‘Do you like what I got you?’ she asked anxiously. He was pulling the wrapping paper apart, eager to get at his gift, just like a little boy, she thought in amusement. She’d bought him a Bulova watch that gave the date and was water-resistant. It was a good solid watch.
‘That’s a beauty, Noreen. Thank you,’ he said as he studied it from all angles. ‘But I’ll keep it for good wear, this old thing will do me at work.’
‘It’s a sturdy watch, Oliver, I bought it so that you could wear it to work,’ Noreen assured him. ‘Come on, take off that old thing and put it on,’ she instructed.
‘OK, then.’ He smiled, undoing the battered leather strap of his old watch, and slid the silver-links on to his wrist. He had good strong wrists. The watch emphasized his tan. She wished he’d get into bed and kiss and cuddle her and be romantic, but knowing her husband, that would take a miracle. She knew she came a poor second to his work.
‘That looks much better. Now you’ll be home early, won’t you?’ Noreen took a sip of her tea.
‘Why?’ Her husband looked at her in surprise.
‘Well, surely you’re going to take me out to dinner somewhere. It’s our first wedding anniversary, Oliver.’ Noreen couldn’t keep the exasperation out of her voice.
‘For God’s sake, Noreen. I’ve to meet a fellow about a load of building blocks he’s selling because his business has gone bust. I have to meet him. Aren’t the presents and cards enough?’
‘Jeepers, Oliver, have you any romance in you at all?’ Noreen demanded irritably.
‘None, Noreen. You married the wrong man if you’re looking for romance. I’ll see you when I see you and thanks for the watch. Don’t wait for me to eat dinner, I’ll stick mine in the microwave.’ He strode out of the bedroom and she heard him running downstairs, anxious to be up and at the day. It was only seven thirty.
Noreen sighed, pushing the tray away from her. The toast had gone cold and besides, she felt queasy. Her period had come in the night and she was crucified with cramps. She reached over to her bedside table and shook two Ponston out of a container into her palm. She swallowed them with the lukewarm tea. Anything to get rid of those excruciating cramps. She lay back against her pillows and gazed out of the big French window that led to a tiled balcony.
The sun was beginning to rise over the low, rolling hills that surrounded the lake. A light opaque mist hovered over the lake’s grey, glassy surface, faintly pink from the dawn’s pale glow. The view from their bedroom was breathtaking, Noreen acknowledged. Every season had its own template, each uniquely beautiful. She was an extremely lucky woman. Living in the lap of luxury, she was the envy of most of the women in Kilronan for her walk-in-wardrobes alone. Noreen smiled. It was a stylish, peaceful bedroom with a king-sized double bed and gleaming brass bedstead. Although pastels were her own favourite colour schemes, Noreen had decorated the room in creams and terracottas to suit her husband’s more masculine tastes. A luxurious cream Egyptian cotton duvet was highlighted with a terracotta throw and matching terracotta cushions. The shining maple floor was partly covered with a wide fitting beige and terracotta rug that Noreen had seen by chance in a carpet showrooms in Navan. It was the perfect match for her colour scheme and she’d been thrilled with it. Even Oliver had commented on what a good buy it had been. Cream muslin curtains draped the windows, allowing shafts of natural light to brighten the room. It was a serene, restful room. Her pride and joy, not cluttered with wardrobes and dressers and drawers. She had a walk-in wardrobe to house all their clothes and bed linens.
Maura and Rita had been pea-green with envy when she’d shown them around the house. Now they were in the poor relation category, and Noreen revelled in it unashamedly. Neither of them had houses half so grand, which was why she’d pretended to be welcoming and friendly. She knew they were dying with curiosity, and she’d kept them waiting a long time to see it. She’d wanted the house to be perfect. They’d been satisfyingly gobsmacked, not only at the size and grandeur of the house but at her taste. No knick-knacks and ornaments, no garish colour schemes. Just simple understated elegance and arrangements of fresh flowers in every room. She’d read her home interiors magazines and known just the look she wanted. Now she had it and it made her sisters’ homes fade into the halfpenny place.
