Love And Devotion Part 21

Howard! She'd forgotten all about him. She hurriedly found her way back to where she'd left him, and got there just in time to see him stepping down from the stage. The audience was giving him a standing ovation.

'Harriet,' he said, red-faced and breathless, 'you missed me. Where were you?'

'I'm sorry, I got waylaid. Another drink?'

'That's okay,' he said, 'I'll get them in. I've never before let a woman buy me a drink, and I'm not about to start now.'

She shook her head and watched him go. By the time he had returned, the entertainment had come to an end and a CD was playing in the background. 'Now tell me, Harriet,' he said, 'are you having fun?'

'Of course I am,' she lied.

'Good. I thought this trip would do you some good. You need some light in your life. You're much too serious for a girl your age.'

'Excuse me? Are you my therapist now?'

He laughed. 'No. I'm your boss and don't you forget it. Cheers.' He wiped the froth of Guinness from his lips with the back of his hand. 'There's something I want to say, Hat. Can I call you Hat?'

Suspecting that he was drunk and she could get away with it, she said, 'No. No one ever calls me Hat.'

He smiled. 'Well, Hat, I think you're doing a great job.'

'Thank you.'

'And I'm not just talking about work. I'm referring to the job you're doing at home.'

She tensed, but said nothing.

'I think it's brilliant, what you're doing, bringing up your sister's children. Can't be easy. And you've never once let it get in the way of your job.'

'How did you know?'

He tapped his nose. 'Adrian. He told me everything.'

'Before or after my interview?'

'Oh, definitely after your interview.'

'You didn't trust me?'

'As it turns out, I was right to think there was more to you than met the eye. So why didn't you tell me about the kiddies?'

'I didn't want them to jeopardise my chances.'

'You rate me pretty poorly then, don't you?'

'It was you who said you didn't want to employ one of those devious girls who'd get herself pregnant then sting you for maternity leave.'

'That's quite a different matter, Hat.'

'Please don't call me Hat.'

'How old are the kiddies?'

'Nine and almost five.'

'And how are you managing childcare wise?'

Seeing as he seemed genuinely interested, she told him about her parents and how she was now trying to buy somewhere to live.

'You've been on a h.e.l.l of a learning curve. Now, Hat, I want you to promise me something.' He leaned in close. Looking at his bloodshot eyes, Harriet wondered if he'd remember much of this conversation in the morning. 'I want you to know that I'm not one of those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who doesn't stand by his employees. I'm a fair man. If you need the odd afternoon off to pick up the children for some reason or other, just make up the hours another day. Okay?'

'Thank you, that's very ... very kind of you,' she said, and seizing the opportunity, added, 'Can I do that tomorrow afternoon when we get back?'

'Sure. Anything you say.'

The next morning, Harriet was awake early. Unable to get back to sleep, she decided to go for a walk in the park opposite the hotel. It would be another two hours before Howard was meeting her for breakfast. It was a frosty morning - cold enough to see her breath in the air - and with her scarf wrapped around her neck and her hands pushed deep into her pockets, she set out to explore the park. Last night's conversation with Howard was on her mind. She supposed she shouldn't have been too surprised that Adrian had told Howard about her circ.u.mstances, but she hoped it wouldn't mark her out for special treatment. The important thing was that she was doing the job she'd been employed to do, to the best of her ability. When they were walking back to the hotel, Howard had said, 'You know, Hat, Adrian warned me there was a danger your dignified self-containment would get up my nose.'

'And does it?' she'd asked. If she ever saw Adrian again, he'd better watch out!

'Nah. I knew you'd be putty in my hands.'

'If you weren't my boss, I'd thump you for that.'

'Just as well I'm your boss, then.'

Harriet hadn't been walking for long when she noticed a figure on a bench ahead of her. Bundled up in a thick overcoat, he was leaning forwards, his elbows resting on his knees. He looked like he was deep in prayer. As she approached him, a p.r.i.c.kle of recognition caused her to stare even harder at him. To her astonishment, she was looking at the only man other than Howard who had got away with calling her Hat.

Chapter Thirty-Five.

'Dominic?'

'Good G.o.d, Harriet. Is that really you, or am I dreaming?'

'Perhaps we're both dreaming. What brings you to Dublin?'

He waved a hand airily. 'I'm ransacking Trinity's library for a paper I'm doing on Yeats. The poet,' he added.

She sat on the bench next to him, noting how tired and dishevelled he looked. Like a man who hadn't been to bed perhaps. Certainly not his own bed. Same old Dominic, then. 'Yes, Dominic, I am aware who Yeats is,' she said tightly. 'I'm not quite that thick, you know.'

He ignored the jibe. 'So what are you doing here?'

'Work. I'm here with my boss. We're staying in the hotel just over there.' She pointed across the park, through the thinning trees where the early morning sun was melting the frost on the gra.s.s. 'We leave this morning,' she added.

'Who's looking after Carrie and Joel while you're away?'

'Who do you think? Mum and Dad, of course.'

'And they're well?'

These questions from Dominic enquiring about someone else wrong-footed her. So often it was only his own welfare he was concerned about. 'Sorry. Who?'

He turned sharply. 'Just what exactly is your problem?'

