Promises, Promises

by Patricia Scanlan

  She’d thought about not going for a ride this morning. It had been two a.m. before she and Vincent had got home from Gillian and Frank’s New Year’s Eve party. It hadn’t been a great party. Declan Mitchell had got absolutely smashed as usual and puked all over Gillian’s white leather sofa. It was disgusting and it put a real dampener on the evening. People started to drift off as early as twelve-thirty. She and Vincent had left around quarter to one and driven to Killiney Bay for a kiss and a cuddle. Emma grinned at the memory. Vincent was a great husband. He was very good to her, very protective of her. Completely different to that swine, Declan. Poor Lorna had been so upset she’d called a taxi and left. Emma pitied Lorna Mitchell. How awful it must be to know that people dreaded having your husband as a guest.

  He’d better not puke in my house today, she thought grimly. But then he wouldn’t have been drinking all day. She was having a luncheon party. It was a very clever move on her part, Emma thought smugly. Very sophisticated, very in. Luncheon parties were far less trouble than a full-scale evening do. And the joy of it was, she’d booked caterers to take care of it, so she had nothing to do. Hence her morning gallop. She was really glad she’d gone riding. Her head was clear and free from the lingering effects of last night’s champagne. She’d drunk a lot of champagne. She loved bubbly. So had Suzy. She’d been fairly tipsy. Imagine having to face two little toddlers first thing this morning. Emma shuddered at the thought. Chris hadn’t been in great form. He’d been arguing with Alexandra Johnston and it had turned quite nasty. A thought struck her.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she muttered. ‘Did I? Oh hell!’ Emma reined Cleo in and sat deep in thought. She had. Definitely. It had popped out. Her tongue loosened no doubt by several flutes of champers. Emma gave a deep sigh and turned Cleo in the direction of home. She’d better go and get it over with and face the music. Vincent would freak . . . for sure.

  ‘You did what? I don’t believe it.’ Vincent stared down at his wife.

  ‘I’m sorry, Vincent. I was tiddly. It just . . . just slipped out,’ Emma said penitently.

  ‘You asked Chris Wallace and his wife to our lunch party?’ Vincent shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, Vincent! Chris isn’t a pariah. It all happened so long ago. Ellen’s got over him. We keep meeting him. It’s ridiculous at this stage. He’s my cousin and I’m very fond of him.’

  ‘He’s also Stephanie’s father. And he’s never even seen his daughter,’ Vincent snapped. He didn’t want that bastard Wallace in his house.

  ‘Look, Vincent. I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose. Maybe they won’t come.’ Emma looked at him, her beautiful brown eyes mirroring her distress.

  He softened. ‘Maybe they won’t,’ he agreed. ‘Just don’t expect me to fall all over them if they do. It’s just as well Ellen is having lunch at Denise McMahon’s. It would have been extremely awkward if she’d been here. I’m sure she’d have felt very betrayed.’

  Stuff her, Emma thought crossly. She was delighted Ellen couldn’t make it to her party. If it was left to her, she wouldn’t have invited her at all! She refrained from commenting.

  ‘We won’t say anything to Ellen about Chris being here. OK?’ Vincent said sternly.

  ‘OK,’ Emma agreed, breathing a mental sigh of relief. He hadn’t taken it too badly. Much better than she’d expected actually. ‘I’d better go and get dressed,’ she decided.

  Vincent watched her walk out of the sitting-room. It was hard to stay mad with Emma for long. But he hated the idea of Chris Wallace coming into his house. Whenever they met at parties or at Emma’s family gatherings, Vincent always studiously ignored him. What he really wanted to do was take him into a dark alley and thump the daylights out of him.

  He and Ellen didn’t always get on, but blood was thicker than water and Chris had made Ellen suffer. Vincent knew he had no real understanding of the pain his sister had experienced. He had, thankfully, never been hurt in love, but if it was anything like what he’d endured when he’d thought Emma was going to die when Julie Ann was born, it was pretty dreadful. Although Ellen exasperated him and infuriated him sometimes, and he didn’t approve of what she’d done, she was still his sister and his loyalty was to her. And if Chris Wallace said one word out of place, he’d be out the door on his ear, no matter what Emma had to say about it.

  ‘Do you want to go or don’t you?’ Suzy, bleary-eyed and hungover, turned over on her side and stared at her husband. Chris buried his head under the pillow and grunted.

