Promises, Promises

by Patricia Scanlan

  Lorna Mitchell pushed the food around her plate. She couldn’t eat. Her stomach was tied up in knots. Her palms were sweaty. Her heart was racing. No-one knew to look at her that she was having a panic attack. She hated Christmas. She dreaded its coming. Declan had made a holy show of them last night. He was on the way to getting smashed again. She couldn’t take this for much longer. She’d lived with it for nearly seven years. The drunkenness. The verbal abuse. The kids, white-faced, watching their father rant and rage.

  She had thought Declan Mitchell was the nicest man in the world when she met him. He’d been charming, attentive, kind, funny, sexy. Everyone thought highly of him. You couldn’t find a more decent chap. Even up to the last year or so, before his drinking had got out of control, people thought Declan was a great bloke. He was always ready to give a lift or a helping hand. He was a street angel and a house devil par excellence. No-one would have believed the years of emotional abuse she’d suffered. She tried to tell them, sometimes, when she was desperate but no-one believed her and in the end she gave up. Declan had everyone fooled. They didn’t see the moods, the foul language, the tearing away of every bit of self-esteem and confidence she had. Only last week, they’d been watching The Late Late Show and she’d made some observation.

  ‘What would you know about it, you stupid cow?’ Declan grunted from where he lay sprawled in his armchair. ‘You’re only an imbecile.’

  Lorna watched him, mauling Nina Monahan. Grinning down at her, teasing her, in that jokey intimate way he had. Nina was loving every minute of it. But then, she would. Nina was man-mad. Forty and manless, she was pretty desperate. Lorna watched her flirting with Declan. She was such a hypocrite! You’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Declan said something to her. She giggled and fluttered her eyelashes at him. They were having a fling, Lorna knew it.

  Something snapped in her. She’d had enough. If Nina was so desperate that she’d take Declan knowing the sort he was now, she was welcome to him and his abusiveness, his moods and his selfishness. And Declan was more than welcome to her. God knows he’d bad-mouthed her often enough to get a laugh from friends. They were well suited. She didn’t care any more.

  She got up and went out to the hall. Declan’s sheepskin coat was hanging up on the hallstand. The car keys were in his pocket. She put on her own jacket, traced some lipstick over her lips and slipped out through the front door.

  Lorna stood on the step and took some deep breaths. Her heartbeat slowed down. Her head felt clearer. She was afraid but she was exhilarated. By the time Declan got home this evening, if he got home – sometimes he stayed out all night – she and the children would be gone. Her widowed father had often told her that she could come back home and live with him. At least she’d have peace of mind. She couldn’t take the emotional torture for one more minute. It was so difficult pretending to other people that Declan’s behaviour was acceptable when it wasn’t. He was on his own now. He could start accepting responsibility for his actions without her to make excuses for him. Maybe she wasn’t the perfect wife. Maybe she wasn’t a cordon bleu cook or a great housekeeper. She had her faults, she knew that. But she’d been prepared to keep her vows and make their marriage work. He hadn’t. It would suit him of course that she’d walked out first. Everyone would feel sorry for him, pity him. And Nina would be seen as his saviour for rescuing him. Sly Nina who’d pretended to be her friend.

  Let them think it. They’d never know the hell Lorna had lived. But no more!

  Feeling that a huge load had lifted from her shoulders, Lorna sat into the Peugeot and drove at speed towards home. Maura, the babysitter, would be surprised to see her back so soon. She’d ask her to help pack up all the children’s clothes and toys. Needless to say Maura would tell the world and his mother about the split. It would be a juicy piece of gossip but Lorna didn’t care any more. She might never see the set again. They were Declan’s friends more than they were hers. She was sick of them and their superficiality. All trying to outdo each other. All bitching about each other behind their backs. She’d been as bad herself. She didn’t like the person she’d turned into. That was all going to change. Today was the beginning of a New Year and the start of her new life.

