‘What’s for dinner? I’m starving! The traffic down was brutal.’
‘I did pork and pineapple with cashew nuts and I’ve a side salad.’ Maggie sprinkled a few sesame seeds into the salad.
‘Oh good. Let me at it.’ Terry took off his jacket, loosened his tie and sat down at the table. ‘I’ve a couple of bottles of wine in the car and goodies for the kids. Mimi, run out and get me a bottle of wine out of the box in the back – and bring in those pink Snacks.’ Shona clambered up on his knee. ‘And how are you, Miss Mathilda?’
‘Not Tilda,’ Shona said indignantly, sticking out her tongue as far as it would go.
‘Oh, that’s naughty. Nice little girls don’t stick out their tongues; only bold bad girls.’
‘Amn’t,’ said Shona, as she pinched her daddy’s cheeks.
‘This is the latest caper,’ Maggie said to her husband as she served up dinner. ‘Ask her how’s her chest and see the carry-on.’
‘How’s your chest, Shona?’
The little girl panted and the faint wheeze that she still had became more pronounced.
‘Could you be up to her, the little minx. She’s as cute as bedamned: she arrived in the other day and asked me to do her physio,’ Maggie said proudly, as she mashed up a dinner for her.
‘She’s her daddy’s little girl,’ said Terry, beaming as Maggie set his dinner before him and called the twins.
Afterwards, when the washing-up was done, and they’d had their coffee, Maggie suggested a walk on the beach. It was a lovely warm evening and Terry was more than agreeable. ‘I missed you,’ he said as they walked along the strand, with the children galloping ahead in front of them.
‘Me too,’ she murmured, almost automatically. Had she missed him, she asked herself. Not really! She had been quite happy being by herself with the children, doing as she pleased, eating as it suited her. It was nice having a whole double bed to herself. It was nice being able to sit down at night after the children were in bed and write away to her heart’s content and not feel guilty about it. It was nice, then, just to sit and watch whatever she wanted on the TV without listening to moans and groans if an American soap or mini-series came on. It was wonderful not to have to listen to or watch sport.
If she was perfectly honest, Maggie hadn’t missed her husband one whit. But now that he was here, she was glad to see him. He had enjoyed his dinner and been appreciative of the effort she’d made and that was something. He’d brought magazines and chocolates for her; he’d even asked her how she was getting on with her writing and been quite interested in the process leading up to publication. He had also brought a message from Sandra Nolan asking her to phone her urgently. The sales and marketing director had given Terry her home number. He put his arm around her shoulder and she smiled at him. Yes, she was glad he was here for the weekend. It was good for the children and it was nice to have some adult companionship for a couple of days. But it was just as nice to know that he was going home on Monday morning and that she’d have a week to herself again.
‘We’re having a barbie. You’ll come and join us, won’t you?’ It was Cathy Roche, from two mobiles up, who called as Maggie and Terry were strolling after their walk on the beach along the winding flower-tubbed path that led to their own place. Maggie’s spirits lifted. She was feeling so much better and she liked Cathy and her children. A barbie was just the thing to finish off a perfect summer’s day. ‘What do you think, Terry? Are you on?’
‘Great stuff,’ said her husband, beaming. ‘I’ll nip into Wicklow and buy a few more bottles of wine and a couple of six-packs.’
‘That would be lovely, Cathy. I’ll just get the gang to bed,’ said Maggie with a smile.
‘Easier said than done,’ groaned Cathy, who had three children just a little older than Maggie’s trio, ‘especially when they know there’s a barbie in the offing, but I’m doing one for them tomorrow so you can tell your lot if they behave themselves tonight they can come.’
‘Excellent psychology,’ said Maggie.
‘Oh, a bit of bribery works wonders. I learned that the hard way, believe me,’ laughed the other woman.
‘But I want to come too,’ Mimi whinged. ‘It’s not fair! We never have any fun. You and Daddy have all the fun.’ It was twenty minutes later and she was sharing a bath with her sister.
‘’S not sair, Mammy.’ Shona’s big eyes reproached her mother as she added her tuppenceworth in support of her sister.
‘Ten o’clock is too late for you to be out and besides it’s for adults only. Cathy is being very kind and doing a barbecue for you tomorrow so I don’t want to hear another word,’ Maggie said firmly as she washed the sand from between Shona’s toes.
