It's All About Him

by Colette Caddle

  Sam shrugged off his pyjama bottoms and bent to scratch his ankles. Immediately Dee was on alert. 'What's wrong, sweetheart?'

  'Dunno.'

  Sam continued to attack his ankles and feet and Dee watched in alarm as the area grew red and the skin started to flake. 'Please try not to scratch, Sam,' she begged, hurrying out to the bathroom for the steroid cream. 'You said that you and Julia went for a walk after church yesterday, where did you go?' she asked as she applied the cream.

  Sam didn't look at her. 'Just around.'

  Dee shot him a look. 'Where around?'

  'On the beach.'

  Dee frowned. There was nothing on the beach that should cause him any problems, unless . . . 'Did you pet any dogs?'

  'Of course not, Mum.' He looked at her reproachfully.

  Dee smiled apologetically. Sam knew to his cost not to touch dogs and anyway, if he had, the rash would have been almost instant and it certainly wouldn't have been on his ankles. 'Did you do anything different?' she asked.

  Sam reddened and kept his head down.

  'It's okay, darling, you're not in trouble, just tell me.'

  'I was messing down at the rock pools with a twig, pretending I was fishing.'

  'Go on.'

  He looked up at her guiltily. 'I fell in and my shoes and socks got all wet and dirty. But Julia said not to worry about it and that she'd clean me up and she did.' He beamed at her before reaching down to scratch between his toes.

  Dee realized the rash stopped at his ankles. 'I see, and did Julia wash your socks in the washing machine?'

  Sam nodded, smiling. 'Yes, she said it was no trouble, she was just putting on a wash anyway. She's very nice, Mum.'

  'Yes, she is.' Dee sighed. 'Let's leave off your socks and shoes for a while until the cream starts to work. Do you want to go down to the crèche or stay with me?'

  'Crèche,' Sam said without hesitation, 'we're making hedgehogs today.'

  She bent to hug him. 'Okay then, off you go but come back to me if the rash gets worse.'

  It had been nice of Julia to take Sam out and, indeed, she had probably meant well in trying to clean him up. It was just a pity that she hadn't hand-washed the socks in plain water for Dee had no doubt that her son's rash was down to the washing powder Julia had used. But then why would that even occur to the woman? She wouldn't have any idea of the simple things that could trigger Sam's allergies. Thankfully it wasn't too severe but she should really ask Conor to have a tactful word with his mother so that she didn't make the same mistake again.

  It was so hard to protect Sam from everything, Dee thought as she searched under the bed for the offending socks. The only way to do it successfully was to forbid Sam to go out with anyone other than herself and that would be as cruel as it would be unfeasible.

  And what if Neil came back into her life? Would he want regular access? Would he expect Sam to spend weekends with him, maybe even take him to Spain? She shivered, horrified at the thought of having to share her son. It had always been just the two of them and she wasn't sure she wanted that to change. She shook off her thoughts, gathered up the rest of the washing and went downstairs. The aroma of Irish stew hit her when she walked into the kitchen and, glancing at the clock, she realized it would be ready in thirty minutes. She would take it straight over to Better Books for lunch, collect her other Tupperware containers and also get Ronan's order for next week.

  Dee made deliveries on almost a daily basis but, by Ronan putting in the order just once a week, she was able to organize her time to suit both her duties to the crèche and the café. She put on the washing, tasted the stew – it was excellent – and then turned her attention to the post which Martha had thrown on the kitchen table. As usual there were a number of brown envelopes and Dee steeled herself to open them. She'd much prefer to stick them in a drawer but that would be stupid, childish and irresponsible. Thankfully, there was nothing too scary today and once she'd sorted through them, she tidied the kitchen and went through to the crèche to check on Sam. He was busy painting his potato that would become Harry the Hedgehog before the day was out, stopping every so often to compare his efforts with Tom's.

  Lisa looked up and smiled when she saw her. 'Hi, how are you?'

  'Fine, just off to Better Books, but I wanted to check on Sam first.'

  'I'm keeping his hands busy so he can't really scratch,' Lisa said with a grin, 'but he hasn't been complaining too much.'

  Dee went over to her son and crouched down beside him.

  'Do you like it, Mum?' He stuck the potato covered in orange paint into her face.

