Liz strapped Toby into his buggy and took a short walk down the hill from her house, towards the centre of the village. Although the weather was chilly, the sky was a glorious clear blue, and as she crossed the low stone bridge over the river, she thought the large Norman castle after which the village was named had never looked so impressive. The remarkably preserved castle, which, apart from the picture-perfect village itself, served as the main tourist attraction for Castlegate, was positioned on a slightly elevated site at the edge of the town centre. The river wound its way around the castle, serving as a typical Norman moat, so from her side of town, Liz needed to cross the stone bridge above the river in order to get to the centre and to the shops where she was headed this morning.
As she and Toby walked over the bridge, most of the villagers she passed gave her friendly but distant smiles. As well as commuting “Dubs”, the inhabitants of Castlegate, a designated heritage village, were of course used to a continual influx of tourists, and so, even with the smiles, she knew she had a long way to go before she was accepted as one of “their own”. . . if she ever was.
“Liz, hello!”
She looked up to see Colm, one of Eric and Tara’s childhood friends, waving at her from across the road. He was standing outside The Coffee Bean, the popular village café he ran, which was nicely situated directly across from the castle, with magnificent views over the river.
Needless to say, he was running a thriving business, what with the huge amount of footfall the café garnered from the visiting tour buses and the fact that, since its inception by Colm’s parents thirty-odd years before, the place had become a Castlegate social institution. He was also one of the few people in the village that Liz had got to know properly since the move from Dublin.
“Hey, Colm!” Liz waved back, before nipping quickly across the road to talk to him.
“Hello there, little lad,” said Colm, bending down to talk to Toby and briefly pausing in his task of cleaning the premises’ glass frontage. “God, he’s gorgeous, Liz! Who would have thought an ugly bastard like Eric would produce a cutie like that?”
“Wash out your mouth, or I’ll set my dogs on you!” Liz laughed, and Colm feigned terror.
“Hmm, you didn’t threaten to set your husband on me all the same – he must still be as much of a wimp as ever,” he said with a grin. “How is Eric anyway? I haven’t seen you two around town in a while.”
Liz grimaced. “We haven’t been around town in a while, unfortunately. And Eric’s fine, working like a maniac lately – he’s hardly ever at home.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m beginning to think he has a mistress on the go!”
“Well, if he does, he’s an idiot,” Colm replied, a little more earnestly than the remark necessitated. She was only joking after all.
“So are you coming inside for a cuppa?” he asked then. “I’m trying out a new recipe involving sinful amounts of cream and mascarpone – and I’d love a guinea pig.”
Judging by his slim and perfectly toned physique, he obviously didn’t try out too many of his creations on himself, or if he did, he was conscientious enough to work the excess off.
Colm managed the café and, knowing what she did about him, Liz had decided that rural attitudes had surely come on in leaps and bounds when the residents of such a close-knit community didn’t bat an eyelid at being served tea and coffee by the local homosexual.
“Don’t tempt me – not this early in the morning,” Liz replied, groaning. “But I might call back later for a coffee. I’ve got a bit of shopping to do first, and then I’m popping up to Eric’s mum for an hour or two. I think she may have forgotten what Toby looks like at this stage!”
Maeve McGrath didn’t particularly like animals, so needless to say she wasn’t a regular visitor at the cottage. And in truth, she wasn’t exactly a huge fan of kids either, a subscriber to the “children should be seen and not heard” camp. So, Liz and Eric usually went to visit her. Liz privately suspected that Eric’s mother, with her reserved and standoffish personality, wasn’t particularly liked in the village. Colm’s response confirmed this.
“How is the old bag?” he said, rolling his eyes. “I haven’t seen her in donkey’s years myself – but of course, she wouldn’t dream of coming into a place like this. Heavens no!” he mimicked exaggeratedly. “After all, who knows where the chef’s hands have been!”
Liz smiled. Maeve McGrath was one, and possibly the only, resident of Castlegate who had a problem with the proprietor of The Coffee Bean and, according to Eric, once his mother had eventually discovered Colm’s sexual preference, she had never forgiven herself for allowing the two boys to go off camping together when they were growing up. He might have turned her darling, God forbid!
Well, Liz thought now, it was certainly the woman’s loss. Colm was one of the nicest and most genuine guys you could meet, and despite being a friend of Eric’s rather than one of hers, he was someone in whom Liz instinctively knew she could confide, should the need arise.
