Promises, Promises

by Patricia Scanlan

  Ellen had given up the idea of ever getting married. Who’d want her now? The wrong side of thirty with a young daughter. A spinster of the parish of Glenree.

  ‘Oh give over,’ she muttered. At least she’d known the heights of passion and she’d loved deeply and wholeheartedly. No-one could take that away from her. It wasn’t her fault that she’d fallen in love with a complete and utter shit. She wasn’t the first to have had her trust broken by Chris. He’d left a trail of destruction in his charming wake, but she had Stephanie. The joy of her life. And for Stephanie’s sake she’d get on with things as best she could.

  Mick dried the gleaming silver blade of his carving knife and hung it up beside the rest of his implements. He sluiced out the sink thoroughly and wiped the blue and white tiles surrounding it. His shop was spotlessly clean. As was his freezer room and the back room he was in now.

  He frowned as he polished the taps. He was very troubled about Ellen. He could understand her desire for independence and he agreed with it, even though he’d miss Stephanie very much if they left. Stephanie was the apple of his eye. He adored her. But Sheila was not an easy woman to live with and if anything ever happened to him it was going to be extremely difficult for Ellen to live under the same roof as her mother without him to act as a buffer. A site was out of the question now. Even if Sheila changed her mind – and Mick knew he could change it for her – Ellen would feel under a compliment and Sheila would hold it over her for the rest of her life. That defeated the whole purpose. Ellen needed to be free from her mother. It was a sad thing to have to admit, but it was the truth. Mick sighed deeply, his brow furrowed, as he polished his gleaming taps with vigour.

  Something had to be done about it. And it was up to him to do it.

  Ten minutes later he locked the door behind him. He saw Bonnie Daly and Mona Cullen coming out of the coffee shop. They’d been in selling tickets for a parish raffle. The coffee shop could do with a lick of paint, he noted. He owned the building but it was leased to the two Boyle sisters and they were getting a bit beyond it. They were in their mid-sixties. He’d organize Willie O’Donnell to come and paint it next week. It paid to keep buildings in good repair.

  The butcher’s shop and the coffee shop were his, he thought crossly. He was annoyed with Sheila for making the remark about the land. Marriage was all about sharing. She’d get a fine jolt if he informed her that the shops were his and nothing to do with her. He’d bought his butcher’s business with his own money.

  Now he was being as bad as his wife, he decided as he got into his car. That Alpine blue that Ben had used on his house was a nice colour. Maybe he’d paint the coffee shop blue and white. His eyes strayed upwards to the first floor, the windows were peeling faded green paint. A nice fresh lick of paint would give the place a facelift. His eyes widened as he thought of something. It was so bloomin’ obvious it had been staring him in the face. Mick grinned a huge melon-slice grin. Sheila might like to think that she was the boss but in the end, when Mick put his foot down, she knew he meant business and this time his foot was going to be put down very, very firmly.

  He started the ignition and paused to bless himself as the Angelus bell rang out over Glenree.

  ‘The Angel of the Lord declared unto Mary . . .’ he prayed. He’d be declaring unto Sheila in a very short space of time. And if she didn’t like it that was her tough luck. He finished the Angelus and braced himself for the ordeal ahead.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Vincent. I just can’t believe that I’ve to come off the pill,’ Emma sobbed. ‘Maybe he’s made a mistake.’

  ‘You’re coming off it and you’re staying off it. We’ll manage fine.’ Vincent gathered her up in his arms and held her tightly. ‘I’ll use condoms.’

  ‘But you hate them,’ Emma wept.

  ‘Don’t worry about that. We’ll work it out. The most important thing is your health, pet,’ Vincent assured her.

  ‘I’m terrified I’ll get pregnant.’

  ‘You won’t. I promise.’

  ‘But I like making love whenever we like. I like seducing you unexpectedly.’ Emma raised teary eyes to her husband.

  ‘I like it too.’ Vincent smiled. ‘We’ll just have to have more seductions the times we’re allowed. We’ll be panting for each other after a few days abstinence. We’ll be like the way we were on our honeymoon.’

  Emma’s eyes brightened. ‘I never thought of that.’

  ‘Anyway there’s lots of other things we can do.’ He leaned down and whispered in her ear.

  Emma giggled. ‘I love you, you pervert.’

