Second Time Around Part 23

'What's going to happen to him?' asked Lucy.

'We'll have him cremated.'

The three of them shuffled out to the waiting room and sat on green plastic chairs in the corner furthest from the door, nursing cups of tea provided by David's a.s.sistant Mary.

'I really ought to get back to work,' said Matt, taking a sip of tea and looking at his mobile phone.

'Don't go just yet,' said Lucy putting a hand on his knee. She did not want to be alone with her mother. She was only here in the same room as her because of m.u.f.fin.

They sat in silence for some long minutes and then Lucy, unable to keep the image of m.u.f.fin's horribly misshapen rear end out of her mind, asked, 'Do you think he suffered an awful lot?'

'His injuries were severe,' said Jennifer, plucking at the sodden hankie she clutched in her hand. 'But he wouldn't have suffered. Your Dad was there in a matter of minutes. He was wonderful. He injected him right there and then, on the road at the entrance to Oakwood Grove.'

Lucy winced m.u.f.fin always cried like a baby when he had his annual booster injections and Jennifer went on, 'Morphine, I think, for the pain and then later, something to knock him out. After that, he wouldn't have felt a thing.'

'But what was he doing in the middle of the road? Who was with him?' said Lucy. Was she imagining things or did Jennifer smell of stale drink? She looked at her face closely. There were faint black smudges under her eyes, the kind the girls in her shared house sometimes sported in the morning, when they'd gone to bed the night before without taking their mascara off properly. But Mum was always so fussy about her cleansing and toning routine it was a standing joke between Jennifer and Lucy, who had no need of cleansers because she never wore make-up in the first place. Jennifer shook her head and rested her chin against her chest. 'No one.'

'No one! Why was he off the lead?' persisted Lucy. 'He's never off the lead near roads.' It was a rule Dad had laid down when m.u.f.fin was a young and lively puppy and one that the family had never wavered from.

Jennifer said nothing for some long moments and then, finally, raised her head and stared straight at the posters on the wall ahead. 'He escaped from the garden. I let him out to go to the toilet. The side gate had been left open from the night before.'

'You left the side gate open?' accused Lucy. 'And then you let him into the garden?'

'It was an accident,' said Matt quietly, who up until now had been largely silent, caught up in his own thoughts.

'You were drunk last night, Mum. I can smell it on your breath and see it in your eyes.'

Jennifer looked away. 'It could've happened to anyone,' she said, not answering the charge.

'If you hadn't been drinking you would've shut the gate last night. And if you hadn't have had a hangover this morning you would've checked it when you put m.u.f.fin outside.'

'Don't give Mum a hard time, Lucy. Anyone can make a mistake,' said Matt, setting his mug on the floor as a look of utter misery came over Jennifer's face. 'm.u.f.fin's escaped before and he never got knocked down by a car, Lucy. You remember the time we found him at the old quarry, nearly half a mile away?'

It was a place she and m.u.f.fin used to escape to. The summer they moved into Oakwood, they'd spent many long hours lying in the long gra.s.s together around the rim of the quarry. She'd lain with her head on m.u.f.fin's panting chest, and squinted up at the blue sky, listening to crickets and the hum of b.u.mblebees and the fast, steady beat of m.u.f.fin's heart. She swallowed. 'So?'

'He was old. He'd lost most of his hearing and his eyesight was bad. He might not even have known he was on the road.'

Lucy blinked and said incredulously, 'What are you saying? It was m.u.f.fin's fault he got knocked down because he was old?'

Jennifer interrupted with, 'No, of course not. He never should have been out on his own. And I'll never forgive myself for that.' Her face twisted up as if she was about to burst into tears but she bit her bottom lip instead and her brows knitted together the way they did when she was concentrating very hard on something. 'But he was very near the end of his life. His arthritis was really bad this winter and he's had three bladder infections in the last four months. Life was becoming a struggle for him. He couldn't enjoy his walks the way he used to and he must've been in pain a lot of the time.'

'Are you saying that to make yourself feel better?' said Lucy.

'Lucy,' implored Matt, folding his ankles under his chair and his arms across his chest. 'I think Mum's trying to make us all feel better.'

'Well, I don't,' said Lucy, tearfully, addressing Matt. Her hands started to shake. 'Did you see the state of him? The way his legs were all bent and that awful gash on his shoulder.' She turned to Jennifer and stared straight into her eyes. 'I'll never forgive you for that. It's your fault m.u.f.fin's dead.'

Everyone fell silent. Dad came through the door at the end of the room. 'Look, why don't you all come back to the house with me for a bite of late lunch? Janice is going to reschedule my next client. I'll give Maggie a call and she'll rustle up some sandwiches or something. And while we're all together, it might be a good opportunity to ...' he paused and glanced at Jennifer, '... clear the air.'

