The Love of Her Life

by Kate McCabe

Genres: Marriage & Divorce; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Ellie McCoy has the life she always dreamed of. She is married to star journalist Joe, a man she adores. She has a great job in the financial industry, three marvellous children, and a beautiful home overlooking Dublin bay. But tragedy strikes when she arrives home one evening to be told that her husband has died suddenly at a hotel in London. When she then discovers that he may also have been having an affair, she feels as though she may never pick up the pieces of her broken life. Set between Dublin and the sun-drenched beaches of Marbella, The Love of Her Life is a heartfelt story of family life, learning to live again after bereavement and discovering that joy can be found where you least expect it.

Release date: March 3, 2016

Publisher: Hachette Ireland

Print pages: 336

Sample

Ellie McCoy often remarked that the most important events in her life had come in threes. There were her three siblings, her three children, her three boyfriends, the last of whom, Joe Plunkett, was the man she had married.

And then there were her three best friends: Caroline Drew, Fiona Bradshaw and Mags Bannon. They had met in a single week in the autumn of 1978, and had remained firm friends even though their careers had taken them in widely different directions. Occasionally they had arguments and disagreements but they had never fallen out. They had provided support for each other whenever problems arose, offering sisterly advice when romances went sour, children got sick or work was too much. And today their friendship was as strong as ever.

Ellie smiled whenever she thought back to that innocent time. She had just turned eighteen and had received the precious letter she had been waiting for since she’d finished her Leaving Cert exams way back in June. With trembling fingers she had torn it open and her heart had leaped: she had secured a place at university in Dublin to study economics. That day there had been great rejoicing in the McCoy household.

She was the first person in her family to go to college and everyone had been delighted for her, particularly her parents, who had told her what a privilege it was. University would open up her career prospects. And Dublin was such a lively, bustling city with lots of interesting people to meet. What a lucky girl she was.

Ellie enjoyed the excitement and the congratulations but as the time approached to leave home, she began to have doubts. She had grown into a pretty young woman, who stood five feet seven inches, with a slim figure and dark, shoulder-length hair. She had buckets of confidence. But she knew almost no one in Dublin.

There were a couple of distant cousins she hadn’t seen since her childhood, but she had no intention of contacting them. They had their own lives to live and, besides, Ellie wanted to be independent. But what if she was lonely? What if she didn’t make friends? What if she failed her exams and had to return home with her tail between her legs?

Finally the time came to leave. One bright morning in October she boarded the bus from the little town of Ballymount in the Irish midlands, torn between expectation and foreboding. Her family came with her to see her off: her mother and father, her two younger sisters, Aine and Ciara, and her brother Sean. In one pocket of her travel bag was the address of a landlady in Harold’s Cross, who had agreed to let her have a room and an evening meal for ten pounds a week. In another she had the letter from the university, telling her where and when to register.

She need not have worried. Her landlady, Mrs Bolger, turned out to be a plump, matronly woman, whose own daughter was working as a nurse in London. She immediately took Ellie under her wing and did her best to make her feel at home. And on her first day at university Ellie had another stroke of good fortune. As she joined the queue in the registrar’s office, she fell into conversation with a petite auburn-haired girl.

‘What are you studying?’ the girl asked, as the queue inched forward.

‘Economics,’ Ellie replied.

The other looked impressed. ‘You must be very bright to be accepted for that. It sounds terribly complicated to me.’

Ellie blushed. ‘Not really. I’m just good at maths. What are you doing?’

‘English literature. I expect it’ll be a doddle. It’s really just reading novels and poetry, writing essays and stuff.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ Ellie said. ‘I don’t think any university course could be described as a doddle. I reckon you’ll find they make you work quite hard.’

‘What’s your name?’ the auburn girl asked.

‘Ellie McCoy.’

‘I’m Margaret Bannon. My friends call me Mags.’

Ellie had already taken note of her accent. ‘You’re a Dubliner, aren’t you?’ she said.

‘That’s right. And you?’

