Finishing Touches

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Mam, would you do me the honour?’ He smiled down at her.

  ‘I’d be delighted, son,’ Nora smiled back, allowing him to lead her onto the dance-floor to join her daughters in the first dance of the wedding.

  Judy O’Shaughnessy felt a horrible prickly heat suffuse her body and she broke out in a sweat. Excusing herself from the table she slipped quietly from the function room and went into the ladies’ rest room. A quick glance around showed that she was the only one there. Entering one of the cubicles, she vomited as quietly as she could. It was her third time today. When it was over she bathed her face in cold water and rested her hot forehead against the cool tiles.

  As far as she could make out, Andrew had not noticed her indisposition. He was having a ball! The life and soul of the party as usual. Her boyfriend really had a great capacity for enjoying himself. But then, he was such good company, so attractive and self-assured. Sometimes Judy wondered what he saw in her. She knew he loved her naturally blond curling hair and he loved the reaction of other men when they walked into a function arm in arm. He enjoyed the fact that other men desired her. It was a turn-on for him, he admitted. Andrew told her once that she was very soothing to be with; he hated argumentative women. Judy had been terribly flattered.

  They had been together for over two years now and she had been living with him for the past six months, although her mother would have another nervous breakdown if she knew that. It was very wearing on the nerves, actually. Mrs Jordan had been very cool to her and Judy suspected that Barbara had spilt the beans about her co-habiting with Andrew. It was a bit mean of Barbara. If Ian had not moved into the flat, Judy would have been quite happy to stay there but it had been downright embarrassing at times walking unsuspectingly into the sitting-room and finding the pair of them mauling each other and kissing and cuddling. In the end, she had spent most of her time up in her bedroom and one night she had been moaning to Andrew and he had suggested she move into his penthouse in Sutton. She loved that penthouse with its huge airy rooms and spectacular views over Dublin Bay. Andrew was an extremely wealthy young man. He came from an affluent background, his family were bankers and he himself owned and managed a very successful PR firm.

  Andrew was always entertaining clients and because she was well used to meeting people through her job, Judy had no difficulty mingling and making small-talk and occasionally acting as his hostess. Andrew was most generous and lavished gifts of clothes and jewellery on her, despite her protests.

  ‘You’re mad! Let him give you presents and take them while the going is good,’ Barbara said enviously when she tried on the emerald-and-diamond dress-ring that Andrew had given her last Christmas. Judy nearly died but Andrew just laughed at her protests and said that was one of the things he liked about her, that she hadn’t a mercenary bone in her body.

  Judy looked at the ring on her right hand, glinting under the fluorescent light. It might be the last present he’d be giving her the way things were going, and Angela O’Shaughnessy would no doubt suffer the mother of all nervous breakdowns if past behaviour was anything to go by. Sighing deeply, Judy retouched her make-up and sprayed some Magie Noire on her neck and wrists before rejoining the celebrations.

  Laura Quinn was really enjoying herself at this wedding, so unlike her own stressful day two and a half years before. It was great not to have to worry about wedding cakes and seating arrangements, and she had been looking forward to this occasion ever since the invitation had landed through her letterbox. Just as well it was being held on a Saturday, though. She would have had a hell of a job getting a day off from work. Just thinking about work made her blood boil.

  It was an understatement to say that Laura was not entirely happy with her apprenticeship in William Bennett Solicitors. The men who had been taken on with her had cushy numbers while she spent her time running around like a lunatic making sure everything she did was perfect and that she always met her deadlines, no matter how unreasonable. The partners in charge of each of the different sections where Laura spent some time were much tougher on her and the other female apprentices than on the men. There was a saying that women had to be twice as good as men to succeed, and it was certainly true of her job.

  But today wasn’t the day to be thinking of work. She was having far too much fun. It was great to see the girls again. She had missed them so much. Cassie was looking terrific, so different from the pale, drawn depressed person she had been after she broke off her engagement with Robbie. She was so much more confident and in control of things. This interior design course she was doing had given her a whole new lease of life. And Aileen too was in tip-top form, back to her zany, bubbling self and so glamorous. They were going to have a night together before the girls went back.

