by Sharon Owens
‘So you didn’t feel anything for him? No regrets at all?’
‘Honestly, Eddy, there’s nothing to worry about. Look, I only told you I saw him because we said we would have no secrets from each other. I’ve said what I had to say to Johnny and I won’t see him any more. I’m sure he’ll be so happy in America, he might even stay for good. Sure, he might as well be an American, the way he goes on. He’s never fitted in here.’
‘Don’t say anything to Johnny about Declan. Do you hear me?’
‘Are you mad? I’ve said nothing all these years. Not to a living soul. You’re the only person who knows. Don’t you remember the doctor’s face, the day Declan was born? He was very dubious. A nine-pound baby after only seven months? And the woman who filled out the birth certificate? Didn’t I lie to her as well?’
‘Well, I know how emotional you are, Marion. You might feel sorry for Hogan. Going off to America by himself to sit gazing out over some lake, thinking what might have been. He still knows how to manipulate women. It makes me sick!’
‘Oh, Eddy, how possessive you are. You still love me madly, don’t you?’
‘More than you’ll ever know.’ Eddy kissed her, then. A tender and gentle kiss. He said he was sorry for being so insecure; and promised not to mention Johnny Hogan ever again.
She was relieved that he was so understanding about everything. Apart from a little flash of jealousy now and then, Eddy was the perfect man. And she had to remind herself that it was only natural he should resent Johnny so much; he had spent five years waiting for her after she gave him back his engagement ring and went to jive with Johnny in the ballroom. She nestled up to Eddy, under the duvet, and told him she loved him again.
But Eddy was secretly very worried. There was a lump of ice in his heart; the rage that he had buried for so long was still there. He could not make love now, or even get to sleep. He was sure that Marion did love him, but also sure that Johnny was trying to take her away from him. The selfish brute wanted a companion to take care of him in his middle years. Someone familiar to grow old with, and listen to his ballroom stories. Never mind that Marion had a perfectly happy life already. Wasn’t that just typical of Hollywood Hogan? Eddy wanted to go straight round to Magnolia Street and give Johnny Hogan the beating of his life; blacken those brown eyes of his. No decent man would blame him. But, knowing Hogan, he would have Eddy Greenwood thrown in prison for a couple of months, and use the time (and the bruises) to seduce Marion again. She’d promised she would never leave Eddy the first time, and yet she went off with Hogan the minute he asked her. She couldn’t resist him. She wouldn’t even talk to Eddy on the phone in case she hurt Johnny’s feelings, she said. The frustration he felt during those five years almost drove him out of his mind. And he had only got her back because of the pregnancy. Because she was in desperate need of someone to take care of her. Could Eddy’s life still come tumbling down around him like a house of cards? Stay calm, he told himself, a hundred times that night. Eddy knew that he had to be strong and sensible; that was what Marion wanted him to be. Think. Think!
If he couldn’t take Johnny away from Marion, he would take her away from Belfast for two or three weeks, until Hogan had packed his bags and said his last goodbyes. They would go on a winter holiday! And the girls would go, too. Marion wouldn’t leave home for long without them. Declan could stay behind and run the business on his own. Three weeks at the helm should put the notion of being a businessman out of his head. Hopefully, he would be so exhausted by the time Eddy returned from holiday, that he would go running back to Queen’s University for a rest. Marion would be delighted. Eddy closed his eyes then and dreamt of a luxury cruise that he would take his wife on, as soon as he could book it. He would show her that he could order cocktails, and kiss her under the stars, and find his way around new cities. And be a great father to the girls, too. He wouldn’t fuss over them all the time, he’d let them go shopping on their own. He’d buy some really trendy clothes, and dance with Marion on the ship every night, even though he wasn’t a fantastic mover. He’d show her that Johnny Hogan wasn’t the only one who could do glamorous things.