  Chris and Suzy were chatting to Josie Donovan and her husband. Rather they were listening to Josie twittering on about how Beckett’s work was poetry in its absolute form, according to Josie, who thought she was highly intellectual. Suzy thought she was an absolute bore. Chris’s expression had taken on a glazed look. Suzy knew he was miles away. She eased away from them and walked towards the unit where the photograph Chris had been studying was. She didn’t want to look at it. The thought of what was in it scared her. She wanted to go home but she knew wild horses wouldn’t keep her from picking it up.

  Suzy lost her nerve. Swallowing hard she walked upstairs and went into the pretty pink and grey bathroom. She splashed water on her face and patted it dry with some tissue. She knew Chris was restless and that her marriage was in danger and she didn’t know how to rescue it. Why couldn’t he be content with what he had? The twins. A lovely home. Her. Why wasn’t she enough for him? She loved him. Why wasn’t her love enough? What was he searching for? There’d always been a restlessness about Chris that she couldn’t understand. He’d had a lot of girlfriends before he’d married her, he was no saint, she’d known that. But he’d married her. She was the one he’d wanted to share his life with and have his children. That had to mean something still. It had to. Whatever was in that photograph that had made him look so sad was from his past. It was a photograph of her rival. The woman who was suddenly a threat after all these years. Suzy squared her shoulders. She’d fought a hard battle to get Chris Wallace to put a ring on her finger. She wasn’t going to give him up that easily. No ex-girlfriend was going to get the better of her.

  She marched downstairs and back into the lounge. Defiantly she picked up the gilt-framed photograph.

  ‘Oh no!’ she muttered as she stared into a pair of blue eyes that might have been Chris’s. ‘No! No! No!’ Vincent’s sister had had Chris’s child. Christina and Adam had a half-sister. And Chris had kept this from her all through their marriage. Did he see them still? Was he still sleeping with that woman? Suzy didn’t know what to think.

  Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! she swore silently, her hands trembling as she put the photograph back in its place. Well that was it. That woman could have him. He was never getting into her bed again. She wanted to bawl her eyes out and claw her nails down his face. She wanted to hurt him the way he’d hurt her. But she had to stay composed. She couldn’t disgrace herself in front of everyone. It would be the talk of every dinner party in the city if she did that.

  I hate you Chris Wallace. I loathe you her mind screamed. Why? Would this damn party never end? She needed to be by herself. It was the worst day of her life.

  ‘Vincent, it’s a party not a funeral,’ Emma scolded. She was annoyed with him. He was spoiling the party for her with his bad humour.

  ‘Miriam and Ben left when they saw Chris Wallace was here,’ Vincent retorted.

  ‘What! I don’t believe it. For heaven’s sake what did they do that for?’ Emma hadn’t even noticed that her in-laws weren’t around.

  ‘They did it out of loyalty to Ellen. I should have put my foot down, Emma. I don’t ever want to see him in this house again.’

  ‘Well I think you’re being unreasonable, Vincent. But I’m not going to fight with you about it now. I’ve a house full of guests to take care of but thanks very much for ruining my day,’ Emma whispered furiously before marching away. She was really annoyed with Vincent. And with Miriam and Ben. It was the last time they’d be invited to her house. How dare they put Ellen’s feelings before hers. This luncheon had been the most successful bash she’d ever thrown. Everyone was raving about it. But it meant nothing now because Vincent was annoyed with her. Emma could cheerfully have throttled Ellen Munroe.

  ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’ Doug ask
ed Ellen as he held open the car door for her.

  ‘I had a terrific time. Denise is great fun, isn’t she?’ Ellen waved at her friend who stood smiling at the front door. ‘It was like old times. I’d forgotten how much fun we used to have when we were teenagers.’

  ‘Me too. Life changes you, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah. Look at Denise even. She used to be so vivacious. She was wild. Now she seems . . . I don’t know . . . kind of crushed.’ Ellen sighed. ‘Mind, if I was married to Jimmy McMahon, I think I’d be crushed too. He’s hard going.’

  ‘They say opposites attract and you certainly couldn’t get more opposite than those two,’ Doug said wryly. ‘Still, once he got into the swing of things it was good fun.’

  ‘The best fun I’ve had in ages. And it was so unexpected.’ Ellen turned to Stephanie in the back seat. ‘Did you have a good time, Stephanie?’

