Promises, Promises

by Patricia Scanlan

  At first when she saw her reflection in the mirror she was shocked. She’d always worn her chestnut hair just below her shoulders and, because it had a natural curl, it could look a bit wild. Now it was chopped to her nape and feathery fronds framed her forehead and cheeks.

  It took getting used to but it was very groomed and elegant. She liked it. It changed her appearance quite dramatically. Miriam thought it was stunning and even Emma grudgingly said that it was nice.

  She had a new image for her new life. She was never going to let herself get into a rut again, Ellen vowed.

  Sheila handed Stephanie the big baking bowl and watched as her granddaughter, who had been waiting patiently, licked the remains of the sweet fruit cake mixture. Sheila had most of her Christmas baking done but she’d promised to do a cake for the Christmas raffle in the school fair and she’d left it until the last minute. The fair was tomorrow, four days before Christmas.

  She watched Stephanie up to her ears in the creamy remains, and smiled. Vincent, Ben and Ellen had done exactly the same when they were children. She was going to miss Stephanie. She was great company. She loved hearing tales of Sheila’s own childhood and Sheila liked talking about the past. Life had been much less complicated then. Maybe she was looking back with rose-tinted glasses, but this new modern world got her down sometimes.

  In her day, if a girl got into trouble, she’d hardly dare show her face to the world again. And here was Ellen, as brazen as you like, going to live on Main Street. God knows what she’d get up to when she was on her own. Bonnie and the rest of the gossips would have a field day. And the worst of it was, Mick was aiding and abetting her all the way. Sheila felt tears prick her eyes. Mick was very very annoyed with her about the site. Her behaviour had been a blow to his pride. She should never have said that it was her land. That had cut him to the quick. If she hadn’t been so smart, Ellen would have been living in a house just down the road, out of harm’s way. Stephanie would have been able to visit every day. Sheila knew that Ellen wouldn’t be too eager to come home once she had her own place. The farm was too far from Glenree for a child to walk. She’d rightly shot herself in the foot.

  ‘Nannie, are you sad?’ Stephanie stood beside her, her big blue eyes wide with worry.

  ‘Just a little bit, dear.’ Sheila wiped her eyes and hunkered down beside her granddaughter. Stephanie put her arms around her neck and Sheila took great comfort from the loving embrace. Stephanie, God bless her trusting little heart, loved her wholeheartedly. It was a very precious love, untroubled by the tensions and strife that beset her relationship with Ellen.

  ‘I’ll miss you when you move. Wouldn’t you prefer to stay here with Nannie?’ She knew that was a low shot but she couldn’t help herself.

  ‘But Nannie, Mammy said I could have teddy bear curtains in my bedroom, an’ I’m going to have another bed for when Rebecca or Julie Ann wants to stay. But you can come and stay too,’ she added kindly. ‘We could have a midnight feast.’

  Sheila had to laugh at the idea. ‘We’ll see, love.’ She could imagine Ellen’s face if she announced she was coming to stay for a midnight feast. She’d be lucky to get invited to see the place at all. Sheila stood up and turned on the taps to fill the sink for the washing-up. This should have been a happy time in her life. Her children were reared. Her job was done, she should be sitting back enjoying the fruits of her labour. She should be enjoying her grandchildren. Instead she was deeply troubled by Ellen’s behaviour. Mick was cool to her. Miriam wasn’t as obliging as she once was. Julie Ann was as bold as brass and Vincent and Emma were letting her away with murder. And Bonnie Daly had sold more tickets than she had for the Christmas raffle and had made sure to rub her nose in it, too.

  Where had she gone wrong? She’d tried her best. She’d tried to be as good a wife and mother as she possibly could. And yet God was punishing her. Now the only real joy left in her life was being taken from her. Stephanie would grow up all too soon. And without her restraining influence. Although Sheila had to admit Ellen was quite strict with her. Much more so than Vincent and Emma were with Julie Ann. Nevertheless, Stephanie was being taken from her. Ellen was positively glowing at the thought of being on her own. Sheila had never felt so downhearted in her life.

