February 13 – Friday
Amanda had to do it. She had to front it out, if only to see what they knew, or if they knew anything at all. She marched into the Berkley Plaza wearing a navy blazer that was almost vintage, by Clarissa’s standards. It was fifteen years since she’d fitted into it. A size twelve, hardly Twiggy, but it was a timeless design and she teamed it with a pair of fitted jeans, a Gap T-shirt and an oversized scarf she’d picked up for a song. It was amazing what a month of not being able to face a cream bun could do for you. This time, when she caught sight of her reflection in the plate glass she felt herself relax into a contented easy space within herself. It had more to do with how she was feeling about herself than it had to do with her appearance, but she had to confess that it didn’t do her confidence any damage to feel she was looking much better than she had only a few weeks earlier.
‘We thought you’d abandoned us, darling,’ Nicola said, air-kissing her when she arrived.
‘Sorry, it’s just been so busy. I’ve been invited onto the Love Dublin committee, so…’ it wasn’t exactly a lie. Carlos – the Italian love god – was transforming the square and she was helping out. She had spent the last few days clearing out beds and setting in spring bulbs that were already near full bloom. It was doing her good, her complexion was clear, her eyes were bright and each night she slept soundly, far better than she had for a very long time. Had she been worrying about Richard for years? It seemed now as if there had been a weight sitting in her heart for an age. It was an obscure time bomb ready to detonate and she had been anxiously waiting for the explosion that would spell the end of her way of life as she knew it for far too long. Funny, it turned out the end of that existence was no bad thing. She smiled now, a confident flicker of her lips that obviously rattled Clarissa.
‘My goodness, we thought…’
‘What?’
‘Well, we thought…’ Megan’s eyes darted from one to the other women.
‘You know how these things go, Amanda. You don’t call your friends, you seem to have fallen off the social scene and look at you, you’re positively fading away under all these, new clothes.’
‘Oh, Nicola, I’m hardly fading away. I told you, I’ve started to overhaul my life. Make healthier choices around food and exercise and it’s done me the world of good. I feel,’ Amanda looked from one pained face to the other and began to smile broadly, ‘I feel happy, really happy for the first time in years.’ The word seemed like an alien concept here, among these women, perfection was the ultimate goal, happiness had long since lost any meaning.
‘Happy?’ Clarissa wrinkled her nose, an admirable feat considering her rhinoplasty and all the Botox that filled out deep lines that should now set it apart from her cheeks. Her eyes held some recollection of the feeling, perhaps there was a hint too that it was something she missed.
The rest of the morning filled with chatter about other people, mainly the wives, but as usual, Nicola had some juicy pieces of information from the trading floor.
‘Apparently, Arial Wade has stopped sleeping her way through the junior traders,’ she whispered, a little deflated that they could no longer gossip about her new conquests. She looked pointedly at Amanda, so perhaps she didn’t know anything for sure, or maybe things had changed.
‘Has something happened to her? Has she contracted some kind of sexually transmitted bankers’ disease?’ Megan was attempting flippancy. Amanda recognised the fear that had always been a part of marriage to a wealthy man.
‘No, rumour has it, she’s cooling off a bit,’ Nicola threw her eyes heavenwards; love and romance were for fools as far as Nicola was concerned. Wealth and sex were two different currencies and the former was the one that dictated gratification for Nicola. ‘Perhaps you were right after all and she’s going after that promotion, Amanda.’
‘But she was seeing…’ Clarissa squeaked and then had the grace to blush.
‘Well, who knows who she was seeing, but it doesn’t matter now, because apparently she’s free and single again and gunning for promotion,’ Nicola drawled.
‘Has she set her sights on Julian Fitzgerald?’ Clarissa was bright red now, giddy with the triumph of knowing her marriage was safe, Clarissa’s husband was never going to progress much further than the trading floor and so probably not worth shagging if you wanted to move higher up the food chain. ‘Gosh, he must be seventy, ugh.’ She shook her perfectly groomed hair.
