by Cathy Kelly
She sat beside Vicki, put her feet up on an empty chair and poured herself a glass of sparkling water.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Vicki.
‘Nothing.’
‘And I’m the Queen of Sheba.’ Vicki fixed her friend with a quizzical glare. ‘Spill, girlfriend.’
Stella spilled, quietly so that Amelia and Craig wouldn’t overhear.
‘And he hasn’t rung since.’ She ended the story and helped herself to the last sliver of meringue.
‘What are you going to do?’
Stella shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m trying not to think about it. I’m scared I said too much.’
‘There’s no such thing as saying too much,’ Vicki pointed out. ‘Keeping it all to yourself is the problem. You were right to tell him the truth. I know he loves the kids, but today was hardly a life or death scenario. He could have said he wasn’t able to come but he’d pick them up after the concert or something.’
‘Yeah.’ Stella grimly shovelled more meringue into her mouth. She’d been too busy rushing round being the merry hostess to eat much. Now she was hungry. Nick could have said he wasn’t able to pick Jenna and Sara up. ‘I’m not asking him to choose between me and the girls. I’d never do that. I’m a parent myself, I understand what having children is about but…’ She sighed. ‘I want Nick to see that he can love me and the girls, it doesn’t have to be one or the other. We could make it work.’
‘He’s a good guy, though,’ Vicki said. ‘He loves you, you know that. You’ve got to deal with this, together.’
Stella nodded wearily. She wished Rose was around so they could talk about it all. Without Rose, she felt strangely rudderless. Rose had said it would all take time, but Stella was weary of waiting for that time to pass.
‘But it’s odd that Nick hasn’t rung or come back,’ Vicki said.
‘I know. I’m half-afraid something’s happened to him.’ Stella glanced at her watch. The big hand was on its way to four. It had been hours since he’d left and she felt suddenly nauseous at the notion that Nick might have been involved in a hideous car accident, and the last thing she’d said to him was horrible. She pushed the melting meringue away. ‘I’ll phone his mobile.’
‘Hold on. What if he just hasn’t phoned you: what are you going to say then?’
‘That we can work it out,’ Stella said as she rushed indoors. To her astonishment, the light on the answering machine was winking at her. With the noise of everyone talking and the music blaring, she hadn’t heard the phone ring. Because of that, she hadn’t even glanced over at it when she walking through the living room to say goodbye to Hazel and Ivan. Oh no, anything could have happened and she hadn’t noticed the damn message light. Anxiously, she listened to the message.
‘Stella, hi.’ Pause. ‘I’m outside the concert with the girls and one of their friends hasn’t turned up, so they’ve got an extra ticket. They really want me to go with them. I’ll go for the first hour or so and then I’ll be over to you, OK? It’s hardly my sort of music,’ Nick added wryly. ‘But I thought it might improve things with Jenna. She just needs to know I love her and then things will be fine, I promise. She’s insecure, that’s the problem. I should be with you by three. Hope the party’s going well. Bye. Love you,’ he added.
To Stella’s ears, the Love you sounded like an afterthought.
She didn’t cry this time. Instead, she phoned Nick’s mobile, got his message service and left a short, sharp message: ‘Its ten to four, the party’s over and I’m going out. I’ll be out all evening. Don’t bother coming over.’
Her face was still flaming when she marched down the galley kitchen and into the courtyard.
Craig had given up on the worm search and now sat with Vicki’s feet and legs stretched out on his lap. He was giving her bare feet a slow massage. Vicki moaned orgasmically and sank further back in her chair. ‘He’s wonderful at this,’ she said to Stella.
Craig grinned. ‘She wouldn’t let me touch her feet at first but now,’ he looked adoringly up at his girlfriend, ‘she loves it.’
‘I refuse to get out of bed in the morning without a toe job,’ confirmed Vicki, wriggling languorously.
Stella felt a tight ball of temper settle in her skull. She should have a man here massaging her toes and helping her clear up this almighty mess of a party. Instead, she was sitting like one of the ugly sisters, on her own and with nobody to massage any part of her.
