Putting Out the Stars (44 page)
And Frank, checking the clock on the kitchen wall, saw that he was due at Laura and Don’s – Donal’s – in less than an hour. And he hurried upstairs to
change out of his gardening clothes and clean himself up, hoping to God that he’d remember to take the bottle of wine out of the fridge before he left.
Dying, as usual, to see the person who’d brought him back to life.
‘Remind me again why we’re putting ourselves through this.’ Donal’s voice floated out from the open bathroom door.
Laura smiled into the mirror. ‘You know very well it’s our turn – Mother has had us twice in the past month. Although I must admit I’m having second thoughts myself
– I look like a whale. Come out and do up the zip for me, and I’ll see if I can still breathe.’
He appeared in the mirror behind her. ‘A damn sexy whale, if I may say so. Here –’ He eased the zip of her dress up slowly, while Laura attempted to pull in her stomach.
‘Thanks – if I just pretend to eat I’ll be fine.’ She turned sideways, pressing her hand to her abdomen as she examined herself in the mirror. ‘Three months –
and still a long way to go.’
Donal grinned. ‘I’m blue in the face from telling you you’re fine – what is it with women that they have to look like sticks? We men want something to grab on to, you
know.’
Laura thumped his arm. ‘Shut up – I want to be a stick, OK? Doesn’t matter what
you
want. Don’t let me have dessert.’
He nodded, still smiling. ‘Fine. Now how long have we got before the hordes descend?’
‘Three people are hardly hordes. And about ten minutes; have you checked the dinner – and will you make sure the fire is OK?’
Before Donal could answer, a wail erupted from the corner. They met each other’s eyes before turning simultaneously towards the cot.
‘I’ll get her.’
‘No, you go down – it’s my turn.’
And Laura, bending over her daughter’s cross, red face, smiled a smile of such pure happiness that Catherine was charmed into silence. She snuffled up at Laura and grabbed one lilac-socked
foot, pulling off the sock and bringing it towards her mouth.
‘Oh no you don’t, you little rogue.’ Laura lifted her into her arms and rescued the sock, turned to find Donal still standing by the door, arms folded, watching them.
She stood and looked back at him. ‘Want a go?’
He nodded, walked over and took his daughter from Laura. His daughter, his miracle child, conceived against all the odds. Sitting quietly in Laura’s womb as Laura heard how her husband had
deceived her. Waiting to be discovered when Laura, full of hurt and fear and pain, had gone for help to Dr Goode – not noticing, in her anguish, that her period was now well over two weeks
late.
And Catherine
was
a miracle – she’d saved them from falling apart. How could they not survive, now that they had started a baby between them? She was the glue that had kept
them all together. And when she was born, the incredible joy that Frank especially had got from Catherine, named in memory of his beloved daughter . . . seeing that, how could Laura not forgive the
past, and move on?
And incredibly, Catherine had brought Laura and her mother closer together. It wasn’t the cosy, easy relationship that Breffni had with her mother – it would never be that –
but it was better between them, definitely. Cecily was warmer, doting on Catherine, bringing expensive toys and clothes whenever she called around, telling Laura about a new baby alarm she’d
seen advertised. She’d even offered to babysit, the last time they’d been to her house for dinner, but so far they hadn’t taken her up on it – they couldn’t bear to
leave Catherine yet.
‘Hon.’ Donal looked up from the baby.
‘Yeah?’
‘What about giving Breffni a ring? Just to catch up, bury the hatchet?’
She didn’t answer immediately, looked back into the mirror, concentrated on getting the dress to sit right. Smoothed down the front of it with her palms.
‘I don’t know.’ How could she contact her again, how could they ever be friends again, with all that had happened?
Something that Ruth had said once swam suddenly into Laura’s head – something about them being like spaghetti people, all tangled up together . . . and they
had
been,
twining in and out of each other’s lives. She and Ruth, Donal and Cian, Andrew and Breffni . . . and she hated that Breffni had wrenched it all apart, destroyed Ruth’s marriage for the
sake of a fling. It had to have been a fling, hadn’t it, when they hadn’t gone off together like Andrew had been planning? Laura had never spoken about it to him after that one time,
had been glad when he’d never brought it up again, just acted his usual confident self.
Poor Ruth.
But still . . . Laura missed her friend badly sometimes, missed her so much it nearly hurt. When she’d found out she was pregnant, her first thought had been
must phone Bref
,
before she remembered. And now Bref didn’t even know that she’d had Catherine, that she hadn’t had to have the treatment after all. And
she
knew nothing about Bref
– had she left Cian? Was that relationship destroyed too? And if it was, who would Bref have had to turn to, without Laura?
Maybe she’d call her. Maybe in a while she’d call her.
She turned from the mirror. ‘Right, let’s get this show on the road – they’ll be here any minute. Gimme –’ She stretched out her arms ‘– go and do
your thing downstairs. I’ll give this one a clean nappy so she won’t disgrace us.’
As Donal handed over Catherine, Laura met his eyes. ‘You’re a good man.’
And with a pang, she saw the lightning flash of pain on his face before he turned to go downstairs.
Thanks to all at Tivoli, and to Faith.
Thanks to Annaghmakerrig, for taking me in again.
Thanks to Liz and Desirée for the biology lessons.
Thanks to family and pals, for encouragement and kind words.
Thanks to all who bought
The Daisy Picker.
Here we go again.
Thanks to Limerick for the inspiration.
Thanks, and apologies, to anyone I’ve forgotten.
Roisin Meaney, October 2004
Gill & Macmillan
Hume Avenue
Park West
Dublin 12
Ireland
with associated companies throughout the world
© Roisin Meaney 2005, 2013
First published by Gill & Macmillan 2005 under the Tivoli imprint
This ebook edition published by Gill & Macmillan 2013
978 07171 3676 0 (print)
978 07171 5908 6 (epub)
978 07171 5907 9 (mobi)
Cover design by www.slickfish.ie
Cover photograph by Sin É Design
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without permission of the publishers.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
The website addresses referred to in this book were correct at the time of first publication.
In 1977 Roisin Meaney finished a sentence and won a car. The sentence was ‘I would like to win a Ford Fiesta because my father won’t let me drive his.’ In the
24 years that followed she wrote a lot more sentences and won a lot more prizes. In 2001 she finally decided to keep writing sentences until she filled a book. Since then she’s written eight
adult novels and two children’s books. Her work has been translated into German, Spanish, Swedish, Norwegian, Danish, Dutch and Italian. Two of her books have also been published in the
US
, Semi-Sweet
(previously
Love in the Making
) and
Life Drawing for Beginners
(previously
The Things We Do for Love
). Five of Roisin’s novels have made it
into the Irish bestseller list, with
The Last Week of May
(2007) and
The People Next Door
(2008) securing the number one and two slots respectively. Her ninth novel,
Something
in Common
, will be published in 2013. Roisin Meaney was born in Kerry and has also lived in Dublin, Tipperary, London, Zimbabwe and San Francisco. Her present home, and her main place of
residence since the age of eight, is Limerick.
Putting Out the Stars
is her second book.
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