It was a great booze-up. They stayed in the pub until closing time and then went off to Leeson Street, where they boogied until the early hours. Brenda let her hair down and thoroughly enjoyed herself. It was ages since she’d danced. Shay didn’t like dancing and when she’d been pregnant she couldn’t go dancing anyway. Tonight she was making up for lost time. In the taxi going home, she fingered the elegant gold bangle the girls had given her as a going-away present. They were a good bunch and they’d promised to keep in touch. She must have them all out to the house for a meal sometime.
Brenda loosened the button of her jeans. She’d have to do something about her weight. She was going to be matron-of-honour at Jenny’s wedding soon and she didn’t want Madame Matthews looking like a sylph beside her.
She’d start tomorrow, she thought woozily. To get back to the weight she was when she got married would be her goal for Jenny’s wedding. Now that she was going to be at home all day she could eat sensibly and take plenty of exercise. In no time at all she’d be slim, trim and brimful of energy, Brenda thought with enormous optimism.
Chapter Seventy-Two
‘I look like a big horse beside her,’ Brenda moaned as she sat in the hairdressers beside Jennifer, waiting for Paula and Beth to come down from the beauty salon, where they were having a professional make-up job. The bride and matron-of-honour had had theirs done first.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Brenda, will you give it a rest?’ Jennifer was up to ninety. She was getting married in two hours’ time. Grandpa Myles and her mother had had a row. He said he wasn’t coming to the wedding so there were mega-huffs at home. Poor Ronan had a septic throat and all Brenda cared about was that Paula looked thinner than she did.
‘There’s no need to snap the nose off me,’ Brenda said huffily.
‘You’re my matron-of-honour, Brenda. You’re supposed to support and help me, not whinge about how fat you think you are. I wish this blooming wedding was over.’
‘That’s a nice way to talk about your wedding day.’ Brenda sniffed. ‘And God knows it’s costing you an arm and a leg. Why you couldn’t have been satisfied with just me as your matron-of-honour, I don’t know.’
‘I wanted Paula and Beth to be my bridesmaids because they’re my best friends,’ Jennifer gritted.
‘Oh well, it’s your money,’ Brenda said snootily.
‘Yes,’ Jennifer said coldly. ‘It is.’
‘Only some people have more money than sense.’ Brenda stuck her head in a magazine, leaving Jennifer sizzling with temper. Brenda had done nothing but make comparisons between her wedding and Jennifer’s. She was the same about their houses. Why couldn’t she be happy with what she had?
‘Cheer up.’ Paula arrived and sat down beside Jennifer. ‘This is the happiest day of your life,’ she added wryly.
Jennifer laughed. Paula was a great support to her, jollying her along when family tensions got unbearable.
‘I’ve been telling her that.’ Brenda gave Paula a frosty look.
Paula gave an equally frosty look back. ‘Well let’s start making it the happiest day of her life then.’ She dipped into her expensive soft leather holdall and produced a bottle of champagne. This was followed by four slender champagne flutes.
‘Let’s drink to the happy bride,’ she said fondly, popping the cork.
‘Thanks, Paula, that was very thoughtful.’ Jennifer was delighted.
‘Champers! Oh great,’ declared Beth, who had joined them.
Brenda said nothing, furious that she hadn’t thought of it herself.
They sipped the bubbly and Jennifer began to relax. There was nothing she could do about Grandpa Myles and her mother. They’d have to sort it out between themselves. Ronan was on antibiotics. There was nothing she could do about his septic throat. If Brenda wanted to act the martyr, let her. Jennifer decided she was just going to go with the flow. Getting herself into a tizzy was not going to help anyone and it would only ruin her day.
‘Have another glass,’ Paula urged.
‘I don’t mind if I do,’ giggled Jennifer, getting into the party mood.
Thanks to Paula she was in much better form when they arrived home. Kit met them at the door. She’d been to the hairdressers first and she looked very smart, Jennifer thought. Her mother had gone on a diet for the wedding and she’d lost almost a stone. It suited her.
‘Girls, the dresses are pressed and laid out on my bed. Use my bedroom to change in. Jim and the boys have showered and shaved and they’re in the sitting-room out of the way. Himself,’ she threw her eyes up to heaven, ‘is in his room sulking.’
‘Is he coming to the wedding?’ Jennifer grimaced.
