She was tired after travelling but the holiday itself had thoroughly refreshed her, and she’d enjoyed every minute of it – apart from the nasty little episode with Ken Davenport. She wondered how Juliet was getting on. She’d give her a call some time in the week.
Twenty minutes later, she was sitting down to a tasty supper of prawn salad, coleslaw, tomatoes, peppers and nutty brown bread.
‘Scrumptious,’ she murmured appreciatively, as she chewed a succulent fat prawn.
‘Got them in Cavistons,’ Debbie said, pouring each of them a mug of tea.
‘So what’s your news? Are you preggers?’ Connie asked after she took a welcome slug of tea.
‘Wash your mouth out,’ Debbie admonished. ‘No, I’m not. But Melissa and I came down to visit Miss Hope, and she was very upset and told me that Dad and Aimee were talking of getting divorced. What do you think of that? She overheard them having a row.’
‘Ah, the poor little moppet, that’s horrible for her,’ Connie exclaimed. ‘As it happens, your dad told me about the divorce thing, he rang me to tell me that you were bringing Melissa down. He was really chuffed about that. And he mentioned about the divorce and told me he might be looking for a bed and a place to stay,’ Connie said dryly.
‘Oh crikey! What did you say to that?’
‘Nothing, absolutely nothing,’ Connie retorted, and Debbie grinned at the vehemence in her voice.
‘It will be a bummer for Melissa if they do get divorced, although it wouldn’t bother me a bit.’ Debbie cut a slice of tea-brack and slathered it with butter. ‘Do you want some?’ she offered.
‘I shouldn’t. I ate all round me on holidays – that’s why I did so much walking. I don’t want to gain even more weight,’ Connie demurred.
‘Talking of weight, Mum, something awful’s come up, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I need your advice,’ Debbie said earnestly.
‘What’s that?’
‘I think Melissa’s developing an eating problem. She’s lost loads of weight, and we had a Chinese here last week, and she was chewing and spitting out her food. I saw it when I was clearing up afterwards. I didn’t actually notice her doing it, and that’s even more worrying, that she’s practised at it.’
‘Are you sure? Maybe she didn’t like it and was too polite to say?’ Connie put her knife and fork down, dismayed.
‘I don’t think so. And I want to be really careful here, because she’s starting to trust me, telling me about the row and everything, so I don’t want her to think I’m talking about her behind her back. She’ll never tell me anything otherwise and, I know it’s hard to believe after the way I’ve been towards her over the years, but I’m actually beginning to feel protective of her,’ Debbie admitted sheepishly.
‘Ah, Debbie, that’s wonderful to hear,’ Connie said warmly. ‘It’s something your dad and I have always wanted for you both. Blood is thicker than water at the end of the day, and a good relationship with a sister is a great blessing.’
‘We had a really nice time, actually. We sang our heads off the whole way down. What should I do about it, Mum?’
‘We’ll keep a good eye on her. I’ll invite the two of you down to dinner next week and we’ll see if it happens again and, if it does, I’ll have a word with your father about it,’ Connie suggested.
‘OK, that’s a good idea. Thanks, Mum, you’re the best. Now tell me all about the holidays. Did you meet any fine things?’
‘Sure did,’ grinned Connie. ‘There was a nudist beach not far from where Juliet lives – but wait until I tell you the news about the Davenports!’ Connie exclaimed as she got up and refilled the kettle to make another cup of tea.
It was after eleven before Debbie left, and after midnight before Connie fell asleep. At least she didn’t have a long commute, she comforted herself, as she stood at her breakfast counter, showered and dressed, at 7 a.m. the following morning gulping hot tea.
There was a foggy mist when she set off. It was almost autumnal, she thought in dismay, even though it was only the beginning of August, hating the thought of dark mornings and short days. She pulled her little blue cardigan on and made her way to her new job.
The back door was open and she let herself into the kitchen. Fiona, the night nurse, was making porridge. Jessie had introduced them before she went away on holidays.
