‘No sage,’ Sinéad promised.
Max straightened and held his arm out to Bridie. ‘We’d better go before Dad and Philip eat everything.’
Bridie stared up at him. ‘Philip? Who’s he?’
‘Sheila’s husband.’
She stood up slowly. ‘Ah, poor Sheila.’
So she remembered what had happened to Sheila. Max looked at Sinéad. She looked as surprised as he was.
‘Is it very cold out?’ the nurse asked. ‘I think your blue coat would be the warmest.’
‘Oh yes, I like the blue one,’ Bridie said, immediately distracted.
The nurse looked at Sinéad. ‘Why don’t you help Bridie get ready? Max, if you come with me I’ll give you your aunt’s medication.’
He turned to her in the corridor. ‘She seems okay apart from thinking Sinéad is our mother, her sister.’
‘It’s quite common for people with advanced dementia to confuse people from their past and present, or they may watch a movie and afterwards think it’s true. They might look in the mirror and think the reflection is a stranger. It’s different for everyone and it can change from day to day. Just go along with it and soothe her if she gets frustrated or angry. Distraction works, too. People with dementia have a short attention span. Whatever you do, don’t correct her, don’t try to explain – oh, and don’t leave her alone for long.’
Max nodded, feeling overwhelmed by the responsibility.
She patted his arm. ‘Don’t worry. Most of the time Bridie is quiet and she loves her food and the TV, but it’s best not to put on anything upsetting.’
‘So, Sound of Music rather than James Bond,’ he said.
She laughed. ‘That’s the idea. And, if she takes a dislike to someone, just keep them out of her sight.’
‘Okay.’ Max took a deep breath and nodded.
‘I’m just preparing you for the worst-case scenarios. Bridie seems in very good form today. I’m sure she will be fine and you will have a nice time.’
Max chatted to his aunt as they went outside and helped her into the back of the car. Sinéad scrambled in the other side and strapped the seatbelt around her before putting on her own.
‘You didn’t put sage in the stuffing, did you, Maggie?’
‘No, Bridie. I made it just the way you like it.’
‘Are we going to Sheila’s?’
Max met Sinéad’s eyes in the mirror and gave her a reassuring smile. ‘We are, Aunty. Would you like me to drive along the coast road?’
‘Oh, yes, Maxie, but I don’t think we should stop today. It’s too cold for a paddle.’
‘It is,’ Sinéad said.
‘My handbag, where’s my handbag?’ Bridie’s voice rose.
‘It’s right here,’ Sinéad assured her.
‘You didn’t put sage in the stuffing, did you? I hate that bloody stuff.’
Sinéad sighed. ‘No sage, I promise.’
Philip was glad he had put Christmas dinner back a couple of hours. Quite apart from cleaning up after the drinks reception this morning and the last of the food preparation to be done, he needed time to gear himself up for the Fields family, and it would mean a shorter time in their company, which could only be a good thing. He would also be able to hide out in the kitchen from time to time. He didn’t have to worry too much about Sinéad seeking him out there: she was no domestic goddess.
He sighed as he thought of Sheila bustling around last year, serving up a magnificent meal despite the fact that she’d spent the morning looking after his guests. And she’d tidied everything up while he’d taken chocolates to some of his older constituents, who were living alone. He’d known it would be hard without her, but he had no idea that he would miss her this much. He had tried to make the house look the way she had last year, but it still wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same without her soothing, calming, smiling presence.
He lifted the turkey out of the oven and left it to rest on the carving dish before taking a gulp of his wine. He should probably drink some water. Getting pissed today of all days really wasn’t an option: God knows what he might say. He took another gulp, anyway, before attending to the gravy, and he had just put the potatoes on to roast when the doorbell rang. He paused in front of the hall mirror, smoothed his hair, took a deep breath and went to open the door. Sinéad stood there looking ill at ease, and he put on his brightest smile and held his arms out. ‘Welcome, Sinéad. Happy Christmas.’
‘Happy Christmas, Philip.’ She glanced over her shoulder at where Max was coaxing Bridie out of the car. ‘You need to know that Bridie’s gone downhill since you saw her last. At the moment she thinks that I’m my mother, is preoccupied with stuffing and thinks everyone is trying to nick her handbag. Apparently, we must just ignore it and try to distract her if she gets anxious.’
