Promises, Promises

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Good evening, ladies,’ she said brightly. ‘I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.’

  ‘Not at all, Sheila,’ Marcy Nolan, the president of the guild, assured her warmly.

  ‘I thought you mightn’t feel like coming,’ Bonnie said sweetly as she vacated her chair. ‘I was going to do the minutes if you weren’t here.’

  ‘And why wouldn’t I be here, Bonnie?’ Sheila enquired as she laid her notepad and pen on the table.

  ‘Ah . . . you know,’ Bonnie said conspiratorially, her little sharp eyes full of knowing.

  ‘Bonnie, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Sheila said crisply. ‘I never miss committee meetings.’

  Bonnie’s eyes narrowed. Sheila Munroe was not playing the game. By rights she should be subdued and abashed, not swanning in looking like Lady Lala and taking over, as usual.

  ‘I thought you might be a bit upset over Ellen,’ Bonnie murmured coldly.

  Sheila lifted her chin. She was aware that the rest of the committee were watching and listening with avid interest. ‘And why should I be upset over Ellen?’ she challenged, although her stomach was tied up in knots and her knees trembled.

  ‘Well . . . with her being pregnant.’ Bonnie’s eyes were hard and triumphant. Bertha Reilly gave an audible gasp, aghast at Bonnie’s bad manners.

  ‘But Bonnie,’ Sheila said coolly, ‘Ellen’s six months pregnant, why should I start missing meetings now because of her?’

  ‘Oh!’ Bonnie was flabbergasted. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. Sheila should be embarrassed and humbled, not aggressive and in control.

  Sheila gave her an icy glare. She’d snatched victory from the jaws of defeat and turned the tables on her erstwhile friend. But she’d never forgive or forget Judas Daly’s betrayal.

  ‘I think we should call this meeting to order. After all we’re having a talk on flower arranging and people will be arriving shortly,’ Sheila suggested, all business. She sat beside the president and, when the meeting was officially opened, read the minutes of the last meeting in a clear firm voice. Her insides were like jelly, her knees shook, but not by the flicker of an eyelash would Sheila let Bonnie and her cohorts see that she was churned up inside. She’d got through the worst of it, she’d carry it off, she told herself fiercely as discussion raged about whether to hold a whist drive or a beetle drive to make money for the church repairs.

  Well done, Sheila, Miriam silently applauded her mother-in-law. Bonnie Daly was livid. Miriam watched her fidget at the table, two mottled pink spots of suppressed rage staining her cheeks. Good enough for her, Miriam thought grimly. Bloody troublemaker. Sheila had really held her own tonight and Miriam had to admire her.

  As she was not a committee member, she was not entitled to sit at the table, so she sat near the edge of the stage in the body of the hall. People were beginning to trickle in, determined to get the front seats for a better view.

  ‘Oh look, there’s Sheila Munroe. Did you hear about Ellen? I bet that’s a right kick in the teeth for Airs-and-Graces Munroe. I wonder who’s the father?’ Miriam heard a middle-aged woman say to her companion. They obviously didn’t recognize her.

  ‘I think she was going with a fella from Dublin. A Flash Harry if ever I saw one. He drives a big car. I believe he’s related to the judge’s daughter.’

  ‘How did you know that?’ The plump middle-aged woman settled in her chair and lit a cigarette.

  ‘Agnes Shaw does a bit of cleaning for Emma Munroe and she heard her and the husband giving out yards about this bloke Ellen was going with. He’s supposed to be a real womanizer.’

  ‘Are you serious? Well I heard from Bonnie Daly that he’s no intention of marrying Ellen, so she’s up the creek rightly.’

  ‘When you get to her age and there’s no sign of a ring on your finger you get a bit desperate. It might teach Sheila a bit of humility. You know the way she goes on? Who but me?’

  They were enjoying their gossip immensely. Miriam made a mental note to advise Emma not to discuss personal business in front of her cleaner. It was inevitable, of course, that people would gossip. That was the way of small towns but it was distressing that the subject was Ellen. She might put on a couldn’t-care-less front, but Miriam knew she was finding the going very tough indeed. If only Chris had stuck by her. The poor girl was mad about him, even after all he’d done. How could she keep deluding herself that he cared about her. The only person Chris Wallace cared about was himself. Couldn’t she see him for the low-down, selfish skunk he was? It baffled Miriam. The saying ‘Love is blind’ was certainly true of Ellen.

