Promises, Promises

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘For crying out loud, you’d think it was the Queen of bloody Sheba that was coming to tea,’ Ellen muttered out of the side of her mouth as she savagely cut the crusts off the ham sandwiches and cut them into neat triangles. Miriam giggled. Ellen was not in a good humour. She was nursing a broken heart (her ex had ditched her for an eighteen-year-old nubile). She had a raging hangover acquired in the effort to erase all memories of He-Whose-Name-Would-Never-Pass-Her-Lips-Again. Bed was where she wanted to be. The last thing she wanted was to have to entertain Her Highness Connolly. To add insult to injury, she’d been informed by her mother that her scones did not pass muster.

  ‘Maybe once we get to know her she’ll be quite nice,’ Miriam ventured.

  ‘Are you kidding?’ Ellen snorted. ‘She looks down her cute little button nose at the likes of us and I for one don’t like being patronized. Miriam, the day I like her, snowballs will roast in hell! And if Vincent can’t see what a superficial little snob she is, he’s an idiot. But then what do you expect? He’s so busy social climbing these days.’ She viciously sliced a tomato in quarters. Miriam prudently kept quiet.

  One thing about Ellen, if she took a dislike to you, she took a dislike to you. Fortunately they got on extremely well. Miriam was dying to meet Emma. She couldn’t help feeling a little hurt when she saw all the trouble Sheila was going to for her guest. Tea set out in the parlour. The best china and silverware. Fancy sandwiches and all sorts of cakes and tarts. When Ben had brought her to visit her in-laws for the first time, tea had been served at the big square table in the kitchen. She hadn’t merited the linen tablecloth or posh napkins. It had been ordinary everyday red check gingham for her. And the crusts certainly hadn’t been cut off the sandwiches.

  Miriam felt a surge of resentment. Who was to say Emma Connolly was any better than she was, just because she was a judge’s daughter? Mrs Munroe was always quick to come to Miriam for help when she was entertaining the guild ladies or having the priest say The Stations of the Cross in her house. Would she be as quick to ask Emma to lend a hand when she became her daughter-in-law?

  It was the same old thing she’d been used to at home. Good old obliging Miriam who could always be relied upon. Well a bit of thanks now and again wouldn’t go amiss. She’d never got thanked at home. She was a fool to expect it here, she thought sourly. A cloud of bad humour enveloped her. She wished this damn tea was over so that she could go home to her own house. There at least she was queen. She was loved and cherished by her husband and her little girl, Connie, and Daniel, her baby son. They were the important ones. To hell with the rest of them!

  ‘Cheer up.’ Ellen grinned. ‘Wait until it’s time to entertain the judge and his wife. Then we’ll be in real trouble.’ Miriam had to laugh. Thank God for Ellen. She was a good pal.

  ‘Here, have a sanger,’ Ellen offered. The two of them were munching on the tiny triangles when Sheila arrived looking flustered.

  ‘Now what did I do with my handbag?’ She caught sight of the girls chomping on the sandwiches.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, would you pair leave the food alone or there’ll be nothing left for tea. You’re worse than children,’ she scolded.

  ‘Oh Ma, would you stop getting into a flap. There’s plenty of food, for God’s sake!’ Ellen said irritably.

  ‘Oh heavens! They’re here.’ Sheila heard the crunch of gravel as Vincent’s car drove up. ‘Quick, bring those sandwiches in to the table.’ She whipped her apron off and hurried out to the hall to greet her guests.

  ‘Mick. They’re here! Come out to the door with me,’ she ordered her husband. Ellen raised her eyes to heaven.

  ‘Can I move in and live with you, Miriam, if this is going to happen every time she comes to visit? My nerves will be shot to hell!’ She grabbed the plate of sandwiches and held them aloft. ‘Come on, let’s go charm the pants off dear Ems before Mother has hysterics altogether.’

  ‘Aah, Miriam dear,’ Sheila said sweetly as Miriam preceded Ellen into the parlour. Her mother-in-law was using her posh voice, Miriam noted with amusement.

  ‘Miriam, let me introduce you to Emma Connolly. Emma, this is Miriam, Ben’s wife. Ben will be here shortly with the children.’

