Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
The rest of the evening fills out nicely, with a balance of the usual sociable atmosphere, and a buzz about Charles’s plans. He is very much the centre of attention, and his table is rarely without a visitor. Several people come and chat to me as well, and I’m glad I brought a notebook – the suggestions are coming thick and fast.
We assign some tasks, we make some plans, and I take copious notes, running between my table and Charles’s. Everyone seems up for it, and the mood is upbeat.
‘This is great,’ I say to Ryan, as I sketch out a rough outline of how many tables we might need to hire in. ‘Everyone’s so enthusiastic!’
‘Yeah. They’re always up for shenanigans.’
I laugh at the word – another of Nora’s favourites, often applied to me and June. ‘You two look guilty – have there been shenanigans?’ There usually had, to be fair. I actually thought she’d made it up until I came across a pub with the same name in New York.
‘I’ll need to hire some lighting gear, while you’re making your lists,’ he adds, looking thoughtful. ‘I still have my camera, but it’s been a long time since I did anything like this.’
I look up from my notepad and give him my full attention.
‘The pictures on the walls in here are beautiful. You’re clearly very talented. Why did you give it up?’
‘I couldn’t resist the allure of unblocking toilets and clearing out guttering.’
‘Really? That’s all I’m going to get?’
He tilts his head to one side, and seems to be weighing me up.
‘I needed a change,’ he says, shrugging. ‘Life back in Ireland got complicated, and I took some knocks. The kind that it’s hard to get back up from. Moving away seemed like the best option.’
‘I get it,’ I reply. ‘Fresh start. The chance to recreate yourself – I flew thousands of miles to do the same. But it seems a shame, to have given up something you’re so good at…’
‘Ah now, don’t you be worrying about me. I’m good at many things.’
And just like that, he’s back in flirtation mode, eyebrows raised and a twinkle in his eye. I can’t deny that I enjoy Ryan’s casual charm, but I also know that there are layers he keeps hidden. In his own way, he’s more buttoned-up than Charles, even though it’s trickier to spot at first.
I shake my head in exasperation, and say: ‘I’m sure you are, Ryan. Practice makes perfect after all.’
‘Any time you fancy a hands-on demonstration, Cassie, you just let me know…’
I have no desire to become another notch on this man’s tool belt, but I can’t deny that a little thrill runs through me as he says those words. The dreaded blush starts to creep over my skin, delighting him so much that he laughs out loud.
I’m saved from having to respond by Charles waving me over, and I grab my notebook and run. He wants to ask me about flowers, as Mary Catherine has suggested we contact the florist in Marshington Grange to order table decorations. I’m standing at his side discussing it when a very uncharacteristic hush falls over the pub. I’ve never seen anything that shuts this lot up before, and I look up to see what’s happening.
A strikingly beautiful woman has walked into the room, all lustrous dark hair and eyes that flash like diamonds. She’s dressed casually in skinny jeans and a red cashmere sweater, but everything about her – from the top of her glossy head to the tips of her skinny-heeled boots – screams class and elegance.
Running around her feet is a puppy – a Spaniel, I think – black and white, all adorable gangly legs and floppy ears. Everyone stares at her for a second, then the noise levels return to normal. I glance at Charles, see his nostrils flare and his body tense.
Ignoring everything around her, she strolls towards the bar. Cormac nods, and simply says: ‘The usual, Lenny?’
‘Yes please, darling.’
He takes a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf, and pours her a double on the rocks. She looks around, sipping, her eyes taking in everyone present and finally deigning to settle on Charles. There’s no way she didn’t know he was here but she feigns surprise, and trots towards us.
‘Charles!’ she says, widening her eyes and actually batting her lashes. ‘How splendid to see you – slumming it tonight, are we?’
Her laser-like gaze falls on me at his side, and I feel like a butterfly pinned to a collector’s board.
‘Leonora,’ he replies simply, his tone dripping ice. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Can’t a wife pop in to see her hubbie and child when she has a spare moment?’
‘Ex-wife. And no, she can’t.’
‘Oopsy, silly me then. Well, as I’m off to spend Christmas in Cape Town with Simon, I wanted to pay a quick visit to Georgie. I bought her a gift.’
She gestures down at the puppy, who very promptly squats and pees on Charles’s brogues.
‘Did you train him to do that?’ he asks, shaking it off.