Marion, too, lay awake for a long time. Yes, Johnny had offered to take her away with him. He’d told her he had very strong feelings for her, still. But, it was a declaration of love that was twenty years too late. And if he honestly thought she would leave her four children behind in Belfast, and spend the rest of her life sitting on a deckchair in Florida, then he really didn’t know her at all. She was glad she had given him no encouragement as they sat in the cafe that day. Sometimes, she wondered what her life would have been like if she had stayed with Johnny. But he was so out of touch with the real world, he had no sense of responsibility at all. It would have been a disaster. Eddy was the one she wanted, thank God. She wouldn’t traipse off, after Johnny, to Florida, or anywhere else. She wondered if she should have told him the truth about Declan. Their son was a grown man now, there could be no ugly custody battle. And Declan? Did he have a right to know, too? It was impossible to know. Maybe Declan would not forgive her for keeping the truth from him, and go off with Johnny to America? She didn’t want Declan to be distracted in any way until he got over this silly idea of his that a degree in medicine was beyond him. A shock like this would give her son the perfect excuse to go off the rails for a few years.
She was still awake when the moon faded away and the sun came up. She slipped out of bed, put on a warm robe, and made up a tray of breakfast for herself and Eddy. Toasted slices of soda bread, real butter in a glass dish, fresh orange juice, and two large cups of coffee with demerara sugar sachets in a pretty china bowl. And a pink rose in a tall vase, to show Eddy that he was the special man in her life, and that she was not thinking of past passions. Just the consequences of past passions.
14. Be Careful What You Wish For
As the weeks went by, Shirley soon realized that work was incredibly dull without Kate, who always cheered everyone up with her practical jokes. She was forever hiding plastic spiders in the filing cabinets, or shouting in to some new girl that there was a fire, just when she had sat down on the toilet. And when they held the office party each Christmas, Kate was always the first one out of her seat to dance, a party hat on her head and a string of old threadbare tinsel around her neck.
Back at home, Kate was not joking and laughing. In fact, she was crying at the thought of having to go into the unemployment office at two o’clock. As a claimant. It was going to be very hard for her to stand on the other side of the counter, now that she was a dreaded dole-ite herself. She should have gone in sooner but she was too embarrassed to face all her old colleagues. Mr and Mrs Winters had actually taken the news of Kate’s dismissal very well. Her mother said it was a poor enough job anyway, and Kate should have done far better with the string of exams she had. And her father said that she was only a young girl with her whole life still ahead of her, and wouldn’t she be wise to settle down and start a family? (They were the only over-fifties on the street with no grandchildren, a source of great shame for them.) But unfortunately, their well-intended remarks had backfired in a big way. And Kate ended up crying into her cornflakes. It was Kate’s thirtieth birthday at the end of October, and she was getting a bit sensitive about her age. Young, free and single? More like thirty years old, on the shelf and unemployed.
‘Oh, thanks, Mum and Dad! It’s great to know that you both think I have wasted ten whole years of my life in the DHSS. I’m sure I’ll have no trouble getting in somewhere new as an apprentice, at my age! Roll up! Roll up! Ladies and gentlemen, step right up and take a swipe at the middle-aged loser in the blue corner! Talk about kicking a person when they’re down. I’d expect this kind of treachery off some people, but when it’s your own parents, it really hurts! A useless job, they say! Wallop! And that was only the first punch! Now, it’s grandchildren they want! Crash, bang, wallop! Is that the next of it? When you know rightly I haven’t even got a boyfriend! God help me! What am
I going to do? Is nothing good enough for the two of you? Will I run for election? For Prime Minister? With a pile of adopted weans strapped to my back? I’ll get the campaign up and running as soon as I return from building a few orphanages in the Third World. Jesus Christ, look down on me!’
At that point, Mr Winters hurried out to the shed, to check that all his beloved Christmas decorations were in good working order. It was only October, but still. Mrs Winters scuttled to the upstairs landing to fold laundry at great speed. That was how they’d always handled Kate’s teenage mood swings, and it was still the best idea they could come up with for avoiding confrontation. Kate never lost a fight. Ever. Therefore, there was no point in going through the motions with her. Last Christmas, she’d fought with Shirley for two hours over the last caramel sweet in the tin before Shirley conceded defeat and handed it over.