  ‘Yeah, Mammy. Michelle and Lisa have loads of Lego, even more than Julie Ann. We built a massive big house. It was brill.’

  ‘Was it?’ Ellen smiled at her daughter’s enthusiasm.

  ‘Mammy, when we move to our new house can Michelle and Lisa come and play with me?’

  ‘Of course they can, pet.’

  ‘If you like, when I’m building your new bedroom I could put a play corner in your room with little presses for your toys,’ Doug suggested.

  ‘Like in Mary Poppins? In the nursery?’ Stephanie asked, wide-eyed. The nursery in the film had fascinated her. Ellen often heard her telling her dolls they were going to the nursery.

  ‘Sure. We’ll make a nursery.’ He winked at Ellen.

  ‘Oh Mammy, I’m so excited. I wish I could be like I Dream of Jeannie an’ blink my eyes an’ wiggle my nose like she does an’ we’d be in our new house.’

  ‘It won’t be long now. Doug will be starting on it soon.’ Ellen found it hard to contain her own excitement. To have her independence after all these years was a dream come true.

  ‘Are you in an awful rush home?’ Doug started the engine and looked at her.

  Ellen was surprised at the question. ‘Not really.’

  ‘How about if we drive into Dublin and show Stephanie the Christmas lights?’

  ‘Please, Mammy, please can we?’ Stephanie pleaded, her eyes like saucers at this unexpected treat.

  ‘Are you sure, Doug? I thought you were going to call on your sister,’ Ellen demurred.

  ‘It’s still early, another couple of hours won’t make any difference. It’s up to you.’

  ‘Thanks, Doug. We’d love to,’ Ellen agreed happily. It was so long since a man, apart from her father, had treated her with kindness, she’d forgotten what it felt like. She felt very comfortable with Doug. He was good company and he treated her with respect. It felt nice. This was definitely the best New Year she’d had since Chris. Maybe her luck was changing at last.

  ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me you’d got Vincent Munroe’s sister pregnant? Was it before we were married or after?’ Suzy couldn’t contain her anger. They were driving back towards the city. It was almost four and the pinky purple hues of the setting sun cast a pastel tinge over the still countryside.

  Chris shrugged. He’d seen Suzy study the photo. Seen her sudden pallor and knew that she knew. There was nothing he could do about it. It had been bound to come out sometime.

  ‘Are you still seeing them? Have you been seeing them all along? Christ, Chris, just tell me the truth for once in your goddamn life.’ Suzy started to cry.

  ‘I haven’t seen Ellen since before the child was born so I’ve never seen her at all. I didn’t know what she looked like until today,’ he said flatly.

  ‘Do you support them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How do they manage?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Where does she live?’

  ‘On Main Street, I think. Her father has a butcher’s shop.’

  ‘Have you ever been in her house?’

  ‘No. I told you I’ve never seen her since we split up. She lived at home when I knew her.’

  ‘Were you having an affair with her when we were together? Were you having sex with her when you were having sex with me?’

  ‘Ah Suzy! What the hell difference does it make now? It was a long time ago. I’d broken up with her before we got engaged,’ Chris said wearily.

  ‘It makes a hell of a damn difference, you bastard! I feel used and dirty,’ Suzy raged.

  ‘For God’s sake, Suzy. You’re overreacting.’

  ‘Did she mean anything to you?’

  ‘We were . . .’ Chris searched for a word that wouldn’t cause Suzy pain. ‘We were . . . close.’

  ‘Why did you come to that party today? Did you hope to see her?’ Suzy tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

  ‘I dunno.’ Chris grimaced. He knew Suzy was frantic. He felt sorry for her. She was a good wife, she tried her best. It wasn’t her fault he was a mixed-up mess.

  ‘Look, Suzy, stop crying. Emma asked me to come. I like Emma, she’s a mate. I shouldn’t have accepted the invitation. Vincent has no intention of burying the hatchet. So forget it. I won’t be going back there. Ellen has her own life. The child doesn’t know me. I turned my back on them when I found out Ellen was pregnant. I’m not proud of what I did. I can’t go waltzing back into their lives. I’m sure that’s the last thing Ellen would want.’

