Slowly, carefully, in her best handwriting, she signed her name and invested every letter with pure venom.
‘I just need another week and then I’ll be back, right as rain,’ Alexandra informed her colleague calmly.
‘Fine, Alexandra, everything’s covered,’ Thomas Scully said smoothly. Too smoothly for Alexandra’s liking. Thomas Scully was a smarmy git who was constantly trying to get one over on Alexandra. He licked up to the senior partners, making himself out to be the best thing since fried bread. If Superman Scully could cope so efficiently they might decide to give him some of her work. Maybe another week was pushing it.
‘Talk to you soon, Thomas,’ Alexandra said briskly and hung up. She certainly wouldn’t let that baldy little toady know that she was in any way perturbed. He’d love that. Thomas Scully was a shit-stirrer. Some day he was going to fall into it face down and she wouldn’t be there proffering a helping hand. It would give her immense pleasure to watch Master Scully getting his come-uppance, some day. Alexandra stubbed out her cigarette and began to apply heavy make-up to hide the discoloured bruises, which, thankfully, were beginning to fade.
She was going to view an apartment today. A new two-bedroom one off Herbert Park. How absolutely classy. The tree-lined roads around there reminded her of London. It was a very affluent area and it would be a feather in her cap to rent there. They’d be pea-green with envy at work.
Chris was meeting her for lunch to discuss it. He was going to be her lodger! Alexandra smiled to herself. Things weren’t working out too badly after all. She was going to rent a bigger apartment. He, hopefully, would pay half the rent but her name would be on the lease. So when she met someone she wanted to get serious with, she’d just boot him out. Chris needed her more than she needed him, which suited her just fine. Suzy was adamant that he couldn’t go back home and he couldn’t afford to spend a fortune on rent. Chris was at her mercy. Alexandra liked that. It made her feel in control. She’d enjoy her fling with him and then when it was over he could fend for himself. That day might be coming sooner than he thought, Alexandra mused.
She had a client, Marcus Lynn, whom she’d fancied for ages. He was tall, at least six two, and he carried himself very straight. Some tall men had a way of hunching over, but Marcus had great bearing. He had jet-black hair that was just beginning to go grey at the temples. His brown eyes were ringed by the longest darkest lashes. He was sallow-skinned. Always tanned, he had a cleft in his chin that was incredibly sexy. Sean Connery had nothing on him.
He was thirty-five, a very wealthy successful hotelier and he wasn’t married. He was dating a country girl. Some hick who’d been widowed young and left with a child. Marcus had met her when she spent a weekend in one of his hotels. He’d been very taken with her. It was the talk of the dinner-party circuit. Marcus Lynn could have his pick of women and he was involved with a little mouse from the back of beyonds, it was ridiculous. Alexandra dismissed the other woman from her thoughts. It was clear Marcus only felt sorry for her. It wouldn’t last.
But Marcus Lynn and Alexandra could be a pretty powerful couple. Since she’d taken over his advertising campaign his hotel’s image had been thoroughly revamped and he was more than pleased with her. They had an extremely good business relationship. Alexandra admired his decisiveness, his directness, his commanding presence. Marcus was no pushover. Alexandra felt that in Marcus she’d found the man she’d always been looking for. The man who would not be controlled. The man who was stronger than her in every way. A little shiver ran down her spine. Imagine being married to someone like Marcus. Imagine being a wealthy wife, never having to worry about money. Imagine travelling the world and staying in the best hotels. Imagine seducing and being seduced by him . . . it gave her goose-bumps to think of it.
The snaring of Marcus Lynn was going to be given top priority. As soon as she was settled in her new pad Alexandra would go all out. It was time. Another year or two and she’d have crossed that very frightening line between Independent-Career-Woman-who-Loves-her-Fascinating-Job to Pathetic-Spinster-who-has-to-Work-to-Keep-Herself. The idea of not finding a man to keep her in the comfort in which she wanted to be kept was too awful to contemplate. Even if it didn’t work out, the security of the ring on the finger could not be denied.
Look at Suzy. Alexandra had to admire her tenacity and determination in not letting Chris walk all over her. Suzy was living in the comfort of her elegant home, while Chris had been evicted.
