Promises, Promises

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Of course I will,’ she heard herself say, as Ellen sobbed in her arms.

  She’d manage somehow. She was the one person Ellen depended on and Miriam wasn’t going to let her down.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘I still can’t believe it.’ Suzy removed the tissue paper from her veil and gazed at it with pleasure. It was her wedding day and she was deliriously happy.

  ‘Believe it!’ Alexandra grinned. ‘I told you if you listened to me you’d get the ring on your finger.’

  ‘You’re the best friend a girl could have.’ Suzy flung her arms around Alexandra and hugged her tightly. ‘Now we have to find someone for you.’

  ‘I’m not that pushed to be honest.’ Alexandra returned the hug. ‘Come on, time’s running out. We better get dressed if you want to be there on the dot. We don’t want Chris getting cold feet at the last minute.’

  ‘I’m not going to be a second late. I think brides who are twenty minutes late and more are really pushing their luck . . .’

  Alexandra gave a non-committal ‘um’ and busied herself laying out make-up on the dressing-table. It was obvious that Suzy, even at this late stage, was still unsure of Chris’s commitment. Alexandra knew she was petrified he would stand her up at the altar. Not a great start to marriage, she thought wryly. Maybe once they were married he’d change and settle down. But did a leopard change his spots? That was the million-dollar question. Still Suzy was mad about him. Chris was what she wanted and Chris was what she was getting.

  Half an hour later she stood back and admired her handiwork. Suzy was a vision in her exquisite raw silk white sheath. Baby’s breath entwined in her blonde hair which shone beneath her fine white veil. Alexandra adjusted the little Juliet cap on Suzy’s head and pronounced herself satisfied.

  ‘Let’s go, kid! This is it. Time to face the world.’

  Suzy’s hand shook as she took the bouquet of orchids from the dressing-table. She was desperately nervous. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life but she was in flitters.

  In the last few weeks, Chris had gone all moody and quiet, and found fault with everything she did. She’d been afraid to ask him what was the matter in case he’d say he didn’t want to go through with the wedding. She was so unnerved. What would she do if he didn’t turn up at the church? She wouldn’t put it past him. That was how confident she was about her husband-to-be. Deep down Suzy acknowledged that she’d always be worried about Chris’s commitment to her. It was something she tried not to think about and it was something she was going to have to cope with as best she could. Maybe it was she who should consider not turning up. But that was unthinkable. She adored Chris. She wanted to be with him for ever.

  It’s only pre-wedding nerves, Suzy told herself fiercely. Stop it now. Of all the women he’d dated, she was the one he’d asked to be his wife. That had to mean something. Of course he loved her. She was just being silly. Besides he’d have to turn up. This was the society wedding of the year. The reception was being held in the Gresham Hotel. Two hundred guests had been invited. The crème de la crème of Dublin’s high society. Some of Chris’s clients and their wives were on the guest list. He couldn’t stand her up in front of them.

  She took a deep breath, smiled at Alexandra, her greatest ally, and opened her bedroom door. Her mother burst into tears when she saw her and it was only with great difficulty that Suzy managed not to do the same herself.

  Chris surreptitiously loosened the knot on his tie. It was a hot day and a stream of sunlight shone through the ornate stained-glass window of the church, bathing him in unwelcome light. He’d a fierce hangover after a night out with his friends.

  He found it hard to believe that he was actually sitting in church waiting to get married. It was a terrifying thought. Did all bridegrooms go through this or was it just him? What was so wonderful about marriage anyway? He’d been perfectly happy the way they were. Of course it was his own fault proposing out of the blue at Christmas just because he felt under pressure over Ellen and the baby. He’d panicked and made a bad decision and now six months later it was too late to get out of it. He couldn’t let Suzy down. It was bad enough to have ruined one woman’s life.

  Oh hell! Don’t think of Ellen today of all days. Don’t start feeling guilty now for heaven’s sake, he thought miserably. But guilty he did feel. Usually he pushed such feelings to the deepest recesses of his mind. He didn’t like admitting to himself that he had treated Ellen like dirt. He’d abused her love and broken her trust. He wasn’t proud of that. Women! They were the devil’s invention.