‘Tomorrow’s no good,’ sulked Mimi, her bottom lip thrust out stubbornly. Maggie sighed. She knew the signs. Mimi was going to start her shenanigans and Shona, who idolized her older sister and imitated everything she did, wouldn’t be slow to follow suit.
‘Don’t be silly now, Mimi. You had a lovely day: you played all day; I took you to the beach and we went swimming and you had an ice-cream for a treat and then we had fun with Daddy tonight, and tomorrow you’re going to a barbecue with your new friends. Think of the poor little boys and girls who aren’t as lucky as you are,’ Maggie retorted and, with a little shock of dismay, realized that she sounded exactly like her mother. She had always sworn she would not make her kids feel guilty about what they had and here she was doing precisely that.
‘Don’t care about them. I want to go tonight. I don’t want to go to bed.’
‘Don’t want to go to bed,’ echoed Shona.
‘You’re going to bed and that’s the end of it.’ Maggie had had enough. She whipped her younger daughter out of the bath, wrapped her in a soft bath towel and began to dry her.
‘Tickle my toes,’ Shona commanded, and Maggie laughed as she hugged the wriggling little body tighter to her. It was so good to see her precious child herself again and when she tickled her daughter’s tiny toes she relished her great chuckles of laugher.
As she powdered the baby’s bottom and put on her nappy, Maggie cast a surreptitious eye at her elder daughter. Mimi was pouring water out of a bath bucket over her toes, with a surly expression. Being a twin wasn’t that easy, Maggie mused, as she pulled on Shona’s Little Mermaid pyjamas. Because there were two children, they both missed out on the individual attention that is traditionally lavished on the firstborn. Then with Shona coming so soon after the birth of the twins, it was no wonder that her eldest daughter got a bit stroppy sometimes. Terry had taken Michael into Wicklow with him as a treat. Maybe she’d take Mimi into Arklow tomorrow morning and go to Lally Stafford’s bookshop and buy her a book. Mimi loved books and Maggie could see that she was going to be a good reader when she was older. They’d have coffee as well, and that would make her daughter feel all grown-up.
‘Go and tidy up your toys, Shona,’ Maggie instructed her toddler as she prepared to dry Mimi. She didn’t want Shona to hear of the proposed visit to Arklow. ‘Time to get out, Mimi.’
‘Don’t want to,’ sulked the little girl.
‘Come on! I have a treat for you tomorrow, just for you and me,’ Maggie said coaxingly as she lifted her out and wrapped her up in a fresh towel.
‘Not for Michael and Shona?’ Mimi brightened immediately at the idea of a treat for her alone.
‘Just you and me,’ Maggie assured her. ‘We’ll go in to Arklow and buy a book for you and go and have a cup of coffee. Won’t that be nice?’
‘Can I have a Slush Puppy as well?’ Mimi pressed her advantage.
‘Yes, if you’re good.’ Maggie despised herself for her craven submission to blackmail. Where were all her good intentions of being firm in the face of tantrums! She’d be spineless just for this weekend. From next Monday on she’d stand no more nonsense. She dried carefully under Mimi’s arms and gave her a cuddle. She was looking forward to the barbecue. It was nice when something unexpected like this happened. C
athy had been friendly since Maggie had arrived on the site and the children got on well together. The fact that Cathy’s mobile was only two down from her own meant that Maggie and Terry could check on the children every so often and that they wouldn’t need a babysitter.
An hour and a half later she stood humming under the shower. She was really pleased with the way her tan was coming along. Of course she had got a good basis that weekend away with Devlin and Caroline and the few pounds she had lost when Shona was in hospital really made a difference. She must try and keep her weight down, she reflected, as she shampooed her hair. She felt she’d need to look her best when her novel was launched. If she could stay as she was now she’d be doing fine. She’d call Sandra from Arklow tomorrow and see what she wanted her for. Maggie was smiling as she stepped out of the shower and dried herself. It was great to be writing again and whereas when she had been at home and under pressure the revisions had seemed like a daunting task, down here in the fresh air where she was able to plan her days as she pleased they were much less onerous. The children were always within sight and she was actually enjoying the work. If she got through as much next week as she had this week, she’d have most of it done. She just hoped that Marcy would be pleased. The next afternoon, she was going to take herself and her typewriter off somewhere quiet and really get a few hours’ uninterrupted work done.
