‘There has to be some sort of a mistake,’ her father said when she rang and told him.
‘I never mentioned Paul Everett to you?’ she asked for the umpteenth time since she had first heard the name.
‘No,’ he said but she could detect unease in his voice and she knew this had unsettled him.
She told her mother next.
‘That’s all very strange, isn’t it,’ Gloria said in an odd, suspicious tone. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m writing back to them.’
‘Do you think that’s wise?’
‘I don’t know whether it is or not but it’s what I have to do.’
Elizabeth rang and asked her to dinner at the flat the next night. Vincent had just come home again. He would be in Ireland until after Christmas and in the New Year they were moving to a house they had rented in London.
‘He’s dying to meet you,’ Elizabeth said. ‘And bring your young man, of course, what’s-his-name.’
‘Dan,’ Meg said.
‘Yes. Bring Dan.’
‘Actually, I might not. We had a bit of a disagreement.’
‘Oh yes?’
Meg told her about the letter and said they had fallen out over it. She did not mention the conversation which had started the ball rolling. ‘He’s right,’ she said. ‘I do need a bit of time to myself to think about this.’
‘Careful you don’t let him drift away,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Unless you want him to.’
No, she thought when she had hung up. She did not really want that at all.
It was cold the following evening with heavy skies, the sort that always threatened snow in this corner of the world but never seemed to deliver.
She got to Elizabeth’s flat at seven thirty. She rang the bell and Vincent O’Malley came to the door. He was in a short-sleeved shirt, a man used to a hotter climate. He had lost weight since the wedding pictures and he had less hair.
‘Meg,’ he smiled and held out his hand. She took it, then he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. ‘At last.’ He stood back from the door. ‘Come in, come in. Let me take your coat.’
The dining table was set with gleaming cutlery and sparkling wine glasses. The flat was country-cottage quaint, a little fussy for Meg’s taste. There were dried flowers in stone jars and a lot of tie-backs and stencilling. Chairs and settees sat demurely under long skirts.
Something rich was being cooked. Elizabeth came out of the kitchen, her face glistening. She wore a tight black skirt and a low-cut red top with sequins. She hugged Meg and as they air-kissed, Meg caught a hint of gin and what was possibly Chanel. Both duty-free, at a guess.
The three of them stood and looked at each other and Meg knew instantly that something was not quite right.
‘Well, we can’t stand here all night. Get us a drink,’ Elizabeth said to her husband. ‘My glass is in the kitchen. You can top me up.’ She went to get it.
‘Of course,’ O’Malley said. The drinks were on a table over by the window. Outside, cars sped silently along the Stranmillis embankment, slowing occasionally to cross the King’s Bridge, braking in a blur of red light. The reflection of a row of street lamps was like a chain of gold coins floating on the surface of the river.
‘What can I get you?’
‘Just something soft,’ she said. ‘Mineral water, if you have it.’ Since the Fly she had resumed her teetotal ways.
‘She’s become awfully boring and doesn’t drink,’ Elizabeth said, coming back with her empty glass. A thick slice of lemon lay at the bottom of it. ‘Same again, please.’ She thrust the glass at her husband.
O’Malley lifted a bottle of Gordon’s and said nothing but in his silence Meg heard a lot.
‘Where’s Catriona?’ Meg said.
‘Down for the night, I hope,’ O’Malley told her. ‘I’ve just read her a story.’
‘Can I go and kiss her goodnight?’
‘Of course,’ he said and smiled.
The little girl had not graduated to a bed yet. She was in a high-sided cot with a Teletubbies frieze. Meg peered over the edge. She was on her side, eyes closed, the corner of a blanket soggy in her mouth.
Meg tip-toed out of the room again. When she got back to the living room she knew there had been words of some kind. It was in the air and on their faces.
‘Too late,’ she said, whispering. ‘She’s asleep. I didn’t want to risk waking her.’
‘I’ve got things to do in the kitchen,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Why don’t you two get to know each other a bit? I won’t be long.’
Meg and O’Malley looked at each other blankly when she had gone. ‘Where should we start?’ Meg said.
They sat with their drinks. O’Malley’s was a glass of white wine.
‘The . . . the ordeal you’ve been through,’ he said. She saw that he would have been wondering how to broach the subject. ‘I . . . I’m at a loss for words. It’s just . . . just remarkable.’
‘It’s been nice to have Elizabeth around,’ she said. ‘I shall miss her. And I’m glad you two . . . well, that things are better.’
His face clouded. ‘I don’t know that they are. The thing is – our move to London. It’s only going to be for six months. I’m going to have to go back to Malaysia for a while after that. I plucked up the courage to break the news to her just before you came.’ He shook his head. ‘Not exactly brilliant timing. I’m sorry you’ve landed in the middle of it.’
‘Ouch,’ Meg said. ‘You don’t need that, either of you. These big companies, they just push people around. I don’t know how you stick it.’
‘I might not, for much longer. I can’t get Elizabeth to understand. You see, when I go back to Malaysia it’s to finish a big financial project. Once that’s complete, it’ll be something quite substantial for me. A real feather in the cap. Other companies will want to employ me and I’ll be able to choose who I go to. I just can’t convince her that it’s for the best, that in the end it will help our future. Meg, do you think you could talk to her?’
