Putting Out the Stars

by Roisin Meaney

  And now, what was Cecily to do? Because she had to do something; that was clear. It was up to her, as Andrew’s mother, to save him, and to save his marriage. She owed it to poor Ruth, if nothing else.

  She wished she had someone to turn to for help – but of course that was out of the question. This wasn’t something Cecily intended discussing – with anyone. God alone knew what people would make of it; she’d be the talk of Limerick if it ever became public knowledge. She could imagine Emily relishing the drama of it all, gossiping about it with her silly friends, delighting in Andrew’s fall from grace: ‘– and my dear, if you heard Cecily talk about him, you’d think he was a god.’ No, that was not going to happen. Cecily was not going to let that happen.

  Somewhere during the long sleepless night that followed her awful discovery, Cecily had come face to face with the distasteful possibility that Andrew had really fallen for this woman – that he might even imagine himself in love with her. So if Cecily managed somehow to bring an end to it, he would be devastated. And if he ever discovered that she’d had a part to play in it, he would undoubtedly hold it against her. But how strong would his resentment be? Might it cause him to turn away from his mother completely? Cecily wasn’t blind to the irony; all the years of making sure that he didn’t end up with the wrong person – all her efforts to ensure that no woman took him away from her – and now, if she succeeded in getting rid of Breffni, she might lose him anyway. The thought terrified her; she knew it would kill her if Andrew turned against her. He was all she had. Laura had never been a daughter to her; it had always been only Andrew.

  Standing at the window, Cecily squared her shoulders. She had no intention of losing him. She was damned if that witch was going to win this time. So, at all costs, Andrew must never know. Somehow, Cecily had to find a way to bring this catastrophe to an end without Andrew’s knowledge of her role in it. She stared unseeing out the window, mind racing.

  Andrew held the bottle over Ruth’s glass. ‘Drink up; I don’t know why you asked me to get it.’

  Ruth smiled as he topped up her barely-touched drink. ‘Sorry, darling – but you’re enjoying it, aren’t you?’

  He topped up his own glass and put down the bottle. ‘It’s great, yeah – and the dinner was lovely too. You went to a lot of trouble.’

  So he had noticed; she’d wondered, when he didn’t comment all through the fillet steaks, and carrots with ginger and orange butter, and roasted potato chunks with garlic and rosemary. She had gone to a lot of trouble; she wanted the whole evening to be just perfect. Because she was going to tell him this evening.

  Mam and Dad had been thrilled, as she’d known they would be. Made a big fuss of her, phoned the others to tell them; they’d barely made the play, with all the excitement. In the dark of the theatre, Ruth had hugged her happiness to herself, hardly noticing what was happening on stage. And in the train on the way back this morning, she found herself smiling at strangers sitting nearby, not minding a bit if they thought her odd.

  And when she finally managed to drag her thoughts away, somewhere between Portlaoise and Roscrea, she remembered the other thing that had preoccupied her on the way up to Dublin. The amazing discovery she’d made, just out of the blue. The thought that had popped from nowhere into her head, slotting neatly into the space that she hadn’t known was waiting for it, and making her look up suddenly from her magazine with a surprised ‘oh’.

  Now, getting used to the new information, the only surprise she felt was that it hadn’t hit her sooner. The evidence she needed had been under her nose all the time; how had it taken her so long to connect the dots? And was she absolutely sure that she’d got it right? Had she put two and two together and come up with six?

  No, she was right – she was certain. It all made sense, and she couldn’t deny the proof that was staring her in the face. All she had to do now was figure out the next step to take. Then another thought struck her – it wasn’t meddling, was it? It was really none of her business . . . what if they didn’t want her help? What if they threw it back in her face, told her that she’d no right? But if she did nothing, she’d never know . . . and she thought of the wonderful surprise it would surely be, the joy that she was going to be able to bring – it must bring joy, mustn’t it? – and her heart lifted. She must be careful though, and do it right. She must figure out a plan of action.

  But not tonight. Tonight was for her and Andrew; and she decided she couldn’t wait any longer – let the Viennetta stay in the freezer for another night. She reached out to the hand that was resting on the table and covered it with hers and squeezed. ‘Darling, I have something to tell you.’

