Promises, Promises

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Oh yum.’ Ellen helped herself from the pile on the plate. Cheeks bulging they worked together harmoniously, all thoughts of their slimming regime banished as they enjoyed the best part of the Christmas dinner . . . the picking.

  For a day she hadn’t looked forward to it had been very nice, Ellen thought drowsily as she snuggled down in bed under the patchwork quilt that night. Her cold was much better. She’d had loads of energy. She’d even insisted on doing the whole wash-up herself after the meal. Later, she’d made the tea and washed up after that. She felt so energized, she could have hoovered the house from top to bottom. It was wonderful.

  Now she felt nicely tired. Not wearily exhausted, just ready for a good night’s sleep. Ellen hoped it would be as nice as the one she’d had that morning. She drifted off listening to the pitter-patter of rain against the window and the sound of the wind whispering in the trees.

  A niggling little pain woke her some time around four. Ellen turned on her side and tried to ignore it. She wanted to go back to sleep. She’d been having a wonderful dream about her reunion with Chris. The pain sharpened, deepened. She gave an involuntary little gasp. Her eyes widened in the dark.

  ‘Oh jeepers!’ she muttered, easing herself up to a sitting position. Was this it? Four days early! It was hard to believe that her time had come.

  Ellen felt strangely calm. It was out of her hands now. Her baby was in control now. She felt a flicker of excitement. Soon, she’d hold it in her arms. They’d been through so much together, she and it. She wanted to kiss it and cuddle it and tell it everything would be all right. Another pain gripped. Ellen didn’t care. She welcomed it. At last something was happening. She’d lie here in her snug little room and go through as much as she could of her labour before telling Miriam. Just her and the baby, she thought determinedly as she clenched her fists against the pain.

  It was nine before she heard anyone stir. The contractions were strong and steady. Ellen was very proud of the way she was coping. A groan was the most she’d allowed herself, and then she muffled it in the pillow.

  Connie knocked on the door and bounced into the room. ‘Auntie El, will you get up and play hide an’ seek with me?’ she asked, skipping over to the bed.

  Even in the throes of another contraction, Ellen was amused.

  ‘Pet, will you ask Mammy to come into me for a minute?’ She grimaced.

  ‘Are you sick?’ Connie looked at her curiously. ‘You look sick. Why are you making faces like that?’

  ‘I’ve a pain in my tummy.’ Ellen stifled a groan. ‘Get Mammy, love.’

  ‘I wanted to play,’ Connie said dejectedly, trailing her teddy out of the room behind her.

  Miriam arrived bleary-eyed. She took one look at Ellen. ‘When did you start?’

  ‘Around four.’

  ‘Ah Ellen! You should have called me,’ she scolded.

  ‘There’s no point in us both losing a night’s sleep,’ Ellen gasped. The contractions were much closer together.

  ‘I knew it was going to happen soon the way you were buzzing around yesterday. I always got a burst of energy before I started labour just like you did yesterday. I’ll ring Doctor Elliot.’ Miriam squeezed her hand. ‘Hang on, just keep telling yourself this time tomorrow it will be all over.’

  ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph I hope it doesn’t go on that long,’ Ellen exclaimed. ‘I’ve had enough now, I don’t want to play this game any more.’ She grinned weakly.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Miriam encouraged.

  During the following hours, Ellen thanked God and His grace for giving her a friend like Miriam. Her sister-in-law bathed her face, held her hand for the contractions and soothed her with words of encouragement and reassurance. The pain was intense and she groaned in agony and wished she were dead.

  ‘If Emma can fucking do it so can I,’ she muttered to Miriam after a particularly vicious contraction left her utterly exhausted.

  ‘Of course you can. She was knocked out for it,’ Miriam reminded her.

  ‘Lucky cow.’ Ellen licked the sweat off her lip. It tasted salty. She was bathed in perspiration despite Miriam’s best efforts to sponge her down and dry her. Think of Emma, she told herself as another contraction took hold.

  Proving that she was her despised sister-in-law’s equal kept Ellen going throughout the ordeal. Doctor Elliot and the district nurse gave her confidence and encouragement when she felt she couldn’t go on. Ellen asked Miriam not to tell Sheila. She couldn’t handle having her mother at the birth. Ben took the children into Dublin to see the Christmas fairy lights. Ellen was glad they weren’t in the house to hear her groans of pain.