  Doug Roche stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and walked into his bedroom. His muscles ached. He’d put in a punishing day but at least the bungalow he was building was near completion and then he could re-roof McNally’s extension and get that out of the way before starting work on Ellen Munroe’s place.

  He’d seen the lights on over the butcher’s shop and seen her through the upstairs window scraping the wallpaper. It had been nice to see how excited she’d been when he’d suggested the new layout. He was looking forward to getting the project under way. He could turn the upstairs flat into a very inviting home for her and her little girl. Ellen hadn’t had an easy life, but he admired her spirit and the way she held her head high. And she wasn’t a bullshitter. One thing about Ellen Munroe, she was dead straight and always had been.

  Doug sighed as he towelled his hair dry and put on a clean shirt. He couldn’t imagine Ellen doing the dirty on a man the way Geena had on him. He’d been crazy about Geena Kingston. A pert vivacious brunette with huge blue eyes, a snub nose and a pair of rosebud lips that were made for kissing. He’d fallen head over heels in love with her. Geena had danced rings around him. He’d driven her here, there, everywhere. He’d spent a fortune on her and never begrudged a penny of it. When she’d accepted his proposal, he’d been as happy as could be. Even though she’d put off setting a date for their wedding, saying there was no rush, he’d bought a site and they’d drawn up plans for a house. He was going to build it in his spare time. In the meantime, once they were married, they were going to live in his old family home until he had the house built.

  Geena had seemed happy enough. But one day a mate of his, Pete, had bought him a drink in Mulligan’s of Poolbeg Street, and then he’d told him that he had something to say to him. Doug listened in shock as Pete told him that he’d seen Geena in another man’s company on several occasions and he’d seen them kissing. He’d seen them as recently as the previous night.

  Doug felt sick. Geena had phoned him to cancel their date. She’d said that she had a migraine and that she was going to have an early night. He’d been very sympathetic and wanted to call to see her but she’d said no. It was just one of her migraines and she’d see him the next day.

  When he’d confronted her with it, she’d looked him straight in the eye and said yes, she was seeing someone else. Now that Doug knew, there was no point in denying it. He’d been gutted. He’d wanted to die. He had really loved her and she’d walked all over him and treated him like dirt. Used him, and then discarded him just like that. No wonder she hadn’t been anxious to set a date for the wedding. Why had she bothered going out with him, let alone got engaged to him, he’d asked himself over and over again. He was a soft touch, that was why. Geena walked out and he’d never heard from her again. She’d amputated him from her life with a callousness that he found hard to believe. He often wondered if he’d loved a split personality.

  He’d heard that she’d married her lover but that she’d left him too and taken up with a married man who left his wife and three children for her. That man was a fool, Doug reflected. Geena would never commit to anyone. She was thoroughly selfish.

  Doug had never trusted a woman since. He’d dated them. Taken what they had to offer, but he’d never let his barriers down again. Nor would he, he thought grimly as he finished dressing. What had brought back those sad old memories that he’d buried away? Looking back was a waste of time. What a fool he was to be grieving over that cold bitch when she was enjoying life with never one thought for him. To hurt someone deliberately the way she had hurt him was the worst thing one human being could do to another. He would make damn sure that no-one ever did it to him again. Doug brushed his hair, smoothed down his bea
rd and put Ellen Munroe’s architectural plans in his jacket pocket. If she was there he’d pop in and go over them with her. If not, he’d go for his usual Friday night pint in the Glenree Arms.

  Ellen sat on a milk crate and waited for the kettle to boil. She was gasping for a cup of tea. It was just gone nine-thirty and she’d been working solidly since eight. She was very pleased though. Every room was ready for Doug to start work on. All the walls had been cleared of wallpaper. All the doors, skirting boards, window sills and window frames had been sanded, ready for painting. The old carpets had been lifted and the place was spotless.

  All that was left to be done was the stairs and landing and she was halfway through that. The doorbell rang. She raced downstairs, thinking that it was Miriam.

