Chapter 10

‘HEY, LOOK AT the champ,’ Michael laughed, taking his sleepy, two-day-old nephew from his sister’s arms and holding him at arm’s length to get a good look.

Colleen stood beside him and resting her head on his shoulder gazed adoringly at her new son.

‘He’s just like me when I was his age,’ Billy, her three-year-old, told Michael, looking earnestly up at his uncle from his little standpoint of two feet eight. ‘Nana said. She said Charlie is like me, and I am like you and Daddy which can only mean trouble. Can I come up too?’

‘Please,’ Colleen reminded him.

‘Please,’ he repeated.

Laughing, Michael scooped him up in his other arm and carried both nephews through the jumble of toys, changing mats and casually dumped clothes, to the sofa. Dan, his brother-in-law and partner, was on the other sofa making sure Tierney, his five-year-old daughter, was getting her share of attention.

‘So, are you pregnant again yet?’ Michael asked Colleen, as he stretched out on the sofa with the two boys on top of him. ‘Nice one, Charlie,’ he remarked, as the baby threw up on his shoulder and Billy started to bounce dangerously close to his groin.

Colleen’s vivid blue eyes were dancing with laughter as she swept her unruly black curls back from her face while she sponged off Michael’s sweater and Michael kept a firm hand on Billy. ‘He says he’s not up to it yet,’ she told him, nodding towards Dan. ‘Give me a break, he says, I’ve only just given birth. Oh, and it was a terrible time you had in the hospital, was it not, my darling?’ she teased, going over to tweak Dan’s nose. ‘All those nurses making such a fuss of you.’

‘It was hell,’ Dan agreed with feeling. ‘I swear I’m never going through it again.’

‘Mummy, can I feed Charlie next time?’ Tierney asked.

‘What, with those little boobies?’ Colleen laughed.

‘Tell her you’ve got lovely boobies,’ Dan said, wincing as Tierney twisted his sparse fair hair around her grandmother’s curlers. ‘It’s why I’m going bald, or so your mother tells me,’ he said to Michael. ‘I didn’t get enough of my mother’s milk.’

‘Clodagh said that?’ Michael laughed, looking across the sitting-room and through the dining-room to the small flower garden at the back where his mother and Cavan, who’d jetted in the night before for a flying birthday visit, were in earnest reunion. Earnest reunion in Clodagh’s language meant a serious ticking off for not respecting his mother sufficiently to stay in one place long enough for her to look it up in the atlas. Michael grinned when he saw the look on his brother’s face, for as adult and independent as he’d become, there was no arguing with Clodagh and he knew it. Then, to Michael’s great amusement, Cavan suddenly stopped his mother mid-sentence by sweeping her into his arms and treating her to a resounding kiss. It was a gesture so typical of Michael that he laughed out loud. Not only did Cavan, with his long, untidy dark hair, intense navy eyes and devastating smile, look like his older brother, he was starting to behave like him too.

‘Uncle Michael?’ Billy said from atop Michael’s head.

‘Yes Billy,’ Michael replied.

‘Can we play soldiers up in my bedroom?’

‘You’ve got soldiers! In your bedroom!’ Michael exclaimed.

Billy’s face lit up. ‘Can we go and play with them?’ he said. ‘Charlie can’t come, he’s too little.’

‘Can I come?’ Tierney cried, leaping down from her father’s knee and tearing a curler from his hair as she went.

‘Tierney, go steady,’ Colleen told her, stretching her legs out in front of her as she relaxed in a giant armchair. ‘Daddy doesn’t have much as it is and you’ve just taken half of it.’

Tierney looked confused.

‘Give Charlie to Mummy,’ Billy instructed Michael, starting to push the baby away.

‘Give Charlie to Daddy,’ Colleen corrected. ‘Are you cooking dinner, Michael? Clodagh said you were.’

‘Clodagh’s full of it today,’ Michael commented, passing the baby over to Dan.

‘Stay the night and have a drink,’ Colleen said, as he swung Tierney in the air and made her laugh with delight.