‘Did you get talking to him?’ Vicki asked.
‘Yes and no,’ said Stella with gritted teeth. ‘He rang earlier and left a message to say he’s going to the first hour of the concert with the girls, and he’d be over later. By now, in fact.’ Her bright smile was dangerous.
Vicki sighed. ‘We should go,’ she said. ‘So you can go out’
‘Are we going out, Mum?’ asked Amelia.
‘Yes,’ said Stella, brushing earth from her daughter’s once-spotless pink T-shirt. ‘We’re going to the cinema.’
‘Yay!!’ yelled Amelia. ‘Is Nick coming?’
‘No.’
Vicki, Craig and Amelia helped Stella carry the dirty dishes indoors, where she left them piled on the draining board waiting to be put in the dishwasher.
‘That’s fine, Craig, you can leave it,’ she said when Craig attempted to put things in the dishwasher. ‘I’ll do it later. We’re in a rush, I just want to get the stuff in.’
What she wanted to do was get out of Delgany Avenue as fast as possible before Nick arrived. She didn’t trust herself to see him because she was so angry. Who knew what she’d say if he arrived? The neighbours wouldn’t have to turn on their TVs to catch up on the soaps: they could just hang out their windows and listen to the catastrophic row coming from Stella Miller’s.
Vicki and Craig left, with Vicki kissing Stella goodbye and whispering ‘Phone me later,’ into her friend’s ear.
Five minutes after that, Amelia and Stella were walking rapidly up the road to the Sandymount train station. There was a huge cinema complex in Dun Laoghaire, just twenty minutes away on the DART train. Amelia was delighted with this unexpected treat and wanted to know what film they were going to see.
Stella didn’t know. She hadn’t even checked the newspaper to see what was on and when. At worst, they’d have to wait an hour for a suitable movie and there were lots of things they could do in the interim, like walk on the pier and watch the yachts. Stella took out her mobile, got the phone number of the cinema from directories, and dialled the film listing line. There were two animated films showing and luckily, Amelia hadn’t seen one of them yet. It started in forty-five minutes and Stella booked two seats. It would be at least half eight before they were home, long enough for Nick to get the message.
On the train home, sated by the excitement of the day, the film and too much popcorn, Amelia leaned against her mother and dozed. Even the thrill of watching the scenery speeding by couldn’t keep her awake, and Stella felt guilty for keeping Amelia out so late. Her temper still hadn’t abated. Watching the film, she’d seen nothing but a blur, her mind running through exactly what she’d say to Nick when she saw him. And she had to face him. Running away and hiding wasn’t Stella’s style. If he phoned later, she’d tell him to come over. If they had to break up, she’d do it face to face.
The sound of a thunderstorm woke Stella early on Monday morning. She sat up groggily in bed, not sure what the noise was. Then another loud crack punctured the air. Rain drummed against the windows, sounding as if it desperately wanted to come in. Stella peered at the clock. Half five. Exhausted by a restless night, she slumped back against the pillows and wondered if there was a hope she might go back to sleep. She didn’t have to be up until seven.
But her mind was racing too much for sleep to be a possibility. She gave it another ten minutes, willing herself to drift off into nothingness, but it wouldn’t come.
‘Shit.’ Wrenching the duvet off, she got out of bed and pulled her dressing gown on. The storm had taken t
he heat out of the air and it was cooler than it had been for days. Stella walked into the kitchen, thankful that she’d tidied up the night before. Facing a pile of unwashed dishes with rock-hard congealed food would not have been a good beginning to the day. Then again, the day was doomed from the start, she thought grimly. Her conversation with Nick the night before had made that inevitable.
She found her favourite rich coffee beans, ground them and made a pot. She usually only made fresh coffee at the weekend. There was never time in her normal morning routine of rush cubed. With a fat mug of coffee in her hands, she sat in her favourite chair in the tiny conservatory and stared out into her courtyard where the rain was lashing the clematis to shreds. An mini regiment of worms were stretching their way across the patio stones, their pink bodies shiny and elongated on their great trek. Why did worms only travel in rain? Did they believe that humans stayed inside on wet days and they wouldn’t get squished by shoes and car tyres? Or were they trying to escape their avian adversaries, hoping that the aerodynamics of wet feathers ruled out flying in the rain?
