Emma was secretly horrified to hear Lorna criticize her husband to the rest of them. She’d never say a bad word about Vincent to any of her friends. You had to be loyal to your husband in public, it reflected badly on you if you weren’t. Obviously Lorna didn’t care enough about Declan to make the effort. Emma always spoke in glowing terms about Vincent. She was the envy of the set and that pleased her. But the nice thing was that she didn’t have to tell fibs or exaggerate. Vincent was very good to her, she reflected as she stepped into the bath.
It was a treat to lie back in a bubble bath and not have to worry about the baby. Emma smoothed the frothy bubbles over her arms and shoulders and felt light-hearted and free. Just like when she was first married. She’d lost a few pounds through strict dieting. That pleased her enormously. The pill was terrible for putting weight on you, she thought regretfully as she ran her palm lightly over her almost flat stomach. She’d gone to London for a long weekend just before Julie Ann came home from hospital. It had been wonderful to go out on the town with her sister and, while she was there, she’d gone to a family planning clinic and got a six-month supply of the pill. This time, she was taking it religiously every night as instructed. She was never ever going to get caught again. It was much easier to get the pill in London, and a perfect excuse for a weekend away.
Vincent didn’t mind her going. And he was very glad when, several weeks later, Emma decided she was safe at last and ravished him seductively one Friday night, ending several frustrating months of unwilling celibacy.
Emma felt rather horny as she remembered that night of passion. Tonight, they’d have another one, she decided happily as she lathered Avon scented soap all over her.
Two hours later, wrapped snugly in her fox fur jacket, she crossed Dawson Street and headed towards Grafton Street. She’d parked the car in Duke Street and planned a little spree in Brown Thomas before meeting the girls in the Shelbourne for coffee.
She had a delightful time testing various perfumes and face creams before she splurged on a new Max Factor foundation that gave her skin a very smooth, sophisticated glow. A quick browse through the fashions enticed her to buy a gorgeous check mini with a wide buckled belt which would be sensational with the black figure-hugging ribbed polo that she’d bought in the January sales. Vincent loved her in minis, although Mrs Munroe frowned when Emma wore them and told her that she’d get cold in her kidneys. Emma knew her mother-in-law thought her skirts were indecent and that she was flaunting herself, but she didn’t give a hoot. Vincent loved them. God had given her a great pair of legs to show off and if Ma Munroe didn’t like it, she could lump it.
Emma didn’t know that the women of the guild had christened her ‘Mrs Mini’, and that the sight of her waltzing along Main Street with her skirts ‘up to her buttocks’, as Bonnie Daly inelegantly put it, scandalized the older women so much that there was actually a suggestion that the parish priest should have a word in Vincent’s ear about his wife’s inappropriate apparel.
‘Look what I treated myself to,’ Emma said gaily to Gillian and Lorna as she held out the new purchase for their admiration.
‘It’s fab,’ Gillian enthused.
‘I wish I had the legs to wear it,’ Lorna said enviously. Her legs were of the tree-trunk variety.
They spent a couple of glorious hours indulging in the most rewarding gossip, drinking rich dark coffee and eating little scones smothered in great dollops of jam and cream. Diets were forgotten by one and all. Emma didn’t want the morning to end. She was having fun. When the girls reluctantly made a move to go, Emma decided on the spur of the moment to call and visit her mother. She knew she should go home and collect Julie Ann from Miriam’s but the thought of spending yet another dreary afternoon at home depressed her utterly. It was starting to rain again as she hurried past the Mansion House and she just made it to the car before the heavens opened.
There was no way she was going to drive to Glenree in that downpour. A quick trip to Foxrock was much more inviting.
‘Where’s Julie Ann?’ Pamela asked disappointedly.
‘I didn’t bring her this morning. Miriam’s taking care of her,’ Emma said irritably, miffed by her mother’s obvious disappointment.
‘I hope you’re not taking advantage of that girl. You left Julie Ann with her last week as well,’ Pamela scolded.
‘Miriam doesn’t mind. Besides she’s company for Rebecca.’ Emma scowled. Pamela had a knack of making her feel like a neglectful mother. She was beginning to regret her impulse to call and visit.
‘How’s Sheila?’ Pamela inquired as she put the kettle on to boil.
