Between The Sheets Read online

  Iris gave a sniff of disapproval. 'You and Mr Johnson should be allowed to sort out your problems in private.'

  'What makes you think we're going to?' Dana challenged. She knew the woman had a soft spot for Gus and probably thought that he had left for good reason.

  Iris smiled as she hung up Dana's clothes from the night before. 'You belong together,' she said simply.

  'He doesn't seem to think so,' Dana said miserably.

  'I'm sure he'll come round. Now, Mrs Johnson, if there's nothing else I'll get back to work.'

  'There is one thing.'

  'Yes?'

  'Please stop calling me Mrs Johnson. It's Dana from now on, okay?'

  The housekeeper smiled sadly. 'If that's what you'd prefer.'

  When she was gone, Dana tossed the paper on to the floor and reached for the plate of eggs. They tasted as good as they looked and with a pang of guilt she realized she hadn't even thanked Iris. She'd better apologize later for her grumpiness. As she munched on the lightly buttered toast her eyes were drawn back to the newspaper. She had to admit that Ian Wilson had done a good job. She looked quite good and reasonably happy. It would be great if Gus saw it. He probably thought she was devastated that he'd left, but this picture told a different story. Okay, it wasn't true, but he didn't know that.

  Feeling slightly less humiliated and miserable than she had since Gus had gone, Dana decided that she'd try to write a few pages after her shower.

  Before all of this madness started, The Mile High Club had been going really well. She remembered how caught up she'd been in the novel that night Gus had dropped his bombshell, and yet she hadn't written a single word since. Ridiculous, she decided, sipping her coffee thoughtfully. She couldn't turn into the kind of pathetic creature that fell to pieces over a man. 'You already have,' she said aloud, thinking of how she'd been locking herself away from the world. Well, no more. Last night hadn't been easy, but it would get better. The more she smiled and partied, the less people would pity her. And Gus would realize that she could manage just fine without him.

  An hour later, dressed in loose cotton trousers and a vest top, she went down to her office, threw open the french windows that led into her beloved garden, and sat down at her desk. She was glad that Sylvie was at the dentist today; she didn't need an audience. She felt nervous enough as it was. Switching on her laptop, she searched for the The Mile High Club file and decided to print off what she'd written so far. While the printer was shooting out pages, she went into the kitchen in search of more coffee, and found Iris cleaning out the cupboards.

  'Oh, Mrs John— er, can I get you something?'

  'That's okay, Iris,' she said, nodding towards the coffee pot, 'I just need a refill.' She quickly filled a mug and headed for the door. 'And, Iris? Thanks for the brekkie, it was lovely.'

  Iris smiled. 'I'm glad you liked it.'

  Armed with her coffee and sunglasses, Dana took the manuscript out to the garden and settled herself in a comfy sun chair. After taking a few moments to appreciate the warm summer sun on her face and the scent of roses in the air, she put on her glasses and started to read. Her confidence and excitement built with each page she read; this was even better than she remembered. When she finished — almost an hour later — she almost ran back inside, sat down at her desk and pulled her laptop towards her. She stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keys.

  Bobbi couldn't wait any longer and taking out her mobile phone, she called Victor. His answering service answered and she frowned in irritation. 'Hi, it's just me, Bobbi. Give me a call when you get a chance

  'Crap,' Dana muttered and deleted the line. This was a cosmopolitan woman not some sad, silly girl whose whole life revolved around a man.

  Victor hadn't called in three days, Bobbi realized, but then she wasn't that easy to contact given she spent most of the day in the air. Having said that, he could have left a message.

  'No! What's wrong with you?' she chided herself in frustration. Bobbi Blackwell, the dynamic, sexy pilot, had turned into a paranoid wimp; how had that happened? As if she didn't know. Dana pressed delete again and stared at the screen, willing inspiration to come. After a few more pathetic attempts she cursed, stood up and walked over to the window. Maybe it was just the warm weather that was making it hard for her to settle down to work, she reasoned. It was a beautiful, balmy day and her garden looked luscious and tempting. Apart from the noise of a distant lawn mower there was only the buzz of insects flying among the roses and carnations and the many other more exotic blooms that she couldn't name. Creating a vibrant, colourful garden had always been one of her top priorities when she and Gus had bought this property. Sadly her fingers were far from green and her husband's were even worse so she had hired someone else to do the work and create her dream.

