Unhappy Ever After Girl (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 3)

by Jenny O'Brien

  She turned to glance at the door of the vestry even as she started to gather the faded petals on her lap and tuck them up her sleeve. If she had the nerve she’d go in there now and tear out the page from the marriage register.

  Her hand paused, her thoughts flitting from the register to her father. She couldn’t do that to him. Such an act of desecration was against everything he’d ever taught her. But she wanted to see her name entwined with Henry’s all the same. There had been so much happiness inside her as she’d curled and looped her signature with a flamboyant flourish for the very last time: a happiness she was desperate to reclaim, a happiness she was afraid she’d lost forever.

  Instead of replacing her shoes she dangled them from one hand and retraced her steps down the aisle towards the vestry, her footsteps silent as smooth skin met ice cold flagstones - the urge to see her name one last time overcoming any doubts.

  She’d always loved her surname. Growing up in Dublin she was surrounded by good solid Irish names from Murphy to Maguire. To be called something a little unusual made up somewhat for the very ordinariness of her youth. She couldn’t boast having a fireman for a dad like Jules O’Dwyer, or indeed a detective like Paula Parry. No, being called Mabel Frederick in some way made up for the fact she had a vicar for a dad and no mother to speak of, except in the unreliable memory of a bereaved seven year old girl.

  She smiled at the thought of her mother as she pushed open the heavy door and scrabbled across to the old hardwood table that they used to hold the register. All she could remember was a faded to grey image of a petite woman who had first called her Freddie in a desperate attempt to glamourize her from shy quiet old fashioned Mabel into something more fitting for a girl born on the cusp of the Twenty First Century. Despite the funky nickname the shy quiet old fashioned girl remained. Now as an old married woman of twenty four she was pleased it would always be part of her identity but Freddie was now her past, a past she’d drawn a line under with her marriage. She was still that shy old-fashioned girl – she was still Mabel through and through and Mabel she would remain.

  She threw a quick glance around the room, the polished wooded surfaces as familiar to her as the smell of beeswax and the sight of bookcases stuffed to the brim with old tomes and even older artefacts. Her eyes finally landed on the table with its ornate embossed maroon ledger that was still open on the correct page. Pulling the book towards her she ran a pink nail down the yellow mottled page finally to stall on her name and then that of Henry Marsden-Minns. Mrs Mabel Marsden-Minns – not the awe inspiring one she’d dreamt of as a romantic teenager reading smutty Mills and Boon’s by torchlight under the bedclothes late into the night. She’d always hoped for something stunning, or if not stunning then outrageous; instead of which she got Minns – easy to remember. Not many brides were lucky enough to have a surname that rhymed with “Bins” – Great!

  Chapter Five

  Mitch placed a couple of cans of lager on the table before setting bottles of OJ in front of the girls. ‘There you go – sure you wouldn’t like a wine or something?’

  ‘No, I’m driving, or had you forgotten.’ Liddy smiled up at him. ‘When the baby’s born will be time enough.’

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be able to fit behind the steering wheel Lid’s?’ Ruari said, throwing an arm around Grainne’s shoulder and starting to massage her skin. ‘Don’t you get any ideas my love about eating as many pies as Lids; I’ve no intention of giving up the Porsche anytime soon.’

  ‘She’s heavily pregnant, not fat as you very well know.’ She raised her hand to his and gripped it tightly. ‘Give it a few months and I’ll be even fatter!’

  ‘Hey, I didn’t think you wanted to tell…..’

  ‘Mitch and Liddy don’t count and anyway…’ She threw a smile across at the suddenly still couple opposite. ‘I’m hoping Liddy will lend me her maternity clothes when she’s finished with them.’

  ‘Of course I will silly.’ Rising to her feet was getting difficult but, with a little heave from Mitch she made her away around the table and gave Grainne a hug. ‘That’s fantastic news. I’ve been trying to set up Roar for ages now with no success – he was just waiting for the right girl to come along.’

