Chapter 8 #2
‘I don’t think any of your neighbours saw me,’ he confided, glancing around.
Ally couldn’t wait to get a cuddle from Patsy. She lifted the ball of fluff out of Pete’s arms and kissed the little snub nose before leading them into the sitting room.
‘Pizza?’
‘I wouldn’t say no.’ He grinned. ‘I didn’t have time to think of food with that crowd.’
She suddenly felt self-conscious, watching him glancing around her little flat.
‘Nice,’ he observed. ‘And I’m finally getting to meet your fish.’
‘You’re the first new people they’ve met, to be honest,’ she said, introducing Patsy to the tank, which he sniffed at happily, before struggling to be put down on the floor, where he began to explore, corner by corner.
‘I hate to ask, Pete, but is he house-trained?’
‘Not really, he’s a bit small . . .’
He took a doggie trainer-mat from his backpack and unfolded it on the kitchen floor.
Of course, she reminded herself, he’s a practical guy.
She’d been used to Francis immediately phoning ‘a man’ if there was a leak, or a door was wonky on its hinges.
Pete would set to it without thinking . .
. he was ‘a man’. He flopped down on the sofa with a sigh of relief and looked at her.
It struck Ally that she’d never actually been completely alone with him before.
‘Thank you. I really can’t tell you. I knew staying there wasn’t an option long term, but this has really brought it home to me.’
Ally handed him a glass of wine and half of the pizza.
‘Seriously, Pete, it sounds really dangerous. I don’t know how you stuck it out this long.’
‘Me neither. I suppose I didn’t know which end of me was up for a while. Really nice place, by the way,’ he said through a mouthful of pizza. ‘Cosy.’
‘You mean cramped. And the giant fish tank doesn’t help.’
She explained to him about the flat down in Grand Canal Dock where she used to live, about the sky-high rent and the balcony with the vista of hundreds of other exorbitantly priced apartments. And at the end of five years with Francis, what had she to show for it?
‘The rent or the relationship?’ He smiled ruefully.
‘Both, I suppose. Actually, that’s the first time I’ve put it all into words. So, what about you? I don’t want to be nosy, and you can tell me to mind my own business, but . . . what happened with your house?’
‘Later. So . . .’ He smiled shyly at her. ‘That was the ex. You know what? I wouldn’t have put the two of you together.’
That was interesting, coming from a complete stranger.
‘Really? You wouldn’t? How come?’
‘You’re a bit too . . . cool for him, I’d have thought.’
‘Me? Cool?’ She burst out laughing. ‘Are you kidding? I’m a massive klutz. Remember my jogging outfit and me being run over by . . . OK, I might as well admit it: my crush . . . on his racing bike?’
‘Ah jeez, yeah, I was wondering about that . . .’
‘Were you? Why?’
‘Something about the way you said “a guy I know”.’
Not much got by Pete, she realised.
‘I don’t really know him,’ she found herself blurting, rather too quickly, but Pete seemed to have moved on.
‘Still, you looked pretty good that day . . .’ He chuckled. ‘No, I stand by what I said. I think you’re cool.’
Had she just heard him say . . . ‘pretty good’?
‘Well, thank you. So, Pete, I noticed that you just changed the subject on me . . .’
He looked down and said nothing for a moment, till she wondered whether she had caused him offence.
‘I still haven’t worked through it,’ he said at last, meeting her gaze.
Ally thought back to what Rosemarie had discovered. There was no point in her playing dumb.
‘Pete, I hope you don’t mind, but I know you didn’t always do . . . what you’re doing now. I don’t want to pry but . . .’
She totally did, and she wondered if he didn’t look slightly relieved – maybe he wanted to be known after all.
‘Look, can this be just between us?’
‘Of course.’
‘Where do I start? I . . . used to . . . have a business. Building trade. With a very old friend of mine. We started off when we were young. I started as a bricklayer up at home in Monaghan, at seventeen, then ended up foreman. I was the youngest foreman in the business for a while.’
He said that with pride. No wonder he seemed competent! God, what must it feel like for him to be toiling away in Dave’s storeroom.
‘Then myself and my partner started out on our own. And . . . it took off. He’s a smart guy – an accountant, incredible instinct for the market, I’ll give him that.
He had a knack for sensing the next big opportunity.
I was the hands-on one. So, over our twenties, we built our portfolio, spread between here and London, thank God, which mostly saved us in the crash. ’
‘More than most people did,’ she remarked.
It sounded like Pete was trying to unravel a tangled ball of twine as he spoke.
‘I’m just trying to get my head around the scale of your business,’ said Ally. ‘You’re talking about it like it’s no big deal, but . . . this is huge.’