‘Daddy, I want you to play soldiers too,’ Billy said, pulling his dad’s arm.

‘What about Charlie?’ Dan replied. ‘We can’t leave him on his own with Mummy, she might take him back.’

‘Can you put him back in your tummy?’ Tierney asked, looking wide-eyed at her mother.

‘Come and give your mummy a kiss,’ Colleen said, holding out her arms.

Michael carried his niece over and depositing her on Colleen’s lap, he allowed Billy to lead him out across the smart but cluttered entrance hall to the stairs.

‘And where might you two be off to?’ Clodagh demanded, coming in through the kitchen with Cavan behind her.

‘Nana, Uncle Michael’s going to play soldiers,’ Billy told her eagerly. ‘And then we might play Batman. I’ve got a Batman outfit now,’ he said to Michael. ‘Nana bought it for me, didn’t you, Nana?’

‘Spoiled rotten,’ Clodagh responded, her clear blue eyes sparkling with love as she looked at her grandson. She was a small woman with neat white hair, a wrinkled face and a love for her family that was only matched by theirs for her.

‘Do you think Nana would buy me one too?’ Cavan asked Billy. ‘If I’m a good boy.’

Billy laughed. ‘You’d look silly in a Batman outfit, wouldn’t he Nana?’ he said.

‘Darling, he doesn’t need a Batman outfit to make him look silly,’ Clodagh responded.

‘He’s got a mother instead,’ Michael chipped in.

Clodagh laughed and cuffed Cavan round the ear because Michael was out of reach. ‘I told our Colleen you were cooking dinner,’ she said to Michael. ‘Are you going to make your mother a liar?’

Cavan burst out laughing. ‘She does it every time,’ he said, putting an arm around her.

‘You can help,’ Clodagh told him, ‘and I’ll take the kids upstairs to give our Colleen and Dan a bit of time to themselves before we eat.’

‘Are you angling for more grandchildren already?’ Michael teased.

Clodagh fixed him with a look only Clodagh could give. ‘Well, if I waited around for you I’d be having to rise up from me grave to come visit them,’ she told him.

‘Give me a chance,’ he groaned, ‘I’ve only just learned how to do it.’

‘Do you think you could teach me?’ Cavan asked. ‘I seem to be having a bit of a problem with the condoms. I can’t get the bubbles out.’

‘Clodagh’s an expert on bubbles,’ Michael informed him. ‘It was her who showed me how to dress a banana when I was nineteen, am I right?’

‘And you’ve never let me forget it,’ she scolded, though her eyes, which were so like Michael’s, were twinkling with laughter at the memory.

‘What’s a condom?’ Billy asked, his upturned face looking from one to the other.

Clodagh and Cavan looked expectantly at Michael. Michael looked back. Then swinging Billy up into Clodagh’s arms he said, ‘I’m cooking dinner. Clodagh, I love you and if you weren’t my mother I’d marry you.’

‘He’s been saying that since he was six,’ Clodagh told Billy. ‘You’d think he’d have found a new line by now, wouldn’t you, after all that education? Come on, let’s go and get that Tierney and Charlie. I expect Charlie would like to meet your soldiers, don’t you?’

Michael and Cavan wandered into the kitchen and after pouring themselves a large whisky each they set about preparing the evening meal. It wasn’t unusual for them to take over Colleen’s kitchen when the whole family were together, since Colleen loathed cooking and both Michael and Cavan were pretty good at it. As they began rummaging through the fridge, freezer and cupboards to sort out what to prepare, Cavan was filling Michael in on his time in Manaus. His plane had landed at ten the night before, to be met by a taxi Jodi had arranged to take him straight to Michael’s. Michael had come in from dinner shortly after midnight to find his brother crashed out in the guest room, where he had stayed until Michael had turfed him out at midday to get himself ready to go and see Clodagh. So they’d had little time to catch up and though Cavan was obviously bursting with news, Michael’s mind kept wandering along avenues he’d rather not go down.

