‘Sally-Ann might need her earplugs in,’ Yvonne remarked, settling herself comfortably.
‘Why?’ murmured Breda, who was half asleep already.
‘Because when we all start snoring, her hollerin’ is going to be well and truly drowned out.’
They all guffawed and were snoozing long before Sally-Ann put the key in her front door.
‘Oh, look at those rugs. I’d love one for the dining room!’ Mary exclaimed, detouring to a stall which had a colourful selection hanging from display racks. ‘That terracotta and gold one would be perfect.’
‘And how exactly are you going to get it home . . . fly it?’ Yvonne deadpanned.
‘Ha ha! Smarty pants,’ Mary retorted good-humouredly. ‘We’ll say nothing about the giant ceramic turtle we had to lug home for you the last time we were away.’ Yvonne loved ceramic turtles and had quite the collection from their jaunts abroad.
Anna giggled. It was market day in San Antonio on the third day of their mini break and they were thoroughly enjoying browsing among the stalls. They had got up early, eaten breakfast on the balcony and had headed out in high spirits.
‘Let’s have a coffee in that lovely shaded café under the archway,’ Breda suggested a little later as the sun rose higher and more people began to crowd into the market.
The peace and shade of the neat Moorish-style square through a stone archway that led off a narrow cobbled side street was a welcome contrast to the noisy hustle and bustle of the market. An ornate fountain poured a soothing waterfall and the birds sang in the green trailing ivy that covered the walls of the buildings. Orange blossoms perfumed the air and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and croissants straight out of the oven mingled with the floral scents.
‘Oh this is the life.’ Anna dropped her shopping bags and stretched her legs under the round table that stood in the shade of the old courtyard walls. They gave their order to the waiter and sat enjoying the peaceful ambiance of their surroundings.
They were finishing a second cup of coffee when Anna’s phone tinkled and she scrolled through her messages and made a face.
‘Who’s annoying you?’ Yvonne asked lazily, eating the last crumb of a flaked almond croissant.
‘It’s a text from Jeananne Mangan.’
A universal groan greeted that news. Jeananne ‘we’re going to our villa in Antibes’ Mangan was a real pain in the butt.
‘What does she want?’ Mary made a face. ‘Posting up a photo of her new Jimmy Choo shoes, or her Tom Ford blusher! Or her sea views in Antibes, no doubt. Here, let me take a photo of my M&S loafers and impress the hell out of her.’ She waved her baby-blue, summer-shod feet in the air.
The others laughed.
‘Hi, Anna, long time no see.’ Anna read out, squinting to see the message on her screen. ‘I heard you’ve bought an apartment on the Costa del Sol. We’re going to our villa in Antibes for a month next week. If you’re over Roger and I could drive down and stay a couple of days and catch up—’
‘OMG! Sneery Hole Mangan and Jeananne! Imagine being stuck in close quarters with them for a few days. A fate worse than death!’ Mary wrinkled her nose.
‘She is just such an opportunist,’ Breda remarked as Anna snapped her phone shut and put it in her bag.
‘And they’re so mean! I’ve never met such a miserly couple,’ Yvonne added.
‘I know. Austen would go mad if they came down here. Did you ever see Sneery Hole’s tweets? He’s so pompous and superior and such a know-all. He just LOVES Twitter. And it’s perfect for him, the little notice box,’ Anna grimaced.
‘She’s as bad! And does she love to show off, posting on Facebook about her never-ending social life.’
‘Not to mention her prize-winning garden—’
‘And the villa in Antibes—’
‘And the designer shoes and handbags—’
‘And my God, she is so attached to that selfie stick thing.’
‘Talk about posing! Looking ever so “surprised” with those big doe eyes, and the tattooed eyebrows and botoxed this and fillered that,’ they bitched, and then hooted laughing long and loudly.
‘Oh God, we’re right wagons.’ Anna wiped the tears from her eyes.
‘Yeah, real bitches,’ grinned Yvonne.
‘Huh! With the likes of Roger and Jeananne you couldn’t possibly not be bitchy!’ Mary jeered.
‘It’s only because we’re on holliers. What goes on in Spain, stays in Spain.’ Breda poured them all more coffee.
‘We’ll probably have to ask them to the wedding though,’ Anna sighed.