  Laura sat back comfortably in her chair and sipped her Bacardi and Coke. Doug was up dancing with Mrs Jordan. He was really good like that and she loved him for it. Doug had a caring considerate side that few saw except herself. She was very happy being married to him. She had never thought marriage could be so totally satisfying. Theirs was a real partnership. Doug was as anxious for her to succeed as she was for him. And succeed she would. Laura Quinn would carve out a successful legal career for herself, come hell or high water.

  ‘Cheer up! You’re at a wedding, not a funeral!’ her husband remonstrated, interrupting her reflections. ‘I know, you’re afraid I’m going to start an affair with Mrs Jordan. You’re jealous!’

  ‘Idiot!’ laughed Laura.

  ‘Would you care to dance with an idiot?’ Doug teased, his eyes warm as he gazed at his wife with unconcealed admiration.

  ‘I’d love to dance with an idiot,’ Laura said huskily. He took her into his arms and held her close as the music changed to a soft, romantic song and they danced cheek to cheek.

  Thirty-Two

  ‘Are you OK, Mam? Would you or Aunt Elsie or Mrs Saunders like another drink?’ Cassie asked her mother as she took a breather from the dance-floor.

  ‘Maybe I’ll have another Babycham and you could get a glass of lemon and lime for your aunt and a sherry for Mrs Saunders.’ Nora smiled at her eldest daughter. ‘Do you think it’s going all right? Did everybody get enough to eat, do you think?’

  ‘Everybody had plenty and it’s going fine,’ Cassie reassured her. Personally she felt that the food in the Port Mahon Arms was just as good and it would have cost only half the price. But Barbara had wanted her posh Dublin hotel and, being Barbara, she had got it!

  Mind, the wedding was much better fun than she had anticipated. Cassie grinned to herself. Of course when she, Aileen and Laura got together what else could they have but fun? When they got to the church and saw Ian in his top-hat and tails, the three of them had got a fit of the giggles which was not helped when Aileen whispered, ‘Tom Selleck, eat your heart out.’ She had kept up a whispered running commentary from the moment Barbara had arrived at the church in her white frills and flounces.

  Of course, Cassie wouldn’t hurt her sister’s feelings for the world but when she saw the dress for the first time that morning she thought to herself, Uh ooohh! It was way over the top with its ruffles and flounces, and Barbara, who was small and skinny, was quite lost in it. But she loved it and she was the one wearing it, so Cassie kept her mouth shut. Irene looked a dream in her ballerina-length bridesmaid’s dress, with her long blond curls entwined with flowers.

  Nora, too, looked very chic in her yellow-and-black two-piece with a little veiled hat perched jauntily on her head. Cassie and she had taken a day in Dublin when she was home at Easter and searched from one end of the city to the other before settling on the outfit that had caught her eye in Madame Nora’s. After buying the bag, shoes, and hat in Clerys, they had had a celebratory lunch in the Gresham and Nora had enjoyed her day in town immensely.

  Cassie knew today was a hard day for her mother. The first wedding in the family and Jack not there to share it with her. And Aunt Elsie sitting there moaning about everything. Although now in her se
venties and getting frailer as the years went by, Elsie still had an indomitable spirit and a voice to speak with, a voice she used many times that day until Cassie and John were nearly ready to strangle her. Cassie had offered to drive her home after the meal if she didn’t want to sit and listen to the band but Elsie was having none of it.

  ‘Here I am and here I’ll stay. It would be the height of bad manners to leave before the bride!’

  Cassie felt her aunt was enjoying herself thoroughly. She got the drinks that her mother ordered and went back to join the girls. At least Mrs Saunders, a great friend of her mother’s, was there to give Nora a lift. The relations were all coming to greet her, so she wasn’t too worried about her being short of company. Poor Mr and Mrs Murray, Ian’s parents, were totally overawed by the whole occasion and Barbara wasn’t making much of an effort to mingle with his family, being too concerned with dancing attendance on Noreen Varling and her cronies. Well, Cassie decided, it wasn’t her problem and she was going back to the girls to have a bit of a laugh.

  Laura’s husband had just asked Aileen to dance.

