CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘That was delicious, Juliet. Thank Incarna for us.’ Connie popped a last, luscious strawberry into her mouth and savoured its sweet, juicy taste.
‘The tuna was melt-in-the-mouth,’ Karen declared. ‘And that gorgeous salad with the pine nuts . . . they’re so flavoursome. Make the most of this, Connie. Got a text from Jenna – they’re having thunder and lightning at home.’
‘The poor suckers.’ Connie grinned. ‘Here, let me bring these in, Juliet.’ She gathered up the plates and went to carry them in.
‘Leave them, Connie. It won’t take me a minute to do them. Have another glass of wine.’ Juliet topped her up. ‘Karen, more Amé? Pity you’re driving.’
‘Just as well I’m driving – I’m turning into a lush. I haven’t drunk so much in years,’ Karen retorted.
‘Me, too, but I’ll go on the dry when I go home. Will you stay for the rest of the summer, Juliet?’ Connie took a sip of her wine and sat back, totally relaxed.
‘I haven’t decided. But it’s an enticing prospect. I’m only beginning to realize just how restricting and stressful it’s been living with Ken. I mean, I do everything on the home front. My life has been spent accommodating him. Here, I’m doing what I want, when I want, with no irate phone calls looking for this, that and the other.’
‘Would you ever consider living here?’ Connie inquired.
‘I’d certainly consider spending a lot more time here. It’s lovely in the autumn.’ Juliet nibbled on a piece of Turkish delight. ‘Wait until I tell Ken I’m going to be out here a lot more. He’ll go round nuts. I might wind him up and tell him I’ve been sunbathing on the nudist beach across the dunes. Cabopino has a noted nudist beach – you know?’ Juliet smirked, eyes bright from a combination of alcohol and good humour. The air of guarded reserve and tension that she often carried had dissipated completely, the stress lines in her face had softened and her natural joie de vivre, which had been buried for so long, was beginning to re-emerge.
‘We should go there one of the days and give them an eyeful,’ Connie suggested giddily. ‘We could get an all-over tan. No strap-marks!’
‘Get an eyeful, more like it.’ Karen made a face. ‘Aren’t men afraid their wobbly bits will get sunburnt?’
‘Ken wouldn’t have much to worry about in that area – you’d need a microscope to find them,’ Juliet said tipsily. ‘It’s so liberating releasing the inner bitch, I should have done it years ago.’
The others guffawed heartily, and Juliet joined in, feeling happy and carefree.
‘And what’s the joke? It’s nice to see you ladies enjoying yourselves.’ The subject of their hilarity strode on to the terrace, grim-faced as he stared at his wife.
‘Ken! Ah no, Ken! It’s not fair; I came away to get some peace and quiet. To think. Could you not have respected me that much and let me have what I needed for once in my life?’ Juliet stood up. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she demanded angrily. The colour had faded from her face. She gripped the wrought-iron back of her chair tightly for support.
‘Don’t take that tone with me, Juliet. It’s rude in front of your guests. We’ll discuss it inside,’ he said dismissively. ‘Hello, Karen and er . . . um . . . Carrie, isn’t it?’ He barely acknowledged them as he stood eyeballing Juliet.
‘It’s Connie,’ Connie responded coldly. He ignored her. She remembered the first time they’d been introduced. Barry had told his father-in-law that Connie was a nurse. Ken had looked her up and down, asked her a few perfunctory questions about where she worked, and couldn’t get away quick enough. A mere nurse was not worth more than a few minutes of his precious time. For the short while he’d been talking to her, his eyes had been scanning the room to find someone more worthy of his attention. On the few other occasions she’d encountered him, he’d merely nodded self-importantly at her, and she had made no effort to initiate conversation.
‘Would you ladies mind excusing my wife for a while? I need to talk to her. Juliet, I’ll be inside.’ Ken turned on his heel and marched back into the villa.
‘I’m so sorry about this.’ Juliet was crimson with humiliation. ‘I can’t believe he’s flown over here. He’s so disrespectful of me; he just keeps right on ignoring my wishes. He’s getting worse as he gets older. This is intolerable.’ She was shaking, dazed with disbelief.
‘We’d better go,’ Karen murmured.
