It's All About Him (4 page)

The phone rang, interrupting her reverie and, wiping her hands on a dishcloth, she hurried to answer it. 'Hello, Happy Days Crèche, can I help you?'

'Oh, hi, may I speak to Dee Hewson, please?'

'Speaking.'

'Dee, hi, my name is Don Reilly, I work for the
Daily Journal
. I wonder if I could talk to you about your comments on Forever FM?'

It was almost five past seven when Dee rang the doorbell of the Fitzgeralds' handsome detached house in its own grounds on the hill overlooking Banford. As she waited, she turned to look at the twinkling lights of the village below with the harbour silhouetted in the background and breathed deeply. She loved living here. It was a small town where everyone knew everyone, but the anonymity of Dublin was less than thirty minutes' drive away; definitely the best of both worlds. The door was thrown open and Dee whirled around to see Julia smiling at her.

'Dee, darling, there you are. We thought you'd got lost.'

'Sorry, Sam was—'

'Conor and Ronan are in the living room, go on through.' Julia strode back down the hall towards the kitchen.

Dee sighed and went in search of the two men. They were standing by the fireplace drinking beer and chatting and in the moment before they spotted her, she had a glimpse of the unspoken closeness between father and son.

'Dee!' Ronan turned and smiled and came over to hug her. 'Don't you look lovely?'

She laughed. She had just swapped her customary jeans for a denim skirt so this was a slight exaggeration.

'What will you have to drink?'

'One of them, please.' Dee nodded at their cans. 'Hey, birthday boy, how are you?' she said, smiling at Conor when Ronan had left them.

'I'll be better once I've had my birthday kiss,' he murmured, pulling her into his arms.

Dee turned up her face to oblige and marvelled, as she always did, at how tiny he made her feel and, at five foot seven and nine and a half stone, that was an achievement. He was only three inches taller than her but he was broad and thickset and substantial, the kind of man that made you feel safe. She kissed him gently on the lips and when she drew back he protested.

'Is that it?'

'For now,' she murmured, and handed him a gift as his dad returned with her drink.

'Here you go, love.'

'Thanks, Ronan.'

'This is great, Dee, thanks.' Conor kissed her again and held up the shirt for his father's inspection. 'What do you think, Dad?'

'Very nice.'

'And the DVD, is it the one you wanted?'

'It certainly is. You should come over tomorrow night, Dad, and watch it with me.'

'I'm sure you'd prefer to watch it with Dee.'

She shuddered. 'Oh, no, I couldn't watch one of those blood and guts films; it would give me nightmares for weeks.'

'So are you doing anything tonight?' Ronan asked the couple.

Dee looked at Conor. 'What do you think? Would you be up for a wild night out in Banford's hotspots?'

Conor shook his head worriedly. 'It is a week night.'

'Live dangerously,' she urged.

He grinned. 'Okay then, a pint in Casey's it is.'

'You're as mad as each other,' Ronan said.

'Want to come along?' Dee asked.

'Come where?' Julia bustled in. 'Tea's ready.' She looked pointedly at the beer can in Dee's hand.

'The pub,' Conor said, leading the way into the dining room and smirking at the array of tiny sandwiches and cream cake on the table.

Dee smothered a giggle and avoided his eyes. 'This looks lovely, Julia, thank you.'

'I'd have preferred steak and chips,' Ronan murmured.

'What was that?' Julia's eyes glittered.

'Nothing, dear.'

Julia proceeded to pour stewed tea into tiny china cups as her son picked up two ham sandwiches and bit into them together. 'Conor, really!'

'It's my birthday,' he pointed out, helping himself to two more.

Julia's eyes misted up. 'Thirty-two years ago today; I can't believe it. Your father cried when he saw you.'

'Yeah, you were such an ugly little bugger.' Ronan loaded up his plate.

'He was not,' Julia said stoutly, 'he was a chubby little chap with a mass of black hair and the most wonderful dimples.'

Dee grinned at Conor. 'Have you any pictures, Julia?'

'Yes, of course!' Julia was on her feet.

'She's joking, Mum,' Conor said.

Julia sat down again. 'Very funny.'

'I'm sorry, Julia,' Dee apologized. 'I'm sure he was gorgeous. Not like Sam; he was all wrinkly and as bald as a coot.'