Noreen knew she was being bitchy, comparing, but she didn’t care. They had made her feel the underdog for so long it was pure pleasure rubbing their noses in it. When they’d seen her fitted Shaker-style cream kitchen with its self-cleaning wall oven and ultra-modern hob, not to mention the working block in the centre of the kitchen, they’d been hard put to speak, apart from saying, a few weak ‘very nices’. Giving her sisters the guided tour had been the most satisfying experience of her life. Which was pathetic, really, she thought dolefully as she placed the tray on the floor and snuggled back under the duvet. She was a grown woman. The eldest of her family and sometimes she behaved like a two-year-old. She should let go of all that old bitterness and concentrate on her new life. Her new, affluent, wonderful life.
When would this ache, this need and want leave her? Maybe she should go back to work, even do part-time nursing. Oliver had told her it was entirely up to herself whether she worked or not. He didn’t mind what she did as long as she was happy. After eventually winding down after the wedding and learning to relax it had been wonderful. Especially during the summer. On hot sunny days she had lain out in the garden in a hammock, with her lake view and a few glossy magazines or whatever novel she was reading, and bronzed herself golden, feeling totally relaxed after the stresses and strains of the past few years. But lately, as the days had shortened and the nights had drawn in and autumn’s nip had made its presence felt, she’d begun to feel bored and restless. She wasn’t cut out to be a lady of leisure. She needed to work. She was on her own far too much.
Oliver often went back out to work after his dinner and the happy anticipation of nights curled up together in front of the fire had so far not materialized. Neither had sitting together in the swing seat she had bought for the garden. Nor had there been much entertaining, Oliver being too tired after work to do much more than sit nursing a pint, she thought resentfully.
Deep down Noreen knew the reason for her discontent. She’d hoped that by now she would have been a mother, or at least an expectant mother. As the months passed by, each time her period arrived she would feel a crushing sense of disappointment. Why was she not pregnant yet? They’d been having unprotected sex for a year now; surely the effects of the pill had long disappeared from her body. She always knew when she was ovulating and made sure to have sex with Oliver as often as she could during that optimum time.
Noreen sighed deeply. She wasn’t getting any younger. Mid-thirties was late for a woman to be starting a family. Why wasn’t it happening? Maybe she’d go to the doctor and have a check-up just to make sure all was in order, she decided, as her eyelids started to droop and the painkillers began to kick in.
It was almost noon when she woke, with a dull throbbing headache from having slept too much. She stretched and lay in drowsy stillness for a while, willing herself to get out of bed. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that Oliver was meeting that chap tonight. She felt too lousy to go out to dinner anyway.
She didn’t particularly feel like cooking dinner for herself either if she had to eat it on her own. She might order in a Chinese when Oliver got home. Such a difference from this day last year, Noreen thought wryly as she got out of bed. Wrapping her dressing-gown around her, she slipped her feet into a pair of mules and went downstairs to the lounge. She took her wedding album from its shelf on the specially built unit that fitted into the alcove beside the fire and curled up on the plump, luxurious sofa with it on her knees.
She began to flick through the pages, smiling at the photos in front of her as memories came flooding back. She had just put it aside and was trying to talk herself into having a shower when she heard a car pull up in the drive. Noreen hurried quickly to the
window. A quick glance made her heart sink as she recognized Maura’s Opel Corsa. She didn’t pull back quick enough and Maura saw her and waved.
‘Oh rats!’ groaned Noreen, as she pulled her fingers through her hair and tightened the belt of her dressing-gown. Imagine being caught by her younger sister still not dressed at this hour of the day. It was even worse having to entertain her, the way she felt. She managed a feeble effort of a smile as she opened the hall door.
‘Not up yet, you lazy wagon? Well, did Oliver remember your anniversary? What did he buy you?’ Maura breezed in. Noreen felt like strangling her. Nosy bitch, she thought resentfully. How dare you come into my house and ask me what sort of a present my husband has bought me. And then she thought: Thank God, Oliver remembered.
‘Hello, Maura,’ she said dryly. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘Just popped in to wish you a happy anniversary. I’ve some news for you too. You look a sight. What’s the matter with you?’ Maura plonked into one of the big armchairs.
