Chapter 14
Claire listened to Luca’s voicemail, wishing she could rewind and start the morning again.
She felt such an idiot now for running off like that, mortified that Luca might see it as the behaviour of a jealous girlfriend.
It was true she had been angry at being confronted by another woman in his flat, but only because she hadn’t wanted to be put in an awkward situation.
If only she’d stuck around for a few minutes instead of high-tailing it out of the door, she’d have found out that the girl was his sister.
It made sense, now that she thought about it.
She had the same colouring as Luca – the same olive skin, dark hair and brown eyes.
She hadn’t even known that he had a sister.
He never mentioned his family – not that they spent a lot of their time talking.
It occurred to her that she knew very little about him.
It would have been nice to stay and meet his sister – and then she could have spent the rest of the day in bed with him having amazing sex.
She felt a pang of regret, longing to turn around and go back.
But now she was reluctant to face him, embarrassed about the way she had left.
She called Luca back and told him she had things to do today but she would see him that evening.
It was a beautiful day, unusually warm for May, and as she walked into town, the pavement cafés were already full of people sitting outside, enjoying the sunshine.
It lifted her spirits. The weather seemed to put everyone in a good mood, and the city felt like a happier, friendlier place.
She found it endearing the way Irish people got completely overexcited at the first hint of sun, immediately donning summer clothes and sunglasses, heading to the beach and dining al fresco.
She loved days like this when the world seemed full of promise.
She just wished she had someone to share it with.
If she hadn’t been such an eejit, she could have been sharing it with Luca and his sister.
Still, she wasn’t going to let that get her down and spoil the day.
Determined to make the most of it, she decided to treat herself to breakfast in her favourite café.
She walked to Dame Street, and read her book while lingering over a delicious full Irish in the Queen of Tarts.
But though breakfast alone with a good book was usually her idea of bliss, today she struggled to feel content.
She was usually happy in her own company, but now she felt unsettled and restless.
Maybe it was because of the weather or perhaps because her mother had been away from home for the past couple of weeks and she had had enough of the solitude, but she craved companionship.
When she got home, she decided to ring Mark to cheer herself up. She dialled his number, buoyed at the prospect of having someone to talk to, even if it was at a distance.
‘Claire, hi!’ He sounded gratifyingly pleased to hear from her and his friendly voice cheered her up. ‘Great to hear from you. How are you?’
‘I’m good.’ She smiled into the phone. Better now. ‘How are you?’
‘Still getting the run-around from Millie,’ he said, with a sigh, ‘but otherwise I’m fine.’
‘Oh no! What’s Millie up to?’
‘She left me – for the bloke across the road.’
‘Ouch! That’s a bit close to home.’
‘Tell me about it – she didn’t even have the decency to try to hide it. Every day she’d be there, flaunting herself in his front window, where she knew I’d see her.’
‘Well, you’re better off without her.’
‘Oh, she’s home again now. Came slinking back last night with her tail between her legs.’ He sighed. ‘That’s not true, actually – her tail was in the air. She’s shameless.’
‘And you took her back?’
‘What can I say? I’m putty in her paws.’
Claire laughed.
‘So, what are you up to today? Are you getting this lovely weather over there?’
‘Yes, it’s gorgeous. I’m going to visit my mother this morning. Maybe I’ll meet up with a friend later on, and do something.’
‘How is your mother?’
‘She’s good, doing well. How about you? What are you doing?’
‘I’m meeting the guys for a run on the Heath – I’m just waiting for them now. And later a bunch of us are going for brunch – a new place by the canal in Little Venice.’
‘That sounds lovely,’ Claire said wistfully, suddenly feeling very distant from Mark ? he had a whole life she knew nothing about, a life she wasn’t part of. She didn’t know who his friends were; she couldn’t picture him with them. He seemed so remote from her.
‘It’s a perfect day for it,’ Mark broke into her thoughts. ‘I wish you could come.’
‘Me too.’ She sighed.
‘Or that I could be there with you. We could go to the Iveagh Gardens.’
She smiled, thinking of their kiss.
‘Any chance of you getting over next weekend? I’m dying to see you.’
Claire thought. She knew her mother wouldn’t mind.
She was safe and cared-for in the nursing home and would have plenty of visitors at the weekend.
