‘Ah Doug, please tell me.’
‘Nope.’
Ellen leaned over and tugged at the beard on the side of his cheek. Because it was neatly clipped it was hard to get a good grip but she gave him a wigging nevertheless.
‘You can torture me all you like. I’m not telling you.’ Doug laughed.
‘You’re so stubborn.’
‘That’s me. You’ll have a surprise when you see it. But it’s really, really nice . . .’ he teased.
‘For that you can do the washing-up.’ She stood up, ready to leave.
‘No problem, Harry and I are very domesticated. What time do you want to go to Swords at?’
‘Would eight be OK? I’ll have Stephanie in bed by then.’
‘Yeah, fine.’ He looked at her. ‘Why not go earlier and bring her with us? It would be a great surprise for her,’ he suggested.
‘That’s a lovely idea. She’d be chuffed.’
‘Right. What time then?’
‘Six?’
‘See ya then.’
That evening, as she cycled over to Miriam’s to collect Stephanie, she smiled thinking of Doug’s thoughtfulness. He was very good with Stephanie. He had a way with kids. That girlfriend of his was a complete fool to have let him go. He was dead nice and she really felt she’d found a friend. She cycled faster. She was dying to see the car. She didn’t stop for her usual gossip when she got to Miriam’s.
‘I’m galloping.’ She puffed. ‘Doug’s friend has a car for me to look at so Doug’s bringing us to Swords to see it. I’ll call in later and tell you all about it,’ she informed her sister-in-law who was setting the table for tea. ‘Quick, Stephanie,’ she called out the back door.
‘Are you going to Emma’s grandmother’s funeral?’ Miriam asked.
‘Oh probably. Look I’ll talk to you later. Don’t think I’m being rude but I have to fly. Doug’s waiting.’ Ellen ushered Stephanie out the door ahead of her. ‘See you later.’ She never noticed that Miriam looked troubled.
‘Where are we going, Mammy?’ Stephanie asked as Ellen lifted her on to the carrier.
‘It’s a surprise.’ Ellen smiled and kissed the top of Stephanie’s head. She got on the bike and pedalled furiously, eager to get back to the flat where Doug was waiting.
He’d washed and changed out of his working clothes and was all ready to go.
‘Hiya Doug.’ Stephanie hurled herself at him.
‘Hi Steffi.’ Doug pulled her pigtail affectionately.
‘Where are we goin’?’
‘Wait and see.’
They got into Doug’s cream van. Ellen was as excited as her daughter. Ten minutes later they drew into the forecourt of Rafferty’s garage on the outskirts of Swords. A gleaming smart little white car with a For Sale sign caught her eye.
‘Is that it?’
‘Yep.’
‘Oh Doug it’s gorgeous!’ she breathed. ‘I’m dying to have a look at her.’
‘A look at what, Mammy?’ Stephanie didn’t know what all the fuss was about.
‘See that little car over there? I might be going to buy it for us.’
‘Yippee,’ Stephanie hollered. A car! Now they’d be like her cousins with their cars and Julie Ann wouldn’t be able to say, ‘You’ve no car and we’ve got two.’ Their own home and a car. It was just brill.
‘Let’s have a look at it,’ Doug suggested.
It was in immaculate condition and, while Doug and his friend poked around under the bonnet, Ellen and Stephanie sat in it and explored the interior. Ellen tried out the gears and studied the manual that came with the car.
‘Do you want to take it for a trial run?’ Doug stuck his head through the open window.
‘Can we?’
‘Yeah, here’s the keys. Let’s go.’ He handed her the keys and helped Stephanie into the back and got in beside Ellen. ‘OK, let’s hit the road.’
Ellen was nervous as she started the ignition. But her apprehension soon turned to exhilaration as she steered onto the main road and put her foot down.
‘Let’s go as far as the back of the airport,’ Doug suggested and Ellen daringly increased her speed to thirty m.p.h.
An hour later, she’d put a deposit on her first car. It was one of the proudest moments of her life. Doug had assured her that it was mechanically sound and she was getting it at a good price. She was glad to have him to rely on because she wouldn’t have known from Adam whether the car was mechanically sound or not. It looked lovely inside and out but it was reassuring to know that everything was in good condition under the bonnet.