  ‘Talking about the right girl,’ Roar interrupted, his eyes focusing in on Iris and Henry dancing to the sound of Take That. ‘I’m surprised to see that woman here; I thought she left Mabel in the lurch when she broke up with Eric.’

  ‘So did I!’ Mitch interrupted. ‘Do you think Freddie’s alright? I didn’t like the way he was speaking to her earlier.’ He paused, his eyes circling the room. ‘Anyone know where she is?’

  ‘She’s gone outside for a bit of fresh air. I offered to stay but she sent me packing.’ Ruari picked up Grainne’s hand and, entwining his fingers in hers continued. ‘You know what a private person she is; apart from her dad she never lets anyone close – that is until that tosser came along.’

  ‘Shush,’ Grainne said, squeezing his hand. ‘Someone will hear you.’

  ‘I don’t care if they do.’ He waved his free arm around the full dancefloor. ‘Most of the people here think exactly like I do. It’s only Mabel and her dad that have fallen under his spell, or should that be smell – There’s nothing magical about Henry,’ his eyes following Iris as she headed towards the door, her bottom straining against the too tight fabric. ‘Such a slapper - I thought it wasn’t “de rigueur” to wear white at a wedding unless you’re the bride that is.’

  ‘Or a virgin,’ interrupted Mitch. ‘It’s a long time since Iris was able to wear that shade of white with impunity, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Boys!’ Liddy burst out laughing, ‘and you go on about women being bitchy?’

  ‘I wasn’t being bitchy. I was being honest. You or Grainne would never behave like that now would you?’ He turned back to face Ruari. ‘So what do you suggest we do then?’

  ‘Well, it’s a bit late to do anything now she’s married him, but I’ve told her she can always rely on us.’ He rested his head briefly against Grainne’s. ‘I just hope he proves us all wrong and it is just a tiff.’

  ‘It might be just a lovers tiff, but I’ll go and check on her all the same.’ She said, twisting slightly so her lips met his.

  ‘She might just want to be alone…’

  ‘Nah, who wants to be left alone on their wedding – she might just be in need of a friend,’ she replied, standing up and ruffling his hair. ‘I’ll be right back if I’ve got it wrong.’

  ‘I thought I’d find you here Mabe; didn’t you get enough of church earlier?’ She said, joining her at the table in the vestry. ‘So, what you doing all alone on your wedding day then, surely you should be out there strutting your stuff in front of all your guests?’ She added, picking a fallen petal off Freddie’s shoulder before taking her cold hand in hers. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

  ‘Sometimes I’m better off by myself,’ her hand squeezing back. ‘Sometimes... Sometimes I just feel...’

  ‘It’s alright love - you have no need to explain yourself to me. I’m an only child too remember! Do you want me to stay….?’

  ‘Stay,’ the sacred walls capturing her word and echoing it around the small draughty room before dispersing into silence. They sat there, hands clasped both looking down at the two signatures marking the page; both looking at the two signatures marking the start of a unified life together – both staring at the two signatures that should be signalling the beginning of something and not the end.

  ‘I wasn’t meant to be an only child you know,’ her voice braver now. ‘My mum talked about filling the house up with children, but when she died...’

  ‘You and Henry, are you going to...?’ Grainne paused, patting her flat tummy. ‘It would be lovely if our kids were to grow up together.’

  Freddie shook her head. ‘‘He doesn’t want kids, or at least not yet; when he’s settled in a curacy of his own perhaps.’

  ‘Oh.’ There was no reply to that. Staring at he
r down bent head she watched a single tear sliding down her cheek to land on the page, to land and blur out Henry’s name to an illegible ink blot.

  ‘Well that’s what comes from using fountain pens; I’ll make sure I tuck a biro up my sleeve when Roar chases me down the aisle.’ She laughed, slamming the ledger shut and pushing a tissue across the table. ‘Here, it’s clean.’

  ‘What’s a bit of snot between friends anyway?’ Freddie blew her nose with gusto, before running her fingers under her eyes.

  ‘You look fine, or you will do once I’ve had a crack at that hair.’

  ‘I’m not going back.’

