‘You’re a great mate, Delaney. Lead on to the kitchen,’ laughed Maggie, her bad humour evaporating at the picture of her silly sister-in-law that Devlin had painted.
They were sitting laughing and chatting, on their second Irish coffee, when Terry opened the door and three little bodies hurled themselves on Devlin.
Mimi hugged Devlin tightly. ‘Auntie Devlin! Auntie Devlin! Are you staying on your holidays tonight?’
‘I certainly am,’ laughed Devlin.
‘Did you bring us presents?’ Michael asked shyly.
‘Michael!’ exclaimed his mother.
‘I certainly did, Michael! Let’s go get them.’
‘I lobe you, Manty Devlin,’ Shona declared.
‘I love you too, pet.’
‘I love you too, Devlin,’ grinned Terry. ‘Did I get a present?’
‘Wait and see.’ Devlin turned to Maggie. ‘Hey, Mags, how about if I wash this gang and get them ready for bed, Terry can start the dinner: he’s a dream cook—’ she fluttered her eyelashes at her friend’s husband ‘—and you go and write a few pages. I’d say you’ve enough for a chapter at least.’
Maggie snorted. ‘You’re a bad egg, Devlin Delaney.’
‘Maybe I am,’ chuckled Devlin, ‘but I bet there isn’t one person who reads your book who won’t say, “Oh, I know someone exactly like Susy MacNamara.” ’
‘Well, you’re probably right,’ laughed Maggie. ‘Why don’t I go and put it to the test?’
‘Every cloud has a silver lining,’ declared Devlin, as she was dragged out to the hall to get the presents.
‘Maybe you’re right,’ murmured Maggie an hour later, as a totally new character appeared in her second novel. It’s amazing, she thought, but bitches are so much easier to write about. Look at Ria Kirby. But this one’s even better than her. Marcy’s going to love this!
Maggie’s fingers flew over the keyboard. Now she was actually looking forward to meeting Marcy early in the new year with her next instalment. Before Devlin’s visit, she had been dreading it. She hadn’t written anything since her last meeting with her editor just before Christmas. Now there was no stopping her. She smiled to herself as she wrote, ‘Cissie Lyons wore her hair in a style that made her look like a little old granny . . .’
‘You should have seen the face of her when I said, “When’s the famous novel coming out – or is it all an April fool?” ’ Susy MacNamara smirked at her friend Harriet, from behind the bar at which Harriet was sitting on a high stool. ‘Imelda!’ She waved an imperious hand at the young girl who was standing at the other end of the bar. ‘Serve this gentleman, please.’
‘Why don’t you serve him your bloody self instead of standing there gabbing with Harriet Anderson – who’s only sitting listening to you in the hope of getting a brandy,’ Imelda muttered to Neil, the barman. Nevertheless she did as she was bid. She needed this job, even if it was a torment working for Mrs high-and-mighty Susy MacNamara. Soon, she promised herself, her day would come and she’d be able to tell Susy to get lost.
‘What did Maggie say?’ Harriet leaned forward with feigned eagerness. She’d been there twenty minutes already and there wasn’t a sign of a drink being offered. All Susy had done was rabbit on about her horrible in-laws. She didn’t know how lucky she was to have in-laws, even if they were horrible – and Harriet knew that the MacNamaras were pretty OK, no matter what Susy said. The trouble with Susy was that she had such an inferiority complex that she was always dwelling on imagined slights. When she worked in the County Council, no-one had got on with her there. One minute she’d be talking to you, all smiles and charm; the next she’d ignore you or barely say hello. Her moods had been extremely unsettling and made for a very unpleasant atmosphere in the office at times. It was a great relief to all her colleagues when she resigned from her job after her father bought the pub. Mark Bennett had actually sung the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ when she signed off for the last time and the next day they’d bought a cake to celebrate. Harriet kept in contact only because it meant that she didn’t feel such a spare thumb going to the pub on her own. At least she could talk to Susy when she was behind the bar. And get a free drink – if the younger woman was in a magnanimous humour. Harriet cast an envious glance at the solitaire engagement-ring and extra-wide gold wedding-ring on Susy’s pudgy third finger. How she had managed to ensnare Patrick MacNamara, who was several years younger than her, and a gentleman to boot, mystified Harriet!
