Chapter Seven
‘What a wonderful way to remember my birthday. I think Rebecca is a lovely name for the baby.’ Sheila was as proud as Punch as she sat down opposite Mick. She sipped from a glass of sherry, a treat to celebrate her birthday and the birth of her new granddaughter. She beamed at Ellen, and waited for a response. Ellen was sitting in the old rocking chair beside the wireless. She was listening to a concert. She looked pale and strained. Come to think of it, she hadn’t been in good form for ages and she’d stopped talking about this Chris fella she’d been seeing. Sheila suspected that he’d dropped Ellen. She was always waiting for the phone to ring. Always the first to answer it when it did. That was a sure sign. Not that she was sorry. Ellen could do much better for herself. That Chris had notions about himself. On the few occasions he’d called for Ellen she’d felt as if he was looking down his nose at her and Mick. Not that he’d collected Ellen that often, Sheila sniffed. Most of the time Ellen had to make her own way into Dublin. He wasn’t half as attentive as he should be. Not compared to the way Vincent and Ben had treated their girlfriends. No doubt Ellen would be upset, if it was all off. But she’d find someone else. Although she was getting a bit long in the tooth, as Bonnie Daly had so ungraciously put it. What was it about Ellen that she couldn’t keep a man? It was most annoying. Sheila hadn’t planned for her daughter to end up a spinster. That’s what she would end up as, if she didn’t straighten herself out and find a nice lad to marry her.
Sheila frowned over at her daughter. She really did look washed out. The birth must have been a shock. The first birth you saw always was.
‘Why don’t you have a sherry, dear? To celebrate,’ she suggested magnanimously. She didn’t approve of young women drinking in pubs. She and Ellen had had bitter rows about it in the past. But a glass of sherry now and again in the privacy of one’s own home was perfectly acceptable.
‘No thanks, Mam,’ Ellen murmured.
‘I wonder how poor Emma—’
‘Mam, Dad, I’m . . . I’m pregnant.’ Ellen’s voice shook. Sheila stared at her uncomprehendingly.
‘What did you say, Ellen?’ She felt a frisson of alarm. She’d been wondering how Emma had got over her fright and Ellen . . . no she couldn’t have . . . she must have misheard.
Sheila lowered her sherry glass. ‘I’m going to have a baby,’ she heard her only daughter say. The words sounded like a roaring in her brain. Her heart started to thump. She couldn’t speak. She looked at Mick. He looked at her. Stunned. Sheila felt her insides dissolve as her world came crashing down around her ears. As long as she had lived in Glenree, she had been respected, admired, even envied by her peers. She was proud of her husband and her family. And justifiably so. Mick had his own business and was a pillar of the community. Vincent and Ben were doing very well for themselves in their respective careers. Especially Vincent who was going from strength to strength. His marriage to Emma, and even their magnificent house, were a source of great pride to her. Now, it was all for nothing. Ellen had just put the entire family beyond the pale.
Tears came to her eyes. Her hands trembled. Anger ripped through her.
‘How far gone are you?’ Her eyes were like ice chips.
‘Five months,’ Ellen muttered.
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph!’ Sheila was horrified. Mick covered his face with his hands. He didn’t know what to say.
‘Well, my lady, you can marry the fella that’s done this to you and you’ll marry him quietly in the next fortnight. We’ll have to go and talk to Father Kelly. You have that Chris come and meet your father and myself tomorrow night so we can make the arrangements.’ Sheila’s voice shook with emotion. She felt like slapping her daughter’s face.
‘Chris won’t marry me,’ Ellen said quietly. ‘He’s finished with me.’
‘By God, he’s not finished with you. And he will marry you. No daughter of mine is going to have an illegitimate child.’
‘I’m telling you, Mam. He’s left me. He won’t see me. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in two weeks.’
‘We’ll see about that. Won’t we, Mick?’ Sheila glared at her husband, demanding that he back her up.
‘We’ll go and talk to him on Monday,’ Mick fumed. ‘He’ll accept his responsibilities if I have anything to do with it.’
‘I’m telling you, Mam—’
‘Enough! Get out of my sight. I don’t want to hear another word out of you. Your father and I will handle this. What will Pamela and Judge Connolly think when they find out about this sorry mess? You’ve disgraced us, Ellen.’ Sheila sat ramrod-straight, pale and utterly unforgiving.