‘Oh up to her eyes as usual,’ Emma said offhandedly as she flicked through a copy of Vogue. ‘Interfering like mad, telling Ellen how to take care of Stephanie, according to Miriam.’
‘Who’s Stephanie?’
Emma’s hand shot involuntarily to her mouth. She and Vincent had never told Pamela about Ellen’s pregnancy.
‘Who’s Stephanie?’ Pamela repeated, surprised by Emma’s reaction.
‘Er . . . no-one, really.’
‘Emma . . . Who?’ Pamela was not to be fobbed off.
‘Ellen got pregnant and had a baby at Christmas,’ Emma muttered. She was raging with herself. Now she was going to have to endure an interrogation that would leave the Spanish Inquisition in the junior league.
‘Why didn’t you tell me before now?’ Pamela was stunned.
‘It’s none of my business.’ Emma tried to sound indifferent.
‘Don’t talk nonsense, Emma.’ Pamela was unimpressed. ‘Why didn’t she marry the father?’
‘He wouldn’t marry her.’ Emma wished with all her might that her mother would change the topic. ‘Will Dad be home for lunch?’
‘Not today. Now why wouldn’t this chap marry Ellen? The poor unfortunate girl. She must be in a terrible state.’
‘I don’t have much to do with her. I don’t know.’ And I don’t care, she would have liked to add. Damn Ellen and her stupidity.
‘That’s terrible,’ Pamela tutted as she made coffee. ‘Poor Sheila must be devastated. I thought she was in very bad form when we had them over at Christmas. The poor woman never said a word about it. I suppose she’s mortified.’
‘Hmm,’ Emma agreed.
‘Was Ellen going with this chap for long?’
‘I don’t know.’ Emma was evasive. Pamela was surprised at her daughter’s reticence. It wasn’t like her at all. Usually Emma would be full of the gory details. It wasn’t that she was protecting her sister-in-law. Emma couldn’t stand Ellen. Pamela knew that for a fact.
‘Wait a minute. I vaguely remember you telling me that Ellen went out with Chris after your wedding.’ Pamela stared at Emma.
Emma flushed and looked away.
‘Is Chris the father, Emma?’ Pamela was horrified.
There was no point in denying it, Emma knew. Pamela would get to the bottom of the matter one way or the other.
‘Is he?’
‘Yeah.’
‘The pup!’ Pamela exclaimed. Disgusted. ‘He’s just got engaged to Suzy. They’re getting married in June. Does Ellen know this? Does Suzy know about this child? Is he taking his responsibilities to the child seriously?’ The questions came quick and fast.
Emma’s heart sank even further. You’d think it was all her fault the way her mother was going on. She didn’t know whether Suzy knew about Ellen or Stephanie. She had a feeling that she didn’t. But it was none of her business and she certainly wasn’t going to interfere.
‘You must know something, Emma.’
‘Mum, Chris is a big boy now. He doesn’t tell me the intimate details of his relationships. I didn’t know about him and Ellen for ages. And I haven’t a clue as to whether he’s told Suzy or not. That’s their business, not mine.’
‘Wait until I see him, I’ll have a few words to say to him I can tell you. How embarrassing that a member of our family should be the cause of such a scandal. I’ll have t
o ring Sheila and apologize.’
‘For God’s sake, Mum!’ Emma exclaimed in dismay. ‘Just say nothing and keep out of it. It’s nothing to do with you.’
‘Indeed it has,’ Pamela retorted. ‘Chris is our relation and he’s left that girl in the lurch. He didn’t even have the decency to marry her. Sheila and Mick are entitled to an apology.’ Pamela was furious that Chris had put her in such an awkward position. ‘You should have told me about this long before now. I’m very annoyed, Emma. Very annoyed indeed.’
Not half as annoyed as Vincent’s going to be when he finds out I’ve let the cat out of the bag. Emma frowned as she sipped her coffee. Hail, rain or snow she should have gone straight home to Glenree instead of coming to Foxrock and opening her big mouth.
