She thought she’d got away with it. Sitting huddled in one of the only open beachside cafés mugs of steaming coffees in front of them she thought she’d got away with it and started to relax. Looking around the full café she noted that, apart from a couple of teenagers playing on their mobiles in the corner the clientele seemed to be made up of other hardy dog walkers, although it must be said they were much more suitably dressed in their bright wellies and matching parkas. She opened her mouth to comment on their own inappropriate attire only to close it like a stranded fish at his question.
‘You never answered me?’
What?’ Mug half way to her lips she placed it back on the table, slopping some of the contents onto the pine wood in the process. Mopping up the spill with the little napkin that had arrived under her mug was an exercise in time wasting that he was having none of. Beckoning to the waitress clearing the next table he got her to wipe up the mess before pushing the coffee towards her and taking her hands, his gaze focused on her ring.
Why did you stay Mabel? Surely once he’d been awarded all that dosh he could have afforded an army of carers to look after his needs. Surely he didn’t need you too?’
Just as she felt compelled to maintain eye contact she felt compelled to tell him the truth. She didn’t want to lie anymore – to him, to herself, to her father. Even if the truth hurt it was time to come clean.
‘Derry you have to understand - I’m a vicar’s daughter…’
‘I know that, but that doesn’t explain…’
But she hushed him with her next words. ‘I’m a vicar’s daughter and the promises I made in church, although not that important to me after...’ She paused, turning her head away to stare out of the window steamed up by warm bodies and even warmer coffee. ‘I made promises that were important to my dad.’ She pulled her hands away, and clutched at her mug, desperate for some heat to permeate through to her fingers. ‘You must see how much my dad means to me. He’s had too much heartache already with losing my mother for me to ever do anything to break his heart.’
‘He wouldn’t want you to be unhappy thought, would he?’
‘He wouldn’t see it like that.’ She glanced up at him, but only briefly her mind rewinding to that fateful day – Her wedding day. ‘He was so happy when he gave me away, more than happy that I’d chosen a man of the cloth – He even mentioned it in his speech…’
‘But surely he must have realised when you disappeared off to Wales that something was up with the marriage?’ She felt her colour rise and couldn’t quite meet his eyes. ‘Oh my God – you didn’t tell him did you?’ his eyes incredulous. ‘All this time he’s been thinking you’re the blushing bride taking care of her beloved…’ He pushed back from the table his chair scraping across the floor. ‘You’re a coward Mabel; a coward and a liar.’ Thrusting his hand in his pocket he scattered a pile of coins across the table his face rigid.
‘No I’m not.’ She whispered, but it was too late – the door was already closing on his retreating back.
Chapter Thirty
Fergus’s discharge from the convalescent home a couple of weeks later was the only thing on the horizon to look forward to: his discharge and then his wedding.
She never thought she’d be sitting beside him on their same old bench in the shadow of Mabel Singer talking about his forthcoming marriage. She was happy for him, of course she was and sitting there gripping his hand she told him so.
‘I’m not sure it’s quite the thing dad. But just remember: I’m not losing a dad; I’m gaining a step-mother,’ she said pulled a mock grimace.
‘I’m so pleased you and Michele get on so well.’ He smiled down at her, ‘although I’m a bit worried about all the whispering that’s going on.’
‘Oh?’ She opened her eyes wide. ‘Whispering is it? We’ve just been planning a few little surprises…’
‘Yes, like the honeymoon! Just who in their right mind allows their daughter to arrange their honeymoon?’ He shook his head but his smile lingered.
‘I promise you’ll enjoy it.’
He pulled her into a tight embrace before continuing, a frown creasing his brow into a thousand wrinkles.
‘So what have you and Henry decided to do then when the new vicar moves in?’ He paused, staring down at her. ‘There are lots of things I feel I should have said to you a very long time ago…’
‘It’s alright dad…’
But he carried on as if she hadn’t interrupted. ‘I knew for instance that things haven’t been right between you and Henry, well ever since the wedding really.’
