Divided Loyalties

by Patricia Scanlan

  Dan laughed. ‘You might have to expand your wardrobe. You’ve about five outfits in total.’

  ‘Exactly!’ She grinned, kissing him on the cheek. ‘I couldn’t bear the hassle of having to worry about what clothes and what accessories to wear. They even try to outdo each other in the jewellery stakes. Darlene isn’t the only one who commented on Shauna’s new “piece”.’

  ‘Shauna has a lot of jewellery all right,’ Dan said wryly. ‘I should buy you a couple of “pieces” while we’re here.’ He smiled down at her, his eyes crinkling good-humouredly in his tanned face.

  ‘Don’t be daft! We don’t have to keep up with the Joneses like Greg and Shauna do. I’d prefer you to buy me a piece as a love token rather than a trophy to flash in front of the neighbours.’ Carrie nestled into the crook of his arm and yawned. The humidity was getting to her and she was tired. Although the holiday was fun and exhilarating, the pace was unrelenting. They were going to Al Ain the following day and Shauna and Greg had a full itinerary of things to do and see planned for the weekend.

  ‘Greg’s very driven, isn’t he?’ Carrie glanced over at her brother-in-law, who was deep in conversation with a stocky, balding man with a bad comb-over.

  ‘It’s paying off. He’s loaded. They’ve ten properties at home and land in Cavan. And he’s buying a place in Dubai,’ Dan observed laconically.

  ‘We’ve land in North County Dublin,’ Carrie retorted.

  Dan laughed. ‘I suppose we have.’

  ‘And, more to the point, we’re a happy family. That counts for a lot, doesn’t it?’ She arched an eyebrow at him.

  ‘A hell of a lot. We’re lucky, aren’t we, Carrie?’ Dan’s blue eyes studied her intently.

  ‘You bet we are, Dan. I wouldn’t swap our life for all the jewels in the Orient.’

  ‘I guess we’re just two boring old codgers. Sad but true.’ He grinned at her, his teeth pearly white in the dark. His tan had deepened and he looked ruggedly handsome in his maroon Lacoste shirt and beige chinos.

  ‘Well, you’re a dead sexy boring old codger and I wish we were at home so I could ride you ragged,’ Carrie murmured longingly, running her finger along the dark hairs on his forearm.

  ‘Stop!’ he warned. ‘Don’t talk dirty to me, or I might jump on you and that would give good ole Darlene and her folks something to talk about.’

  Carrie guffawed and didn’t notice that Shauna looked at her with a wistful envy in her eyes.

  ‘You’re very quiet. What’s wrong with you?’ Greg asked as he and Shauna undressed for bed.

  ‘I’m tired. It was a long day and a long night,’ she murmured, sliding her nightdress over her head.

  ‘I think Carrie and Dan are enjoying themselves. Sorry I can’t go to Al Ain with you tomorrow. Pierre rescheduled a meeting that I just can’t get out of.’ Greg yawned as he stepped out of his trousers.

  ‘What’s new?’ Shauna said sourly.

  ‘Hey, don’t be like that, Shauna,’ he said irritably as he emptied his change onto the bedside locker and flung his trousers onto the chaise longue by the French windows.

  ‘There’s more to life than work, Greg,’ she snapped. ‘Look at us. You’re gone in the morning before I get up. You come home; we go out to a function or for dinner with other people and spend the night talking to the world and his mother. We have five minutes’ chat, maybe, at bedtime and that’s it. We’re like ships that pass in the night. I was just looking at Carrie and Dan tonight. They sat together for nearly an hour chatting and laughing, completely happy in each other’s company, and I envied them. I really envied them, Greg,’ she said reproachfully. ‘We don’t have that any more, and I miss it.’

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Shauna, the hour of the night you pick to have a conversation like this. Your timing is lousy!’ He glared at her as he flung himself down on the bed.

  ‘Don’t take the nose off me,’ she snapped back. ‘You asked me what was wrong with me and I’m telling you.’

  ‘Look,’ he said exasperatedly, ‘we’re not Carrie and Dan, we’re us, and I wish you’d stop ramming them down my neck as the perfect family and the perfect couple. There were a lot of very interesting people at that party tonight; they should have mixed and mingled more when they had the opportunity. When are they going to attend a party like that again? They can sit talking to each other at home any time.’