‘Don’t ask me.’ Kit scowled. ‘If he’s not careful, he’ll be going to his funeral.’
They all laughed. And Kit started to laugh herself. ‘Imagine him asking me to phone the hotel to ask the chef to do him a few potatoes in their jackets because he doesn’t like croquette potatoes. And could he have a dish of boiled rice instead of Pavlova. He’s an awful character. I’m more to be pitied than laughed at,’ she declared good-humouredly. Jennifer was relieved. Because good-humoured was not how she would have described her mother earlier.
‘You let him sulk if he wants to. He’s not going to ruin our day,’ Jennifer said firmly.
‘Right,’ agreed Kit.
The four trooped upstairs to Kit’s bedroom and began to change into their gowns. The bridesmaids’ dresses were ice-pink off-the-shoulder taffeta. They were lovely on Brenda and Beth but Jennifer had to admit that Paula, with her golden tan and blond bob, looked stunning.
She stepped into her hoop and tied it around her waist. Paula eased the white raw silk wedding dress with the scalloped neckline over her head and shoulders and draped its rustling folds over the wide petticoats and hoop.
‘Jennifer, it’s fabulous on,’ she exclaimed. She hadn’t seen the finished wedding dress because she’d been in Greece for the past week. Brenda stood with the veil in her hands and lowered it onto Jennifer’s upswept hair.
‘You look beautiful, Jenny,’ she declared.
‘Thanks, Bren,’ Jenny said gratefully, all bickering forgotten. ‘So do you.’
‘Girls, we’d want to get a move on,’ Beth suggested, looking at her watch. ‘The car will be here any minute, and I think I heard the photographer arrive.’
Just then Kit popped her head around the door. ‘Oh, Jenny,’ she exclaimed, looking at her daughter. Her eyes brimmed with tears.
‘For God’s sake, Ma! Don’t start me off,’ Jennifer warned, feeling a lump in her throat.
‘Sorry, pet,’ Kit sniffed. ‘I know I promised. It’s just . . . God it only seems like yesterday I was bringing you to Pappin’s for your first day at school.’ She burst into tears.
‘Come on now, Mrs Myles,’ Beth soothed. ‘You’ll ruin your make-up and if Jenny starts crying she’ll ruin hers and the photographer won’t be very pleased.’
‘You didn’t cry at my wedding,’ Brenda observed.
‘For God’s sake, Brenda!’ Paula was disgusted.
‘You mind your own business.’ Brenda turned on her and glared at her.
‘The photographer wants to know if you’re ready yet.’ Jim bellowed up the stairs. ‘And am I to let the neighbours in, Kit?’
Kit wiped her eyes. ‘I’d better get into my dress.’
‘Here, let me help,’ Beth offered.
‘We’ll be down in a minute,’ Jennifer called, furious with Brenda for being so childish. If her sister started any shenanigans and ruined the wedding, she’d never forgive her.
They fussed around Kit, helping her into her mauve dress and black jacket. It was a lovely outfit and she looked very smart. Paula retouched her make-up for her and five minutes later they all descended the stairs behind Jennifer. Jim stood at the bottom of the stairs looking at them in admiration.
‘You’re all a sight for sore eyes,’ he exclaimed. Gerard and Sean wolf-whistled. Grandpa Myles, unable
to contain his curiosity, opened his door and observed them all with a penetrating stare.
‘All this fuss and faddle over a wedding. In my day, there wasn’t any of this carry-on. Be that as it may, you look very nice, Jennifer,’ he said testily, stepping out into the hall to have a closer inspection. ‘Who’s bringing me to the church?’
Kit gave Jennifer a discreet nudge in the ribs. Jennifer nudged her back.
‘You’ll be going with the boys in the wedding car as soon as the photos are taken,’ Jennifer said cheerfully.
‘Another waste of money,’ Grandpa grumbled. ‘Call me when it’s time to go.’ With that he marched back into his room and shut the door firmly behind him.
‘So put that in your pipe and smoke it,’ grinned Jennifer. At least he was coming to the wedding, she thought. Between himself and Brenda no doubt one of them would start a row but she wasn’t going to worry about it now.