  Dana turned back to her desk but couldn't bring herself to sit down. Perhaps a swim would help, she thought, brightening at the prospect. She quickly made her way down through the garden, and skirting the pool she went into the small, single-storey building behind it. Here was housed a bathroom, Gus's exercise equipment and a wardrobe with swimming costumes and towels.

  Dana changed into a black one-piece and then turned to the mirror to pin up her hair. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of Gus's old trainers by the door. He'd obviously forgotten to check the pool-house when he was clearing out his stuff. She opened his drawer and, right enough, it was full of his things. An old razor, some eye drops, a comb, a few crumpled business cards, some loose change and a burgundy silk tie that he'd been complaining Iris had misplaced.

  She smiled as she remembered the evening he'd joked that maybe Iris had nicked it to give to a boyfriend.

  'One of the blokes from the church choir, I'll bet,' he'd said, making Dana laugh, 'or perhaps it's the parish priest himself.'

  'Priests don't wear ties,' Dana had pointed out.

  'Ah.' He'd tapped the side of his nose. 'Not when they're working they don't, but who knows what they get up to on their days off?'

  She folded the tie carefully and put it back in the drawer. Then, taking a large fluffy towel from the cupboard she went out to the pool and dived in, gasping in shock at how cold it was. As she treaded water, allowing her body to become accustomed to the temperature, she looked up at the windows of her home. Her eyes were automatically drawn to Gus's office and she felt a pang of physical pain. He'd often worked from home and although he would be locked in his office and she in hers, she'd liked knowing he was there. She'd kept out of that room since he'd left. Somehow it felt like she'd be invading his privacy even though it was now empty of all his belongings. But, in truth, the whole house felt empty and slightly alien without him. Dana often found herself creeping around it like an unwelcome stranger.

  Feeling the dark cloud of depression threatening to descend on her once more, Dana began to swim as if her life depended on it. She swam up and down the pool until her limbs trembled with the effort. When she finally stopped for a rest it was to find Iris standing by the pool, a towel in her hands. 'There's a call for you, Mrs— I mean, Dana.'

  Dana's face lit up as she climbed out, took the towel and wrapped it around her. 'Is it Gus?'

  The housekeeper's eyes filled with pity. 'I'm sorry, no.'

  'Then who?' Dana demanded crossly trying to mask her disappointment.

  'Hi, Dana.'

  'Judy?'

  'I just read about you and Gus in the paper and I had to call to make sure you were okay.'

  Dana sighed as she sank into a chair, her body still damp. 'I'm fine.'

  'Are you sure? I just couldn't believe it. I thought you two were happy.'

  'Me too,' Dana admitted, tears pricking her eyes.

  'But what happened?' Judy persisted.

  'He said he wasn't happy any more; that our marriage hadn't turned out the way he'd expected.'

  'That's it?' Judy's voice went up an octave.

  'Pretty much,' Dana said tightly. She didn't want to talk about what G
us had said that night to anyone, particularly not Judy Higgins. 'Look, Judy, I can't really talk right now; I have someone with me. I'll call you back, okay?'

  Judy was not so easily put off. 'Soon, Dana, okay?'

  'Yeah, Judy, soon. Thanks for calling. Bye.' After she hung up, Dana stood up and, wrapping the towel tightly around her, went into the house. She was halfway across the hall when Iris appeared.

  'I'm so sorry, Dana, I didn't mean ...' she trailed off.

  Dana smiled faintly. 'To get my hopes up? Don't worry about it, Iris. He's not going to ring and it's about time I got used to the idea.'

  Chapter Four

  'You know, you were the last person I expected to be having a drink with on a Saturday night,' Walter said. They were sitting in a quiet corner of the Donovan bar in Brown's Hotel in Mayfair and though it was busy, the conversation was muted and the privacy absolute.

  Gus smiled slightly. 'Thank you for agreeing to see me, Wally.'

