Chapter 25

It's been a long, frustrating day and what I'd really like to do is go home and put my feet up. But Charles texted earlier asking if I was going to drop over to Terenure and I said I might. I should really ask him to come to me instead, but Riverside Lodge is my future home and I want to spend time there with him. I also want to bring up the subject of redecorating. It's very elegant, but I have some modernising ideas of my own. So when I've finally finished at the docks (all routine checks, none of them turning up anything illegal, although one of the drivers was really mouthy and nasty to me, which normally I shrug off but which got to me today), I message Charles to say I'll be with him a bit later, then scoot home to have a quick shower and change into a pair of jeans and my favourite jumper, a soft cashmere in deep purple that brings out the brown of my eyes.

I've timed it so that I can walk to the Malahide Road and catch the cross-city bus that stops about five minutes away from Charles's house. When I arrive, I see that the hall chandelier is glowing gently through the fanlight over the door. I press the old-fashioned enamel bell in a brass setting and hear the loud buzz echo along the hallway. It takes a minute before Charles opens the door. As always when I see him, I catch my breath at how damn good-looking he is. Even in what he laughingly refers to his ‘lounging around' casual trousers and zipped top, he looks urbane and sophisticated.

‘Hello, darling.' He pulls me close and kisses me. ‘I've missed you. And I'm sorry for dragging you across town,' he adds as I follow him to the living room, ‘but I was working like crazy all day.'

I'm about to say I was working like crazy too, but then I see he's not alone. And I recognise the woman who's sitting on the sofa as his agent-slash-not-quite-as-ex-as-I-thought.

She's tall and lithe and confident as she stands up and greets me, reminding me of who she is, as if I could forget. Her copper hair gleams in the light thrown by the standard lamp and her make-up is impeccable. She's wearing a black top and a short tartan skirt that shows off legs encased in patterned black tights. Her shoes are Louboutin – the red soles go with the red in the skirt. She's still wearing the multicoloured ring, although there's no jewellery on her right hand today. I tuck my hair behind my ears simply so that my own ring flashes in the light.

‘Nice to meet you again,' I say, even as I glance at Charles and raise my eyebrows to signal my uncertainty at her being here.

‘The pleasure is all mine.' Her voice is confident and a little husky.

‘We're having book talk,' says Charles. ‘Those bloody edits! I told her you'd be good at looking over them, given that you were such an inspiration in the Caribbean. Wine?' He holds up a half-empty bottle of red, and even though it's not my favourite, I nod.

Ariel sinks back onto the sofa and Charles sits beside her. I suppose that's where they were seated before I arrived, but I'm irked at being the one in the high-backed armchair while they relax together.

‘So how was your day?' asks Charles.

I say it was one of our more routine days, with too much form-filling and one particularly rude driver, and he sympathises.

‘It must be a very interesting job,' says Ariel in a tone that implies the complete opposite.

‘It usually is,' I tell her.

‘A bit of a nuisance for you to come here from the port.'

‘I came from home,' I say. ‘It's the same bus, just a longer walk.'

‘You got the bus?' She sounds shocked.

‘What else?'

‘A cab. An Uber.'

‘The bus is just as quick,' I say, even though I reckon a cab would take half the time. But I'm not splashing out for taxis when I don't need to.

She says nothing and takes a sip from her glass. Her eyes, a dark hazel, are looking at me speculatively. I feel like she's assessing me, seeing if I'm a suitable partner for Charles. I also feel like she's finding me wanting.

My throat is suddenly dry, and I take a rather larger mouthful of wine than I intended, which leaves me coughing uncontrollably. Charles gets up and puts his arm around me, but Ariel stays where she is, quietly watching me with those appraising eyes.

‘You OK?' he asks, when my coughing fit subsides.

‘Fine.' I clear my throat. ‘Sorry.'

‘That Merlot should be savoured,' says Ariel. ‘It's an excellent vintage.'

‘I was savouring it,' I say. ‘A bit too much, obviously.'

‘Maybe you're more of a cocktail girl.' Charles grins. ‘Never saw you having a problem at the White Sands.'

‘I don't have a problem with alcohol generally,' I say. ‘Neither swallowing it nor drinking too much of it.'

‘Hmm.' He grins again at that. ‘I seem to remember one or two mornings when you were less than bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.'

‘I was fine every morning.' My words are sharper than I intended, and he looks startled. Ariel, on the other hand, smiles.