  ‘How do you do?’ Miriam murmured politely. She shook hands with the petite dark-haired girl standing in front of her. She saw an extremely pretty girl with wide dark almond eyes under sharply defined eyebrows. Her cheekbones were high, classical. Her mouth a Bardot-like pout. Emma was dressed in the height of fashion, and beside her, Miriam felt gauche and dowdy in her white blouse, pale blue cardigan and full skirt.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ Emma murmured. She gave a limp handshake and Miriam noticed the other girl’s perfectly manicured nails with their coating of smooth pink nail varnish. Some people were just naturally elegant. Emma was one of them.

  ‘Hi Emma,’ Ellen said breezily. ‘Let’s have a look at the sparkler.’ Emma extended her left hand. A diamond solitaire gleamed on her third finger. Ellen whistled. ‘Liz Taylor eat your heart out! Very nice, Emma. Congratulations.’

  ‘Oh. Thank you.’ Emma’s cool tones took on a note of warmth.

  ‘When do you plan to get married?’ Miriam asked as Sheila urged them all to sit down.

  ‘Valentine’s Day, next spring,’ Emma said coyly.

  ‘How romantic!’ Ellen declared. ‘Vincent, I never knew you had it in you.’

  ‘Well now you know.’ Vincent grinned. ‘We didn’t want to get married too soon after Christmas, but we didn’t want to hang around either.’

  ‘That’s the way to do it.’ Mick beamed. He was dying to get his hands on the sausage rolls with the golden flaky pastry, fresh out of the oven, the way he liked them.

  ‘Have you any idea where you’re going to have the wedding breakfast, dear?’ Sheila asked delicately. Miriam knew her mother-in-law was extremely anxious to know where the reception was to be held. It would set the tone of the whole wedding. She’d know then if it was going to be posh, ultra-posh, or the wedding of the season, even.

  Emma turned her limpid gaze on Sheila. ‘Oh Daddy wants to hold it in the Shelbourne,’ she said airily and Miriam knew by her mother-in-law’s reaction that she was somewhat relieved. It would be posh, but not too intimidatingly so. ‘But Mummy and I want to hold it in the International,’ Emma chirruped gaily. ‘It’s modern and sophisticated. Much more me. We’re working on Daddy. I think he’s wavering.’

  ‘I see,’ Sheila said faintly. Miriam could tell she was horrified. The International was very very posh indeed. Sheila would be way out of her depth. As she would be herself, Miriam thought glumly. At least she’d have Ellen to have a bit of a laugh with. If the wedding was in February, she had almost six months to lose a stone. I’ll start tomorrow, Miriam decided. There was no point starting now. Not with all those goodies Sheila had baked. She’d love to be able to wear her hair in that bouffant style, but it was curly so that was out. Maybe she might get it cut very short, or even straightened for the day. But she was definitely going to look elegant. It would probably be her first and last time in the International Hotel. She was going to look her best.

  Sheila was dispensing sherry. Although she was putting on a good front, she was rattled. She was going to have to have a serious talk to Vincent about this wedding nonsense. The International Hotel was much too grand. Even if the judge and his wife were paying for the wedding. She glanced at her husband. He didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned. But that was Mick for you. He took people as he found them and expected the same in return. It wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference to him if the reception was held in the International, the Glenree Arms, or here in the parlour.

  ‘We’re going to start the house next week, we have the plans drawn up and the planning permission’s come through,’ Vincent declared as he took Emma’s hand in his.

  ‘Are you going to build a bungalow?’ Miriam asked.

  ‘Oh no,’ Emma’s tone was dismissive. ‘Bungalows are so boring!�
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  Miriam stiffened in her chair. The cheek of her looking down her pert little stuck-up nose at bungalows. Just because she lived in a mansion in Foxrock.

  ‘It’s kind of split-level. It’s an American design,’ Vincent explained hastily.

  ‘It’s fabulous,’ Emma enthused. ‘It’s semi-open-plan. We’re going to have a lot of wood panelling. Plenty of glass to let in natural light and make the most of the view of the valley. I hate poky little windows.’

  Sheila flushed and Ellen flashed Miriam a glance. The windows in the farmhouse, while not exactly poky, were not very large. Emma’s remark was in rather poor taste. She didn’t notice her faux pas and rattled on artlessly about her ensuite bedrooms and huge dining-room. Vincent looked a little uncomfortable.

  ‘It’s just a good opportunity to do something a little different, seeing as we can start from scratch,’ he said placatingly.

