her back. She’ll never tell me anything otherwise and, I know it’s hard to believe after the way I’ve been towards her over the years, but I’m actually beginning to feel protective of her,’ Debbie admitted sheepishly.
‘Ah, Debbie, that’s wonderful to hear,’ Connie said warmly. ‘It’s something your dad and I have always wanted for you both. Blood is thicker than water at the end of the day, and a good relationship with a sister is a great blessing.’
‘We had a really nice time, actually. We sang our heads off the whole way down. What should I do about it, Mum?’
‘We’ll keep a good eye on her. I’ll invite the two of you down to dinner next week and we’ll see if it happens again and, if it does, I’ll have a word with your father about it,’ Connie suggested.
‘OK, that’s a good idea. Thanks, Mum, you’re the best. Now tell me all about the holidays. Did you meet any fine things?’
‘Sure did,’ grinned Connie. ‘There was a nudist beach not far from where Juliet lives – but wait until I tell you the news about the Davenports!’ Connie exclaimed as she got up and refilled the kettle to make another cup of tea.
It was after eleven before Debbie left, and after midnight before Connie fell asleep. At least she didn’t have a long commute, she comforted herself, as she stood at her breakfast counter, showered and dressed, at 7 a.m. the following morning gulping hot tea.
There was a foggy mist when she set off. It was almost autumnal, she thought in dismay, even though it was only the beginning of August, hating the thought of dark mornings and short days. She pulled her little blue cardigan on and made her way to her new job.
The back door was open and she let herself into the kitchen. Fiona, the night nurse, was making porridge. Jessie had introduced them before she went away on holidays.
‘Hi Connie – look at the colour of you, ya lucky thing,’ Fiona greeted her. ‘I’m just making the porridge for Mrs Mansfield; she always has it in bed with tea and toast at eight thirty. Then you’ll help her wash, or bathe if she prefers, help her dress, give her her medication and, basically, that’s all the nursing duties that are required. Her Parkinson’s is not too severe. She reads her paper and does her crossword – but she’ll need you to fill in the clues for her – and then she has lunch around twelve thirty and her meds again. Sometimes she has a walk, sometimes she likes to go for a drive down to see her horses, or she might go for a nap, depending on how she’s slept. It varies, and then Jessie comes in at two, and off you go. She’s a great patient really, but she does like her routines and is most particular about taking her medication at the correct time every day. Just remember that, and you’ll do fine,’ the other nurse said reassuringly.
‘It’s weird wearing a dress and cap again,’ Connie remarked as she took the mug of tea the other girl offered. ‘Trousers are so handy.’
‘I know, but she can’t stand nurses in trousers and blames the lack of the veil and cap for all sorts of bugs, including MRSA,’ Fiona laughed. ‘She has some funny little notions, but she’s as sharp as a button, and woe betide anyone who thinks otherwise.’ She gave the porridge a final stir. ‘Right, I’m off. Good luck on your first day. I think you’ll enjoy it,’ she said. ‘Make yourself at home – there’s plenty of food in the fridge if you want a bacon sanger or anything. You met Rita, the housekeeper – she’ll be in around eight fifteen. Just have Mrs Mansfield’s breakfast up to her at eight thirty sharp.’
‘No problem,’ Connie said cheerfully. If this was to be her routine, it would be a doddle compared to the backbreaking shifts she’d often endured, and well worth the drop in pay. She was right to go part time, she assured herself; she’d worked hard all her life and, now that Debbie was reared and the wedding was over, it was time to take life easier.
The morning passed quite quickly, by the time breakfast, bathing and dressing were over and Mrs Mansfield was settled at her crossword. Her new employer had a lively mind, and they’d had some interesting discussions.
‘Now Connie, I look at the crossword first and, when I’m ready, I’ll ring the bell and you can fill in the clues I can answer. Then I’ll have a look at the more difficult ones and call you again. Go down now and have your tea break and make sure Rita gives you one of her scones. They’re very, very tasty,’ Mrs Mansfield instructed.
‘Thanks, I will and, in the meantime, if you need me, ring your bell,’ Connie said kindly.
‘I don’t believe in having my nurses as slaves to the bell,’ Mrs Mansfield said firmly. ‘I’m not in my dotage yet. And the shakes aren’t too bad, so have your tea and enjoy it. I’m very pleased with you; I knew we’d get on well. Just put the cat on my knee before you go, I always concentrate much better when I’m stroking her.’