  ‘Poor Doug!’ smirked Aileen. ‘He really got the rough end of the stick having to do these duty dances with his wife’s poor spinster friends. He’s a real gentleman!’

  Doug guffawed. ‘Some spinsters, and every man in the room drooling over the pair of you. Get out there, O’Shaughnessy, and let’s show these people how to dance.’

  Aileen sashayed on to the dance-floor and began to boogie.

  Laura burst out laughing. ‘Would you look at that one! She hasn’t changed one bit from when we were in Saint Imelda’s.’

  ‘Thank God,’ laughed Cassie. ‘We need someone like Aileen around. Speaking of Saint Imelda’s I met Sister Eileen the other day. She’s still the same as ever. She was a dote, wasn’t she?’

  Laura nodded. ‘We had great fun there. It was a good old school all the same, in spite of Mother Perpetua. We gave her an awful time, didn’t we?’

  Cassie laughed. ‘Yeah, we sure did. We were little horrors and we thought we knew it all. Remember that priest who had the misfortune to give us a retreat?’

  ‘An experience the poor man never forgot, I’d say,’ smiled Laura as Aileen danced her way over to the table.

  ‘Come on! Stop sitting there like two ould wans having a natter and get up and dance. Doug says he’s man enough for three of us!’

  ‘Is he, now?’ grinned Cassie. ‘Come on, Laura, let’s get out there and strut our stuff!’

  ‘I’ve never danced so much in my life,’ she confessed about two hours later, as she and Aileen went out on the balcony to get some air.

  ‘So I noticed!’ grinned the redhead. ‘You’re getting on very well with Anthony Wilson,’ she added slyly. ‘Are we going to have another detective in the family?’

  Anthony Wilson was a detective friend of Ian’s, and Cassie and he had hit it off.

  ‘Don’t be daft! And besides, you can’t talk. You’re getting on very well indeed with Detective Hammond, if I’m not mistaken.’

  ‘Hmm,’ agreed Aileen, ‘he’s a bit of a dish, isn’t he? Six foot two, eyes of blue and gorgeous chestnut hair and you know how I like manly men? And Cassie, you know something else? He’s got a hairy chest! What more could a girl want?’ Aileen giggled. She was ever so slightly tipsy.

  ‘How do you know that?’ Cassie laughed.

  ‘Well, he took off his tie and opened his top two shirt buttons and I could see a gorgeous dark shadow of brown hair. Oooh, I can’t wait to get my hands on it. Who would have thought that Ian Murray would have such good-looking friends? Come on, let’s get back, in case Noreen Varling and her band of admirers snaffle them.’

  ‘There you are!’ a familiar voice said above Cassie’s left ear and she looked up to see Andrew Lawson, Judy’s boyfriend, smiling down at her. ‘Would you care to dance?’

  ‘Sure,’ smiled Cassie. ‘Where’s Judy?’

  ‘She wasn’t feeling too good – a stomach bug – so I got a taxi for her and sent her home.’

  ‘I would have brought her,’ Cassie said in dismay. Judy had been awfully quiet in herself today and a bit pale-looking.

  ‘She didn’t want to make a fuss and spoil the wedding. She’ll be fine, honestly. It’s probably a twenty-four-hour flu.’

  ‘She should have told me all the same,’ Cassie frowned.

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ Andrew assured her as he put his arms around her and started to dance. ‘You look terrific today. Living in London obviously suits you.’ He smiled down at her.

  ‘Thank you,’ Cassie said lightly. There was no doubt about it, Andrew Lawson was a very charming man. He had all the social graces and was very successful to boot. Judy was crazy about him.

  He guided her skilfully around the floor. ‘Judy tells me you’ve taken up interior decorating in your spare time.’

  ‘That’s right. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, so I’ve been making the most of my time in London by studying for a diploma,’ Cassie smiled.

  ‘Maybe you could do something with the penthouse some time you’re home,’ Andrew suggested. ‘It’s about time I had it redecorated.’

  ‘Well, I could come and have a look at it certainly,’ Cassie agreed. She’d been in the penthouse a couple of times and thought it was perfectly fine. The music turned into a slow set and to her surprise, Judy’s boyfriend drew her closer. She hadn’t really expected this. He was holding her very tightly, intimately, and to her dismay Cassie realized that he was having an erection.