  ‘Answer me, will you?’

  ‘Do you want to go?’ Chris muttered.

  ‘Well we haven’t been invited to their house since that night you dumped me for Vincent’s tarty sister. And that was years ago.’ Suzy sniffed.

  ‘Cut it out,’ Chris growled. ‘Who’s going to mind the kids?’

  ‘I’ll ask Vivienne to. She’s getting their breakfast. She’ll be delighted with the extra money. You know students.’

  ‘We’ve to go to Des Reid’s party tonight.’ Chris sat up, reached out and shook a cigarette out of the packet. He lit up and inhaled deeply.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t smoke in the bedroom, Chris,’ Suzy snapped.

  ‘Ah give over. Is Alexandra going to this lunch?’

  ‘I don’t think so. She’s not really a friend of theirs. She just knows Gillian and Frank. Why?’

  ‘Because if she was going I wouldn’t be. Smart-assed bitch!’

  ‘Well you started it,’ Suzy defended her friend loyally. ‘You shouldn’t have said that about her hair.’

  ‘I only asked her was it deliberate or had her hairdresser a grudge against her,’ Chris said sulkily. ‘Every time I see her, her hair is a different colour.’

  ‘Yeah, well she gave you your answer.’ Suzy giggled remembering how Alexandra had swiftly riposted, ‘At least I’ll still have hair when you’ve gone bald.’ Chris was extremely sensitive about his receding hairline.

  ‘She’s a big mouth and always was.’ Chris scowled.

  ‘Well are we going or not?’

  ‘You’re mad keen to go, aren’t you?’

  ‘It’s up to you.’

  ‘All right then.’ Chris swung out of bed and walked into the ensuite, leaving Suzy staring after him.

  Maybe she was wrong to push him, she thought. Something had happened between Vincent and Chris. She’d never asked about it, knowing that it was a subject that was taboo. It was something to do with the sister. A fleeting memory came to her. An image of a pale-faced girl standing between an older man and woman. It had been a long time ago and she’d never asked Chris about the trio who had knocked on his front door that Monday morning years ago. Instinctively, Suzy knew whatever had happened was something that could damage her relationship with her husband. It was something she didn’t want to explore further. Suddenly she didn’t want to go to lunch at the Munroes.

  She got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. Chris was standing in the shower soaping himself.

  ‘Maybe we’ll stay at home,’ she suggested.

  ‘I’m up now, we’re going. Let’s see what the rich relations have done with the mansion since we were there last.’ Chris grinned. He reached out his arm and pulled her in beside him.

  ‘Chris!’ She squealed as the water drenched her and made her nightie cling to her damp body.

  ‘It turns me on,’ Chris said huskily. ‘Come on, baby, feel what it does to me.’ He pressed himself close against her and kissed her hotly. ‘Do you want me? Tell me you want me? Tell me what you want me to do to you?’ he murmured against her parted lips.

  ‘I want you,’ Suzy whispered as he caressed her nipples with his thumbs. ‘I want you to—’

  ‘Mummy. Muuummyyy . . . Adam pulled my hair. Where are you?’

  ‘Shit!’ groaned Chris.

  ‘For God’s sake!’ Suzy stepped out of the shower, closed the glass door and grabbed a towel as Christina barged in.

  ‘Mummy, your nightdress is all wet!’ C
hristina looked at her mother in amazement.

  ‘Why aren’t you down having your breakfast?’

  Christina’s lower lip wobbled. Her mother was cross with her. She’d been expecting sympathy. ‘Adam pulled my hair!’ She began to howl.

  ‘Oh Lord,’ Suzy groaned. Her daughter’s high-pitched crying was giving her a headache.

  ‘Stop crying. Stop crying,’ she urged hastily. ‘I’ll deal with Master Adam.’

  ‘Will you give him a slap?’ Christina sniffled.

  ‘Just go down and tell him he’s in trouble when I’ve had my shower.’ Mollified at the prospect of her twin’s impending punishment, Christina raced out of the room to let him know retribution was at hand.

  Suzy dropped her towel, and pulled her soaking nightdress over her head. She opened the door and stepped into the steaming cubicle. Chris wrapped his arms around her, but her desire had gone. She let him make love to her, half-expecting a return visit from Christina. Chris didn’t notice her preoccupation, but then, he didn’t take as much trouble to satisfy her as he had when they’d first become lovers, Suzy thought resentfully as he groaned with pleasure and climaxed.