‘I’m from Ballymount. It’s in County Offaly. I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of it.’

‘Of course I have,’ Mags retorted. ‘We studied geography at school, you know.’

They continued to chat till they reached the top of the line and Mags turned to Ellie. ‘Do you know many people here?’

Ellie shook her head. ‘You’re the first person I’ve met.’

‘Well, we’ll have to sort that. What are you doing after you register?’

‘I haven’t decided.’

‘I’m meeting a friend for coffee in the refectory. Why don’t you join us?’

‘I’d love to,’ Ellie replied, welcoming the opportunity to meet new people.

‘You know where it is?’

‘Yes.’

‘See you there, then. I’ll watch out for you.’

After she had registered, and had been given her timetable of tutorials and lectures, Ellie made her way to the refectory. It was crowded with students, all chatting animatedly in huddled groups, and it took Ellie some time to find Mags sitting at a corner table with a dark-haired girl in a flowing linen dress. As she approached, Mags drew out a chair for her and introduced them.

‘This is my friend Caroline Drew. We were at Holy Faith secondary school together.’

As she sat down, Ellie stole a glance at the new girl. She was wearing bright red lipstick and dark eyeshadow and had hooped earrings, like a gypsy fortune-teller. She looked very glamorous. ‘Are you doing English literature too?’ she asked.

Caroline raised her finely plucked eyebrows. ‘I’m studying drama, actually. I’m going to be an actress. I’m planning to go into films.’

Ellie stared at her in awe. She had never met an actress before, not to mention a potential film star. ‘Really? That sounds fantastic. I’ll bet there was a lot of competition to get on that course.’

Caroline tossed back her mane of raven hair. ‘It was way oversubscribed, and they turned down most of the applicants.’ She shrugged. ‘But I was lucky. I did a very good interview.’

‘Oh, come off it,’ Mags said, elbowing her friend in the ribs. ‘You don’t have to pretend. It had nothing to do with luck. You’re very good. That’s the reason you got the place.’

Caroline pulled a face. ‘If you say so.’

And they all laughed.

***

It was a couple of days before Ellie met her third friend. By now she was beginning to find her way round the university campus and had attended her first lecture. She was coming out of the library one afternoon when she was stopped by a tall, thin, studious-looking girl, with a pile of books under her arm. ‘I wonder if you can help me,’ she said, in a polite English accent. ‘I’m afraid I’m a bit lost. I’m looking for the students’ union building.’

By coincidence, Ellie had arranged to meet Caroline and Mags there. ‘That’s where I’m going. Why don’t you come with me?’

As they walked together, the girl introduced herself as Fiona Bradshaw and said she was studying medicine. By the time they arrived, Ellie had learned a lot about her. She was from London, had been educated at a private girls’ school in Twickenham, and her father and grandfather were doctors. She was renting her own flat in Blackrock.

Caroline and Mags were waiting for Ellie on the steps of the union building. She introduced Fiona and they chatted for a few minutes. As the little party was breaking up, Mags said, ‘We’re meeting at three o’clock in the refectory for coffee. You’re welcome to join us, if you like.’

‘That’s very kind,’ Fiona said, her face brightening. ‘I’d love to.’

It became a pattern. As the weeks passed, Ellie got to know more people. There were the students who attended her lectures and tutorials, and others she got to know in the library and at the clubs she had joined. But Caroline, Mags and Fiona were her closest friends. Before long they had formed a tight little circle and each day Ellie looked forward to three o’clock when they would meet in the refectory to chat. When December arrived and the university broke up for Christmas, she was surprised to find she was sorry to be leaving Dublin and going home to Ballymount.

***

The new term brought another development. One day as they were walking back from the library, Fiona said to her, ‘I’ve been thinking. I’ve got a whole flat to myself. It has a kitchen, bathroom and living room. And I’ve got a spare bedroom. Why don’t you come and share with me?’

‘The rent must be enormous,’ Ellie said regretfully. ‘I don’t think I could afford it.’

