by Melissa Hill
She hoped that today would be a good day. She was a little bit nervous about the reception, thinking that perhaps she had been mistaken in omitting her mother’s family from the guest list.
Maureen was barely talking to her over it. For some reason, she had been convinced that Laura could eventually be talked round into inviting them, and had been apoplectic when Neil had finally put the kybosh on it by admitting that the invitations had been sent out two months earlier, and not one had been addressed to the Kellys in Glengarrah.
“It’s nothing but bad manners,” Laura had overheard her mother say to him, and had nearly died with embarrassment.
But Neil was well able for her. “Isn’t it bad manners that not one of them have ever congratulated Laura on her engagement, Maureen? Isn’t it bad manners that they didn’t bother turning up at the church for the twins’ christening, but were the first into the hotel for the dinner?”
It was true. There had been so many Kellys ensconced at the hotel beforehand, that upon the christening party’s arrival, the hotel had actually had to set a second table, while all the while Maureen’s sister-in-law Francis had moaned about the delay in being fed. Laura couldn’t understand why Cathy had never said anything, but her sister was too like her mother, always eager to please, always afraid to risk insult.
Still, neither Cathy nor Maureen seemed all that afraid of insulting Laura. Only that morning, she had overheard Cathy complaining about the ‘cheap tat’ she had to wear with her dress.
But Laura wasn’t going to let any of them get to her. Not today.
She finished dressing and for a long moment studied her reflection in the mirror. She was so looking forward to this, so looking forward to starting married life with Neil. She had been feeling strange about things lately, strange about the business, about her mother, about Helen. But today was about Laura and Neil. The rest could wait for the moment.
There was a low knock and a slight throat clearing outside.
“Can I come in?” Joe Fanning asked.
“Of course, Dad. I think I’m ready to go now.” Laura smiled, her dad being the first one to see her in full wedding regalia. She waited expectantly for him to comment After all, it wasn’t every day that your daughter got married.
“You’re looking very – em – nice,” he said in such a way that Laura knew he had been warned to say it. Her heart sank. “But your mother was wondering if you might hurry things up a little bit. The photographer is downstairs, and she doesn’t want to hold him up.”
Hold him up – where else would Kieran be going? He was her bloody photographer, for goodness sake – and an old schoolfriend at that!
“Fine, tell them I’ll be down in a minute,” she said, annoyed that her mother couldn’t even let her savour a few moments alone before her own wedding. Hurry things up!
“Right,” Joe turned towards the door, paused slightly, and then turned back to Laura. “Whatever happens, love, with your business, with everything . . . just try to be happy. You deserve it,” he said quietly and almost embarrassedly, before heading back downstairs.
Laura looked after him, tears in her eyes. That from her father meant more than any pride-filled speech or words of encouragement. A man of very few words, Laura knew that those few came right from Joe’s heart. She also knew that it was his way of telling Laura not to let Maureen’s antics get to her. Her father was one of the kindest, most patient and easy-going people she knew, and he had a lot to put up with in Maureen. Yet he never complained and merely went about defusing arguments and smoothing over problems without ever losing his cool.
Laura wondered how he managed it all these years. How had he let himself be henpecked and browbeaten by his wife, a selfish woman who didn’t know the meaning of the word compromise? Had Maureen always been that way? Did her mother begrudge and belittle people and their intentions when she was Laura’s age, or had getting older blighted her vision and closed her mind? Laura didn’t know, but she knew that she was determined never to be that way. If Laura had a daughter, she would give her every encouragement possible, she would let her make her own mistakes and be there for her to pick up the pieces. Had her mother ever done that for Laura? The simple answer was no. From an early age, she had tried to stifle her artistic abilities and discouraged her from following her dream to such an extent that Laura had lost faith in herself. It wasn’t because she wanted to go to design college that she ended up there – no – it was because her Career Guidance teacher had recommended Laura should go. A professional person, a person who knew what she was talking about, not an ‘ordinary person’ like Maureen. As far as Laura’s mother was concerned, if a professional person thought her daughter should go to design college, then that was fine. What did it matter what Laura wanted? What did Laura know about things like that?