‘Hurry on, Mags.’ Terry looked round the door. ‘Hmmm,’ he murmured appreciatively as he saw her standing naked drying her hair. ‘You know tans always turn me on.’ He reached out and stroked a finger lightly between her breasts and down her navel to the silky gold pubic hair where droplets of water from her shower still glistened.
‘I want to do a wee-wee, Mammy.’ Mimi marched through the door and giggled, ‘Oooh, Mammy’s in her nudies.’
‘You should be asleep, miss,’ growled Terry. ‘Michael and Shona are.’
‘I’m drawing a very portant picture, Daddy, achurly,’ Mimi informed her father with great dignity as she pulled down her pyjama bottoms and perched on the loo. Maggie hid a grin as she wrapped the towel around her and headed into the bedroom to get dressed. Children were the most effective contraceptives and for reasons she did not care to examine too closely she was glad of her eldest daughter’s interruption of the moment in the bathroom.
‘Be good now and don’t get out of bed. Daddy and I will be just across on Cathy’s veranda so we’ll be able to see through the window,’ Maggie whispered to Mimi a short while later as she sat in her bed, colouring a picture neatly. In the bed across from her, Michael slept soundly, his brown cheek resting on one hand, the thumb of the other stuck securely in his mouth. Maggie’s heart melted with love and she bent down and tenderly pulled his light summer quilt up around him before brushing her lips lightly against his downy cheek.
‘You look beautiful, Mammy. Can I have some of your lipstick?’ Mimi whispered back, puckering her lips. Maggie smiled down at her and pressed her pink-iced lips against her daughter’s.
‘There, you’ve got some now. Be a good girl, won’t you?’
‘I will, Mammy,’ Mimi assured her solemnly as she bent her head industriously over her colouring book.
In the next room, Shona lay on her back with her head turned to one side, her little rosebud mouth curved in a smile. Maggie pulled her quilt up over her although she knew it was a futile exercise. In five minutes she would have kicked it off. Maggie longed to lean into the cot and kiss her baby daughter but she knew it was too risky. If Shona woke up now, she could forget her evening out. Regretfully she closed the bedroom door. Since the hospital episode, Maggie seemed to have a greater need to kiss and cuddle her infant. But that was only natural. What Devlin felt when she held her, Maggie couldn’t begin to imagine. If any of her children had died as Devlin’s baby had, Maggie knew she could never cope with it. Throwing herself into her business had been Devlin’s way, but Maggie knew her friend well enough to be certain that Devlin really hadn’t come to terms with Lynn’s death. She hadn’t given herself time to grieve and it was affecting her, especially in terms of her relationship with Luke. Maggie shook her head ruefully. Luke was nuts about Devlin but Devlin couldn’t cope with it.
‘Are you ready, Maggie?’ Terry said from the kitchen where he was having a beer. ‘I can smell the food from here.’ Maggie came over and stood behind him and inhaled. The delicious scent of outdoor cooking wafted along on the balmy evening breeze and in spite of the fact that she had had her dinner only a few hours before, Maggie’s mouth began to water.
It was a beautiful summer’s evening: the sun, beginning to dip in the western sky, lightly tinged lacy wisps of cloud with pink and crimson softening the sharp outlines of the gently rolling Wicklow hills. The distant fields and forests coloured the countryside like a great patchwork quilt. The sea shimmered beneath the pink and crimson sky, the gentle shushing of the white-tipped waves making a soothing lullaby. Her home county was the most beautiful place on earth and Maggie felt a great sense of renewal as she stood looking at the beauty that surrounded her.
At the mobile opposite she could see a man taking luggage out of the boot of a dark green Mercedes. ‘Nice car. They must be coming on holidays. There’s been nobody in that mobile since I’ve been here,’ she murmured to Terry, who was viewing the proceedings with interest.
‘One of these days that will be me, Mags.’
‘I know it will,’ she smiled.
‘They must be loaded, whoever they are: that mobile is the biggest one on the site. There’s twenty thousand quids’ worth there or more. Imagine paying that for a mobile home!’