Shirley had left her big sister to wallow in her misery. She went to stand in line for the bus. It was incredibly boring, sitting in rush-hour traffic without Kate’s constant chatter. She hoped that Kate would soon tire of the self-pity and get another job before the bills started arriving on the doormat. Shirley did say she would help out a little, but she didn’t want Kate to get too comfortable with that arrangement. When she was hanging her coat on the back of her chair, Shirley was started by a small commotion at the other end of the room.
‘Shirley. Shirley! Personal call for you, over here.’ One of the girls was waving from across the huge open-plan office. ‘Hey, it’s a fella!’
‘Oh, fancy!’ chorused the other women, thrilled with this small distraction from the daily tedium of crisis-loan application forms.
‘Keep your voice down, will you?’ said Shirley, rushing over to the phone. Miss Bingham was watching. ‘This must be some mistake,’ she said loudly. ‘I never receive personal calls. Never.’
‘Hello? Is that Shirley Winters?’
His voice was as deep as an underground gravel pit. Shirley felt her face begin to flush. A hot pink flush that would give her away in front of her supervisor. She muffled a squeak of excitement, and immediately despised herself for being such a fluffy-headed female. She took a deep breath and composed herself.
‘It is.’
‘This is Declan Greenwood here. Can I speak to you for a moment?’
Shirley was strangely calm. She saw Miss Bingham coming her way, and tried to sound normal.
‘Have you made a claim with this office before?’ she asked.
‘What? I’m not claiming anything.’
‘My boss is watching me,’ she whispered.
‘Oh. Well, I’ll be quick, then. Will you come out with me, sometime?’
‘Just let me check those details…’
‘I didn’t know how else to contact you. You haven’t been at Hogan’s recently.’
‘That is correct.’ Well, she would have been first in the door of the ballroom at 9 p.m. if she thought Declan would be there, but Kate wanted to avoid Alex Stone and his bruised pelvis.
‘Can I call for you, take you out for a meal? Where do you live?’
‘I cannot give out that information on the telephone.’
‘What? Oh, yeah, your boss. Can I meet you outside your office, then? At five-thirty? Today? Tomorrow? Whenever you like.’
‘I think that will be satisfactory.’
‘Oh, great. Today? I’ll see you at five-thirty. Bye.’
‘Yes. Bye.’
Shirley stole a glance at Miss Bingham, who was hanging off the edge of a nearby desk, trying to listen in to her conversation. Shirley quickly turned and hurried away to the staff loo, to check her face for imperfections. She’d no make-up on, and none with her either. She would have to nip out at lunchtime, and buy another eyeliner in the chemist. She thought she had an old red lipstick in her desk, so that was okay. And why, oh why, hadn’t she washed her hair that morning? And why hadn’t she agreed to meet him the following day, so that she could come into work painted up like a circus trapeze artist? Honestly, she was such an idiot. Then, she began to feel a lovely warm glow inside her. She couldn’t wait to see him again. She felt serene and in control. It was going to be so hard to concentrate on work for the rest of the day.
The letters seemed even more boring than usual, compared to the lovely floaty feeling she had about seeing Declan. Still, she’d better look sharp. There was always more work to do at this time of year when the cold weather drove big families to spend lots of time together in very small houses. As well as Santa Claus and mince pies, the festive season brought with it family feuds, love affairs, money worries, drink problems, and mid-life crises of all descriptions. And there was a general meeting this afternoon, to discuss possible strike action, as some of the administrative assistants were fed up with their workload. An ambulance would have to be called if the strike went ahead: Miss Bingham was a bit of a right-winger, and her heart wasn’t as strong as it used to be. The morning dragged by, but after lunch a curious thing happened. The clock seemed to speed up. Every time Shirley looked up from her desk, huge lumps of time had gone by. She wished Kate was there to give her some useful advice.