  Chris wished he was a million miles away. He didn’t want to get married. He didn’t think marriage was a very realistic institution. Was it fair to expect a couple to stay together for possibly forty or more years? It was very unreasonable. Sure, Suzy was a great girl and they were good together but it made him feel claustrophobic to think of all those years ahead. What was he letting himself in for? A ripple of excitement spread through the assembled guests as the wedding march boomed from the vast organ at the back of the church. Chris swallowed hard. His heartbeat raced. His palms were sweaty. This was it. He stood up slowly and turned to greet his bride.

  Glenree was en fête. It was a balmy Saturday afternoon. The annual sale of work was being held on the large circular green opposite the primary school. Bunting fluttered from the shops, some of which, Mick’s butcher’s shop included, had been given a fresh coat of paint in honour of the occasion. The new young manager of the Glenree Arms had risen to the occasion and brought tables and chairs from the bar out to the pavement. Several jaunty sun umbrellas shaded the thirsty customers who sat sipping beer as they surveyed the proceedings. It was all very Continental and added greatly to the air of fun and frolics.

  Stalls edged the perimeter of the green. Book stalls, cake stalls, clothes stalls, bric-à-brac stalls, home-grown fruit, veg, jam and chutney stalls. There were crowds around all of them. A huge white marquee stood in the centre of the green and a steady stream of people entered its cool portals in search of refreshments and a respite from the hustle and bustle. Emma sat in the white shaded coolness sipping coffee. She was bored out of her mind. Resentment surged through her. She should have been at Chris and Suzy’s wedding instead of stuck here in the back of beyond with a crowd of clodhoppers who were wetting themselves with excitement because of a silly old sale of work. Julie Ann whimpered in her pram and Emma’s heart sank. ‘Don’t wake up please,’ she muttered crossly. Julie Ann was teething and was as cranky as could be. It was very wearing, especially when she started howling and couldn’t be pacified. Emma never knew what to do with her. If she started howling now, she could forget her coffee. She rocked the pram gently and felt most relieved when Julie Ann fell back asleep.

  It was mean . . . very mean of Vincent to refuse to go to her cousin’s wedding because of Ellen. That was all water under the bridge now. Why should Ellen’s stupidity be the cause of Emma missing the wedding of the season and a great day out as well? Everybody was going to that wedding. Everybody except her, she thought sourly.

  She’d argued for days when the invitation arrived, but to no avail. Vincent could not be prevailed upon to change his mind. She kept at him until one evening he’d turned on her in fury, his eyes like two chips of ice. ‘I’m not going to that bastard’s wedding to watch him enjoy himself without a care in the world, while my sister is here, devastated, her life ruined, her reputation in tatters, with a child to bring up because of him. No way, Emma!’ He was emphatic. ‘I’m surprised you’d even consider going.’

  ‘Ah, Vincent. He’s my cousin. And it takes two to tango. It’s not all his fault you know,’ she flared back.

  ‘I know that, Emma. That’s not the point. He behaved like a shit. You might think he’s charming and funny and great company, but your cousin is a selfish, devious, amoral, lying cheat. He was seeing that girl when he was carrying on with my sister. Does she know he slept with Ellen and got her pregnant? Was he sleeping
with the two of them in turn? Was he telling her he loved her, when he was saying the same thing to Ellen? What sort of a man does that? Does Suzy Kenny know any of this and, if she does, how in the name of God can she marry him? How can she trust him? How can she respect him?’ Vincent’s rage was palpable.

  ‘These things happen in life, and Ellen knew what she was getting into. We warned her, Vincent. She brought it all on herself.’

  ‘Maybe she did bring it on herself. That doesn’t justify Chris’s behaviour. Ellen fell in love with him and he encouraged her. He didn’t give a fig for her. He just used her. And then he dumped her when she needed him most. And does he give her one thought?’ He glared at her. ‘I can tell you, Emma, he does not. He probably doesn’t even remember her name.’ Vincent’s tone was bitter.

  After that, Emma knew there was no point in bringing the matter up again. She hadn’t realized, until his outburst, how strongly he still felt over the whole affair. He was right about Chris. Her cousin was a womanizer, always had been and probably always would be, but he was great fun and it would have been a brilliant wedding, she thought regretfully. She supposed she could have put her foot down and gone on her own but Vincent would have viewed that as a gross act of disloyalty. He was her husband and she loved him so the fleeting thought was regretfully dismissed.