  Andrew took a sip – more a gulp, really – of his wine. ‘What is it?’

  She gave him a radiant smile and said, ‘I’m pregnant.’

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Bref, it’s me.’

  ‘Hi – what’s up?’

  ‘Nothing – just felt like calling.’ Laura giggled. ‘Actually I’m real restless today – can’t settle.’ More giggling. ‘I must be in love.’

  Breffni closed her eyes. ‘That must be it.’

  ‘I know it sounds ridiculous, but I feel like Donal and I are falling in love all over again, you know?’ Quick, breathless words.

  Breffni nodded, smiled, eyes still closed. ‘That sounds great.’

  ‘It is.’ Another giggle. ‘We can’t keep our hands off each other. Oh, by the way, it hasn’t come yet.’

  ‘What hasn’t come?’ Breffni twined the phone cord around her fingers.

  Laura laughed. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t expect everyone to be as one-track minded as I am right now. My period, I mean – wouldn’t you know, the one time I’m waiting for it.’

  ‘Murphy’s Law. You’re probably delaying it, thinking about it all the time.’

  ‘Yeah – but I’m not that bothered really; it’ll come soon enough. Somehow, I just know –’ Laura paused, serious now ‘– Bref, I’ve got a real good feeling about this; I really feel it’s going to work out OK for us.’

  ‘Absolutely; of course it will.’ Breffni opened her eyes, untwined the cord. ‘You and Donal are due a break.’

  ‘I know; that’s what I feel. It has to turn out right, doesn’t it?’

  Breffni nodded at the opposite wall. ‘Of course it does. Let me know as soon as you’ve any news, right?’

  ‘OK. Talk to you soon.’

  The phone went dead in Breffni’s hand, and she hung up and walked back slowly into the kitchen.

  Laura, all excited about getting pregnant. Andrew, promising to tell Ruth this weekend. Herself, trying to figure out how to break it to Cian that she’s leaving him and taking Polly with her.

  All go, these days.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Laura, it’s me.’

  ‘Andrew – what’s up?’

  ‘I . . . I need to speak to you.’

  He sounded odd. ‘Fine – why don’t you come around this evening? We’ll even feed you.’

  ‘No – I want to talk to you on your own. Can you meet me after work, in that little pub near the studio?’

  Curiouser and curiouser; she began not to like the way this was going. ‘Yeah . . . OK; I’ll give Donal a ring and say I’ll be a bit late. But Andrew, what’s –’

  ‘Say you’ll be a lot late. Tell him to expect you when he sees you.’

  ‘Andrew, what is it? What’s going on?’

  ‘I’ll talk to you later, OK? What time can you finish?’

  She checked her watch. ‘I can be out of here at five thirty; how’s that?’

  ‘OK. See you then.’ No goodbye, no explanation.

  Laura hung up, her good mood draining away.

  He’d cried. Wrapped his arms around her and cried. She’d never seen him cry before. Never seen anyone cry with happiness before, let alone a man.

  She was so glad that he was thrilled; she knew he would be. Knew that deep down, he longed for children just as much as she did. Lyin
g in his arms that night, Ruth had felt completely happy. What had she ever done to deserve this? A man she never dreamt would be interested in her – let alone interested enough to marry her – a lovely home, a job she enjoyed, and now a baby on the way.

  They had everything. They were the luckiest people in the world. And the next morning, after waving Andrew off to work, Ruth picked up the phone to break the news to her mother-in-law.

  The doorbell rang as Breffni was mopping up Polly’s Ready Brek spill. Polly immediately slid from her chair and tottered towards the front door, always delighted at the prospect of visitors.

  ‘Hang on, baby – I’m coming.’ Breffni threw the dishcloth into the sink and walked towards the door, wiping her hands on the legs of her faded jeans.

  Cecily wore an expensive-looking camel-coloured coat that stopped just below her knees. She was holding a matching bag and not smiling. For a second, Breffni stared at her, feeling something swooping unpleasantly inside her. Then she said, ‘Mrs O’Neill, hello. Come in.’ She scooped Polly into her arms and stood back to allow the older woman to step into the hall.