  Walter frowned at him over his glass. 'Only my friends call me Wally.'

  'I'm sorry you no longer consider me one.'

  'Are you surprised? I mean, what on earth were you thinking of, Gus? Walking out on Dana, after all this time! What's all that about? Is it another woman?' His lips twitched. 'Or man?'

  Gus shook his head. 'Neither.'

  'Well, come on, then. You didn't come all the way to London just to sit looking at me.'

  'I wanted to ask you about Dana. About what she was like before I came along. What she was like when you first met.'

  Walter shook his head. "You answer my questions and then, maybe, I'll answer yours.'

  Gus shifted uncomfortably and pulled at his collar. His drink had sat untouched in front of him but now he picked it up and turned it round and round in his hands. 'Recently I found out something about Dana's past that, quite frankly, have come as a shock.'

  Walter leaned closer. 'What?'

  Gus shook his head. 'I'm sorry, I can't tell you that.'

  'Did you tell her?'

  'No. I gave her several opportunities to tell me but she said nothing.'

  'Why didn't you just come straight out and ask her?' Walter asked.

  'Maybe I should have,' Gus admitted. 'But to be honest I was angry. How could she keep this from me? We've been together more than six years and she's never said a word.'

  'Well, you said it's from her past.' Walter shrugged. 'We all have skeletons that we like to keep in the cupboard.'

  Gus said nothing for a moment and then he looked up and met Walter's eyes. 'Not all of it was in her past.'

  Walter sighed impatiently. 'I understand your reluctance to talk about what are, obviously, very private matters, Gus, but I don't see how we can have a two-way conversation if I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about.'

  'Okay, okay.' Gus drained his glass and set it back on the table between them. 'Did you know that Dana had a child?'

  Walter's eyes widened. 'No, that's impossible.'

  'It's true. I've read a letter that Dana wrote to him. There's absolutely no doubt it was to her son.'

  'I can't believe it,' Walter said faintly.

  'It's true,' Gus said grimly and then signalled the passing waiter to bring them both refills. 'I thought you might have known about it.'

  'I didn't, honestly.'

  'I believe you. In a way I suppose it would have annoyed me more if she had told you and not me. But, like I said, you knew her for, what, thirteen years or more before I came along?'

  Walter nodded. 'But there was never any mention of a child.'

  'Maybe he lived with her parents.'

  Walter shrugged. 'It's possible, I suppose. I only ever met Dana in Dublin and rarely at her flat, and she hardly ever talked about her family.'

  'She must have said something,' Gus pressed.

  Walter smiled at the young waiter who'd brought their drinks and then sank back in his chair. 'The very first time I met her she told me she wanted to write under the name De Lacey. I didn't really question her decision; O'Carroll was quite an ordinary name and Dana De Lacey sounded more glamorous and would look better on a front cover.'

  'So she never even told you who her father was?' Gus said incredulously.

  'No. I only found out when her first contract with Peyton Publishing was announced. One of the Irish papers picked up on the fact that she was Irish and made the connection. I was a bit annoyed at first, to be honest. I might have been able to use it when I was negotiating the advance or, at the very least, used it to publicize her debut in the States. If there's one thing Americans love it's Irish literary figures.'

  'So you confronted her?'

  'I asked her about it and she just said that she was estranged from her father and had no wish to ever have her name linked with his.'

  'There's no way she could have prevented that.'

  'No and when this book is published in Ireland, it will probably get worse.'

  'Did you tell her that?' Gus asked.

  'I tried, but you know what she's like. She just clams up any time I mention the man.'

  'And Gretta is definitely going to use The Mile High Club to launch the Passion imprint?'

  'She'd be mad not to. Your wife is talented, beautiful and she'll be an excellent ambassador for the brand.' He sighed. 'And now, it seems, she has a few skeletons in the cupboard. She's a chat-show host's dream.'

  Gus was silent for a moment, staring moodily into his drink.

  'Do you know when she had this child or have any idea what age he is?'

  Gus shook his head. 'You've known her for twenty years, so I suppose he's more than that.'

  'She probably got into trouble when she was a schoolgirl, poor kid. Daddy wouldn't have been too pleased with that; it's probably why she left.'