‘Hi Connie – look at the colour of you, ya lucky thing,’ Fiona greeted her. ‘I’m just making the porridge for Mrs Mansfield; she always has it in bed with tea and toast at eight thirty. Then you’ll help her wash, or bathe if she prefers, help her dress, give her her medication and, basically, that’s all the nursing duties that are required. Her Parkinson’s is not too severe. She reads her paper and does her crossword – but she’ll need you to fill in the clues for her – and then she has lunch around twelve thirty and her meds again. Sometimes she has a walk, sometimes she likes to go for a drive down to see her horses, or she might go for a nap, depending on how she’s slept. It varies, and then Jessie comes in at two, and off you go. She’s a great patient really, but she does like her routines and is most particular about taking her medication at the correct time every day. Just remember that, and you’ll do fine,’ the other nurse said reassuringly.
‘It’s weird wearing a dress and cap again,’ Connie remarked as she took the mug of tea the other girl offered. ‘Trousers are so handy.’
‘I know, but she can’t stand nurses in trousers and blames the lack of the veil and cap for all sorts of bugs, including MRSA,’ Fiona laughed. ‘She has some funny little notions, but she’s as sharp as a button, and woe betide anyone who thinks otherwise.’ She gave the porridge a final stir. ‘Right, I’m off. Good luck on your first day. I think you’ll enjoy it,’ she said. ‘Make yourself at home – there’s plenty of food in the fridge if you want a bacon sanger or anything. You met Rita, the housekeeper – she’ll be in around eight fifteen. Just have Mrs Mansfield’s breakfast up to her at eight thirty sharp.’
‘No problem,’ Connie said cheerfully. If this was to be her routine, it would be a doddle compared to the backbreaking shifts she’d often endured, and well worth the drop in pay. She was right to go part time, she assured herself; she’d worked hard all her life and, now that Debbie was reared and the wedding was over, it was time to take life easier.
The morning passed quite quickly, by the time breakfast, bathing and dressing were over and Mrs Mansfield was settled at her crossword. Her new employer had a lively mind, and they’d had some interesting discussions.
‘Now Connie, I look at the crossword first and, when I’m ready, I’ll ring the bell and you can fill in the clues I can answer. Then I’ll have a look at the more difficult ones and call you again. Go down now and have your tea break and make sure Rita gives you one of her scones. They’re very, very tasty,’ Mrs Mansfield instructed.
‘Thanks, I will and, in the meantime, if you need me, ring your bell,’ Connie said kindly.
‘I don’t believe in having my nurses as slaves to the bell,’ Mrs Mansfield said firmly. ‘I’m not in my dotage yet. And the shakes aren’t too bad, so have your tea and enjoy it. I’m very pleased with you; I knew we’d get on well. Just put the cat on my knee before you go, I always concentrate much better when I’m stroking her.’
Connie gently lifted Mittens, a little marmalade tabby, on to her patient’s lap and saw a smile of contentment spread over the old lady’s face. ‘Go, go.’ She waved Connie away gently and settled back to peruse her crossword, which was securely placed on a reading frame.
‘Connie, tell Drew our lives won’t be worth living if he doesn’t call up and see her ladyship,’ Rita said the minute she walked into the kitchen.
‘Oh hi.’ Connie smiled at the tall man who was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded. ‘Our lives won’t be worth living if you don’t go up and see her ladyship,’ she parroted obediently. ‘I thought Friday was your visiting day.’
‘I couldn’t come on Friday. But I did ring
her. One of her horses foaled, so I took a photo of it and said I’d drop it in when I was passing by. I’m in a small bit of hurry, and she’ll want me to have tea with her, and I don’t like refusing her,’ Drew explained.
‘ ’Cos you’re a big softy,’ Rita teased.
‘Don’t listen to her, Connie, I’m as hard as nails. Did you have a good holiday? You’ve a good colour.’ Drew’s eyes lingered over her, and she wished she were a stone lighter.
‘The weather was fabulous,’ she sighed, at what was now almost a distant memory. ‘I heard it rained a lot here; the grass was up to my ass when I got home.’
‘And have you a big garden?’ He arched an eyebrow at her, his blue eyes studying her intently.
‘Big enough for the old crock of a lawnmower I have. I’ll have muscles like Popeye by the time it’s cut.’ She poured herself a cup of coffee, thinking how tanned he was without even leaving the county, let alone the country.
‘Where do you live? You’re local, aren’t you? I have a John Deere that mulches, so there’s no emptying involved. I’ll throw it in the trailer and do it in jig time for you?’ he offered.