  ‘They did mix but they sat talking to each other as well, because to each other they are the most interesting people. That’s my point. They don’t need to go outside their marriage to be entertained. They entertain each other.’ She didn’t try to disguise her frustration. Greg had hardly spoken to her, Dan or Carrie at the party, he’d been so busy networking.

  ‘How boring for them,’ he said derisively.

  ‘Don’t be so superior.’ She couldn’t hide her disgust.

  ‘Shauna, why did you marry me?’ He sat up and eyeballed her.

  ‘I . . . I . . .’ she stuttered, surprised by his question.

  ‘Why did you marry me? What attracted you to me?’ he persisted.

  ‘I liked it that you were outgoing and fun-loving . . . different from what I’d grown up with,’ she admitted sulkily.

  ‘Well, I haven’t changed,’ he said coldly.

  ‘Yes you have, Greg, you don’t have time for me any more, you don’t have time for Chloe, all you care about is impressing the so-called big guys and making money—’

  ‘Money so that you and Chloe can have a very comfortable lifestyle,’ he interrupted angrily. ‘What’s wrong with that, for crying out loud? I haven’t heard you complaining before.’

  ‘There’s more to life, Greg,’ she argued.

  ‘You didn’t think so when we met first. You were into making money as much as I was.’ His eyes were like flints, hard and cold.

  ‘Things change. We’ve a child to consider. I’ve changed. My needs have changed,’ she retorted, trying not to let her voice shake. She hated having rows with Greg. It made her feel sick. It reminded her of the bad old days when she had to stand up for herself to Noel. Even though she hadn’t flinched from it, it had always left her shaking afterwards. She could feel that old familiar quiver in her tummy that brought her right back to childhood, and was half sorry she’d started the argument.

  ‘Yes, you have changed.’ Greg was snarling at her. ‘You’re never satisfied. You’ve turned into a moany, needy nag and I’m getting tired of it.’ He lay down and turned his back on her.

  ‘You’re a bastard, Greg. That was totally uncalled for.’ Shauna felt tears smarting in her eyes. She was shocked at his vehemence and his uncharacteristic viciousness.

  He remained stubbornly silent.

  Unwilling to let him see her cry she stalked into the en suite and closed the door behind her. They’d had their rows before but this was a new low. She rested her forehead against the cool oyster-coloured tiles. He was right about one thing: her timing was lousy. There was nothing worse than having to pretend that everything was all right in front of visitors, when everything was very, very wrong.

  Greg lay in bed fuming. Was there no pleasing the bloody woman? He worked his ass off to buy her jewellery and clothes that cost an arm and a leg, and to provide her with luxury homes and a great lifestyle, and what thanks did he get for it? Damn all. Instead he got plodding, boring Dan and Carrie shoved down his neck as role models for a marriage. If he had to descend to their level of dull he’d hang himself, he thought angrily as he pummelled his pillow into a more comfortable shape.

  He supposed he was lucky she hadn’t started on him about having a baby again. He’d bought himself some breathing space there. Nice and all as Hannah was, having her around 24/7 just brought back bad memories of high chairs in restaurants, and a social life arranged around nap times and feeding times, and cranky crying when tiredness got the better of her. If there was one thing this visit of Shauna’s family had confirmed for him it was that he emphatically did not want another child. He hadn’t
the patience for children. He had no empathy with them and that was the honest truth.

  Chloe got up his nose with her whining, which seemed to be getting worse. When she was good she was gorgeous, but he didn’t want any more kids. Why should he have to apologize for that? He wasn’t Saint Dan and the sooner Shauna realized that and stopped trying to make him feel like a heel the better.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t like his brother-in-law, he mused. Dan was an OK guy and intelligent with it, but he was happy to work away on his market gardening business and spend time with his family and as far as Greg could see that was the height of his ambition. He’d find that stultifyingly boring. He needed to push himself, to challenge himself to even greater success. If he lost that hunger and drive he might as well give up. If Shauna loved him she’d accept that as part and parcel of who he was.