‘Periods,’ muttered Noreen grumpily, raging at being told that she looked a sight. Maura was actually looking extremely well. Her skin and eyes were glowing and she was wearing a lovely two-piece.
‘Poor you,’ Maura sympathized. ‘I won’t have them for another six months at least,’ she added smugly.
‘Why not?’ Noreen asked listlessly, not copping on.
‘Because I’m pregnant, silly. I’ve just been for my first scan. Look! Look at the photo.’ She waved a black and white Polaroid under Noreen’s nose.
It was as if time stopped. Noreen was aware of her fingers curling into her palms, and feeling the pressure of her nails as they pressed against the flesh of her hand. Maura was pregnant. Her stomach gave a crazy lurch. She felt physically sick. And the wave of bitterness and resentment that swamped her horrified her. What kind of a mean-spirited cow was she that she resented her own sister’s first, obviously joyous pregnancy?
‘That’s great, Maura, congratulations,’ she said faintly studying the picture with blurred eyes. Don’t let me cry, God. Don’t let me be a bitch. Don’t let jealousy eat me up. She prayed silently to the Almighty, desperately trying to compose herself.
‘Wouldn’t it be great if you got pregnant too, they’d be company for each other?’ Maura burbled happily, completely unaware of her sister’s agitation. ‘Are you and Oliver going to have kids?’
Noreen swallowed hard. Her mouth had gone very dry. ‘We hope so,’ she murmured. ‘When are you due?’
‘Eighth of March according to the gynae. I didn’t really want to tell anyone until the three months were up. But it’s been awfully hard. I’ve been bursting to tell people. Pity Mam’s not here, especially if it’s a girl. She always wanted a granddaughter. That other pair were always so boisterous. Rita lets them away with murder.’
Noreen made no comment. If she said anything critical about her nephews it might get back to Rita one day if Maura was in a bad mood, and she wasn’t having that. ‘At least the winter will be over. March is a good time to have a baby, it will be nice and hardy for the summer.’ She made a supreme effort. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea, Maura?’
‘Lovely, and I’ll have a couple of biscuits if you have them, now that I’m eating for two, I’m starving! Now what did Oliver get you? I bet he forgot, Andy forgot ours.’ Maura stretched her legs out in front of her and stretched happily. ‘Could you pass me over another cushion, my back needs a bit of support.’
Oh, for God’s sake, she’s only three months gone! Noreen bit the inside of her cheek in irritation as she passed another cushion over to her sister.
‘Well! Did he remember? I don’t see any cards up?’ Maura said smugly.
‘He did remember.’ Noreen managed to restrain herself from boxing her sister on the jaw. ‘He bought me a beautiful set of pearls.’
Maura’s eyes widened. ‘Hmmm, nice. Let’s see them – and stick the kettle on, I’m gasping.’
Noreen walked out of the room, fuming. That one was as cheeky. With bad grace she stuck the kettle under the tap and filled it. She flung a few china cups on to saucers and shook out a couple of digestive biscuits on to a plate. She had a packet of Tunnock’s Teacakes in the biscuit tin but Maura could whistle for those, she thought childishly as she hurried out of the kitchen.
She climbed the stairs to get her pearls, heavy-hearted. If she’d been pregnant herself, she’d be glad enough for her sister but she couldn’t help the envy seeping through her as she thought of Maura and the next six months of anticipation. If anyone knew what she was feeling they would be horrified at her begrudgery. She was horrified herself. What kind of a woman was she at all, she thought as her lip trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks. Frantically Noreen struggled to compose herself. She could spend the afternoon crying as soon as Maura was gone, she told herself fiercely. Under no circumstances was she to let her sister see how upset she was. The last thing she wanted or needed was her two siblings yapping about her and what might or might not be wrong with her. She wiped her eyes, straightened her shoulders, and went into her bedroom to get her pearls. She was damned if she was going to show Maura her card. All it said anyway was:
To Noreen,
Love Oliver
and the card itself was fairly mediocre. Cards were not Oliver’s forte.
‘Aren’t they beautiful?’ she said with false cheeriness a few minutes later as she handed the box to Maura.