  Two hours later they drove through Drumcondra, heading for Glenree. Both were silent. Lost in their own thoughts. Suzy was sorry she’d brought up the subject of going to the Munroes. What if Vincent’s sister was there? Maybe that was why Chris was suddenly eager to go. He’d had a fling with her once. Maybe he’d want to rekindle old passions. He was getting bored with her. Suzy sensed it in their lovemaking and it scared her. She didn’t want to lose Chris to another woman.

  Idiot! She cursed herself silently. Why couldn’t you have left it alone? As the miles sped past, her stomach tensed up in knots and her head throbbed. It was her own fault, she thought savagely. This was something she’d brought on herself.

  Chris tapped his fingers against the wheel. What the hell was he doing, going to Glenree? What kind of fucking asshole was he? He knew that Vincent would have his guts for garters if he could and that Emma had only issued the invitation because she was pissed.

  What would he do if Ellen was at this party? What would he say to her? Maybe his daughter would be at it. His six-year-old daughter whose birthday was St Stephen’s day. He’d buried thoughts of them so deep. He’d cut them out of his life and pretended it was all a nightmare that had never happened. Ellen and Stephanie Munroe didn’t exist as far as he was concerned. They hadn’t existed for six long years. Until now.

  He’d love to see Ellen again. The thought had consumed him since Emma had invited them to lunch. When he’d pulled Suzy into the shower that morning it wasn’t her he’d been fantasizing about, it was Ellen. The thought of making love to her again excited him. Ellen had been the best lover he’d ever had. With her, there’d been no barriers. She had reached his mind, body and soul. She knew him for what he was. And she accepted him, faults and all. She had offered him unconditional love and he’d walked away from it. Walking away from Ellen had been the biggest mistake of his life.

  She hadn’t married. Emma would have told him if she had. He wondered did she ever think about him. Chris felt exhilarated, as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice. Maybe she’d be there. Maybe there’d still be a spark between them.

  He pressed his foot on the accelerator. For the first time in months, Chris felt alive.

  Ellen put the key into what would soon be her own front door and felt a little thrill of satisfaction. What a wonderful way to start the New Year. She felt optimistic. Stephanie raced up the stairs ahead of her. Ellen had been concerned about how her daughter would feel about leaving the farm; after all, it was the only home she had ever known. But Stephanie was as excited about the move as Ellen was. The idea of having her own bedroom was thrilling for her especially when she knew there was going to be a second bed for when her cousins wanted to stay over. She had often stayed with Rebecca, and very occasionally with Julie Ann, now she was going to be able to invite them to stay with her.

  ‘I can’t wait to have my bedroom in the roof.’ She grinned a toothy grin. She’d lost one of her front teeth and she looked so appealing Ellen wanted to smother her with hugs.

  ‘I can’t wait for mine either.’ Ellen beamed.

  ‘Tell me again. What room is this going to be?’ Stephanie danced into the bare front room.

  ‘This is going to be our sitting-room. And this room in here . . .’ Ellen led the way into the back room, ‘is going to be our kitchen and dining-room.’

  ‘Are we going to have a pantry like Nannie?’

  ‘No, we’re going to have a fridge like Auntie Miriam.’

  ‘Are we going to have a toast maker like Julie Ann?’

  ‘Yeah, why not? We’ll buy ourselves a toaster,’ Ellen declared. She was dying to have her own china and pots and pans. She’d had a most enjoyable time in the last few weeks, buying bits and pieces for her kitchen.

  ‘Julie Ann said Auntie Emma said she wouldn’t like to live over a shop.’

  ‘Well we’re looking forward to living over a shop, aren’t we? That’s all that matters. Isn’t it?’ Ellen smiled down into her daughter’s trusting blue eyes. Emma was such a patronizing bitch and she said far too much in front of Julie Ann. Just because she’d walked into an easy set-up. Vincent slaved for her. She never had to worry about anything. All she had to do each day was to get up and enjoy herself. If she was in Ellen’s situation, she’d be damn glad to live in a flat over a shop, Ellen thought furiously. Why couldn’t she keep her smart comments to herself? And Julie Ann was a little brat, rubbing Stephanie’s nose in it. She was always at it.