She herself, just turned forty, had more or less given up hope of ever entering the married state, after a hard-fought battle that saw her going out every weekend for the previous twenty-five years in search of a man. Oh, she still got dressed up and went out whenever she could. Still gave her stock response of being a ‘career woman’ to the inevitable questions about when she was going to ‘give people a day out’. Harriet hated the term ‘career woman’, hated knowing that she was going to be stuck in the County Council until it was time to collect her pension. Deep down, Harriet felt an utter failure because no man had ever asked her to marry him, and it looked now as if no man ever would. That was why it was so irritating to hear Susy MacNamara narking on about her in-laws. How would she like it if she were stuck on the other side of the counter in Harriet’s position?
Harriet came to in time to hear Susy declare, ‘I just can’t stand these ones coming down from their big fancy houses in Dublin, swanning around, doing the lady. I suppose when the great novel is published she’ll be arriving in a chauffeur-driven Mercedes. Herself and that Delaney one.’
‘Who?’ asked Harriet glumly. So far there was no sign of a freebie. She’d give it five more minutes, buy herself a gin and tonic and go home to watch TV.
‘You know, her friend who owns City Girl, the ultra-posh women’s leisure complex up in Dublin.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Harriet sighed. Frankly, she couldn’t care less if Susy was talking about the first woman Pope.
‘She’s a friend of Maggie, you know.’ Susy popped a handful of peanuts into her mouth and pushed the dish towards Harriet. ‘Have some.’
‘Thanks very much.’ Harriet’s tone was Sahara-dry but Susy didn’t even notice.
‘I’ve met her a few times. Another consequence who thinks she’s it! I remember once after we’d got engaged, she was staying at the farm for a few days and she was going around as if she owned the place. Making herself at home, offering me tea! I mean, after all, I was the one who was coming into the family. I should have been making tea in the MacNamaras’ kitchen, not some blow-in from Dublin. I’m telling you, when you get married you’re stuck with your husband’s family and friends as well. Stay single as long as you can.’ Susy loved saying that, from behind the security of her wedding-ring of course. She knew very well that, barring a miracle, Harriet was unlikely to get married now; she was too long in the tooth.
Bugger you, you superior cow! Harriet thought furiously. She smiled at Susy. ‘Well, it is nice being footloose and fancy-free, having my evenings to myself to do as I please. I’d hate to have to work at night like you do. I suppose you might as well not be married at all really,’ she added sweetly, ‘if Pat’s working all day and you’re working all night.’ Ha, she thought as she saw the expression on Susy’s face, good enough for you.
She slid off the bar stool. She was damned if she was going to add to Susy’s profits tonight. ‘I think I’ll go and get a Chinese meal and sit in by the fire. There’s a great film on tonight. Ta ra, Susy.’ Harriet waved and departed briskly.
It’s well for you, thought Susy dourly. Wouldn’t she like to be sitting in front of the fire eating a Chinese takeaway. If only Patrick would take over the running of the pub lounge and restaurant. After all he was a Swiss-trained chef. He’d be in charge just as much as he was in the kitchens of the hotel in Wicklow where he worked.
They had been fighting about it all over Christmas but he was adamant that he wasn’t giving up his job. Well, she was still not speaking to him, and wouldn’t unti
l he came round to her way of thinking. She’d made that quite clear to him. And if he thought she was going to put up a façade for his family, she had certainly dispelled the notion at his gran’s tea-party. She had told him exactly what she thought of him, until that Maggie bitch had the gall to interfere. Who the hell did she think she was, anyway? Just because she was having a novel published she thought she was the bee’s knees. Well, Susy wasn’t impressed by her and she’d let his family see that she wasn’t too impressed by Patrick either. In fact she couldn’t stand the whole bloody lot of them. Susy was delighted to hear of Maggie’s publishing setback. It would give her great pleasure if the book was an unmitigating flop. And what was more, when Maggie invited them to her annual New Year’s Day family dinner, she was just not going to go.
Thirty-Eight
‘Won’t you stay the night now and not go rushing back to Wicklow? It will make the day less tiring for Gran as well.’ Maggie was talking to her mother on the telephone, making arrangements for her New Year’s Day dinner.