They spent the next twenty-five minutes posing for photos and accepting congratulations from the neighbours. But at twenty minutes to two, Jennifer announced that it was time for her brothers and Grandpa Myles to leave. ‘I don’t want to be late for Ronan and the car’s to collect the girls before coming back for me and Dad, so let’s get a move on.’ She’d promised Ronan faithfully that she wouldn’t be late.
Neither was she. At two o’clock precisely, she walked with her father up the aisle of Our Mother of Divine Grace Church as the music of the wedding march floated over her head. A little over a year ago she’d walked up this aisle behind Brenda, now she was walking up it as a bride. It was hard to believe her wedding day was here at last. It had seemed so long in coming. Especially when they’d had to postpone it. Poor old Ronan, she thought lovingly as she saw him turn to watch her progress up the aisle. It was bad enough getting a septic throat but getting it on his wedding day was rotten luck.
‘Hi.’ She slid her hand in his when she reached his side.
Ronan leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said.
Jennifer felt perfectly calm now that she was beside him. All her nervousness disappeared. This was what she wanted. To be with Ronan for the rest of her life. She said her vows clearly and distinctly, looking into Ronan’s eyes. Jennifer felt very serene as he placed the ring on her finger. She was surrounded by warmth and love as her family and friends looked on and wished them well. The priest invited them to pray that God would always bless their marriage.
Dear God, please let me never fail Ronan. Let me always be there to love and support him and let him be there to love and support me. I place our marriage in Your tender loving care to keep it free from all harm and danger. Amen, Jennifer prayed earnestly. Brenda had told her that she couldn’t wait for her wedding Mass to be over so she could get to the hotel and start enjoying herself. Jennifer didn’t feel like that at all. She and Ronan had carefully picked out the Gospels and readings that moved them. They’d picked their hymns with care. As she listened to the young soprano singing the Ave Maria, Jennifer was very glad they’d both put such an effort into making their wedding Mass as beautiful and spiritual as it was. She felt it was a most special moment in her life. A moment that could never be repeated. She’d remember it for the rest of her life.
She was sorry when the priest said, ‘Now go in peace to love and serve the Lord,’ and then gave his final blessing. The three-quarters of an hour had gone by in what seemed like five minutes.
‘Come on, Mrs Stapleton.’ Ronan took her hand. ‘Let’s go and sign the register.’
It was strange to write Jennifer Myles for the last time. It would take a while to get used to her new surname, she reflected as she signed her name and handed the pen to Ronan. He added his signature with a flourish and then they walked back out to where their guests were waiting to follow them down the aisle.
Outside the church they were immediately surrounded. Jennifer enjoyed being hugged and kissed by the family and friends who were happy for her and Ronan. Even Mr Stapleton gave her a prim peck on the cheek. Rachel hugged her warmly. ‘I’m really glad we’re sisters now,’ she beamed.
‘So am I.’ Jennifer hugged her back. ‘And I hope we’ll be seeing a lot of you. The guest room’s all ready and waiting.’
‘You will,’ Rachel assured her. She was wearing a drab olive green suit which made her look about forty. Jennifer promised herself that she was going to take Rachel in hand and go shopping to buy young fashionable clothes for her.
Jennifer was ravenous by the time they finally sat down to their meal. But when she took the first mouthful of her spring lamb she was dismayed.
‘If that was a lamb, he’d had a lot of exercise,’ she heard Grandpa Myles say quite audibly. Jennifer was mortified. But her grandfather was quite right. The lamb was tough and muttony.
‘God, Ronan, this is awful,’ she muttered. ‘Talk about being ripped off. Wait until I get that creep of a manager.’
‘Will I go and tell them to take it back and serve something else?’ Ronan whispered.
‘They probably haven’t got anything else. It would be embarrassing to ask everyone to hand back their dinner. This is terrible.’ Jennifer was distressed.
‘It’s too late to do anything about it now, Jenny, we’ll just have to put up with it for the time being.’ Ronan sighed. He couldn’t eat anyway but the manager of the hotel was going to get a roasting from him, and he was going to demand some of their money back. Having to pay in advance left you with little comeback when you were ripped off like this. You were at the mercy of the hotel.
Jennifer fretted about the meal. It ruined the rest of her wedding day, despite everyone’s protestations that the meal had been fine. When Grandpa Myles saw how upset she was he went and gave the manager a ferocious ear-bashing.