According to Eric, Colm had recently begun a serious relationship with a man who was also living locally and, while Liz hadn’t yet met the boyfriend, she was pleased for Colm. Living such a lifestyle in a small, close-knit community like this couldn’t be easy, but at the same time it was impossible not to love Colm. Outgoing and gregarious, his gossipy mannerisms always made her laugh yet he wasn’t over-the-top camp. Liz had really taken to him and decided when she met him first that it was lucky in a way that he was the other way inclined, otherwise she might be tempted to make a play for him herself!
“Tara was telling me she and Glenn met you in the pub last time the two of them were home,” Liz said, her thoughts then segueing to her friend, who also knew Colm well.
“Yes, Tara looked stunning as usual,” he said. “That girl has such great taste! You know, I still can’t figure out how a girl from this dive ended up being so fabulous! She really knows how to make the most of herself, doesn’t she?”
“I know what you mean,” Liz grimaced, suddenly aware of her own dowdy jeans and boring T-shirt.
“Although, I have to hand it to you, Liz, you’ve smartened Eric up quite a bit! Honestly, when we were teenagers, we all used to be bewildered as to where that boy got his clothes – especially those reindeer jumpers he loved so much.”
Liz giggled. “Reindeer jumpers?”
“You mean you’ve never seen the pictures?” Colm’s eyes widened dramatically. “God, I must hunt them out and show them to you sometime. Eric used to wear this horrific knitted brown jumper with patterned reindeer prancing gaily all over the front of it. Can you imagine? Talk about ironic! Honestly, Liz, I’ll have a look for the photos. We’d all get a good laugh out of it – especially when it’s at Eric’s expense.” He winked conspiratorially. “Anyway, I’d better get back inside and give the others a hand – I see another horde gathering across the road like lost, and hopefully hungry, sheep.”
Liz followed Colm’s line of vision and, sure enough, there outside the castle entrance stood a crowd of tourists, the majority by now no doubt having had it up to the gills with hearing about Norman invaders and such like and likely gagging for a coffee break and a slice of creamy cheesecake. Lucky things.
And as well as being endowed with such an amiable personality, Colm had also been blessed with stunning culinary ability. Together with managing the business, he was The Coffee Bean’s resident cook, and in conjunction with his delicious savoury breads, tomato chutneys and homemade pesto, the man made the best chocolate and vanilla cheesecake Liz had ever tasted. Evidently, she wasn’t the only one who appreciated Colm’s talents.
Deciding she’d better not keep him any longer, Liz bade Colm a quick goodbye, having promised to return soon for a cuppa and another chat, and continued on pushing the buggy further along the street to the shops.
Within the next half hour, she’d done most of her shopping and was inelegantly trying to stow her vegetables at the back of Toby’s buggy when she looked up and came face to face with another Castlegate resident – one she really wished she hadn’t.
“Emma!” Liz blurted in surprise, her face suffused with colour – not just from surprise, but also from her exertions in trying to put away the heavy groceries.
“Oh, hello,” said Emma.
Tara’s sister was typically off-hand and, maddeningly, looked stunning as usual, dressed in a pretty flower-patterned skirt and stylish white top. Blast it, why hadn’t she made more of an effort! Baggy jeans and a sweatshirt that had seen better days were barely suitable for slobbing around at home, let alone going shopping! But Toby had been narky that morning and she’d had a couple of dogs changing over before she left, so really she had been lucky to get out of the house at all. So, trust Eric’s ex to look like something from the Cosmo fashion pages, all pretty and feminine and glowing with health, while she looked like something from Down-and-Out Weekly.
Then Liz recalled why it was that Emma looked so glowing.
“Tara tells me you’re moving home again,” she said, trying to inject some warmth into her tone. Granted, over the years, neither woman had made any bones of their dislike for the other, but Liz saw little reason not to be polite, if not exactly friendly, towards Emma. It was unlikely that the two would ever be bosom buddies but . . .
“Did she?” For a brief moment, Emma looked surprised and, Liz thought, slightly wrong-footed. “I didn’t realise my personal life was up for public examination.”
Liz gritted her teeth. Right. If the girl wanted to play silly buggers, then to hell with being polite. “Emma, to be honest, I’m not too concerned about your personal life, OK? I was just making small-talk as people tend to do when they bump into one another. But seeing as you’re not capable of basic manners, let alone anything else, then good luck to you!” She went to push the buggy away.
“Will Eric be at home this weekend?” Emma enquired pointedly. “I haven’t seen him around here in a few weeks. Anyone would think he was staying away on purpose.”
Don’t let her get to you – it’s exactly what she wants, Liz warned herself silently, while inwardly wishing she could smack the cow.
