What Happened to Us?

  WHAT HAPPENED TO US?

  Faith Hogan

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  About this Book

  About the Author

  Table of Contents

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  About What Happened to Us?

  Carrie Nolan is devastated when she is dumped by Kevin Mulvey after more than a decade without even a backwards glance!On reflection, she has sacrificed her own long term happiness establishing their critically acclaimed Dublin restaurant and pandering to his excessive ego.

  Meanwhile Kevin can’t believe his luck.Valentina, their new waitress is a stunner, the kind of girl that turns heads when she walks in a room and surprise, surprise she has chosen him!He is living the dream!

  Carrie seeks solace from a circle of mismatched friends who need her as much as she needs them.Jane, who struggles to run the pub on the opposite side of the street, Luke, who has stopped drifting while his father settles in a nearby nursing home and Teddy, a dog who asks for nothing more than the chance to stay by Carrie’s side.

  With Christmas just around the corner, all is not quite as it seems and a catastrophic sequence of events leads to the unthinkable…

  How far do you need to fall before you learn the true value of family and friends? And is it ever too late to start again…

  Contents

  Welcome Page

  About What Happened to Us?

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Thank you

  Acknowledgements

  About Faith Hogan

  Also by Faith Hogan

  Become an Aria Addict

  Copyright

  For the Aria Girls –

  Caroline, Sarah, Nikky, Jade, Geo, Sue, Michelle, Vicky, Hannah and Melanie –

  Thank You!

  One

  Dublin

  The first night of winter and it was wet, very wet, and she knew the rain was pouring in drops down her face, could feel them drip, drip, dripping off the end of her nose. She could feel the tears too, hot and stingy in her eyes. Someone had given her a cigarette, miraculously she’d managed to smoke halfway down, but it was soggy and extinguished now, which was no bad thing. She never smoked, why add to her list of failures at this late stage?

  At the far end of the lane, something or someone caught her eye, but she must be mistaken, because who in their right mind would be out on an evening like this? Probably a stray cat, attracted by the heat and aromas that emanated from the fans blowing into the frigid night air.

  Her thoughts darted back to the kitchen behind her, Kevin, bloody Kevin. Well, she hadn’t seen that coming had she. She was still reeling, angry, upset and, yes, she could admit it to herself, broken-hearted. And Valentina? Kevin was in love with Valentina, he’d told her, so it must be true.

  She raised the dead cigarette to her lips once more, hardly noticed that it tasted disgusting. He’d only met her a few months ago, that was when she came to work in the restaurant. The girl, that’s all she was, in her mid-twenties at most, but she looked no more than seventeen, had hardly a word of English four months ago. Yet, here Valentina and Kevin had become an item. How did that work? Oh, maybe she knew the answer to that already.

  Things had cooled off a long time ago between Carrie and Kevin. She never counted the fact that they didn’t have children. No reason, just one of those things, it never happened, she knew that to Kevin it was a relief. They settled onto their path, confident it would lead them to a contented old age. If the road markings she always took for granted were stolen from her, she blocked out her childlessness with the success of the restaurant and a gratitude for the simple things in life. Yet somewhere between moving in together and working sixteen hours a day to get the restaurant up and running, they had lost each other. Funny, but they spent so much time together that they managed to lose their connection. He’d started sleeping in the spare room when her snoring became too loud. He didn’t say it was because she had become overweight and the bottle of wine each evening didn’t help either. She was fast to point out her sinuses were playing up and what could she do about it? She’d been a little relieved, to tell the truth. He had a habit of leaving hair oil all over the pillows, so she felt like she was wearing half a pot of Brylcreem most days.

  It was still a shock though.

  It was less than forty-eight hours ago.

  They had walked into her office; bold as brass, the pair of them, holding hands.

  ‘There’s something I need to tell you, Carrie.’ He’d had the good grace to look embarrassed.

  ‘It is only fair, it is only right.’ Valentina was contrite, her dusky Colombian voice, throaty and whispering. Did they want her blessing?

  ‘Nothing has happened, but…’ Kevin looked down at his hand, joined tight with Valentina’s. Well that was a lie straight off.

  ‘Really, nothing has happened?’ Carrie looked deep into his eyes, managed to keep the tears from her own. It wasn’t hard, she probably should have been angry or distraught, but somehow, she just felt numb.

  ‘No, I mean…’ Kevin looked at Valentina, his slack-jawed face was pleading for help.

  Carrie knew him long enough to read him like a book. What a pity she hadn’t kept her eyes on the pages, she thought.

  ‘Kevin, please.’ She wasn’t begging him, but the least he owed her was the truth. ‘This place, Kevin, all the years, all the days and nights of work… at least be honest with me.’

  ‘We… I didn’t want to hurt you. I couldn’t… I mean, I can’t help it. We’re in love, Carrie, and it’s a while since I felt this way.’