‘I’m sorry,’ was all Ellen could say.
‘It’s too late for that. Go to bed. Your father and I have to talk.’
‘But I have to talk too.’
‘You’ll just do as you’re told. You . . . you . . . tramp.’
‘That’s enough, Sheila!’ Mick warned. ‘Ellen, go to bed. Now, Sheila, what’s done is done. Ellen’s our daughter and there’ll be no name-calling,’ Mick ordered quietly as Ellen walked out of the room.
‘How could she? How could she, Mick?’ Sheila was distraught. ‘She was always the same. Running after fellas. Down there in that pub acting like a slattern. Drinking beer! Oh Bonnie Daly was always rubbing it in. Wait until she hears about this. She’ll be in her element. They all will. I’ll never be able to show my face in the guild again.’ Sheila burst into tears. Tears of anger, rage, frustration and shame. She’d never forgive Ellen, never.
‘Let’s go to bed. It’s been a long day. We’ll talk about it in the morning. Ellen’s not the first girl to get into trouble and she won’t be the last.’ Mick rubbed his eyes wearily.
‘She’s the first on my side and your side of the family,’ Sheila retorted sharply. ‘Imagine how I’ll feel telling the relations about this. If that Wallace brat thinks he’s running away from our daughter after getting her into this mess, he’s got another think coming. First thing Monday morning, Mick. Do you hear me? The three of us are going to tell that young man just where his responsibilities lie. You go to bed if you want to. I couldn’t possibly sleep.’ Sheila marched out into the kitchen and started to clean the top of the cooker even though it was after eleven. She had to do something to keep herself occupied. Either that, or go and strangle her daughter with her bare hands.
Ellen removed the hated roll-on, with a strange sense of liberation. Her bump protruded, round and smooth. She needn’t try to hide it any more. She’d go and see Doctor Elliot sometime during the week. Miriam was right, she should be taking iron tablets. She didn’t want to harm her baby. It was bad enough denying its existence for the past five months.
She’d been right about her mother, she thought wearily as she pulled off the heavy sweater that had imprisoned her all day. She stank of stale perspiration. She’d love to have a bath, but it was a bit late and besides it would take ages for the water to heat up if she switched on the hot water tank.
She sat on the bed and listened to the murmur of her parents’ voices downstairs. It was hard to believe that she’d finally told them about being pregnant. Never, as long as she lived, would she forget the unbearable tension of waiting for Sheila to come home from Miriam’s. Every minute had seemed like an hour. She’d been so tempted to blurt it out to Mick as he sat doing his crossword puzzle. But she’d resisted the urge. What was the point in having to make the same confession twice? Do it once when her parents were together and lessen the ordeal.
Ellen winced as she remembered the expression in her mother’s eyes when she’d told her. Fury and utter disgust. The boys had always been her mother’s favourites anyway, Ellen thought bitterly. She’d been a grave disappointment as a daughter. She didn’t like cooking or sewing or gardening or housework. She’d resented the way the boys got off scot-free from doing household chores when they’d lived at home and had often argued long and loudly about the unfairness of it. Much to her parents’ annoyance.
Sheil
a was furious when Bonnie Daly asked her did she not mind about Ellen drinking beer in the Glenree Arms. Bonnie had more or less implied that Ellen was behaving in a most unladylike fashion. There’d been an almighty row when Sheila confronted Ellen about the fact that she was drinking behind her parents’ backs.
Ellen was enraged by her mother’s double standard. Her brothers were allowed to drink, why wasn’t she? She told Sheila not to be so bloody old-fashioned and to take no notice of that nosy old crab, Daly, whose own daughter wasn’t slow to lower the odd sneaky short.
‘Why can’t you settle down and get married like other girls and stop behaving like someone with no rearing?’ Sheila fumed.
It hurt Ellen that her mother was so disappointed in her. But she had to live her own life. If she lived the way her mother wanted her to live, she’d end up a loony. When Joseph ditched her for his whey-faced Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, Sheila was bitterly disappointed. She’d been planning the wedding for ages in her mind. Needless to say, she’d blamed Ellen for losing him. Another failure, another mark against her. Now, finally, Ellen had given her mother the biggest blow any mother could suffer.