‘Ah God no, I wouldn’t put you out,’ Connie exclaimed, flustered.
‘You won’t be putting me out at all,’ he said crisply. ‘Give me a time that suits, and your address, and I’ll be there. Who knows when I might need a splinter removed, or a wasp sting or worse, and you can return the favour.’
‘Are you sure?’ She was mortified, cursing herself for having mentioned it in the first place and having exaggerated the grass’s growth in the second.
‘Certain.’
She told him the address, and he pulled a piece of paper out of his jeans pocket. ‘Give me your mobile number, just in case anything happens that I can’t make it,’ he ordered. She rattled it off, conscious of Rita grinning at her as Drew wrote it down.
‘Better go. Here’s the photo for Mrs M.’ He handed her a colour photo of the most adorable jet-black foal.
‘Oh it’s gorgeous!’ Connie exclaimed.
‘Drop by any time to see her,’ Drew invited. ‘I’m sure you’ll be bringing herself to visit anyway.’
‘Drew, you’ll have to go up with it. You know the way she’s mad about you,’ Rita insisted.
‘The foolish woman.’ He grimaced. ‘I’ll go up for five minutes, but no tea, no matter what she says,’ he warned.
‘Why don’t you give me your mobile number, and I’ll ring you after ten minutes and you can pretend there’s an emergency at the stables,’ Connie suggested.
‘Brains as well as beauty, a rare combination.’ He smiled and wrote his number down for her. ‘Five minutes, max,’ he cautioned sternly.
‘Aye aye, sir,’ Connie saluted, amused at his bossiness.
‘Sorry,’ he apologized. ‘But I am in a rush.’
Mrs Mansfield was delighted when she heard Drew had called. ‘Bring up tea and scones,’ she instructed Connie when she showed him into her sitting room.
‘Now, Mrs Mansfield, this is just a flying visit, I’m in an awful hurry. I just wanted to drop you in a photo of the foal,’ Drew said firmly as he bent his cheek for her kiss. He was a kind man, and gentle with the old lady, Connie thought approvingly.
‘Sit down there now and tell me all the news. The tea will be here in a minute,’ Mrs Mansfield instructed, as pleased as punch. Connie made her way back down to the kitchen, grinning inwardly at the look of pleading Drew had thrown her. Rita had the tea made, the tray was set, and a plate of buttered scones was at the ready. ‘It won’t take him five minutes to scoff one of these and drink a little cup of tea,’ she declared. ‘Do you want to bring them up?’
‘No, you do it – don’t forget I’ve to ring him to let on there’s an emergency.’
‘Are you sure? I think he fancies you,’ Rita said wickedly, eyes twinkling.
‘Ha ha, I think you’ve a vivid imagination. You go,’ Connie said, as she topped up her coffee.
‘We’ll see,’ said Rita smugly as she lifted the tray off the counter and hurried out of the kitchen. ‘I bet he’ll ask you out.’
‘Don’t hold your breath,’ Connie called after her. She sat down at the table and stretched. The morning was flying, she thought, as she glanced at her watch. It was great to think she’d be finished in a couple of hours. The rest of the afternoon was hers. Should she try and cut the grass herself, so that when Drew called she wouldn’t waste his time? It would be a bit churlish if she did, she supposed. What on earth had made her open her big mouth?
‘He’s going mad up there,’ Rita chuckled. ‘You better make the phone call in a minute or so, or he’ll never speak to me again. He’s always in a rush, that fella.’
Connie took her phone out of her bag and dialled the number he’d written down for her.
‘Hello?’ His voice came strong and clear down the line.
‘You’ve an emergency at your stables. What it is I’m not sure exactly, you can make it up yourself,’ she said, trying not to laugh.
‘Thanks very much, I’ll be right there,’ he said briskly, and hung up.
Two minutes later he was in the kitchen. ‘Thanks for the tea, Rita. Thanks for the phone call, Connie. Have you decided what day suits you for me to cut the grass?’ He looked at her.
‘Tomorrow? Wednesday? What suits you?’ she hedged.
‘Tomorrow’s fine. Two thirty. See you then. Bye, ladies,’ he said, and then he was gone, striding out to his jeep and glancing at his watch in barely suppressed exasperation.