  Towards the end she couldn’t help feeling that God was truly punishing her for her sinful affair. She could hear Doctor Elliot’s deep voice telling her to push. ‘And again,’ he instructed as she strained to obey.

  ‘Once more,’ he commanded.

  ‘I can’t, I can’t.’ She whimpered.

  ‘One more, Ellen. Come on now, the head’s through,’ he ordered inexorably.

  ‘Come on. It’s nearly over, Ellen. One last push and you’ll be finished,’ Miriam urged.

  Summoning every ounce of strength she had left, Ellen pushed as hard as she could and felt as if her body was being rent in two. The pain was excruciating and she howled. A tiny cry, and then a louder one, penetrated her pain.

  ‘It’s a little girl, Ellen,’ Miriam exclaimed excitedly. ‘And she’s a head of black hair.’

  ‘Let me see, let me see.’ Ellen struggled to sit up.

  ‘Patience,’ the nurse chuckled as she wiped the baby and weighed her.

  ‘She’s a little bruiser. Eight pounds.’ The nurse lifted her out of the scales and placed her gently in Ellen’s arms.

  Ellen looked down at her tiny daughter whose eyes were tightly closed and burst into tears.

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ she sobbed. ‘Isn’t she? Oh my poor little darling, don’t worry, I’ll look after you,’ she crooned, oblivious to the others. She felt indescribable love for her baby. No matter what, she’d cherish her and love her and give her the best she possibly could. No mother would do as much as she would, Ellen vowed to herself as she cuddled her baby daughter close.

  Miriam bent down to have a closer look. There were tears in her eyes.

  ‘Congratulations, Ellen. She’s a dote,’ she murmured.

  ‘Oh Miriam . . .’ Ellen couldn’t talk. She reached up her free arm and hugged her precious friend.

  ‘Thanks for everything,’ she whispered.

  ‘What are you going to call her?’

  ‘I was going to call her Ciara, but seeing as it’s the day that’s in it, I think it just has to be Stephanie.’ Ellen looked at Miriam for affirmation.

  ‘I think you’re absolutely right,’ Miriam approved. ‘Stephanie Munroe . . . Perfect!’

  ‘Oh . . . did she? What time?’ Sheila felt a myriad of emotions as Miriam told her over the phone that Ellen had just had a baby girl. Relief, resignation, sadness, resentment all struggled for supremacy.

  ‘You should have called me. What will Doctor Elliot think?’ She was annoyed that she’d been excluded from the birth. Miriam raised her eyes to heaven. That woman was a scourge and no doubt about it. She hadn’t two civil words to say to Ellen since she’d found out about the pregnancy. She hadn’t wanted her to have the baby at home, she’d put up no objections to Ellen coming to stay at Miriam’s so near her time . . . and now she was giving out because she wasn’t called for the birth.

  ‘I have to go, Mrs Munroe, I’ll talk to you later,’ Miriam said sharply.

  There was no mistaking her daughter-in-law’s annoyance. This irked Sheila. ‘I’ll be over later to see the baby, if that’s allowed,’ she retorted huffily.

  ‘Right, bye.’

  Sheila clattered the phone down on its cradle, very annoyed at being given such short shrift.

  ‘Mick,’ she called to her husband who, full of turkey and plum pudding, was snoozing b
y the fire. ‘Mick, Ellen’s had the baby.’

  Mick opened his eyes. ‘A boy or a girl?’

  ‘A girl, eight pounds.’

  ‘Aah, I’m delighted! Ellen wanted a little girl.’

  ‘Did she? I never knew that. But then of course I was the last to know anything.’

  ‘She told me a while back.’

  ‘Did she?’ Sheila was somewhat miffed to realize that Ellen had confided in Mick.

  ‘Come on, let’s get over there and see them.’ Mick got up, stretched and went out to the hall to get his overcoat.

  Sheila was sorely tempted to tell him to go on his own. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go. Seeing Ellen’s child, the fruit of her sin, was something she did not relish.

  ‘Come on, woman. Let’s go and see our new grandchild,’ Mick said exuberantly.

  ‘I’m coming,’ Sheila snapped.

  Five minutes later, Miriam ushered them into Ellen’s bedroom.

  Sheila looked at her pale, exhausted daughter and felt a pang of sympathy.

  ‘Was it hard?’ she asked gruffly.