Connie gently lifted Mittens, a little marmalade tabby, on to her patient’s lap and saw a smile of contentment spread over the old lady’s face. ‘Go, go.’ She waved Connie away gently and settled back to peruse her crossword, which was securely placed on a reading frame.
‘Connie, tell Drew our lives won’t be worth living if he doesn’t call up and see her ladyship,’ Rita said the minute she walked into the kitchen.
‘Oh hi.’ Connie smiled at the tall man who was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded. ‘Our lives won’t be worth living if you don’t go up and see her ladyship,’ she parroted obediently. ‘I thought Friday was your visiting day.’
‘I couldn’t come on Friday. But I did ring her. One of her horses foaled, so I took a photo of it and said I’d drop it in when I was passing by. I’m in a small bit of hurry, and she’ll want me to have tea with her, and I don’t like refusing her,’ Drew explained.
‘ ’Cos you’re a big softy,’ Rita teased.
‘Don’t listen to her, Connie, I’m as hard as nails. Did you have a good holiday? You’ve a good colour.’ Drew’s eyes lingered over her, and she wished she were a stone lighter.
‘The weather was fabulous,’ she sighed, at what was now almost a distant memory. ‘I heard it rained a lot here; the grass was up to my ass when I got home.’
‘And have you a big garden?’ He arched an eyebrow at her, his blue eyes studying her intently.
‘Big enough for the old crock of a lawnmower I have. I’ll have muscles like Popeye by the time it’s cut.’ She poured herself a cup of coffee, thinking how tanned he was without even leaving the county, let alone the country.
‘Where do you live? You’re local, aren’t you? I have a John Deere that mulches, so there’s no emptying involved. I’ll throw it in the trailer and do it in jig time for you?’ he offered.
‘Ah God no, I wouldn’t put you out,’ Connie exclaimed, flustered.
‘You won’t be putting me out at all,’ he said crisply. ‘Give me a time that suits, and your address, and I’ll be there. Who knows when I might need a splinter removed, or a wasp sting or worse, and you can return the favour.’
‘Are you sure?’ She was mortified, cursing herself for having mentioned it in the first place and having exaggerated the grass’s growth in the second.
‘Certain.’
She told him the address, and he pulled a piece of paper out of his jeans pocket. ‘Give me your mobile number, just in case anything happens that I can’t make it,’ he ordered. She rattled it off, conscious of Rita grinning at her as Drew wrote it down.
‘Better go. Here’s the photo for Mrs M.’ He handed her a colour photo of the most adorable jet-black foal.
‘Oh it’s gorgeous!’ Connie exclaimed.
‘Drop by any time to see her,’ Drew invited. ‘I’m sure you’ll be bringing herself to visit anyway.’
‘Drew, you’ll have to go up with it. You know the way she’s mad about you,’ Rita insisted.
‘The foolish woman.’ He grimaced. ‘I’ll go up for five minutes, but no tea, no matter what she says,’ he warned.
‘Why don’t you give me your mobile number, and I’ll ring you after ten minutes and you can pretend there’s an emergency at the stables,’ Connie suggested.
‘Brains as well as beauty, a rare combination.’ He smiled and wrote his number down for her. ‘Five minutes, max,’ he cautioned sternly.
‘Aye aye, sir,’ Connie saluted, amused at his bossiness.
‘Sorry,’ he apologized. ‘But I am in a rush.’
Mrs Mansfield was delighted when she heard Drew had called. ‘Bring up tea and scones,’ she instructed Connie when she showed him into her sitting room.
‘Now, Mrs Mansfield, this is just a flying visit, I’m in an awful hurry. I just wanted to drop you in a photo of the foal,’ Drew said firmly as he bent his cheek for her kiss. He was a kind man, and gentle with the old lady, Connie thought approvingly.
‘Sit down there now and tell me all the news. The tea will be here in a minute,’ Mrs Mansfield instructed, as pleased as punch. Connie made her way back down to the kitchen, grinning inwardly at the look of pleading Drew had thrown her. Rita had the tea made, the tray was set, and a plate of buttered scones was at the ready. ‘It won’t take him five minutes to scoff one of these and drink a little cup of tea,’ she declared. ‘Do you want to bring them up?’
