Promises, Promises

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘I love you.’ She bent and kissed Stephanie and held her tightly.

  ‘I love you too, Mammy. You look lovely. Can I have some perfume?’ Stephanie flung her thin childish arms around her neck and gave Ellen her speciality bear-hug.

  ‘Of course you can.’ She sprayed a little on her wrists and Stephanie inhaled the scent with pleasure.

  ‘Beeauutiful,’ she murmured.

  ‘Are you girls ready?’ Mick shouted up the stairs.

  ‘Coming.’ Ellen took her good royal blue coat out of the wardrobe and put it on and buttoned it up. It fell straight and elegant from her shoulders. She wound a soft black angora scarf around the neck and stared at her reflection in the mirror. If Emma’s grandmother had died six months before, she’d have looked fat and frumpy. Thank God she’d lost that weight and got her hair cut. She knew, with immense satisfaction, that she’d never looked better. It gave her the courage she needed.

  Chris sat in the old dark ornate church that reeked of candle wax and damp and polish and watched his mother, back ramrod-straight, gazing directly ahead showing not an ounce of emotion. Typical. Katherine Wallace was as cold and unemotional as ice. Chris had never seen his mother cry. Beside her Pamela wept discreetly behind her handkerchief.

  Further along the seat, Emma sat disconsolately with Vincent’s arm around her. She looked wretched. Pale and red-eyed. Chris couldn’t understand it. She’d never cared for their grandmother. Julie Ann was hopping up and down like a yo-yo looking for her cousins from Glenree so that she could show off. Just like her mother. Chris grinned.

  He and Suzy had got a babysitter. Christina and Adam were much too young to bring to something like this. Besides they’d all be expected back at his mother’s house afterwards and it would be too late for the kids to stay up. Beside him, Suzy sat aloof and unhappy. The strain between them since she’d discovered he had another child ebbed and flowed. Sometimes she was OK, other times she was cold and unloving. He wasn’t helping the situation. He was moody, restless and unhappy. He wondered would Ellen show up. He was so tempted to turn around and scan the crowds but Suzy would know what was in his mind. He couldn’t.

  He’d seen Miriam and Ben and their children standing on the steps of the church as they awaited the arrival of the coffin but of Ellen and her parents there was no sign. He felt bitterly disappointed.

  The priest began the service and everyone knelt to pray.

  Sheila was mortified as she led the way up the side aisle of the church. Mick had got lost and they’d arrived late. The coffin was already at the foot of the altar and the priest had started. She caught sight of Ben and Miriam and slipped into the pew behind, which had some spaces. Ellen followed with Stephanie and Mick brought up the rear.

  Ellen sank to her knees and blessed herself. She took a deep breath and directed her gaze to the seats at the front. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Chris, dressed in a grey business suit, beside the ever elegant Suzy who wore a belted black coat and a fur Cossack-style hat atop her blonde bob.

  Chris knelt with his head in his hands so that she couldn’t see his profile. Suddenly she was sorry she’d come. Her heart was pounding, her mouth was dry and she felt light-headed. What would she say if he spoke to her? She must keep her composure. It was vital. She murmured the responses to the prayers and, although it only took twenty minutes, the service seemed to take for ever. Finally it was over and people began to form an orderly queue to go up to offer their condolences to the bereaved family. Sheila stood up. This was it, Ellen thought. Head up.

  She ushered Stephanie in front of her and followed Sheila. Slowly the queue moved forward as people stopped to shake hands and murmur words of sympathy to Pamela, Katherine and their families.

  Four rows to go. Chris was sitting staring straight ahead at the edge of the second row. The queue shuffled on. Someone burst into tears. Ellen’s palms felt sweaty. Sheila moved slowly forward. Stephanie followed. They stopped again. Stephanie was standing directly beside her father’s seat. Ellen just behind her. She was so close to him she could have reached out and touched his dark hair. That dear familiar head that had lain on her breast as she stroked his hair after their lovemaking. She saw him turn slightly. He looked at Stephanie and looked again. Shocked!