‘So tell me more about yourself.' She leans her head to one side and looks at me enquiringly. ‘Charles has been very sparse with the details, except for crediting you with turning him into a crime fiction author.'

‘I didn't. He decided on that himself.'

‘You recommended Janice Jermyn to him. He'd never have listened to me if I'd done that. She's one of my authors, you know,' she adds. ‘I'll get you a signed copy of The Mystery of the Missing Mallet if you like.'

‘Would you?' I'm taken aback by her offer. Charles never returned my Missing Mallet copy to me. ‘I have a signed copy of The Mystery of the Drowning Fish, but I'd love one of the Missing Mallet.'

‘Ah, the Drowning Fish.' She looks pleased. ‘Six weeks at the top of the bestseller list.'

‘Really?' Charles looks at her in surprise.

‘Yes,' says Ariel. ‘Apple TV is interested too.'

‘Seriously?' This time his voice is tight. He told me before that Ariel was working on a streaming deal for him.

‘We're in conversation with them,' she says. ‘I shouldn't have said anything, though. It's not signed, sealed and delivered yet.'

‘Who'll play Claude?' I ask. ‘He's such a great character.'

‘Probably a newcomer, but definitely someone handsome,' says Ariel.

‘Charles's detective is very handsome too.' I wink at him. ‘I can't wait to see him on the screen.'

‘Those kinds of deals take ages,' he says.

‘I'm sure Ariel is working really hard on your behalf,' I tell him, and then turn to her and thank her for the offer of the signed Janice Jermyn.

‘My pleasure,' she says. ‘So, Iseult, what d'you think of Charles's effort? Really? Between ourselves.'

‘I think it's great. Good characters, good plot and perfect for TV.'

‘I like your loyalty,' she says.

‘It's definitely a great read. A bit . . . wordy,' I add, ‘but I think that'll suit his fans.'

‘You know what his fans want?' She gives me an amused look.

I shrug, and tell her that my cousin is the literary one in the family and she loves Charles's books, and that I know she'll love A Caribbean Calypso too.

‘She was at the party,' Charles says, looking at Ariel. ‘Do you remember her? Brunette, silver dress. Spent a lot of time talking to that bookseller . . . um . . . Darragh somebody or other.'

‘Mackey,' I supply.

‘Of course I remember her,' says Ariel, who looks a little surprised at me remembering the bookseller's name. I don't tell her that Celeste has been on two dates with him since New Year. She's quite smitten. Well, as smitten as Celeste ever gets. It's a long time since she's lost her heart to anyone.

‘Anyway, Iseult . . .' Ariel settles back in her chair and sips her wine. ‘Tell me all about you and Charles. It was such a big surprise.'

‘Nothing to tell,' I say. ‘We met, we fell in love, we're getting married. As soon as you guys get divorced,' I add. ‘Which from what he says won't be an issue as you have the papers all ready to go.'

She flinches at that, and I can't help smiling to myself at getting under her skin. And then I feel a spark of anxiety at the fact that she clearly cares.

‘Have you heard back yet?' Charles asks her.

‘No, but you know yourself what it's like over Christmas and New Year. I'll give Sheedy a buzz next week and tell her to move it onto the priority list.'

‘Good,' I say. ‘Because getting married is on mine.'

Charles laughs. Ariel smiles, but it's a tight smile.

‘I'm happy for you,' she says to him. ‘Truly. And I think you and Iseult make a lovely couple.'

‘Izzy,' I say. ‘Everyone calls me Izzy. Except Charles, because he can't help being pompous.'

There's a sudden glimmer of amusement in Ariel's eyes, but it disappears quickly.

‘I meant to say to you, Charles, that Graham is considering a slightly earlier publishing slot if you get the edits back in time.' Her tone is suddenly brisk and businesslike.

‘This is a completely different process and I want to get it right,' he tells her. ‘Izzy says that the worst thing in mysteries is the author taking the reader for granted. I don't want to do that.'

‘You're not,' I assure him.

‘Thanks.' He smiles at me, then opens another bottle of red and refills my glass. I didn't realise it was empty.

‘I'm delighted you're having such a good influence on him,' says Ariel. ‘It was so nice that you were able to take a break at the White Sands. It's lovely to get away to the sun in December.'

‘Yes.'

I can feel Charles watching me.

‘Izzy was due to get married there,' he says, emphasising the ‘Izzy' and smiling at me. ‘Thankfully, she didn't.'

‘You left your fiancé at the altar!' Ariel sounds both shocked and slightly impressed.

