'Okay,' Josh said reluctantly, scrambled down off her lap and went into the other room to watch television.
Kay carried the tea to the table and sat down. 'Penney's fashion show, eh? I didn't think you'd be bothered modelling for them.' While Kay was only too happy to shop in the store, her daughter wouldn't be seen dead wearing chain-store clothes.
'Don't have a lot of choice these days, Mum,' Marina admitted. 'The offers aren't exactly rolling in.'
Kay frowned. 'But you're only thirty-five.'
'Thirty-four,' Marina corrected. After all, it was still two months to her birthday. 'But I'm surrounded by tall, skinny twenty-year-olds.'
'You're tall and skinny—'
'But not twenty. And I'm too young to model for the middle-aged fashion.' She sighed. 'Lord, I never thought I'd look forward to getting older!'
Though Marina was laughing about her situation, Kay could tell her daughter was worried. 'I wish I could afford to help out,' she fretted.
'Don't be silly, Mum, you're poorer than I am.'
Kay's smile was sad. It was true. Donald had never bothered with life assurance or savings, convinced he had plenty of time to make his fortune. Dropping dead at the tender age of fifty-eight had not figured in his plans. His estate agency had been sold to pay off all his bills and Kay had been lucky in the end to hold on to her house. 'Would you not take Josh out of that nursery, darling? I'm sure a childminder would be much cheaper.' She decided not to mention the music lessons, art lessons and now — God help us — the drama class.
Marina was staring at her as if she'd lost her mind. 'Of course not, Mum! That's the best nursery in Dublin and I wouldn't feel happy putting Joshie anywhere else.'
'But he's only four and think of the money you'd save.'
Marina shook her head. 'No, and anyway, since when was I ever able to save? A chip off the old block, that's me.'
Kay winced. It was true, Marina was exactly like her father, which was why she worried so much. Josh was always dressed in the best of clothes and Marina was forever buying him gifts.
'Don't worry, Mum,' Marina continued. 'I'm going to find myself a rich husband.'
'Oh, well get me one too.' Kay patted her hair. 'There's life in the old dog yet!'
Marina laughed. 'How about a father and son? We could double-date.'
Kay chuckled as she sipped her tea. 'Just ask to see their bankbooks first. Knowing our luck we'd end up paying for dinner!'
An hour later, Kay stood at the hall door and waved goodbye as Marina sped away. When she returned to the kitchen she groaned as she looked around. The place always looked like a bomb had hit it after a visit from Josh. She sighed as she thought of her errant grandson. What he needed was an occasional clip round the ear but, of course, Marina wouldn't hear of it. She didn't even see the need of it — Kay couldn't believe how blind her daughter was to Josh's naughtiness. He could do no wrong in her eyes. A pity Donald wasn't here, Kay thought as she fetched the Hoover. For all his faults, her husband had been good with kids and even though he'd adored his only daughter, he'd never spoilt her. And Kay could have forgiven him if he had. From the moment she'd been born, Marina had been as perfect as an angel with her golden curls, blue eyes and creamy skin. Kay didn't know where those amazing looks had come from. She and Donald had looked at each other in awe, wondering how they'd been blessed with such a beautiful child. As Marina got older, it became clear that she had the confidence to match her looks and a taste for the good things in life that led her into the world of modelling. At twenty she was earning more than her father ever had and her life was full of parties and functions. She holidayed three times a year in the best resorts and was seen on the arm of any number of actors and pop stars. Kay and Donald were proud and slightly amazed that they had produced such a successful daughter.
When Marina introduced her fiancé to her parents she was twenty-seven. Kay had thought it was time that her daughter settled down but had disliked Ray Prendergast from the moment she set eyes on him. But Marina was blinded by his model good looks and fell for all the smooth talking that had made her mother so suspicious. It was a stormy marriage from day one, but when Marina discovered she was pregnant, she was more determined than ever to make the marriage work. Through her pregnancy and the first few months of Josh's life, she tolerated Ray's drinking, womanising and allergy to work. As fast as she made money, he spent it, but after he'd lost another modelling job because of unreliability, Marina gave him his marching orders and instead of wasting time feeling sorry for herself, had thrown herself into rearing her beloved son.