‘Oh well, all right,’ Nelsie agreed, and Maggie knew she was smiling at the other end of the phone. ‘What time do you want us to come?’
‘Look, leave early in the morning when there won’t be much traffic, and it will give you time to relax when you get here. Then you can stay the night so Dad can have a few drinks with Terry and Anthony, and Terry’s brother-in-law.’
‘Are Anthony and Lillian bringing the children?’ Nelsie asked eagerly. She loved her grandchildren.
‘Yes, they are,’ Maggie assured her. ‘My gang are in a tizzy of excitement at seeing their cousins.’
‘Ah, it will be a nice day; I’m looking forward to it,’ Nelsie declared. ‘I hope Susy will be in better form than she was at your gran’s.’
There was silence at the other end of the phone and then Nelsie heard her daughter say calmly, ‘I don’t care if she’s in good form or not, she’s not coming to my house with her bad manners, Ma. If she and Patrick can’t behave properly in company, that’s their problem. I’m going to a lot of trouble so that you and Dad and Anthony and Lillian and the rest of you will enjoy yourselves. I do not intend for Miss Susy to create an atmosphere in my house now or ever . . . so, Mother, I didn’t invite them.’
‘Oh Maggie, they’re family,’ Nelsie demurred.
‘Precisely, Ma! And when they behave like family, they’ll be treated like family,’ Maggie said firmly.
‘You know, Maggie, you’re right,’ Nelsie said quite cheerfully after a minute. ‘Patrick has made his bed and he must lie in it. And if he wants to change it, it’s up to him. Why should we all have to suffer? Now, do you need mince-pies or will I bake a few scones or sausage rolls?’
‘Oh, a few sausage rolls would be lovely, Ma. But don’t go to any trouble, now.’
‘I won’t, dear. See you on New Year’s Day.’
‘See you, Ma, God bless,’ Maggie said fondly, and hung up.
She was very relieved at her mother’s attitude. Obviously Nelsie had had enough too. Terry had backed her all the way when she decided not to invite her brother and his wife.
‘Thanks be to God,’ he laughed. ‘I couldn’t sit looking at her sour puss for another evening.’
So it wasn’t only herself, Maggie reflected, as she hoovered the guest-room. And even if it was, she decided, she still wouldn’t invite Susy. She was too old to put up with the crap her sister-in-law dished out. Lick your arse one minute, cut the nose off you the next, and treating poor Gran like dirt. It just wasn’t on. Let Patrick put up with it if he wanted. In fact it wouldn’t bother her if she never saw Susy again. The thought cheered Maggie up and she hoovered with vim and vigour, looking forward to having the two families to dinner. Terry’s sister and her husband and children were nice people and Terry, to give him his due, was a very good host. At the moment, Maggie and he were not arguing as much as before. She wondered if the postponement of the publication of her book had made her new career seem less threatening to him.
She was already well into her second novel, but with Christmas and everything she hadn’t had any time to write, except for the couple of hours she had spent at the typewriter the night Devlin was there. Actually, that couple of hours had really got her going, and once Christmas was over, she was dying to get stuck in again. Maybe the reason Terry was in better humour was because she hadn’t been writing. Maggie sprayed Sparkle on to the Sliderobe mirror and buffed it off. If her husband thought she was going to ease off her writing because she’d had a setback, he was mightily mistaken. He could just get used to the idea that she had a career too and that she intended making a success of it.
Maggie was making one big new year’s resolution, she decided. She wasn’t going to take any more crap from anyone. Not from Terry, not from her publishers and certainly, most certainly, not from moody Susy. On the phone beside the bed, she dialled Adam’s number, after making sure that nobody was within earshot. Terry was going to take the kids to Funderland for the afternoon. She had a few hours free; she hoped her lover would be free as well. He’d be interested to hear about her new year’s resolution. Adam was always telling her she was too soft. From now on, for a change, she was going to put her own feelings first. Having a dinner party without madame was the first step. Her phone call to Adam was the next.
‘Come on, gang, into the car, or it will be dark before we get to Funderland,’ Terry urged as Mimi, Michael and Shona scurried around putting on hats, coats and gloves.