  'Lovely,' she laughed. 'Just swivel around for a minute, sweetheart, and let me check your feet.'

  Sam obediently swung around and stuck his feet out. They were still red but the angry blotchiness was already fading.

  'Okay, Sam, we'll put on more cream at lunchtime and then you can put your socks and shoes back on.'

  'But Mum, we're going out to the garden before lunch,' Sam protested, his lip trembling.

  'Not today,' Lisa said quickly before the tears could start. 'We're going to have skipping in the hall and we'll go out to the garden this afternoon.'

  Dee smiled gratefully before turning back to her son. 'So, I'll see you later.'

  'Bye, Mum.'

  Dee grinned as he rubbed away her kiss leaving a smudge of orange paint in its wake. 'Charming! Just as well he's not allergic to that stuff, isn't it?'

  'They can even drink it – and they do – and it won't harm them,' Lisa assured her.

  'See you later.' Dee waved at the children, who chorused 'Bye-bye, Dee', and then she went into the kitchen to fetch the stew.

  'You shouldn't be carrying that.' Vi Valentine was sitting over a coffee and sketchbook when Dee struggled through the door with the vat of food, beads of sweat standing out on her forehead. 'Ronan!'

  'Yes?' Ronan walked in and quickly went to relieve Dee of her burden. 'Smells gorgeous,' he said, taking it in behind the counter and putting it carefully on the hob.

  'Just keep it on a low heat,' Dee instructed Zoe, 'and it should be perfect through lunch.'

  'Great, thanks.' Zoe put on the gas and gave the stew a quick stir. 'It's a bit nippy today so I'd say it will be gone in no time.'

  'Have you any soup left?' Dee asked, climbing on to a stool as Ronan poured her a mug of tea. 'Thanks.'

  'Yes, there are about ten portions of tomato soup left and about a dozen of the mushroom.'

  Ronan pulled out a notebook and pen, poured himself a coffee and sat down beside Dee. 'Keep an eye on the shop, will you, Zoe?'

  'Sure.'

  Zoe left them and Dee looked around at the few occupants of the café. There was one middle-aged man nursing a coffee and doing a crossword; a couple of young women with babies in buggies having a chat over a cake and a cuppa; and Vi, sketching away in her corner, oblivious to everyone. 'It's a bit quiet in here today, isn't it?'

  'Monday.' Ronan shrugged, 'Lunchtime will be busier.' He grinned at her. 'Don't worry, business is very good, I'm not going to reduce the order.'

  Dee smiled. 'Good.'

  'In fact, I may have to increase it.'

  Dee flushed with pleasure but at the same time she wondered how she would cope. They discussed menus for the following week, increasing quantities of hot food for the Friday and the Sunday – Ronan had told her that since that article in the paper they were much busier on Sundays – and discussing new possibilities.

  'I'd like us to serve more vegetables, you know, a choice of potatoes and some other options, but not the usual boring carrots and broccoli.'

  Dee frowned. 'Mash, baked or boiled potatoes are the only real options in an operation like this.' She already supplied the mash and baked potatoes on alternate days and adding boiled potatoes wouldn't be too much extra work. 'Then you could have ratatouille with the fish pie or chicken stroganoff and a purée of carrot and parsnip with the heavier dishes.'

  Ronan beamed at her. 'That's exactly
the kind of thing I'm talking about.'

  'Okay, good. Let me have a think about it and I'll come back to you with some other options.'

  'You're sure it won't be too much for you?' Ronan said. 'You look a bit tired today.'

  'I'm fine,' Dee said, draining her mug and standing up. Ronan was studying her, his eyes dark with concern, and Dee wondered for a moment if Conor had told him about Neil. 'I'm just still reeling from my night out with the girls.'

  He chuckled. 'That was two days ago. Where's your stamina woman!'

  'I know, I'm past it,' she admitted, laughing. 'Right, Ronan, I'll get back to you in a couple of days about this.'

  'That's grand, love, thank you.'

  'Hey, stranger,' Vi called as she saw Dee heading for the door, 'aren't you going to say hello?'

  Dee crossed the room and bent to kiss the powdered cheek. 'You looked so immersed in your work I didn't like to disturb you.'

  Vi tossed her pad aside. 'This rubbish?'