  Ellen felt a surge of fierce triumph. She lifted her head and stared straight ahead but was aware with every fibre of her being that Chris had turned to look at her. She was sure he could hear the beating of her heart as she passed by him. But she didn’t look. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Then she was past him, showing Stephanie where to put the Mass card in the basket at the foot of the coffin. Sheila was shaking Pamela’s hand, murmuring something. Ellen turned and followed, acutely aware that Chris was staring as she offered her condolences. Pamela gave her a limp handshake. Ellen passed along the row, with her mother, shaking hands with the dark-garbed family.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ Emma said politely. They didn’t kiss. Julie Ann greeted her cousin with a squeal of delight. ‘Are you coming to the party after?’ she asked. Stephanie looked up at Ellen.

  ‘Do come back to Aunt Katherine’s,’ Emma murmured.

  ‘It depends on Nannie and Grandad,’ Ellen whispered as she prodded her daughter to follow Sheila. She kept her gaze ahead of her and followed her mother down the aisle of the church.

  ‘I’m not going back to their house this evening. They’ll have too many visitors,’ Sheila declared. ‘They know we came, that’s all that matters.’ Ellen felt an awful sense of anticlimax. Was this it? Was that all she was going to see of Chris? She hadn’t even seen him properly. He was still in the church and already Mick and Ben were leading the way through the throng out on the church steps to where their cars were parked.

  She longed to go racing back into the church. She wanted to stand in front of him and call him all the names under the sun. The hurt that had been buried for so long was back as fresh as the day he’d given it to her. Mutely, Ellen followed her parents to the car. Tomorrow was still to come. There’d be much more of a chance to see him then. Because she wanted to see him. Badly. She wanted to look him in the eye and see if he could meet her gaze. At least he’d seen Stephanie, she thought grimly as Mick eased the car out of the church grounds, into the flow of traffic.

  As they drove towards Glenree she remembered that Doug was trying out the central heating for the first time. Her heart sank. She wasn’t really in the humour. All she wanted to do was to go home and wallow in old, sad memories. But she had to go. They were making a big deal of it and it would be extremely rude of her not to be there when they’d said they’d wait for her.

  ‘Mam, I was wondering if you’d do me a favour and put Stephanie to bed for me? Doug wants me to be there when they try out the central heating so I could get Dad to drop me off before you go home. I’m sure Doug would give me a lift home,’ she added.

  ‘Certainly,’ Sheila agreed in quite a pleasant tone. She was utterly relieved to be heading home, with no comments from anyone about Stephanie or Ellen.

  ‘Thanks, Mam,’ Ellen said wearily.

  ‘Will you tell me the story of The witch. The witch. Who lives in the woods. She’s not very pretty, she’s not very good?’ Stephanie asked. It was her favourite. That and Christopher Robin.

  ‘I will. If you’re good.’ Sheila turned to smile at her granddaughter.

  ‘Let’s do Christopher Robin now,’ Stephanie begged.

  Sheila began to sing:

  ‘Little boy kneels at the foot of his bed,

  Droops on his little hands, little gold head.

  Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares.

  Christopher Robin is saying his prayers?

  As Ellen listened to Stephanie’s sweet little soprano voice accompanying her mother in the old much-loved song of her own childhood, tears pricked her eyes. Sheila had sung that to her as a child. Now she was singing it to her granddaughter. At least, whatever the rift was between her and her mother, Sheila did love Stephanie very
much. That was a blessing to be thankful for.

  She swallowed hard and sat with her arms around her daughter as the little girl sang the whole way to Glenree.

  ‘We’ll see you later, Ellen,’ Mick said when he pulled up outside the shop. Doug’s cream van was there. And so was the plumber’s.

  ‘Goodnight, Stephanie, be good for Nannie. I’ll be home soon.’ Ellen kissed her and got out of the car. She let herself into the flat. Harry met her at the top of the stairs.

  ‘We’re all ready to go,’ he informed her.

  ‘Hi, Ellen.’ Doug stuck his head around the door. He looked at her and his eyes narrowed.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She pretended light-heartedness. ‘Do I crack a bottle and name this ship and pray for all who sail in her?’