‘Got it,’ he said as Max approached, linking arms with a very apprehensive-looking Bridie. It was strange. She hadn’t changed that much physically but the indomitable spirit that the family had once depended on had slipped away gradually. Just over a year it had become clear that she could no longer live alone and the nursing home was the only option. Kieran had the space to take her in but never offered. Only Sheila had been riddled with guilt over it, but she’d have had to give up work and Philip had put his foot down about that. It would have been a ridiculous and illogical sacrifice.
He watched now as Bridie stood looking up at the house with a bewildered expression. He came forward to take her hand and smiled. ‘Hello, Bridie. Happy Christmas.’
‘Daddy!’ Her face lit up and she threw her arms around him.
He held her, patting her back as an incredulous Sinéad rolled her eyes. He looked over Bridie’s head at his brother-in-law. ‘Merry Christmas, Max.’
‘Merry Christmas, Philip. Thank you for having us.’
‘Do you have a Christmas tree?’ Bridie asked.
‘Of course I do.’ Philip led her into the living room and she stood in front of it, her eyes round in wonder, like a child’s.
‘Can we open the presents?’
‘When Kieran gets here.’
Bridie’s smile was replaced by a glare and she looked around at Sinéad. ‘You’ve asked that man here?’
Sinéad shrugged. ‘Just for a little while, Bridie. It is Christmas.’
‘You’re a fool. How many more times are you going to let him break your heart?’
Philip touched her arm. ‘Bridie, I’m not sure the turkey is cooked through. Will you take a look?’
She shook her head and laughed. ‘Are you trying to poison us? Come on, Maggie, let’s check this bird.’
Sinéad obediently followed her out of the room.
‘What has she got against Kieran?’ Philip asked.
‘No idea.’ Max lowered his long frame into an armchair. ‘The nurse said she’s mixing up people from the past and the present. Just nod and smile, Philip.’
‘Poor woman,’ Philip said, although it occurred to him that Bridie’s presence might actually make the day easier. It would be impossible for Sinéad to get into any intense discussions about Sheila with her aunt like this. ‘I’m surprised your dad’s not here yet. Do you think we should call him?’
Max glanced at his watch and frowned. ‘Let’s give it a few more minutes.’
‘Why didn’t he come with you?’
‘He insisted on driving, no idea why.’ Max shrugged.
‘I suppose it’s a good sign. He’s grown very dependent on you and Sinéad.’
‘True.’
‘A drink?’ Philip offered.
‘A tonic with just a hint of gin,’ Max said.
‘You and Krystie seem to be getting on well.’ Philip made the drink and handed it to Max.
‘Yes, we are,’ Max said, his cheeks going red. ‘She’s great.’
‘I haven’t had much of an opportunity to really talk to her, but she seems nice and she and Sinéad seem to get along well.’
‘They do.’
Ph
ilip smiled. ‘I’m happy for Sinéad. Oh, I’d better go and rescue her. God knows what your aunty’s up to.’
When he went into the kitchen, though, Bridie was standing at the hob, stirring the gravy, looking serene. Sinéad stood just close enough to step in if needed. ‘Good job, Bridie. Come back inside. I think you’ve earned a small sherry.’
She looked up at him in disgust. ‘Sherry? When have you ever seen me drink that stuff? Give me a gin and tonic and make it a large one.’
Philip was startled to hear her sound just like her old self and burst out laughing. ‘Yes, ma’am, coming right up. Will I make it two?’ he asked Sinéad.
‘Why not?’ She grinned.
He followed them out into the hall. ‘Did you remember dessert?’
‘Oh, yes, it’s in the car. I’ll go get it.’
The doorbell rang. ‘That will be your dad,’ Philip said and did a double take when Sinéad flung open the door and Kieran stood there with his arm around a woman.
Chapter Twenty-five
‘This is wonderful stuffing, Philip. You must give me the recipe,’ Beth said, smiling.
‘No sage,’ Bridie muttered without looking up.
