Foreign Affairs

by Patricia Scanlan

  Kit and she had been very worried about what would happen if Ellen, his estranged daughter, accepted her invitation to the wedding. Kit had agonized over whether to invite the family or not but Brenda wanted her cousins there. Tough luck if Grandpa Myles was uncomfortable about it. Ellen decided not to go. She would not let bygones be bygones even at this stage of her life. Pamela, her husband and Susan came, but kept well out of their grandfather’s way and the occasion passed off without incident. It was a wonderful wedding. It was an awful shame that it was almost over.

  ‘Come on, you’d better get out of your dress and into your going-away outfit before the band decide to finish up. Everybody wants to do an arch for you.’ Jennifer interrupted her reverie.

  ‘I hate taking the dress off,’ Brenda said, smoothing the lovely shiny material.

  ‘I know, it’s a lovely dress.’ Jennifer eased the veil off Brenda’s hair.

  ‘I know you’re probably a bit upset that I got in before you, Jenny,’ Brenda said hesitantly. ‘I didn’t do it on purpose or out of malice. It was just . . . it was because I didn’t want any delays in case anything went wrong. I’d have died if Shay had changed his mind and got cold feet. You probably think I’m mad, but I really wanted to be married more than anything else. It’s all right for you, you’re four years younger than me. I’ll be twenty-seven this August. Practically thirty you might as well say, I couldn’t delay things . . .’ Her tone was supplicating. Brenda felt she owed her sister some sort of explanation. Jenny and Ronan didn’t exactly dance up and down when they heard her wedding plans. She saw Jennifer take a deep breath. Then, to Brenda’s delight and relief, her sister put her arms around her and hugged her warmly.

  ‘I hope you’ll be very happy, Bren. I’m glad you’ve got what you wanted. Shay’s a lovely fella.’

  ‘I know,’ Brenda felt a lump in her throat as she hugged her younger sister back. Jenny was a real old softie and always had been. ‘Thanks for everything, Jenny. This has been the best day of my life.’

  ‘Come on. Don’t get maudlin!’ Jenny said crisply. ‘If you don’t get a move on the band will be gone and so will the guests.’

  ‘Right,’ Brenda agreed, stepping out of her beloved dress. She was wearing a silken white slip, and her skin gleamed golden in contrast. ‘The sunbeds did a good job, didn’t they?’ She admired her colour approvingly.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jennifer sighed enviously. ‘I wish I was off to the Canaries for two weeks.’

  ‘I can’t wait,’ Brenda said excitedly. ‘Two weeks in the sun is just what I need. Life can only get better.’ She gave a happy laugh and slipped into her posh new suit. She caught sight of her suitcase, packed with summer clothes. What bliss it would be to leave February’s wet cold dreary weather behind. Her glance alighted on the neatly handwritten labels. Mrs Brenda Hanley . . . She smiled. Brenda Myles no longer existed. She was not sorry to see the back of her.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Brenda gloried in the warmth of the sun as she lay on a lounger beside a glittering pool, under skies so blue and bright she had to wear sunglasses. She could see Shay sitting in the shade of the building on the balcony of their whitewashed apartment across the terrace. He wore a big hat on his head and socks on his feet. He was reading a thriller. Shay was not one for the sun or the heat, Brenda thought regretfully. She loved it. Jennifer, Kathy and Beth had given them the honeymoon as a wedding present. Two glorious weeks in Tenerife. Jennifer arranged it all and got it at a good price with TransCon. A huge basket of fruit and a bottle of champagne were waiting for them when they arrived. And the couriers were making a terrific fuss of them. It was great having a contact in the travel world, Brenda thought happily, stretching out like a cat.

  It was late in the afternoon, her favourite time for sunbathing. They were into the second week of their honeymoon and her tan was coming along nicely. Today, she decided, she would risk using oil. She’d been extremely careful, and used high protection factors at the beginning. But the end of the holiday was in sight and she wanted to go home with a fantastic tan. If she started to use oil instead of sun milk, that would really bring it up. She sat up and rooted into her beach bag and pulled out a bottle of Ambre Solaire. Brenda uncapped it and inhaled its scent appreciatively. She adored the smell of suntan oil, it was so evocative of sunny climes. It always reminded her of that first exciting holiday abroad and her almost foreign affair with the sexy Raul. That first holiday had been special. She’d been on holidays since, of course. Holidays arranged by Jennifer. After all, it was a bit daft to cut off her nose to spite her face just because of Paula Matthews.

