Page 63 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
With the kids at school and Mum’s taxi hard at work, Mary felt as though the world was going on without her. Everyone was submerged in their own lives while she drowned in hers. Days had passed since the Halloween party, but Ruari’s comment remained a persistent itch.
The thought of her husband spending time at Creek House refused to go away. Any attempt to discuss the subject with Conor was met with eye-rolling and a heavy sigh, as though she were the most tiresome person alive.
‘Mary, for God’s sake, why do you go on and on?’ Conor snapped one afternoon when he’d called home to collect his golf clubs.
‘I can’t help it,’ she persisted, her throat tight. ‘You’renever at home, and I heard Ruari say that he saw you at Lucinda’s home.’
‘Hah! You know what they say about eavesdropping, and you’ve completely misinterpreted that conversation.’ Conor stomped around the kitchen, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. ‘You’re like a desperate detective,’ he said, his voice sharp with irritation. ‘Yes, it’s true. Ioncevisited Creek House to collect paperwork for a property being co-sold by our businesses. And guess what? Your troublemaking friend was valeting one of Lucinda’s cars. Ruari is not to be trusted, and you are a fool to listen to anything he says!’
Conor bristled with barely contained anger and Mary winced as he slammed the kitchen door behind him. The walls shook and the sting of his words cut deep, leaving her feeling humiliated.
It was clear to Mary now that Conor saw her as nothing more than a foolish, insecure woman. ‘Don’t you see how busy I am providing for this family?’he would ask. ‘Don’t you understand how tired I am after a long day, with my remaining energy spent on the children?’
Later that evening, as they prepared for bed, Conor had said surely she had better things to do than mistrust her husband, that he only ever had his family’s best interests at heart.
He always had all the answers, and with no hard evidence to challenge him, Mary found herself giving in once again.
At night, if they made love, she was aware of the physical closeness they shared in the moment, but everytouch felt tainted by betrayal.Was his affection genuine, or was it merely a cover-up to conceal his affair?Her trust was crumbling, and suspicion enveloped her in a cloud of confusion.
That morning, as she stood alone in the house, Mary wondered where her marriage was heading. After breakfast, she followed Conor into the hallway and queried when he’d be home. Unable to stop herself, she asked if his meetings would be held at Creek House that day – and whether the lovely Lucinda would be in attendance.
She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips.
Conor sighed and scowled. ‘You can’t let it go, can you?’ he’d said as he shrugged his arms into a cashmere coat and picked up his document case. ‘You are obsessed with something that simply isn’t true.’ He shook his head and issued a parting shot. ‘For your information, I shall be in the office all day. If you spent as much time on yourself as you do doubting me, I’d have the wife I married – not the cumbersome woman you’ve become.’
Cumbersome? Bullseye!Conor had hit his target, and Mary cringed as the door slammed behind him.
‘What’s dad getting his boxers in a bunch for?’ Caitlin asked as she joined Mary in the hall. ‘He’s always got a bee in his bonnet these days,’ she added, reaching into the cloakroom to find her coat.
‘Oh, it’s nothing, just work,’ Mary replied. ‘Your dad has a lot on.’
Pasting on a smile, she returned to the kitchen to chivvy Maeve, Finn, and Declan. ‘Come on, you lot,’ Mary said, reaching for bags and lunch boxes. ‘You’re going to be late for school.’
The clock in the kitchen at Belvedere House inched towards noon. Mary raced through her chores and now stood by the patio windows, staring out at a kaleidoscope of autumn colours, where trees swayed in the chilly breeze. Their amber and gold leaves fell lightly to the ground. Mary could almost smell the salty tang of the sea drifting over the Old Head of Kindale in the distance. It had carried into the garden, where the large lawn was enclosed by rustic stone walls, and clusters of late-blooming flowers peeped out from deep borders, their petals proud, as though reluctant to bid farewell to the fading year.
How beautiful it is, Mary thought as she slouched against the glass.
She remembered the pleasure she’d shared with Conor when the house had been built, and they’d painstakingly planned their garden. In one corner, Conor had designed a play area for the children, with a treehouse perched above a swing hanging from an oak tree, alongside a slide and climbing frame. Opposite lay beds of roses, and Mary thought of the multiple blooms in summer as bees buzzed from flower to flower. Benches were placed in sunny spots, and comfortable garden furniture sat beneath winter covers.
Suddenly, the wind lashed with a sharp gust, and a branch scratched across the window. It caught Mary off guard, as though alerting her to the reality of her situation.
‘Pull yourself together!’ Mary chided herself. Thrusting out her chin, she drew herself up to full height, then placed her hands on her hips.Are you really prepared to givethis all up?
If Conorwastelling the truth, she conceded, she vowed at that moment to believe him. There had to be trust in their relationship.
Turning away from the garden, Mary suddenly decided that she would surprise Conor. With the kids at school, the daily mountain of laundry chugging in the machine, dinner prepared, and an hour or two to spare before the school run, she realised it had been months since they’d had lunch together – he’d told her he would be in the office all day.
If Conor said nothing was going on with Lucinda, Mary thought as she raced around pulling a picnic lunch together,she had to believe him and get on with ‘making the most of their marriage’– words that Una had repeatedly spoken. Una had told Mary that it was futile to feel sorry for herself and that she should be putting in the effort to make things work instead.
Roisin was due at any time, and Mary wanted to avoid her. If Ruari let slip the incident at Declan’s party, she didn’t want to face any awkward questions. Gossip was Roisin’s original social network, which she spread while going about her cleaning duties.
Hurrying upstairs, Mary stood in front of a mirror and studied her waistline. Her leggings did little to flatten the tummy, which seemed to have risen faster than the balloons at Declan’s party. Still, as she examined her face, Mary thought that the rest of her wasn’t so bad. Her hair was silky and thick, with rich curls that flattered. Thanks to the glycolic acid oxygen peel by the beautician at Gaelic Glow, which promised to resurface and brighten, her skin shone.The peel had shed more layers of skin than a snake, and her current glow was almost youthful in a certain light.
She chose the most flattering outfit she could find: designer jeans, a navy T-shirt, and a white jacket edged in faux fur. Leather ankle boots and a matching bag topped it off. As she stared at her reflection, Mary touched her cheeks as if to smooth away the traces of too many restless nights and glasses of wine.
‘I could carry my shopping in those bags,’ she muttered, pulling a face as she stroked another layer of concealer over the dark circles beneath her eyes. Adding bright lipstick, a spray of perfume, and fluffing out her hair, she raced down the stairs.
‘Rats!’ Mary exclaimed, almost tripping over Roisin, who was kneeling in the hallway. ‘You’re early.’ Mary felt the woman’s eyes study her from head to toe.