He wasn’t sure whether it was Cavan with his passion for lost causes that was making him think of Michelle, or if it was the new baby and what might have been had Michelle stayed. But she hadn’t and now so much time had gone by it no longer mattered. Except during odd moments like this, when for some reason her absence was so strong it felt more like a presence.

‘So there I was, scooting up this damn tree,’ Cavan was saying as he set about peeling some potatoes, while Michael plucked a bulb of garlic from a rope to start stuffing a leg of lamb, ‘when this bloody monkey drops on my head and we both hit the deck screaming. Whereupon the wolf, or whatever the bloody thing was, runs back off into the jungle in terror, maybe to get his mates, maybe not, I didn’t hang around to find out. I was back in the landie and heading for camp, with the damned monkey that I couldn’t get rid of. Stuck on me, it was, in every way. Made a right bloody fool of me too …’ He stopped and looked round as Dan came in.

‘Colleen’s about to feed Charlie,’ Dan said, ‘so we’re going upstairs to lie on the bed. She wants her feet massaged while she does it and you know your sister’s every wish is my command. Help yourselves to … Ah, you’ve already got one. Did you pour me one too?’

‘Coming right up,’ Cavan said, walking round the breakfast bar to the dresser where the drinks were kept under lock and key, after Tierney and Billy had got drunk on sherry one day.

‘Are you coming into the office this week?’ Michael asked Dan, setting the lamb in a roasting tray, then searching out some rosemary in the fresh herb pots on the window sill.

‘If you want me to,’ Dan answered. ‘Why? Is there a problem?’

‘Not that I can think of.’

‘I’m preparing some pension plans for the Delaney Group,’ Dan said, referring to one of the other companies he was finance director of, ‘so I’ll be tied up with that for the next couple of weeks. Sheila’s managing without me, I take it?’

‘Where would we all be without Sheila?’ Michael smiled. ‘I promoted Sandy Paull, by the way. Did anyone tell you?’

‘Clodagh mentioned it eighteen or nineteen times,’ Dan answered, taking the drink Cavan was passing him. ‘She’s full of the girl lately, thinks she’s the best thing since tights.’

Michael and Cavan looked at each other and laughed. ‘Only Clodagh would think tights were a good thing,’ Cavan remarked.

‘And only Clodagh would think Sandy Paull was,’ Michael responded. ‘Actually, Clodagh and the best part of my staff.’

Dan’s eyes were suddenly simmering with humour. ‘Shit, I forgot, she’s got a thing for you, hasn’t she?’

‘Show me a woman who hasn’t,’ Cavan chipped in, ducking as Michael threw a tea-towel at his head. ‘So what’s she like, this Sandy whatever her name is?’

‘I’ll tell you what she’s like,’ Dan jumped in, ‘she’s the only woman I’ve ever seen make Michael McCann blush.’

Cavan’s eyes lit up. ‘A bit of a goer, is she?’ he said, warming to the idea of teasing his brother.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Michael replied. ‘But she certainly behaves as though she is. Dan, is that Colleen calling?’

Dan listened. ‘Ah, the honeyed tones of my very own Cruella DeVille,’ he intoned as Colleen yelled for him again. ‘What a happy man I’ve been since marrying into your family. Not only do I get your fair sister, but I get your fair mother too. Ah, and my very own little people,’ he added, as the baby started to cry and Billy shouted down the stairs for him to come and play soldiers because Nana and Tierney kept shooting the wrong side.

An hour or so later they were all carrying piping hot dishes to the big round dining-table, their mouths watering as Cavan set down the delicious garlic-and-rosemary scented lamb, while Tierney complained she couldn’t see as her father lit the candles and lowered the lights. Then all the usual arguments started as to whom the children were going to sit next to, so Michael ended up with Billy one side of him and Clodagh the other, while Tierney sulked between her parents because she couldn’t sit next to Michael too, because Nana wanted to sit between her sons. It was a warm May evening so the French windows were open and the lights were on in the toy-cluttered garden. It was such a perfect family scene that the poignancy of it seemed to reach them all for a moment, even the children, who sat quietly looking at the grown-ups as though awaiting permission to speak.