  ‘I love you too, you pervertess. So stop worrying your head over silly things. I better go and collect Julie Ann. I’m very late.’

  ‘Ah Miriam won’t mind, she’s the best in the world.’ Emma felt very cherished as she lay in the circle of her husband’s arms.

  ‘Girls, have you finished your homework?’ Miriam stuck her head around the dining-room door where Connie, Rebecca, Stephanie and Julie Ann were giggling and skitting.

  ‘Yessss,’ came the chorus.

  ‘Right, Stephanie, your mam will be here soon, tidy up your books. You too, Julie Ann. Connie and Rebecca, go and set the table for the tea.’

  ‘Aw Mam,’ Connie objected. ‘We’re having fun.’

  ‘Connie, your Auntie Della is coming this evening and I want the tea over early. Do it now.’ Miriam was in no mood to be trifled with. She hadn’t got home from Emma’s until nearly two. And she’d been going like the hammers of hell ever since. But at least the washing and hoovering were done. All she had to do was change Daniel’s bed.

  She was walking down the hall with an armful of clean bedlinen when Sheila marched through the open front door.

  ‘Hello, dear. I’ve come to collect the scones.’

  Miriam’s jaw dropped. She’d completely forgotten about her mother-in-law’s cake sale.

  ‘Don’t say you haven’t done them yet. Tsk. I’ve wasted my journey and I haven’t got Mick’s tea ready.’ Sheila made no effort to hide her irritation. ‘I’ll collect them first thing in the morning.’

  Something inside Miriam snapped. ‘Mrs Munroe, I’m up to my eyes. I spent all morning over at Emma’s. Della’s coming to stay overnight. I haven’t stopped all day and I didn’t get a chance to do any baking.’ She was so angry her voice trembled.

  ‘Well that’s all right, dear. They’ll do tomorrow.’ Sheila was taken aback.

  ‘No!’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Munroe, I won’t have time to bake. You’ll just have to do without my scones this time,’ Miriam declared.

  ‘Oh well if that’s the way it is. I won’t take up any more of your valuable time,’ Sheila retorted huffily. She turned on her heel and marched out the door.

  Miriam stared after her. It was the first time that she’d ever stood up to Sheila. Her palms were sweaty. Her heart was racing. She felt sick, but she was damned if she was going to bake scones after the day she’d had.

  Sheila was extremely put out, as she cycled home . . . sconeless . . . Miriam had been downright rude. She might have had a tiring day, certainly, but there was no excuse for bad manners. She’d promised Monica Anderson a batch of scones as well as the dozen fairy cakes and the two apple tarts that she’d baked. She’d just have to go home and bake the scones herself after tea. It was very vexing though. Sheila glowered as she freewheeled down Red Barn’s Hill. By the time she got home she was in a thoroughly bad humour. She’d got a puncture at Daly’s stables and had had to push the bike the last half-mile home.

  She’d only just set the table when Mick arrived.

  ‘I’m late with the tea. I went over to Miriam’s to collect a batch of scones for the cake sale and she hadn’t baked them. Nor is she going to do them for me. I feel very let down,’ she grumbled as she whipped eggs for a mushroom omelette.

  ‘That’s not like Miriam. Maybe she hadn’t got time.’

  Mick sat in the arm
chair by the range and took out his pipe. He was dismayed to find Sheila in a bad humour.

  ‘Hadn’t got time, indeed. How did I manage with no washing-machine or hoover when I was married first? I had to scrub and hand-wash and you didn’t hear me moaning about not having time. And I had three children to rear and a farm to look after. Women today just don’t know what hard work is.’

  ‘Well you should be taking things easy, Sheila. You have your children reared. We have Eoin to work the farm. It’s time you slowed down a bit,’ Mick said soothingly.

  ‘How can I take things easy? Cooking and cleaning for the four of us. I’m not a lady of leisure like Bonnie Daly. She doesn’t have a daughter and grandchild expecting their meals on the table.’ Sheila was in martyr mode and not to be pacified.

  ‘Well that’s why Ellen wanted to get a place of her own,’ Mick pointed out delicately. ‘She doesn’t want to be putting you out.’

  Sheila, realizing that she’d walked herself into it, backtracked furiously.

  ‘Oh they’re not that much bother. And I won’t have people saying we put them out on the street. I’m not agreeing to give Ellen a site if that’s what you’re on about.’ She was raging with herself.