“Of course, where else would he be?” she replied sweetly.
“Oh, I don’t know. From what I can make out, he seems to be spending a lot of his time in Dublin. I bumped into him once or twice up there and we had a few drinks. It was good fun actually.”
Despite herself, Liz’s heart began to pound loudly in her chest. “Did you really?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Yes, it was just like old times actually,” Emma replied, her voice full of meaning, before walking away in the other direction, her shapely backside moving haughtily from side to side.
Liz’s hands gripped the handle of the buggy so tightly her knuckles almost broke through skin. What the hell was all that about? Granted, Eric had been spending a lot of time in Dublin lately but he was working, wasn’t he? She took a deep breath and shook her head, trying to get a grip on herself, trying to contain the jealousy and suspicion that had out of nowhere aroused itself within her.
What on earth was wrong with her? Why did the mere sight of Emma Harrington turn her into some raging, jealous wreck almost every time they met? It had been years since Emma and Eric had been together – way before him and her, she reassured herself as her heartbeat began to slow a little and her stomach stopped spinning. And Eric was married to her after all, and as far as she knew had barely even spoken to Emma since God knows when.
As far as she knew . . .
Despite herself, Emma’s words planted themselves in Liz’s brain. “I bumped into him a few times – we had a few drinks.” Had Eric and Emma met up when he stayed over in Dublin? And if they had, wasn’t it strange that her husband hadn’t mentioned it?
Emma walked further along the road, a mischievous grin plastered across her face. OK, so she shouldn’t have said anything to Eric’s wife, but she couldn’t help it!
For some reason that goody-two-shoes friend of Tara’s had always got up her nose, and she couldn’t resist telling her that she and Eric had met up in town. That had certainly wiped the smug smile off her silly little face! The slip of the tongue had been worth it, just to see Liz’s stupefied reaction.
Emma smiled and headed for home. Well, she’d lit the fuse: now all she had to do was sit back and watch the fireworks.
Eric returned home from work that evening bustling with energy and all throughout dinner raved enthusiastically about the extra hours he’d secured at work.
“Which means an extra few quid to spend on the house, love,” he told his wife, gleefully rubbing his hands together and apparently not noticing Liz’s sombre mood.
“Or maybe you might just blow it on your nights out on the town with the boys,” Liz replied, the words escaping before she could stop them.
Instantly, the mood changed. “What?” he asked, frowning. “What are you talking about?”
Liz lifted her chin and continued feeding Toby at his high-chair. “From what I hear, you’ve been having the life of Riley up there, while I’m stuck at home with Toby and the dogs.”
Eric set down his fork. “Liz, I don’t know what the hell you’re going on about but –”
“I’m only telling you what I heard. I bumped into Emma Harrington today who wasted no time in telling me what a wonderful social life you seem to lead in Dublin.”
Immediately Eric coloured. “Emma? What would she know about it?”
Why did he look so guilty? Liz thought worriedly. He knew nothing about her true feelings towards Emma and that she’d always felt jealous of her. A wildly jealous woman wasn’t attractive, Liz knew that, and so she’d always taken great pains to ensure her insecurities remained hidden.
“Liz, what’s going on?”
Unable to stop herself, Liz sniffed defiantly. She knew she was behaving childishly and setting up a conversation that could only end in trouble. Still she couldn’t help it. The irrational sense of being hard done by had clouded her judgement.
“You tell me,” she snapped. “All I know is that some stranger seems to know much more about your exploits in Dublin than I do.”
He frowned. “I still don’t understand what you’re getting at. OK, so I did bump into Emma up in Dublin. But so what?”
Liz didn’t reply; she just sat there looking wounded yet defiant, and with that Eric’s temper began to fray.
“Look, Liz, I’m not in the mood for this sulking and childish behaviour,” he said shortly, his tone raising a fraction. “If you’ve got something to say, then just come right out and say it! What’s on your mind?”
Just then, Toby let out an anguished cry, evidently unused to his mum and dad speaking to one another like this.
Liz wasn’t used to it either and, despite her sense of grievance, she hated that she was sounding like a nagging wife. But Emma’s comments earlier had really unnerved her, and she was determined to demand some kind of explanation.
But it seemed Eric was in no mood to oblige. “Look, it’s obvious you’re in some kind of a mood, but whatever is wrong with you, don’t go taking it out on me.” With that, he got up from the table and walked out of the kitchen, Toby still wailing in his wake.
Her mind racing, Liz got up to tend to her son and tried desperately to get a grip on her whirling thoughts and emotions. Why had Eric got so angry when she was the one who should be feeling hard done by? When she was the one who sat here alone on weeknights while he lived it up in the capital?