‘Will you be all right? Can you deal with him?’ Connie asked sympathetically, noting Juliet’s distress. ‘Would you like us to wait in the car up the road, in case you need us? Just so you have an option? You can’t drive after the wine we’ve drunk.’
‘Would you?’ Juliet said eagerly. ‘That’s extremely kind. I don’t think I could bear to stay in the same house as him tonight. Would it be very pushy of me to ask could I sleep on your sofa? Or you could drop me at the Don Carlos and I could get a room. I’m disgusted that he’d fly over here and treat me like a naughty schoolgirl. I’m sixty-four years of age, the mother of his children. I deserve respect.’ Her face crumpled.
‘You will not get a room in a hotel, Juliet. Of course you can sleep at our place. Open the gates for us, and we’ll drive out, and we’ll be waiting for you across the road. Don’t let him see you crying if you can manage it,’ Karen urged, handing the other woman a tissue.
‘He’s afraid, Juliet. Afraid and seriously rattled. That’s what’s wrong with him, and he’s covering it up with bluster. He needs you much more than you need him, don’t forget that,’ Connie pointed out astutely. ‘Think of wobbly bits and microscopes when he’s ranting and raving,’ she advised.
Juliet gave a watery smile and straightened up. ‘Right. Thanks very much, girls. I’m glad you’re here. God must have been looking after me the day I got on the plane to Spain.’
‘You go, girl, make mincemeat of him.’ Karen patted her arm. ‘Remember we’re outside waiting for you.’
They collected their bits and pieces and walked over to Karen’s rented Focus. ‘We’ll be waiting, take no crap.’ Connie gave Juliet a hug.
‘Tell him to bugger off home, we’ve been invited to a party at the nudist beach.’ Karen winked as she got into the car, and Juliet laughed.
Taking a deep breath, by now thoroughly sober, she squared her shoulders and walked back towards the villa, trying hard to compose herself. She was stunned at her husband’s arrival. She hadn’t even been gone more than a few days. Did he think he owned her, she wondered agitatedly as she poured some water into a glass from a carafe. She looked at the half-full wine glasses and the detritus of their meal as she took a sip of water to take the dryness out of her mouth. In the blink of an eye, her relaxed, fun-filled break had turned into a disaster, thanks to Ken. Juliet felt a deep, burning anger. This was a turning point for her, she knew. If she let her husband get away with his obnoxious behaviour, she was finished. Her brief rebellion would be crushed as thoroughly as her spirit.
Ken was pacing the kitchen when she walked in. ‘I want to talk—’
‘Excuse me, I want to let my friends out,’ she snapped icily, pressing the buzzer on the intercom to open the gates. She turned and stared at him. ‘How dare you embarrass me in front of them? How dare you march in here and order me about? How dare you follow me over from Ireland when I specifically told you I wanted time to think about—’
‘Enough!’ roared Ken. ‘It’s how dare you treat me like this. Do you realize that I’ve had to cancel two clinics and get Lorcan Carleton to look after my post-op patients for two days so that I could stand in queues and sit on a plane for an hour on the tarmac to get here to find out what the hell is wrong with you?’ His pale-blue eyes were glittering, his face ruddy with barely suppressed rage. He stood towering over her, his hands clenched by his sides, fury and exasperation emanating from every pore.
‘Might I remind you who pays for you to sit entertaining your girlfriends beside your swimming pool, drinking wine? Might I remind you who pays for your air fares, your expensive clothes and shoes, your hair-dos, your car, your big house, your housekeeper here and in Dublin? And all I want in return is some respect, and consideration. And that means a wife who will look after my needs—’
‘I want a divorce,’ Juliet said coldly. ‘I don’t care what you want or do not want, Ken. I want a divorce. I’m the one who’s had enough.’
‘What! Are you on some sort of drugs? What the blazes has got into you? Are you crazy?’ Ken couldn’t believe his ears. He had removed his jacket before she came in, and she could see two big perspiration patches staining the material under the arms of his shirt. She wouldn’t be washing that shirt, she thought in a surreal moment as she listened to him seethe.
‘You’re giving up everything you’ve got, at close enough to seventy years of age, because you’re in some sort of strop with me. Are you insane, Juliet?’ he demanded.