‘It’s life and there’s nothing you can do about it. One has to keep going. But thank you for ringing, Pamela. Give my regards to the judge,’ Sheila said crisply. Although outwardly composed, she was absolutely mortified. To have Pamela Connolly ring her up and commiserate about Ellen’s pregnancy was a heart-scalding embarrassment that she would never forget. Pamela, to give her her due, had been very nice. Not a bit patronizing. Sheila got the impression that the other woman was as embarrassed as she was. And Pamela was certainly furious with Chris Wallace. She’d been scathing about his lack of responsibility.
‘Not perfect husband material at all,’ she clipped in her posh south Dublin accent. ‘That girl he’s engaged to needs her head examined.’
It’s Ellen he should have married, Sheila wanted to retort, but she restrained herself. It wasn’t Pamela’s fault, even if Chris Wallace was related to her. It was a shock to hear that he’d just got engaged to be married. Secretly Sheila had always hoped that he’d reconsider and marry Ellen. She’d give her right arm to see her daughter respectably married. It was a relief when the conversation was over. She put the receiver back on its cradle and stood for a moment trying to regain her composure. Earlier she’d heard Ellen laughing and playing with Stephanie. Now there was silence, the baby must have gone to sleep.
How could Ellen laugh? Sheila wondered crossly as all the feelings of anger and resentment resurfaced. Stephanie was a little dote, she couldn’t deny it. And she was the apple of her grandfather’s eye. But what sort of life was she going to have? She’d be asked about her father in years to come. What sort of answer would Ellen have? It would have been better if Ellen had put a ring on her finger and moved to Dublin where no-one knew her. She could have pretended that she was a widow. She might have had some chance of meeting another man. Some chance of getting married. In Glenree, she had nothing, just a reputation that was in tatters. Tears stung Sheila’s eyes. Angrily she brushed them away. She’d shed enough tears over her wayward daughter. She’d shed no more.
‘You’re so pretty, my precious,’ Ellen cooed proudly at her baby daughter who was lying on the bed, stark naked, waiting for a clean nappy. The bedroom was snug and cosy. A crackling fire flamed in the grate, protecting them from the cold biting winter wind that whistled down the chimney. The rain hurled itself against the window and Ellen was glad to be at home in the peace and quiet of her bedroom, away from the prying eyes and the pointing fingers.
They spent a lot of time together in the bedroom. Ellen looked around at the room that had been hers since childhood. A comfortable old armchair decorated in faded chintz sat beside the fire. It was a lovely chair, perfect for curling up in to have a snooze or a read. Now it was an ideal place to feed Stephanie. A mahogany double-doored wardrobe stood along the wall between the fire and the doorway. It was as old as the hills and had the battle scars to prove it. Ellen thought longingly of Emma’s modern fitted wardrobes.
The big brass bedstead gleamed in the firelight. It had been her grandmother’s. A huge colourful patchwork quilt covered the bed and Ellen had added a couple of cushions in squares of dusky pink and eggshell blue for effect. They picked up the faded dusky pink of the walls, and the pale blue of the curtains.
Stephanie’s crib stood beside the bed. Mick had made a marvellous job of it, Ellen thought gratefully as she fastened the safety pins on her daughter’s nappy and pulled on the plastic pants. A sash window gave views of the garden and the valley beyond. In the distance Ellen could see the lights in Miriam’s bungalow. Vincent and Emma’s house was in darkness. The lights of Glenree pierced the gloom of a wet afternoon as the rain dripped steadily down. Ellen often sat for hours in the window seat immersed in the view.
Stephanie yawned and scrunched up her eyes. Ellen leaned down and kissed her on the tip of her little turned-up nose. She had the cutest nose and the bluest eyes. She didn’t look a bit like Chris . . . yet . . . Well around the eyes, perhaps, Ellen conceded.
She sighed deeply as she slid the little vest down over Stephanie’s dark downy head. Maybe if Chris saw his daughter he might have a change of heart. For the last few days she’d thought of nothing else except bringing Stephanie to Chris. She was such an irresistible baby, how could he possibly turn his back on her? Maybe if the weather improved tomorrow, she’d go into Dublin to his new office. Miriam had found out from Emma where it was. At least he wouldn’t be having a dinner party there, Ellen thought bitterly, remembering the night she’d gone to his house.
She’d hoped that once she’d had the baby the loneliness would ease but, if anything, it was worse. She so badly wanted to share the joy of Stephanie with Chris. And her baby was a joy to her. A great joy and blessing and Chris was missing all of it.