Michael’s eyes were sparkling with humour as he picked up a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and winked at Tierney. ‘Clodagh, are you going to have some wine?’ he offered, holding the bottle over his mother’s glass.

‘Is the Pope a Catholic?’ Cavan responded.

‘There he goes, blaspheming again,’ Clodagh chided. ‘Pour me a little drop, Michael. I’ll see if I like it.’

Tierney gave a shout of laughter, though it was clear she didn’t really know what at, but it provided everyone else with an excuse to do the same.

‘So, Cavan, tell us more about Rio,’ Colleen said, as they began to eat. ‘Is it as dangerous as they say?’

Cavan nodded as he took a mouthful of lamb. ‘In parts,’ he answered when he could. ‘It’s a beautiful place, though. And wild. There’s so much going on, you have to see it to believe it. The beaches are heaving with people and everything stays open right through the night. The music never stops, everyone’s dancing and singing, it’s like a carnival every night, so God knows what the real thing is like when it comes time for Mardi Gras. And the girls! I’ve never seen bodies like it. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven, so I did.’

‘I expect that’s what they thought when they saw you,’ Clodagh told him.

Dan and Michael laughed as Colleen teased him about borrowing Michael’s razors, while Cavan studiously ignored them and said, ‘You know, Ma, you could be right.’

‘What about the wreck?’ Michael asked. ‘Did you get down to see it?’

‘Twice,’ Cavan answered. ‘They reckon it could date back to the Conquistadors, which would make it a pretty important find. They’ve got a team of experts working on it already, researching the stuff they’re bringing up.’

‘Any treasure?’ Colleen asked.

‘Only in the historical sense,’ he answered.

‘So where are you staying there?’ Clodagh asked.

‘I’ve borrowed someone’s apartment in Leme, which is almost on the Copacabana beach,’ he said, picking up his wineglass. ‘You should think about coming back with me for a holiday. There’s someone there you know.’

Everyone expressed surprise as they looked at Cavan and from just the look on his brother’s face Michael’s insides started to tighten.

‘Someone she knows? In Rio?’ Colleen said, incredulously. Already Cavan was looking uncomfortable, almost as though he regretted saying anything, which made his sister more curious than ever.

‘Who is it?’ she asked.

‘She’s got friends all over the world, has Clodagh,’ Dan informed them. ‘She’s a secret agent really for the IKA, the Irish Knitting Army.’

Colleen nudged him as Cavan laughed. Then to her surprise Cavan threw her a warning look and half nodded towards Michael.

‘Cavan?’ Colleen said, glancing at Michael. ‘Who does Ma know in Rio? Is this some secret admirer we’re about to discover?’

Cavan stared at her hard, as though telling her to shut up.

‘I think,’ Michael interrupted, ‘what Cavan is having a problem telling you is that Michelle is in Rio. Am I right?’ he added, looking at Cavan.

Cavan’s colour was answer enough.

‘Michelle?’ Clodagh cried. ‘You mean our Michelle? Well, how is she? I didn’t know she was in Brazil, she never said. But I haven’t received a letter for a while. Did you send her my love, Cavan?’

‘Of course I did,’ he assured her.

‘What is she doing there?’ Colleen asked.

‘Working with the street children,’ Cavan answered. ‘She’s got …’

He broke off abruptly and everyone but Michael, looked at him again. ‘She’s got what?’ Clodagh prompted.

Cavan shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. Then turning to Michael. ‘How did you know she was in Rio?’ he asked.

‘A lucky guess,’ Michael smiled.

‘Are you in touch with her again?’ Clodagh wanted to know.

Michael shook his head. ‘I told you, it was a lucky guess,’ he repeated. ‘But the way this family clams up whenever her name’s about to be mentioned is always a give-away.’

‘I don’t know why you ever let her go, Michael,’ Clodagh sighed. ‘She was a lovely girl. And you two were made for each other, anyone could see that.’