But then, when it didn’t work out afterwards, when Laura didn’t easily find a job in that field, Maureen had stepped in and insisted she find a ‘proper’ job. She was only too happy to let her daughter’s talents go to waste in an uninspiring and unchallenging office career, her hopes and dreams drifting further and further away with each passing day.
It really wasn’t until she met Neil, wonderful, kind and patient Neil, that Laura had given her ambitions a second thought.
And look where that had led.
Laura shook her head. Today was not the day to be thinking about the business and whether it would or wouldn’t succeed. She wasn’t going to allow her mother’s doubts in her abilities creep into her conscience and ruin her chances.
Today she was getting married, and Laura was going to enjoy every minute of it.
* * *
Nicola and the others waited for Laura’s arrival outside the church. Helen, who Nicola noticed was looking very sexy – possibly a little too sexy for a wedding – had just arrived and was doing her best to calm down a hyper Kerry. Her friend was wearing figure-hugging Lainey Keogh – the hem of the bright, multicoloured dress just long enough to be decent. There was no denying that Helen had a fantastic figure and amazing legs, and judging by the gawks she was getting from some of the male guests, Nicola wasn’t the only one to notice.
“Where’s Paul?” Nicola asked immediately, hoping to finally get a glimpse of this supposed sex-god.
“Oh, he’s not coming,” she said airily. “Something cropped up at work. Last minute, you know yourself.” She indicated Nicola’s neckpiece. “Wow, look at that. It’s gorgeous.”
Nicola caught Ken’s eye. Last minute . . . on a Saturday?
Hopefully this Paul wasn’t just another of Helen’s come-a-day, go-a-day boyfriends, and if he was, she hoped that at least her friend would have the sense not to let him get too involved with Kerry. Although Helen was great like that. She rarely introduced her boyfriends to her daughter, ostensibly because she was unsure of how the relationship would go and, of course, didn’t want Kerry getting attached to someone who could eventually disappear from her life.
For all the giving out she did about Helen’s maternal shortcomings, Nicola had to admire her for that. Kerry had never known Jamie, so it wasn’t as though she needed a father figure in her life. Yet, Nicola thought, it would be good for Kerry and indeed for Helen, to maybe eventually have someone she could call ‘Daddy’. She wondered briefly if this Paul might be that someone.
“You know, we should try and arrange something after the wedding,” she said to Helen. “Get all of us round to the house for something to eat, and you could bring Paul.”
“Yeah,” Ken added, “it would be much easier than meeting everyone at something like this.”
“He really is working, you know – he didn’t just bottle out, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Helen said testily.
“That’s not what we meant.” Nicola decided she had better shut up. If Helen was going to be touchy about it, there was no point in pursuing it. And she didn’t want Helen in bad form on Laura’s wedding day.
Laura arrived shortly afterwards, helped out
of the car by her father. She was the picture of radiance and, as she smiled down at Kerry, who had raced across to hug her, Nicola thought she had never seen her friend look so beautiful.
The ceremony was wonderful. Nicola felt silly for worrying about how she herself would look going up the aisle in front of Laura – although there had been a few curious sideways glances, nobody took much notice of her. And why would they? They were all watching the bride.
There were tears in Neil’s eyes when he caught sight of his wife-to-be and Nicola knew that those tears weren’t just for Laura. His mother had taken a bit of a turn the week before the ceremony and both he and Laura were concerned that she might not make the wedding. But there Pamela was, sitting behind him and looking as well as she could be in a lilac two-piece and a Philip Treacy hat.
Throughout the day Nicola thought she looked very tired and very drained. She sensed that Pamela was struggling to enjoy her son’s wedding reception and, to her credit, a proud smile never left her face.