Dusk had fallen as she finished dressing the baby in her nightclothes. The darkened room was lit only by the light from the flickering flames. Stephanie was almost asleep. She always slept after her feed. Ellen was reluctant to switch on a lamp. She sat for a while with her baby in her arms, enjoying the peace and solitude. This room was her sanctuary. Her place to hide from the world. She didn’t want to leave it.
The phone rang downstairs. Ellen could hear the murmur of her mother’s voice. She supposed she should go down and offer to get the tea. She placed Stephanie gently in her crib and covered her up warmly. She heard Sheila hang up. The conversation hadn’t been a long one, whoever it was.
Reluctantly, she slipped out of her room and closed the door quietly. The lamp was on in the hall, lighting her way down the stairs. Sheila was standing by the phone looking flushed and agitated.
‘What’s wrong?’ Ellen asked in concern.
Sheila glared at her. ‘That was Pamela Connolly, she’d heard about you having a baby.’
‘Oh,’ Ellen murmured.
‘Oh, indeed,’ Sheila snapped. ‘At least Pamela had the manners to apologize for the behaviour of that . . . that . . . rake. You can forget about him, my girl, if you’ve been cherishing any secret notions that he might change his mind and marry you. Because he won’t! He’s just got engaged to that other floozy he was carrying on with.’ Sheila was deeply angry. She swept past Ellen into the kitchen and slammed the door behind her.
Ellen stood in the hall shocked to her core. Deep down she’d always hoped and believed that Chris would have a change of heart and marry her. It had been the dream that kept her going. Even after every setback. Now she had no hope. He was getting married. Slowly she turned and walked back upstairs. She wanted to scream and cry and curse his name to the four winds. This was the deepest hurt of all. She could hardly breathe because of it. She slipped into the room, lay down on the bed and buried her face in a cushion. Hot wet tears coursed down her cheeks, as she muffled her sobs in the cushion. What in the name of God was she going to do? She’d have to think of something. She couldn’t stay in Glenree with Sheila. The tension was unbearable. She’d have to get a job and try and make some sort of a life for herself. Stephanie slept soundly in her cot, blissfully unaware of her mother’s anguish, while Ellen cried as though her heart would break.
Ellen looked wretched, Miriam thought as her sister-in-law let herself in through the back door. Miriam was sitting by the fire, exhausted. All the children were in
bed. She’d tidied up the house and she was seriously considering going to bed herself, even though it was only half past seven. Ben was at his union meeting.
She was still feeling mad with Emma. She hadn’t arrived home until four-thirty that afternoon to collect Julie Ann, who had screeched for the entire duration of her stay.
That was it, Miriam promised herself. No more child-minding. She had enough of her own.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she asked Ellen, hoping the other girl would refuse. She was too tired to get up and put on the kettle.
‘Yes please, Miriam.’ Ellen sank into a chair and began to cry.
‘What’s wrong? Is Stephanie OK?’ Miriam asked in concern.
‘Stephanie’s fine.’ Ellen gulped. ‘It’s Chris. He’s getting married and I don’t know what to do. I always hoped we’d get back together. I really love him, Miriam. I know you think I’m nuts but I just can’t help it. I don’t want to love him. I don’t want to be thinking of him. How do I get him out of my head?’ She rubbed her knuckles into her eyes and sobbed like a child.
Miriam pitied her from the bottom of her heart. She couldn’t understand how Ellen could possibly love Chris after the way he’d behaved towards her. But no matter how much she pointed out his flaws, Ellen never listened. She just made excuses for him and kept on loving him.
‘I’ll have to get a job. I’ll have to make some sort of a life for Stephanie. I can’t just stay up in my bedroom for ever.’ Ellen raised red-rimmed eyes to Miriam.
‘I know it’s a huge favour to ask, Miriam. But I can’t ask Mam. I don’t want to ask her. I was wondering if I asked Dad for my old job back for the time being, would you look after Stephanie until I get something sorted?’
Miriam’s heart sank. She longed to refuse. She couldn’t face looking after another baby as well as Rebecca and her two toddlers. She could barely look after them as it was. But how could she say no to the shattered woman in front of her? How could she possibly turn her back on Ellen?
Promises, Promises Page 23