‘Let’s leave it there,’ Michael said. ‘It was a long time ago and we’ve been over it enough times since.’

‘But you should listen to your mother,’ Clodagh persisted. ‘Swallow that pride of yours and go after her. She’ll forgive you, Michael. I know she will.’

Michael started to laugh. ‘Who said there was anything to forgive?’ he asked. ‘She did the leaving, not me. It was her choice.’

‘But you’ve got to fight for a woman,’ Clodagh told him. ‘Especially if she’s a woman like Michelle, because they don’t come along with the number fourteen bus, you know. You let her slip through your fingers, Michael, and you’ve regretted it ever since. Now don’t deny it,’ she said, putting a hand over his as he started to speak. ‘I’m your mother, I know these things. You haven’t settled down to another relationship since and the Good Lord knows you’ve met enough women. So now you know where she is, why don’t you drop her a line and tell her you forgive her.’

Michael’s expression showed only humour. ‘So it’s me who has the forgiving to do now, is it?’ he said.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Clodagh responded. ‘What’s important is that you two get back together, the way you belong. Or get yourself out there, son, and find yourself someone else. Just stop all this playboying around, because it doesn’t suit you.’

‘No, it doesn’t, does it?’ Dan agreed, evidently enjoying himself. ‘And there’s Sandy right there in the office, who’d make him a perfect wife and he …’

Clodagh was swallowing fast. ‘A lovely girl,’ she said, taking up the theme warmly. ‘Pretty, too, and she’s very fond of you, Michael, she told me. And she’s been working for you six months or more and you never said a thing.’

‘You knew she was there, you were speaking to her on the phone every week.’

‘But I didn’t meet her until recently, so I had no idea she was so lovely.’ Looking at Cavan, she said, ‘She took me to one of those press screenings, you know where the stars and the newspaper people go. We had a marvellous time, the two of us. Took me in a taxi, she did, then saw me home after. I don’t know where you were, Michael, but you missed a very good film.’

‘I expect he was with Fiona,’ Colleen remarked. ‘Or am I out of date?’

Michael rolled his eyes. ‘Shall we change the subject?’ he suggested.

‘Yes, tell us more about Michelle, Cavan,’ Colleen said, helping Billy help himself to more carrots. ‘How long’s she been in Rio?’

‘Only a few weeks,’ Cavan answered, pouring more wine into Clodagh’s glass and waiting for her to stay stop. When she didn’t he winked at Dan and carried on filling it right to the brim.

‘Oh, look what you’ve done now, you silly boy,’ Clodagh complained.

‘I’ll finish what you can’t manage,’ Colleen assured her.

‘You can’t be drinking now, when you’re feeding a baby,’ Clodagh reminded her.

‘Precisely,’ Colleen smiled. ‘So she’s working with street kids,’ she said, turning back to Cavan.

‘Is she working with the church?’ Clodagh asked.

‘Not exactly. Well, yes, she probably is,’ he corrected himself, ‘but it’s more like an undercover operation she’s involved in, with this American journalist. I don’t know too much about it yet, but I’m considering going in with them, because if you saw the kinds of things the police get away with over there, take it from me, you’d get involved too.’

Clodagh was frowning. ‘That sounds dangerous to me,’ she decided. ‘What do you think, Michael? Does it sound dangerous to you?’

Michael nodded. ‘I imagine it could be,’ he said in a voice that gave no indication of what he might be either thinking or feeling.

‘Mummy, can I watch Beauty and the Beast after dinner?’ Tierney asked, turning to Colleen.

‘It’s going to be time for bed after dinner,’ Colleen told her, tapping her plate for her to carry on eating.

Tierney’s lovely blue eyes filled up with hardship. ‘If I eat all my cabbage, can I watch it then?’ she asked.

‘How about I read you a story instead?’ Michael offered. ‘We haven’t had a story for a long time, have we?’