She would drum it into her brothers that they had to visit too.
‘Yeah, that should be doable,’ she said.
‘I’ll look into flights and stuff and get back to you. Okay?’
‘Great! Well, the guys are here. I’d better go.’
‘Okay. Have fun.’
‘Looking forward to seeing you again.’
‘Yeah, me too. Bye.’ Claire hung up, cheered by the thought of next weekend, but she quickly became deflated again.
It was nice to have something to look forward to, but that didn’t solve her need for company right now.
In a way, talking to Mark had only made her feel more isolated, and a bit sad.
Determined not to let it get her down, she rang a couple of friends to see if anyone wanted to meet up later.
But Jane, an old school friend, was too busy ferrying her son around all day to parties and sports, and Catherine was on her way to a wedding in Wicklow.
Oh well, she would visit her mother, then spend the afternoon reading in the garden before heading back to Luca’s.
There were a lot worse ways to spend a day.
She was dressed too warmly for the weather, so she swapped her boots for flat pumps and changed into cropped jeans and a short-sleeved top before going to the nursing home.
She grabbed a light summer jacket from the wardrobe and was on the way out to the car when she got a call on her mobile.
It was one of the care staff from the home, requesting her to see the manager when she was next visiting.
She explained that she was on her way and said she would speak to Mrs Byrne when she got there.
Damn, she thought, as she tossed her mobile onto the passenger seat and put on her seatbelt.
She could have done without that today. She didn’t like Theresa Byrne and hated having to deal with her.
She was a tough woman, who tried hard to come across as caring and maternal, but underneath the phony facade she was a hard-hearted bully.
Claire found her intimidating. She was hopeless at dealing with people like that and always let them get the better of her.
Still, she shouldn’t let herself get wound up about it – it was probably just some administrative formality she needed to see her about.
When she arrived at the home, one of the nursing staff showed her to Theresa’s office. She was sitting behind her desk – a plump, middle-aged woman with iron-grey hair cut in a rigid bob that was a monument to hairspray. Claire had never seen it move.
‘Ah, Claire.’ She looked up. ‘Thank you for coming. Have you been in with Mum?’
‘No, I’m on my way now. I called here first. You wanted to see me?’
‘Yes. Sit down.’ She waved Claire to the seat in front of her desk, then leant forward confidentially. ‘Are you aware that we had an incident last night?’
Claire’s stomach turned over. She knew Theresa meant her mother – she was a big fan of the royal ‘we’ – and her mother’s ‘incidents’ usually involved ambulances, paramedics, heart-stopping races to hospital and teams of doctors working to bring her back to life.
Why hadn’t anyone called her? Jesus, had they called the house and she wasn’t there? But they had her mobile number.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ Theresa reassured her, clasping her hands together on the desk, as if in prayer.
‘Not a medical emergency?’
‘Oh no! Nothing like that. Although we did end up having to call an ambulance for poor June…’
Claire wondered why she was being told about June, whoever she was.
‘I’m sorry if I gave you a fright, dear,’ Theresa said.
Claire nodded, disliking the woman more than ever.
‘Let me explain.’ Theresa drew a deep breath and assumed a solemn expression. ‘As you know, residents aren’t supposed to have alcohol in their rooms.’
Claire had an awful feeling she knew where this was going, but she was so giddy with relief that nothing serious had happened to her mother that she didn’t really care.
‘It’s for their own good. The rules are there for everyone. Of course, we let them have a little drink on special occasions, but it’s all properly regulated. We have a duty of care to our residents…’
Claire sat back and let Theresa’s words wash over her.
Apparently her mother’s friends had been smuggling in drink for her and she had been holding raucous parties in her room, her fellow residents crowding in, getting drunk and disorderly, then staggering back to their own rooms trying to support each other when they could barely support themselves with their Zimmer frames and walking sticks.
Last night, one of Espie’s friends, June, had fallen and broken her wrist. According to Theresa, June was being very stoical about it and was standing up for ‘Mum’, but her family had taken a dim view and were threatening to sue the home and go to the papers with their story.
‘Mum’s a bit of a live wire, isn’t she?’ Theresa said, creasing her face into a facsimile of a sympathetic smile.