‘Very nice,’ Maura said flatly. She always said ‘very nice’ in a non-committal sort of way when she was mega impressed but didn’t want to let on. ‘Where’s the card?’
‘I’m not showing you my card, Maura, it’s personal from Oliver to me,’ Noreen snapped.
‘No need to get hoity-toity,’ sniffed her sister.
‘I suppose you’ll ask me what I had for breakfast next.’
‘You don’t look to me like someone who had any,’ retaliated Maura.
‘I’ll make the tea, the kettle should be boiled,’ Noreen said tightly. It couldn’t be PMT. It had to be During MT. But her sister was in danger of getting clobbered. Noreen breathed deeply as she made and poured the tea. Be civil for heaven’s sake and don’t be such a cow, she chastised herself, disgusted with her behaviour.
‘Here you go, Maura.’ She handed her sister her tea and gave a weak smile. ‘You’re not having morning sickness or anything?’
‘Not a thing so far, thank God. I keep expecting to feel a bit grotty but it hasn’t happened.’ Her sister beamed and Noreen felt even more ashamed of begrudging her sister her joy.
‘That’s good.’ She sipped her tea, trying to quell her mean-spirited envy.
‘So where’s he taking you tonight?’ Maura chirruped gaily.
‘Oh! Oh, we’re going to have a quiet romantic dinner at home,’ Noreen fibbed. ‘We’ll probably go out at the weekend.’
‘Of course the first anniversary is always the best, it starts to wear off a little bit after that.’ Maura spoke with authority. ‘Because I kicked up such a rumpus when he forgot ours, Andy took me to dinner in the Clarence and he had a room booked. It was great.’ Maura sighed at the memory.
Little fat poser, Noreen thought sourly as she took a savage bite out of a digestive. ‘Is he pleased?’ she managed.
‘Over the moon.’ Maura was bursting with pride, and in spite of herself Noreen felt an odd little glimmer of affection for her sister that took her by surprise. ‘He’s even started a share portfolio for him or her … isn’t that sweet?’
‘Very far-sighted,’ agreed Noreen, wishing Maura would go so that she could go back up to bed and burrow under her duvet and be miserable in peace.
Maura took another biscuit and settled herself more comfortably in the chair. Her mobile phone rang. ‘Sorry about this,’ she twittered, ‘the phone hasn’t stopped all morning. Hello? Joan. Hi,’ she said gaily and launched into a conversation with the person at the other end.
Noreen sat staring morosely out the window
as her sister chatted nineteen to the dozen with her friend. She had a mobile phone but rarely got calls on it. Oliver never phoned unless he had something specific to impart and she had no friends in Kilronan to chat with. Maybe she should have gone back to London after her mother died, she thought morosely. She’d a good social life there, which was a lot more than she could say about her dull existence in her big house overlooking the lake.
‘Noreen, I have to go.’ Maura jumped up. ‘I’m just going to have lunch with Joan and a few of the girls. I can tell them my news at last. I wanted the three months to be up before I said anything.’
‘That’s understandable,’ Noreen murmured, her relief that her sister was going tinged with envy at the idea of a girls’ lunch. Her own uneventful day stretched out unappealingly ahead of her. She followed Maura to the front door and waved unenthusiastically as her sister drove off happily.
Noreen closed the door slowly. It had started to spit rain. The clouds were dark and threatening over the lake. Bed was the best place to be on a day like today, she decided. She gathered up the cups and plates and shoved them into the dishwasher. The digestive biscuit she’d eaten earlier had given her indigestion and her cramps were excruciating. Wasn’t she lucky that she could go to bed, she told herself. She could be dragging herself around a hospital ward feeling grotty, or stuck on a tube in London. At least she could go to bed and feel grotty in peace and look out at the rain battering against the big windows, and read her book and snooze for the afternoon. The thought made her feel marginally better. She filled a hot water bottle and made herself a cup of hot chocolate. Ten minutes later she was snuggled up in bed, her hot water bottle on her bloated, painful tummy, sipping her drinking chocolate. The wind whistled around the house and rivulets of rain ran down the windows, the soughing of the trees making a soothing lullaby.
Two For Joy Page 7