‘A man in a hurry,’ Connie murmured.
‘He’s never any other way. He’s a workaholic, if you ask me,’ Rita remarked, chopping vegetables at high speed.
‘And who’d want to be involved with one of them?’ Connie drained her mug. ‘Not me for sure.’
What on earth was wrong with him, going around offering to cut strange women’s lawns, Drew pondered as he drove along the narrow road that led to Mrs Mansfield’s. Surely he had enough work of his own to be doing. His offer had popped out almost before he’d known it. He could see Connie was embarrassed. He should have kept his big mouth shut. Drew sighed as his mobile rang and the Bluetooth clicked in.
‘Drew, it’s Marianna.’ An unwelcome voice crackled down the line.
‘Yes, Marianna, what is it?’ He could hardly conceal his impatience or his distaste.
‘I have a favour to ask. As you know, my dad’s in hospital, but Mama needs the car tomorrow, she has to see a chiropodist. Would you be able to drop me up to Blackrock, and she’ll drive up later? I wouldn’t ask, only that he’s seeing his cardiologist tomorrow and he’s asked me to be there.’
For crying out loud, leave me alone, woman, Drew wanted to roar at her, but he suppressed the impulse and said stiffly, ‘I’m very tied for time tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at eight thirty sharp. Take it or leave it.’
‘Thanks, Drew, that’s wonderful. You’re the best,’ Marianna gushed.
‘Eight thirty then,’ he reiterated, and hung up. She had such a nerve, he fumed. How he wished he could have told her to get lost. But she was the mother of his daughters and she was in a fix, and he’d been reared to do a good turn if someone was stuck. That was it, though, he swore as he drove into the stables, to see that the farrier was already there.
‘Sorry for keeping you, Mick,’ he apologized. ‘I got delayed. I called into Mrs Mansfield’s with a photo of her new foal, and of course she had to offer me tea.’
‘I hear there’s a fine-looking new nurse started out there this morning. The postman was telling me all about her. Divorced, too, but I’m not fussy,’ the old bachelor cackled.
‘News travels fast, Mick.’ Drew followed him into his own horse, Marino’s, stall.
‘Would I have a chance, d’you think?’
‘Don’t ask me – what do I know about women only that they’re trouble,’ Drew said grumpily, stroking his horse’s neck as the farrier held its hind leg up for inspection.
/> What would she wear for her trip to Dublin with Drew? Marianna flicked through the items in her wardrobe. Something smart, elegant and sexy. The sun was shining, for once, she noted as the early morning light filtered through the folds in the net curtains. Why her mother wouldn’t get blinds she could not understand.
She took out a pair of red linen trousers and a floral halterneck top and tried it on. Bit too casual if she was meeting a consultant, she thought regretfully. Red was good on her.
She tried on a pair of white trousers with a black cami and white jacket. Perfect, she decided. She could slip off the jacket in the car, and he could have the pleasure of looking at her perfect, pert boobs. She was so glad she’d had them done. They’d started to droop and, as they had drooped, so had her spirits. Middle age would be held at bay come hell or high water was her motto, and Edward had plenty of money.
She applied her make-up with extra care, smoothing the foundation over her serum, admiring her collagen-enhanced lips as she did so. She wondered, yet again, had Drew a woman in his life. He hadn’t brought anyone to Katy’s wedding. But that had been ages ago. Marianna expertly applied a set of false eyelashes. She didn’t look a day over thirty-five, she congratulated herself.
Her ex-husband arrived at eight thirty precisely and beeped on the horn. That was a bit rude. Marianna frowned. Surely he could have knocked at the door and said hello to her mother.
‘Morning,’ he said as he leaned over and pushed open the door of the jeep for her. She tried not to wrinkle her nose as she stepped up into it. It was mucky and dusty, although he’d obviously wiped the black leather seat for her. White was not the ideal colour to be wearing in Drew’s jeep.
‘Thanks so much for this.’ She tried the effusive-gratitude tack.
‘You’re welcome.’ He hardly gave her time to fasten her seatbelt before he was racing down the drive, staring straight ahead.
‘So what have you got on today that has you so busy?’ she asked chattily.
Happy Ever After Page 31