  ‘I see.’ Funny, but having it confirmed did not make it any better. This place, her office, had suddenly felt like none of it was hers anymore. That was just absurd though. It was hers, every bit of it, the restaurant, the five stars, the whole business from start to finish, she had built it up. Kevin might have been the talent, he might have been the toast of the Dublin foodie scene, but she was the brains behind the operation. Kevin was the technical force, but everything else in this business was down to her. She’d picked the building, the art on the walls, she’d organised launches and managed to get the press to feature them. She’d chosen the tablecloths and ordered the wines and she did the hiring and firing. She’d hired Valentina because she came with good references. Of course, she was a stunner, everything about her was glossy, as if she had been dipped in polish; inky black hair, a wide vermillion smile and impossibly white teeth. She slunk about the restaurant, weaving her curves through the tables and flirting throatily with everyone she met. The customers loved a bit of glamour about the place. She was smart too, and from the moment she set foot in the restaurant, Carrie had a feeling that one day, Valentina could be capable of running somewhere every bit as good as ‘The Sea Pear’, but this was the last thing she had expected.

  ‘Is that all you can say, “I see”,’ Kevin looked like a five-year-old, waiting for a scolding after walking muddy shoes across the kitchen floor.

  ‘Well, it’s a shock, obviously.’ Carrie had managed to look him in the eye, but she would not cry, not before them. They’d left with light steps and the soft click of the door behind t
hem.

  It took two days. It was unreal of course, those two days; Kevin had not come home. Carrie assumed he was staying with Valentina – where else? Maybe that incongruity had stoppered her rage, because she knew she had every right to be angry with him – with both of them. Instead, by going on as if things were completely normal, showing up for work and still keeping out of each other’s way, it felt as though her fury was in a vacuum. Somehow it seemed irrational to cry and scream and wipe the floor with them as she knew they deserved.

  They’d gone through their usual routines, arrived at work at the normal time, Carrie spoke with staff and customers with her usual charm, like nothing had changed. Kevin stayed in the safety of the kitchen, immersed in the nuts and bolts of keeping orders moving through to his own exacting standards. Then today, the dam had somehow washed through and as she’d walked through the kitchen, she saw them. It was all very casual. He was checking sauces, Valentina was handing him seasoning and she placed her hand on his arm, there was just a glance. It was a fleeting look that said so much more than they managed to convey a couple of days earlier when they told her. It was filled with intimacy, charged with chemistry and Carrie could see it was fuelled by alliance. It suddenly struck her, the thing that she managed to ignore for two whole days. It dawned on her, that it was not just that her relationship of over a decade had died a lingering death until it’s final cruel severing, that was not what tipped her emotions over in the end. Rather it was realising that Kevin and Valentina were a couple and she was trapped here with the two of them.

  She’d run to the back door, flung herself through it. She’d needed air, suddenly, she was stifled with heat, misery and a dreadful tightening in her gut that she knew was something close to emotional claustrophobia. One of the cleaners had been sheltering, smoking a rolled-up cigarette. It could have been a joint for all Carrie knew. He’d tapped open a bruised-looking tin box and handed one across to her, lit it silently with his back crouched over it against the bitter night and left her to it. The door had banged heavily in his wake, and here she’d stood, for almost twenty minutes while watery sleet pelted from the heavens.

  The evening was beginning to darken, the sky menaced layers of gloomy grey that would not push over until they had blown Dublin inside out. Carrie pushed back her fiery curly hair from her face, the sleet against her cheeks like icy cold slaps that she hoped might snap her out of this nightmare. She tried to imagine that far above the clouds, a blue sky with the sun shining waited to impart some light. She couldn’t come near to mustering up the image.

  Again, at the far end of the lane, something moved in the dusky shadows, she was sure of it now. Suddenly, she became aware that she was standing sodden and alone in a downpour, looking like an out-of-condition wet T-shirt wannabe. She had to make a choice, go back into the busy kitchen, looking like a drowned rabbit and face Kevin and Valentina or stay here with whoever was lurking about down the lane. The shape was tall, dark, and suddenly a little intimidating.

  Carrie quickly pulled the restaurant door, but it was stuck. The cleaner must have let the lock slip in his haste to get away from her. To be fair, she’d probably scared the wits out of him, with her tear-filled eyes and spluttering sobs and now the man – it was definitely a man – was moving towards her. He was dressed in black and he certainly didn’t look like the type to be hanging about dark alleys, but then, who knew what he was up to? This was a dead-end alleyway; it led nowhere but to the back doors of businesses. Anyone lurking about down here was either up to no good or making plans to get up to no good.

  Anxious and panic-stricken, she turned towards the door, pulled at it furiously, but there was no budging it. Fear tore up through her, threatening to overtake her, she fought the urge to scream, where had the bloody key gone? Carrie began to thump loudly on the door. She wasn’t thinking rationally now – she was hardly breathing, never mind thinking. Her logical self was so consumed in just going through the motions these last few days, it meant that she was unusually jittery. It felt as though her natural equilibrium had tilted over, so shadows made her jump, loud noises tripped her up and anything out of the ordinary caused her stomach to turn to a knotty fist. She tried not to picture the stranger advancing at her back in the sleeting rain, with the city a soundless far-off cry.

