He grinned into her face. ‘What if I got a job right here in the university?’
‘What job?’
He pressed his palms together as if praying and touched his bottom lip with his fingertips. ‘Lab technician. I’ve just been talking to my tutor and he says they’re looking for a replacement for Phil Lynch – he’s taking up a post in Edinburgh. They need someone to start after the summer and he thinks I would be ideal. He’s more or less offered me the job, Sarah. What do you think?’
‘Oh, Cahal,’ she said, clasping her hands together and crying with relief. ‘That’s wonderful.’
‘I’d get a decent starting salary. Enough for the two of us to live on. We could move in together.’
‘Oh.’ What would her father say to living in sin? And Aunt Vi?
‘Or,’ he added hastily, seeing her reaction, ‘we could get married. Whatever you want.’
‘Married?’ she said, her head filling immediately with images of her in a white dress and Cahal by her side in a penguin suit, both of them smiling, delirious with happiness.
‘Yes. And then we’d never have to be apart ever again.’
She threw her arms around him and pressed her face into his warm, damp neck. He smelled of cigarettes and last night’s curry. Her stomach churned with desire. ‘Oh let’s, Cahal. And then no one, and nothing, can ever come between us.’
Carnlough beach, at the foot of Glencloy and just twelve miles north of Ballyfergus, was bleak on this bright but bitter February day. Carved out of the landscape by a massive ice age glacier, the glen, framed on either side by gently rising hills, swept gracefully down to meet the beach like a vast, winter-faded green velvet skirt. On its northern hem, the buildings of Carnlough village, mostly hewn from local limestone, clustered like pearls. An icy wind blew down the valley from the west, chilling the four people walking on the shingle beach.
Sarah’s nose was red with the cold and spits of cruel rain speared her left cheek like painful darts. Sarah’s sister, Becky chatted away beside her and, up ahead, Sarah’s children – eleven-year-old Molly and nine-year-old Lewis – stumbled gracelessly along the coarse sand, hindered by ill-fitting wellies. Molly, blonde-haired and grey-eyed, was very like Sarah. Lewis, with short red hair standing up in spikes and brown freckles sprinkled liberally across his face like hundreds and thousands, was the spitting image of his Dad.
Not for the first time, she wondered idly what Lewis might have looked like had she married Cahal instead of Ian. He might’ve had dark curly hair instead of red, and blue-green eyes instead of pale, almost translucent, blue ones. And then, just as quickly as the thought came to mind, she pushed it crossly away, annoyed that she had allowed Cahal to occupy her thoughts even for a second. He had done the thing he promised never to do – he had left her. She would never forgive him. In the same way her father used to dampen down the coal fire every night with a layer of slack, she buried her curiosity under a layer of determination not to think of him again.
‘So,’ Becky was saying, ‘after watching me for ages at the bar, this guy comes over and starts chatting. He was a postgrad. Nice looking. A few years younger than me I’d say, but that didn’t seem to put him off.’
A sudden gust unwound Sarah’s navy and grey cashmere scarf and whipped it in her face. She secured it round her neck again. ‘What were you wearing?’
‘Oh, my grey dress.’
Sarah knew the one – slinky jersey with a v-neck as deep as the Grand Canyon and a skirt that stopped mid-thigh. Becky liked to wear it with black fishnets and killer heels. She had even been known to wear it to work, though with flat boots, thank God, not heels.
‘Anyway,’ Becky went on, ‘we had a few drinks. Well, more than a few drinks.’
Sarah glanced at Becky, taking in the bags under her eyes and her rather carelessly applied make-up. Was that last night’s make-up with a fresh layer slapped on top?
Becky grinned and dug her hands deeper into the pockets of her padded red duvet coat, which made her look big and plump compared to Sarah. But the figure underneath the coat was more curvaceous than fat and, while she was well-upholstered, it was in all the right places. ‘And he was so hot. You should’ve seen his pecs.’ She pursed both lips together and pulled a crude, lustful face in the manner of Dawn French.
‘It wasn’t his personality you were interested in then?’ said Sarah with a raised eyebrow.
Becky chuckled. ‘Well, let’s just say the rest of him wasn’t a disappointment.’
Sarah opened her mouth, but Becky didn’t wait for her to ask the question that was on the tip of her tongue. ‘He had a flat up near the university. We went there and I drove home this morning.’
Sarah stopped dead in her tracks. ‘Becky! You said you’d stop picking up strangers in bars and sleeping with them! He could’ve been an axe murderer for all you know.’
Becky wrinkled her nose and the crystal stud in her left nostril glinted like a dewdrop. ‘He wasn’t a stranger. Well, not really. I’d seen him in the uni café a few times and we spent all evening talking. I wouldn’t have gone home with him if I didn’t think he was sound.’
Sarah tutted and shook her head. She understood Becky’s desire to rebel against their strict upbringing – hadn’t she done it herself? – but this behaviour was positively reckless. Lowering her voice, Sarah said, ‘What if he had an STD or HIV?’
‘I’m not completely stupid, Sarah. We used a condom. Condoms, I should say,’ she added, and gave Sarah a saucy smile.
‘They’re not always safe,’ said Sarah sniffily, not that she knew much about the subject. Since the divorce from Ian eight years ago, she’d not had much need for contraception. She squinted into the wind. Eight years of celibacy. What a depressing thought.
‘Have you met anyone nice lately?’ said Becky, as if she could read Sarah’s thoughts.
Sarah gave her a weary look. ‘You know I haven’t.’
‘You’re never going to meet someone if you don’t get out on the dating scene,’ said Becky gently. ‘I’ll go out with you. We’ll hit Belfast together!’
Sarah bit her lip and kicked sand with the toe of her boot. ‘I know,’ she said quietly.
‘So what’s stopping you?’
Sarah shrugged and looked ahead. Lewis, oblivious to the cold and the sharp needles of rain, twirled his navy hat in his hand, his red head exposed to the elements. ‘The kids. Work. Running the home. Lack of time.’
Becky glanced at her sharply. ‘And the real reason is?’
Sarah took a deep breath and smiled wryly. Becky would not let her away so easily. But how could she possibly explain that the love she had known with Cahal had been so perfect, so all-encompassing that she knew she would never experience the like of it again? And even if it were possible to love another man like she had once loved him, she would not take the risk. His betrayal had hurt too much. ‘I’ve been so disappointed in love. I guess I’m scared to give it another chance.’
‘Oh, Sarah,’ said Becky. ‘It makes me so sad to hear you talk like that. But you and Ian have been divorced for a long time now. You must put all that behind you.’
Sarah looked away guiltily and failed to correct Becky’s assumption about Ian. ‘I’m really happy with my life. Honestly. A man isn’t the be-all and end-all. You mustn’t worry about me.’ She linked arms with Becky and said brightly, ‘So tell me, are you seeing this guy again?’
‘I doubt it. We didn’t swap numbers or anything.’
‘Didn’t