‘No, who knows? But, you can imagine, can’t you. This time of year, the bonuses deferred for another month. No one is going to want to blot their copybooks, are they?’ Megan said quickly. It was an unwritten rule among the partners. You could have flings and fun – that was just letting off steam, but a marriage breakdown was a weakness. The man who couldn’t hold his marriage together lost integrity around his capacity to make a good choice. Invariably, divorcees stayed around just long enough to make sufficient money to mollify the family courts, but there would be no promotion, no garnering the way to fat bonuses. Mostly, they made their way to other firms or to financial institutions in other countries.
‘The office gossip now is the divvying out of the bonuses, we ladies are the only ones thinking of love,’ Nicola said drily. They all knew she spoke like that simply to remain above suspicion. Maybe if she convinced everyone else that her marriage was a contented place, she might convince herself. Amanda sat back thoughtfully, she was so sure they knew about Richard and Arial, and maybe they had. But now it felt like the ground was shifting once more beneath them all.
*
‘You look…’ Richard paused for a moment, as though trying to figure out the right thing to say, then begrudgingly managed, ‘well. You’ve had your hair done, or something,’ he said before drawing the menu up between them. Nevertheless, there was no mistaking, he’d been taken aback, perhaps he’d expected her to fall to pieces without him? Well, maybe that had been how she felt at first, but tonight, meeting him here, she was buoyed up by Tess and Robyn before she’d left the house. They’d bolstered her self-confidence as much as her new hairdo, trimmer waistline and sleek clothes.
Richard pursed his lips as he ordered the pâté starter and Amanda figured he didn’t look all that delighted with himself. In a word, he looked awful. He looked as if someone had come along and washed him out. His hair had a newly salt and peppered look. An oily film covered his face and his collar appeared to have stretched to a size too large. Life had shaken him by his shoulders until his laconic calm turned to a nervy distrust she felt upon the air between them. It seemed his skin sagged more than before too, but she tried not to take pleasure in this. When had he gotten so old-looking? Good God, he’d only left the house two weeks ago.
‘This is nice, very civilised.’ Amanda looked around the restaurant. She’d never been here before. It was a busy French bistro buried deep off Leinster Street and she was glad it wasn’t the kind of place she could imagine Arial Wade ever coming to. Arial would be more of a linen tablecloth girl, whereas, Amanda realised, she liked red check. It was the kind of place she’d love to bring the kids. When she said it, Richard made a sound that sat somewhere between a grunt and an agreement. ‘So, how have you been?’
‘Working, you know,’ he said cagily.
‘Where are you staying?’
‘What is this, twenty questions?’ he barked and she realised that a few months ago she’d have backed down, felt as if she was nagging him.
‘It’s a reasonable question, Richard. You are the father of my children and, on paper at least, I’m still your next of kin.’
‘I’m staying at the Academy, it’s down on Wicklow Street, busy spot and a nice walk away from work,’ he said, tasting the wine the waiter had poured for him. Amanda had brought the jeep, it was the one way of ensuring that she didn’t have too much to drink. She hoped it would stop her saying exactly what she thought of him.
‘That’s handy,’ she said, but of course, he knew she was thinking, so not with Arial Wade then. Later, she’d wonder at how she could remain so calm, but of course, Richard had chosen this place to avoid a scene.
‘It’s giving me what I need.’
‘And what’s that, exactly?’ she asked, sipping her glass of water.
‘Time.’
‘Oh, Richard, surely you can do better than that?’ They hadn’t spoken about Arial, not since that night. It haunted her still, the thoughts of him with her. And worse, now she knew, in her heart, that there must have been others. He had been playing her for a fool, she was sure of that with the instinct that she had for so long buried. ‘You didn’t leave me so you could have time, you left me so you could be with Arial Wade,’ she whispered the words across the table, but there was no mistaking the ferociousness in her voice.
‘I… It was more than that…’ he folded the napkin unnecessarily before him then he cleared his throat, as though to rally himself for what was long overdue. ‘It was more than that, I wasn’t happy for a long time. You have to admit, things have been dead between us for much longer than this…’ He sipped his wine, too fast perhaps, because it turned into an uncomfortable gulp.
‘Maybe, Richard, but I’ve done nothing wrong…’ she let the words slide out between them and they were true. At the same time, she couldn’t help but think of that night on New Year’s Eve, that strange woman looking back at her from the plate glass window. She wasn’t familiar, she had turned into a stranger to herself, no longer the girl she used to know. ‘Well, we’ve both changed.’