  Doug stood at the door, the collar of his leather jacket pulled up against the sleety rain.

  ‘How’s it going? I have the plans if you’d like to have a look at them.’ His breath froze on the cold night air.

  ‘Come in. That’s great,’ Ellen said enthusiastically. ‘I’ve the place all cleared and the paper off the walls, except for the stairs and landing.’ She led him upstairs and opened the door into what would be the sitting-room.

  ‘You’ve done a great job, Ellen.’ Doug stared around approvingly. ‘I should be able to start the second week of January. If that’s OK?’

  ‘As soon as you can is fine with me.’ Ellen flicked a strip of faded green wallpaper off the front of the old shirt she was wearing to protect her clothes. ‘Excuse the state of me. I’m a shambles.’

  ‘You should see me when I come in from work in the evening. It goes with the territory.’ Doug picked a lump of plaster out of her hair. The kettle whistled.

  ‘I was just making myself a cup of tea. Would you like one?’

  ‘Why not?’ Doug agreed. ‘We can study the plans and see what you think while we’re drinking it. Are you happy with the quote?’

  ‘It’s very fair,’ she said gratefully. She had insisted on paying half of the price although Mick had argued that it wasn’t necessary. Ellen wanted to use the money she’d saved. It made the place more of her own somehow.

  She made the tea, put the milk and sugar on a tray and carried it over to the milk crate. Doug was in the other room measuring and marking.

  ‘Tea’s made,’ she called.

  ‘You know that’s a very long landing and it’s a lot of wasted space. I could make the sitting-room L-shaped and bring the door up as far as here.’ He pointed to midway along the landing.

  ‘Could you?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be a problem and it would give you an interestingly shaped room. You could put a nice fitted unit there. A friend of mine is a carpenter. He does lovely work and he doesn’t cost the earth.’ Doug took the mug of tea she proffered and eyed her quizzically.

  ‘Sounds good to me.’ Ellen felt bubbles of excitement. She was dying to see the flat when he was finished with it.

  ‘Let me show you three sets of plans I got the architect to draw up for you.’ He knelt down and spread the plans down on the wooden floorboards. His hair glinted burnished copper under the light and Ellen found herself thinking how silky it was. Doug had always been well groomed, she thought approvingly as she knelt beside him. He explained the technical details to her. Patiently answering her questions. Between them, they decided on the best plan and she was sorry when he stood up to go.

  ‘Why don’t you call it a night?’ he suggested, noting her stifled yawn as he handed her back the mug.

  ‘Maybe I will. It’s really busy at work these days with everyone buying their turkeys and hams. Thank God, Christmas only comes once a year.’

  ‘I suppose your little girl is all excited?’

  ‘Don’t talk.’ Ellen grinned. ‘She’s put ten letters up the chimney, just in case, and she’s convinced she saw Santa’s fairies flying out of Daly’s chimney one evening we were walking home. It was a huge shower of sparks but she’s certain sure they were fairies.’

  ‘It’s a great time for kids. I’m not mad about Christmas and I hate New Year.’

  ‘Me too,’ Ellen agreed fervently. ‘This year’s not so bad though. I’ve got my new flat to look forward to so that will keep me going.’

  ‘Well that’s something.’ He smiled down at her.

  ‘It’s the first time I’ll have ever lived in a place of my own. Imagine still living at home at my age.’ Ellen made a wry face.

  ‘I’m still living in my family home. When I was engaged a couple of years ago we had plans to build a house of our own but it all fell through so I didn’t bother to leave.’ Doug’s eyes grew momentarily sad. The woman who’d let him go was a fool, Ellen reflected. There was something very manly about Doug. Not in a macho sense. But there was a strength about him. He reminded her, in ways, of Mick.

  ‘Would you fancy going for a drink in the Arms?’ Doug asked out of the blue.

  ‘I look a bit of a sight. I’m not exactly dressed up,’ Ellen murmured.

