side his bread is buttered she added. Fiona knew her husband would never stray in case he risked his partnership in her father’s lucrative law firm.
As she smoothed out another statement and searched for yet more proof of her husband’s lies, Aisling numbly realised that Michael had always buttered his own bread.
Her father had worked for an accountancy firm for twenty years and retired with just enough money to keep himself and her mother. Even if he had been able to help her husband in his meteoric rise to the top, Michael would never have accepted that help. He was a brilliant young journalist with his eyes firmly set on the top of the ladder and he had never needed family links to give him an entree into the corridors of power.
Now, at the age of forty, he was deputy editor of one of the most
successful Sunday newspapers in the country and, if his star continued to rise, he could soon be editor of one of the paper’s sister titles. I But she might not be the woman by his side when he did it!
Who would? She dropped the last of Michael’s statements onto the floor and rose to her feet slowly. She picked up the telephone by his side of the bed, not really seeing the empty orange juice glass he’d brought upstairs that morning and left for her to clear away. Under normal circumstances, she would have made the bed by this time and would probably be busy hoovering out the twins’ room, tidying the books, comics and toys they carelessly abandoned on the floor.
Right now she didn’t care if the whole house fell apart. She simply had to know what was happening, who Michael was seeing. And, maybe,
find out that it was all some horrible mistake.
CHAPTER TWO
Fiona answered on the second ring.
“I was just about to phone you she exclaimed, ‘to see if you fancied a trip into Dun Laoghaire to check out the shops.
There’s this lovely John Rocha suit I noticed in a magazine at the weekend and I’ve decided to splash out. We could have our coffee there, couldn’t we? Or are you on bread and water for tonight?”
“I can’t go shopping now, Fiona.” Aisling’s voice quivered.
She’d planned to be stoical, but Fiona’s warm and friendly voice made her want to sit down and sob.
“I don’t know what to do …. It’s about Michael,” she managed to say hoarsely.
“You knew, didn’t you?”
Aisling could hear her friend’s sharp intake of breath down the phone and for a brief moment she held her breath, hoping there was some reasonable explanation for the hotel bill, the flowers and the underwear.
“Knew what?”
“That he’s having an affair.”
“Oh God, Ash. I wish you’d never found out.”
As she looked out the window at Fiona’s perfectly manicured garden across the road, Aisling was amazed to see everything looking exactly the way it had the day before. The grass neatly shorn like a barber’s number one cut, the petunias spreading out greedily in between the tiny fragrant lavender bushes. How could everything look so damn normal when her life had just suffered a cataclysmic upheaval?
“I’m sorry, so sorry,” repeated Fiona.
“I just didn’t know how to tell you, how to find the words. I hoped it would blow over before you found out. That’s the best way, he gets it out of his system and you never find out,” she added prosaically.
“I
thought it was better not to say anything. But I kept wishing I’d never seen them, because I felt so disloyal to you.”
“Just tell me who it is,” Aisling interjected, her tone pleading.
“Just tell me …”
Fiona paused and then spoke again, her voice strong and calm, as though reassuring a small child.
“It doesn’t mean anything, Ash, honestly. They all do it, and then they get over it. Remember that, OK?”
“They all do it,” repeated Aisling hysterically.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. It’s just supposed to make you feel less alone,” Fiona
“You don’t know her she continued in the
As she smoothed out another statement and searched for yet more proof of her husband’s lies, Aisling numbly realised that Michael had always buttered his own bread.
Her father had worked for an accountancy firm for twenty years and retired with just enough money to keep himself and her mother. Even if he had been able to help her husband in his meteoric rise to the top, Michael would never have accepted that help. He was a brilliant young journalist with his eyes firmly set on the top of the ladder and he had never needed family links to give him an entree into the corridors of power.
Now, at the age of forty, he was deputy editor of one of the most
successful Sunday newspapers in the country and, if his star continued to rise, he could soon be editor of one of the paper’s sister titles. I But she might not be the woman by his side when he did it!
Who would? She dropped the last of Michael’s statements onto the floor and rose to her feet slowly. She picked up the telephone by his side of the bed, not really seeing the empty orange juice glass he’d brought upstairs that morning and left for her to clear away. Under normal circumstances, she would have made the bed by this time and would probably be busy hoovering out the twins’ room, tidying the books, comics and toys they carelessly abandoned on the floor.
Right now she didn’t care if the whole house fell apart. She simply had to know what was happening, who Michael was seeing. And, maybe,
find out that it was all some horrible mistake.
CHAPTER TWO
Fiona answered on the second ring.
“I was just about to phone you she exclaimed, ‘to see if you fancied a trip into Dun Laoghaire to check out the shops.
There’s this lovely John Rocha suit I noticed in a magazine at the weekend and I’ve decided to splash out. We could have our coffee there, couldn’t we? Or are you on bread and water for tonight?”
“I can’t go shopping now, Fiona.” Aisling’s voice quivered.
She’d planned to be stoical, but Fiona’s warm and friendly voice made her want to sit down and sob.
“I don’t know what to do …. It’s about Michael,” she managed to say hoarsely.
“You knew, didn’t you?”
Aisling could hear her friend’s sharp intake of breath down the phone and for a brief moment she held her breath, hoping there was some reasonable explanation for the hotel bill, the flowers and the underwear.
“Knew what?”
“That he’s having an affair.”
“Oh God, Ash. I wish you’d never found out.”
As she looked out the window at Fiona’s perfectly manicured garden across the road, Aisling was amazed to see everything looking exactly the way it had the day before. The grass neatly shorn like a barber’s number one cut, the petunias spreading out greedily in between the tiny fragrant lavender bushes. How could everything look so damn normal when her life had just suffered a cataclysmic upheaval?
“I’m sorry, so sorry,” repeated Fiona.
“I just didn’t know how to tell you, how to find the words. I hoped it would blow over before you found out. That’s the best way, he gets it out of his system and you never find out,” she added prosaically.
“I
thought it was better not to say anything. But I kept wishing I’d never seen them, because I felt so disloyal to you.”
“Just tell me who it is,” Aisling interjected, her tone pleading.
“Just tell me …”
Fiona paused and then spoke again, her voice strong and calm, as though reassuring a small child.
“It doesn’t mean anything, Ash, honestly. They all do it, and then they get over it. Remember that, OK?”
“They all do it,” repeated Aisling hysterically.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. It’s just supposed to make you feel less alone,” Fiona
“You don’t know her she continued in the
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