Tierney’s excitement was so great she could barely get her words out. ‘I’ve got three new books,’ she exploded, ‘and I can read them all. But Billy drew in one of them, didn’t you, Billy?’ she said, reaching around her mother to thump him.

‘Ah, it’s like watching meself thirty years ago,’ Clodagh remarked as Colleen sorted them out. ‘I remember when she poured gravy over your head, Michael, and you put spiders in her bed to pay her back.’

‘Ma, they don’t need any more ideas,’ Colleen reminded her, as Dan whisked Billy away before he could grab the gravy. ‘Is that the baby crying?’

‘I’ll see to him,’ Dan said, pushing her back down. ‘You finish your dinner.’

‘Have those two had a bath yet?’ Michael asked, eyeing Tierney and Billy.

‘No!’ they chorused.

Michael looked at them in amazement. ‘Did you think that was me offering to give you one?’ he cried.

‘Yes,’ they laughed.

‘No way,’ he said. ‘I’m not giving you two a bath, I always end up wetter than you. Besides, you haven’t seen what we’ve got for dessert yet.’

Their eyes grew round with anticipation and Clodagh chuckled.

‘What is it?’ Tierney asked.

Michael looked at Colleen, hoping she might give him a clue as to what he could offer, but Colleen, her eyes dancing with mischief for she could see the hole he was about to fall into, merely shrugged.

‘What is it?’ Billy asked, leaning against his mother.

‘Cavan, you tell them,’ Michael said, turning to his brother.

‘Oh no, I don’t want to spoil your surprise,’ Cavan responded. ‘You tell them.’

‘I expect Nana knows,’ Michael said.

Clodagh was shaking her head. ‘No, Nana doesn’t,’ she said, ‘and we’re dying to find out, aren’t we?’

Two little heads nodded as they turned back to Michael.

‘I guess this serves me right for trying to change the subject,’ he said, giving up.

The others laughed and Colleen said, ‘Uncle Michael’s brought us some chocolate chip ice-cream all the way from Sainsbury’s.’

The children cheered as throwing down his napkin Michael went off to get it. He was just taking it from the freezer when Clodagh came into the kitchen behind him and putting a hand on his arm looked up into his eyes.

‘It’s time you brought her back, Michael,’ she said softly. ‘All this running around, looking after strange children … I’m not saying it’s not good work, because it is, but she’s got …’

‘Mum, let it go, will you?’ he said.

‘No, I can’t,’ she said firmly, ‘and nor can you. Oh, you put on a good show, but I’m your mother, Michael, I know what’s going on in your heart and I don’t care what you say, you still love her.’

‘Even if that were true, which it isn’t,’ he responded, ‘I’m in no more of a position to tell her to come back than you are. She made her decision, I tried to change her mind, but …’

‘Maybe you didn’t try hard enough,’ Clodagh interrupted. ‘No, that’s not a criticism,’ she said, when he looked about to protest. ‘It was a very difficult time for you both and you’ve borne this well, son, better than most men would have considering the truth of the …’

‘Enough,’ Michael said. ‘We agreed a long time ago not to discuss it any more, now let’s stick to that agreement before we end up falling out,’ and taking a handful of dishes from a cupboard he carried them and the ice-cream back to the dining-room, leaving Clodagh looking after him with the pain she knew was buried deep in his heart shining brightly in her eyes.

It was way past midnight by the time Michael returned to his top-floor apartment in the eight-storey Edwardian mansion block on the south side of the river. Before he’d left Dan’s and Colleen’s he and Dan had put Cavan to bed in the guest room that had been prepared for both brothers to stay over. Cavan, well into his cups, had tried to insist on coming home with Michael, but fortunately the whisky had rendered him incapable of putting up too much of a fight and by the time Dan threw the duvet over him he was already snoring.

Michael had then had a small battle of his own, trying to convince Dan that the now empty bottle of Glenfiddich had been consumed almost entirely by Dan and Cavan, so he was OK to drive. Mercifully Clodagh and Colleen had gone to bed hours before, or there would have been no arguments at all, and in the end Dan hadn’t pressed the matter too hard, for despite the amount of Scotch he had consumed he had seemed to sense Michael’s need to get away.