  ‘Do you want to go back into their lives? Do you want to see her again?’ Suzy demanded fiercely.

  ‘No. Now forget it, I told you, OK?’ he gritted. He’d had enough of this interrogation. ‘I don’t want to see her again. It was over a long time ago.’ He squeezed his wife’s hand.

  Liar! he swore silently. More than anything else in the world, he wanted to see Ellen Munroe and his blue-eyed black-haired daughter.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A wave of nausea swept over Emma as she looked at the runny yellow egg yolk that Julie Ann was dipping soldiers of bread into. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead and she just made it to the loo to be ill.

  When it was over, she knelt on the cold hard tiles and cried her eyes out. Vincent knelt beside her, sponging her face.

  ‘Oh, Vincent, I’m pregnant. I know it. I’m four weeks over and now this. What am I going to do? I don’t want to have a baby. I don’t want another child.’ Great gasping sobs shook her body.

  ‘Maybe it’s a bug. Maybe it’s your system getting back to normal after being on the pill,’ Vincent soothed.

  ‘No. I know I’m pregnant. That night of the party. That’s when it happened. I should have been more careful. I just got confused at my counting. I thought I was still safe.’ Emma wept. Arithmetic had never been her strong point. Now she was paying the price for mixing up the dates in her cycle.

  Vincent led her into the bedroom and helped her into bed. ‘Just relax for a while. I’ll get Julie Ann off to school.’

  Emma watched him leave and then turned her head into the pillow and burst out crying again. Why was this happening to her? More than anything in the world she dreaded being pregnant and having another baby. Julie Ann was enough of a handful as it was. The thought of all those nappies and bathing and feeding and the loss of her precious freedom was more than she could bear. And the idea of being fat again filled her with disgust.

  She really couldn’t blame anyone except herself. After the party on New Year’s Day, Vincent had been extremely cool with her. He’d hardly spoken two words to her. That was most unusual for him. They rarely rowed. They’d gone to bed not talking. In the end, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She’d started to cry and he’d taken her in his arms and apologized. She’d apologized for asking Chris to the party and one thing had led to another. In the heat of passion she’d miscalculated her safe period and she’d told Vincent he didn’t need a condom. Just one little mistake and her life was ruined. This was if she was going to have a life. After the frightening drama of Julie Ann’s birth she had visions of herself at death’s door again.
It was scary. Emma sobbed uncontrollably.

  ‘Come on, Julie Ann, hurry up with your breakfast and stop messing,’ Vincent said sternly. Julie Ann pouted at his tone. In spite of himself Vincent had to smile. She was so like her mother.

  ‘Is Mummy sick, Daddy?’ She licked the egg yolk from her fingers.

  ‘She’s a bit under the weather today so I want you to wash your hands and face and get ready for school, while I put the dishes in the sink for Mrs Byrne.’

  ‘OK. Will you buy me a Trigger bar for being a good girl?’

  ‘Yes. Now go clean up.’ Vincent watched Julie Ann leave the kitchen, her blonde pigtails swinging jauntily. How would she cope with a new baby? She’d been the centre of attention for so long it would be very hard on her having to give up centre stage to a new sister or brother.

  Vincent sighed as he stacked the dishes into the sink. Maybe it was a false alarm. Although he felt that was just wishful thinking. If Emma was pregnant, they were up the creek. She couldn’t cope with another child. She couldn’t even manage Julie Ann. Poor Emma was like a child herself sometimes, he thought ruefully. Especially when a crisis occurred. But he didn’t blame her for being upset. After what she’d been through having Julie Ann it was very worrying to think of how she’d get through another birth.

  What a start to the year, he thought dispiritedly. That damn New Year’s Day party had been the start of all their troubles.

  Ben and Miriam had walked out. Lorna Mitchell had driven off without Declan and they’d heard later that she’d taken the children and left him. That was tough on poor old Declan, Vincent thought. True he might get pissed now and again but he was a nice chap, very obliging. Leaving him in the lurch was a mean thing to do. But then Lorna was an anxious restless woman. Maybe he was better off without her. From the gossip Vincent had heard, Nina Monahan was consoling Declan and she was supposed to be head over heels in love with him.