‘Thanks for everything, Doug. I really love it,’ Ellen said later, when he dropped her and Stephanie home. ‘Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?’
‘I won’t, Ellen, thanks. I’ve to collect some timber from a fella in Drogheda and I’ll have to bring him out for a pint. I’ll see you tomorrow. OK?’
‘OK and thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Doug smiled and once again she was struck by his good nature. Doug had a niceness about him that was genuine.
‘See you tomorrow.’ She stood at the front door waving after him while Stephanie rushed in to tell her grandfather that they were going to buy a car.
Mick was delighted and was full of questions about mileage and horsepower and petrol consumption. Ellen was, thanks to Doug, able to answer knowledgeably. Her father was impressed.
Sheila was at a guild meeting. She wasn’t as frosty these days but she hadn’t taken any interest in the renovations of the flat and had not taken up Ellen’s invitation to come and have a look. She’d probably have something to say about Ellen frittering away her savings on a car but Ellen didn’t care. She’d saved hard over the year. She wasn’t a spendthrift. It was the first luxury she’d had since Stephanie was born and, once they were installed in their new home, she’d start saving again.
After she’d put Stephanie to bed Ellen decided to visit Miriam. She was dying to share her good news with her.
‘Dad, I’m going to pop over to Miriam’s for an hour. Stephanie’s asleep. She was whacked out. Is that OK?’ she asked her father who was reading his paper beside the fire.
‘Right, see you later,’ Mick said.
Ellen went over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thanks, Da, for everything you’ve done for me. I could never have managed without you.’
‘You’d have done fine. But I’m glad you’re going to have a place of your own. It’s the best for you and Stephanie.’ Mick patted her shoulder. ‘Do you want the car?’
‘No thanks. I’ll cycle. It’s good exercise.’ Ellen fastened her coat and put on her gloves.
‘Mind yourself on that bike, there’s a very bad pothole over by Red Barn’s Hill. We don’t want you coming a cropper.’
‘I’ll be careful,’ Ellen promised.
As she cycled along in the dark, with just the stars and silver moon to light her way, Ellen was almost exuberant. This was the best year she’d had in a long time. Her life was changing completely. All the old hurt and pain and anger and resentment seemed to have faded away. Her thoughts were too full of her new home, and now her new car, to dwell in the past. The old days of depression and oppression had lifted. She was in control again and it was an immensely satisfying feeling.
‘Hi, Miriam,’ she greeted her sister-in-law cheerily, ten minutes later.
‘Hiya, Ellen come in.’ Miriam was sitting beside the kitchen fire sewing a patch on Daniel’s jeans. The house was quiet, the children were in bed. Ben was working late. The lamplight and flickering flames gave a welcoming snug feeling. Ellen hung up her coat and looked forward to a chat and a cuppa.
‘Wait until I tell you my news.’
‘What?’ Miriam grinned. Ellen was in great form. It was lovely to see her back to her old self.
‘I’ve put a deposit on a gorgeous white Triumph Dolomite. Oh Miriam, she’s a little beauty. I’m so excited.’ She did a little twirl around the kitchen.
‘That’s great, Ellen.
I can’t keep up with all this good fortune.’
‘I can’t either. I can’t believe all the things that are happening. Doug came with me. He said it’s a good buy. Did I ever think I’d see the day when I’d have my own car and my own home?’ she bubbled.
‘Let’s have a cup of tea. I’ll put the kettle on. Throw a few logs on the fire there and we’ll have a natter,’ Miriam ordered.
They sat by the fire, Miriam listening as Ellen told her about the central heating and the partitioned kitchen and dining-room. And how Doug had told her that she could start decorating shortly.
‘I’ll help with the papering and painting. We’ll have it done in no time.’ Miriam topped up their mugs and offered Ellen another scone.
Ellen shook her head. ‘I’m too excited to eat.’
‘My God, Munroe, I’ve never heard you say anything like that before.’ Miriam laughed. ‘You’re looking great. That weight loss really suits you and your hair is gorgeous like that.’
‘I’ve been so busy with the flat and everything. Food just doesn’t seem important any more.’
‘I wish I could think like that.’ Miriam sighed. ‘All I do is eat.’