‘No, but it was rather funny! Look, there’s no need to go all prickly on me – I genuinely just want to see her. I know you all miss Jasper, so when I saw this little fellow, I couldn’t resist. Obviously you can change his name, but I’ve been calling him Jasper as well. Thought it might be easier for Allegra.’
This seems like a thoughtful thing to do, but nothing about Charles suggests that he is relaxing. I glance over towards Ryan and Eileen, and see them both sitting with faces like thunder. Wow. Lenny really isn’t popular here. She must know that, it’s impossible to ignore the atmosphere, but she doesn’t seem to care – that, or she’s a spectacular actress.
‘I didn’t expect you to be here,’ she adds. ‘Just called in for a little Dutch courage. I’ll only stay for the night, be out of your hair tomorrow, I promise. I haven’t seen her for so long, darling.’
She sounds genuinely sad about this, and there is a pleading quality to her voice. I have no idea what kind of custody arrangements they have in place, but I remember Ryan saying she moved to the South of France. The impression I’ve always got is that she simply left, walked out on all of them, including her daughter. Families are complicated, and I’m not one to judge.
‘Fine,’ he says, relenting. ‘But please don’t turn up unannounced again. Mother is confused enough. And thank you – for the dog. He’s rather lovely.’
He crouches down and rubs the dog’s face between his hands, and Jasper the Second wriggles in delight.
While he’s otherwise engaged, Leonora stares at me, and if looks could kill I’d be six feet under. I’m taller than her, even with her high heels, but somehow she still seems to be looking down on me. Her eyes take in my loose hair, my chunky sweater, my jeans and sneakers. Take them in, then spit them out. I feel like a dirty-faced street urchin next to her – especially because she smells of Chanel, and I smell of stray dog.
‘Charles,’ she says, as he stands straight, ‘have you finally given in to temptation and found yourself a lovely village colleen to keep you company?’
‘No, he hasn’t!’ I snap back. I am not by nature an aggressive person, but this woman is just plain rude.
She laughs, and says: ‘Oh, a colonial! Well, that’s different.’
‘You say both those things as though they’re an insult,’ I reply, wondering if she’d look so smug if I punched her on the nose or threw her whiskey in her face. ‘But I’m happy to be both a colleen and a colonial. At least we have manners.’
‘That’s the spirit!’ she answers, infuriatingly unruffled.
Charles steps between us, and it immediately calms me down. This isn’t the right place for a catfight – in fact, nowhere is the right place for a catfight. I was raised better than that, even if she wasn’t. For all her obvious social standing, she’s clearly a mean girl, and I’ve had my fill of those.
‘Leonora, do shut up. This is Cassie. She’s a friend, and we’re working together. Work is a thing that normal people do to earn money – you wouldn’t know about that. You simply sleep with people to get it.’
Her eyes flare, but she still looks calm as she says: ‘Well, that didn’t exactly go as planned with you, my love, did it?’
Roberts joins us, and I’ve never seen such coldness in his eyes. He glares at her, silently, and that’s what seems to finally have an effect.
She knocks back her drink, calls Jasper, and walks towards the door. I see her pause near Ryan’s table, and his face is deadly. Cheering breaks out in the pub as she leaves, and Martin the comedian cries: ‘Ding dong, the witch is dead!’
Charles looks tired and shaken as he says: ‘I’m sorry about that. She’s a handful at the best of times, and even worse when she’s here and has to face up to things she’d rather forget. Look, can we reconvene tomorrow? I must get home – ideally before she does!’
I assure him that everything is fine, and go to the bar to get a drink. Orla already has a glass of Merlot poured for me, and grimaces in sympathy as I grab hold of it.
‘Is that woman a professional bitch,’ I ask, ‘or just a talented amateur?’
‘Oh, very much the professional – in a league of her own, that one! Pay no mind. She’s like one of those storms that blows all the trees down – here and gone in a day, leaving the wreckage behind her.’
I nod, sip my drink, and take some deep breaths before rejoining Ryan and Eileen. She pats my hand, and whispers: ‘She’s all fur coat and no knickers, sure!’
It makes me laugh, which is exactly what I need. Ryan’s expression is grim, and he runs his hands through his hair.
‘I’ll help with the pictures,’ he says seriously, ‘but I won’t step foot in that house until she’s gone.’