  Carrie filled with fear. Unreasonable as it might be, she just expected the worst on this black night. ‘Don’t come near me, I’ll scream,’ she said the words softly, but inside they were already shattering through her brain.

  He stopped at the bins, lingered for a moment and she realised, he was looking for something. He turned and, for a moment, their eyes locked, and she could see, he was weary. That realisation didn’t exactly foster any sense of civic duty, rather the terror that had filled her up turned to a frantic dread. She banged on the metal door, louder now so it echoed out above the sleet. She closed her eyes, fully expecting the worst. They wouldn’t hear her inside. The kitchen was loud and busy and its walls held captive the sound from outside. Kevin was preparing mains for a full house; he wouldn’t notice her rattling against the outer door. She laughed, a nervous wretched sound, he didn’t notice her when she was standing in front of him these days, not now Valentina was on the scene, it was ludicrous. Madness to think he might come to her rescue now.

  It was useless. She turned, accepting her fate. He probably carried a knife; you never knew, after all…

  Oh, God, the most terrible thought, all those serial killers, they looked normal, average, even maybe attractive, it was how they lured their victims in. This was the kind of man, tall, handsome, brooding, he could be…

  She opened her eyes to see him, just a little distance from her, he was bending down, fiddling on the step near her feet by the pot the staff used for collecting used cigarette ends. He turned abruptly. Something glinted in his hands. She could see the light of it cast up before him, too dull to gleam, but there all the same. She felt weak, but she would not close her eyes again. He stood before her now, taller than her, broader, solemn. In that moment, she thought his face and body were so close, she could smell him. It was a wafting sense of soap, but she felt light-headed and weak with fear and knew she must have imagined it. Then the oddest thing, his eyes, dark and almost shaded in the half-light, creased just a little at the sides. He was smiling at her, holding something before him and smiling. She pulled her eyes from his and looked down. It was a key. He was holding a key; he must have pulled it from beside the pot.

  ‘Here,’ his voice was hoarse and heavy, maybe darker than his eyes, but they danced with an emotion she could not name. He handed her the key and stepped back from her, their eyes still locked.

  Then, she turned quickly, thrust the key in the lock and pushed the heavy door. Suddenly, she was in the hot kitchen, wafting aromas of beef and fish and pork filling her nostrils. Everyone working busily at their stations. They didn’t notice her, standing there, wet, scared and miserable.

  Then she realised, she’d never said thank you. She’d never thanked the man. Perhaps she should offer him something, food or at least a cup of tea? She stood for a moment, dripping on the non-slip tiles that Kevin was so obsessed with keeping dry. She watched him now, he moved about the kitchen with the kind of deftness and speed that only shaved past others, while all the time checking over shoulders and seeing to his own tasks. He was immune to the people around him. He worked the restaurant like an intricate dance routine, chopping, slicing, stirring, spinning, weaving, smelling and tasting. It was so unlike Carrie’s role and she realised that a moment ago her reaction outside the door had been classic Kevin. Kevin expected nothing from people, he begrudged paying a decent wage to his employees and he assumed that most people he met would take rather than give.

  Carrie drew her breath in sharply. She would not become like him now, not just because she was broken-hearted or anxious or… Well, whatever she was – she was holding onto the basic human decency that separated the happy from the empty.

  S
he had to say thanks. Without the key, she would still be there, locked out and forced to walk around the front, in through the crowded restaurant looking a mess. She opened the door quickly, the rush of cold air an instant souvenir of what she’d just escaped. She looked up and down the laneway, stepped outside for just a moment and scanned every crevice along the route. It was snowing now, silent and empty, the only sound a whimpering dog that nosed out from beneath the huge wheelie bin opposite.

  ‘Aw,’ she heard the sound escape from where it had lodged at the back of her throat. Carrie dashed across the alley, grabbed the little dog, pulling him out from his abysmal sheltering spot. He nuzzled her neck; they were as wet and miserable as each other, but he was friendless and vulnerable. When she rested her chin on his head, he was soft and silken-haired despite the dirt.

  She stood for a moment looking about her in the hollow darkness. ‘Hello, is there anyone there?’ She called out to see if the man might step forward again to claim this little dog.

  There was no sign of anyone in the alley now, only Carrie standing in the shaft of light and wafting steam at the wedged door. She searched the darkened corners with eyes that stung from salty pathetic tears, but deep down, she knew, he was gone.

  *

  It was over a long time before Valentina walked into the restaurant. It was over between him and Carrie, probably for years. The truth was, he needed her and, as Valentina said, that’s no basis for a relationship.

  God, she was hot. Valentina was the love of his life, simple as that.

  ‘It’s just sex, mate.’ His friend Jim said when he told him. Marriage and kids had made Jim philosophical about sex – these days he was more interested in football and property prices, or at least that’s how it sounded to Kevin.

  ‘It’s not just sex, it’s…’ Kevin couldn’t begin to explain to Jim. Jim above all people, with his safe marriage to Sandra and their two perfect children. ‘It’s the real thing. Valentina is the love of my life, the kind of woman every man wants on his arm.’