Ronan laughed. 'I've never understood all of this business of "Oh, he looks just like my father" or "He's got my mother's eyes". The only person babies ever resemble is Churchill.'

Conor stuffed another sandwich into his mouth and reached over to cut the cake.

'Wait!' Julia stopped him, 'We have to sing "Happy Birthday".'

'Oh, Mum, for crying out loud.'

But Julia was already sticking candles in the cake. 'Lighter, Ronan.' Her husband obediently handed over his lighter and Julia lit the candles. 'Now.' She smiled tenderly at her son. 'Happy birthday . . .'

'Peanuts?' Conor asked as they climbed on to two barstools in Casey's.

'Oh, yes please.' Dee was ravenous as she usually was after eating at Julia's. She had only nibbled on one of the 'plastic' ham sandwiches and had pushed the birthday cake around the plate hoping the woman wouldn't notice. If only Julia had bought a cake instead of insisting on making her own. Dee had watched in astonishment as Ronan and Conor had polished off two portions each. The Fitzgerald men had obviously been born with cast-iron stomachs and no taste buds. Conor bought them two packs of nuts each and grinned at her as he raised his pint. 'If your son could see you now!'

Dee laughed. She always tried to eat healthily in front of Sam and was careful not to eat things around him that he couldn't. Peanuts were definitely on that list. 'I think he'd forgive me on the grounds that I'm starving. Oh! I forgot to tell you my news. Remember that reporter who stopped me in the supermarket last week?'

He nodded.

'Another journalist from the
Daily Journal
is doing a follow-up article and he wants to interview me.'

Conor grinned. 'You're going to need a manager or an agent at this rate.'

'I doubt that. Still, at least the papers are interested in the issue. Maybe it will make a few people think twice before they throw something into their trolley. It really annoys me that, because of clever packaging, people bring home something they think is relatively healthy.'

'You have mentioned that one or two hundred times before.'

Dee opened her mouth to protest but Conor held up his hand. 'I'm kidding! I think you're right and I think it's great that you care so much about stuff like this.'

'I never bothered until I became a mother. I used to live on takeaways and microwave meals before Sam came along.'

'So when are you going to meet this journalist?' he asked.

'He's dropping by tomorrow morning.' She made a face. 'He wants to see me at work in the kitchen.'

'You know, this could be good exposure for the café.'

'Gosh, yes, I never thought of that. I must make sure to drop the name into the conversation a few times.' Dee finished her peanuts and stifled a yawn.

'You look tired,' he said, stretching out a hand to push her hair out of her eyes.

She turned her face and kissed his hand, smiling at him. 'Not too tired.'

He smiled back, his hazel eyes dark in the dimly lit pub. 'Who's babysitting?'

'Paula.' The seventeen-year-old next-door neighbour was always broke and only too happy to look after Sam.

'Great, so I don't even have to walk her home.'

'Just watch her climb over the wall. So would you like another drink here or shall we have one at home?'

Conor shook his head as she yawned again. 'I think we'd better go.'

'I'm sorry,' she said as they strolled back to her house, his arm wrapped around her waist. 'This isn't much of a birthday celebration, is it?'

He stopped and cupped her face in his hands. 'It's perfect.' He kissed her, gently at first and then more urgently. He tugged at her shirt and moved his hand across the smooth skin of her back and she moaned softly as he pushed his fingers under the waistband of her trousers. She pushed him away, smiling. 'Stop, or we'll be arrested.'

'It would be worth it,' he murmured, pulling her close again.

'Could you imagine your mother,' she said, into his ear before kissing his neck.

'My mother can go and—'

'Dee? Dee Hewson? I thought it was you!'

Dee pulled away from Conor and smiled at the little man standing behind him. 'Uh, hello, Mr Dunne, how are you?'

'Fine, thanks. Nice evening for a stroll.'

'Yes, yes, it is.'

'I was just wondering if there's any fish pie on the menu tomorrow,' he asked hopefully and winked at Conor. 'She makes a wonderful fish pie.'

'Yes; yes, she does,' Conor said. 'She's very good with her hands.'

Dee stepped on his foot. 'Not tomorrow, Mr Dunne, but I'm making some for Friday.'

'Oh, okay then.'

'Tomorrow is steak and kidney pie; you should try it.'

'Maybe I will. Well, goodnight then, safe home.'