  What a bummer of a way to end the evening. He’d been so proud watching his wife show off her new jewellery. She’d looked stunning with her blond hair swept up in a classy chignon and that gorgeous crimson dress showing off her great chassis. He’d enjoyed seeing the flashes of admiration in other men’s eyes and the spark of envy in the women’s. This lifestyle was his forte, this was where he shone, and it had given him pleasure to show Carrie and Dan how far he and Shauna had come. He’d thought his wife felt the same. She’d seemed to really enjoy showing them all the sights and delights of this multi-faceted country.

  And then she hits him with this! Out of the blue. How could he be so off beam? Couldn’t Shauna see that he only wanted the best for them? What was so awful about that? It was just as well that he wasn’t going to Al Ain with them tomorrow. He wouldn’t be able to keep a civil tongue in his head with her, he was so pissed off with her ingratitude.

  He heard the bathroom door open and Shauna padding over to the bed. He turned away and pulled over to the far edge of the mattress. Right now he wanted nothing to do with his wife. If she’d kicked him in the balls it wouldn’t have hurt as much as this did. He attempted to focus his thoughts on the strategy meeting he had to attend in the morning. It was important that he make a good impression. At least it would take his mind off his domestic problems, he thought grimly, wishing that he could go asleep. But sleep was hard to come by and he tossed and turned restlessly, wondering how his and Shauna’s paths could have diverged so drastically without his even realizing it.

  25

  ‘Happy Easter, Noel.’

  ‘And the same to you, Mrs O’Neill.’ Noel tried his best to appear cheerful but he was feeling very lonely indeed. The last week seemed to have crawled by. He’d developed a heavy cold on his chest and hadn’t been able to go bowling or, even worse, take part in the Easter church ceremonies.

  ‘This is for you.’ His neighbour handed him a big Malteser Easter egg.

  ‘Good heavens! Er . . . thanks very much, but I’m afraid I don’t have one for you.’ He was completely flustered.

  Mrs O’Neill gave a hearty chuckle. ‘It’s all right, Noel, I didn’t buy you one either. This is from Carrie and the children. She asked me to keep it for you until Easter Sunday. She told me you had a great fondness for Maltesers.’

  ‘Indeed I do. Wasn’t that good of them, all the same?’ he exclaimed, touched at his daughter’s kindness.

  ‘She’s a great girl,’ Mrs O’Neill agreed.

  ‘She’ll be ringing me shortly. She thinks I was at half ten Mass—’

  ‘And you let her go on thinking it,’ his neighbour warned. ‘We don’t want her holiday spoilt worrying about a little cold.’

  ‘Oh now, it’s more than a cold, I’m afraid. It’s gone into my chest. And the antibiotics aren’t clearing it up. It could turn to pneumonia or pleurisy if it’s not something more sinister,’ he said gravely.

  ‘Now stop that nonsense, Noel. You’ve got a cold,’ Mrs O’Neill said briskly. ‘Go inside and I’ll make you a cup of tea. Are you all right for your dinner today? Did you defrost one of Carrie’s frozen ones?’

  ‘No, her sister-in-law Sadie is bringing me over a turkey dinner. That’s if I can eat it.’ He led the way into the kitchen.

  ‘You’ll be well hungry for it if you don’t eat too many Maltesers,’ Mrs O’Neill assured him as she bustled into the kitchen and put on the kettle. ‘Would you like a slice of toast or a biscuit with your tea?’

  ‘Sure I’ll try a piece of toast. I’ve lost my appetite over the past few days, but I suppose I need to keep my strength up.’

  ‘Indeed you do,’ Mrs O’Neill told him. ‘I always knew when my Ted was really sick. He’d lose his appetite completely. That’s when I’d start to worry. And to think he died, hit by a drunken driver and him a teetotaller all his life. Life’s very strange, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is, Mrs O’Neill,’ he agreed, sitting down at the kitchen table. Twiskers hopped up onto his lap.

  ‘That cat is terrible fond of you.’ She studied the pair of them.

  ‘Just as well someone is.’ Noel stroked Twiskers’s velvety head.

  ‘Ah don’t be saying things like that. Haven’t you three lovely children and four precious grandchildren?’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ He sighed.

  ‘Of course I’m right,’ she retorted crisply. Noel was really feeling sorry for himself, she thought with wry amusement as she popped a piece of bread under the grill. Typical man. ‘How’s Bobby getting on? He hasn’t been home in a long time. Is he doing well for himself over yonder?’ she asked chattily.

  ‘All right, I suppose,’ Noel said gruffly, his lips thinning.