  Dee rescued the pad and flicked through it. 'Rubbish? I don't think so!' She marvelled at the line drawings of some of Better Books' customers, a wonderful depiction of the food display and a profile head and shoulders of the proprietor. 'You've really captured him,' she enthused, 'you should do portraits more often.'

  'Not really my bag, although' – she studied Dee – 'I wouldn't mind painting you.'

  Dee rolled her eyes. 'That would be a waste of paint. If you're looking for a model, you've got one right over there.' Dee inclined her head as the lovely Zoe walked past.

  'She's a stunner,' Vi agreed, 'but I'm interested in inner beauty too.'

  Dee grinned. 'Is that your way of telling me I'm ugly?'

  'Stop fishing for compliments,' Vi patted Dee's hand, 'you know you're gorgeous outside and in.'

  'Stop, you're making me blush.'

  'So will you?'

  'What?'

  'Will you pose for me?'

  'Oh, Vi, it's really not my thing—'

  'You would be doing me a huge favour,' Vi pleaded. 'I could come and study you while you worked.'

  'I don't think so—'

  'You wouldn't even know I was there.'

  'Ah, Vi—'

  'And in exchange, I'd do a portrait of young Sam,' Vi said with a triumphant grin.

  Dee paused. A portrait of Sam would be something she would treasure, especially if it was painted by someone as talented as Vi. 'Go on, then.'

  'Wonderful. I've a lot to do this week but I'll come over next Monday about ten.'

  'Monday?'

  'Is that a problem?' Vi challenged.

  Dee sighed and shook her head, smiling. 'No, Vi, no problem.'

  Dee felt stressed. Neil had come back into her life and was waiting for her to call him; Ronan was putting her tinder pressure to produce more dishes and although it would increase her bank balance she wasn't at all sure she could cope; she still hadn't had that chat with Lisa about increasing the rent and she wasn't sure she'd ever work up the courage to do it and now, to cap it all, Vi Valentine was going to become a semi-permanent fixture in her kitchen drawing her 'inner beauty' or more accurately her inner panic.

  Dee had seen the keen observation in Vi's work and was afraid of it. There was so much going on in her head right now and the last thing she needed or wanted was to have that exposed; it would be worse than posing nude.

  'I didn't know you were back.' Lisa breezed into the kitchen making Dee jump. 'Is everything okay?' she added when she saw Dee's sombre expression.

  'Yeah, fine. How's Sam?'

  'Not a bother on him, but I put some more cream on his feet just in case.'

  'Oh!'

  'Sorry, shouldn't I have? I thought you said that's what you were going to do and it's just when you didn't get back by lunchtime—'

  'No, that's fine, thanks. Sorry, I'm just a bit distracted. I completely forgot about the cream.'

  'Neil?'

  'Among other things.'

  'Did you tell Conor?'

  Dee nodded.

  'How did he take it?'

  'He's worried for me and for Sam.'

  Lisa filled plastic beakers with filtered water and put the lids on. 'So have you decided what you're going to do?'

  Dee shook her head, went to the pantry and took out flour, baking soda and butter. She would make bread; that usually calmed her when she was feeling flustered or anxious.

  'What about going to see his mother?'

  'Sorry?'

  'Neil's mother. Why don't you go and see her?' Lisa repeated patiently.

  'Shouldn't you be getting back to Martha? The babies are probably awake by now.'

  'If you don't want to talk about it just say so,' Lisa said with a scowl.

  Dee grinned. 'I don't want to talk about it.'

  'Fine, fine, I'm leaving.'

  'Lisa?'

  The other girl paused in the doorway.

  'Thanks.'

  Lisa smiled. 'No problem.'

  Dee worked solidly through the afternoon in relative peace and then when Lisa and Martha went home, she buttoned Sam into a warm jacket and took him for a walk down on the beach. As they clambered around the rock pools, Sam's feet safely encased in cotton socks and knee-high wellies, Dee felt the tension begin to seep from her bones.

  'Can we go on holidays, Mum?' Sam said, out of the blue.

  'Not in winter time, sweetheart.'

  'Then in the summer?'

  'We'll see,' she prevaricated. 'Maybe we could go down to Tramore for a few days.'

  'Natalie is going to Switzerland, skiing, and Tom is going to Scotland in the summer,' Sam told her. 'It would be fun if we could go on a plane together, wouldn't it, Mum?'