  ‘Let’s hope we won’t be sailing anywhere,’ Doug said dryly. ‘Come on. Here’s your control. Just click this switch here and, if everything’s all right, you’ll hear a low humming. That means the boiler’s ignited and the pump is going.’ He pointed to the switch in the hall. ‘Go on,’ he urged.

  She pressed the switch and a low humming broke the silence.

  ‘We’re still in one piece.’ He grinned. ‘Now all we can do is sit and wait for a while to make sure the water’s going through the system. The kettle’s boiled. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘I’d love one,’ Ellen said fervently as she took off her coat.

  ‘You look nice,’ Doug remarked as he took her coat from her.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said quietly. ‘Doug, would you be able to give me a lift home? I came straight from the funeral.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Just sit down there and we’ll hang on for a little while to make sure this lot’s all right. Here’s today’s paper if you want a read.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, grateful for his solicitude.

  ‘If you and Harry want to head off, we’ll hang on here,’ she heard him say to the other two men. Ellen was relieved to hear them agree to his suggestion. She wasn’t in the humour for their usual jokey teasing. She said her goodbyes and sat reading the paper as Doug made the tea.

  ‘Here you go.’ He handed her a mug.

  She took it from him gratefully and sipped the hot brew.

  ‘Was it a very sad funeral?’ Doug asked sympathetically, mistaking the reason for her subdued air.

  She shook her head. To her horror two large tears plopped into her teacup.

  ‘What’s wrong, Ellen?’ Doug was beside her in an instant. Concerned.

  ‘Oh Doug. I saw Stephanie’s father for the first time in years. He’s never seen her until today. And I’m just in bits.’ She burst into tears. Great heaving, gulping sobs that came from the core of her.

  ‘Ssshh. Don’t cry. It’s all right,’ he comforted, putting his arms around her.

  ‘I shouldn’t have gone. I thought I was over him. Will I ever get him out of my head?’ she asked in desperation.

  ‘These things scar you, Ellen. I know that. But you can’t let them ruin your life,’ he said quietly as his arms tightened around her and he stroked her hair as she cried like a child.

  When it was over he dried her tears, very gently. ‘You better go and fix your make-up before I bring you home. You don’t want your parents to see you’re upset.’

  ‘You’re very kind,’ she gulped.

  ‘A pal can help a pal.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll just tidy up here while you’re repairing the warpaint.’

  Ellen took out her compact and stared at herself. Her mascara had run down her cheeks and her eyes were red-rimmed. She looked a disaster. She was pathetic, she thought in disgust as she redid her make-up. All her hard-won self-possession destroyed because she’d made a stupid idiotic decision to hang on to silly dreams that should have died a death years ago.

  That was it now. She’d seen him, for all the good it had done her. From now on he was out of her life. She wasn’t going to the funeral in the morning. She’d paid her respects to the family. Emma couldn’t fault her.

  ‘That looks better,’ Doug remarked.

  ‘I feel better,’ Ellen said firmly. ‘Thanks for putting up with my blubbering. I don’t know what got into me.’

  ‘Come on, I’ll bring you home. You won’t have time to think from now on. You can start papering. I’m finished inside. I just have to do the patio and the job is done.’

  Ellen linked her arm in his. ‘It’s a lovely job. I’m really pleased with it.’

  ‘You’ll have your new car too.’

  ‘I know. I’m going to put tonight out of my head and get on with it. I’ve a lot to look forward to.’ Ellen put on her coat, tied her scarf around her neck and followed Doug downstairs. Tomorrow she was going to ask Miriam to help her with the wallpapering. The sooner she moved in, the better.

  Sheila was making marmalade when she got home. ‘I thought you’d be later,’ she remarked.

  ‘We just had to see if the heating worked. And it’s fine. Did Stephanie go to bed all right?’

  ‘She was grand.’ Sheila skimmed the top of the rich orange mixture.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll go to the funeral in the morning. I’d like to be in the shop in case Doug needs to ask me anything. He’s going to tile around the kitchen sink tomorrow. I paid my respects tonight. I’m sure Emma won’t mind,’ she said casually. She half-expected Sheila to protest but, to her surprise, her mother agreed.