‘I can see that,’ he said shortly.
‘What does that mean?’ she snapped.
‘Well, look at us here. Who’d have thought you’d turn into such a cold bitch?’
‘That’s rich. Do I need to remind you, you’re the one who’s been unfaithful, not just to me, but I bet you haven’t even thought about what this could do to your kids? Don’t you dare sit there and start blaming me. True, we’ve both changed, but I’ve always thought of you. I’ve always done things to make you happy, where as you…’
‘Oh, now we’re hearing all about it. I suppose, you’re going to throw the old accusation about missing out on being a great artist,’ his voice tasted of bitterness and reproach and it didn’t suit him. ‘Seriously, Amanda, I’ve given you a great life, a beautiful home, sophisticated friends and the kind of credit card that means you never have to think twice about what you buy. And what have you given me in return?’
‘God,’ she sighed, ‘so two lovely kids, a home that rose out of the wreck we bought and supporting your career at every turn counts for nothing, I suppose?’ A nervous tension released with her resentment, so she knew she didn’t give a damn anymore about Richard’s idea of what was good and what was worth having. ‘You really think that money is the answer to everything?’ She shook her head.
‘You can make all the faces you want, it’s easy to be blasé about it when you don’t have to depend on tips in a bar anymore, or have you forgotten where you came from?’
‘No, Richard, I haven’t forgotten at all. I’m prouder than ever of where I came from and the fact that I could paint, and will again, makes me even more proud. True enough, your money, it’s been great, not to have to scrimp and save, but don’t for a minute think that I wouldn’t have managed on my own. And as for your friends, God help you if you think that those back-stabbing bloodsuckers are anything more than waiting to take first shot at you as soon as they find out about Arial.’ She sat back on her chair now and looked him dead straight in his eyes; he was the first to look away.
‘Well, that was a long time coming,’ he murmured at last. ‘I had no idea that you felt so angry.’
‘What do you expect, Richard? That I’ll just fall into line and sit quietly by while you head off into the sunset?’ She looked around the restaurant, took a deep breath and for a minute the silence between them bristled. ‘You still haven’t said you’re sorry,’ she said flatly.
‘No. I didn’t, did I?’ he said then and nodded towards the waiter for more wine.
‘Well, this is getting us nowhere.’ Perhaps he wasn’t sorry, maybe he’d never say it and maybe that wasn’t the end of the world. ‘Anyway, we are where we are now,’ she said eventually. She knew they couldn’t move forward unless it was something they both wanted and now, sitting here opposite him, she couldn’t imagine going back to the way she was on New Year’s Eve.
‘No, I had hoped we could be civilised. This isn’t easy for me either, you know?’ he blanched when he caught the look of hatred that flashed across her eyes.
‘Richard, we can be as civilised as you like, but you’ve hurt me and I won’t be playing your games anymore, so you might as well get used to the idea that I won’t be pussyfooting around you any longer.’ She sipped her sparkling water and sat back in her seat, determined to let him take responsibility for filling the silence between them.
‘Anyway, how are the kids?’
‘Haven’t you been in touch with them?’
‘On the phone, but you know it’s all one-word answers.’
‘That’s teenagers for you.’ She didn’t want to push him meeting up with them, what was the point? They weren’t bothered, she knew that for certain. ‘They’re good. Actually, they’re great.’ It was true. Their house was much happier without Richard around, now there was no longer the constant need for perfection, the feeling that you were always on stage. Robyn had started to bring friends over after school. Last week, Casper set up the old potting shed as a practice room for the band he talked about forming for so long. Amanda wasn’t sure the neighbours appreciated his music but she certainly loved having them around. The only one who wouldn’t complain was Tess, but then she dropped in with Stephen in the evenings to listen to their efforts and drop off biscuits or join in some old-fashioned melody if they could knock one out for her. It seemed, these days, Amanda filled her fridge five times more often than she had before. Every time she turned around there was another gangly teenager helping himself to a doorstep-sized sandwich, but she knew where they were and she knew what they were doing. Of course, she didn’t tell Richard any of that. The only things that mattered in Richard’s view of the world were school grades and achievements he could brag about at work.