At 2 p.m., she wanted to go down to the front desk and give Kate moral support while she registered herself as unemployed, but Miss Bingham sent her to photocopy five hundred forms instead.
Shirley was so preoccupied with her thoughts, that afternoon, that when she was asked for her opinion on the impending strike, she said, ‘I’m never again going to leave the house without full make-up on,’ and everybody laughed until their sides ached. Miss Bingham pursed her lips so tightly, they disappeared completely. The sheer incompetence of the Winters sisters backed up her theory that being useless was a genetic flaw that affected whole families.
In no time at all, it was five-thirty, and Shirley was skipping down the steps to the main entrance, hoping Declan wouldn’t be there, and hoping even harder that he was. He was. He had changed his hairstyle, swapping his blond quiff for a black one. He was even more gorgeous than before. It was all she could do not to grapple him to the ground and rip off his black shirt. She laughed out loud. This was exhilarating stuff. Then she knew she’d have to say something to the poor boy. He seemed confused by her crazy laughter.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘You’ve changed your hair. It’s black.’
‘Ho! You don’t miss much.’
‘That’ll be my job training.’
‘Hope I didn’t get you into trouble?’
‘What?’ Images of Declan unbuttoning her dress came into her mind. If any man could get her into trouble, it was Declan Greenwood.
‘Calling you at work? I thought that would be okay in this day and age.’
‘Oh! Well, most of the other supervisors, wouldn’t mind, but Miss Bingham is a bit old-fashioned. She still thinks married women shouldn’t be allowed to work in the civil service.’
‘Well, I’m sorry about that. I mean, phoning.’
‘That’s okay. It was very nice of you. A nice surprise.’
They both smiled.
‘Where would you like to go?’
‘Anywhere.’
‘Anywhere? You’re easy to please! This is going to be easy.’
‘What is?’
‘You’re a wild one for questions.’
‘Sorry. Job training, again. You’d better decide, or I’ll start quizzing you about how much money you have, and how many hours a week you have to work to get it.’
‘I tell you what: we’ll go for a stroll to that little French place on Shaftesbury Square, for a meal. And then, if you decide you still like me, we’ll go for a drink. Okay?’
‘Keep talking, cowboy. I like the sound of that. I’ll just give Mum a ring and tell her not to keep me any dinner.’
And off they went, into the rush-hour crowd, chatting away as if they had known each other all their lives. And with Shirley wondering why she had called him a cowboy, to his face, after he had graciously invited her out for a posh French meal.
15. Th
e Sibling Rivalry World Championships
When Shirley got home from her first date with Declan, it was after one o’clock in the morning. Her parents had gone to bed but Kate was still up. Surrounded by empty cups and Toffee Crisp wrappers, she lay on the sofa, flicking through some out-of-date magazines in a half-hearted sort of way.
‘What are you doing up?’ asked Shirley, as she passed by the sitting room on her way to the kitchen for a glass of water. Kate leapt up and followed her.
‘What happened? Mum told me you were on a date. With Declan! You’ve been with him eight hours. I want all the gossip.’ Kate filled the kettle and switched it on. ‘Toast? Well, come on, tell me! I’m dying to know!’ She slammed two slices of bread under the grill.
‘Kate, I’m going to bed. I’m just worn out.’
‘You’re going nowhere until you tell me all about it. Sit down at the table.’
‘Kate, I have to go to work in the morning. Remember work? That nasty place where I earn a living?’ Shirley drained her glass and turned towards the kitchen door. They shouldn’t have stayed out so late on a weeknight, but there was so much to talk about, they didn’t notice the time passing.
‘Shirley! I said: sit down! I’m making some tea. Now, where did you go?’ Kate pleaded. She looked very vulnerable and alone, in her old tracksuit and novelty furry-puppy slippers. Shirley took pity on her. She sat down and folded her arms.
‘To the French restaurant beside Lavery’s bar. That little place with the green arched window?’
‘Oh, la, la! Money, money, money! It’s dear, in there.’
‘We had a lovely meal.’