  Grainne paused, her mouth full of hair grips. ‘Fine by me love, but what about your dad?’

  ‘Oh God!’ She glanced at the ceiling.

  ‘He can’t help you! Come and sit with us for a bit, its only…’ She glanced at the little silver watch Ruari had given her on New Year’s Day to make up for the lack of a Christmas present. ‘It’s only eight o’clock, give it another couple of hours and then you can escape with Henry. Where are you staying tonight?’

  ‘Oh, he’s booked a night in some posh hotel; our flights don’t leave until the morning.’

  ‘Well then, something to look forward to.’ She leant forward and started twirling and pinning strands of hair back into place. ‘There, you look back to normal.’ She stood up and started fiddling with her train. ‘I’ll have to remember to wear a garter too, they certainly come in handy. Come on love, I don’t know about you but I fancy some champers.’

  Making their way back across the car park Grainne suddenly grabbed her arm to a halt.

  ‘What the…?’

  ‘Shush, isn’t that Iris over there by the manse? I’d recognise that red head anywhere.’ Mabel turned her head, but she was too late. Whatever she’d seen wasn’t there any more, only the whisper of the wind as it jostled its way through the bare branches overhead.

  Chapter Six

  ‘Ah, there you are.’ Ruari stood up and pulled out chairs for them both. ‘We thought you’d never get off the dance floor. I’ve managed to secure one of the last bottles of bubbly, if I’d known there was an alcohol drought I’d have smuggled in my own!’

  ‘Just a sip for me, I’ve been saving myself for some bubbles all night – it’s the worst thing imaginable about being pregnant.’ Muttered Grainne, but with a smile.

  ‘You just wait until your legs swell up like tree trunks and your bladder shrinks to the size of a pea. I spend so much time in the loo I’m thinking of setting up the TV in there – at least I’ll be able to keep up with my soaps.’ Liddy said on a laugh.

  ‘I can’t wait!’ She groaned, taking a sip from the half glass in front of her before raising her head to glance around the room. ‘Er, watch out – here comes the groom.’

  Freddie, grabbing her glass off the table drained it in one before starting up a conversation with Ruari, a huge smile straining at her lips.

  ‘So have you finalised the date for your wedding then…’

  ‘Dearest, where were you? I’ve been looking all over for you.’ Henry’s voice interrupting as he put his hand on her shoulder and, leaning down kissed her cheek: the first time he’d kissed her since the ceremony – not that she was counting or anything!

  ‘Ah champers - Good O.’ He added, pouring himself a glass before settling down in the chair beside her with a flourish of his coattails.

  ‘I’ve been around.’ Tilting her head she took in his flushed face and the tell-tale mark of bright red lipstick on the edge of his mouth. She turned to glance around the room but there was no sign of Iris. Picking up a napkin she pushed it towards him.

  ‘What’s that for,’ his look enquiring.

  ‘You’ve got lipstick all over your gob.’

  ‘Mouth! Honestly my love, you and your slang.’ He added, licking the serviette before rubbing it across his face. ‘You must have laid it on with a trowel earlier.’ He said, smiling across at everyone before folding it into four and placing it neatly on the table.

  ‘In case you hadn’t noticed Henry I’m wearing pink lipstick, not slapper red. In fact…’ She paused and, reaching out her hand opened the napkin before folding it again and placing it between them. ‘If I’m not mistaken the only person wearing this particular shade is Iris. Where is she by the way, gone now she’s got what she wanted?’ She added, throwing a look of distain at his crooked tie.

  There was a pregnant pause. She didn’t know why it was called that, but looking across at the anxious sea of faces opposite she suddenly realised it was the right word – a big fat pregnant pause; an awkward silence eschewing further conversation as all faces turned to stare at the groom to see just how he intended to wriggle out of that one.

  ‘Oh yes. Iris.’ He blustered. ‘She kissed me good bye. She had to…’

  ‘I don’t really care what she had to do, or indeed where she had to do it.’ Standing up she held her hand to Mitch. ‘You haven’t danced with me all night and the taxi is picking us up at ten.’