It had been mostly his idea to move to Castlegate in the first place after all. “It would be better for the baby and all the space around the cottage would be perfect for setting up your kennels,” he’d told her enthusiastically.
And yes, village life had indeed been better for Toby, and setting up the kennels had been a dream come true for Liz, but if living in Castlegate was so wonderful, why did it seem that Eric was lately coming up with more and more reasons to stay away from the village, to stay away from her and Toby?
Her son’s cries eventually abating, Liz slumped back down at the kitchen table and put her head in her hands. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel so insecure all of a sudden? Granted this underlying emotion had always been a problem where she was concerned, and she wasn’t sure why. She’d lost a few boyfriends over the years as a result, but since then had pretty much managed to keep it in check. And for the most part, she’d never really felt anything other than completely secure and happy when it came to Eric. For the most part.
Except when it came to Emma Harrington.
The idea of Eric and Emma together wouldn’t go away – however hard she tried.
It didn’t help that she had never been able to communicate her fears to anyone. Tara was her best friend but, of course, she couldn’t exactly voice her feelings about Emma to Tara, could she? Irrespective of their relationship, and in all fairness their relationship was pretty good, no girl in their right mind would bitch to her best friend about her sister, would they?
So, Liz stayed silent and never outwardly expressed her doubts and niggling feelings of jealousy. She’d never even properly investigated the reasons for Emma and Eric’s break-up. Instead she’d resolved to try and forget about the girl and get on with her own life.
But now something had been sparked off in her that for years she had tried to bury and which, since the news of Emma’s surprise pregnancy, had grown and flourished.
She had to get a hold of herself.
Liz took a deep breath and made an effort to think rationally.
There was nothing between Emma and Eric – nothing. So what if Emma had met him on a night out in Dublin? It wasn’t that big a city after all, and there was always a chance they could bump into one another, wasn’t there? And just because they’d bumped into one another didn’t mean they’d gone off and had a raging affair, did it? Liz felt her heart would shatter at the thought of Eric with somebody else. God, she’d drive herself crazy if she kept thinking like this! How had a simple smart comment from a girl who was known for her deviousness, and whom she didn’t like, almost sent her into convulsions of distrust and suspicion?
And why on earth had the news of Emma’s mystery pregnancy had such an effect on her? Emma could have a serious boyfriend in Dublin for all she knew. But deep down, Liz knew this wasn’t the case. Tara had been puzzled by her sister’s pregnancy primarily because she hadn’t been seeing anyone. And they had both considered the possibility that it might have been the result of a clandestine affair, perhaps with a married man.
But there was no reason, no reason at all, for her to think that this affair could have been with her own husband, was there?
Getting up from the table, Liz reached for a tissue and quickly wiped her eyes and nose. She had to snap out of this. She was being hysterical, over-emotional – completely unreasonable. Emma would be thrilled to see the damage she’d done, and all with a simple little throwaway remark. But it wasn’t a throwaway remark either, was it? No, Emma had known full well what she was doing, had known well that she was planting a seed of suspicion in Liz’s brain. And of course, any normal, well-adjusted, secure woman wouldn’t give it a second thought, would she? But when the woman in question was someone as basically insecure as she was, then . . .
“Honey, what’s the matter?” Eric reappeared in the doorway, concern written all over his face. “Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know,” Liz answered truthfully, her thoughts scattered all over the place as she tried to come to terms with her own feelings. “I don’t know why I went off on you like that and I’m sorry. I just . . . I suppose I just find it hard sometimes when you’re away from us, and I don’t like to think of you off enjoying yourself while you’re supposed to be working.”
“But I am working, love – and working very hard.” Eric moved across the room and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I thought we’d agreed that I’d put in the extra hours for a little while, so we can afford to get this extension built.”
She sniffed. “I know – and I’m sorry, but for some reason I keep having images of you out and about and living it up in the pubs and . . .” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m just being silly.”
“Yes, you are,” Eric said firmly. “So, are we friends again?”
“Of course we are,” she replied, resting her head against his chest and hugging him tightly.
Eric was her husband, the love of her life, the father of her son and the man she really should know better than to doubt. This mistrust, suspicion – there was no basis to any of it – it was all in her own stupid head!
Blast Emma Harrington! As far as Liz was concerned, if she never saw the girl again for as long as she lived, she’d be happy.
But that wasn’t very likely, was it? she thought worriedly. Not when Emma was back living in Castlegate and, according to Tara, was very likely back for good.