‘Don’t put Sneery Hole sitting beside me because he might get a kick up his hole.’ Yvonne scowled, remembering a barbecue of theirs he’d crashed, and, after eating his fill and in his cups, had said condescendingly, ‘What am I doing sitting in a boring back garden drinking cheap red wine when I could be in Antibes?’ She was particularly incensed because he’d drunk a full bottle of Bin 555 – certainly not a cheap red – and then gone rooting in their drinks cupboard and helped himself to a treble brandy.
‘Why do you have to ask them?’ Breda was aghast.
‘Well you know the way Chloe socializes with their two . . .’
‘Mine socialize with them as well but that pair will not be coming to any weddings that we have,’ Yvonne retorted. ‘I think you’re mad. And they get nasty when they’re drunk, the pair of them. Dissing everyone around them.’
Anna groaned. She’d been trying not to think of the wedding while she was away, but it was looming on the horizon and decisions were going to have to be made about who was coming.
‘I do feel for you, Anna, you’re the first of us to have a wedding on her hands,’ Mary said sympathetically. ‘Frankly I’ve always thought Gretna Green was a great idea!’
‘It’s the utter waste of money,’ Anna exclaimed exasperatedly. ‘Limos, chocolate fountains, three-day hen parties, favours! Don’t get me going.’
‘They really get on my nerves. Favours!’ snorted Mary. ‘It’s far from favours they were reared. I thought the bride and groom got wedding presents from the guests, not the other way around.’
‘Chloe wants a big bash. Her father and I are giving them a generous lump sum but we’d much prefer them to use some of it towards a deposit for a house and scale down the wedding. There’s no talking to her. This generation is all about entitlement and show and me, me, me. I ask myself was it the way I reared her—’
‘Don’t beat yourself up, Anna, we all gave all our kids things we never had or aspired to have. They’re the Celtic Tiger generation. They never faced what we did in the eighties, emigration, unemployment and the like; but when the property bubble bursts at home, and the economy starts to slide, it will be a different kettle of fish,’ Mary observed.
‘Exactly! That’s what worries me.’
Anna’s phone pinged again and she glanced at it. ‘Speak of the devil.’ She threw her eyes up to heaven and opened the text.
Can I have the Hen Party in La Joya, probs from Thurs to Sun? Is there a cheap hotel nearby for the rest of the gang? Can u suss it out for me while you’re there? XXX
‘Listen to this and don’t laugh, she wants to have her hen party here. A long weekend. I’ve to suss out a cheap hotel nearby.’ Anna shook her head in disbelief. What planet is she on? How much is that going to cost? If Austen hears that she’s planning to go abroad for her hen party he’ll go ballistic. They’re going to the Maldives for their honeymoon!’
‘She won’t get cheap flights to Malaga for a hen party. Ryanair are sometimes dearer than Aer Lingus. I’ve never got a real bargain flight in all the years I’ve been coming out here, because Malaga’s one of the most lucrative runs,’ Mary pointed out.
‘I’ve just decided she’s not getting all that money into her hands. We’ll pay for the wedding ourselves from our own account. And then give the rest of it to her in dribs and drabs for necessities. I’m not having our hard-earned cash squandered on nonsense,’
Anna said with an angry glint in her eye, as she responded.
Absolutely NOT, Chloe. And don’t even mention that you are considering going abroad for a hen party to your father. We’ll talk when I get home. This is all getting out of hand and you need to be realistic.
‘She’ll probably get in a huff now and not speak to me for a week,’ Anna scowled, pressing send. ‘As if we haven’t enough to worry about with Tara and the baby,’ she grumbled, taking a long gulp of her drink. ‘At least she doesn’t want a big wedding. She’s talking about a registry office marriage and a hand-fastening ceremony at the Hill of Tara, her namesake’s ancient monument. You should have seen Austen’s face when she came out with that one.’
‘That sounds fantastic,’ Yvonne enthused. ‘Really authentic for her because she’s so into nature, and earth energy. And you won’t have to spend a fortune on it either.’
‘I was dubious when she first floated the idea but it’s beginning to look more appealing by the second.’
‘Look, don’t think about any of it now, we came away to have a break from real life and all its stresses and strains. Let’s go back to La Joya, have a read and a swim and then have a glass of Prosecco,’ Breda suggested.