‘I’ve never been more sane in my life. And I’m in my early sixties, not my seventies, you fool. And it wouldn’t matter what age I was. I’ve had enough of your arrogance, your bad manners, your temper tantrums, your bullying. You know, Ken, when I married you, I married my father. He was exactly the same as you. It’s taken me a long time to see that. Too long. And what you did to me, you did to Aimee, too. She was always telling me to stand up for myself, but I was always making allowances for you, because of the work you do – complicated heart surgery, saving people’s lives. The pressure had to get out somewhere. So I gave you a safe place to let off steam. What a foolish woman I was to let you get away with such appalling behaviour. I enabled . . . isn’t that what they call it? . . . Enabling . . . ? Well, I enabled you to be a . . . a . . . boor! But thank God I’ve found some small sliver of backbone, even if it’s this late in life. It’s a dreadful thing to be spineless, Ken. Even worse than being married to a Neanderthal.’ She could see her husband staring at her in bewildered perplexity. Even she was impressed with what had come pouring out of her.
‘What’s wrong with you? Why are you behaving like this? You’re not yourself.’ Ken couldn’t hide his disbelief.
‘For the first time in a long, long time, I’m very much myself, Ken. That’s the tragedy of it, that it’s taken me so long to come to my senses. That it’s taken so long for me to have some self-respect. I want a divorce,’ Juliet reiterated. ‘I’ll be on to a solicitor first thing in the morning,’ she added, in a precise, clipped tone which momentarily left him speechless, and she turned and walked away from him.
‘And where,’ he asked nastily, ‘will you be getting the money to pay for this divorce?’
‘You’ll be paying for it through the nose,’ she retorted over her shoulder, and marched out of the kitchen, feeling in control of her destiny for the first time in years. She hurried up to her bedroom, slipped a dress over her swimsuit, grabbed some fresh underwear and a nightie, got her toothbrush from the ensuite and packed everything into her tote bag, along with her hair brush and makeup.
She heard Ken thunder up the stairs a minute later, and then he barged into the room. ‘Now listen here, Juliet,’ he began, and saw the bag on the bed. ‘Where do you think you’re—’
‘I’m going to a party on the nudist beach, if you must know,’ she interrupted curtly. ‘I’m having fun in my life, Ken. FUN! FUN! FUN!’ She stepped into a pair of espadrilles, sprayed some perfume on to her wrists and took the bag off the bed. ‘Excuse me,’ she said as he stood blocking the doorway.
‘You are not going anywhere until we’ve discussed—’
‘Excuse me now!’ She gave him a withering look.
Ken stared at her dumbfounded, astonished at the authority in her voice. He stepped aside.
‘Thank you,’ she said coolly. ‘My solicitor will be in touch.’
She walked down the tiled stairs, half expecting him to come after her, but he didn’t. She heaved a sigh of relief. Her knees were trembling, and she felt sick, but she held her head high as she walked down the drive to the open gates. She knew he’d be looking out from their bedroom balcony, but she resolutely kept her eyes fixed ahead. She saw Karen’s car parked across the street, up a little to the right, and increased her speed. Connie got out and opened the back door. ‘You OK?’ she asked anxiously.
Juliet nodded, unable to speak.
‘Get in,’ Connie said kindly, sliding in alongside her. Karen started the engine.
‘I told him I wanted a divorce.’ Juliet gripped Connie’s hand tightly.
‘Good woman yourself. Well done. Sometimes it’s the only route to go,’ Connie comforted.
‘How did he take it?’ Karen asked.
‘Badly.’ Juliet gave a shaky grin. ‘I know he doesn’t think I’ll go through with it but, if I don’t, I might as well give up now and go back to the villa.’
‘What do you want to do?’ Connie squeezed her hand.
‘As I told my soon-to-be-ex-husband, to go to the nudist beach and have Fun! Fun! Fun!’
Karen laughed. ‘Juliet, if that’s what your little heart desires, we’re with you all the way. So will we go back to my place?’ She caught the other woman’s eye in her rear-view mirror.
‘Yes, please,’ Juliet said firmly. ‘Who says you need a man to live happy ever after? It’s my time now, and better late than never.’