'I'll need to give Ben a ring,' said Matt, standing up and pressing b.u.t.tons on his phone. 'I'm so late for work as it is.'

'Okay, son,' said David and Jennifer, who'd been sitting staring at the floor, looked up, suddenly alert. Matt went over to the window and began talking quietly into the phone, and Jennifer never took her eyes off him. She may have been the one to finish things with Ben Crawford, thought Lucy, but she was far from over him.

'Will you come, Jennifer?' said David and Jennifer dragged her eyes away from Matt.

'Oh, I don't know,' she said with a wary glance at Lucy. 'If Lucy's not prepared to believe me about what Oren did, I'm not sure there's any point.'

David scowled and Lucy said, 'So you're still flogging that old horse, Mum. Well, there's no way I'm going to sit in a room and listen to any more of your lies about Oren.'

Jennifer pressed her lips together in a thin, hard line and Lucy was filled with a sudden, desperate need to see Oren. She should not have ended the phone call on a sour note. She must get back to him, to tell him that she was sorry for her earlier truculence.

'I have to get back to Belfast,' she said abruptly. 'I need to see Oren.'

'Well, yes, of course,' said David with a slightly nervous glance at Jennifer. 'That's understandable, darling. But maybe he could come down to Ballyfergus later? You could both stay the night if you like.'

She glanced at her bag and the blue folder lying on the floor, both cast aside when she'd rushed in earlier. 'Oren can't come down tonight. I've already asked him and I left in such a rush I didn't bring any overnight things with me.'

'Won't you come for lunch at least?' said Dad, and she could tell he was getting a bit short with her. But she'd much rather incur his anger than Oren's.

'I can run you up to Belfast later if you like,' offered Jennifer and when she saw Lucy's face go red, she added, 'Seeing as your Dad has to work.'

Lucy picked up her bag and threw it over her shoulder. 'It's okay, thanks,' she mumbled, crouching down and picking up the folder. She stood up, held it against her chest and rested her chin on the edge. 'I'd really rather get the train. Can you give me a lift to the station now please, Dad?'

Chapter 22.

In the train on the way to Belfast Lucy consoled herself with the thought that though it had ended horribly, m.u.f.fin had enjoyed a good, long life in a loving home and she knew that they would one day meet in heaven. She would keep this to herself, of course, for Oren clearly disapproved of such a notion.

But as far as Lucy could make out the Bible was, as with so many other subjects, rather ambiguous on the matter. In fact, there were many ways to interpret the scriptures, and wasn't the proliferation of different churches proof of that? By the time the train pulled into Belfast Central station and Lucy emerged into the cold, dry night, she was all out of tears and the sharp pain of loss had eased to a dull ache. The earlier rush of adrenaline that had propelled her along the streets of the city that morning had left her exhausted. She boarded the bus back to her digs and climbed the stairs inside the house wearily, ignoring the shrieks of laughter and loud music coming from the lounge.

In her room she rested on the bed and a sudden thought struck her. Unless Mum was prepared to drop the ludicrous allegations against Oren, they might never be reconciled. A lump of anxiety formed in her stomach. She didn't want to be estranged from her mother. She loved her, yet she hated her for what she'd done in forcing Lucy to choose between her and Oren. And she hated her even more for clinging stubbornly to her story when everyone was prepared to forgive and forget the hysterical imaginings of a lonely, middle-aged woman.

She must look to Oren now, for her future lay with him. She imagined him, toiling over his essay with the end of a pen in his mouth and the perplexed expression on his face that she loved so much. She smiled, and decided there and then to pay him a surprise visit. She would take one of those Chinese or Indian meals from the supermarket over to his flat there was never anything half decent to eat in his house. She would tell him about m.u.f.fin and ask forgiveness for her earlier rudeness. And, after she'd prepared the meal and they'd eaten, she'd join him at the dining table and study quietly alongside him, the way she imagined they would sit together in the evenings when they were married and study pa.s.sages from the Bible.

Enthused by this idea, she jumped up and changed into a pale green jumper that Amy had once admired. She checked her reflection in the mirror with one quick glance, pausing only to register the redness of her eyes. She never lingered long on her face these days for she understood that true beauty came from within, from the goodness in one's heart.

An hour later, Lucy stood in front of a detached Victorian building that had been converted into three flats way back in the seventies. The walk had taken longer than she'd expected, and the handles of the supermarket bags she carried in both hands cut painfully into her palms, shutting off the blood supply to her fingers even though she wore thick woollen gloves.