Not that if . . . no . . . when she married Marcus, she would ever give him grounds for an affair. She would be the perfect wife, Alexandra decided. She, who knew so much about men, couldn’t possibly fail.
Ellen, Miriam and Denise grinned from ear to ear as Doug hammered in the final nail of the striking white-and-pink sign with its gorgeous lettering The Deli emblazoned for the citizenry of Glenree to see.
‘We’ll put up a Christmas tree in the window,’ Miriam exclaimed.
‘Oh yes! And boughs of holly and ivy,’ Denise added.
‘Girls! I’ve just had a brilliant brainwave!’ Ellen’s cheeks were red with excitement.
‘What?’ the other two chorused.
‘Let’s have Santa do the official opening.’
‘Munroe, you’re a genius!’ Denise clapped her on the back. ‘Who’ll we get to do Santa?’
With one accord the three turned to look up at Doug, whose expression changed from one of amusement to consternation.
‘Oh no! No! No! And definitely no!’
‘Ah Doug, go on,’ Ellen pleaded.
‘You’d be perfect,’ Miriam cajoled.
‘The kids love you,’ Denise flattered.
‘No way,’ Doug declared from atop the ladder.
‘I’ll make you steak and kidney pie any time you ask me,’ Ellen bribed.
‘Sorry, the answer’s still no. I’m not doing Santa to the mad hordes of Glenree. Can you imagine me trying to be nice to the likes of Julie Ann Munroe?’
The girls guffawed.
‘Ah Doug, please,’ Ellen begged. ‘You’ve been part of it all since the beginning. It would be perfect.’
‘Aw, Ellen. Have mercy,’ Doug groaned.
‘It would only be one hour of your life and I’d be grateful for the rest of mine,’ Ellen twinkled.
‘Why did I ever get involved with you lot and your mad hare-brained ideas?’ Doug grumbled as he came down the ladder. ‘I used to have a quiet life. Early to bed and early to rise. My eyes were clear, and so was my head. And now look at me. A wreck of a man. Go in and make me a cup of tea, woman, and while you’re at it, feed me a few goodies to build up my strength.’
‘You can act like this for a week, Doug, and then forget it,’ Ellen grinned.
‘You better be nice to me, Ellen. I could lose my nerve and get stage fright. Us actor types are very fragile.’ Doug minced into The Deli followed by the three grinning proprietresses. Later, having served Doug tea and coffee slices, they sat making plans for the opening.
‘I’ll make the Santa suit.’ Miriam wrote it down on her list.
‘I’ll go in to Hector Grey’s and get some colouring books and crayons and bits and pieces for Santa’s sack,’ Denise offered.
‘I’ll get the posters organised. Debbie White is brilliant at art work. I’ll get her to do a flyer and get them printed and we can drop them in the houses in the village and out in the new estates. The kids can help, they’ll enjoy that. We better get cracking,’ Ellen declared.
A hectic week followed. The children, infected with the adults’ excitement, were more of a hindrance than a help. The idea of Christmas cheer coming earlier than normal was most exciting.
As well as preparing for the grand opening of The Deli, Miriam was preparing for Christmas. Baking cakes and puddings, making Doug’s Santa suit, as well as doing her normal household chores left her more than frazzled.
It was with a sinking heart that she saw her mother-in-law cycle past the front door several days later.
/> ‘Good morning, Mrs Munroe,’ she said politely when Sheila marched into the kitchen.
‘You’re at home then,’ Sheila remarked tartly. ‘I’ve called twice this week and there hasn’t been a sinner around.’
‘Well, Ben’s at work. The children are at school and I’ve been down at The Deli,’ Miriam explained.
‘Hrump. It will all end in tears, believe me. You’ve too much to be doing, Miriam, with a husband and three children. You shouldn’t be putting all this work on yourself. It’s not fair of Ellen to impose on your good nature.’
Mrs Munroe’s false sympathy made Miriam want to scream.
‘Don’t let it bother you one whit,’ she said firmly. ‘Everything’s under control and Ellen isn’t imposing in the slightest. I’d offer you a cup of tea but I’m just off to Swords with Ellen. We’ve a few bits and pieces to get yet.’