  ‘You suppose?’ She looked at him in surprise. ‘Do you not keep in touch?’

  ‘Don’t be asking me questions like that,’ he grumbled.

  ‘Well I didn’t mean to pry, Noel. I’m sorry if you felt I was.’ Mrs O’Neill wasn’t at all abashed at his rebuke. She was used to his pernickety ways.

  ‘We don’t get on too well,’ Noel explained, regretting his crankiness.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Noel. I always thought he was a lovely lad.’ She poured the boiling water into the teapot and gave it a swirl.

  ‘Oh, you might think that. But I’ve had terrible trouble with him,’ Noel confided, rubbing his hands agitatedly. He was starting to show his age, Mrs O’Neill observed as she watched him slumped in his chair. His hair was thinning, and the liver spots on his knobbly hands had darkened. There was an egg stain on his bottle green pullover and a snag in his grey trousers. Men weren’t able to cope with being widowed like women were, she thought stoically as she let him unburden himself.

  ‘No-one knows the worry and upset I’ve endured because of him. It put a terrible strain on his mother, God rest her. I think she’d still be alive, only for him.’ It all came tumbling out in a torrent of confession.

  ‘Why? What did he do?’ she asked, shocked at this revelation.

  ‘Ach, he caused us nothing but worry. You know the way he carries on.’

  ‘Well I’ve never noticed anything out of the ordinary.’ She frowned, buttering the crispy brown toast, wondering what on earth Noel could be referring to. She always remembered Bobby as a mischievous, irrepressible little chap who’d grown up to be a very nice young man. He had been Anna’s pride and joy. She’d doted on him.

  ‘He’s . . . he’s . . . he’s not like other fellows,’ Noel mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

  ‘Noel, are you trying to tell me that he’s gay?’ Mrs O’Neill said incredulously as comprehension dawned.

  ‘Yes, if you want to put it like that.’ Noel fidgeted in his chair, wishing he were a million miles away.

  ‘Ah for goodness’ sake, is that all?’ His neighbour placed the hot buttered toast in front of him. ‘I knew that from when he was a little lad. You’d know by the prancing around of him, for goodness’ sake.’

  Noel couldn’t believe his ears. He’d expected her to be shocked and sympathetic, not . . . not matter-of-fact and unaffected. ‘You’re very blasé about it,’ he accused, annoyed at her reactio
n. How dare she make such light of so distressing a revelation? ‘How would you like it if it was one of your lads?’ he demanded truculently as he fed Twiskers a piece of toast.

  ‘It wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference to me, Noel. If that’s the way they’re made, there’s nothing you and I can do about it.’ She poured the tea and sat down at the table opposite him. ‘Don’t tell me you’re holding that against the poor lad?’

  ‘Well it’s . . . unnatural . . . it’s a very unchristian way of life,’ he blustered.

  ‘Who says so?’ she challenged.

  ‘Good heavens, Mrs O’Neill! The Church says so.’ Noel brushed back a stray strand of grey hair that had flopped over his eye and stared at her in dismay.

  ‘That lot, that shower in the Vatican,’ she snorted. ‘They’re fine ones to talk. Half of them don’t have a bit of Christianity in them. Going on with the nonsense they go on with. All them old lads wearing their funny hats and flowing robes and living in palaces, issuing rules and regulations. You can’t take communion here; you can’t take communion there. We’re the real Church. The rest of you are only impostors. What did that “Prince of the Church” down in Dublin say about sharing communion?’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘“A sham”, that’s it. Sharing communion was a sham! There’s Christianity for you. Do you think that Jesus would say that, Noel?’ She eyed him sternly.

  ‘Ah well now, the Cardinal’s a very learned man. He knows these things,’ Noel explained patiently.

  ‘Tosh, Noel,’ she scoffed, unimpressed. ‘If you call that learning, you can keep it as far as I’m concerned. Did you ever hear such childish nonsense? And look at the way women were treated, and still are. There’s no equality in the Church for women, Noel, and us all supposed to be made equal in God’s image and likeness—’

  ‘You can’t be saying things like that, Mrs O’Neill,’ Noel spluttered in consternation. ‘Women have their place too.’ He had thought his neighbour was a God-fearing righteous woman. She was sitting opposite him talking . . . heresy.