Kay had been proud of her and was riddled with guilt that as he got older, her grandson irritated her beyond belief. She'd looked after him a lot when he was a baby but since he'd learned to walk and talk, Kay found herself making excuses whenever Marina asked for help. Thankfully, her daughter didn't seem to notice. Kay wondered if it was a maternal defence mechanism that made her daughter oblivious of her son's effect on others.
Kay knew she wasn't the only one who found Josh a handful. Celine had an edge in her voice when she was around the little boy and had turned white the day Josh had knocked Dermot's picture off the desk. Kay cringed at the memory. She'd visited Celine's home a number of times over the years but had never been in Dermot's study. The three women had been chatting over a coffee in the kitchen and hadn't noticed Josh slipping from the room. The crash from Dermot's study had Celine on her feet and heading for the door, Marina and Kay on her heels. Kay would never forget the sight of Celine on her hands and knees, picking up the pieces of the glass frame. As usual, Marina was more concerned with Josh, but Kay realised that her grandson had not only broken a treasured possession but had intruded on a shrine. She hustled her daughter and grandson out of the room to let Celine have a moment's privacy.
'That was very naughty, Josh,' she'd said, her voice sharp.
Marina raised an eyebrow. 'It was an accident, Mum.'
'He shouldn't have been in there,' Kay had hissed. 'Didn't you notice that room?'
Marina shrugged. 'It's positively dreary. I keep telling Celine she should dump the furniture and give it a lick of paint.'
Kay blanched. 'Oh, Marina, really!'
Celine arrived back and flashed a tight smile at them. 'No harm done. I can easily get a new frame.'
'There, Mum, stop fussing.'
Kay bit her lip and glared at her grandson.
'It's fine, Kay, really,' Celine assured her.
And that had been that. But Kay noticed that Celine had kept the door firmly shut on all of their visits since and probably locked if she had any sense.
Kay finished hoovering Josh's crumbs and plumped the cushions on her sofa. She pulled back as her hand came in contact with something cold and sticky and groaned as, on closer inspection, it turned out to be jelly — no wonder Josh had finished his dessert so quickly. 'Little terror,' she muttered and went to fetch water and a cloth. Again.
Chapter 4
Celine stood in line at the checkout in the small supermarket. 'Hi.' She smiled at the woman in front who'd turned to stare.
The woman turned away and Celine saw the look that passed between her and the checkout girl.
She kept the smile plastered on her face until she got outside. 'Silly old cows, nothing better to do with their time,' she muttered as she staggered down the road with her bags. She'd avoided the local shop lately but today she'd had to venture out to get detergent, polish and cloths in order to give the house a good clean before she moved out. She managed to cover the short distance home and get inside the safety of her hall door without meeting any other neighbours. She groaned when she saw the distinctive red envelope lying on the mat — not another one. After unpacking, she went out to the hall and picked it up. She considered throwing it in the bin without opening it but she knew that, before the night was out, she'd go rummaging for it. As usual, it contained one white piece of notepaper with one typewritten line. WHY STAY WHERE YOU'RE NOT WANTED? She tossed
it on to the table and slumped into a chair. No matter how much she tried to dismiss these notes that appeared once or twice a week now, they unnerved her. She didn't believe Eileen Gilligan was the culprit. As she had demonstrated that night in the golf club, she was a woman who believed in the direct approach. It could be one of her well-meaning cronies of course — there were plenty of them. Her father would be horrified if he knew about the hate mail but she wouldn't tell him. She'd caused enough trouble already. The phone rang and she decided to let the machine answer. She listened as her voice asked the caller to leave a message after the tone. There was a short pause and then a nervous cough. 'Ms Moore, this is Audrey Thomas from the Willows Golf Club. Just to advise you that the committee have decided that it would be better if you didn't come to the clubhouse for now. If you have any queries or questions, please put them in writing to the captain James Fairchild or myself. Thank you.'