Fiona waved her hand. ‘You don’t have to worry about the rent. My dad takes care of that. He was so pleased I got a place in medical school that he’s happy to pay.’

‘So how would it work?’

‘We’d share the expenses. Things like food, heating, electricity. What do you pay in your digs?’

‘Ten pounds a week.’

‘That should easily cover it. It’s a lovely flat and Blackrock is a charming little town. It’s only twenty minutes on the bus from there to here. I’d really appreciate your company. Why don’t you come out and take a look at it?’

By now, Ellie had settled into Mrs Bolger’s digs and was quite happy there. Although her room was tiny, the food was good, the rent was reasonable and her landlady fussed over her as if she was a member of her own family. But there were also drawbacks: the house was quite small, and there were other lodgers coming and going so there was little peace for her to study. And although she had her own key, Mrs Bolger expected her to be tucked up in bed by midnight.

‘Okay,’ Ellie said. ‘I’ll come this afternoon.’

When her last lecture was over, she met Fiona and they travelled out to Blackrock. She stared from the bus window at the beautiful gardens flashing by, with manicured lawns and tall, majestic trees. When they reached their destination, Fiona led Ellie along several streets till they came to the seafront and a large Victorian house staring out at Dublin Bay. ‘Here we are,’ she said.

‘It’s very grand,’ Ellie said, looking up at the imposing building.

‘Let’s go inside and I’ll show you around.’

They walked up the steps to the front door. Fiona took a bunch of keys from her handbag and let them in. They entered a large hall with a wide staircase facing them.

‘The house has been divided into three flats,’ Fiona explained. ‘I’m at the top.’

They climbed the stairs to the top floor where Fiona selected another key and opened a door. They stepped into a room flooded with afternoon sunlight from a large bay window. Ellie was immediately struck by the scene before her. The room was furnished with a sofa and comfortable armchairs. A couple of impressionist prints adorned the walls. In a corner beside the windows, a pile of medical textbooks lay on a table.

‘This is the living room. It’s where I study. I find the view across the bay very calming – even when it’s raining, which it seems to do a lot of the time.’ Fiona laughed.

They left the living room and, in quick succession, Ellie was shown the bathroom, kitchen and Fiona’s bedroom. Finally, Fiona pushed open another door and they entered a smaller room with a single bed, chest of drawers and a built-in wardrobe. From the window, there was another view of the sea. The floor was covered with a soothing blue carpet while a print of Picasso’s Guernica stared down from the wall beside the bed. Compared with her cramped little room at Mrs Bolger’s, this was luxury, Ellie thought.

‘So, what do you think?’ Fiona asked.

‘I’m bowled over. It’s fantastic.’

Fiona smiled and led Ellie back to the kitchen where she produced a bottle of wine from the fridge and poured two glasses.

‘How much does this flat cost?’ Ellie asked, still coming to terms with what she had just seen.

‘I told you my father pays the rent but I believe it’s one hundred and fifty pounds a month.’

‘And you’re willing to let me live here for ten pounds a week?’

‘Because we’re friends. I said I’d appreciate some company. I’m a stranger to Dublin and it can get lonely here, particularly at weekends. So what do you say? Will you take it?’

‘Of course I will! I’m going to love living here.’

The following morning, Ellie told Mrs Bolger she would be leaving at the end of the week. She felt guilty because the landlady had been very good to her but Mrs Bolger didn’t seem surprised. ‘You’ve found a flat, haven’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Ellie admitted. ‘One of my friends has offered me a room. How did you know?’

The landlady laughed. ‘I’ve been in this business for twenty years and I’ve learned a thing or two about students. Most of them can’t wait to strike out on their own. It’s all part of growing up, I suppose.’

***

On Saturday morning, Ellie packed her bag, said goodbye to Mrs Bolger and set off for her new home in Blackrock. It was midday when she arrived and Fiona was waiting to let her in and help her unpack. When they had finished, she suggested they go out for lunch. ‘It’s a sort of celebration, the start of a new chapter, if you like. I’ve a funny feeling we’re going to have a ball.’