  ‘There’s no need for you to go. Your father and I will be there to represent the family. Miriam can come with us if she wants to.’ Sheila’s tone was equally casual.

  Was she imagining it or was there a note of relief in her mother’s voice? Whether there was nor not, she wasn’t going to the funeral. Tonight had been trauma enough.

  ‘I think I’ll have an early night. Thanks for taking care of Stephanie for me.’ Ellen yawned.

  ‘She’s no bother.’

  ‘I’ll bring her to visit and she can stay over sometimes if you’d like,’ Ellen said awkwardly.

  ‘She’ll probably forget all about me. She’ll have her swanky new bedroom and the like.’ Sheila gave one of her sniffs.

  ‘Ma, she won’t. You’re her nannie and she loves you,’ Ellen said firmly, determined not to rise to the bait. She didn’t want a row, neither did she want to pander to Sheila’s martyrdom. ‘Goodnight, Ma,’ she said quietly and walked from the room.

  She felt weary as she undressed and slipped between the sheets. It had been a long draining day. She’d gone from the heights of exhilaration to the depths of depression. Ellen lay in bed thinking of what had happened. The old unhappiness lay heavy on her heart. Seeing Chris had brought back all the pain and hurt. It was her own stupid fault for indulging herself. She could lie in bed and wallow in misery or she could finally put the past behind her.

  She thought of him, suave and sexy in his business suit. She thought of the shocked expression on his face when he saw Stephanie. She thought of his shiny hair and how she’d been tempted to run her fingers through it, she’d been so close to him.

  ‘Stop!’ she muttered, clenching her hands as little quivers of want and need tormented her. She could hardly remember the last time they’d made love, it was so long ago. Tonight she wanted Chris, badly.

  With fierce determination, Ellen changed the scenario. Slowly, in her mind’s eye, room by room, she decorated every inch of her new home. She was halfway through her third colour change in the bathroom when she fell asleep.

  Doug sat at his desk studying plans for a house he was going to build as soon as he’d finished doing Ellen’s place. He found it hard to concentrate. Poor Ellen, she’d been very upset. It must have been tough to see the father of her child after all those years. He’d no doubt she’d been deeply in love with him. And it seemed as though she still was.

  Doug chewed the top of his pen. He understood her feelings but she was wasting her life loving someone who’d obviously done the dirty on her. He’d been there. He knew what it was li
ke. But he’d made himself get over Geena Kingston. And he was over her, he thought, a little surprised. Whoever was with her now was welcome to her. She was utterly shallow and loved only herself.

  The man Ellen loved, didn’t love her. If he had, he’d have stuck by her. He’d missed out on a hell of a lot. Ellen was a lovely woman.

  Over the past couple of months as he’d got to know her better, Doug had grown to like Ellen a lot. She’d a droll sense of humour that appealed to him and there was a kindness beneath that sometimes tough facade that was endearing. He liked Ellen. She was a very good mother. Stephanie was a great little kid. That man had lost out never knowing what a little gem his daughter was.

  Doug had felt very close to Ellen when he’d comforted her. It was nice. He’d felt needed. He hadn’t felt needed for a long time. He was going to keep in touch with Ellen after he’d finished working for her. They were friends. She’d become very dear to him.

  Chris lay in bed listening to Suzy’s deep heavy breathing as she lay asleep beside him. He envied her deeply. He was whacked. All he wanted to do was sleep, but sleep would not comfort him. His mind raced. Twice this year so far, he’d seen Ellen and his daughter. And he couldn’t get them out of his head.

  He couldn’t get over how well Ellen looked. She’d changed. She was still beautiful in the way he remembered her, but her face was thinner, more defined, and her hair suited her in the shorter sophisticated style. That royal blue coat really complemented her dark colouring. The voluptuous girlish Ellen that he’d known had gone. But the woman she was now was far more exciting and sexy. There was an air about her. A strength about her, as she’d ushered their daughter ahead of her up the aisle. He’d watched, fascinated, drinking in every detail of Ellen as she’d turned to shake hands and offer condolences to the family. His palms were sweaty, he’d felt uncharacteristically tense. She hadn’t looked in his direction once. He wasn’t even sure if she’d seen him.