‘Sure you don’t want to come?’ he asked Maggie. ‘Remember the first year we were going together, we went to Funderland and had a ball?’
‘Yeah, I remember,’ Maggie said, and her eyes were sad.
‘Come on, the house looks fine. Leave it and we’ll go to McDonald’s!’ Terry suggested enthusiastically.
‘No, you go on. I’ve a few bits and pieces to get in Superquinn still, and I might call on Marian. I promised I’d call to see her over Christmas.’ Maggie would never call on Marian without an invitation, but it seemed like a good excuse.
‘Sure, aren’t we going to dinner to her house the Sunday after New Year’s Day?’ Terry reminded his wife.
Maggie was a little flustered. ‘Oh yes, I forgot. Look, Terry, you go. I’ve a million and one things to do, anyway,’ Maggie said, as she buttoned Shona’s coat and put on her gloves and scarf. She stood waving after her family, a big smile on her face, and Terry smiled himself at the sight of their three children waving excitedly from the back seat.
Apart from being annoyed with Susy and Patrick, Maggie was in remarkably good form these days. It was great, because when Enterprise had told her they were going to postpone publishing her book, she’d been like a bear with a sore head. At least she hadn’t her head stuck to the typewriter this past couple of weeks. Except for that afternoon when Devlin had insisted she go and write.
He couldn’t help it, but it really bugged him when he came in from work and she was out in the kitchen tap-tap-tapping away. That was all she ever did, tap-bloody-tap-tap-tap. She hardly ever came out to dinner with his clients, whereas she used always to accompany him or else entertain them at home. Oh, she still gave the odd dinner party, but nothing like before. Now that she’d got out of the habit of writing, she mightn’t bother as much in the new year, and they could get back to normal. The thought cheered Terry up immensely. He was pleased with the way she was rushing around making sure everything was right for the gathering on New Year’s Day. He was looking forward to it himself. He liked having the two families together; it was great for the kids to play with their cousins, and now that Maggie had decided not to invite Susy and Patrick, there’d be no strained atmosphere. He wouldn’t have to be spitting out every word and polishing it before he spoke to Susy in case she took offence. Everyone could relax and the crack would be great.
Susy was in the horns of a dilemma. She wasn’t talking to her husband, she couldn’t find out whether Maggie had invited them to dinner for New Year’s Day or not, so
she could say she wasn’t going. Every time the phone rang she rushed to answer it, so she could have the pleasure of refusing Maggie’s invitation personally.
By New Year’s Eve, she was like a demon. Patrick was at work, the lounge was crawling with customers and Imelda had phoned in sick. She was exhausted when she got home and irritated to find Patrick already in bed and snoring. She slept in the spare room, as she had done for the previous week. Not that she slept much, she was far too annoyed. If the Ryans thought that they could invite her and Patrick to a meal at the last minute they had another think coming. And she’d make sure Maggie knew it when she phoned in the morning to invite them to dinner.
She was thoroughly miffed when Patrick poked his head through the door at nine-thirty to say that he was on his way to work. He had decided to work overtime.
‘Oh, so you’d prefer to work overtime than spend New Year’s Day with your wife,’ she shrieked at him.
‘Correct,’ snapped Patrick, and marched out the door.
‘And what about if your dear sister invites us to dinner?’
‘You go. I know how much you love being with my family,’ he called back and she heard the door slam.
Almost speechless with rage, Susy lay back against the pillows. She was starving. Usually Patrick brought her up her breakfast in bed. Now she was going to have to get it herself.
She waited all morning for the phone to ring, then after lunch, a thought struck her that made her eyes open wide. She dialled her mother-in-law’s number. The phone rang and rang. Lips tightening into a thin line, she dialled Anthony and Lillian’s. The same.
Taking a deep breath, Susy dialled Maggie’s number.
‘Hello.’ Terry’s deep voice answered. In the background Susy could hear sounds of gaiety, laughter, and children shrieking.
‘Hello,’ Terry repeated. ‘Anthony, could you close the sitting-room door. I can’t hear a word. Oh thanks, Nelsie,’ Susy heard her brother-in-law say.
City Woman Page 34