Of course, once Caroline and Mags heard the news, they were envious and wanted to move in too. They thought it was the height of sophistication to be living in your own flat away from the watchful eyes of your parents. But there were no more spare rooms and, besides, their parents could see no good reason why they should subsidise a bohemian lifestyle in some student flat, particularly as they were already shelling out for college fees. But Caroline and Mags often stayed over at weekends, sharing a sofa bed in the living room.

Fiona’s prophecy proved true. They did have a ball. The parties they threw, the handsome men, the love affairs that began and ended in that flat in Cumberland Terrace, Blackrock, became the stuff of university folklore.

And as time went by, Ellie’s early fear of failing her exams and going back to Ballymount in disgrace proved unfounded. She was a good student, with an aptitude for economics, and easily passed each test that was set for her. She had settled down in Dublin and loved the excitement of university life and the buzz of the city. Only one thing troubled her: so far, she had failed to find a suitable man.

Her first boyfriend was a young history student, called Henry Boylan, whom she met in the college library soon after she’d moved in with Fiona. He invited her to have coffee, then asked her out on a date.

Henry was tall and very handsome. He was a snappy dresser and had wonderful manners. He also had his own car, which was a novelty among students at that time, a second-hand Mazda hatchback. He was an only child and lived with his widowed mother in a large, red-brick house in Glenageary.

On their first date he took her to see a movie at the Carlton cinema in O’Connell Street. He bought her a box of expensive chocolates and held her hand. Afterwards he drove her back to Blackrock, and as she got out of the car, he delivered a warm, lingering kiss to her lips. Ellie thought it was all very romantic.

Soon they were going out every weekend and spending their evenings studying together in the college library. Before long, she was convinced she was in love. All her friends told her how jealous they were. Henry Boylan was a hunk. She was so lucky to have hooked him. Ellie floated around the campus on a pink cloud.

But, slowly, the dream began to dissolve. As she got to know him better, she realised that Henry had one big flaw. He was riddled with indecision. He couldn’t make up his mind and was constantly asking her opinion on even the simplest things, like what tie he should wear. At first, she thought this was just politeness on his part, but eventually she realised that his good manners masked a distinct lack of self-confidence.

Ellie had always wanted a man she could look up to and respect, someone with firm opinions and a mind of his own. The magic between them began to evaporate.

Eventually he took her home one evening to meet his stern-faced mother, who interrogated her for an hour in the living room and never once smiled. Ellie felt she was on trial for the crime of going out with the woman’s son. It was the last straw. How could she have any respect for a man who couldn’t even choose a girlfriend without his mother’s approval?

She met Charlie Timmons just after she had graduated. They had been introduced by one of Fiona’s friends. By now, she had secured her first job as an economic researcher for a small firm of stockbrokers called Lombard and Brady, with offices in the city centre. Charlie was a trainee solicitor at a big Dublin law practice.

He wasn’t as tall as Henry Boylan or as handsome but he didn’t lack self-esteem. Indeed, Ellie discovered that he had an extremely high opinion of his own importance. At the beginning, Charlie was very attentive. He bought her flowers and presents, rang every day to ask how she was, remembered her birthday and held out her chair for her whenever they went to a restaurant. It wasn’t till several months had passed that Ellie realised she was going out with a control freak who was so self-willed that it bordered on egomania.

Soon Charlie was insisting on having his own way in everything, and sulking if she objected. For the sake of peace, she put up with it as he dragged her all over Dublin to dinner parties with his lawyer friends and their snobbish spouses. But it grated on her. Why did she have to be the one who made all the compromises? Why couldn’t Charlie occasionally do what she wanted?

She made up her mind to confront him. They were having dinner one evening in a smart Italian restaurant at the back of Trinity College. Charlie had chosen it and had even suggested what she should eat. As they were tucking into their veal scaloppini, Ellie said, ‘Charlie, you and I have got to talk.’