  ‘You look fine. Just give your hair a brush, there’s a few bits of plaster in it still. I might re-plaster that landing wall, it’s not the best.’ Doug walked out on the landing and studied the offending wall. He seemed to assume she’d go for a drink with him. Well why not, she decided suddenly. It was Friday night. She’d worked hard for weeks. She deserved a drink. And Doug was nice. It didn’t matter that she was wearing just cords and a black polo. It wasn’t as if it was a date or anything.

  She brushed her hair, applied some lipstick and sprayed some Apple Blossom on her wrists and neck.

  ‘Do I look OK now?’ she asked as Doug strolled back into the room.

  ‘I don’t think they’ll throw you out,’ he teased. ‘Do you remember the time a gang of us went over to Sweeny’s pub in Fordstown, in Brendan Fahy’s father’s tractor and trailer, and we were thrown out. And Denise phoned up and said there was a bomb under Mr Sweeny’s toupee?’

  Ellen giggled at the memory as Doug led the way down the stairs.

  ‘Denise was as mad as a hatter. Do you remember the time she told Bonnie Daly she thought she’d seen a vision on the gable wall of the church and Bonnie nearly wet herself with excitement? Denise told her to be at the church at midnight and she was hiding in the bushes with a Chinese lantern making shapes in the dark.’

  Doug guffawed. ‘Yeah I remember that. Then Denise told her she thought she had a vocation and Bonnie had all the women in the guild doing novenas that Denise would become a nun. She was a nutcase. She just lives across the road, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Yeah, she married Jimmy McMahon.’

  ‘She might have been better off becoming a nun,’ Doug commented drolly. Ellen burst out laughing again. They were still laughing an hour and a half later after shared reminiscences of their youth. Doug offered to take her home when she said she didn’t want to stay out too late, but Ellen had Mick’s car so she was OK.

  It was a most pleasant evening. One of the nicest she’d had in a long time, she reflected as she undressed and got into bed. She’d forgotten what a wicked sense of humour Doug had beneath that reserved facade. She felt very comfortable with him. It was funny how she’d known him for years and never really taken any notice of him. He had beautiful eyes, she thought drowsily as she fell asleep.

  Doug walked home through the dark winding lanes of Glenree. It was a bitterly cold night but the sky had cleared and the stars twinkled brightly. His breath was a frosty filigree on the night air but his leather jacket kept him warm as he strode along.

  It had been a very enjoyable evening. He certainly hadn’t been expecting to have such a laugh. He’d presumed it would just be a run-of-the-mill Friday night. He’d surprised himself by asking Ellen out for a drink. He’d known her for years, of course, but it had never dawned on him before to ask her out. It wasn’t a big deal or anything, though he’d enjoyed her company. He’d forgotten what a dry sense of humour she had. She was easy to talk to as well. And she wasn’t a bit mean. She’d wanted
to buy him a drink after he’d bought the first round. Not that he’d let her. But Geena had never, in all their time together, once suggested paying for a drink. She was as tight as they come. He’d liked Ellen for offering. Beneath the tough veneer Doug suspected she was quite soft.

  He was going to do a really good job on the flat. And he’d work morning, noon and night to get it finished so that Ellen could move in soon. From the little things she had let slip, living with Mrs Munroe was not a bed of roses.

  Maybe Ellen might like to come for a drink with him over the Christmas. She didn’t seem to have a boyfriend as such. Doug knew that some of the blokes he drank with thought she was easy. He hadn’t got that impression. He sensed she was someone who’d been very hurt. He could certainly identify with that, he thought wryly as he walked up his garden path. That was one thing they certainly had in common. It had been nice to laugh the way they’d laughed tonight. He was quite looking forward to renovating the flat for her, he decided as he let himself into his cold dark house.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was bitterly cold. A biting wind stung Emma’s cheeks. She inhaled the sharp piercing air and felt invigorated. It was a beautiful day. Naked trees stood silhouetted against the deep sapphire sky. The ground crunched frostily under Cleo’s hooves as she cantered across the fields that ran parallel to the river. It was a perfect way to start the New Year.