  ‘A bit.’ Ellen was hesitant. She wasn’t sure about Sheila’s reaction.

  Sheila reached down and drew the blanket away from the baby’s face. She stared at her for a long time.

  ‘What are you going to call her?’ she asked finally.

  ‘Stephanie.’

  Sheila nodded and reached down and lifted the baby in her arms. ‘Stephanie, that’s a nice name.’ She was glad Ellen wasn’t calling it after her. She wouldn’t have liked an illegitimate child to be called after her. It wasn’t proper. She was a lovely little baby though. Much healthier-looking than either Rebecca or Julie Ann. Sheila crooned a little song at her.

  Mick bent down and kissed Ellen. ‘Well done, love. She’s a lovely baby. I’ve done up the crib at home, sanded it down and varnished it and it’s as good as new for when she comes home.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’ Ellen burst into tears.

  ‘Ah don’t cry now!’ Mick exclaimed in horror. Women’s tears always made him feel uncomfortable.

  ‘Sorry.’ Ellen gulped. ‘But thanks for doing the crib.’

  ‘You just rest yourself now. And don’t be too long about coming back home to us.’ Mick patted her shoulder.

  ‘I’ve had the chimney cleaned out in your bedroom, so we can light a fire for you,’ Sheila said awkwardly, as she handed the baby back to Ellen.

  ‘Oh, oh thanks very much.’ Ellen felt a glimmer of hope at this softening in her mother’s attitude.

  ‘Well it’s very cold.’ Sheila sniffed. ‘I have some clothes knitted for the baby. I’ll bring them over later. That’s if it’s all right with you?’ She arched an eyebrow at Miriam.

  ‘Certainly,’ Miriam said politely. ‘I’ll make a cup of tea for you now.’

  ‘Not at all, Miriam. You have your hands full with this pair. We’ll go now,’ Mick said kindly.

  Sheila nodded in agreement. Now that the baby was here there was nothing she could do about it. She’d just have to hold her head high and live with the shame. It wasn’t the child’s fault. And she was pretty. Sheila softened. She took a last look at the sleeping baby. ‘Don’t wrap the blankets too tight,’ she instructed.

  Ellen lay back against the pillows and watched her parents leave. She felt utterly relieved. Her mother had behaved far better than she’d expected. The first awkward visit was over and at least she’d held Stephanie and not rejected her outright. She looked down at her sleeping daughter and felt strangely happy. Maybe things weren’t going to be too bad after all.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘What do you want in here?’ Chris demanded. ‘I thought you wanted to buy a birthday present for your father.’ He and Suzy were in the children’s department in Clerys.

  ‘I do, but a friend of mine – you’ve never met her because she’s moved to Cork – has had a baby girl and I want to get something for her. I won’t be a minute. Stop moaning.’ Suzy picked up a little dress and bonnet and held it up. ‘Ah look, Chris. Isn’t it adorable?’

  ‘Huh,’ Chris grunted. He was feeling most uncomfortable. It was New Year’s Eve. Town was packed. This was the last place he wanted to be. Surrounded by babies’ clothes. He couldn’t bear to think about babies. His thoughts strayed to Ellen.

  His parents had thrown a party on St Stephen’s night. Emma and Vincent had been there. He hadn’t seen his cousin since the birth of her baby and, somewhat awkwardly, he’d congratulated her.

  ‘Congratulations are in order for you too,’ Emma said coolly.

  His heart did a somersault. And that response shocked him. He’d always thought he’d be so cool about it. After all Ellen’s pregnancy meant nothing to him. Now Emma was telling him that Ellen had had the baby. He was a father. He felt decidedly shook.

  ‘When did she have it? Was it a boy or a girl?’ His palms were sweating.

  ‘She had it today. It was a girl and she’s going to call her Stephanie. Mrs Munroe phoned Vincent this evening. Naturally we haven’t told the folks. They know nothing so you’re safe there,’ Emma said dryly.

  Chris flushed. But he was grateful that she’d bothered to tell him. Emma was a mate when the chips were down. Vincent, standing at the far end of the room, looked as if he wanted to take him out and murder him.

  ‘Is Ellen OK?’ Chris muttered.

  ‘I think she’s fine. Are you going to go and see them?’ Emma took a sip of her Dubonnet and white and eyed him inquisitively.