‘Oh! Tsk! Soon I’ll have to make an appointment to see the pair of you,’ Sheila said huffily. She was most put out. She’d never come to Miriam’s house without getting tea and cake. ‘Well, the reason I came over was to ask you if you’ll bake the usual three dozen mince pies for the Christmas fair. I’ll need them for Sunday fortnight. And I’ll need a bit of sewing done. We’re making new curtains for the parish hall. I told the guild you’d do two windows for them.’
‘Oh! Oh!’ Miriam got into a fluster. Where was she going to get time to make thirty-six mince pies and sew curtains for the parish hall? How typical of Mrs Munroe to volunteer her services without even asking. She knew she was up to her eyes. Miriam knew she had to make her stand. It was now or never. Inwardly she quaked. Sheila Munroe was a formidable woman. For years, Miriam had let her browbeat her into doing work for the parish. Church works, as Mrs Munroe called them, were most important. It was a duty and an obligation. As well as turning her back on Mrs Munroe, it would seem as though she were slighting the parish. Guilt assailed her. She always cooked mince pies for the Christmas fair.
Stop it! Stop it! she ordered herself silently. Miriam took a deep breath. ‘Mrs Munroe, I just don’t have the time this year. And I won’t be able to sew the curtains either. I’m sure you’ll understand. I’ll buy a couple of cherry logs for the fair. And, while you’re here, now that I’ll be working full-time I won’t have time to bake for the monthly bring-and-buy sales and I won’t be coming to the quilting classes any more. I’m sorry, but I just won’t have the time.’
Sheila stared at her in horror. ‘Well, Miriam, this is very upsetting. I always thought I could rely on you. This is what the world is coming to. You young women have no time for the church or the parish. It’s all me, me, me. It’s a sorry day when the young married women of Glenree haven’t time to do some charitable work. No wonder the world is the way it is. What kind of example is that to be giving to Connie and Stephanie?’
‘Mrs Munroe, I’ll bring up my daughters as I see fit. And they won’t be lacking in good example. Now excuse me, I’m going out. Good day.’ Her voice shook with the effort of defying Sheila.
Miriam was raging. How dare her mother-in-law imply that she was an unfit mother giving bad example? How she longed to emulate Emma and tell her to mind her own business.
Sheila’s nostrils flared and she and her cheeks flamed.
‘Well, Miriam Munroe, you’re a sad disappointment to me. I’ve treated you with kindness from the day you first set foot over my threshold, when Ben brought you into this family. And this is the thanks I get. I’ll not be asking you for a favour again.’ Sheila was livid. She stalked out the door, got up on her bike and cycled down the path like a fury.
Miriam stared after her and burst into tears. Her mother-in-law had just succeeded in making her feel like a naughty, ungrateful little girl. She was disgusted with herself. It was infuriating. She was a grown woman with a family of her own. Why did she feel like this, at her age? It was ridiculous. Or was it the same with all mothers-in-law? None of them could be quite as bad as Sheila. Miriam was sure of that.
The ungrateful little snipe, Sheila raged as she cycled at speed out of Miriam’s drive. It was hardly credible. Miriam had behaved in a most disgraceful manner. Sheila felt snubbed and humiliated. Miriam had not acted out her part. She’d responded as an equal, which was something she most emphatically was not, Sheila fumed as she swerved to avoid a large puddle. It was most disconcerting. After all she had done for that girl. Taken her into the bosom of the family and been a mother to her since her own was dead. How dare Miriam rebuff her! What was she, only the daughter of a penny-farthing farmer from the back of beyonds? Sheila’s face was as dark as a thundercloud as she cycled along the wind-chilled wintry-hedged back road. She came to the turn that led to Glenree. She could see the church spire and the rooftops framed by winter foliage in the distance. She’d planned to cycle into the village to call on the priest’s housekeeper to discuss whether Father Kevin would prefer a roast of beef, a pair of chickens or a side of pork as his Christmas box from Mick. There’d be a bottle of port as well, of course.