Letting the front door swing closed behind him, Michael threw his keys on to the hall table and, ignoring the flashing light on the answerphone, pushed open the sitting-room door and walked through the pooling moonlight over to the bar. The huge sliding windows that ran the full width of the room and opened on to a long narrow balcony outside gave an uninterrupted view of the river below and the exclusive town houses and apartments of Cheyne Walk on the opposite bank. From where he was standing, as he poured two shots of whisky into a tumbler, he could look down river and see the ornate white lights of Albert Bridge; in the other direction, beyond Battersea Bridge, was the towering office block that contained McCann Walsh.

Carrying his tumbler through to the stainless-steel and black marble kitchen that was kept pristine and orderly by a diligent Mrs Friend who came in twice a week, he dispensed two cubes of ice from the refrigerator, then, still wearing his coat, returned to the sitting-room and went to stand at the window. Though he was gazing down at the moonlight reflected on the river, he was neither admiring nor registering it; for his thoughts were so far from where he was now it was as though they had roamed beyond the normal pastures of comprehension. For a while his eyes tracked the progress of a barge as it chugged quietly upstream, then, letting it go, he looked out at the lamplit streets and occasional traffic over on the Embankment. Minute after minute ticked by, until finally, taking a large sip of his drink, he turned back into the room and went to sit on one of the sumptuous black leather sofas.

It wasn’t often that he thought about the interior décor of his flat, the Noguchi glass coffee tables, figurative artwork, pale Berber carpet and expensive kelim rugs, but tonight he was acutely aware of it, for just about everything from the Clarice Cliff wall plates to the Berschwiz chrome-and-glass dining set had been chosen by him and Michelle together. Even the king-size Japanese-style bed, with its hand-carved deco reliefs and wide-edged frame that held the mattress like a work of art, had been designed by them. The place seemed much more austere now, for there were no photographs scattered around, nor flowers to lend colour. The femininity had vanished with Michelle, yet there was still nowhere he could go in the huge five-roomed apartment to get away from her.

He smiled wryly to himself. Apart from the early days, when she’d first left, he had felt no need to get away, but now, tonight, he was as uncomfortable with her presence as he was with her absence. It wasn’t that he harboured any lingering desire for her to come back; she had taken her decision a long time ago, and in the months – years – to follow, they had both learned to live with it. She had only ever contacted him once, about six months after she left, when she had written from somewhere in Sarajevo to let him know how and where she was. He hadn’t written back, but he had wired a great deal of money to make sure that whatever she did or wherever she went she would always be taken care of. She hadn’t thanked him for it, nor had he expected her to. Some might have called it guilt money and he wasn’t going to argue.

Sighing, he downed the rest of the whisky and held the empty glass on the arm of the sofa. Even if they were to meet, it would never work between them now; too much time had gone by and there were still too many scars that would probably never heal. He often wondered if she had met someone else, or like him, had just drifted from one relationship to the next, never experiencing the same depth of feeling they had shared, nor really wanting to. The real pain had been gone for so long that he’d forgotten what it felt like now, all he knew now was the unbridgeable void she had left and the terrible anguish of not knowing, maybe never knowing, if he had made the right choice.

Getting up to pour himself another drink, he caught the distant sound of a baby crying. He thought of his sister and of how cut off he sometimes felt from his family. He loved them all so much and knew that would never change, but since Michelle had gone he had felt like a stranger in their midst, or like someone who no longer belonged. He’d discussed it once with Clodagh and to his surprise she’d understood far better than he’d expected. She’d talk it through with him again if he were willing, but he saw no point in analysing a problem he recognized, but had no way of dealing with.