Ken walked slowly into the bedroom and loosened his tie. Juliet had not looked back as she walked out through the gates of the villa. He’d watched her, her shoulders straight and her head held high, stride purposefully away from him, and willed her to turn around, willed her to show some hesitation or uncertainty. She hadn’t. Not an ounce. Juliet seemed uncharacteristically sure of herself. He felt a shiver of apprehension. She wasn’t serious about wanting a divorce surely? Ken shook his head, and sat down on the bed, tie dangling from his hand.
She’d said dreadful things to him. Called him a boor. Accused him of being arrogant, a bully. He looked around their tastefully furnished bedroom, all cool creams and pale blues. He’d provided all of this for her. Where was her gratitude? Her acknowledgement of his hard work? She knew better than anyone how stressful it was. Ken sighed and rubbed his hand across his stubbly jaw. Stress didn’t begin to describe it, these last few years. He was getting older; it was harder keeping up with new procedures, new technology. When he started off it was eyes and hands only. Now there were computers, lasers, keyhole this, pinhole that. The young bucks coming along in his wake were full of confidence, drive and ambition, just like he’d been thirty years ago.
Once, he’d been a god on the wards, sweeping in to visit patients with a respectful entourage scurrying behind him. When the nuns ran the hospitals, the consultant had been elevated to lofty heights never again attained since the arrival of managers, and health ministers who had no respect, and the damn HSE, which was trying to turn them into lackeys.
When the nuns ran hospitals there was no MRSA, there were no dirty wards or crowded, filthy A&Es, or cardiac patients being given cholesterol-laden, fat-dripping fry-ups for tea. He was a dinosaur now, living in the past, wishing for the past to return. He had had his day. Did Juliet not realize how difficult it was to keep up his air of invincibility? Patients needed the reassurance that they were in a safe pair of hands. His air of command and confidence reassured them. He needed it himself to keep going. It wasn’t about being a boor, he thought indignantly, it was about self-protection.
He shouldn’t have launched off at her in front of those two women, he reflected guiltily. He’d embarrassed her. He should have held his fire, but patience had never been a strong point with him. She knew that.
He got up and went downstairs, and poked in the fridge looking for a cool drink. He opened a can of tonic water and drank it thirstily. His wife had looked at him with scorn and derision in her eyes. That was hard to endure. Ken mooched out on to the terrace and sat at the table where they had been eating, the remnants of their meal still there.
Where was Juliet getting all this psychobabble? Enabling . . . where had she heard that? He grimaced. Too much bloody Dr Phil. That’s what was wrong with her and half the women in the country. They had too much time to sit and watch silly so-called self-help rubbish. He stretched out and raised his face to the sky. Dusk had tamed the blistering sun, and the shadows were lengthening over the lawn as the cicadas chirruped and the sea sang its lullaby to the shore. It was peaceful, and he was tired – tired and worried. He’d never seen Juliet like this. She seemed adamant about wanting a divorce. She was mad. It couldn’t be a worse time to divorce, with a recession threatening and all.
Would she want the house sold? They could lose up to three hundred thousand, or more, if they put it on the market now. They wouldn’t be able to give away the villa. All he’d seen on his journey from the airport were ‘Se Vende’ signs. She’d want half his pensions, his investments. A colleague of his had recently been divorced and was now living, alone, in a two-bedroom apartment in Glasnevin, when he’d once lived in a detached five-bedroomed house in Howth. The ex-wife was living in an apartment in Clontarf and playing golf every day, with not a worry in the world.
Was that where he’d end up – alone in some glasshouse apartment, having to suffer the indignity of communal living and management-committee meetings? Ken shuddered. It couldn’t come to that. Someone would have to talk sense to her.
Ken sat for a long time in the cool of the Mediterranean evening, pondering his life, weary to his bones. There was one thing he was certain of: if Juliet left him, he didn’t know what he’d do. For the first time in all their married life, he was beginning to realize just what a sterling wife she’d been. He might have been the provider, but she’d been his bedrock. He’d ring Aimee in the morning. Juliet had a high regard for their daughter. Perhaps she’d listen to her. It was imperative that Aimee talk sense to her mother, he decided, as he made his lonely way to bed, full of self-pity, wondering could anyone be quite as miserable as he was this moonlit, star-filled night.