‘No, you do it – don’t forget I’ve to ring him to let on there’s an emergency.’
‘Are you sure? I think he fancies you,’ Rita said wickedly, eyes twinkling.
‘Ha ha, I think you’ve a vivid imagination. You go,’ Connie said, as she topped up her coffee.
‘We’ll see,’ said Rita smugly as she lifted the tray off the counter and hurried out of the kitchen. ‘I bet he’ll ask you out.’
‘Don’t hold your breath,’ Connie called after her. She sat down at the table and stretched. The morning was flying, she thought, as she glanced at her watch. It was great to think she’d be finished in a couple of hours. The rest of the afternoon was hers. Should she try and cut the grass herself, so that when Drew called she wouldn’t waste his time? It would be a bit churlish if she did, she supposed. What on earth had made her open her big mouth?
‘He’s going mad up there,’ Rita chuckled. ‘You better make the phone call in a minute or so, or he’ll never speak to me again. He’s always in a rush, that fella.’
Connie took her phone out of her bag and dialled the number he’d written down for her.
‘Hello?’ His voice came strong and clear down the line.
‘You’ve an emergency at your stables. What it is I’m not sure exactly, you can make it up yourself,’ she said, trying not to laugh.
‘Thanks very much, I’ll be right there,’ he said briskly, and hung up.
Two minutes later he was in the kitchen. ‘Thanks for the tea, Rita. Thanks for the phone call, Connie. Have you decided what day suits you for me to cut the grass?’ He looked at her.
‘Tomorrow? Wednesday? What suits you?’ she hedged.
‘Tomorrow’s fine. Two thirty. See you then. Bye, ladies,’ he said, and then he was gone, striding out to his jeep and glancing at his watch in barely suppressed exasperation.
‘A man in a hurry,’ Connie murmured.
‘He’s never any other way. He’s a workaholic, if you ask me,’ Rita remarked, chopping vegetables at high speed.
‘And who’d want to be involved with one of them?’ Connie drained her mug. ‘Not me for sure.’
What on earth was wrong with him, going around offering to cut strange women’s lawns, Drew pondered as he drove along the narrow road that led to Mrs Mansfield’s. Surely he had enough work of his own to be doing. His offer had popped out almost before he’d known it. He could see Connie was embarrassed. He should have kept his big mouth shut. Drew sighed as his mobile rang and the Bluetooth clicked in.
‘Drew, it’s Marianna.’ An unwelcome voice crackled down the line.
‘Yes, Marianna, what is it?’ He could hardly conceal his impatience or his distaste.
‘I have a favour to ask. As you know, my dad’s in hospital, but Mama needs the car tomorrow, she has to see a chiropodist. Would you be able to drop me up to Blackrock, and she’ll drive up later? I wouldn’t ask, only that he’s seeing his cardiologist tomorrow and he’s asked me to be there.’
For crying out loud, leave me alone, woman, Drew wanted to roar at her, but he suppressed the impulse and said stiffly, ‘I’m very tied for time tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at eight thirty sharp. Take it or leave it.’
‘Thanks, Drew, that’s wonderful. You’re the best,’ Marianna gushed.
‘Eight thirty then,’ he reiterated, and hung up. She had such a nerve, he fumed. How he wished he could have told her to get lost. But she was the mother of his daughters and she was in a fix, and he’d been reared to do a good turn if someone was stuck. That was it, though, he swore as he drove into the stables, to see that the farrier was already there.
‘Sorry for keeping you, Mick,’ he apologized. ‘I got delayed. I called into Mrs Mansfield’s with a photo of her new foal, and of course she had to offer me tea.’
‘I hear there’s a fine-looking new nurse started out there this morning. The postman was telling me all about her. Divorced, too, but I’m not fussy,’ the old bachelor cackled.
‘News travels fast, Mick.’ Drew followed him into his own horse, Marino’s, stall.
‘Would I have a chance, d’you think?’
‘Don’t ask me – what do I know about women only that they’re trouble,’ Drew said grumpily, stroking his horse’s neck as the farrier held its hind leg up for inspection.