'I'm not aware I have a problem. All I was wondering was who you meant specifically.'

'Is it entirely beyond the realms of your feeble understanding that I might ask after the children as well as your parents? Or have you imposed some kind of embargo on whose health I might be interested in? Just as you have when it comes to displays of grief.' He shook his head. 'Who'd have thought you'd turn into such a fascist?'

'And who'd have thought you'd turn into an even bigger b.a.s.t.a.r.d than the one we thought you were destined to be.'

He glared at her, then suddenly tipped his head back and laughed. 'I'm disappointed in you. How could you have ever underestimated me? I'd have hoped you of all people wouldn't make that error. Me, I'm the biggest b.a.s.t.a.r.d going.'

'Not entirely. You were very sweet to write to Carrie. And there were those chocolates you gave us.'

He shuddered. 'I knew that was a mistake. And if I ever hear you call me sweet again, I shall have to kill you. Now shut up, you obnoxious harridan, and give me a hug. I'm in dire need of one.'

Surprised to find herself wrapped in his arms, Harriet breathed in the smell of his woollen overcoat and the remnants of aftershave and shaving cream - just for effect, he'd always used an old-fas.h.i.+oned cutthroat razor. He held her fiercely then let her go, grazing his stubbly jaw against her cheek. She saw that his eyes were moist and bloodshot.

'You okay?'

'As it happens, no I'm not. I'm under siege.'

'Am I allowed to ask why?'

'I think I'm on the verge of a breakdown.'

The directness of his words shocked her. She didn't know what to say, and waited for him to go on.

He slumped forward, adopting the same position he'd had when she first saw him, elbows resting on his knees. 'I've been doing a lot of thinking,' he said softly. 'I've come to the only possible conclusion: that nothing much matters. Everything's so d.a.m.ned futile. Life has as much point to it as a mote of dust.'

'You mean in the light of Felicity's death?' she asked.

His head snapped up. 'Well, of course I do! What the h.e.l.l else could I be referring to?'

'Look, if you're going to bite my head off every time I say something, then there's no point in us talking. I might just as well leave you to - '

He suddenly reached out to her. 'Please. I'm sorry. Don't go flouncing off in a huff. I couldn't bear it. You don't know how much it means to me b.u.mping into you like this.'

His voice was unbearably contrite and Harriet felt a wave of compa.s.sion for him. 'Okay. But be nice to me or I'll walk.'

Grinding the heel of his shoe on the tarmac beneath him, he nodded. 'Thank you. I'll do my best to behave.'

After a lengthy pause, she said, 'So tell me why you think everything's so futile.'

'I'd have thought that was obvious. It's because I'm completely and utterly alone in this world. If I was to die tomorrow, who would mourn my pa.s.sing? Who would even care?'

'Aren't you forgetting your parents and Miles? And what about me? I'd miss you. There'd be no one to fight with,' she added lightly, hoping to lift the conversation.

But her attempt went unnoticed. 'I'm talking about love. Real love. The kind of all-consuming love Yeats understood too well.' He stared straight ahead. "'And who could play it well enough if deaf and dumb and blind with love? He that made this knows all the cost, for he gave all his heart and lost."'

'You don't have the monopoly on not being loved, Dominic. I don't exactly have a queue of people lining up to wors.h.i.+p the ground I walk on.'

'But you have Carrie and Joel who rely on you. They need you. Who the h.e.l.l needs me? What difference do I make to the world?'

'You have your work. Your students. Your poetry.'

He shrugged. 'It means nothing. Trust me. Come on, let's walk.' He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

They linked arms and as they strolled along the path, a squirrel shot out from under a bush. Harriet felt Dominic start at the suddenness of it. Hearing him curse violently under his breath, she wondered, and not a little sadly, if he had been speaking the truth when he said he was on the verge of a breakdown. 'How long have you been feeling like this, Dominic?' she asked.

'All my life.'

'I'm being serious,' she said.

'So was I. I've always felt as though I was on the verge of something. Madness. Greatness. Whatever.'

'Have you seen a doctor?'

'No, but I have seen a priest. I'm worried about my spiritual welfare.'

She laughed, but immediately wished she hadn't.

'Sod you, Harriet. I was being serious again.'

'It was so unexpected hearing you speak like that. I'm sorry.'

'So you should be. That was the difference between you and Felicity. Felicity was perfectly in tune with me. She never misinterpreted anything I said. She could always read between the lines.'

Harriet came to a stop. 'You know what? I'm sick of people criticising me.'

'Then do something about it.'

'I can't. I'm me. I'm Harriet Swift. The way I think is the way I am. Why can't people accept that?'

'They probably do. But it doesn't make it any less irritating. Jung said that the unconscious part of our own personality may be our best friend or our greatest enemy. Go figure.' He gripped her arm and dragged her on. 'So who else has been having a go at you, besides me?'

Thinking that he was the second person to quote Jung at her - Will had been the first - she told him about Howard saying she thought too literally, not realising until now just how deeply his comment had resonated with her. 'Do you think I'm too literal?' she asked Dominic.

'Of course you are. You always have been.'

'Is it a bad thing?'

'Yes. You lose sight of the wider picture. You see only the detail.'