There would be no forgiveness. Ellen didn’t expect any. Sheila had meant it when she’d called her a tramp. There was no going back.
Mick was disappointed in her. But he was easygoing. He’d get over it. He, unlike Sheila, couldn’t care less about what neighbours thought.
Ellen sighed. She heard Mick’s heavy footstep on the stairs. As soon as he went to bed she’d go into the bathroom and wash herself. A breeze whispered through the window, the white lace curtains fluttered in the moonlight. Ellen went and stood by the window. It was a beautiful night. A full moon shone brightly between the gently swaying treetops. The stars glittered against an inky sky. The Plough so clear she felt she could trace it with her finger. The breeze made a shushing sound through the trees, like the sound of the sea. Where was Chris, she wondered. Who was he with? Was he walking along Killiney beach with Suzy? Pain so sharp it made her catch her breath pierced her heart. Didn’t he care about her at all? Maybe when he was faced with her parents he’d come to his senses. It was a forlorn hope but it was all she had. Ellen stood in the moonlight, crying silent tears.
‘You’re going to Wicklow to another house party?’ Chris fumed. He and Suzy were having lunch in the Capitol restaurant and his girlfriend had just dropped her bombshell.
‘They’re nice people. I like them. I like getting out of Dublin for the weekend now and again. It’s not as if I’m away every weekend. It’s ages since the last one.’ Suzy was so offhand he could have strangled her.
‘It’s not that long ago. Why can’t I come with you?’
‘Because you weren’t invited, darling,’ she said patiently.
‘But I don’t want you to go away for the weekend,’ Chris argued petulantly. He’d worked his butt off morning, noon and night for the last two weeks, setting up on his own. It had been exhausting. And now that he’d finally gone solo he was feeling apprehensive. Working alone was exhilarating and nerve-racking at the same time. He wanted to talk to Suzy about it, but he knew it bored her. Now, just when he’d been looking forward to a weekend of relaxation, she announced she was off to Wicklow without a thought for him. He wanted to relax and he wanted to get Suzy into bed. He hadn’t had sex since his last night with Ellen.
At the thought of Ellen Chris suddenly felt very lonely. It was strange, but he missed her. If she’d still been a part of his life he’d be able to tell her all about his new business. Wallace Insurance Brokers Ltd. She would have been thrilled and proud to see the impressive lettering on the shiny brass plate beside the door of his new office. Suzy had just murmured ‘very nice’ when he’d shown it to her. She didn’t approve of him going out on his own. She thought it was too big a risk to take.
Ellen had been all for it. She’d have listened to all his plans and given good advice. More importantly, she would have given him a hand setting up the office. She would have made a good secretary. Ellen had brains, unlike the dozy young woman he’d hastily hired. He’d actually caught her painting her toenails in the office and she was forever on the phone wittering on about this bloke and that to one of her equally dozy girlfriends. She wasn’t going to last the pace . . . for sure. As soon as he was established, she was out on her ear. He needed a secretary with a bit of get up and go.
Chris sighed as he watched Suzy take a delicate bite out of her sandwich. She was a very ladylike eater. Nibbling this and that. Suddenly he felt enormously irritated. Ellen had never nibbled at food. She enjoyed her food, just like he did. Ellen would never have announced that she was taking off just like that for a weekend. She’d never have left him in the lurch. She’d have cherished him and soothed him and made a fuss of him, especially at this most stressful time in his life. If only she hadn’t got bloody well pregnant they’d still be together. He pushed away his bowl of oxtail soup. He didn’t fancy it now. To tell the truth he felt extremely guilty about Ellen. He knew she’d been phoning him at work. He’d even gone so far as to hang up when she phoned him at home. He’d felt a right heel after that. He’d gone and got pissed. She’d sounded so forlorn on the phone. He just couldn’t handle it.
He couldn’t possibly take on a wife and child right now, he argued silently with himself as the waitress in her smart black dress and white apron and little frilly cap removed his half-eaten soup. If only Ellen had told him earlier, he could have taken care of it. Sent her to London to have a little job done. They’d still be together. She’d probably be working for him. Maybe they would have married eventually. Ellen loved him. She knew how to take care of him.
Chris glowered at Suzy sitting opposite him sipping her coffee. That was more than he could say about her right at this moment. . . the stupid cow . . . he thought irritably.