  The committee meeting ended and Sheila made her way down the steps of the stage to join Miriam, who’d kept a seat for her.

  ‘You were great,’ she whispered.

  ‘Do you think so?’ Sheila whispered back. ‘When Bonnie said about Ellen being pregnant, I didn’t know whether I was coming or going and that’s God’s honest truth.’

  ‘No, you were great. No-one would know that you were at all upset. Bonnie was very taken aback,’ Miriam said reassuringly.

  ‘Imagine doing that to a friend! I couldn’t believe my ears,’ Sheila fumed. Now that the committee meeting was over, and she had time to think, she was beginning to realize the extent of Bonnie’s treachery. It hurt.

  ‘Well people know now. And the president was nice to you.’

  ‘Marcy Nolan’s a lady. Unlike some I could mention,’ Sheila declared with a frosty glare in Bonnie’s direction. Bonnie bristled. She’d heard that last remark, as she was meant to. Fortunately the lady who was giving the talk began her speech and silence descended upon the fifty or so ladies who all wanted to learn how to arrange flowers.

  By the time Sheila got home she had a vicious headache. Nevertheless she triumphantly gave Mick a blow-by-blow account of the evening’s events.

  ‘Oh Bonnie thought she’d try and embarrass me all right, Mick. But I settled her hash for her I can tell you.’ Sheila fixed her hairnet around her head and got into bed beside her husband. ‘And to think I thought of her as a friend.’

  ‘Never you mind about her. We’ll find out who our real friends are in adversity. And when we find them, we’ll cherish them and to hell with the rest.’ Mick yawned, put his arms around Sheila and within minutes was snoring.

  Sheila lay in the circle of her husband’s arms. A tear slid down her cheek. Tonight had been the most humiliating night of her life. Bonnie had tried to make a show of her. And she was supposed to be a friend. Some friend! Sheila had seen other women eye her curiously, lapping up her discomfort. If only she could be like Mick and not let it affect her. But she wasn’t like him. People’s opinions mattered to her. She felt heart-scalded and humiliated as she remembered Bonnie’s hard triumphant eye when she’d dropped her bombshell. Mick might say to hell with her, but Sheila knew she’d never forgive Bonnie Daly’s betrayal. And furthermore, if she could get even, she would. Hours later, after much tossing and turning, Sheila fell asleep planning the most satisfying malevolent, revengeful things she’d do and say if she ever got the opportunity.

  Chapter Ten

  When Sheila slapped her dinner down in front of her the following evening, Ellen knew she’d been right. Her mother’s anger and resentment had increased a hundredfold now that everyone knew. She might hold her head up high in public and pretend that Ellen’s pregnancy was not the trauma that Bonnie and some of the others would have liked it to be, but Sheila seethed with rage and resentment and Ellen was not going to be allowed to forget it. She resigned herself to a long hard winter.

  She’d like to get a flat somewhere. Swords, a couple of miles away, would be ideal. But that would upset her father and she was dependent on him. She’d have to give up work when the baby was born. She couldn’t possibly expect Sheila to look after it, she’d probably commit infanticide.

  Being dependent was a daunting prospect. She’d always had her own money. She’d always been free to come and go as she pleased. She was
going to be very beholden once she gave up work. Her father wouldn’t rub it in, but Sheila would, at every opportunity.

  The months leading up to the birth were ones of quiet desperation. The sleepless nights were long and lonely. The trauma of being pregnant and unmarried was nothing compared to the turmoil she was in over Chris’s brutal rejection of her. If she’d felt anger it would have been so much better for her. It would have given her something to focus on and keep her going. But Ellen was too shocked, too hurt to be angry. She’d loved Chris with every fibre of her being. She would have done anything for him. She’d have spent her life trying to make him happy. He knew that and he’d turned his back on it. It made her feel worthless. Her sense of self was shattered.

  She spent most of her time in her room or over at Miriam’s. She felt like a guest in her own home. She couldn’t be herself. Before, if she was in a bad humour everyone would know about it. But these days she couldn’t indulge the luxury of letting rip. Sheila was just looking for an excuse for a good row and Ellen wasn’t going to give it to her.

  When Sheila saw her in her first maternity dress, she burst into tears. ‘You make sure you keep your coat on when you’re down the town, you don’t want half of Glenree to see your shame,’ she snapped.