‘And you? How are you?’ he asked and he met her eyes really for the first time that night. For a moment, they seemed to linger on her face before he topped up his wine glass. He drank deeply as though to quell his anxiety at the ordeal of having to spend time with her.
‘Me?’ Amanda almost said, seriously, you want to know how I am? But she didn’t. Instead, she said, ‘I’m great.’ It was what he wanted to hear after all. Richard didn’t want to hear that she felt as if he’d discarded her like a child throwing away a toy he no longer wanted. He didn’t want to hear that he had made her feel used and dirty and that sitting here, looking across at him was depressing the hell out of her. He certainly didn’t need to know that she had every intention of going home after this and emptying the contents of one of the most expensive bottles of red wine he’d bought in the last five years into a large wine glass and drinking it until her teeth were stained a deep and dirty mahogany red. She had been angry, maybe even still there were flashes of it, but the weeks when she’d kept silent and bottled up her fears were a down payment for how miserable she was going to feel later. The worst was over. It had happened, and she was still here and she was not going to let him see her be anything less than this new, improved version of the woman he had left. ‘Yes, I’m doing fine.’ She thought of Carlos Giordano and the way his jeans seemed to trap the hardness of his legs and shapely bottom as he worked each day alongside her. ‘I’m doing great, considering, so we’re both good?’
‘Oh, you know, things aren’t always what you expect…’ He had a faraway look in his eyes. Perhaps things with Arial were not so rosy now that they were no longer playing away behind the stupid wife’s back. Amanda took what little joy she could from that fleeting notion.
‘Well, this is lovely,’ she said as she tucked into her warm chicken salad. She certainly was not going to put herself through listening to him whine about life not turning out as he had hoped now he was free to shack up with his fancy woman.
In the end, after they ate dinner, neither was too pushed about dessert, they agreed that Richard could pop over and take what he needed from the house. The rest, Amanda would organise into storage. She had every intention of putting the lot into a lock-up and handing him the keys. She had no desire to see anything belonging to him lying about the house.
They hadn’t even talked about the house, or money or any of the practical things that she knew they should be sorting out. There was money in her account every week, the house was paid for and Amanda knew he could keep her more than comfortably on a small fraction of his annual bonus. No court in the land would see her going without; especially when they looked at his earnings. When they left the bistro, they stood awkwardly at her jeep for a moment. Oddly, it felt, to Amanda at least, as though they were parting again, for the first time. How many times had they gone out for a meal and she would drive them home together. The way Richard lingered, she had a feeling he felt the same and if neither of them wanted to change things, perhaps it didn’t make them immune to the sadness and waste of it all.
‘Hey,’ a warm voice called from behind her. ‘Amanda, it is you.’ Carlos Giordano came up alongside her and suddenly Richard seemed to shrink.
‘Oh, hi, Carlos. Fancy seeing you here,’ she smiled and, for a moment, it felt as if it was just the two of them standing on the street, he really was quite the hunk.
‘Ah, yes. My uncle, he has a restaurant, just around the corner from here, not as… French, as this place.’ He winked at her and only then noticed Richard. ‘Hello…’ he smiled and instantly Amanda could see Richard wither up into the shell of a man he truly was compared with the open, friendliness of Carlos.
‘Carlos, this is Richard, my…’
‘Husband. I’m her husband,’ Richard said and he set his jaw at an angle and looked Carlos up and down as though measuring the man by the expense of his clothing. Of course, there was so much more to Carlos than just the label on his jacket and it seemed Richard was painfully aware of that.
‘Oh, well, good to meet you,’ Carlos said, letting the unfriendliness brush off him, it was truly meaningless to Carlos. ‘And you, senorita, I will see you soon,’ he said and then he took her hand to his lips and kissed lingeringly, giving her the cheekiest wink before heading off into the night.
When Amanda got home, she was still grinning like a six-year-old at a sugar party. Richard’s incredulous expression had been enough to make her night and, as for Carlos, he had certainly made her blood rush in a way it hadn’t for a good many years.