She’d been looking forward to it. Taking tea with the priest’s housekeeper, Fanny Burke, was something she always enjoyed. Being the priest’s housekeeper conferred a status of sorts on Fanny, who kept her distance from the majority of the parishioners. Only the privileged few were invited into the presbytery to partake of tea and ginger cake. By dint of making sure that Mick provided Fanny with the choicest cuts for the Reverend’s dinner, and because of her position as president of the guild, Sheila was one of the few to enjoy Fanny’s favour. A position she guarded zealously. It was an alliance that caused great grief to Bonnie Daly, who, years ago, made a supreme error of judgement and criticised Fanny’s cross-stitch in a craft competition that she and Fanny had entered. Fanny had never forgiven the slight to her sewing skills and the privilege of tea in the presbytery had instantly been withdrawn, never to be restored. It was something that came between Bonnie and her sleep and she rued the day she’d opened her big mouth.
Sheila never failed to mention at the guild meetings that she had taken tea in the priest’s house just so she could watch the pinched look of envy on her enemy’s sly, sharp face. She’d been looking forward to tea with Fanny today in particular, because she’d wanted to find out whether it was true that Dentist Donovan’s wife had gone up to John of God’s in Dublin, to dry out. Fanny knew everything that happened in Glenree and was the source of jewels of gossip that were sparingly dispensed, depending on her humour. If she was in good form and you got her going, the rewards were well worth enduring an hour’s complaints about her hiatus hernia, and her ‘delicate tummy’. Sometimes when Fanny was in one of her moods, she’d be sharp-tongued and snippy and the visit would be a complete waste of time, apart from the social kudos of being seen entering the presbytery.
Sheila ignored the turn and cycled straight on towards home. She wasn’t in the mood to listen to Fanny Burke’s complaints today, not even to ferret out news of Dentist Donovan’s nervy wife. Miriam had upset her. She was probably on the road behind her, on her way to Ellen’s. Sheila was glad she hadn’t been overtaken by her ungrateful ibex of a daughter-in-law.
Oh, the quiet ones were sly. Give them an inch and they’d take a mile. She was far more offended by Miss Miriam’s cheek than by Emma’s outburst at the christening. Emma was a spoilt high-strung little madam. She’d expect no better from her, but she did expect that Miriam would know her place and show some gratitude and consideration. After all, Ben had given her a very nice house and a far better standard of living than she could expect on a poky little farm in the middle of nowhere. She’d married into a respected and well-off family. Her position in society had risen a hundredfold and this was her attitude.
‘I haven’t time!’
The impertinence of it. Sheila was so vexed and indignant, her concentration so addled, that she failed to notice the crater of a pothole beside the iron gates to Blackbird’s Field. The bike juddered. Sheila lost control and went flying over the handlebars at speed. A brie
f instant of surprise, shock, then fright engulfed her before she hit the ground with force, a jagged rock jamming sharply into her ribcage. Inky darkness closed in on her and she lay spread-eagled, bleeding and unconscious on the gravelly winding country road.
Chapter Twelve
‘I feel a bit mean, Ellen. You know how guilty your mother can make you feel?’ Miriam confided as she and Ellen washed their new crockery and cutlery in preparation for the gala opening.
‘Look, Miriam, Mam’s got to get used to the idea that you’re going to be working and that you won’t be available to bake and sew for the guild. She doesn’t ask me. She’s never asked Emma. She only asks you because she knows you won’t say no. You’re too soft with her, Miriam. Mam can be an awful bully if you let her. And I know that’s a terrible thing to say about your own mother, but I’ve seen her imposing her own will on people. That’s why we’ve never really got on. I won’t let her do it to me.’
‘Yeah, but she does great charity work for the parish. She made me feel I was letting the church down.’ Miriam polished soup spoons with a vengeance.
‘Charity begins at home, Miriam. If she wants to bake and sew for the parish, fine. That’s her choice. And anyway she’s got loads of free time now. She doesn’t have a young family to take care of. You have your own path to follow and it’s not up to her to dictate it or tell you whether it’s wrong or right,’ Ellen argued firmly. She’d had enough of Sheila whingeing and moaning and making disparaging remarks about neglected children. Nothing would give her mother greater satisfaction than for the business to be a disaster, so that she could be proved right. It wasn’t meant maliciously, Ellen knew. It was because it was something Sheila had nothing to do with and therefore she had no control over. It suited her to be able to drop into Miriam whenever she wanted with requests for sewing and baking. Why would Miriam want to be anywhere but at home taking care of her husband and family? Ellen knew exactly what her mother’s thoughts were about Miriam’s part in the deli venture.
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