  Brenda scowled as she slathered oil on her limbs. That was another reason she wanted a super-duper tan. It got up her nose that Paula always sported a tan. She invariably had an aura of glowing vitality that was immensely attractive. Brenda wanted to emulate her for as long as the tan lasted. She might even treat herself to a few sunbeds when she got home.

  She hadn’t invited Paula to the wedding. After all, she was Jenny’s friend, not hers. Kit wanted to invite her. She considered her a friend of the family and was quite happy for her to come to the main event. Brenda said an emphatic no. There were other people she’d much prefer to invite. She’d sent her an invitation to the afters. After all, she did want Paula to see her in all her finery, looking her very best. She wanted to feel smug and superior in her married state. Brenda felt she was one up on her old adversary. She wanted to rub it in. Paula left it to the last minute to say she wouldn’t be making an appearance at the evening do. She had some trade reception to attend. Brenda was quite miffed at her non-appearance. Paula, as usual, had done her out of her small victory.

  Brenda lay back on her lounger and let the slanting rays of the evening sun brown her oiled limbs. She spent a very pleasant hour imagining herself with a fantastic tan, arm in arm with Shay, bumping into Paula, whose jaw would drop at the stunning sight in front of her and whose eyes would glitter with ill-concealed envy at the sight of the wide gold wedding ring on Brenda’s left hand. It was a nice little fantasy. It made her feel good, she thought drowsily before she fell into a light doze.

  A shriek from the balcony jerked her to wakefulness. Shay was frantically waving his book at some insect that was attacking him. Brenda felt a stab of irritation. Could she not even relax on her lounger for half an hour without some drama to disturb her?

  ‘It’s the last time I’m coming on a sun holiday, Bren,’ he scowled as she went to his assistance. ‘This place is full of wild animals. And the heat is killing me.’

  ‘Go and sit in a cold bath for a while,’ she said unsympathetically. She’d been listening to his moans for the last eleven days. It was taking all the good out of the honeymoon. ‘And don’t forget it’s the Mr & Mrs competition tonight. I’ve entered our names.’

  ‘Oh, Brenda! Do we have to? I hate things like that,’ Shay protested.

  ‘Ah come on, Shay, stop being such a party-pooper. It will be great fun.’ She tried to keep the irritation out of her tone. Honestly, Shay was such a stick-in-the-mud sometimes.

  ‘It’s not my scene, Bren, you know that,’ Shay muttered.

  ‘Is anything your scene?’ she asked sarcastically.

  ‘It was your idea to come here, not mine,’ Shay argued. ‘It was all arranged before I knew anything about it.’

  Brenda could not deny the fact. She had arranged the honeymoon to suit herself and had assumed that Shay would be delighted with her plans. She didn’t want to fight with him. It would spoil things. It was hard to keep civil though because he was very tetchy. The heat was really getting to him.

  ‘Ah, poor Shay.’ Brenda leaned over and kissed the tip of his sunburned nose. ‘Next year we’ll go to Siberia, that should suit you perfectly. No sun and no people.’

  He laughed. ‘I’m not that bad,’ he retorted. ‘We’ll go to your Mr & Mrs thing if it makes you happy.’

  ‘You make me happy,’ Brenda murmured sexily, putting her arms around hi
m and nuzzling his ear.

  ‘This is much nicer than turning to a cinder in the sun and taking part in daft competitions.’ Shay stroked his hands along the smoothness of her bronzed back and started to kiss her. The evening shadows deepened and the light turned to dusk bathing the room in an amber glow as Brenda and Shay made passionate love on the sofa.

  Later in the bathroom, as Brenda prepared for her night on the town, she opened her toilet bag to get out her deodorant. A full packet of the pill lay at the bottom of the bag, untouched. Shay would have a fit if he knew she wasn’t taking them. Brenda felt no guilt at her deception. She wouldn’t be taking them again for a while. The sooner she got pregnant the better, as far as she was concerned. The agreement was that she would leave work after her maternity leave. Shay presumed that she wouldn’t want to get pregnant immediately. He didn’t know that Brenda had no desire to be bossed around by Bugs Bunny Powers one minute more than she had to.