'God almighty, the sooner I get out of this place the better!' Celine laughed but there were tears in her eyes.
She took a can of beer from the fridge and went into what Dermot had laughingly called his study. As she unlocked the door she remembered the day that Josh had broken the picture frame and how she'd cried herself to sleep that night. Thankfully she wasn't quite as emotional these days. Celine sat down in Dermot's battered leather chair — he'd picked it up at a car boot sale — and gazed around the room that she'd never changed. The walls were covered with pictures of colleagues and patients, some of the latter now also dead. Dermot hadn't been able to help everyone but it wasn't for the lack of trying. He had known from an early age that he wanted to help people. His career guidance officer at school suggested social work. Celine had cursed that teacher many times since but she knew that Dermot wouldn't have been happy doing anything else. Not that he was ever really happy — he had cared too much. He had been frustrated by the lack of funds, the helplessness of the police when it came to domestic disputes, the red tape involved in rescuing kids from parents that abused them. Every day was a battle for Dermot. Celine studied the awards on the wall that lauded his dedication and felt tears prick her eyes. Poor Dermot. He was way too young to die. Everyone had told her she should be very proud of him. They said what a special man he'd been, that he was a hero. Celine had thanked them, nodded, smiled, but sometimes, when she felt really low, she thought that her husband had been a selfish bloody fool. He shouldn't have died. He shouldn't have even been there that night. Why did he have to play the hero? Why hadn't he thought of his own safety? Why hadn't he thought of her? Why had he made her a widow at just twenty-one? But it was a long time ago now and she knew she had to move on. Maybe Eileen Gilligan had done her a favour.
She picked up the wedding photo that sat on the desk. Dermot was standing behind her and she was leaning back against him. She was smiling into the camera and he was smiling down at her. It was a happy photo; it had been a happy day. Her dad had forked out a small fortune for the reception and everyone had said what a perfect couple they made. 'Perfect,' she murmured, setting the photo back on the desk. She looked at the books and papers that littered the room and mused that she really should clear it all out. One of Dermot's colleagues had taken away any papers relating to his patients but it had barely put a dent in the data that Dermot had surrounded himself with. There were articles, magazines, notes scribbled to himself — these would be the most difficult to discard. When Celine looked at the familiar large untidy scrawl it made her heart beat faster and for a second it was as if he was still here. She stood up and walked out of the room, closing and locking the door behind her. She would clean it out but not today.
As she stood in the hallway, beer in hand, the doorbell buzzed and, realising that she was visible through the frosted glass, she reluctantly went to answer it. Who would it be, she wondered. A personal visit from the lady captain or more harassment from the local kids? She flung open the door, ready for battle. 'Kevin!'
He smiled. 'Hi, honey, I'm home.'
'Are you mad?' she hissed, dragging him inside and closing the door. 'What if someone sees you?'
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. 'I parked in the next road and walked up the lane. No one saw me.'
Celine groaned as his hands slipped under her shirt and opened her bra with one expert click. 'Marina could have been here, or my dad.'
'No cars outside,' he murmured as he kissed her neck.
'Eileen is probably having you followed,' she protested, but her eyes were closed and she leaned into him, willing him to continue.
'Forget about Eileen.' He moved towards the stairs, dragging her after him. 'We've got some catching up to do.'
And putting Eileen, her dad and Brenda out of her mind, Celine allowed him to lead her upstairs.
Celine stared at the ceiling and listened to Kevin's quiet snores. It was almost midnight and she'd have to waken him soon. She felt more relaxed and at peace than she had in days. Mindless, passionate sex did that for her — at least with Kevin it did. She turned to look at the long dark lashes that farmed his tanned face and marvelled at the slight smile that played around his lips even in sleep. He was an attractive man who always seemed to be in good humour despite his wife's reported nagging. Though nearly thirty-eight, his body was fit and muscular and Celine knew that there were plenty of women who'd happily change places with her. She was ready for someone else to take over as Kevin Gilligan's mistress although she knew she would miss him. She did not love him but when she was in his arms, when he made love to her, she was happy.