  ‘If you don’t want her to have the site there’s nothing I can do about it.’ Mick stood up. ‘But I’ve been thinking what’s best for all of us and I’ve decided, if Ellen would like it, that I’m going to do up the rooms over the shop and let her live there.’

  ‘What!’ Sheila’s jaw dropped. ‘You can’t do that. What will people say?’

  ‘People can say what they like,’ Mick retorted. ‘I want Ellen to have a roof over her head and a bit of independence. I don’t want Stephanie to have to put up with you and her mother arguing the toss. It’s not fair on the child. It’s a good solution, and if Ellen agrees, that’s the way it’s going to be.’

  ‘You always were too soft with her. What are the boys going to say? They’re as entitled to their share in that shop as she is.’ Sheila was furious. She’d been well and truly outmanoeuvred.

  ‘The boys will be well looked after, Sheila. You know that. All our children will be treated the same. You wouldn’t agree to give Ellen a site. So I’m giving her the top of the shop.’

  ‘Oh do what you like.’ Sheila was so mad she wanted to pour the bowl of whipped egg over Mick. Instead she sliced the mushrooms viciously and glared at her husband who had retreated behind the protection of his evening paper.

  There’s been a row, Ellen thought with a sinking heart as she and Stephanie walked in through the back door. Miriam hadn’t been in good form either, so Ellen hadn’t lingered.

  ‘Hi, Grandad. Hi, Nannie.’ Stephanie bounced over to Mick and planted a big kiss on his cheek.

  ‘Hello, love.’ Mick beamed and returned his granddaughter’s embrace.

  Stephanie skipped over to her grandmother. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘No, dear. Tea’s nearly ready. Go and wash your hands and sit down.’

  ‘Can I do anything?’ Ellen asked.

  ‘I have it all done,’ Sheila replied frostily.

  Suit yourself, Ellen was tempted to retort but she kept quiet.

  Stephanie chattered away through the meal, but Ellen said nothing. Sheila sat rigid and ignored her husband and daughter. ‘Can I go and play on the swing?’ Stephanie asked when Sheila started to clear away the dishes.

  ‘Just for a while. And come in when I call you.’ Ellen smiled at her.

  ‘Thanks, Mammy. You’re the best mammy in the universe,’ Stephanie declared and gave Ellen a hug that nearly strangled her. Ellen laughed. ‘Go on and no arguing when it’s time for bed.’

  The three adults watched the little girl race out the door. Mick felt sad. He’d miss Stephanie around the house. She was a happy little soul. But childhood didn’t last for ever and, as she grew older, life with Sheila and Ellen would get much more difficult.

  ‘Ellen, sit down for a minute. I want to talk to you,’ he said evenly.

  Sheila clattered the cutlery in the sink.

  Ellen looked at her father, wondering what was coming.

  ‘I know you want a place of your own. And I can understand why. Your mother has her reasons for not wanting to give you a site and I have to respect her wishes. But I’d like you to have a place of your own. So, if you’d like, I’d be willing to do up the top floor over the shop for yourself and Stephanie. There’s a good plot at the back you could turn into a garden.’

  Ellen sat, stunned. Mick looked at her, his ruddy face anxious as he waited for her reaction. Maybe she would think he wanted to get rid of her, he thought, suddenly uncertain that he’d made the right suggestion.

  ‘Oh, Dad . . .’ Ellen murmured. Her face lit up and she jumped up and put her arms around him.

  ‘Oh, Dad, that would be brilliant. Thanks very much. I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Well believe it,’ he said, hugging her tightly.

  Sheila, back ramrod-straight at the sink, watched Stephanie playing on the swing and felt strangely bereft.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘We could put two bedrooms and a small bathroom in a converted attic. There’s plenty of room up there. And we could partition off the big room here on the first floor and turn it into a kitchen-cum-dining-room. Or you could have the kitchen separate. Whatever you like, Ellen. And that would leave this room as your sitting-room. You just tell me what you want and I’ll have an architect draw up the plans.’ Doug Roche hooked his thumbs into the belt of his jeans and smiled at Ellen.

  Doug was the builder Mick had asked to renovate the first floor. Ellen had known him for years. They’d gone to school together as children, and hung around as teenagers. Doug had started working with his father after school and, when his father died, he’d carried on in the building trade. He was highly regarded. When Doug Roche did a job, he did it properly. He’d built Ben and Miriam’s house as well as many other houses in Glenree. He was reliable and that was enough for Ellen.