  She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bright, her hair was getting nice tints, because she sat on the balcony in the evenings with lemon juice in it. She had the best tan ever. And maybe, right now, she was pregnant already. Bubbles of anticipation fizzled through her. It would be wonderful having a baby. Kathy and she could have coffee mornings and watch their toddlers play happily. It would be nice strolling down to the shops or around Johnstown Park pushing her pram. All the neighbours would peer in and congratulate her on her son or daughter. It was marvellous that she’d got a house so near home too. Maybe she should have looked at a few more, as Shay had advised, but the one up near the terminus had come on the market and she’d jumped at it and persuaded him to buy it.

  It had a good back garden for children to play in. That was one of the arguments she’d used.

  ‘We won’t be having children for a while. We don’t have to rush anything. I think we should see the new ones out in Swords,’ he’d suggested.

  ‘Swords is miles out,’ Brenda protested. The trouble with Shay was that he kept putting things on the long finger. If it wasn’t for her they’d never have had a house, and if it wasn’t for her, they’d probably be forty before she got pregnant. Just as well that she was able to persuade him to her way of thinking most times. She’d got her house with the big back garden. And if things went to plan maybe a child would be playing in it sooner than he thought, Brenda reflected happily as she applied some grey eyeliner to her lower eyelid. If all went as she hoped there’d be a baby in the house for Christmas.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  ‘Oh hell!’ Jennifer cursed.

  ‘What’s up?’ Ronan poked his head around the sitting-room door.

  ‘They’ve painted over the wallpaper underneath the first layer. It’s going to be almost impossible to strip. I’m sick of this.’

  ‘Well if you will insist on buying an old house with character,’ Ronan said in an ‘I told you so’ tone of voice.

  Jennifer threw her damp sponge at him. He picked it up, dipped it in the bucket of water and waved it menacingly as he advanced towards her. Jennifer shrieked and took to her heels.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ she warned.

  ‘Too late,’ Ronan taunted as he chased her upstairs.

  ‘Ronan. Stop. Stop,’ Jennifer screeched as he caught her and gently began to squeeze the sponge.

  ‘What’s it worth?’ he demanded.

  ‘I might give you a kiss,’ she giggled.

  ‘Not enough.’ Ronan squeezed again and a trickle of water ran down the side of her face.

  ‘It’s all you’re going to get,’ she teased.

  ‘I don’t want your kisses, woman. I want half that Crunchie you have in your jacket pocket.’

  ‘That’s not fair! You ate yours. You couldn’t wait until we were having a cup of tea. You’re always the same,’ Jennifer protested.

  ‘I offered you a bite.’ Ronan shook the sponge threateningly.

  ‘Big deal!’ snorted Jennifer. ‘You’re looking for half of mine.’

  ‘This is the woman who’s going to share all my worldly goods, and she won’t even give me half a measly Crunchie.’

  ‘I’ll give you a bite when we have our tea if you behave yourself,’ Jennifer said.

  ‘I don’t want to behave myself.’ Ronan dropped the sponge and started to kiss her. Jennifer wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back passionately. They kissed and caressed, lying on the bare floorboards of the back bedroom. Since they’d had to postpone their wedding, because of Brenda’s nuptials, they’d discussed sleeping together. Although she wanted very much to sleep with Ronan, Jennifer knew all the good would be taken out of it afterwards because she’d feel guilty. Ronan knew and understood this and he never put pressure on her. He wanted their first time to be a happy momentous occasion for them. He didn’t want it to be ruined for Jennifer. But it was difficult. They were young and healthy and in love and now they had to wait far longer than they’d planned.

  A knock on the front door interrupted their passion.

  ‘Who the hell is this?’ Ronan muttered, fixing his clothes. Jennifer fastened the buttons on the old shirt she was wearing and pulled up the zip of her jeans.

  ‘Want to buy a line, Mista?’ A young lad of about ten stood at the door with a card and pen.