  ‘Andrew, if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit this one out,’ she said coolly. He wasn’t drunk or anything like it – not that that would have been an excuse. Anyway, she was damned if she was going to stay dancing with him.

  ‘This is nice. Aren’t you enjoying it?’ he murmured, nuzzling her ear, his hands sliding down over her hips. ‘I thought maybe when the wedding was over you and I could get together. You’re a very desirable woman, Cassie. I’ve been watching you all day and I really like what I see. I think we should get to know each other. You like me too, I can tell.’

  Cassie couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Let go of me, Andrew Lawson!’ she snapped. ‘That is the most despicable thing I’ve heard in a long time. I hope Judy finishes with you because you certainly don’t deserve her. Any man who could make a pass at a friend of his girlfriend is a creep!’

  Andrew gave a short laugh. ‘What a remarkably old-fashioned way of looking at things. You surprise me! You’re living in the nineteen-eighties now, you know, not the eighteen-eighties. Judy and I don’t feel we have to be imprisoned in our relationship. Both of us are free to do our own thing.’

  ‘How convenient for you, Andrew,’ Cassie said drily. ‘But if it’s all the same to you, I don’t want you doing “your own thing” with me.’ She turned on her heel and walked away in disgust, leaving him alone on the dance-floor.

  What a rat, she thought indignantly. It was quite obvious Andrew Lawson had not the slightest intention of being faithful to Judy and she would be mad to stay with him. Although she was tempted, she decided not to tell Aileen and Laura of what had just occurred. There was no point in ruining their enjoyment of the reception. Besides, Aileen might go for Andrew baldheaded. She had a very hot temper when roused.

  The incident spoiled what was left of the evening for her as she argued with herself about whether or not she should tell Judy. It was a difficult one, really Judy would be devastated by Andrew’s behaviour, as indeed would Cassie if she were in Judy’s shoes. If she didn’t tell her, she was letting a cad deceive a dear friend. Cassie wondered if Judy had any idea that Andrew chatted up other women. Maybe she did; maybe she just turned a blind eye. It left her in a dilemma. Why did these things always happen to her? She had been minding her own business, enjoying her sister’s wedding. Well, blast Andrew Lawson anyway!

  ‘Everything OK? You look as if you’d like to do somebody an injury,’ Aileen remarked, as Cassie sat down at the table.
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br />   ‘Oh . . . everything’s fine,’ she lied. ‘I was just wondering what time Barbara’s going to leave. I think Mam and Ian’s parents are beginning to wilt. It’s after midnight.’

  ‘Knowing Barbara, she’ll hang on as long as possible,’ Aileen retorted. She was dying to get the dishy Detective Hammond to herself for a while but she couldn’t be ill-mannered and leave before Barbara. Not that she cared a whit about Barbara’s feelings but she wouldn’t be rude to Mrs Jordan.

  ‘Oh . . . hold on, I think she’s making a move,’ Cassie noted with satisfaction. By the time Barbara had changed into her going-away outfit and said her goodbyes, Cassie was dead tired, and in the end it was a relief to wave the pair off on their honeymoon to New York. Having accompanied her mother and Aunt Elsie home and made tea for them, it was bliss to go and snuggle down in her childhood bed and forget about Judy and Andrew and everything else and just fall asleep.

  Irene lay in bed, wide-eyed, going over all the events of the day. Once the church bit was over, she had enjoyed being a bridesmaid. She had never had so many compliments in her life and her feet were aching from dancing. She had liked some of Ian’s detective friends, especially the one Aileen had been with. She liked older men, she decided; they made her feel protected.

  What Irene craved more than anything else in the world was security. The thought of being alone and fending for herself filled her with dread and always had. When she left school and went into that dreadful job in the County Council she realized immediately that she was trapped, owned body and soul by the system, from nine until five every single day, five days a week.

  It had been a dreadful shock to her, having to sign in at nine each morning and sit under the gimlet eye of her supervisor, typing boring old letters until lunchtime, to have only an hour of freedom and be held at the desk again until five.