She looked at him but remained quiet.
‘I saw you - going off with Ruari and that sweet wife of his.’
‘You never said…’
‘No, well I felt a bit guilty at leaving Henry to spend his wedding night in the vestry, but he deserved it.’ He gave her a brief hug. ‘I should have said something but with the accident and…’
‘There’s nothing you could have done. It was too late by then.’ She took his hand again and started playing with his fingers like she used to as a child. ‘I should never have married him. I thought he’d be like you…’
‘Ah, well that was silly – you should know there’s only one of me now shouldn’t you.’
‘That’s why Michele fell for you hook line and sinker.’
‘Mm, you’re right there my girl. And she’s right about me retiring.’
‘You’ve given your whole life to look after others…’
‘Yes, now it’s time for Michele to look after me.’
‘DAD!’
‘Only joking Mabel. It’s a partnership through and through. She’s going to tell me what to do, and I’m going to do it.’ He stood up and placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘Just remember we’ll always be there for you, and there’ll always be room at our home – you’re my daughter and whatever the future holds I only hope it’s better than the last five years. There’s a man for you somewhere - a man that’s very similar to your dear old dad, but hopefully a little younger and with a lot more hair.’
She swallowed the hard lump that had suddenly appeared in the back of her throat. ‘You wouldn’t mind if Henry and I… If we… If we went our separate ways?’
He leant down to whisper in her ear. ‘Nothing would give me greater satisfaction than seeing that… well, as we’re in church and I’m still the vicar for at least another couple of hours I’d better not swear any more – the quicker you can ditch him the better as far as I’m concerned.’
‘We’ll probably seek an annulment after, well after things have died down a bit – he’s proposed to Iris and she’s accepted.’
‘Well she wasn’t very well going to refuse now was she, considering his fortune.’
‘Actually I really think she loves him dad. I can’t like her very much but she always seems to come back for more. Her sheet anchor she calls him.’
‘Is that so, very apt considering the amount of bed linen she’s going to have to deal with – I hope you’ve told her she can’t have Annie?’
They shared a smile. Annie Friend, the very best of women had upped and found herself a toy-boy fireman.
‘I never did ask if Calvin smoked: firemen don’t do they?’ She queried, trying not to laugh.
‘Well there’s no point in trying to get her to stop now is there? Do you remember where she shoved those nicotine patches Henry bought her!’
‘Dad, and you a vicar too.’
He paused to look at his watch. ‘Only for another hour and ten minutes – talking of which I’d better get going, I’ve a wedding to go to.’
She remained just where she was, the morning light flickering a cacophony of colours across her face like a bad movie from the seventies. She couldn’t quite believe he’d known about Henry and her, but then again it didn’t really matter in the scheme of things. Information like that: important juicy, vital information had a time and a place and five years too late wasn’t it. The end of her story was writt
en, and like other crap stories it didn’t have a happy ending lurking within its pages. There was no fairy tale surprise instore where the tall dark handsome knight would appear from nowhere and drag her off to a life of immeasurable monotony. A strange word, but one to describe the life she craved. She longed to be sick of school lunchboxes just as she longed to be able to shout at the kids for leaving their belongings scattered all over the house. She dreamed of days filled with dirty dishes and mucky socks and nights filled with comfortable boring sex.
She’d never dreamt of having to find a cheap flat and a job, but it very much looked like that’s what she was going to get – But not in Ireland, never in Ireland. There were too many unhappy memories now for her ever to settle. There were too many happy couples like Ruari and Grainne, and now her dad. There were too many men out there to remind her, even if there could only ever be one Derry.