  It was just as well that it was the middle of winter, and that she had to wear her overcoat. Even that didn’t completely hide her. It was a tight fit. But Ellen was saving as much money as she could for after the birth. She decided to walk into town to the surgery instead of going on her bike. Cycling was a bit awkward now that she was eight months gone. It was a bitterly cold night. A piercing wind whistled through the bare branches of the trees. It was freezing and thin ice that hadn’t thawed all day covered the puddles. A full moon with a ring around it forecast storms.

  She passed Vincent and Emma’s house, looming dark against the sky. They were still living at her parents. Julie Ann would be coming home from hospital the following week. She was now a healthy five and a half pounds. Ellen had never seen her.

  ‘She’s tiny and dainty like her mother,’ Miriam told Ellen. If it wasn’t for Miriam she’d never know what was going on with them. Sheila certainly didn’t discuss Vincent and Emma with her.

  The house looked empty and cold. Ellen wondered if they’d spend Christmas there. Sheila was baking Christmas cakes and puddings, but her heart wasn’t in it this year. It was a chore rather than a chance to impress the guild. She always donated a Christmas cake and pudding to the guild’s annual Christmas draw and her offerings were highly prized.

  Ellen dreaded Christmas. Her baby was due the week after Christmas. Doctor Elliot had asked her if she’d like to have it in hospital or would she prefer to have him deliver the baby at home, as he had Rebecca. Ellen dithered. At times she thought she’d prefer the anonymity of the hospital. But she didn’t want to face people and the thought of seeing other women with their husbands was not one she relished. If her mother had been in any way sympathetic, she would have had the baby at home. But the last person she wanted to have watching her as she writhed in the throes of childbirth was Sheila.

  ‘Why don’t you have the baby in my house?’ Miriam invited when Ellen confessed her doubts and indecisions. Ellen was overwhelmed by her sister-in-law’s kindness. Miriam had her hands full with three young children and yet she was quite willing to have Ellen give birth in her home.

  Doctor Elliot gave the idea his full approval. He was keenly aware of the pressure Ellen was under. He knew Sheila was doing nothing to make his patient’s life any easier. Miriam was just the person to be there for the birth and he’d warned Nurse Delaney to be available.

  The lights of Glenree twinkled in the distance as Ellen rounded the bend and stood at the top of Healy’s Hill. She felt very tired. Her back ached and she was dying to go to the loo. She should have gone before she left the house. Still, she comforted herself as she began her descent into the small valley, she’d had a very healthy pregnancy. She hadn’t had morning sickness or heartburn like Miriam had had. And so far, her blood pressure was fine, unlike poor Emma.

  It was a relief to reach Kirwan’s pub. She slipped in through the side door and went into the ladies. Ellen was glad there was no-one else there. She wasn’t in the humour for awkward chit-chat. On her way out Dessie Burke passed her in the hall. He was an elderly, stooped man, a friend of her father’s.

  ‘Howya, Ellen? Everything all right?’

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ she replied.

  ‘Good! Good! Give my regards to your dad.’

  ‘I will, Mr Burke.’ Ellen smiled as she stepped out of the pub. He was a nice man, nicer than a lot around here, she thought contemptuously as she saw Mona Cullen and a few other holier-than-thou hypocrites leaving the church. They were worse than the Pharisees. Everybody in town knew when Mona and her cohorts had done a good deed. They were forever prostrating themselves in front of the altar, saying rosaries, doing the stations, licking up to the priest. It was sickening. The forty hours adoration was on tonight. Sheila had been to church earlier to do her stint. Ellen paused. She’d always liked the forty hours though. There was something peaceful about it.

  On impulse she walked up the pathway to the door of the church. The main lights were out. Only small sidelights shone along the side walls. The altar was aglow from the flickering light of dozens of long slim white candles. The votive lights around the statues on the side altars were all casting a glow to the recessed shadows. Flowers bedecked the main altar and the steps leading to it. The women of the church committee had spent hours arranging them and decorating the altar for this special annual event. It was a beautiful sight. Incense scented the air with its heavy sweet perfume.

  A few parishioners knelt scattered throughout the church. Ellen slipped into a seat and sat in the flickering candlelight and was glad she’d come. A sense of calm enveloped her as she sat silently, immersed in the serenity and peace of the chapel.