The request, blurted out, took her by surprise. Elizabeth came back with the starter, salmon pate and asparagus tips, before she had a chance to answer. Not that she was sure what she was going to say.
‘Right, table please.’
They ate quietly, apart from sounds of appreciation from Meg and O’Malley and some small talk about Christmas. He explained that they would be going to Dublin for a few days to stay with his relatives. His house there was for sale.
As Elizabeth finished off a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, he reached for the empty plates.
‘Leave those,’ she told him.
‘I’ll just take them to the kitchen.’
‘No, you sit there. I can manage by myself.’ She gave a bitter little laugh. ‘I’m kind of used to it by now, don’t you think?’ She took the plates from his hands and left the room with them.
‘You’re sure you won’t have a glass of wine?’ O’Malley said to Meg.
‘Positive. Look, Vincent, this really isn’t something I can get involved in. You’ve got to sort it out yourselves.’
‘She listens to you.’
‘Not always. If she mentions it, I’ll discuss it with her. But I won’t raise the subject.’
Elizabeth brought in the main course, a beef casserole that had been kept too hot and had congealed. Meg found it heavy going but did her best. The hostess had a couple of glasses of Cabernet to wash it down.
‘So this letter, then,’ Elizabeth said, pouring herself some more. ‘Tell us all about it.’
It was almost a relief to do so. Tension was hanging over the table like a fog.
When she had finished the story, Meg found O’Malley studying her.
Elizabeth saw him. She laughed. ‘He doesn’t know what to make of you, do you, Vincent?’
His face reddened. ‘Sorry, I’m being rude. I just find this fascinating, that’s all.’
Elizabeth looked at Meg. ‘Are you going to tell the police?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that but I’m not sure. I don’t know that it takes the murder case any further. What would I say to them that didn’t make me look stupid? At any rate, I’m certainly not going to say anything until I know more.’
‘So you’ve written back,’ O’Malley said. ‘What did you say?’
‘I thanked them for writing to me. I told them the letter had been something of a shock and I asked them if they’d let me see the letter he wrote.’
‘Do you think they will?’
‘I don’t know. It’s worth a try. Until I see it I won’t actually be able to believe it.’
‘I haven’t done a pudding,’ Elizabeth announced. ‘There’s cheese if you want some.’
‘Not for me,’ Meg said.
‘Or me,’ O’Malley echoed. ‘But why don’t I make some coffee.’
When he had left the room, Meg groaned. ‘God, Elizabeth, it’s so confusing. I’m beginning to doubt myself. You still believe me, don’t you?’
‘About what?’
‘That I didn’t know Paul Everett.’
Elizabeth shrugged. ‘Why not? I believe everything you tell me.’
Meg tensed. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning six months. Six fucking months and then he’s off to Malaysia again. How do I make a marriage out of that?’ Meg waited for the rest of it.
‘You were the one who persuaded me to give it another go. And now I’m being left high and dry again. I should have just ended it when I had the chance. Not listened to you.’
‘I didn’t persuade you to do anything,’ Meg said. ‘I told you that you should sort your problems out face to face, not run away from them. I still think that was the right advice. The final decision – to go back to Vincent – that was yours. And if you want to know, I think it was the right one, too. He’s a good man. I’ve only met him tonight for the first time but I think I can see what sort of person he is. He doesn’t like this situation any more than you do.’
‘How do you know?’
‘We kind of discussed it.’
‘Oh you did, did you? When my back was turned?’
‘He told me how he felt and I believe him. Why don’t you give him a chance?’
‘Whose side are you on, anyway?’
‘I’m not on anybody’s side. Or rather, I’m on both your sides. I just don’t want you to do something stupid. And filling yourself full of drink doesn’t help either.’
O’Malley came back with a tray of coffee. ‘Here we are,’ he said cheerily.
Elizabeth ignored him. She glared at Meg. ‘Well, fuck you. Don’t talk to me like that. Don’t give me a fucking lecture.’
‘I’m not. I’m just trying to be honest with you.’
‘What on earth’s going on?’ O’Malley said, frozen with the tray in his hands.
Meg stood up, trying to stay cool. ‘Look, I’m sorry, this is getting a bit out of hand. I think – I think maybe I’d better go before we say something we’ll regret.’
‘Regret,’ Elizabeth scoffed. ‘What are you worrying about? Sure, if you say something you regret you can develop amnesia and just forget about it. That’s always a good way out for you, isn’t it?’
‘Christ, Elizabeth,’ O’Malley said, ‘what do you think you’re doing?’
‘Fuck off. You keep out of this,’ Elizabeth said and walked across to where the gin bottle stood. O’Malley put the tray down and followed her. They began arguing.
Meg walked from the room and found her coat, then O’Malley appeared in the hall. ‘Meg, I’m sorry. Don’t go like this. She didn’t mean it. She’s upset and unsettled about things. She’s had a bit too much to drink.’
‘Let her go,’ Elizabeth’s voice called. ‘Better still – why don’t you go with her. I don’t need either of you.’
O’Malley looked helpless. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.
‘So am I,’ Meg said.
And as she closed the door of the flat behind her, she thought that she was not angry at the things Elizabeth had said, just tired of it all.