He grimaced, then almost laughed, as he thought of Sandy Paull and Clodagh’s hopes in that direction. Nothing would ever happen there, of that he was certain, and he hoped to God that Sandy didn’t think she could get to him through his family, for he’d never countenance having them used that way, nor would he ever accept the intrusion. He couldn’t say what it was he disliked about her, nor did he want to, for exploring his feelings towards Sandy Paull was a pointless exercise that generally ended up annoying him. Besides, he didn’t really dislike her, he was just uncomfortable with the way he responded to her overt sexuality. He’d known plenty of women like her before, though perhaps they’d been slightly more subtle in their approach and were a lot less vulnerable than he suspected Sandy to be, but in the end it still came down to the same thing, all they wanted was to entangle him in a relationship that he couldn’t have wanted less. But he wasn’t made of steel, and occasionally he had ended up in bed with one of these women. It was always a mistake and he sensed that with Sandy it wouldn’t only be a mistake, it would very probably be a disaster. So maybe he’d better have a quiet word with Clodagh and get her to back off a little, or, God forbid, the next thing he knew he’d turn up at Colleen’s and Dan’s to find Sandy cosily ensconced at the table.

Carrying his drink back to the window and watching the dancing ripples of moonlight on the river, he began toying with the idea of introducing Sandy to Cavan. Then suddenly realizing what he was doing, he cut the thought dead. A good many women on a good many occasions had accused him of being a bastard and maybe they were right, but he was never intentionally so and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now with Sandy Paull by baiting her as a potential screw for his brother while Cavan was in town. In fact, he felt bad for even thinking it, when it would be like treating Sandy as though she were some kind of whore and no matter how strong his antipathy towards her might be, nor how tartily she sometimes dressed or behaved, that was an insult she certainly didn’t deserve. And there was Clodagh again, back in his mind and making him smile, for whatever else she had done in her chequered career, she had managed to instil a reasonable, if not entirely dependable, sense of honour and morality in her first-born son.

He wondered what Clodagh would say were he to tell her about Ted Forgon’s offer. He’d been tempted several times to discuss it with her, but knowing his mother he guessed that though she would try hard to hide it, she would be as horrified by the idea of him going so far away as he was sometimes anxious to go. Not that she would ever try to stand in his way, for that simply wasn’t Clodagh’s style, nor would he allow it, but he had no desire to upset her when, despite the appeal of a new life in a new place, he had no intention of making that place Hollywood or of selling his life to Ted Forgon.

He glanced at his watch to check the date. According to the fax he’d received, Ellen Shelby had arrived in London almost a week ago. He was surprised she hadn’t contacted him yet, though maybe she had and Jodi hadn’t bothered to tell him. If that were the case then the woman, if she had any intelligence, should have worked out by now that she was on as wasted a mission as her colleagues before her. Perhaps even more so, for he had agreed to see the others; this one, though, he had decided not to.

A few short miles across London, Ellen was sitting at her hotel room window, gazing down at the shadowy emptiness of Hyde Park. She’d just returned from an enjoyable dinner with one of Rosa’s friends, but now, sitting here alone, she was feeling sad and worried, and extremely frustrated with Michael McCann. Were it not for him and the way he and his secretary were blocking her, there was every chance she’d be falling freely and happily in love with London, but his refusal to see her, or even speak to her on the phone, was starting to feel like a personal rejection and after what she had just been through with Clay, that was something she really didn’t need.

The problem was, short of throwing herself in front of his car or riding up to his office in a window cleaner’s cradle, she just couldn’t think how to get to him. Both Rosa’s and Forgon’s contacts had tried to set things up, but so far nothing had worked. And she felt god-dammed furious with McCann, for he could at least pay her the courtesy of hearing her out, even if he did already know what she was going to say. She had never come across anyone so blatantly unresponsive and were it not for the fact that she had so much hanging on this personally, she would quite happily have left town never having met him. Well maybe not happily, for the craziest part of it was that having read so much about him, she actually wanted to meet him. But she was going to have to get her act together soon, or Forgon would start getting impatient and though in her heart of hearts she didn’t believe he’d go to print with those photographs, she definitely didn’t want to try calling his bluff, any more than she wanted to return to LA with the embarrassment of never having made contact with Michael McCann.