  ‘Ah, about that…’

  Freddie paused, her hand clasped within Mitch’s. She felt his warmth. She felt his comforting squeeze but all she could see was Henry’s averted gaze. She wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear but she waited anyway.

  ‘Er Iris had nowhere to stay so I said she could use… Well we can easily stay in the vicarage can’t we,’ his voice gaining momentum. ‘It’s probably more fitting now we’re going to be living there, and I couldn’t very well let her sleep in her car like she was planning to.’

  She knew she should say something, something kind and charitable but if she opened her mouth she’d be bound to regret the queue of expletives crowding the back of her tongue. Turning away she found herself cradled in Mitch’s arms and allowed herself to take some limited comfort from his embrace as she gathered what sane thoughts were left running around her head.

  Bloody Henry!

  He’d diddled her out of a proper honeymoon and a proper wedding night, not to mention having just had his tongue down some slapper’s neck. No, not some slapper’s neck, she thought stumbling briefly, as she remembered the red lipstick. Other memories flooded in; the crooked tie, his flushed face, Iris entering the manse. Squeezing her eyes shut couldn’t stop the ultimate realisation of Henry’s final betrayal. She knew just as if she’d been a fly on the wall what he’d been up to moments before with bloody Iris – now what the hell was she meant to do?

  ‘I’m not going to be happy am I?’ She said, craning her neck to look into Mitch’s face.

  ‘I can’t answer that Mabel.’

  ‘What do you and the rest of the gang honestly think of him then?’

  ‘And I’m not prepared to answer that one either!’ He hugged her briefly. ‘Just remember you have friends here, friends that will do anything to help, apart from punching him on the nose, maybe after the wedding but not tonight – the amount I’ve had to drink I’d probably miss. I can just see the headlines now.

  “Handsome brain surgeon decks crowd of curates during wedding.”

  She managed a weak smile. ‘Can I stay with you and Liddy tonight? I can’t spend the night at the vicarage. How he could expect me to sleep under the same roof as my dad on our wedding night is beyond me. My dad’s not deaf or anything and the internal walls are like paper.’

  ‘You don’t need to ask. We have more than enough room.’ His face broke into a grin. ‘There’s a king size bedroom on the ground floor so we won’t even hear what you get up to.’

  ‘I won’t be getting up to anything – in fact I won’t even need a double.’ She blinked on dry eyes. ‘Henry won’t be coming.’

  Chapter Seven

  Lying in Mitch and Liddy’s guestroom she’d never felt so cold. With the house like an oven and extra blankets and throws layered on top of her duvet, all topped off with her black anorak she thought she’d never feel warm again. Mitch and Liddy had sneaked her out into their car right under Henry’s nose all o
n the pretext of checking up on her dad before he’d settled for the night. As she’d told Henry in no uncertain terms he’d only think there was a burglar if he heard noises later.

  ‘Good plan my dear; we don’t want to scare your father with our antics.’ He added, grabbing her in a tight clinch before she could side step his hands.

  She’d nearly gagged at the wet kiss he’d squashed against her lips, his body squirming against hers; all sorts of promises hidden under such a simple action. Surely she should feel jealousy, or perhaps anger? Surely she should feel something for the man she’d just given herself to ‘until death us do part,’ even if it was only disgust. She didn’t spare a thought for what was going to happen later. She only had thoughts to spare for what was going to happen now.

  Jumping out of bed she headed for her suitcase lying open at the end of the bed and, rooting round in the bottom pulled out the pair of socks she’d packed just in case Spain was colder than expected. Her eyes skimmed over the rest of her trousseau loving folded and packed, hope still lingering within its folds. But with a flick of her head she refused to register anything other than her socks and her passport, nestling on the top least she forgot it. She had clothes. She had her passport and she had money. Her hand paused, sock aloft as she thanked the lord she’d refused to get a joint bank account until after the wedding. Henry had wheedled and cajoled but, on this one thing she’d been adamant. She’d worked enough overtime over the last few months not to want him to waste it all on waistcoats, braces and other tatt.