‘When I move over to Glenree, why don’t we make a date that you come over to me twice a week after tea? Walk over. I won’t be able to go out as much now, because I won’t have Ma and Da to babysit. It would be good exercise for you.’
‘Yeah. Maybe I will,’ Miriam agreed.
‘No maybes about it.’
‘Listen, Ellen,’ Miriam said hesitantly. ‘Your mother phoned me to tell me about Emma’s grandmother. Umm . . . are you going to the funeral?’
Ellen raised her eyes to heaven. ‘Oh she was on at me this morning, saying we had to support Vincent. You know Ma! She wants to make a good impression on the Connollys. I suppose I better go, although to be perfectly honest, as you well know, I couldn’t give a hoot about Emma or her grandmother. I’ll go for the sake of peace.’
‘Do you think it’s a good idea?’ Miriam asked delicately.
‘Well I can’t really win, can I? If I don’t go, Ma will think I’m the worst in the world and if I do go, Emma will probably think I’m a hypocrite.’
Miriam took a deep breath. She couldn’t figure Ellen out. Surely it must have dawned on her that Chris would be there. ‘How do you feel about seeing Chris?’ she asked.
‘What!’ Ellen looked startled.
‘Well I’m sure he’ll be there. He’s her grandson after all.’
Ellen was stunned. The thought hadn’t even entered her head. She’d been so consumed with all that was going on these past few weeks, Chris had been the last person on her mind, she realized with a little shock. She’d often imagined seeing him at some family gathering, and had she not been so occupied with all her plans it would have been the first thing she’d thought of. Maybe she was over him. It was a liberating thought!
‘I don’t think you should bother going,’ Miriam murmured.
Ellen’s light-hearted exuberance faded. For years she’d waited for an opportunity like this. A chance to see Chris Wallace again. In her dreams she’d imagined him looking into her eyes after being so long apart and realizing that he really did love her. She was a fool she knew. Chris didn’t give a damn about her. He’d cut her out of his life with a callous ruthlessness that had caused her immense suffering. Why would she want to revive all those hurts especially now that her life seemed to have turned around so wonderfully?
‘Blast Emma and her goddamn grandmother,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Why go and upset yourself?’ Miriam asked gently. ‘Leave the past where it belongs.’
‘Yeah, maybe you’re right,’ Ellen said flatly. ‘I think I’ll go home and have an early night. I’m bushed.’
‘It’s terrific news about the car.’ Miriam tried to restore Ellen’s good humour.
‘I’m delighted.’ Ellen smiled with false gaiety. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for supper.’
She left the warmth of Miriam’s kitchen with regret. Her evening was spoilt. The past had come rushing back, swamping her joie de vivre. Tormenting her with conflicting emotions and desires. Should she go? Should she stay? Whatever she did, she’d regret it. If she went and saw Chris and he ignored her or was coolly polite, it would kill her. If she didn’t go she’d always wonder had fate given her a chance and she’d ignored it.
Mick was in bed and Sheila wasn’t home, for which Ellen was very grateful. She made herself a cup of hot chocolate and sat beside the still glowing fire. Only the steady ticking of the old carriage clock broke the silence. The aromatic smell of recently cooked brown bread lingered. The ticking and the smell she associated with her childhood. Some things never changed. And some things did, she mused. Miriam was right, the past was the past. Let it go. She drank her hot chocolate, washed and dried her cup and slipped upstairs to bed.
Sleep eluded her. She heard her mother come in and go through the routine of closing down the house for the night. A routine that hadn’t changed in more than forty years.
Ellen lay in bed and all the old bitterness sharpened its teeth on her. Chris was probably hoping that she’d stay away. It would be much easier for him if she did. He’d never had to face up to the consequences of his actions. As far as he was concerned Stephanie didn’t exist.
Fuck him, she thought angrily. He’d got away too easy. Too damn easy. He always had. Well she wasn’t going to hide away as if she was a pariah. She was going to go to that service tomorrow and she was going to look a million bloody dollars. And so was Stephanie. Let him see that they’d managed perfectly well without him. Let him see what a little beauty his daughter was . . . and eat his heart out for what he’d missed.
She lay in the dark imagining their reunion, imagining the stunned surprise on her ex-lover’s face when she walked up to shake hands with the bereaved family, as was the custom. Let him feel embarrassed . . . she would hold her head up high.