  ‘I see,’ Sheila said stiffly. ‘It all sounds very interesting, I’m sure.’ Fortunately Ben and the children arrived just then. Miriam smiled at her husband. Many would judge Vincent the more handsome of the two brothers but in Miriam’s view Ben’s craggy face had much more character. Her husband had dark chestnut hair, hazel eyes ringed by silky black lashes, a straight nose and a wide well-shaped mouth that smiled easily. He was tall and lean, and his temperament was very calm and easygoing. Vincent was much more go-ahead and ambitious.

  ‘Hi.’ Ben leaned down and kissed Miriam on the cheek and smiled at her. He gave her the tiniest wink and she smiled back, warmed by his empathy. He had already met Emma. Vincent and she had called in to see him in the reservations office in O’Connell Street and they’d all gone to the Gresham for lunch. So he’d seen Emma in action, he knew what to expect.

  Daniel squirmed in his father’s arms. At fifteen months he was a handful. Connie stood shyly behind Ben. The parlour was new territory to her. Miriam drew her towards her and put her arm around her. ‘Did you help Daddy mind Daniel?’

  ‘Yes. An’ Mammy he had a filthy poohy nappy an’ it was all over his bottom. An’ I wiped it for Daddy with the blue sponge,’ she said breathlessly.

  Sheila shot them a daggers look. ‘Such things to be talking about and we ready to sit down to our tea.’

  ‘I’ll mind the kids if you’d like to have tea in peace,’ Ellen offered.

  ‘Not at all, Ellen.’ Miriam knew precisely what her sister-in-law was up to. She needn’t think she was getting off that lightly.

  ‘I need you to make the tea, Ellen,’ Sheila ordered. ‘And Miriam, would you bring in the strawberries and cream from the larder.’

  ‘Would it be very awkward if I asked for coffee instead of tea?’ Emma asked demurely.

  ‘Not at all, dear. Miriam will make it for you.’

  ‘Just black, please, Miriam. Thank you very much.’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Miriam, feeling more like Wee Slavey every minute.

  ‘This is the last time I’m getting involved in this carry-on,’ Ellen grumbled as she boiled the water for the tea. ‘I’m not wasting every Sunday entertaining Vincent and Ems. Who does she think she is? Did you hear her about bungalows and poky windows? Patronizing snob.’ Ellen’s voice rose indignantly. ‘And did you ever see anything like the hair? A swallow’s nest has nothing on it. I had my escape route all planned. I was going to take Daniel and Connie out picking blackberries. You could have encouraged it.’

  Miriam laughed. ‘Yeah, thanks. You didn’t mind a bit, me being stuck with her. I don’t know what to say to the girl. I’ve nothing in common with her.’

  ‘Has anyone? She’s from another planet,’ Ellen said tartly. ‘Ma nearly fainted when she heard about the International. Vincent will get a right earbashing tonight. He needn’t think he’s going to act the lord with his handmaidens waiting on him. He can bloody well do the washing-up,’ Ellen decreed as she heated the teapot. ‘Do you want some water to make Madame’s coffee?’

  ‘What’s keeping you?’ Sheila appeared. ‘Miriam, could you give Daniel a bottle or something, he’s very boisterous? He nearly pulled the tablecloth off the table.’

  ‘I’ll bring him home if you like?’ Miriam said hopefully. Ellen glowered at her.

  ‘I need you here. Put him in his pram and give him a bottle,’ Sheila ordered. ‘But bring in that coffee to Emma first. Hurry along with that tea, Ellen.’ She bustled out of the kitchen.

  ‘Heil Hitler,’ snorted Ellen, goose-stepping around the kitchen with the kettle. Miriam could hear Ben giving out to Daniel in the other room. Her heart sank. It was always the same when you wanted them to be on their best behaviour.

  ‘I better get Daniel out of there. Come on, stop messing around and bring the tea in.’ She brightened. ‘At least I’ve an excuse to go home early with the children. They come in very handy sometimes.’

  ‘Some friend you are,’ Ellen said grumpily.

  ‘You get free flights?’ Emma was saying to Ben as Miriam handed her the cup of coffee. ‘Lucky you.’ She smiled at Miriam. ‘Did you go abroad this year? Is that where you got your tan from?’

  ‘We just went to Paris for a weekend. I got my tan here in Glenree.’ Miriam laughed.

  ‘Oh. Paris must have been nice. I’m trying to persuade Vincent to bring me there.’