I'd like to let her think that's what happened, but I admit that we'd split up before then and I went to the resort with my cousin instead.

‘I might pass that plot line to Lucy, if you don't mind,' she says.

‘Lucy?'

‘Conway. She's my romance author. She's always looking for new ideas.'

‘I'm not sure,' I say. ‘There are plenty of couples who break it off.'

‘But not that many where the jilted bride-to-be jets off to the luxury resort where she was due to be married and gets engaged to a world-famous author there instead,' she returns.

‘Please don't let someone turn my life into a book,' I beg her.

‘If you're going to live with Charles, you'll learn that he turns everything into a book,' Ariel says. ‘Every little thing, no matter how trivial.'

‘No I don't.' Charles shoots her a dark look.

‘I'm giving her fair warning,' she tells him. ‘Your first book was based on your own failed romance. Your second on our early relationship, and the third—'

‘You wrote books about being with Ariel?' I interrupt her and stare at him.

‘Not at all,' says Charles.

‘Oh, come on.' Ariel shakes her head. ‘That scene with Emilia and Jonny in Sorrento—'

‘I brought them to a place we went to,' says Charles. ‘It's hardly describing our relationship.'

‘But afterwards—'

‘Stop,' he says. ‘I may occasionally use situations from real life, but they're always fictionalised in the books.'

I haven't read Snow in Summer. If it's about Charles and Ariel, I'll have to.

‘And then An Autumn Story,' she says. ‘A study of a marriage.'

‘A failing marriage.'

They seem to have forgotten I'm here. The conversation is entirely between the two of them.

‘And then you went to the Caribbean to write Springs Eternal,' she continues. ‘And of course there's an older man with an interest in his younger colleague, although when the book turns into A Caribbean Calypso she ends up murdered. In fact three of the female characters end up dead. Which might be saying something about all of us.'

I think of the plot and wonder if the first victim, Amanda, is based on Ariel. He describes her as a dark-haired, long-faced woman with hazel eyes and a superior look. When she was offed in the book, I wasn't at all surprised. She was a sarky, sniping sort of person, and I can't help feeling that Ariel is too. But then she turns to me and apologises for descending into stupid book talk and says that they always do that, which is probably why they split up in the first place, and that I must be getting a totally wrong impression of her. Then she gets up and retrieves her coat and says that she's heading home.

‘You're not driving!' Charles looks aghast.

‘No. I walked over here today. I'll get a cab.'

‘Fine.' He leans back on the sofa.

I'm still sitting in the armchair opposite.

‘I love your ring,' I say.

She glances at it, and then at me.

‘So do I,' she says. ‘It works as a statement piece, even though Charles and I are no longer together.' She looks at her phone. ‘I'd better go. It was a real pleasure to meet you again, Izzy, and I'm absolutely thrilled for you and Charles.'

She sounds so genuine and her smile is so wide that I believe her. I tell myself that I've been foolish and paranoid to think otherwise. Even if she's still wearing her unconventional wedding ring.

‘Charles, sweetheart, do please get those edits to me as soon as you possibly can, and don't get distracted by your wonderful fiancée. You are wonderful,' she adds, turning back to me. ‘You're exactly what he needs.'

Charles follows her out, and I hear the front door opening and then a quick murmur of voices before it closes again.

‘Sorry,' he says, coming back into the living room. ‘She sometimes calls to the house on a Friday evening to talk about my work in progress. We usually share a glass of wine. She stayed because she wanted to meet you properly. It was a bit fraught the last time.'

‘Indeed it was.'

I get up from the armchair and move to the sofa. He puts his arm around me.

‘She likes getting a rise out of people,' he says. ‘You stood up to her well.'

‘Did you really document your relationship in your books?' I ask.

‘People always read their own meanings into books,' he says.

‘I hope you're not documenting anything about us in A Caribbean Calypso.' I make a face at him. ‘Especially as you've cast me as a murderer.'

‘Only that appearances can be deceptive,' he says. ‘Which was the theme of Springs Eternal anyway.'

‘You're amazing.' I kiss him.

‘So are you.' He kisses me back.

And then we stop talking and start doing far more interesting things instead.

Later, when we're lying in bed together, I can't help returning to his relationship with Ariel. I can tell he's irritated by my questions, but I say that I need more than ‘we wanted different things' and that he might have been ‘a bit jealous'.