Stella smiled ruefully. Amelia had only caught one worm captive the day before and now here were scores of them.
Curling her feet up under her, Stella sipped her coffee until the view receded and the picture in her mind was of Nick’s face. How was she going to get through the day without him?
Nick had left two messages the evening before. Both calm and a little sad, asking her to phone him. She hadn’t. Then, she was sorting out Amelia’s school uniform for the morning when the phone rang. Before Stella had a chance to say ‘Don’t pick up…’ Amelia had answered it.
‘We went to see a film and I had popcorn and Mummy didn’t,’ gabbled Amelia.
Smiling, Stella reached for the phone.
‘Bye, Mummy’s here.’
‘Hello, Stella,’ said Nick.
‘Hello.’ Unaccountably, now that she was talking to him, she felt like crying, for all her previous internal conversations where she’d raged furiously at him. Her anger was gone, leaving only a miserable sense that their wonderful relationship had reached breaking point.
‘I’d like to come over…’
Stella’s heart leapt.
‘…but I can’t. Jenna’s staying with me. She and Wendy had a row this evening and…well, it ended badly. So Jenna came here. Lucky I was in.’
Wasn’t it, thought Stella bitterly. But her temper didn’t flare again.
‘I know you’re angry,’ he said.
‘No, I’m not angry. I’m resigned, resigned to our relationship not working out because I’m making all the effort and you’re not making any,’ Stella said. She knew this wasn’t totally fair but she didn’t care. Hadn’t Nick heard a word she’d said that morning?
‘That’s not true, Stella.’ Nick sounded downhearted. ‘I love you, I’d do anything for you, but today was difficult.’
‘How do you think it was for me?’ she asked. ‘You let me down today, Nick. That was bad enough but instead of coming back and trying to sort it out, you stayed away.’
‘I’ve just got divorced, Stella,’ he said in exasperation. ‘I’m trying to rebuild bridges with Jenna and Sara. It’s not easy. I thought today would be good for the girls.’
‘Even though you knew I expected you here for lunch?’ Stella was calm now.
‘I thought you’d understand.’
‘Yeah, good old Stella, understanding Stella. Do you know what happens to people who always understand? They get walked on, Nick. I can’t afford to let you walk on me and Amelia. We can’t be second best forever.’
‘That’s below the belt. I’d do anything for Amelia and you’re not second best.’
‘That’s funny, because that’s just how I feel.’ She wanted him to understand, so she gave it one last try. ‘I love you, Nick, and it’s wonderful the way that you get on so well with Amelia. I’ve always been ready to love Sara and Jenna, they’re part of you, of course I want to love them. Sara’s a wonderful girl, I’m so fond of her. But I’ve never had the chance with Jenna, she won’t let me, she won’t meet me halfway. And,’ she paused for a moment, ‘she’ll never meet me halfway until she knows that you and I have a solid relationship. Can you understand that?’
There was a voice in the background. Stella could hear Nick’s hand cover the receiver so that when he spoke next, it was muffled but she could make out what he was saying.
‘Just a moment, honey. I won’t be long.’
This time, the tears burned in Stella’s eyes. They couldn’t even break up like normal people. Jenna had to be involved.
She reached for the tissues on the coffee table, holding the phone away from her ear as she wiped her eyes.
‘Stella, hello?’ said Nick.
‘I have to go, Nick,’ she said quickly. ‘I have to think. I’m sure you do too. Perhaps we’ve made a big mistake.’
There was silence on the other end of the line.
‘I’ll talk to you later in the week.’
He made no effort to change her mind.
‘Good night, Nick,’ she said, balling the tissue in her hand.
‘Good night.’ His tone was cold.
Stella hung up and, for the second time that day, burst into tears.
Now, in the early Monday morning light, Stella rocked back and forth on her chair, still clutching her cooling coffee. Had she made a huge mistake? That thought had kept her awake long into the night and her dreams had been tortured, restless ones where she woke every half hour, soaked in sweat and burning up.