  ‘That sounds great to me, Doug. Could I have an archway from the kitchen to the dining area? I’d keep the fireplace, it would be nice and cosy.’

  ‘Sure. That would be fine. It would work very well. I’ll get a few different ideas on paper and show them to you. There’s only one problem, I’m afraid, I won’t be able to start work until after Christmas. I’ve a house to finish and a few other jobs. So you might want to get someone else.’

  Ellen was disappointed. Now that this great opportunity had landed in her lap, she was anxious to get going. She couldn’t wait to move into her new home. For a moment she was tempted to tell Doug she’d look for someone else. But she knew he was good. And he’d been exceedingly helpful and patient with her queries. Doug was nice. He treated her the same as he always had since they were teenagers. He was courteous and respectful. She didn’t want anyone else. She liked him.

  ‘I’d like you to do it, Doug,’ Ellen said firmly.

  ‘Right, I’ll organize the architect and get you a quote. You can start looking at curtains and paper and the like. But seeing as I won’t be starting until after Christmas, maybe you should wait until the sales before you buy anything. It might save you a few bob.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll do that.’ Ellen smiled at him. He smiled back. He’d nice hazel eyes. She’d never really noticed them before. He was attractive in his own way. He was tall, with a lean muscular build. He had lovely silky chestnut hair and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache. He wasn’t married. Ellen remembered vaguely that he’d been engaged to a girl and she’d dumped him a few months before they were due to be married. She didn’t know if he was dating anyone now.

  ‘See ya then.’

  ‘See you, Doug.’ Ellen watched him lope down the stairs and was glad she’d decided to wait until he was ready.

  After he’d gone, she wandered through the rooms. Mick used them for storage and there were shabby pieces of furniture, rolls of lino, trunks, old newspapers and a jumble of bric-a-brac that needed so
rting. She could have lived here years ago if only she or Mick had thought of it. It was dingy, dark and neglected now but, once all the stuff was cleared out of it and the papering and painting was done, it would look really nice. For the first time in a long long time, Ellen felt a little flicker of happiness.

  She walked into the back room, lowered the window and leaned out to survey what would soon be her back garden.

  It was a wilderness. Although Mick kept the grass cut, blackberry bushes and brambles encroached on three sides. The garden backed onto a meadow where cattle grazed peacefully. It was a picturesque view and Ellen looked forward to clearing the hedges and brambles and planting masses of wild roses, her favourite flower. It could be really nice, she thought happily. She’d put a swing in it for Stephanie and get a little patio laid for herself and have tubs of flowers like Miriam and Ben had in theirs.

  She did a little twirl. The peace here was soothing. No tension, no stress. It was going to be a real haven. All she had to do was get through the next few months, and then her life was going to change completely. She couldn’t wait.

  The weeks that followed were busy ones for Ellen. She was learning to drive. Mick showed remarkable forbearance and, once she mastered the gears and gained some confidence, she began to enjoy it. As soon as she had put Stephanie to bed each evening, she would go over to the shop and work upstairs for a couple of hours. Mick and Ben had cleared all the junk out of the rooms and Ellen scraped the wallpaper off the walls and prepared the doors and skirting boards for painting. It was hard work but she enjoyed herself immensely. She listened happily to Radio Caroline as she scraped and scrubbed her new abode.

  Sometimes Miriam came over to help out. She was thrilled for Ellen and they’d spent a couple of delightful Saturday mornings looking at curtain materials and wallpapers in Dublin. They treated themselves to lunch and promised each other that it was something they would do on a more regular basis.

  Because she was in a much more positive frame of mind and had so much to occupy her, Ellen found that she could keep to her diet more successfully than ever before. The hard physical work she was doing was also helping. By the week before Christmas, she had lost almost a stone and she was determined to keep it off. Her face had lost its bloated look, her stomach was much flatter and she had shoulders again. It was great to fit back into a size fourteen. She treated herself to some new clothes and a good winter coat in a lovely shade of royal blue. It was very smart. One day, on the spur of the moment while she was in the city, she walked into a hairdressing salon and got her hair cut in a shorter layered look that was rather sophisticated for her.