Sinéad hadn’t said much since they’d sat down. She looked up to find her father watching her. She couldn’t tell if she saw defiance in his eyes or a plea for understanding. She looked back down at her plate. She felt annoyed with him. He had barely opened his mouth to her for months and here he was all dressed up, full of chat and with a bloody girlfriend in tow. The nerve of the man. Max kept shooting her warning looks, and it was only that and the risk of upsetting Bridie that made her keep her mouth shut.
‘Isn’t it better to see him like this than the way he was?’ Max hissed at her as they made their way into the dining room. He was probably right, but she still couldn’t help feeling angry. All the time he’d been playing the grieving father he’d been cosying up to a widow.
He had never brought a woman to meet them before, though she knew there had been a few over the years. She had initially looked at Beth and wondered, had her father lost his mind. The woman had terrible taste, wore far too much makeup and talked a bit too much for her liking. But, as they sat over dinner, Sinéad realised that Beth was a genuine sort with an infectious laugh, and it was impossible not to like her.
Philip was more than happy with the uninvited guest. In seconds he’d set another place at the table and fetched an extra chair before disappearing into the kitchen to get the starters. Beth had quickly tripped after him with offers of help and when she’d returned she’d taken the seat next to Bridie and chatted away to her, taking all of her aunt’s peculiarities in her stride.
Sinéad let the conversation drift around her and sipped her drink. Though Dylan wouldn’t even have been here – they always spent Christmas Day with their respective families – she missed him. He hadn’t responded to her email and after waiting for ages for him to call this morning she had weakened and sent him a text saying ‘Happy Christmas’. After about ten minutes she got an equally terse response. She couldn’t believe it. She had poured her heart out in that letter. How could he be so hard?
The meal turned out to be surprisingly successful and Sinéad had to admit it would have been a very sad and miserable event if it hadn’t been for Beth. She kept the conversation going, pulled crackers, insisted they wear the silly party hats and even told a few dirty jokes. Sinéad was surprised when Bridie had a moment of complete lucidity and told them about a man she’d once worked for who told filthy jokes and felt her up in the lift. Sinéad had never been close to Bridie but the wine was making her feel sentimental, and she tried to coax her aunt to continue, but within seconds the fog returned and Bridie had retreated back into her own little world.
Looking upset, Max excused himself, and Sinéad had to wipe away some tears of her own. Her dad squeezed her hand and Beth and Philip carried on the conversation, giving them time to recover.
‘How did you two meet?’ Sinéad asked her father when they finally got a moment alone. Beth was helping Philip clear up, Bridie was dozing in an armchair and Max had disappeared, she presumed to call Krystie.
‘We just bumped into each other in the pub. Her husband used to work for me,’ he hurried on when she raised her eyebrows. ‘He died a couple of years ago.’
‘Are you serious about her, Dad?’ His face told her he was, but she waited for him to answer, not quite sure how she felt.
He hesitated for a moment and then looked her straight in the eye. ‘Yes.’
‘Why now, after all these years alone?’ Sinéad asked.
He gave a shrug and smiled. ‘Because I hadn’t met Beth I suppose.’
It was almost an hour later before Sinéad had the chance to talk to Beth. Bridie was engrossed in Mary Poppins, her dad had gone outside for a smoke, and Max had gone with him, and Philip was making coffee. He was spending quite a lot of time in the kitchen, she’d noticed, but that suited her just fine.
‘Dad says you’re a widow. I’m sorry. Christmas must be a difficult time for you.’
‘I’m getting used to being alone.’ Beth frowned and shook her head. ‘No, that’s not true. I suppose I’ve just stopped feeling sorry for myself. I have some good friends and I make more of an effort to see them regularly. I work part-time at the local library, too. Keeping busy gives me less time to dwell on the past and I find the house too empty, so I get out as much as possible.’
‘And now you’ve met Dad.’
Beth smiled. ‘Yes. I invited him for a meal for Gerry’s sake, to be honest. He had a lot of time for your father, and Kieran just seemed very low and so thin!’
‘Yes, he has lost weight although . . .’ Sinéad realised that her father had filled out again and was looking much fitter. She looked at Beth. ‘You’ve been feeding him up.’
‘Yes, and it’s been a pleasure. I like my food, as you can see,’ Beth chuckled and patted her tummy. ‘But I hate eating alone and somehow it’s easier to talk over a meal.’