Glancing up at the stained glass window she wished a silent good bye to Mabel Singer for her bags were packed. All she had to do was say good bye to her dad and then she was off. She made her way to the door and, pulling it back hurried over to the manse to check she still had her boat ticket tucked away in the front pocket of her rucksack, along with her bank card stuffed to the brim with five years’ worth of carer’s allowance: her card to freedom, or at least for the moment. She wouldn’t be totally free for another couple of weeks when the annulment papers landed on the doormat, but she couldn’t think Henry would back out now. After all it was only last week holed up in that poky back street solicitor’s office she’d signed an affidavit that she wouldn’t be entitled to any of his insurance money. She wanted nothing from him or Iris other than to forget the last five years. The only thing she’d asked of him was not to mention their separation to anyone until after her dad had left on his honeymoon. She wanted nothing to spoil this his special day.
Chapter Thirty One
‘Thanks for giving me away Derry.’
‘You’re more than welcome, although looking the way you do in that suit I’m having serious second thoughts.’ He held her away allowing his gaze to wander suggestively up and down her powder blue suit to finally land on the little matching hat perched just so on her elaborately dressed hair. ‘Its times like these I regret never learning to wolf whistle – all the boys in my year learnt, but for some reason I could never get my teeth around it.’ He continued, reaching out and tweaking her hat. ‘I suppose it’s too late now to ask if you’ll elope with me to Gretna Green?’ His face suddenly crestfallen.
‘Behave yourself, or I’ll change who I’ve appointed as my successor.’ She mock swatted him with her spare hand the other one clutching at the posy of violets and baby cream roses that Fergus had left for her.
‘Ah, yes – that’s another thing. I don’t mind so much you running away to get married like some love sick teenager, but the harridan you’ve leaving in your wake!’ He shook his head from side to side. ‘You really must hate me.’
‘She’s very good at her job, and she has two sons of her own so you’ll be child’s play for her.’
I already have a mother Mabel. Someone with a short skirt and the legs to wear it would have been nice.’ His eyes now focusing on her slim ankles and pretty feet encased in elegant courts.
‘Shush will you, I’m listening out for the nod from the organist. He promised me he’d miss a note a couple of minutes in so I’d be prepared.’ She took a big sustaining breath before continuing. ‘Are you sure I look alright…?’
‘You look beautiful, and I’m not just saying that. All brides are meant to be beautiful, but I’ve seen a fair few that only their mothers’ and husbands’ could love.’
She placed a shaking hand through his arm as the missed note rang out briefly before being forgotten by everyone but Michele, Fergus and Derry.
‘Keep talking or I’m likely to turn around and escape to the hills. Have you seen Mabel?’
‘Mabel?’
‘Stop it. Mabel – Fergus’s daughter, Mabel.’
‘I haven’t looked.’ He smiled down at her as the music changed. ‘Part of me will be glad to see the back of you – no more Spanish Inquisition.’ He pulled her gently into the aisle. ‘Come on, your future awaits.’
Of course he’d seen her. He’d seen her, or at least the part of her not obliterated by the most ridiculous hat as soon as he’d arrived. Why would someone want to buy something the size of a dustbin lid in the first place was beyond him, unless they had a dustbin – And then to stick a feather out the side and cover it with netting was bad enough but to actually have the audacity to sell the thing? He could imagine Mabel, her old leather purse clutched in her hand as she decided just which ridiculous head topper to purchase. He remembered the purse, the same one she’d taken out in the café when she’d tried to Go Dutch: its black leather faded and cracked, its contents coppers at best. She’d probably saved up for what must be the stupidest hat imaginable or, his breath catching in his throat had asked Henry for a handout. Talking of which… His eyes scanned the church looking for him, or at least his wheelchair because they’d never met. He found him easily enough tucked away in a corner at the front and presumably that was Iris at his side. He smiled to himself, before turning to see Michele arriving in the Rolls Royce he’d arranged as a surprise. Once outside the doors of the church that smile turned into laughter, a huge bellow of laughter loud enough to wake the dead in next doors graveyard. She’d described Iris as an evil red haired daughter of the devil with tits the size of prize winning pumpkins. He hadn’t been able to ascertain the hair colour under another bin lid creation, but then again he hadn’t really been looking at her hair.