  ‘No!’ growled Ronan.

  ‘What’s it for?’ Jennifer asked, noting the boy’s crestfallen look.

  ‘It’s for the school, Missus. De furst prize is five hundred pounds. Second, a TV. An’ third’s a bottle of whiskey,’ he said hopefully.

  ‘How much?’ she asked.

  ‘Fifty pence, Missus.’

  ‘All right, we’ll have two then,’ Jennifer said, ignoring Ronan’s deep sighs. She filled out their names on the sheet and rooted in her bag for a pound.

  ‘Here.’ Ronan took one from the pocket of his jeans and handed it to the young collector. ‘We’d better win,’ he said.

  ‘I hope ya do, Mista,’ he said cheerfully, pocketing the money. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re as soft, Jenny Myles. I can see we’re going to end up in Stubbs Gazette the way you’re going on,’ Ronan declared.

  ‘Ah, did you see the little face of him, Ronan? He was thrilled with himself when he sold two lines. And we might win,’ she smiled, hugging her boyfriend. ‘Come on, we’ll have a cup of tea and I’ll share my Crunchie and then we’ll get back to work.’

  They sat on two upturned boxes in the kitchen, drinking tea and eating chocolate. It was a small kitchen. The house itself was small, a two-up, two-down, redbrick house in Drumcondra. They’d decided, after much discussion, to go for a small house first. They had also decided not to have children in the first few years of their marriage, until Ronan got himself established in his career. He was working in a computer firm, developing programs for software. It would lead to greater things, he assured Jennifer.

  She was now Kieran Donnelly’s secretary. Helen had gone on maternity leave and decided she wasn’t going to continue working after the birth of the baby so Kieran paid for Jennifer to do an intensive word-processing course and then a short secretarial course before Helen left. Jennifer had worked in the office with Helen for a few weeks before Helen left and now she enjoyed organizing Kieran and his office.

  He was good to work for. He let her make decisions and use her initiative. He wasn’t always breathing down her neck. She missed being abroad sometimes. But she was far happier to be at home with Ronan than gadding about the continent like Paula. Jennifer knew she was lucky to get the office job. It suited her, just as Paula’s challenging new career suited her. If it wasn’t for Brenda and her wedding everything would have been perfect.

  She’d been shocked when Brenda had breezed in and announced she was engaged and that she was getting married early the following year. Jennifer and Ronan had tentatively decided to wed that May but hadn’t said anything much about it until they were sure their plans would work out. Jennifer had mentioned it casually in conversation with Brenda. That w
as why she felt terribly hurt that her sister had made her own arrangements with a callous disregard for her and Ronan’s plans. Brenda hadn’t even the decency to discuss it with her. Even if she’d said do you mind, Jennifer wouldn’t have felt as bad. But Brenda just steamrolled ahead. She was getting married in February and that was that.

  Kit wouldn’t object to another wedding that same year, she assured Jennifer. But Jennifer demurred. She knew it was an expensive time, even if she and Ronan paid for their own wedding. A wedding was a hectic time, especially for the bride’s mother, and Kit would have been exhausted after two weddings in quick succession. There was nothing to do but grin and bear it. But it was hard, especially when Brenda waltzed in after her honeymoon, tanned and glowing and full of the joys of spring, and said Tenerife was OK, but she preferred Spain. After all the trouble Jennifer had gone to. She’d made sure that there was a basket of fruit and a bottle of champagne in the apartment when they arrived. And she’d booked the best apartment for them. Brenda might have preferred Spain, but she could have kept it to herself.

  Talk about gratitude! Ronan went red in the face when he heard this and there’d have been a row, except that Jennifer kicked him in the shins. Ronan often said that Brenda took Jennifer for granted and it annoyed him very much. There were times when she’d say or do something and he’d be dying to have a go at her. He would have let Brenda have a piece of his mind except that he knew it would upset Jennifer, who hated rows of any sort.

  Ronan was furious when he heard about Brenda’s wedding plans. Jennifer had a terrible job persuading him not to say something that would cause a row. She couldn’t blame him. She was mad herself. But if a quarrel started who knew where it would end and things that were said in the heat of anger could never be unsaid.