‘Prosecco, the answer to everything,’ Yvonne joked while Mary extracted the kitty purse from her bag and signalled for the bill.
I wish Prosecco was the answer to everything. And I wish this break would never end, Anna thought dejectedly a few hours later, reading a text from her eldest daughter to say that she was on a drip in the Rotunda Maternity hospital because she had a kidney infection and she was being kept in overnight because of dehydration.
You’re in the best place, pet. I’ll see you tomorrow. Come and stay with us for a night or two when you get out of hospital, she texted back, feeling a flutter of anxiety. Tara was not having the easiest pregnancy. Anna would be glad when it was all over and her first grandchild was safely delivered.
She said nothing to her companions about the latest MacDonald family drama, as, refreshed from a swim, they lounged on the balcony reading and sipping the chilled golden drink from slender flutes, enjoying the balmy breeze that feathered across the sea from Africa to temper the afternoon heat.
Anna took a sip of her Prosecco, trying to regain her earlier indolence. But the bubbly fizz failed to take the edge off her preoccupation. Tara had five more months to go, and if the last four were anything to go by there was a rocky road ahead. And Anna knew that Austen and Chloe would continue to argue bitterly about the forthcoming wedding and she would be stuck right there in the middle, wishing she was back in Andalucía with her face raised to the sun, listening to the ever calming serenade of the sea.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
July
CAL / LENORA / SALLY-ANN
‘You want to stay another week? Hell, Lenora, you’ve been away from Jake for five days already.’ Cal tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice. He knew his girlfriend was struggling with motherhood; he didn’t want to put pressure on her, but he’d given her a lot of leeway and this was pushing it.
‘Look it’s OK for you, Cal, flitting down to Galveston when it suits you, and then flitting back to your family, as well as making your business trips. I’m stuck in that backwater with a cranky baby. I want to be living my life somewhere exciting and vibrant. I’m too young to closet myself in an apartment in Galveston. I had a good life before I met you,’ Lenora snapped.
‘Hey, hey, I don’t “flit” around,’ he snapped. ‘I have a business to run. I work damn hard. It’s that hard work that provides the apartment that you were happy to move into when you were pregnant. You were happy enough as well to abandon your life to fly to Europe with me last year. Be a bit consistent here, Lenora, and own your decisions,’ Cal retorted.
‘Yeah well things are different now. I feel trapped. I didn’t know it was going to be like this when you got me pregnant—’
‘Whoa, Lenora, let’s backtrack there a bit. When I got you pregnant?’
‘Yes,’ she said indignantly.
‘Excuse me but I clearly remember asking you if you were protected, or did I need to use condoms when we started sleeping together and you said you were on the pill, so don’t lay that one on me, Lenora. Take some responsibility.’ Cal was furious at her attitude. ‘I asked you did you want a termination and you said no, you wanted to have the baby—’
‘I didn’t know it was going to be like this. I didn’t realize how entombed I was going to be. I didn’t realize how little time we’d be spending together,’ she shouted.
‘Oh come on, Lenora, you’re a savvy young woman, not some ditz. You knew what my lifestyle was like. You knew what you were getting into. I told you not to give up your job but you said you wanted to be with me. And then you got pregnant without even asking me if I wanted another child. You knew I already had two daughters. I can’t say I was thrilled when you told me you were in the pudding club, but I accepted it and got on with it. I’m providing for you and our child, I’m doing my best for us. You need to adapt to your new circumstances and make the most of them, just as I’ve had to.’
‘Listen, Cal, you led me to believe that your marriage was over and that you were going to divorce Sally-Ann. I thought we had a future together. I didn’t think that future included ending up stuck in a retirement home for the elderly down in Galveston.’
‘My marriage is over, Lenora. It was over in all but name when we met but you just couldn’t wait, could you? You pushed and pushed and pushed instead of letting our relationship evolve—’
‘Evolve,’ snorted Lenora. ‘You men are all the same, wanting your cake and eating it. Why don’t you just admit it, I was your bit on the side—’
‘No! You take that back, I wasn’t cheating on Sally-Ann with you. You know that’s not true, so cut the crap. I repeat, Sally-Ann and I had gone our separate ways in our marriage and you were aware of that, but I do have two daughters with her and I have a responsibility to them. I never led you to believe that I’d move from Houston. And you didn’t object to the apartment when you saw it first. You actually told me you loved it. What do you want, exactly, Lenora?’