Today was also the first time that Nicola had met Laura’s family, and her friend certainly hadn’t been exaggerating about her mother, she thought wryly, thinking that perhaps Laura had been too kind in her assessment of Maureen Fanning. For most of Laura’s wedding day, and particularly throughout the dinner, Maureen Fanning looked petrified. Petrified that something would go wrong, petrified that the food wouldn’t be good enough and petrified that the uppity Connollys might not approve of the arrangements. Nicola could see all of this written in the older woman’s anxious face. Maureen was petrified, it seemed, of everything but whether or not her daughter was having a good time and making the most of her big day. At one stage, when Neil had finished his speech and invited his new wife to say a few words, Maureen had looked as though she might go into cardiac arrest. As it turned out, Laura shyly refused, but Nicola thought she knew exactly why Maureen had been so alarmed by this. A bride making speeches, expressing happiness, thanking everyone who shared in her special day? It just wasn’t ‘the done thing’!
Being as close to her own mother as she was, Nicola found it all very strange. Why was Maureen Fanning so self-conscious? Surely she should just settle down, enjoy the day and be proud of the fact that she had raised a daughter like Laura, be proud of the fact that her daughter was today the happiest woman alive? But no, Maureen looked as though she was waiting for the bomb to drop any minute. It was all very sad.
A little after the meal, when the wedding guests were reseating themselves for the evening, a crowd of – well, they looked to all intents and purposes like a horde of Neanderthals – barged into the hall and colonised at least three tables at the top of the room. She had never seen so many young children at a wedding before. It turned out that this crowd were relations of Laura’s that hadn’t been invited to the wedding, presumably because they were loud, unruly and could drink for Ireland. And that was only the women! One of them had nearly toppled Nicola over in her rush to the bar.
Seeing Laura’s wide-eyed alarm upon their arrival, Nicola was sure that one of her parents would have a word asking them to calm down, but lo and behold, there was Laura’s mother smiling and handing out balloons to the kids, who with obvious glee immediately set about bursting them and frightening the heart out of poor Pamela Connolly.
Helen returned to the table then with an orange juice for Kerry, a pint for Ken, and more wine for herself and Nicola. She looked around and made a face.
“Where did that crowd come from all of a sudden?” she asked, then recognition dawned. “Oh no, not the bloody Kellys!”
“Laura’s relations, apparently.” Nicola raised an eyebrow as one of the said Kellys approached their table.
“Jaysus, Helen Jackson, I nearly didn’t recognise ya!”
Nicola was nearly knocked out from the stench of drink on his breath, so goodness knows how Helen felt with him in her face like that.
“Nicola, meet Charlie Kelly,” Helen said drily.
“And you must have had one of them boob-jobs since I seen you last ’cos you’ve a fine pair of knockers on ya today!”
Helen gave him a look that would definitely hurt tomorrow. “Charlie, if you don’t take your stinking mitts off me this minute, you’ll be living out the rest of your days as a eunuch.”
Nicola caught Kerry’s eye and winked. Kerry put her hand to her mouth and gave a little giggle. She knew that tone of her mother’s only too well.
Charlie Kelly wasn’t a bit put out. “Ah, Helen, you’re gone awfully up in yourself. God be with the days when you were happy to ride anything that looked at you sideways.”
Nicola’s mouth dropped open and Ken moved to challenge him, but Helen shook her head as if to say ‘don’t mind him’. She was obviously well used to his blather.
Charlie guffawed. “Ah, relax, sure I’m only having you on,” he said, nudging Ken. “I wouldn’t mind but the likes of any of us couldn’t get next nor near her. So is this the young one?” He sat down next to Kerry. “Jaysus, she’s the spittin image of ya, Helen. Howya, young one, I’m Charlie – what’s your name?”
He extended a huge sweaty hand and Kerry, far from being afraid of Charlie Kelly, as Nicola most definitely would have been at that age (she was even now!) seemed delighted with him.