Walking up the aisle with Michele gripping his arm with a steely hand he allowed his eyes to drift towards her before focusing on Fergus, resplendent in grey. He could just see the line of her neck, the curve of her cheek – But her eyes? No chance. Handing over Michele to her intended was his greatest pleasure, taking his place right out of sight of Mabel less so. Lifting up the order of service his mind, if not his eyes wandered off into a fugue of its own. While his ears heard the sacred words repeated yet again, while his lips mouthed the well-known lyrics his mind went on a shopping spree.
He’d propose as soon as possible with the biggest rock he could afford. She could have whichever one she wanted – diamond, sapphire, emerald, ruby – he had no preference. He nodded his head, they’d go window shopping tomorrow. He turned to the next page and started singing out the words to ‘Abide with me’ pleased now his misspent youth included church so that he didn’t have to follow the words. The next thing on the list was their wedding, or at least the official one for in truth he’d been bound to her for the last five years – bound by honour and by love.
He didn’t need anyone to put the double stamp on his feelings for her, but if that’s what she needed then he’d be there top hat in hand. While she was messing about with flowers and venues he’d spend his time on arranging their honeymoon – the sky was the limit as far as honeymoons were concerned. He didn’t mind where, or how much only, stumbling on the last line - only as long as it wasn’t Spain.
Finally it was over: the longest, shortest time of his life. All they had to do was wave them off as, contrary to the wishes of almost all the congregation squeezed inside they’d opted to disappear on their surprise honeymoon straight after signing the register.
Gathering at the gates he stood back, or as far as he could get in the crowded courtyard without being crushed against the railings. There was Henry with Iris on one side and Mabel on the other waving as the Rolls disappeared out of sight the noise of clanging tin cans now a dull thud as they trailed the back of the car.
He waited for the crowd to disperse for didn’t he have all the time in the world. With Michele away and his new secretary not due to start for a couple of weeks he’d decided on a long overdue holiday from the practice. He still had his lecturing commitments but he’d worry about that later.
Finally he could see them h
overing awkwardly in that post wedding lull of not knowing quite what to do next.
‘Hello there.’ His tone subdued somewhat, remembering the last time they’d met. But that was all water under the bridge now as her dad was married and out of the way. All that mattered was her accepting his apology for being a tosser. ‘I thought we could go for lunch somewhere?’ His eyes fixed on what he could see of her face under the bin lid.
‘That’s very kind but Henry and I have plans, don’t we dear?’
‘Er, that’s right.’ Henry’s voice confused, his eyes flickering between them with a frown. ‘Yes, we’ve booked a table at… ’
‘Yes, for 12 o’clock.’ She interrupted, ‘and we don’t want to be late.’ She glanced up briefly, not quite managing to meet his eye before bending down to release the brakes on the wheelchair. ‘Well, it was good to see you again and thanks for all you did for my…’
‘It was my pleasure,’ his face grim. ‘I’ll pop around to see you tomorrow, there’s some things we need to discuss.’
‘Yes, you do that.’ Her hands gripping the handles of the chair as if her life depended on it.’ She turned to smile at Iris. ‘If you can push Henry I’ll just check the Manse is locked up, and I might just ditch the hat.’
Chapter Thirty Two
‘What the hell was that all about? I’ve booked a table at 1, not 12 and you’re certainly not invited.’
‘Hush Henry.’ Iris placed a finger against his lips. ‘Surely you can’t be as thick as all that. Mabel was trying to avoid him although…’ She threw her a sharp glance. ‘Why anyone would want to avoid having lunch with such a sexy bloke is beyond me.’
‘He’s my dad’s surgeon Iris.’ She said, crossing her fingers behind her back. ‘He probably wanted to ask me something about his follow-up or bill or something.’
Unhappy Ever After Girl (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 3) Page 18