  ‘By the time we get the house of your dreams built, plus the horse, plus the stable, we’ll be lucky to afford a weekend in Bray,’ Vincent joked as he tucked into the plate of sandwiches.

  Emma nibbled on one of hers. ‘Don’t be silly, Vincent,’ she rebuked.

  ‘Any jobs going in Aer Lingus, Ben?’ Vincent winked at his brother.

  Emma was not amused. You’d think Vincent hadn’t a penny. Going on about the cost of the house and horse and everything. Implying that all his money was being spent on her. Wait until she got him on his own. She took another sip of coffee. Miriam hadn’t a clue how to make coffee. It was terribly bitter. She seemed a nice enough girl. Much nicer than that dreadful Ellen. The state of her in her slacks and stilettos. She hadn’t bothered to dress up at all. Which was rather rude in Emma’s opinion. At least Miriam seemed to have made an effort, even if the result was somewhat dowdy.

  As for the mother! Emma sighed. Sheila was going to drive her mad. If only she’d stop fussing. Handing her the plate of sandwiches before she’d even finished the one she was eating. Pressing buns and slices of rich fruit cake and tarts on her. She’d never seen anyone eat like Mr Munroe. He’d scoffed three sausage rolls, one after the other. This was definitely the last time she was going through this ordeal, Emma vowed. They’d all seen the ring. She’d met the family. That was more than enough.

  ‘She’s got a very poor appetite,’ Sheila said disapprovingly. She was making another cup of coffee for Emma before she went home.

  ‘Stop worrying, Sheila,’ her husband said.

  ‘Maybe she didn’t like my cooking? She hardly ate a thing,’ Sheila fretted.

  ‘She’s a skinny little thing. Two bites of a sandwich would fill her,’ Mick comforted.

  Sheila was not one bit happy. The tea had not gone well. Ellen had a face on her. The children had misbehaved. Sheila couldn’t even face the thought of the wedding breakfast. Maybe it wouldn’t come to that. Maybe she could persuade Vincent that Emma was not the girl for him. Things were not working out as planned at all. The Connollys were too posh for the likes of them. And that was something that Sheila Munroe had never thought she’d admit to anyone. Well she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she was just thinking it to herself, she thought crossly as she poured water over the coffee and hoped that she hadn’t made it too strong.

  ‘What did you make of Emma then?’ Ben asked as he deftly changed his son’s nappy.

  ‘She’s a bit silly if you ask me. With all those airs and graces. And Mummy this and Daddy that. I thought she’d an awful cheek saying that about the windows and dismissing bungalows as if they were slums,’ Miriam retorted. She’d told Ben what Emma had said.

  She was
glad the tea was over. She had a thumping headache. Daniel had got extremely cantankerous and Connie had knocked her cup of milk all over Sheila’s good tablecloth. Miriam had been on edge until they left.

  ‘She’ll get sense. She’ll suit Vincent though. They’ll be a glamorous couple, climbing to the top. Not like us pair of fuddy-duddies.’

  ‘I like being a fuddy-duddy.’ Miriam leaned over and gave her husband a kiss. ‘I don’t want a split-level house and a horse and stables. I’m perfectly happy here with you in our little bungalow with poky windows.’

  ‘Me too,’ Ben grinned. ‘Did you see the face of Ellen when Vincent offered to wash up and Mam told him it was all right, Ellen would do it. I thought she was going to burst. I went out to give her a hand and by heavens Mam was lucky to get all her crockery washed up in one piece. Ellen was sizzling. I can tell you one thing, I’m glad I’m in my own little peaceful abode tonight.’

  Miriam laughed. She knew Ellen wouldn’t put up with such treatment in silence. There’d be fireworks when she got Sheila on her own tonight. It served her mother-in-law right, Miriam thought unsympathetically. She knew Sheila was in a right state too about the International. Well, they’d all had the judge’s daughter shoved down their necks, ever since Vincent started dating her. Now Mrs Munroe was just going to have to put up with the consequences of getting involved with high society. Emma’s arrival into the Munroe family was going to make for some very interesting times ahead, thought Miriam as she took Daniel from Ben and began to feed him his bottle. Now, Sheila Munroe just might realize how lucky she was with her other daughter-in-law. Even if she was only a farmer’s daughter. Miriam had enjoyed her mother-in-law’s discomfiture today. It helped make up for all the many little barbs that had been cast in her direction over the years. Miriam thought that Emma was just what Sheila deserved.