  ‘Come through to the kitchen; it’s warmer.’ She closed the front door and walked ahead of Cecily down the hall, and held the kitchen door open with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Polly’s waist. ‘Sit down; can I get you anything? Tea or coffee?’ Damn that she hadn’t cleared the table, that Polly’s scatterings – milky Ready Brek bowl, half-chewed toast – were still on show. That a knife was sticking out of the pot of apricot jam. ‘Please excuse the mess; I was just about to clear up.’

  Cecily sat on the edge of the nearest chair and held her bag in her lap. ‘No, thank you. This is not a social call.’ She didn’t look at Polly, who had stuck two of her fingers into her mouth and was watching their visitor curiously. Cecily didn’t acknowledge her presence at all, just looked past her at Breffni. Still unsmiling.

  Breffni’s heart began to quicken. She turned to Polly. ‘Darling, will you play with your Lego while I talk to the lady? It’s in the sitting room.’ She forced her voice to stay calm as she put Polly down gently, praying that she wouldn’t act up.

  Polly stood, one hand planted on Breffni’s thigh, looking uncertainly at Cecily.

  ‘Go on, lovie – I’ll be in in a minute.’ Breffni pushed her gently towards the door. ‘Make a castle, OK? For the queen.’

  Polly’s face cleared, and she trotted obediently towards the hall. Breffni followed her to the door, pushed it almost closed after her, turned to face whatever lay ahead.

  ‘You know why I’m here.’ Cecily’s voice was ice cold; the words sounded like they were being bitten off before they were finished. She had a twisted expression around her mouth, as if she’d eaten something that didn’t agree with her.

  Breffni said nothing; she was literally struck dumb. She folded her arms and leaned against the wall, heart racing, forcing herself to meet Cecily’s stare. Oh God, she knows. She’s found out.

  Cecily waited a few seconds, watching her, then nodded slowly. She settled back slightly into the chair, crossed her legs at the ankles. Breffni watched her and thought, she’s enjoying this. She pressed her arms tightly across her chest and waited. Hoping to God that Polly didn’t come in; ready to swoop on her if she did, and bundle her back out.

  ‘I know what you’re doing with my son.’ Still in that clipped, cold voice.

  Oh God. Even though she had known it was coming, hearing the words out loud still made Breffni feel something plummet inside her. She wished to God she’d sat down now; crossing to a chair at this stage would look like an admission of guilt. She’d have to stay where she was. She could feel her heart pounding inside her tightly locked arms.

  ‘You’re nothing but a dirty little whore.’ So hard, so cold. Cecily may as well have reached out her carefully manicured hand and whipped it across the other woman’s face. To Breffni’s horror, tears sprang to her eyes; she blinked quickly and bit her lip, glanced quickly towards the door.

  ‘Oh, she’ll find out soon enough what kind of mother she has.’ Cecily’s voice began to rise slightly; her words flew out faster. ‘You threw yourself at him, forced yourself on him. He didn’t want you, you stupid woman. He only did what any man would do if it was offered to him on a plate.’

  Breffni unlocked her arms, put up a hand to brush across her face, didn’t know what to do with her hands then, jammed them into her pockets to stop them shaking. She shook her head and found her voice; it came out cracked and low. ‘No – you’re wrong; he loves me . . . he was the one –’

  ‘Shut your trap.’ Cecily’s voice snapped like a whip across the room. ‘He doesn’t love you, he loves his wife. Remember his wife, the one he goes to bed with every night? The one he chose for better or worse, for the rest of his life?’ When she stopped speaking, her harsh breathing filled the kitchen. Spots of faint colour had appeared in her cheeks.

  Breffni shook her head again, curled her hands into fists in her pockets. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Cecily’s mind was made up – Breffni was the Jezebel, Andrew the innocent darling son. There was no point in trying to reason with her, tell her how Andrew had pursued Breffni, how she’d done her utmost to resist him. She simply wouldn’t be believed.

  ‘Now listen to me, you stupid little tramp.’ Cecily’s voice lowered again; Breffni heard the menace in it. ‘I’ve got some news for you.’ She paused, and again, it seemed to Breffni that Cecily was taking pleasure from this awful scene.

  Cecily leaned forward, stretching her mouth now into what was probably meant to look like a smile, but came out like a grotesque smirk. ‘Good news, in fact. I’m going to be a grandmother.’ She paused, watching Breffni intently. ‘And it’s not Laura who’s pregnant – it’s Ruth. Andrew’s wife.’ She sat back again, eyes locked on Breffni. Awful smile still in place. ‘She’s going to have his baby.’