  'Did you know Dana when her mother died?' Gus asked.

  Walter screwed up his face as he tried to remember. 'No,' he said at last. 'We had talked on the phone a few times but her mother died before I had secured the Peyton contract.'

  'So you weren't at the funeral,' Gus said, deflated.

  'Had it happened a few months later, no doubt I would have been. Sorry, I'm not much help, am I? What will you do now?'

  'Forget about it and her,' Gus said grimly, taking a long drink. 'And get on with my life.'

  'Why don't you just talk to Dana?'

  'I've been trying to talk to her for months,' Gus snapped. 'No, make that years.'

  Walter looked at him thoughtfully. 'Then maybe you should talk to her brother.'

  Gus lowered his glass and stared at the agent. 'Ed? I wouldn't even know where to find him.'

  Walter's eyes twinkled. 'Now that I can tell you. He lives in their family home in Wexford.'

  Ian Wilson sat in his office looking at the long list of calls and emails he had to return. He should get stuck in but he couldn't get Dana De Lacey out of his head — or her beautiful, blonde assistant, for that matter. Walter Grimes was nagging him to organize some publicity for the author but it was next to impossible while the woman remained holed up in her room. He'd thought the night she'd gone to Lobo with Sylvie had marked the end of her reclusion but it seemed the woman was now worse than ever.

  He picked up the phone and called Sylvie, hoping for some news. Even if there wasn't, it would be nice to hear her voice.

  'Hello?'

  'Hello, Sylvie. It's Ian Wilson.'

  'Oh, hi, Ian.'

  From the despondent tone of Sylvie's voice, it was clear that things hadn't improved. He could imagine her sitting at her desk, full lips pouting as she brushed her fringe out of her troubled blue eyes and stretched those long, lovely legs in front of her. He sighed.

  'Ian?'

  'Oh, sorry, Sylvie. I was just wondering if Dana was available for a quick chat.'

  Sylvie gave a short laugh. 'No, sorry, she's not.'

  'Tell me, is it just me she won't talk to or is she like this with everyone?'

  'Don't take it personally, it's everyone,
and I'm the one who has to deal with the fallout.'

  'Poor you,' he said sympathetically. "So I take it there's no sign of her and the husband getting back together.'

  'He's the one person who hasn't called,' Sylvie confided.

  'Is she writing at all?'

  'Are you kidding?'

  Ian closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. 'That's not good.'

  'Tell me about it.'

  'Perhaps if you and I put our heads together we could think of some way of getting her out of this rut. We could meet up later and discuss it over a drink.'

  'If this is your roundabout way of asking me out, Ian Wilson, you can forget it.'

  He laughed. 'Oh, well, it was worth a try.'

  'Goodbye, Ian.'

  She might have turned him down but he could hear the smile in her voice. He'd wear her down. It was only a matter of time. 'Bye, gorgeous.'

  Sylvie hummed to herself as she took the bus home later that day. There was no reason for her good humour. Her day had been as boring as all the others lately and Dana's house was not a pleasant place to work at the moment, given it was as silent as the grave. The only highlight had been the call from Ian Wilson. He was a cocky, big-headed guy but at the same time he made her smile and he was quite attractive in an obvious, all-American sort of way. Pity he was broke. Not that you'd know that from the way he went on, but his car gave him away. Ian wasn't the successful businessman he presented himself as.

  'Hi, Mum, I'm home,' she called as she put the key in the door and let herself into the modest but pretty little house in Ringsend.

  'Hello, love, I'm in here.'

  Sylvie followed the voice and found her mother in the kitchen, ironing and watching Richard and Judy.

  'You're just in time for the book club slot,' her mother told her with a smile.

  'How's Dad?' Sylvie asked as she threw her jacket on the back of a chair and put on the kettle.

  'Not bad at all today. Dana?'

  Sylvie rolled her eyes. 'The same.'

  'The poor girl.'

  'I'm sorry but I'm finding it harder and harder to be sympathetic.'

  'That's a bit hard, love,' Maureen Parker said, one eye on the television. 'It can't be easy for her.'