He huffed. ‘Yeah. But huge goes in both directions . . .’
The words hung in the air.
‘So, your partner . . .’
He looked at her uncertainly. ‘Tony. I was so tied up in running the business stuff . . . It’s a lot to organise.
But Jesus . . . looking back, I could kill myself for not being more .
. .’ He clicked his fingers impatiently at his head.
‘On the fucking ball. Excuse my language. Then one day, I get the brown envelope and it’s the inland revenue.
Apparently, there’s a lot of money outstanding. And I mean a lot.’
‘Oh no. Why?’
‘Money that was owed to the revenue – and I assumed had been paid – vanished . . . along with Tony.’
He shrugged and looked down at his glass. She remembered her manners and refilled them both.
‘It was my own fault. I forgot you can’t trust people. Anyhow, the Gardaí are in touch with the Spanish police looking for him but, surprise, surprise, no sign of him. But you know, nearly the worst thing about it is that I still miss him as a friend. Stupid, isn’t it?’
‘No. Pete, it’s not. And none of this is your fault.’
‘Doesn’t matter – once your signature’s all over it, you’re liable. Look, sorry if I’m boring you, Ally, I didn’t mean to come here and dump—’
‘Are you kidding, you’re not dumping. I mean . . . this is huge. God, Pete, I’m shocked – you’ve really been shafted.’
They were down to the last slice of pizza.
‘Have it.’ She smiled. ‘Save me.’
From behind her wine glass, she gazed at his broad chiselled face and five o’clock shadow, and judged his age at around forty-five. It was a striking face, nothing unformed or passive about it – the face of someone who made decisions and saw them through. He glanced up suddenly and caught her.
‘What?’
She blushed. ‘Sorry, I was just wondering how old you are . . . You just seem to have done so much.’ In truth, she was trying to cover her embarrassment.
‘Forty-one. I used to look younger.’ He smiled ruefully.
It struck Ally that once he’d hit trouble, his old cronies had melted into the background.
‘Is there anything I can do to help? My sister’s a lawyer. She’s in family law but she knows people.’
‘Ally, it’s OK, you already have helped me. Just being here with Patsy means the world.’
The little dog had curled up on the mat between them and was snoring peacefully.
‘So, tell me about you, miss Calvin Klein coat.’
So, he’d noticed that. What else had he noticed? Ally regaled him with the story of the fateful email and the disastrous firing – he laughed heartily, which kind of surprised her, since it hadn’t felt remotely funny at the time.
‘I love it,’ he muttered while standing up to tidy up. ‘Stingy wanker.’
He cleared away the glasses, and the now-empty wine bottle, and wiped down the counter. This was not a guy who was used to being waited on.
‘So . . . Pete, you promised to tell me later . . . which is now. What happened to your house?’ She was trying to sound nonchalant.
He paused and sighed, as though watching the scene on the inside of his head. ‘I’d put it in Tanya’s name, so she and the two boys would be OK.’
Tanya. OK.
‘Your sons?’
‘No, hers. But I’ve always thought of them as my own.’
Didn’t seem quite like it from where she was standing.
Ally didn’t want to pry any further, but it looked like Pete had somehow ended up far worse off than anyone around him, despite the fact he’d earned everything and done nothing wrong.
God, life really wasn’t fair. Did the mean people always come out on top?
He seemed distracted, so she found herself idly contemplating his body.
He wasn’t a gym-bunny type, just powerful in a natural way from a lifetime of being physically active.
There was a silence. It seemed as though Pete didn’t feel quite ready to tell her about his home – or rather, homeless – situation. Which of course was the bit she really wanted to hear about. In truth, she was exhausted. It had been a long day and she was starting to flag.
‘Look, this sofa wouldn’t fit a six-year-old. I’ll get you some cushions and you can put them on the floor.’
Suddenly, she began to feel self-conscious, which she tried to hide by rifling through the bedroom wardrobe, aware of the queen-sized bed that filled the poky space, leaving barely enough room to shuffle around it.
She emerged with a duvet and pillows and dumped them on the sofa.
‘Erm, I’ll give you a hand . . .’ She was painfully aware of behaving a bit strangely, then finally admitted the whole thing was ridiculous and gave up.
Pete was sitting on the sofa. They looked at each other and he grinned sheepishly. She felt the awkwardness of the weirdly intimate situation with someone she saw as a workmate and friend but . . . what would it be like to—?
‘Ally?’ She heard his voice. ‘Ally?’ he repeated.
‘What?’ She looked at him, furious with herself for blushing uncontrollably.
‘If this is awkward, I can go. Seriously, I get it. You’ve been really good, but I’d understand if . . .’