Her mind flickered back to the last time she’d lain on her bed with her skin slick with perspiration. Had it really only been Saturday night when she and Nick had made such wonderful love? It felt like a thousand years ago.
The fear grabbed her again. Had she driven away the only man she could ever love because her dreams of happy families didn’t happen fast enough? Or had she done the right thing, and said goodbye to someone who had too much unfinished business to ever truly love her?
That was the horrible thing: Stella just didn’t know. There were no definites in life, not like in the law where rules made sense and you knew where you were with them. In life, the rules made no sense whatsoever.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Rose stood in the ladies’ room in Lee’s and examined herself in the mirror. Her clothes were fine: a cream linen shirt and chocolate palazzo pants would take you anywhere. It was the look on her face that was the matter. There were lines of tension in her jaw and Rose decided that she looked as if she was en route to the dentist for two hours of root canal without an anaesthetic. This wouldn’t do. Rose rubbed her temples to dissipate some of the tension and tried some deep breathing. She knew that Holly would get a surprise when she realised that her mother had driven to visit her unannounced, and Rose didn’t want to frighten her by looking as if somebody had died and she’d come to break the news.
Going to see Holly had been a last-minute decision. Rose had spent days mulling over what Freddie had said to her. Strangely enough, Rose found she wasn’t dwelling on Freddie’s remarks about herself and Hugh. Rose understood the dynamics of their relationship well enough to see that Freddie had been speaking the truth. What did occupy her mind endlessly was the thought of how she’d failed Holly and how she might just mend the crack between them if she told Holly the truth of what had happened when she was a baby. Holly deserved to know. Freddie had been right about that as well: the time for running away from unpalatable things was past. Freddie had said she’d be fine on her own all day, but Rose, fearing Freddie would hop up and damage her still-fragile ankle, had asked some of her aunt’s friends to pop into Nettle Cottage during the day.
‘I’m not a child, Rose,’ Freddie had said mildly when she heard of these convoluted arrangements.
‘Humour me, Freddie,’ begged Rose. ‘That way I can go to Dublin to visit Holly with a clear conscience.’
Now Rose slicked on some lipstick and, after one final loo
k in the mirror, walked out into the store. She’d been there so rarely, she realised as she walked through the bed linens and kitchen department. It was a beautiful department store and yet, since Holly had gone to work there, Rose could count on one hand the number of times she’d visited.
The store had changed a lot since her last visit. Now it was spacious and airy, rather like an elegant loft apartment where you could buy beautiful things. It didn’t resemble the dark, cluttered department stores of Rose’s youth. She walked into the international design department, which was where she knew that Holly longed to work. Rose didn’t feel intimidated by elegant assistants eyeing her up from behind the Yves St Laurent racks. Rose had long perfected the art of looking as if she belonged. But she felt a pang of guilt that her dear Holly had no such ability. Holly had inherited Rose’s effortless sense of style but was wracked with self-doubt and insecurity. And was that Rose’s fault? She ran her fingers over a rack of filmy chiffon garments in natural shades and mentally shuddered at the price, before moving on to touch exquisitely folded jeans, each pair delicately touched with crescents of silver embroidery.
‘Do you need any help?’ asked one of the assistants. She was pretty and nicely turned out in a white wrap shirt and black pants, but she was nothing to Holly, Rose thought. And Holly would have asked if she wanted help in a more genuine way. This girl looked as if she was longing for her break and fervently hoped nobody would require any assistance until it was over.
‘No, thank you,’ said Rose smoothly, gliding off.
She made her way down to the basement. The children’s department was busy and Rose was able to stand near the escalator and watch her daughter at work. She and another girl, one with cropped blonde hair, were both at the cash register. Holly was carefully folding up a selection of little garments while the other girl was processing a credit card for a customer. Holly looked relaxed and happy, confident in her work, Rose realised with pleasure. Here, it seemed, her shy youngest daughter was at home. The customer began walking away with her carrier bags and Rose approached the cash register.