‘Oh Cal, stop being so mean to me,’ Lenora begged.
‘Sorry, I’m just trying to be realistic here,’ Cal apologized, accepting that he’d been somewhat accusatory.
‘Cal, let’s move to New York.’ He could hear the excitement in her voice, and wondered had anything that he’d said sunk in. ‘You travel there regularly,’ she continued eagerly, ‘let’s get a full-time nanny, and I can go back to work—’
‘Do you realize that you haven’t even asked me how Jake is? Don’t you miss him at all?’ Cal asked, flabbergasted that she could seriously imagine that he could just up sticks and move a thousand-plus miles away from his daughters and his business HQ.
Silence descended down the line between them. He could hear her sharp intake of breath as though she was right beside him.
‘Not even a little bit?’ he probed, appalled.
‘I’m not mother material.’ Lenora burst into tears. ‘Cal, I can’t help it. I’m irritated and resentful all the time. I’m exhausted looking after him. I haven’t ever felt that wave of love everyone keeps going on about. I’m a failure at motherhood. I hate it. I just want to have my old life back. I want some freedom,’ she wept.
‘You have a part-time nanny. You have some freedom, but you’re a mother now, Lenora. Life changes when you become a parent. Someone is depending on you! Your own child.’ He could totally understand her shock at being tied, he’d experienced that himself when the twins were young – that trapped feeling had led him to be unfaithful to Sally-Ann – but he couldn’t disguise his bewilderment at her almost total lack of interest in Jake.
‘Well I don’t want a child depending on me. I don’t want anyone depending on me. Why don’t you care about what I want?’ she shouted.
‘I do care, I’m trying to do the best for all of us,’ he explained
patiently.
‘No, you’re trying to do what’s best for you! What sacrifices are you making? None. Your life hasn’t changed. Mine has. I have no life, Cal and I’m sick of it.’
‘Are you telling me you want out?’
He heard Lenora exhale in stunned surprise at his blunt question. She was silent for a moment.
‘I don’t know . . . I think so, Cal. I can’t do this. I’m staying in New York for another week to have a think about things. And let me tell you something. You don’t want a divorce, you never have, and I hate being with someone whose heart isn’t in the relationship.’
‘It is,’ he protested lamely.
‘It’s not and you know it, Cal. You need to face up to the fact that you still have some sort of connection with Sally-Ann – and I’m not talking about your kids – and deal with it instead of being gutless, sitting on the fence as if it’s all got nothing to do with you.’
‘Look, do you want to get married? I’ll speed up the divorce,’ he growled, unwilling to admit the truth of her words.
‘That says it all,’ she scorned. ‘Do I want to get married. I mean what kind of a proposal is that?’ she added sulkily.
‘Oh Lenora, grow up,’ Cal said wearily, at his wits’ end with her.
‘Go fuck yourself, Cal, it’s not all about you,’ she shouted, slamming down the phone.
Cal stared at the receiver, shaking his head. How could he have got himself into such an unholy mess? If Lenora hadn’t got pregnant the relationship would have run its course and foundered a whole lot sooner, he admitted. It had been sliding as it was.
At least she’d turned down his reluctant offer of marriage. He wouldn’t ask her again. He’d had a lucky escape and he knew it. Let Lenora have her freedom, he’d be damned careful to lay out the parameters of the relationship the next time he started dating a woman . . . if there was a next time.
Cal heard Jake whimper in his cot and walked over and lifted him into his arms. The infant snuggled in against him and flashed him a melon-slice beam, knuckling his little fists into his dribbling mouth. He was teething and his cheeks were like two rosy cherries. Lenora had been scheduled to return from her five-day city break in a couple of hours. It was Sunday and the nanny had worked until Cal had arrived at the apartment at midday. He had a meeting scheduled in Miami the following morning. He would have to leave before six to get from Galveston to George Bush Intercontinental for his flight. The nanny had told him she was taking tomorrow off, after her five days of baby minding, in the expectation that Lenora would be back from New York.
Orange Blossom Days Page 19