It had started to rain a fine mist, the cold damp air cutting through her wool coat like a knife. And though her head was protected by a woollen beanie her cheeks stung with the cold. She was looking forward to the warmth of Oren's flat and his embrace.

She was relieved to see the lights on in Oren's ground-floor flat and his car parked outside. She couldn't wait one minute longer to see him. She imagined his surprise, and the big warm smile that would spread across his face when he saw her. She took the few short steps to Oren's front door and rang the doorbell. No answer. She pressed the bell again, a little longer, a little harder, and waited, staring at the elaborate Victorian tiled floor. Still no answer. Oren might be annoyed with her for coming over, but she had come all this way and was starving; she'd not had anything to eat since breakfast. She would just give it one more try. Putting a gloved index finger on the bell she gave it one long, last buzz.

A long time pa.s.sed and she was just about to abandon her visit, when she heard whispered voices from inside. Then the sound of the lock being sc.r.a.ped back. 'I've told you before, Phil. If you forget your key one more time ...'

When he saw her the words died on his lips. He was barefoot with a towel wrapped around his waist. His smooth well-defined chest looked a little red and damp and his hair was tousled, as if he'd just stepped out of a shower. Lucy, imagining herself naked, her small b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressing against his taut, bare flesh, blushed. She yearned for the day when they would be man and wife and he would take her, possess her in the deepest, most meaningful act between two people. Since the engagement, intimacy between them had progressed to the odd chaste kiss. But, if Oren hadn't been so principled, she would've given herself to him long ago.

'Surprise!' she said, suppressing these l.u.s.tful thoughts.

'Lucy,' he said under his breath, staring at her as if she were an alien just landed on his doorstep.

'Yes, it's me!' She laughed, took a step forwards and pecked him on the cheek, but he was so shocked by her appearance he did not return the kiss. 'I thought I'd surprise you,' she said, to fill the silence as Oren continued to stare, dumbfounded.

'But ... but I thought you were staying in Ballyfergus tonight?' he said, taking a step forward and pulling the door partially closed behind him.

'I changed my mind.' She sighed. 'After Dad put m.u.f.fin to sleep, I just wanted to get back to Belfast. You should've seen m.u.f.fin. He was in a bad way, Oren.' She sniffed and tears seeped out of her eyes, already so sore with crying. She brushed the tears away with a gloved hand and went on, 'I stroked his head and talked to him until he pa.s.sed away. I'm so glad I was there.'

'That's ... er ... good. And it's better that he's out of his misery.'

She smiled bravely, to show that she did not love m.u.f.fin more than G.o.d or Oren, and waited for him to invite her in.

'Lucy,' he said and paused, contorting his mouth into all sorts of odd shapes before finally spitting out, 'why are you here?'

'Oh,' said Lucy. Wasn't it obvious? She was upset by m.u.f.fin's death. And they were engaged to be married. Did she have to have a reason? 'I ... er ... I wanted to see you and to apologise for giving you a hard time about not giving me a lift up to Ballyfergus. I brought us an Indian meal,' she said, looking down at the bags at her feet, the contents spilling out onto the floor.

'But I have to work.'

'I know,' she smiled. It wasn't like Oren to get all wound up about coursework. He could clearly do with some moral support. 'I won't disturb you, I promise. I'll get the meal ready while you work and afterwards, I'll just sit with you and study.'

He glanced furtively over his shoulder and it occurred to Lucy that early evening was an odd time to be taking a shower unless he'd been playing rugby. But he hadn't said anything about training, or a match, earlier. 'Are you going to keep me standing here all night?' she said, peering past him into the hall and noticing then that, though his hair was dishevelled, it was not wet.

'You can't come in,' he blurted out.

'What?'

'I need the flat to myself. I need complete peace and quiet. You should have called.'

Lucy's face flushed with embarra.s.sment and the cruel pain of rejection, compounded by her raw grief, made her bottom lip quiver. She had overstepped the mark in coming here. She should have called. But he was supposed to love her. How could he leave her standing here like this? It had taken her forty-five minutes to walk all the way here from her house.

'But what about all this food?' she said pathetically while inside the flat someone flushed a toilet.

Oren tensed, the muscle on his jaw tightening, and Lucy said, 'Who's that?'

'Phil.'

'But,' she said slowly, 'you thought I was Phil.'

He looked at her curiously, a deep frown between his eyebrows.

'At the door. Just a second ago,' she said.

'Simon,' he said, understanding her meaning at last, 'I mean Simon.'

'You said you needed complete peace and quiet. If Simon's home, what difference does it make if I'm here too?'