“My name is K-K-Kerry,” she said taking his hand shyly, and Nicola offered a silent prayer that Charlie wouldn’t make fun of her stutter.
“Well, aren’t you a gorgeous little thing,” he said. “I’d say you’d get on grand with my Shelley. Shelley!” he roared, and a tiny dark-eyed child of about Kerry’s age came running over. “This is Mary – I bet she’d love to see your new Barbie doll, wouldn’t ya, Mary?”
“No, it’s Kerry,” she corrected with a giggle, and Nicola knew instantly that Charlie had mispronounced her name on purpose in order to put her at ease. It worked. Within seconds Kerry and young Shelley Kelly were playing happily under the table with Shelley’s Barbie dolls.
Charlie too seemed determined to grace them with his company for a while longer.
“So you must be one of the bridesmaids?” he said, giving Nicola the once-over, when Ken had gone to the gents’. “Jaysus, you’re a fine lump of a woman! Will you give us a dance later, when the wife isn’t looking?” He gave her a lecherous wink. Helen looked horrified.
“Maybe later,” Nicola answered, with a slight smile, remembering that Charlie hadn’t been at the wedding ceremony.
“Ah, I know a blow-off when I hear one, not to worry.” Charlie was unconcerned. Then he leaned closer to Helen and his voice dropped conspiratorially. “Tell us, whose yer woman over there with the toupee?”
“Charlie!” Helen was shocked. “That’s Neil’s mother. She’s very ill.”
“Oh God,” to his credit, Charlie looked shamefaced, “oh feck it, I’m sorry. I didn’t know . . . I didn’t mean anything by it . . . I didn’t know.”
“That’s all right,” Helen said. “Just make sure that the rest of your crowd don’t start making fun of her – you know what they can be like with a few jars on them.”
Glancing across at the table next to them, Nicola thought she wouldn’t like to see what the Kellys were like ‘with a few jars on them’, when they looked totally smashed as it was.
“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Charlie said after a short while, a thoughtful look on his face.
“Go on.” Nicola wondered what was coming this time.
“Well, is it my imagination – or do you have a rake of sparkly chicken wire wrapped around your neck?”
Chapter 26
A WEEK LATER Nicola and Ken were relaxing in front of the television, Barney sleeping peacefully at their feet, when she got a call.
“Hello, Nicola?”
She smiled. “Hello, yourself. How are you? I’m so glad you rang. I was just talking to Laura about you a while ago, actually. When are we meeting for coffee?”
“Soon, I hope. But look, this isn’t actually a social call.”
�
��Oh? What’s wrong?”
“Well, someone came to see me a few days ago, someone who was asking a lot of questions about you.”
Nicola took the cordless handset into the kitchen and closed the door behind her. “What do you mean? Who? What kind of questions?”
“It was Dan’s fiancée. She was pumping for information about when you two were married. I couldn’t get you at home before now, and I didn’t want to disturb you at work.”
“You can’t be serious! What did she want?”
“Well, she’s a cute one. She let on that she was some kind of solicitor or something. Only for I’ve seen her before, and I knew damn well who she really was, I might have been taken in by it. John pointed her out to me one night.”
“What? She didn’t even tell you who she was?”
“No. She obviously doesn’t want anyone, including Dan, to know that she’s digging around. Obviously, I didn’t say much to her and I told her that the two of us were friends, but only through Dan and John.”
“And?”
“And she said she was under the impression that I had been a close friend of yours, so I told her that if I was such a close friend, why didn’t I even know you were back in Ireland until recently?” She paused. “She was very persistent. I didn’t really take to her, to be honest.”
Nicola couldn’t believe it. If Dan’s fiancée was looking for information about her, then she must know that she and Dan had met up again lately. Maybe she was the jealous type, Nicola thought, recalling how unnerved Ken had been by it all. But surely if Dan had told her everything, then she’d know there was absolutely no reason for her to be jealous.
“Do you think I should tell Dan about this?” she said, thinking out loud.