  ‘No.’ Breffni’s voice was barely more than a whisper; the word flew out of her mouth and disappeared. ‘No, that’s not true.’ Her throat ached, her heart beat painfully against her chest. Her head started turning from side to side; she couldn’t seem to control it. No, no, no. Her face crumpled, mouth open in anguish. ‘No.’

  Cecily nodded, smile rigid. ‘Oh yes, isn’t it wonderful? And how did I hear this delightful news? Why, my son phoned me, of course, just last night.’

  No, no, no. It kept pounding inside Breffni’s skull, clanging like a demented bell. Was she saying it out loud? In her pockets, her nails were digging into her palms; she welcomed the pain, dug in deeper.

  Cecily’s voice was coming at her in waves, fading, getting louder. ‘Andrew was in tears, in fact. So happy at the thought of becoming a father.’ Cecily put her head on one side, almost whimsically. ‘He’ll make a good father, don’t you think?’

  NO. With an enormous effort, Breffni stopped shaking her head, found her voice. ‘It’s not true. You’re making this up. He’s telling Ruth everything this weekend.’ The words tumbled out in gasps; she was breathless after every little phrase. But what did it matter now what she told Cecily? Soon everyone would know. How on earth did Cecily think her pathetic lie would change anything? She squeezed her fists tighter, gathering strength. ‘You’re lying – Ruth’s not pregnant.’

  Cecily seemed genuinely amused. ‘Why don’t you call her up then, and ask her?’ She gestured towards the hall. ‘Go on, I’ll wait here.’ When Breffni didn’t move, she gestured again. ‘Go on. Phone her.’ She sat back, hands folded on her bag.

  A trickle of doubt crept into Breffni’s head. Could it be possible? Could this monster be telling the truth? But Andrew had told her that Ruth didn’t care for sex, had never enjoyed it. He’d insisted that they hadn’t made love since he and Breffni . . .

  ‘Go on. What are you waiting for?’ Cecily sat there, smile playing gently on her lips. ‘Why don’t you congratulate her? I’m sure she’d be thrilled.’

  Something snapped in Breffni – the pleasure that Cecily
was taking, coming here and trying to destroy what she and Andrew had . . . and then, suddenly, she thought but wait – what if it is true? Maybe somehow Ruth had tricked him into having sex at just the right time, and he’d been too ashamed to tell Breffni. That didn’t matter, none of that mattered – they still loved each other, they were still going away together – and Polly was coming with them.

  She stood straighter, gathered herself together to launch her attack. ‘It won’t work. Even if Ruth is pregnant, you won’t break us up. We love each other – we’re going away together; it’s all arranged.’ Her voice sounded steady, reasoned. She took a deep breath, ready to plunge on, ready to order this woman out of her house.

  But Cecily got there first, smile vanished as if someone had taken a cloth and scrubbed it roughly away. ‘You idiot. Can’t you understand yet? How do you think I found out about your dirty little affair?’ She was hissing now, eyes narrowed, cheeks spotted with colour again. ‘I saw you at your sneaky little dinner date last week, when Ruth was safely out of the way. I saw you groping him under the table, like the slut you are.’

  Breffni drew her breath in sharply. Cecily had been in the hotel, had watched them throughout their meal, when they’d been so happy, so excited at the thought of the night ahead. Had seen her put a hand on Andrew’s thigh . . . Colour flooded her face; of all the people who could have found them out, it had to be Cecily.

  ‘So naturally, when he called me last night with the good news, I had to tell him what I’d seen.’ Cecily’s immaculately made-up face was contorted with rage; watching her, Breffni marvelled at Laura’s endurance – still alive, still sane after growing up with this monster. ‘And when he realised that I knew, Andrew broke down, told me everything. How you ran after him like a tart, wouldn’t leave him alone, kept calling him at work, begging him to meet you.’ Her mouth curled with disgust. ‘He said you found the hotel, set it all up, told him you’d be waiting for him. Even paid, he said –’ that horrible smirk was back ‘– you obviously don’t know how prostitutes normally operate.’