Sheila was agitated. Miriam had led her to believe that Ellen wasn’t coming to the removal of the remains, so why was she getting out of the car with Mick at four-thirty in the afternoon instead of coming home at six as she usually did? And why was Stephanie with her? Ellen couldn’t possibly be going . . . and with Stephanie! Sheila felt a hot flush start at the base of her neck and work its way right to the top of her scalp. In the name of God what could she be thinking of?
Maybe she had come home early to take care of Stephanie because Ben and Miriam were going to the service. That was it. Of course. Sheila felt almost faint with relief. Then she noticed that Ellen had had her hair styled. She watched with dread as her daughter and granddaughter walked towards the door.
‘Hurry up now, Stephanie, wash your face and hands and I’ve left your good pink dress on the bed. Change into it when you’re ready,’ she heard Ellen say as they came into the house.
Stephanie galloped upstairs. She adored outings.
‘You’re not bringing Stephanie to the church? She’s a bit young. Why don’t you stay at home and go to the funeral yourself tomorrow if you feel you need to? Actually thinking about it, there’s no need for you to go at all. Emma will understand that your father has to have someone look after the business for him,’ Sheila said lightly, as if she’d just thought of it.
‘She’s dying to go. Julie Ann’s been boasting about how important she’s going to be because she’s to put Mass cards on the coffin. There was a row going on over in Miriam’s about which of their three was going to put their Mass card on the coffin, and Stephanie is determined she’s not going to be left out. So we might as well go,’ Ellen declared. ‘Anyway I don’t want Emma saying I’ve snubbed her by not going. I’ll just run upstairs and change.’
Sheila bit her lip. There was no answer to that. She’d been hoisted by her own petard. If she turned around and said bluntly to Ellen that she didn’t want her or Stephanie to go because of their situation, Ellen would explode. Mick would probably take
her side. If Sheila made an issue of it there’d be another row with him and that was the last thing she wanted. The best thing to do was to say nothing and put up with it. But it was most distressing, she thought crossly as she fastened her best cameo brooch to the lapel of her coat and stood to admire her reflection in the big ornate gilt-edged mirror that hung on the wall.
Ellen slipped out of her skirt and jumper, had a quick wash and put on a straight pencil-slim skirt and a black polo jumper. It was a very slimming outfit and she was very pleased with herself. Losing that stone had made such a difference. She made up her face with extra care, outlining her eyes with a light grey kohl pencil after she’d applied her eyeshadow. She patted powder over her foundation and sucked in her cheeks to add a touch of blusher. Finally a shading of Health Glow lipstick and a generous spray of Blue Grass.
Ellen stood back to view herself critically, after all it was nearly seven years since he’d last seen her. She’d been pregnant then. Her hair worn long. She’d been pale and distressed and pleading.
No, she was not that girl today. She’d been tempered by hardship. She was much stronger than that frightened, desperate young woman. Now she was independent and in control. She was much slimmer. Still curvy, but in a more elegant way. Her hair was short and sophisticated, shiny and sleek after coming from the hairdresser’s. Her hazel eyes sparkled with anticipation.
‘Yes, baby. I got over you,’ she muttered.
‘Liar!’ her inner voice taunted. ‘Why are you dolling yourself up to the nines? Why does it matter?’
It was pride, she told herself. Just pride. But she couldn’t look herself in the eye.
‘Mammy, will you do my hair, please?’ Ellen was grateful for the interruption. She didn’t want to be thinking dangerous, upsetting thoughts.
‘You look lovely, pet,’ she praised her daughter as she brushed her silky black hair and secured it high up on her head in a pony-tail. She brushed down her fringe and smiled at the solemn blue eyes staring up at her. Ellen felt a huge rush of protective love for her little girl. She was so innocent and trusting. When she was younger she’d often asked about her daddy and Ellen had told her that he lived far away and that there was just Mammy to take care of her. But that Grandad, especially, and Uncle Ben and Uncle Vincent were minding her too. This had always reassured Stephanie and, so far, not having a father did not seem to be a huge problem. That would come when she was older. That and the difficult, searching questions that would have to be answered honestly.
Promises, Promises Page 36