‘It couldn’t be that much!’ Bryan stared at Debbie aghast. ‘It just couldn’t be.’
‘It is, Bryan. Fifty-five thousand euro more or less, and that’s not counting our mortgage. If you go there, we’re three hundred and fifty thousand in debt. We’ve got to cut back and start making inroads on the payments, or we’re in serious trouble,’ she insisted. ‘We’ve got to get rid of the car and get something less expensive—’
‘Oh come on, Debbs, it’s our only little luxury. What do you expect me to drive around in – a Mini?’ he protested sulkily.
‘There you go, you see – you won’t even face up to our problems. So what if we have to drive around in a smaller car? At least we’ll be reducing our debt,’ Debbie said heatedly. They were sitting at their small dining table, and each of them had a spreadsheet detailing the amount they owed.
‘This is crazy,’ Bryan muttered. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Believe it,’ Debbie said grimly. ‘For starters, the car’s going. I’m not going on that hen weekend, and we’re not staying overnight if we go to that wedding. You can hire a monkey suit; I’ll wear something I’ve worn before. No more meals out or drink and drug binges with Kevin Devlin—’
‘You see? You were the one who wanted to buy a house and get married – we could have waited, Debbie. Could have rented an apartment and lived together without all this hassle,’ Bryan exploded. ‘This isn’t what I wanted, it’s what you wanted. We should never have got married. We haven’t had a minute’s peace since we bought this house and started planning for the wedding. And now I’m the one suffering. It’s just not on. I’m going to bed.’ He stalked out of the room and pounded up the stairs, leaving Debbie staring after him in frustration.
There was no answer to his accusations. It was just as she had feared: Bryan was putting all the blame on her. Her lip wobbled, and she buried her head in her hands and burst into tears.
Bryan yanked the tie from around his neck, rolled it in a ball and flung it across the bedroom. He was furious with Debbie. He’d come back from his mother’s in great form. Brona had cooked him a scrumptious dinner, made a huge fuss over him and, when he’d confided that he was skint, she’d told him that she’d give him 3,000 euro towards paying off his credit card – the credit card that Debbie knew nothing about, and which she’d not included in their outstanding debt calculations.
He’d come home and felt he’d been ambushed when she’d insisted that they sit down at their dining table and given him that damn spreadsheet. Looking at the figures in black and white had been a sobering moment. They might as well be paupers. Their house was no longer an asset. They were in negative equity with it as it was, so selling wasn’t an option. There was nothing they could do except cut down on expenses and start paying off their loans.
The good life was over. And, if this was marriage, he knew he wasn’t going to stick it out. Bryan got undressed and threw himself under the duvet. He’d fallen for Debbie because he thought she understood him; she’d always given him a lot of leeway, just like his mother. That was until he’d married her, he thought bitterly. Now he might as well be married to Connie, for all the bossing around he was getting:
‘We can’t do this.’
‘You can’t do that.’
‘Sell the car!’
It wasn’t his fault there was a bloody recession. Why should he have to suffer? Bryan had never felt so trapped in his life. And, this time, not even his mother could get him out of the mess he was in.
‘When I married Ken, I married a replica of my father. He was authoritative, controlling, self-obsessed, just like my husband. And my mother behaved just as I did, putting all his needs first and fading into the background. Isn’t it amazing, when you actually stop to think about it, how we constantly repeat old patterns?’ Juliet remarked to Connie and Karen as they sat chatting in the balmy moonlight. It was well after midnight.
‘I understand that very well. Bryan is somewhat similar to what Barry was like when he was young – restless and not eager for responsibility. I did try to warn Debbie and suggest they postpone their wedding, but she didn’t want to hear what I was saying, and I think that she pushed him to get married,’ Connie confessed. ‘And that’s just what I did, so she’s repeating my pattern, if you look at it like that,’ she agreed ruefully. ‘I worry about them, to be honest. Their generation has had it so easy financially that I think there’re going to be a lot of troubled marriages now that the boom times are over and belts have to be tightened.’
‘Oh dear, I hope not,’ Juliet murmured.