  ‘What do you think I should do?’ He was curious to see what she’d say.

  ‘Oooh Chris, that’s entirely up to you to decide. You certainly won’t be made welcome by the family. I don’t know how Ellen feels about you now. We’re not exactly bosom buddies.’ Emma scrutinized Suzy as she made her way towards them. The other girl looked extremely elegant in a black figure-hugging dress. Her blonde bob razor-sharp against the Chinese-style mandarin collar.

  ‘If you ask me, Chris, and you can tell me to mind my own business if you like, Suzy is the type of girl you should marry. She’s got style and class and is ideal for an up-and-coming businessman’s wife. As I say, it’s up to you. See you later.’

  Chris watched as Suzy undulated sexily towards him. Emma, as usual, was spot on. Suzy was perfect. She loved him. She could carry herself anywhere. She was good at entertaining. She was a stunner to look at. Other men envied him Suzy.

  He thought of Ellen and remembered the warmth of her lovemaking, and her simple, direct, honest love for him. Ellen had never played games the way Suzy did. She said what she felt, straight out. But Ellen wasn’t polished or sophisticated and never would be. Posh soirées and refined dinner parties would never be her scene. There was no point in going to see her. If he went to see her it would only hurt her. It wasn’t fair to give her false hope. She might think he wanted to get involved again. She was far better off without him. She deserved better.

  Surrounded by a laughing chattering throng Chris faced a moment of truth about himself that he would never allow to surface again. He was a coward and a heel. A weak man with no honour or integrity. He had treated Ellen like dirt and deserted her and her child. His daughter Stephanie would grow up never knowing her father. Maybe she was just as well off. Sadness engulfed him. A powerful sense of aloneness that almost took his breath away.

  ‘Hello baby. Talk to me for a while.’ Suzy slid a proprietorial hand into the crook of his elbow. He felt a desperate urge to shake it off. Women! They were always the same. Wanting. Needing. Grinding him into the ground with their demands. Why did they all have to take it so seriously? Seeking emotional sustenance twenty-four bloody hours a day.

  ‘Do you love me?’

  ‘Do you miss me?’

  ‘Did you think about me today?’

  ‘Do I make you happy?’

  ‘Is there someone else?’

  Christ Almighty! Every woman he’d been with had asked him the same questions at some point in their relationship.
Why couldn’t they compartmentalize their lives the way men did?

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Suzy asked, puzzled by the expression in his eyes.

  ‘Nothing. Let’s get out of here,’ Chris said bleakly. He intended going home and getting smashed in the privacy of his own house.

  ‘But you can’t leave! It’s your parents’ bash and anyway it’s a great party. There’s lots of your friends here.’

  ‘I don’t bloody care. I just want to be on my own,’ Chris snarled viciously.

  ‘Be like that then, you moody bastard!’ Suzy stalked away head held high. Fuck him! She was going to enjoy the party. He could go home and sulk if he wanted to. Men! They were all the same. You never knew where you stood with them. One minute they were all over you. Especially when they wanted sex. The next they were miles away, on another planet, and you were the last thing on their minds. He must have had a row with Emma, she’d been talking to him last.

  Suzy was pissed off. She’d been hoping against hope that Chris would propose before Christmas so that they could have celebrated the announcement during the festive season.

  She had as much chance of getting a proposal from Chris Wallace as she had of getting the weekend away to London that he’d promised her. There’s been no further mention of that either, Suzy thought despondently as she helped herself to another G&T.

  Chris heard his mother’s husky chuckle across the room. He glanced across at her and had to admit that she looked superb. Slender, poised, her ash-blonde hair elegantly coiffured, her make-up immaculate, the advancing years had only lightly touched her. At fifty-two, she looked ten years younger. How would she feel if she knew she was a grandmother? Not that she was particularly maternal. She didn’t go in for hugging and kissing much, Chris thought sourly. Maybe that was why he’d really liked being with Ellen. Ellen was a great hugger. He always felt comforted when he was with her. She’d make a great mother.

  Sod this! Chris scowled as he eased his way towards the door. His mother would be extremely annoyed at him for leaving her party early. He’d plead a stomach bug or something. But he had to be by himself. Emma’s news had left him shattered. If his mother was miffed, she could join the club, Suzy was giving him daggers looks. He went home and got thoroughly sloshed. It had been the worst night of his life.