‘You should be ashamed of yourself, ruining a girl’s wedding like that and embarrassing her in front of her friends and family. If that was spring lamb I’ll eat my hat. I can tell you one thing, young fella, it would be a lot more tender than your so-called lamb! So what are you going to do about it then, matey?’
In vain the harassed manager tried to pacify Grandpa Myles by saying that it had been a long wet winter and the lamb wasn’t as tender as in previous years.
‘Cut out your spoofing, lad. What are you going to do to make amends?’ Grandpa Myles was not to be put off. Much to Jennifer’s delight. Good enough for you! she thought unsympathetically. Give him hell.
In the end, unable to take any more, the manager offered a free bar for an hour. By the time the dancing started everyone was in great form and the meal was forgotten as the guests boogied the night away.
Jennifer was so annoyed about the meal that she told Ronan she wasn’t going to stay in the hotel as planned. She informed the manager that they weren’t spending the night in the hotel and he could go whistle if he thought she would pay for the room. She didn’t give him time to bluster an answer as she swept upstairs to change into her going-away outfit.
‘Where would you like to stay, Ro?’ she asked as they divested themselves of their finery.
Ronan swallowed and she could see that it hurt. He looked at her. ‘It’s up to you, Jenny, wherever you want to go, we’ll go.’ She knew he was putting on a cheerful act for her.
‘You know where I’d like to go?’ she said softly. ‘I’d like to go home to our own house.’
Ronan smiled at her. ‘That’s exactly what I was thinking but I didn’t want to do you out of a night in a plush hotel.’
‘Oh, I’ve got plans for you,’ Jennifer teased.
‘What?’ grinned Ronan.
‘Wait and see.’
An hour later they drew up outside their little redbrick house. Ronan paid the taxi man, carried their luggage into the house and came back for Jennifer. ‘Now, are you ready for this?’ he asked, sweeping her into his arms.
‘My hero,’ Jennifer laughed as her husband carried her over the threshold of their home.
‘What have
you got planned for me?’ he asked as he dropped her gently on to the couch.
‘Go upstairs and get into bed,’ she ordered. ‘I’ll be up in a minute.’
‘I’ll be waiting.’
Jennifer had swiped three oranges from the complimentary fruit basket in the hotel room. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she squeezed the oranges and poured the juice into a long glass, she added sugar, and a spoonful of honey. Then she poured a measure of whiskey and filled the glass with hot water.
‘Be a good boy and take your medicine,’ she instructed Ronan, who had lost no time in getting into bed. She stood over him as he sipped his hot drink. Jennifer kissed her husband on his forehead when he handed her the empty glass. He was very hot. ‘I’ll be up in a minute. I’ll just lock up downstairs.’ She pulled the sheet up under his chin.
‘You’re a wonderful wife,’ Ronan teased.
‘I know,’ she agreed smugly.
She pottered around downstairs, enjoying the feeling of being in her own house at last. Ten minutes later, she switched out the lights, locked the front door and walked upstairs yawning. She was jaded tired. She could hear Ronan’s low rumbling snores from half-way up the stairs. So much for a night of sex and passion, she thought grinning. Well they’d waited this long. Another night wouldn’t kill them. And hopefully by morning Ronan would be feeling better.
Chapter Seventy-Three
‘You made a holy show of me!’ Brenda fumed. ‘Just because there was a free bar for an hour didn’t mean you had to try and drink the place dry.’
‘Aw shut up, Brenda,’ Shay groaned from beneath his pillow. ‘I’ve a terrible headache.’
‘Good enough for you,’ Brenda retorted. ‘I’ve no sympathy for you.’
‘Would you give it a rest?’ Shay growled.
‘No, I won’t give it a rest,’ Brenda snapped. She had no intention of letting her husband away with it. She’d been mortified at the wedding when he’d insisted on singing some dreadfully gloomy Leonard Cohen song that he’d forgotten half the words of. She’d seen Paula Matthews sniggering with that boss of hers and Jenny’s. Kieran somebody or other. He was a fine thing too. He arrived at Jenny’s wedding on a huge black Harley-Davidson. He fancied Paula too. Brenda knew it by the way he looked at her and danced with her and listened attentively to what she said. Paula didn’t seem to be very interested in him. She hadn’t been flirty or seductive.
Foreign Affairs Page 58