‘Everyone has to learn from their own mistakes, unfortunately, and you’re right, scrimping and saving won’t come easy to the Celtic-tiger babes.’ Karen shrugged. ‘But at least the days of staying in a bad marriage are gone, even though it’s also true that a lot of young people give up at the first hurdle nowadays, and I suppose women are much more financially independent – they can get mortgages on their own, so that’s why it’s easier for them to walk away.’
‘I don’t think I’d get a mortgage at my age. I’ll have to pay cash for anything I buy and, although the mortgages are paid on our house and the villa here, we’ll lose out because of the slump in prices.’ Juliet looked troubled. Worry and anxiety had crept back into her face, folding back into the lines around her eyes and mouth. The carefree woman of a few hours previously had vanished.
‘I know it’s a bad time to be selling property, but the balance to it is that it’s a good time if you’re buying,’ Karen pointed out as she filled three glasses with wine and handed Connie and Juliet one each. They were sitting on her wide terracotta fifth-floor balcony overlooking the sea. An almost-full moon shone silver streamers of light on to the rippling pewter water that surged softly against the shore. A cruise ship on the horizon sailed along the coast of Africa, lights strung from its mast, like a floating Christmas tree.
‘It’s a great time to buy,’ Juliet agreed. ‘Ideally, I’d go for a small apartment or townhouse in Sandycove or Glasthule. I’d like to be on the Dart and near the sea. This is so peaceful, Karen,’ she remarked, sipping the chilled golden chardonnay gratefully.
‘That would be handy for you as well for visiting Aimee and the children,’ Karen observed, handing around a dish of mixed nuts. ‘I suppose you’ll want to be back home in Ireland when she has the baby.’
‘Children . . . the baby?’ Juliet looked puzzled.
Karen’s jaw dropped, and she flashed a look of consternation at Connie. ‘Sorry, Juliet, I assumed you knew – um . . . Aimee’s expecting, but . . . but she probably didn’t want to say anything until the three months are up,’ she said sheepishly.
‘And how did you know?’ Juliet asked, bewildered. ‘You’d think she would have told her own mother.’ She couldn’t disguise the hurt that flickered in her eyes.
‘Melissa let it slip, and I told Karen,’ Connie explained hastily. ‘She only found out on Saturday, because that was the day I met Melissa in Dun Laoghaire, and Aimee had just taken the test, apparently; otherwise I’d never have known. Don’t feel bad about it, Juliet,’ she urged, conscious of the other woman’s injured feelings. ‘It really was due to a slip of the tongue that I found out. I’m sure Aimee will tell you in her own good time.’
‘I wouldn’t think she’d be too happy about being pregnant after all this time.’ Juliet frowned. ‘She told me she didn’t want any more children after Melissa was born. She’s going to be most put out, I’d say.’
‘It’s tough if that’s the case,’ Connie said diplomatically.
‘The Davenport women are having a hard time of it, it seems,’ Juliet said glumly. ‘But at least Aimee is happy in her marriage. Barry is a very supportive husband.’
Connie refrained from comment. ‘Happy’ was not the adjective she would use to describe her ex’s marriage, or his state of mind. Karen offered around the nuts again.
‘Oh . . . that was a bit thoughtless. I’m sorry, Connie,’ Juliet said contritely, realizing to whom she was talking.
‘Nothing to be sorry about at all,’ Connie assured her kindly. ‘Barry and I are water under the bridge for a long time now.’
‘But it must have been hard on you, all the same,’ Juliet murmured, mortified at her faux pas.
‘It was at the time but, honestly, Juliet, it all worked out very well, and it’s wonderful that Melissa and Debbie are becoming close. That’s the best thing to come out of it all.’
‘You’re a good person, Connie.’ Juliet smiled at her.
‘Right back at ya!’ Connie raised her glass.
‘I suppose no one knows better than you what a big step divorce is. Am I mad, I wonder?’
‘One thing I will say, Juliet, is that divorce is easier on the person who initiates it, especially if it’s against the other person’s wishes. But, having said that, and it was Barry who left me, looking back, he was the one who had the courage to recognize that we weren’t working. I would have endured the misery for a lot longer, I think. There’s always light at the end of every tunnel, and being on your own is far preferable to being stuck in a miserable marriage – that’s what I’ve learned from it all. It also brought out strengths I didn’t know I possessed. I’m the woman I am now because of my divorce. And I’m happy with myself.’