Oren did not answer. His face was rigid and he would not look at her his eyes flickered right, then left. Something was not right. He was hiding something, someone, from her. She looked at his naked torso, now rough with gooseb.u.mps. Was that sweat and not water on his chest? Her stomach flipped and her throat went dry and she managed to blurt out, 'What's going on, Oren?'

But he did not need to answer, for a female voice from somewhere inside the flat called out, 'Who is it?' and Lucy froze, while everything fell into place. The girlish laughter she'd heard on the phone that morning; Oren's refusal to drive her to Ballyfergus; the essay that had to be finished. Had he been to Moira at all? Did the essay exist?

'Oh, Oren,' she whispered, as her heart turned to lead and all her dreams to dust.

'It's not what you think,' said Oren hastily and she shook her head.

'Don't,' she managed to squeeze out of lungs that did not want to work properly. 'Don't make it any worse than it already is.'

And he had the grace, that at least, to hang his head. 'I'm sorry,' was all he said and Lucy turned and fled.

'I brought you some beef ca.s.serole,' said Maggie with a big smile, standing on Jennifer's doorstep with a red coat on, black leather gloves, and high-heeled shoes she wore because she had a complex about being so much shorter than David. 'I didn't think you'd feel like cooking after yesterday. I know how much you loved m.u.f.fin.'

Jennifer, who had spent most of the previous night sobbing into a cus.h.i.+on, blinked, so pleasantly surprised by this spontaneous act of kindness that she almost forgot her manners. 'I ... er ... why, Maggie,' she b.u.mbled. 'That is so very nice of you. Please, won't you come in?'

Once inside Maggie placed the still-warm dish in Jennifer's hands.

'Thank you,' said Jennifer, while Maggie looked about, in the manner of a roosting bird intending to settle for a while. Jennifer didn't want to be rude but she wished Maggie would leave. She was wrung out emotionally, too tired and depressed by m.u.f.fin's death and everything else in her life that had gone spectacularly wrong to make small-talk.

'I see you've redecorated the hall,' commented Maggie. 'It looks nice. What's that lovely colour on the walls?'

'Elephant's Breath,' said Jennifer, trying and failing to remember the last time Maggie had been in her house. She was a little ashamed that it had been so long. 'It's a Farrow and Ball paint,' said Jennifer, forcing a smile. 'They go in for weird names. How do you fancy Dead Salmon or Cat's Paw?'

Maggie laughed and there was a pregnant pause. Because it would've been unforgivably rude not to, Jennifer asked, 'Would you like to have a drink with me, Maggie? If you have time.'

'Do you know what? I'd love one. A nice cup of tea, if it's not too much bother. I so rarely get one made for me. Which probably sounds like an odd thing to say.'

'Not at all,' rea.s.sured Jennifer, as she led the way into the kitchen and put the kettle on. 'I'd love a cuppa too. If it's any comfort I felt the same when my kids were young. But the good news is that you can look forward to them making you cups of tea when they're older. Before they fly the nest, that is.'

With m.u.f.fin gone, she really was all alone. She hardly saw Matt these days and it looked like her relations.h.i.+p with Lucy was all but over. Swallowing hard, she set the mugs down and got out a packet of chocolate digestives.

'I'm sorry about m.u.f.fin.' Maggie was staring at m.u.f.fin's empty basket and beside it, his food and water bowls. Her eyes filled with tears and Jennifer gulped.

'Thank you,' she said, her heart heavy with sorrow and guilt. 'You know, I'll never forgive myself, Maggie.'

'It was an accident, Jennifer.'

Jennifer, pouring boiling water into the teapot, was grateful for Maggie's compa.s.sion. But it didn't alleviate her grief. 'You know Lucy blames me. She was so angry.'

Maggie, her face unreadable, did not answer.

Jennifer set a plate of biscuits on the table and poured two mugs of tea. 'Does David know you're here?'

Maggie screwed up her nose. Jennifer sat down and pushed one of the mugs across the table. 'Thanks,' said Maggie, cradling it with both hands. 'And in answer to your question, no, not exactly.' Then she looked Jennifer in the eye, her own the colour of brushed steel. 'I told him I was taking the meal round to a widow from the church who's not been well. She's got senile dementia so if David ever mentions it, I can always claim she's forgotten.'

Jennifer opened her mouth in astonishment. She didn't need to ask why Maggie had used subterfuge to cover her tracks; that was obvious. Ever since the Oren incident things between Jennifer and David had been tense, yesterday's armistice aside, and no doubt Maggie didn't want to be caught up in the middle. Maggie poured milk into her tea and Jennifer asked slowly, 'So why are you here?'