What would she wear for her trip to Dublin with Drew? Marianna flicked through the items in her wardrobe. Something smart, elegant and sexy. The sun was shining, for once, she noted as the early morning light filtered through the folds in the net curtains. Why her mother wouldn’t get blinds she could not understand.
She took out a pair of red linen trousers and a floral halterneck top and tried it on. Bit too casual if she was meeting a consultant, she thought regretfully. Red was good on her.
She tried on a pair of white trousers with a black cami and white jacket. Perfect, she decided. She could slip off the jacket in the car, and he could have the pleasure of looking at her perfect, pert boobs. She was so glad she’d had them done. They’d started to droop and, as they had drooped, so had her spirits. Middle age would be held at bay come hell or high water was her motto, and Edward had plenty of money.
She applied her make-up with extra care, smoothing the foundation over her serum, admiring her collagen-enhanced lips as she did so. She wondered, yet again, had Drew a woman in his life. He hadn’t brought anyone to Katy’s wedding. But that had been ages ago. Marianna expertly applied a set of false eyelashes. She didn’t look a day over thirty-five, she congratulated herself.
Her ex-husband arrived at eight thirty precisely and beeped on the horn. That was a bit rude. Marianna frowned. Surely he could have knocked at the door and said hello to her mother.
‘Morning,’ he said as he leaned over and pushed open the door of the jeep for her. She tried not to wrinkle her nose as she stepped up into it. It was mucky and dusty, although he’d obviously wiped the black leather seat for her. White was not the ideal colour to be wearing in Drew’s jeep.
‘Thanks so much for this.’ She tried the effusive-gratitude tack.
‘You’re welcome.’ He hardly gave her time to fasten her seatbelt before he was racing down the drive, staring straight ahead.
‘So what have you got on today that has you so busy?’ she asked chattily.
‘This and that,’ he said offhandedly.
‘What time do you have to be back?’ she persisted, eyeing him from beneath her lashes. His jaw jutted straight out as it did when he was annoyed, she remembered.
‘I’m dropping you off and coming straight back.’
‘Oh dear,’ she sighed. ‘I was hoping you could stay until after the consultant’s been. If I get bad news about Dad I’ll be devastated.’
‘What time are you seeing him at?’ Drew flashed an irritable look in her direction.
‘Two. I thought we might have a bite of lunch together beforehand, and then I’d see what’s up.’
‘Sorry, I can’t stay for lunch. I’ve made an arrangement with a friend of mine. She’s expecting me at two thirty,’ Drew said flatly.
‘Oh . . . is she a good friend? Are you seeing someone?’ She couldn’t contain her curiosity, and this was a perfect opportunity to ask the question casually.
‘Marianna, my business is my business, and your business is your business. I’ve no desire to know about your life, and I’ve no desire to tell you about mine. Let’s leave it at that.’ He was so cold still. So bitter.
‘I was only making polite conversation,’ she retorted.
‘No need,’ he said curtly, as he overtook a combine harvester.
Marianna bounced up and down on her seat as he flew over a pothole and hoped she wouldn’t lose her breakfast as well as her chance to win her ex-husband over. Now she was going to be stuck up in Dublin hours too early. And her plans for an intimate lunch and a chance to draw him back into her life had come to nothing.
She tried several times to make conversation as they sped towards the city, but he gave terse, monosyllabic answers, and she desisted eventually, knowing she was banging her head off the proverbial brick wall. And he was built like a brick wall, she thought admiringly, noting his lean, flat stomach and the muscles in his arms and shoulders. The familiar musky clean scent of him when he’d leaned across her to pick up the phone that she’d knocked out of the hands-free with her handbag had brought back vivid memories of how, in the early days of their marriage, he would grab her as soon as he was home from work and kiss her with a passion.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed with a passion, she thought disconsolately as the traffic became heavier and they slowed to a halt at Cornelscourt. They’d be at the clinic in another ten to fifteen minutes, and she’d have lost her chance. What could she do? Marianna racked her brains. A gift voucher. She’d get him a gift voucher to thank him for the lift and drop it over to him in the stables. She’d never been there, and it would give her the chance to have a look around. The girls were always raving about his house and the view from their bedrooms. Perfect, she thought happily. The gift might defrost him a bit. Because defrost him she would, this summer, Marianna decided, as Drew yawned behind his hand and pointedly ignored her.