‘Well, Connie, you should be proud of yourself. I stayed because it was easier, and I lost my self-respect, and that’s an awful place to be.’
‘Might he change his ways now that you’ve given him something to think about?’ Karen asked.
‘That might take a miracle.’ Juliet gave a wry smile. ‘And I’m not sure I believe in them.’ She yawned discreetly behind her hand. ‘I think I’ll go to bed, if you don’t mind. It’s been a long day.’
‘Sleep well, Juliet,’ Connie said warmly.
‘Thanks for everything. I’m sure neither of you came on holidays to get sucked into my marital woes.’
‘Don’t give it a second thought. Glad to be of help,’ Karen said as she led the way into the apartment and down to the cool air-conditioned bedroom where Juliet had already left her bag and nightdress. ‘Make yourself at home, Juliet, and sleep well.’ Karen pulled the pale lilac curtains across the French doors and turned down the matching bedspread. ‘If you want to make tea at any time, go right ahead.’
‘I will. Goodnight, Karen, and thanks again for your hospitality.’
Juliet sank wearily on to the side of the bed as the other woman shut the door quietly behind her. Her head was beginning to ache, and she searched her handbag for a packet of Nurofen.
What a day, she reflected as she undressed and pulled her cotton nightdress over her head. One thing was sure, she decided as she slid between the cool, crisp sheets, she was leaving Ken. If he didn’t want a divorce, she’d agree to a legal separation. She wouldn’t be marrying again and, she felt pretty sure, neither would he. Women wouldn’t put up with his type any more.
Her children would be surprised, she thought with a wry smile as she switched out the light and lay in the blessed comfort of darkness, Aimee more than any of them. Her thoughts turned to her daughter. It had been a shock to learn that she was pregnant. Knowing her as well as she did, Juliet knew that Aimee must be utterly dismayed at the prospect of having to look after a new baby. It would tie her down enormously. How ironic that, while she was looking forward to a future of liberation and becoming her own woman, her daughter would be tightly bound by motherhood and all it entailed. Juliet drifted off to sleep, comforted by the fact that she had reclaimed her self-respect and her dignity, and made two good friends in the process.
‘That was a day and a half,’ Karen murmured as she came back out on to the balcony and sat down on the lounger beside Connie. ‘Trust me to open my big mouth about the baby. I wasn’t thinking. Sorry about that,’ she apologized.
‘Can’t be helped. You always were a blabbermouth,’ Connie said affectionately.
‘Bitch,’ grinned her sister-in-law. ‘Imagine being married to that pain in the ass. I don’t know how she lasted so long. Juliet’s totally different to Aimee, isn’t she? Much softer. Too soft to be married to that big tyrant.’
‘I think he’s possibly the rudest man I ever met. Imagine having him for a father. Not easy either. Maybe that’s why Aimee’s so driven. You never know what goes on in other people’s lives sure you don’t,’ Connie mused. ‘You’re lucky to have a happy marriage, Karen. John’s one in a million. When I look at Juliet and Ken, and Aimee and Barry, I have to say, I’m very contented in my single state. I won’t be going down that road, for sure.’
‘And what about that sexy man you were telling me about?’ Karen topped up her glass.
‘Mmm . . . I don’t think he’s too anxious to go down that road again either,’ Connie said firmly.
‘Well, I live in hopes of being your matron of honour, madam, so I’m not giving up on it,’ Karen giggled as she slugged her wine.
‘You have two chances of that, Karen – slim and none,’ Connie retorted tartly but, as she gazed out at the moonlit sea, she thought how nice it would be to sit sipping wine and talking all night with Drew Sullivan. Full moons always made her lonely. Full moons should be shared, she thought wistfully, recognizing that all the wine she’d drunk had made her maudlin. Juliet had said you didn’t need a man to live happy ever after, and Connie wouldn’t argue with that, but with the right man, if there was such a creature, happiness was possible and, although she was contented with her life, she wouldn’t shut the door on new opportunities that came her way. She didn’t have to marry the new opportunity, she smiled to herself, looking forward to her new job and to meeting Drew again.