'Goodnight, Mr Dunne.' She turned her face into Conor's shirt collar and groaned. 'It could only happen in this town.'

'It's just as well he came along when he did; another five minutes and he might have found you in a very compromising position.'

Dee laughed up at him, her eyes twinkling. 'You're all talk, Conor Fitzgerald.'

He turned for home, tugging her after him. 'We'll see about that!'

When they let themselves in the back door, the kitchen was empty and the small TV in the corner was on but silent. Dee frowned. 'I'll just go and check if everything's okay.' As she got to the landing, Paula was just coming out of Sam's room. 'Is he okay?' she asked, suddenly worried.

Paula nodded and smiled. 'He had a bad dream, but he's asleep again now.'

Dee let out the breath that she hadn't even realized she was holding. 'Did he say anything?'

'Nothing that made sense.'

'Did he have anything to eat before bed?'

'Just one of your cookies and a glass of milk. Honestly, Dee, he's fine.'

They went back downstairs and Dee went to her bag for her purse. 'Thanks, Paula,' she said, handing over the money.

'Any time; he's a little pet. 'night.'

Conor watched from the door as the girl hopped home across the wall and then he came back inside and locked up. 'Is he okay?'

'Just a bad dream,' Dee said. 'It's probably something he ate.'

'I'm sure he's fine.' He drew her into his arms. 'Now, where were we?'

Dee stepped back. 'I just want to look in on him. You get us some drinks and I'll be back in a minute.'

'Fine,' Conor said, and after fetching a beer from the fridge, he settled back on the sofa with the remote control.

Dee crept into her son's room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He didn't stir, one hand flung out over his head, the other tucked under his chin. His cheeks were flushed and looked damp, and Dee laid a hand across his brow. He was warm but not hot, she decided. Still, to be safe, she pulled back the covers and felt his tummy. Sam turned over in protest at the feel of her cool skin against his and she took the opportunity to lift his pyjama top and examine his back. Despite the muted glow from the night light she could see that his skin was clear and, feeling slightly silly, she pulled his top back down, tucked the sheet loosely around him, and left the room.

Guiltily, she hurried back down to Conor. This was really turning out to be a very poor excuse for a birthday. As she walked into the kitchen she began to undo the buttons on her shirt. 'Okay, birthday boy, I hope you're ready for your pres—' Dee pulled up short at the sight of Conor sprawled on the sofa, snoring quietly. 'No way!' she murmured, kicking off her shoes and climbing carefully on to his lap. She started to open the buttons of his shirt, dipping her head to follow her fingers with her lips. 'Hey, birthday boy, you ready for your present?'

Conor smiled but didn't open his eyes as his hands slid around her. 'Oh, yes.'

Lisa settled the toddlers on the floor with blocks and shapes before going into the baby room. Martha was burping one baby, there was another gurgling under a play-gym, and the third was asleep in the crib. 'Keep an eye on my lot, will you? I'm just nipping out to the kitchen. Do you want anything?'

'Yes, food,' Martha begged, 'I never got breakfast.'

'No problem. Dee's cooking up a storm this morning.' Lisa hurried through to the kitchen and sniffed appreciatively as she pushed open the door and was hit by a blast of heat and a host of wonderful aromas. 'God, I was hungry before but now I'm positively drooling!'

Dee laughed as she lifted a tray of scones out of the oven and set them carefully on the hob. 'This journalist is due at eleven and I want to get as much done as I can before he gets here.'

'What are we allowed eat? Martha hasn't had brekkie and lunch is a long time away.'

Dee nodded over at the other counter. 'There are apple sponges and blueberry muffins and, if you fancy a healthier option, there's some soda bread on the table. Or the fruit is ready for the children's snack; you could always have some of that.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Lisa said, fetching the butter from the fridge and hurring towards the breadboard. 'Who's going to do the delivery to the café?'

'Conor said he'd drop by and pick it up.'

'Oh, I forgot to ask, how did the birthday tea go?' Lisa popped a piece of bread in her mouth and buttered some more to take inside.

'Brief, thankfully, and then Conor and I just went for a drink.'

'What did you give him for his birthday?'

Dee suppressed a grin. 'A DVD and a shirt.'

'Is that it?'

'Yes, why?'

'It's not exactly romantic, Dee.'

'And I'm not exactly rich,' Dee reminded her.

'You don't have to spend a lot of money, just get something a bit more personal.'