‘I thought she was having an affair,' he admits. He tells me about the author Cosmo Penhaligon, who I've never heard of, and Ariel's visits to him in Cornwall.

‘She was having an affair with him? Wow.'

‘She insisted she hadn't slept with him,' says Charles. ‘But later, after we'd argued about it, the two of them went to Canada for a festival. When she came back, I discovered a pair of his underpants in her laundry.'

‘Why on earth were you rummaging around in her laundry?' I ask.

‘I like doing the laundry.' His tone is defensive. ‘It relaxes me.'

‘If she knew you liked doing laundry – interesting info, by the way – then why on earth would she leave a pair of his underpants in there?' I ask.

‘Who knows.'

‘What did she say when you confronted her?'

‘I didn't,' he replies. ‘I shoved them in the bin.'

‘Maybe Cosmo put them in her stuff to cause trouble,' I suggest. ‘I can't believe she left them there on purpose.'

‘There was no need for him to do that,' says Charles. ‘He was having the time of his life with her anyway.'

‘If I was having an affair, I'd be very careful to cover my tracks,' I say. ‘I'd be especially wary of leaving stray undergarments lying around if I knew my husband liked doing the laundry!'

‘Oh, look, I accept entirely that there may have been some innocent explanation,' he admits. ‘Not that I'm convinced. But by that stage we'd gone past the point of no return. She was fed up with me, and I . . .' His voice trails off and he doesn't finish the sentence.

‘Did you still love her?' I ask.

‘I sometimes wonder if I ever did,' he replies. ‘I admired her hugely, and still do. We were a great couple. We were together all the time. I thought we should be in love, so I proposed.'

‘Right.' I lean my head on his chest and mull over what he's said. I can't help thinking it's a bit like me and Steve. I thought we should be in love too. I dropped a million hints about getting engaged before he actually proposed to me. Perhaps I pressured him into it. And his calling it all off was a lucky escape.

Charles's body moves beneath me, and I realise he's laughing.

‘What?' I ask.

‘The first thing I thought after I saw his feckin' jocks was that they were too small to be mine,' he says. ‘That and the fact that they were MS. I never buy MS underpants.'

‘You mean you were comparing size?' I start to laugh too.

‘It's a man thing,' he says.

‘Ooh – you could use it in your next murder mystery,' I suggest.

‘You're right.' He sits up, dragging the duvet with him. ‘My detective could wonder why there's a pair of Calvin Kleins in the drawer when the hero only wears Hugo Boss.'

‘Exactly!' I drag him back down to me.

‘You're giving me all my best ideas,' he murmurs as he kisses me.

‘I do hope I'm more than an ideas machine to you.'

‘You absolutely are,' he whispers. ‘You absolutely are.'

Charles brings me breakfast in bed the next morning, as I don't have to be at the port until the afternoon. As I munch on toast and marmalade, I ask him about his divorce settlement with Ariel.

‘I told you there's no issue with any of it.'

‘I know. What I meant was – this house? You both lived here and we're going to live here. But if you're not actually divorced yet . . . she's entitled to half, isn't she? Are you getting a loan to buy her out?'

He explains that they've already agreed all the financial details and that the only thing she gets is the mews at the back.

‘The mews?' It takes a moment, then I push the duvet back, get out of bed and stand naked at the window looking down over the garden. ‘That mews? I thought it was your office.'

‘You've been in my office. My study. Why would you think the mews was my office too?'

‘I just assumed . . . So that's why she was here last night. All she had to do was stroll up the garden path.'

‘Not why,' says Charles. ‘Like I said, she sometimes drops by to talk about stuff like the edits informally.'

‘It's not very . . . appropriate.'

‘Now you're being silly.'

‘Seriously, Charles.' I begin to get dressed. ‘She's your ex. It's bad enough that you have to work with her. And worse that you're still married to her and that she's wearing her wedding ring even if it is a unique piece of jewellery. But having her working in the garden and thinking she can pop by for a chat . . .'

‘She doesn't,' he says. ‘We got into the habit of doing it from time to time. I'll tell her not to.'

‘Can you move her out of the mews?'

‘No. It was part of the separation agreement. It'll be part of the divorce agreement too.'

‘For feck's sake. Is she going to be living in our ear day in day out?'

‘Honestly, you'll hardly ever see her.' He puts his arm around me. ‘Ariel is a good woman and she only has my best interests at heart. And seeing as you're part of my best interests, she'll take you to her heart too.'

He's so sincere, I almost believe he's right about her.

Almost.