  Emma sighed as she bit into a limp ham sandwich. Suzy’s dress would no doubt be out of this world. She had a great sense of style. Emma would love to have seen her swanning up the aisle in all her glory. Vincent’s words came to mind. How could she trust Chris? How could she respect him? How could she marry him? Chris was too selfish to commit to anyone. Actually Emma felt he was incapable of loving anyone except himself. Love is blind they said and it must be, because knowing Chris and his track record, Suzy was a brave woman to take him on.

  ‘Ellen, would you go over to Emily Doyle’s stall and get me some of her home-made chutney? Your father loves it for some reason I can’t fathom. It’s no different to mine.’ Sheila took some coins from her purse and handed them to her. ‘Leave Stephanie here and I’ll keep an eye on her.’

  ‘Right,’ Ellen said heavily.

  ‘What’s the matter with you? You’re in very bad form.’ Sheila frowned as she arranged a plate of scones between a tea brack and a jam sponge.

  ‘Nothing. I think I’ve a bit of a cold coming on,’ Ellen replied hastily. ‘I’ll go and get the chutney before it’s all sold out.’

  Sheila watched her daughter cross over to Emily’s stall at the other end of the green. She sighed. Ellen was very down these past few days. She was like a cat on a griddle. Well whatever was wrong with her, she’d better get over it. She had responsibilities now. Stephanie needed a mother, not a moping weeping willow.

  It was hard, Sheila conceded. Having a baby was difficult to cope with at the best of times. Having a baby out of wedlock was a terrible trial for a girl. If only she hadn’t been so foolish. It was a heart-scald, that’s what it was.

  ‘Would you like me to relieve you, Sheila?’ Her musings were interrupted by an unwelcome syrupy voice. Bonnie stood smiling ever so sweetly at her.

  ‘My stint isn’t over for another three quarters of an hour, Bonnie,’ Sheila responded coldly. Bonnie Daly could go and take a running jump. She’d been trying to edge her way back into Sheila’s good books ever since the episode at the guild meeting, but Sheila was having none of it. Bonnie was supposed to have been a friend. Loyalty was the very least you expected from your friends. Bonnie’s behaviour had been anything but loyal.

  ‘I thought you might be tired. It’s a very warm day.’ Bonnie’s smile remained fixed, her eyes little beads of insincerity.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you.’ Sheila was not impressed by Judas Daly.

  ‘Isn’t the little one a dote?’ Bonnie leaned into the pram and gooed at Stephanie. Stephanie started to screech, much to Sheila’s satisfaction.

  ‘She doesn’t like strangers.’ Sheila’s tone was acerbic as she came out from behind the stall and lifted Stephanie out of the pram.

  ‘Shussh, there, there, alanna. Did you get a fright? Did the lady give you a fright? Never mind, pet, Nannie’s here,’ she crooned. Stephanie quietened almost immediately. Sheila flashed her arch-enemy a triumphant look. ‘Excuse me, I’ll put her back in her pram. Come back at four, you can relieve me then.’ She paused and said coolly, ‘Your jam sponge hasn’t gone yet. Mine and Mona’s went in the first five minutes. I’ve put yours out at the very front where people can see it.’

  Bonnie’s thin lips tightened. ‘I’ll be back at four.’ This time the tone was not so syrupy, and her eyes were bright with suppressed anger. She marched off and Sheila gave a dry chuckle as she laid her granddaughter back into the pram.

  ‘Your grandmother sorted her out, didn’t she, pet?’ Stephanie gurgled at her, her big blue eyes huge in her little face. Sheila gazed at the baby with her mop of silky black hair, her little button nose and her rosebud mouth. She was adorable. If only Ellen had married the father and they were a proper family. But then, she thought, remembering her last encounter with Chris, he wasn’t a man at all, to have said the things he’d said about Ellen. God had strange ways of working. Maybe Ellen had had a lucky escape. Maybe if she’d married him she would have had a life of misery. Sheila didn’t know. All she could do was to put her daughter and granddaughter in the hands of the Almighty.

  Ellen pushed Stephanie’s pram along the winding tree-lined road past Blackbird’s Field. It was aptly named, she thought as she paused to listen to the thrilling symphony of birdsong that sweetened the air. It really was the most glorious day. The sun was warm on her face, a balmy breeze lifted tendrils of hair from her forehead. The air was fresh and clean and scented with lilacs. It was nice to be on her own for a while. Especially today of all days. A lump came to her throat.