  He looked up at her, his large, beautiful eyes making her catch her breath.

  'Lovely,' she agreed and, watching him run off to play, happy with her response, Dee wondered if his first flight would be with his father.

  Chapter 11

  Ger flicked the toast crumbs from his trousers and stood up and stretched. Lisa looked up from the newspaper. 'If you're making a cuppa I'd love one.'

  Ger walked to the door. 'Sorry, no, I'm off for a pint.'

  'But you've only just got here.' She looked at her watch. Ger had arrived only an hour ago, two hours late and an hour after Lisa had scraped his burnt dinner into the bin. He'd said he'd had to work late and of course she understood that and she'd made him a toasted cheese sandwich and brought it in on a tray so he could watch the news.

  'Sorry but I promised Terry I'd meet him, he's having a few problems in work. Anyway, you'll be going to bed soon.'

  Yeah but she hadn't been planning to go alone. 'I don't know why you bothered coming around at all,' she said sulkily.

  Ger came back to the sofa and jumped on her. 'For a cuddle of course,' he said tickling her.

  Lisa made a pretence of pushing him off.

  'You don't really mind me going, do you?' he murmured into her hair. 'I kind of feel sorry for Terry, he's been having a tough time.'

  'You're a big softy.'

  'That's me.' He kissed her noisily. 'You go and get your beauty sleep.'

  'Will I see you tomorrow night?' Lisa asked, remembering it was Friday.

  'I'll call you.' He blew her a kiss and was gone.

  With a frustrated sigh, Lisa turned to the telly page but there was nothing decent on. She may as well go and have a bath, shave her legs and do her nails. With luck she would talk Ger into taking her to the new Italian restaurant on the main street tomorrow night. Apparently they did a very good early bird menu and it was quite reasonable. That would appeal to Ger; he believed in value for money. And he was right of course, Lisa hadn't realized what a rip-off most of the restaurants were until he'd pointed it out to her.

  'Five euros for two prawns!' Ger had said when he'd seen her starter in the Indian restaurant he'd taken her to for her birthday.

  'It's really delicious,' Lisa had ventured.

  'It would want to be,' he'd scoffed,
'at two-fifty a prawn.'

  'But there's the salad and the lovely sauce too,' Lisa had pointed out.

  He had rewarded her with a pitying look. 'God, Lisa you're so gullible.'

  And of course he was right, the prices were a bit high but then they had to make a living too, didn't they? But she knew better than to say that to Ger. He felt very strongly about the huge mark-up on food, wine and even water in Irish restaurants. On the rare occasions they did go out Lisa had to listen as he went through the entire menu, putting a figure on what each dish had probably cost to make. It was wearing her down to the point that Lisa was now happier going to the pub and bringing home a takeaway or doing the cooking herself.

  And Ger did love her cooking, a fact that greatly amused Dee. Lisa had never really got to grips with the whole healthy living bit, despite seeing and eating the marvellous things Dee produced every day. She didn't have the energy or the interest to prepare things from scratch and why would she when there were perfectly good sauces in jars? As for the ready meals you could get today, they were a far cry from what she had lived on when she first left home. Now she could present Ger with shredded duck with pancakes and plum sauce on a Saturday night and follow it up with a roast beef dinner for lunch the following day complete with roast potatoes and gravy. Dee had no idea how good the quality of this food was now and if she tried to tell her the other girl would just point to the ingredients and walk away. But so what if there were a few additives and sugar and salt – how could you have dinner with no salt? It hadn't done her any harm.

  The bath was now full of foaming bubbles and Lisa stripped off, pausing to stand on the weighing scales before she climbed in. She groaned when she saw she'd put on another two pounds and decided that tomorrow she would just have cup-a-soups and coffee. If she could survive on liquids during the day she'd be able to enjoy her dinner all the more.

  'How can you eat that muck?' Dee wrinkled her nose as Lisa stirred boiling water into her mug. 'A bowl of my soup would be much healthier and lower in calories.'

  Lisa eyed the pot of chicken and vegetable broth on the stove with suspicion. 'It's got bits in it.'

  'They're called vegetables,' Dee said slowly.

  Lisa shrugged. 'I've made this now; it would be a shame to waste it.'