‘I mean it, Alexandra. I think I’m pushing it. He was in a foul humour. He barely gave me a peck on the cheek when I was leaving.’ Suzy unpacked her cocktail dress and smoothed it out before hanging it up.
‘Well that’s just what he needs.’ Alexandra was unimpressed by Lover-boy Wallace’s foul humours.
‘He’s up to his eyes with his new business. I think he was crazy going out on his own. If it fails he’ll have no money. I can’t marry a pauper,’ Suzy moaned.
‘Chris Wallace won’t fail,’ Alexandra assured her. ‘Anyway his family’s loaded, he’ll always be jammy.’
‘True.’ Suzy brightened. ‘He was as mad as hell, though, about me going. He said it was the first free weekend he’d got since going out on his own and he wanted to relax, eat out, go for a walk in Killiney, go to a film. It would have been nice.’
‘Yeah, maybe we have to change our tack a little,’ Alexandra conceded as she stepped out of her white silk lingerie and headed for the bathroom where a foamy scented bath awaited her. ‘It might be a good time to overwhelm him with some TLC. Perhaps it’s time to spend a night with him.’
‘Do you think so?’ Suzy asked eagerly as she perched on the edge of the bath. She lit two cigarettes and handed one to Alexandra who was now reclining up to her neck in frothy white bubbles.
‘Hmm. He’ll be feeling sooo sorry for himself he’ll fall all over you. Now the plan is: You go home early Sunday afternoon and surprise him. Seduce the daylights out of him this once, just to remind him of what he’s missing. Only once mind . . .’ Alexandra warned. ‘And we’ll proceed from there.’
‘I can’t wait.’ Suzy gave a long languorous stretch. She wished it was Sunday afternoon. The prospect of spending the night with Chris made her tingle with anticipation. He certainly knew how to turn her on. For two pins she’d have dumped her clothes back into her suitcase and gone haring back to Dublin this minute. But that wasn’t cool behaviour. After a weekend without her, he’d really appreciate her all the more, Suzy assured herself.
He’d been thinking about Ellen all weekend. Twice on Friday afternoon he’d picked up the phone to call her. But lost his nerve.
Then by chance he’d bumped into Emma at her mother’s where he’d gone to deliver a few of his business cards and prospectuses in case Pamela or his uncle might know of a few potential clients. ‘How’s all in the back of beyond?’ he asked lightly. ‘How are all the culchies?’ It annoyed Emma when he said things like that about her in-laws.
‘Glenree is not the back of beyond,’ Emma snapped. ‘And don’t you dare refer to Vincent as a culchie. He’s got more money and a better business than you have, buster.’
‘I was just teasing.’ Chris grinned. His cousin was looking very prettily pregnant. How ironic that Ellen was in the same boat. Chris wondered whether she’d told her family yet. It was only when he’d really looked at Ellen that he’d seen the signs. To most people it would probably look as though she’d put on weight.
‘Well it is the back of beyond sometimes,’ Emma agreed, grimacing. ‘I’ve to go to a party at my mother-in-law’s. How ghastly!’
‘How’s Ellen?’ he asked offhandedly.
‘She’s a moody madam. I don’t see that much of her,’ Emma drawled. ‘You’re not still interested in her, are you?’
‘I was just wondering. She was a bit of a gas,’ Chris said lightly. By unspoken agreement, neither he nor Ellen had told Emma and Vincent that they were seeing each other again. It was obvious Emma didn’t know that Ellen was pregnant. He felt vaguely relieved. Somehow the thought of Emma looking down her superior little nose at Ellen, as she surely would when she found out about the pregnancy, bothered him.
Maybe if he phoned Ellen and arranged to meet, they could talk about him providing some money towards the baby’s keep. Maybe Ellen could come and work for him as a secretary. It was the best he could offer, but marriage was definitely out of the question at the moment.
He felt much better having come to that decision. Less of a heel. He went home, showered and shaved, and went out on the town for the night with a few pals. He’d a hell of a hangover the next morning and stayed in bed until well after one. And by the time he got his head together and made up his mind to phone Ellen, it was after four. He was apprehensive as he dialled the number. What would she say to him? Would she be glad he’d called or would she never want to speak to him again? He wasn’t sure which he’d prefer. But at least she couldn’t say he hadn’t called.
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