  Forget it, she told herself. Don’t let it spoil your day. She was looking forward to having lunch with Denise. It was an unexpected invitation. She’d gone down to the Glenree Arms with Ben and Miriam for a drink the day after St Stephen’s day. Doug had been there and he’d joined them. Then Denise and Jimmy McMahon had arrived and they’d all started talking about the old days. They’d had a great laugh. Even dour old Jimmy had had a chuckle.

  ‘We really should do this more often,’ Denise had said animatedly as she and Ellen powdered their noses in the ladies. ‘I haven’t had as much fun in ages. We used to have fun, didn’t we, Ellen?’ she added wistfully.

  Ellen looked at her. Denise wasn’t really happy. She could sense it. There was a strain between her and Jimmy. He kept putting her down really rudely as if he was trying to punish her for something. Doug had made some remark about the rugby season starting soon and how Mattie O’Donoghue, his neighbour’s son, was likely to be selected for the reserves.

  ‘Is he good at scoring goals?’ Denise had asked politely. Sport was not really her forte, although Jimmy was a sports fanatic and always had his head buried in the sports results or the radio tuned to some match or other.

  ‘You don’t score goals in rugby. They’re called tries,’ Doug explained in amusement.

  ‘Don’t mind her, she’s as thick as two short planks,’ Jimmy grunted. Denise hadn’t said anything. But Ellen was disgusted. Imagine putting your wife down in company. It definitely hadn’t been said as a joke. Jimmy’s eyes were full of resentment as he glowered at Denise. To think she could have had anyone and she’d ended up with him.

  Ellen watched her apply some lipstick. Denise was very attractive. She was petite but very shapely and her dark brown hair had burnished glints of copper that shone under the bright hotel lights. Her green eyes sparkled with fun, but it seemed to Ellen that Denise no longer realized how attractive she was or what good company she was.

  ‘I saw your sister-in-law the other day. She had a gorgeous sheepskin jacket. She looked like a model,’ Denise remarked as she sprayed Blue Grass on her wrists.

  ‘I’ve heard rumours she’s having a lunch party on New Year’s Day. Miriam and Ben have been invited. I’m trying to avoid her. I know Vincent will make her ask me out of duty and I just don’t want to go. Ma and Da got out of it by offering to mind Miriam’s kids,’ Ellen s
aid glumly.

  ‘That’s a bit awkward, all right.’ Denise brushed her hair until it fell in a gleaming curtain around her shoulders. Her eyes lit up. ‘I’ve an idea. Why don’t I invite you and Stephanie and Doug to lunch? We’ve had great fun tonight. And I think you and Doug like each other.’ Mischief glinted in her green eyes. In some ways she hadn’t changed a bit, Ellen thought in amusement.

  ‘You can stop matchmaking right now,’ she said firmly. ‘Doug’s nice and I know he’s going to do a good job for me. But that’s as far as it goes.’

  ‘Come to lunch all the same. I’d really like it if you would. We aren’t going anywhere and the girls would love Stephanie to come and play. It’s going to be great that we’re only going to be living across the street from each other,’ Denise pleaded.

  ‘Are you sure? Won’t Jimmy mind?’

  ‘Him, he’s on another planet these days. I never get two words out of him. All he does is give out when he’s at home. He works too hard, Ellen. He’s always stuck in the office. It would be good for him. Please. Please, please, please.’

  It was hard to resist Denise when she put her mind to something and anyway Ellen would much prefer to have lunch with her than with Emma and her stuck-up friends.

  ‘OK,’ she agreed.

  ‘Right,’ Denise said firmly. ‘Let’s work on Doug.’

  ‘What are you doing on New Year’s Day?’ she twinkled, sitting down beside him and slipping her hand in through his arm.

  ‘What are you up to?’ Doug eyed her suspiciously.

  ‘What are you doing on New Year’s Day?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. My sister wants me to go to her. I treat it like any other day.’

  ‘I’ve just invited Ellen to lunch so that she won’t have to go to Emma’s. Will you come too?’ Denise gazed at him in wide-eyed innocence. Doug glanced at Ellen. Inexplicably she blushed.

  ‘Why not?’ he said lightly.

  ‘All sorted then.’ Denise winked at Ellen. ‘Doug, you can explain the finer points of rugby to me seeing as I’m so woefully ignorant.’