Kevin stirred and opened his eyes. 'What are you thinking about?'
Celine raised herself up on her elbow and stared down at him. 'What a nut you are to have come here.'
Kevin leaned over and kissed her breast. 'But a lovable nut.'
'Don't you ever feel guilty?' she marvelled.
'Not any more.'
'What about your wife, your kids?'
Kevin looked away, his face grim. 'My wife is happy once she's got plenty of money to spend and as for my kids, I'm a bloody good father.'
Celine hugged him. 'I know you are.'
He kissed her lips. 'Look, Celine, everything will be fine. We just need to be a bit more careful.'
Celine sat up, shaking her head. 'No, Kevin. Did you know that I've been told to stay away from the golf club and someone is writing me nasty letters?'
Kevin's eyes widened. 'God, what a parochial little place Killmont is.'
'What a small-minded, sexist little place, you mean. They want to rim me out of town and they turn a blind eye to anything you do.'
'Yeah, great, isn't it?'
Celine poked him in the stomach. 'I've decided to leave.'
Kevin raised an eyebrow. 'Leave?'
'I've got a job running a boutique in Hopefield. I'll be living over the shop.'
'That's great, Celine! Now we'll be able to see each other more often.'
Celine looked away. 'I don't think that's such a good idea.'
'Of course it's a good idea. We're good together, Celine, you know we are.' Kevin pulled her on top of him and buried his face in her hair.
'We don't have time for this,' she protested as his body started to move against hers.
'No,' he agreed and kissed her hungrily.
'You should be going.'
'Yeah.' He rolled her over and moved on top of her.
Celine closed her eyes and let her body take over.
Chapter 5
Alan put down his paper with a sigh and looked at his wife. She'd rearranged the flowers in the lounge and the dining room twice already and now she was rubbing at a stain on the carpet that was at least two years old. 'Why don't you call her?' he said gently.
Brenda didn't even look up. 'Never.'
'But, Brenda—'
'Leave it, Alan, please.'
'But I hate to see you so upset.'
'I am not upset, I'm angry and disgusted.' Brenda sat back on her heels and pushed her hair back off her flushed face. 'I never w
ant to talk to the girl again.'
'That's a bit harsh. It's been six years!'
'This is nothing to do with Dermot. My poor brother is not responsible for his wife committing adultery.'
Alan sighed. 'All I'm saying is she must have been lonely.'
Brenda shot him a look of disgust. "Being lonely is no excuse to sleep with a married man. Trust you to take her side.'
Alan threw down his paper and stood up. I'm not taking sides, in fact I'm not going to say another bloody word. I'm going to the golf club.'
Brenda closed her eyes as the front door banged. She really shouldn't be taking it out on Alan but he just didn't understand how betrayed she felt. She went outside and looked impatiently around her tidy kitchen. She needed to keep busy but she'd already cleaned the fridge out, scrubbed the cooker — although as she'd only cleaned it last week there wasn't that much scrubbing to be done — and the floor was polished to the point of being dangerous. 'Scones,' she murmured and went to fetch the ingredients. She turned the oven on to warm, took a large bowl from the cupboard and switched on the radio to Forever FM. They played all Eighties stuff on Saturday mornings which she could at least hum along to. After measuring in the flour and adding the sugar, eggs and milk she started to mix and felt the calm descend on her. Yoga might relax some people but baking did it for Brenda every time. She had some cooking apples so she could make apple crumble too — Alan loved that and it would make up for her snapping at him this morning. And she'd make a ginger cake for Frank. Usually she'd make two — the other one for Celine — but not any more.
She rolled the dough, cut out the scones and slipped the tray into the oven before cleaning her bowl and starting on the cake. Celine would have to buy her own bread and cakes from now on. And she'd have to find someone else to make her curtains or advise her on how to get red wine out of wool trousers. Unexpected tears pricked her eyes and pulling out a handkerchief she blew her nose. She shouldn't waste any tears on the girl. How would poor Frank hold his head up in the golf club after this? Celine couldn't have embarrassed him more if she'd done a striptease on the table.
Red Letter Day Page 3