‘I’m glad he’s been talking to someone,’ Sinéad said, hearing the bitterness in her voice.
‘Isn’t it always the way? Talking to a stranger that you can’t hurt is so much easier.’
Sinéad looked at her, wondering if Beth knew that her dad was serious about her. ‘But you’re not strangers any more, are you?’
The woman blushed like a teenager. ‘No, I suppose not.’
‘I’m glad,’ Sinéad said, not altogether sincerely. Her brother’s and father’s love lives made her feel more miserable as she thought of Dylan in Scotland, remote from her in every way.
‘Where’s my handbag?’ Bridie jerked awake and immediately started to scramble around in a panic.
‘Right here,’ Sinéad said, going over to place her aunt’s hand on the bag tucked in beside her.
Bridie smiled and touched her face. ‘You’re a good girl, Sheila. I’m sorry.’
Sinéad knelt at her feet and smiled. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for, Aunty.’
‘I thought it was for the best.’
Sinéad looked up at her, worried at how agitated Bridie was becoming. ‘What do you mean, Aunty? What are you sorry for?’
‘Where’s my handbag?’ Bridie looked cross. ‘I’m not stupid, Missy. You leave my bag alone, do you hear me?’
‘Are you in or out?’ Blake looked at Krystie.
She suppressed a yawn and looked at her hand. Three kings, ha, how appropriate! But she couldn’t concentrate on poker. All she could think about was Max and last night.
‘Krystie?’ Fallon frowned impatiently and took another swig from her can of lager.
‘I’ve nothing.’ Krystie threw down her hand, stood up and went to put on the kettle.
‘Are you feeling okay?’ Her mother looked at her over the rim of her glasses.
‘Fine, Ma, but I think I’ll take my tea up to bed.’
‘You’re not feeling sick, are you, love?’ her mother asked, coming to stand besi
de her.
‘No, honestly, Ma, just tired. I’ve been working pretty long hours.’
‘And you had a late night last night, didn’t you? Go on to bed, then, Krystie.’
Krystie took her mug, kissed her da and, waving to the others, said goodnight.
Her mother walked out into the hall with her. ‘It’s wonderful to have you home, love, and thanks again for my hat.’
‘Are you sure that you like it?’ Krystie asked. ‘I can alter it.’
‘You will do no such thing, it’s perfect as it is. I adore it.’ Her mother smiled. ‘I had no idea you were so talented, Krystie. Your dad and I are very proud of you.’
Krystie gave her a tight hug. ‘Thanks, Ma, that means a lot to me.’
Up in her little bedroom, Krystie pulled the covers up to her chin and looked around at the pale-pink wallpaper with the tiny rosebuds and the white wardrobes and dressing table. Nothing had changed since she had left nearly seven years ago. It was strangely comforting and she snuggled down and thought about Max.
Last night he hadn’t put her into a taxi. When they’d finished dinner he’d looked her straight in the eye and asked her to come home with him and she’d just nodded. In fact she couldn’t remember saying another word until he had gently and very slowly removed all of her clothes. He’d dragged his eyes away from her body, looked into her eyes once more and asked her if she was sure she wanted to go ahead, and she had said yes.
She felt both excited and nervous. Though there had been boyfriends in the past, they hadn’t lasted long, and Jacob was the only man who’d ever made love to her. She felt so close to Max now that she really wanted this to be a special experience. She felt guilty about the way she’d compared him to Jacob at the start. Jacob had always come out on top.
She smiled and stretched. That hadn’t been the case last night. Max had been wonderful and it had been the most incredible night of her life.
She’d woken up early and smiled as she became conscious of the possessive hand on her hip. She turned slightly and examined his features. His fair lashes brushed his cheeks and his strong features were softened in sleep. She looked at his lips and shivered as she remembered how wonderful they had felt against her skin and how special Max had made her feel. She couldn’t help comparing him to her ex. Though Jacob had been incredibly passionate, he’d also been selfish and thought more about his own pleasure than hers. But Max, my God, he had worshipped her body. It had felt as if all he cared about was making her happy – and he had, again and again. As she stared at him in wonderment his eyes flickered open and when he saw her staring at him his mouth had curved into a slow, sexy smile.
First We Take Manhattan Page 22