  ‘Oh you’re pathetic,’ she muttered as tears stung her eyes. But she had a reason to cry today. She knew, via Miriam, that Chris was marrying his blonde bombshell. Emma had told Miriam all about the row with Vincent and how she wasn’t going to the wedding. Vincent’s brotherly solidarity had touched Ellen. Actually, he’d been kinder and more approachable since she’d had Stephanie and he’d suggested they let bygones be bygones. Emma remained quite frosty though. But that didn’t particularly bother Ellen.

  Miriam had told Ellen about the wedding so that she could forget about getting back with him once and for all. Would she ever forget him? Was that possible? Would time heal? She fervently hoped so. The heartache was a nightmare. Sometimes she actually felt she was in a nightmare and that she would wake up and it would all be over.

  She glanced at her watch. It was almost four-thirty. He’d be well married now, she thought with a desperate sadness that seemed to seep into every bone of her body. She felt such regret for what could have been. But he’d used her and lied to her. He wasn’t a decent person. He was weak and selfish. This was the last time she’d grieve for him, she promised herself. Chris was her past now. She had to get on with her life and look to the future. There was an old saying, No man is your enemy, no man is your friend, every man is your teacher. She’d learned a hard lesson at his hands but at least she could look herself in the eye and know that she’d given true love and she’d never lied to him. He hadn’t valued her, or her love, but it didn’t make her any the less of a person. She would hold her head up and so would Stephanie. Ellen could live with herself, but could Chris ever truly face himself? Ellen doubted it. Chris had a great knack of burying his head in the sand.

  Stephanie waved a tiny hand in the air. Ellen wiped away her tears and lifted her daughter out of the pram. ‘There’s my darling,’ she murmured, nuzzling her soft neck. She loved the sweet talced baby smell, and the soft downy feel of her baby’s skin against hers. What a fool Chris was to have disowned his daughter. He was missing so much. It was worth all the pain and heartache she’d endured to be greeted by a huge smile and have Stephanie raise her arms up to her every morning when
she went to pick her up out of her cot. Chris would never know such joy with her. And it would be his great loss.

  ‘Come on, let’s go home,’ Ellen declared. Enough was enough. She’d wasted too much of her life on a man who wasn’t worth it. It was time to move on.

  Part Two

  Chapter Fourteen

  1968

  ‘Suzy! Suzy! Did you iron a clean shirt for me?’ Chris leaned over the banisters and yelled downstairs at his wife. She was feeding their two-year-old twins and there was such a racket going on she couldn’t hear him. Chris felt so irritated he thought he was going to burst. Was it too much to ask for a goddamn clean shirt every morning? What did Suzy do all day, for crying out loud?

  He raced downstairs and almost broke his neck over a centipede on wheels – one of the twins’ toys. ‘Christ Almighty! Would you get those things off the stairs!’ he glowered at Suzy.

  ‘Why don’t you tidy them up?’ Suzy flared.

  ‘Where’s my shirt?’

  ‘I haven’t got it ironed yet.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Suzy. I’ve a very important meeting this morning. I can’t be late.’

  ‘Well iron it yourself then.’ Suzy spooned mashed Liga into Adam and then, while he was busy swallowing it, she fed Christina hers.

  ‘I’ll do that! You iron my shirt.’ Chris took the bowl of Liga from her.

  Suzy went out to the utility room with bad grace. Chris scowled after her. You’d think he’d asked her to walk barefoot across the Sahara. It wouldn’t take five minutes to iron a shirt. He didn’t know what the big fuss was about.

  ‘Me some,’ Adam demanded, as he pulled his father’s nose. Chris laughed. His son was a character. He had a strong personality, even at two years of age. Christina was more placid.

  It had been a huge shock when Suzy discovered she was expecting twins. It had taken a bit of getting used to. Until her pregnancy they’d both been able to come and go as they liked. Take off for weekends at the drop of a hat. Stay out late and party whenever they wanted. That had all changed. Now, with two toddlers, they were very tied. Although he loved them, the restrictions they imposed on his life made him feel smothered. Suzy was often short-tempered and ratty and the house looked as if a bomb had hit it with all the toys that were strewn around.