‘Imagine the palace they must be living in, then,’ laughed Maggie. ‘Come on before the food’s all gone.’
There were four other couples already on Cathy’s veranda and introductions followed. Cathy’s husband, Dan, was a jovial, gregarious man and Maggie and he hit it off immediately. Terry was soon deep in conversation with the glamorous raven-haired Sylvia, who was wearing psychedelic leggings and a body-suit that left nothing to the imagination.
‘See the femme fatale is turning on the charm for Terry,’ said Cathy with a grin as she turned the sizzling spare ribs and chicken pieces on the grill, ‘but don’t mind her; she’s all talk and no action. She’s harmless. Between herself now and Lady Muck you’d have two great characters for your books,’ Cathy laughed. Maggie had told her about her forthcoming novel.
‘Who’s Lady Muck?’ Maggie asked, intrigued, as she helped Dan to butter some rolls for the hot-dogs.
‘She owns the mobile beside the one you’re in. She must be coming down next week. I see hubby unpacking all the luggage.’
‘Do you not like her?’ Maggie asked curiously.
‘Oh I can’t stand her, with her airs and graces. She really thinks she’s somebody. He’s—’ Cathy jerked a thumb in the direction of the grey-suited man ‘—a stockbroker and they’re absolutely loaded. We’re only in the penny-halfpenny place beside them and Dan’s not doing badly.’ She smiled affectionately at her husband. Dan was in computers.
‘Well, at least you own your own mobile,’ Maggie said cheerfully as she popped a black olive into her mouth. ‘We’re only renting ours.’
‘Oh dear, Lady Muck won’t bid you the time of day. “Renteds” are the lowest of the low in the hierarchy here,’ giggled Cathy, who was getting slightly tipsy.
‘There seems to be a bit of let’s-outdo-the-Joneses here – or is it my imagination?’ observed Maggie, who had passed a few pleasant hours people-watching during the previous week. In fact she had been thinking what a marvellous novel she could write about the various little rivalries that characterized mobile land. Who had the biggest veranda? Who had the most luxurious loungers? Who had satellite TV? Who drove the biggest car? It went on and on! Maggie had been vastly entertained.
Cathy deftly pronged the sausages and laid them on a plate. ‘My dear,’ she said drolly, ‘one doesn’t keep up with the Joneses here; one keeps up with the Montclar
es – your neighbours. Wait until you see herself and Sylvia outdoing each other in gear. They play tennis in their whites. Mind you, Sylvia is no Steffi Graf, poor thing. She’s been lucky not to decapitate herself a few times.’
Maggie guffawed. She did enjoy Cathy’s sense of humour and it was going to be very interesting to observe the interplay between Sylvia and Mrs Montclare.
‘Though,’ added Cathy as she arranged the marinaded ribs artistically on a plate, ‘they’re really only blow-ins, you know, those Montclares. They arrived on site only last year but you’d think they owned the place. Alex, his lordship over there, spent a fortune in Arnotts on garden furniture for his new veranda as we were all informed one evening, and then . . .’ She threw her eyes dramatically up to heaven. ‘You’ll never guess what they did?’
‘What?’ Maggie was still laughing.
‘They got a landscape gardener to “do” the veranda. My dear, where you or I might stick a few night-scented stock and aubrietia in a flower pot, she had to have her huge terracotta pots planted with all kinds of exotica. I ask you! Poor Sylvia was only going bananas. It’s a pity you aren’t here for the summer; you’d get a bestseller out of it.’
‘Yes, it is a pity, isn’t it?’ Maggie dipped a portion of chicken into the barbecue sauce and ate it with relish. ‘I just couldn’t afford it, to be honest. It’s very pricey here but it’s very well run.’
‘Well, keep in touch anyway, won’t you, when you go?’ Cathy urged. ‘I can keep you up to date on the goings-on here.’
‘’Course I will,’ Maggie assured her as Dan called out for everybody to come and help themselves before Maggie had all the barbecue sauce eaten.
‘Ah, Maggie, do I have to?’ Terry moaned.
‘Terry, I’m ovulating; condom or nothing! Sorry.’
‘The sooner you have that tube thing done the better,’ Terry grumbled, as he paused.
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