He wiped some sauce from his chin with his napkin. ‘What about?’

‘Us.’

He grinned. ‘What’s to talk about? I think we’re very well suited, don’t you? I’m very fond of you, Ellie.’

‘You’ve got to change.’

Now he laughed. ‘Change? Me?’

‘Yes. I’m fed up with the way you make all the decisions in this relationship. You never consult me. You never ask what I want. It’s always your way. That sort of behaviour doesn’t show much consideration for me.’

He waved his hand. ‘You’re imagining things, Ellie.’

‘Am I? Would you like me to give you some examples? I can give you half a dozen straight off the top of my head.’

The smile was replaced with a scowl. ‘Keep your voice down. People can hear us.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘I didn’t know you felt like this,’ he growled. ‘It’s just that somebody has to make the decisions. It’s easier if it’s me.’

‘And why is that?’

‘Because I’m a man and men are natural leaders.’

Ellie felt as if she was going to explode. ‘That’s utter nonsense. You treat me as if I had no mind of my own. Why do you go out with me?’

‘I like you. I enjoy your company.’

‘You’re behaving as if I was just something you carry around with you, like your briefcase. You don’t treat me as a real human being. I’m fed up with it, Charlie.’

‘A briefcase? What do you mean?’

‘I mean you don’t respect me.’

By now, several heads had turned in their direction.

‘Okay, okay, calm down.’ Charlie wiped his mouth again. ‘I hear what you’re saying. I’m listening.’

‘You’d better be,’ she said.

Within weeks, he had slipped back into his bad old ways and Ellie knew that Charlie was never going to change. The crisis broke one evening at a dinner party in Foxrock hosted by one of Charlie’s senior legal colleagues. Ellie was practically ignored once the rest of the group heard she was a mere economic researcher and came from a hick town called Ballymount.

She endured it till the dessert course was served, when she shocked them all by standing up and announcing that she was going home. She would always remember their stunned faces as she walked to the hall, put on her coat and went out into the night in search of a cab. When Charlie had the nerve to ring the next morning to demand an apology, she told him to get lost and put the phone down.

There followed a period when Ellie found herself sinking into despair. She began to doubt if she was ever going to meet the right man. She’d had two unsatisfactory experiences but her friends kept telling her that was just the luck of the draw. She had to keep trying and the right guy would turn up eventually.

Sometimes she wondered if this was true. Was there really a Mr Right out there for every woman who wanted one? And would it be such a big deal if she never found him? She wanted someone loving and caring, someone with a bit of dash and verve, someone who knew his own mind but wasn’t so self-centred that he turned into a monster, like Charlie Timmons.

She wanted someone she could respect and admire, a man with principles and standards, someone she could rely on. She wanted a man with a sense of humour, who would bring a bit of excitement and drama into her life. He didn’t have to be startlingly handsome but he did have to be someone she could trust. She knew it was a tall order.

And what would she do if he didn’t come along? Well, she would just get on with her life. There were plenty of women who didn’t have men – she could think of dozens. And they all seemed happy with their lot. Her father’s sister, Aunt Bridie, was a perfect example. She’d never married and never had children yet she had led a full and contented life. For fifteen years she had managed the local credit union in Ballymount, with a staff of eight assistants, and had made a big success of it.

She reminded herself that she had a good job and could look forward to a successful career. She would be quite capable of looking after herself. And, of course, she would always have her wonderful friends. If she didn’t meet Mr Right, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

And then she ran into Joe Plunkett and everything changed.

When Ellie first set eyes on Joe, he was a dashing twenty-seven-year-old reporter, whose career seemed destined for stardom. Despite his age, he was already head and shoulders above his colleagues. His reports were regularly splashed across the front page of the Gazette, Ireland’s leading tabloid newspaper. And he was in constant demand from radio and television stations to provide background analysis of breaking stories and current affairs.

People said that Joe had his finger on the pulse of the nation. He ap. . .