  She stayed a little while, resting, letting her thoughts run hither and yon. She was reluctant to leave this tranquil oasis, but leave she had to. She hauled herself up and walked slowly out of the church. A few youths loitered at the church gates. One of them made a muttered remark to his mate as she walked past. He guffawed. Ellen ignored them. Little shits. That was the trouble with living in a small country town, everyone knew your business. There were times she hated Glenree, she thought viciously. A one-street dump. She stared around. The street lights gave off an orange glare adding to the gloom of the night. A couple walked into the Glenree Arms. They were arm in arm, laughing. Ellen felt suddenly lonely. All the shops were dark. A trio of giggling girls smoked a shared cigarette in the alleyway beside the coffee shop. Two dogs chased each other across the shadowed green opposite the school grounds. Ellen shivered. Everywhere seemed bleak and threatening. It hadn’t always felt like this. When she’d been a teenager, she’d smoked cigarettes in the alley and chatted up the fellas. It had been fun, exciting. She’d always looked forward to going out with her friends. But she’d grown up and Glenree had stayed the same and now there was nothing in it for her. Dispiritedly, she headed towards the surgery. She just wanted to get the visit over and go home.

  Doctor Elliot pronounced himself pleased with her progress.

  ‘Another couple of weeks now and you’ll be able to see your feet again.’ He smiled as he helped her on with her coat. ‘All is well.’

  Bonnie Daly happened to be walking towards her as Ellen left the surgery. She was going to play cards in the hotel. The older woman immediately crossed the street, head averted, as if the very sight of Ellen would contaminate her. Bonnie no longer shopped for her meat in Mick’s shop.

  Bitch, thought Ellen grimly as she carried on along Main Street. She saw the Dublin bus, heading for the bus stop. How many times had she got that bus into town to go and meet Chris? A terrible aching twisted her heart. She’d give anything to see him, to be with him, to spend the night in his arms. A crazy impulse overcame her and, almost
before she knew what she was doing, Ellen hurried to the bus stop and stepped into the ancient old crock that groaned and creaked with every gear change. As the bus increased speed through the town, Ellen sat back in the hard threadbare seat and felt her heart pound with excitement. Maybe Chris might have changed his mind after all this time. Maybe he’d be so delighted when he saw her again he’d realize what he’d been missing.

  Exhilarated and happy and full of anticipation, Ellen planned her happy reunion with the love of her life, as the bus left the lights of Glenree for the ebony darkness of the winding country roads that led to the capital.

  Later, as the bus drove through the suburbs of the city, Ellen began to question her crazy impulse. Was she mad? How could she possibly want to see Chris again after the abominable way he’d behaved? Even now, she cringed at the memory of him telling her parents that she wasn’t a virgin. It had been the most unforgivable betrayal. Yet, she could not sustain the anger. Which was a pity, she thought wryly. If she hated him it would be much easier to get over him. Sadness engulfed her. If only they could get back to the way they were before she’d told him of her pregnancy.

  They’d had good times. Times of laughter and happiness when every thought of him had brought a smile to her face. She missed their lovemaking and the feeling of being sexy and attractive to him. She missed touching him, caressing him in the way that lovers do when they can’t take their hands off each other. She missed the knowing, intimate shared glances. Most of all Ellen missed not having the opportunity to cherish him the way she used to. She’d liked cooking special dishes for him, sewing buttons on his shirt, buying him little chocolate treats to satisfy his sweet tooth. Did he not miss being cherished and cared for? Suzy was not the sort to pamper a man, Ellen thought unhappily. She had a hard streak to her. Yet, Suzy was the woman he’d chosen. What had Suzy done right and where had she gone wrong?

  Ellen’s high spirits dipped and wavered. She looked down at her great bulk, concealed under a big navy coat. There was nothing sexy about her now. But their relationship was based on much more than sex, she argued silently. Chris had confided in her about his business deals. He’d listened to her opinions. Her spirits rose exuberantly. Maybe his new business had settled down and he wouldn’t be quite so one-track minded. Maybe he’d want to see her, to tell her about how it was going. Maybe he’d want her advice about things. Her horoscope in this week’s Woman’s Own had been very positive. Mercury was transiting her star sign and affairs of the heart were well starred. Love would be hers if she had courage and declared herself. Her life would change completely. It was so accurate, it was uncanny, Ellen reflected as she rooted in her bag to find the little cutting. She often kept her horoscope cuttings when her stars were particularly apt. It’s an omen, she decided as she read it again. Her life was going to change completely. But maybe it would change even more, if Chris decided to marry her.