Promises, Promises

by Patricia Scanlan

  To hell with you! she thought angrily as she stalked out. She was furious with Chris. Just what did he think she was, expecting her to sleep with him in his wife’s bed? Had he no sense of decency at all? Had he no respect for Suzy even if he didn’t love her? Obviously not. Had he any respect for her? Ellen wondered agitatedly. He’d said he loved her. Did he? If he did he wouldn’t make her feel so cheap. She felt terribly insulted, hurt, and demeaned.

  Ellen drove home to Glenree, deeply unhappy.

  Chris lit another cigarette. Fuck Ellen, he wasn’t going chasing after her. If she wanted to be huffy, let her. What was the big deal? Why did it matter where they slept? Suzy wouldn’t know. So how could it affect her?

  He couldn’t go out to Glenree. He had to be home when Suzy phoned. She was beginning to get suspicious again, always questioning him about where he was and who he was with.

  He’d deliberately told her to phone him at home tonight to prove that he wasn’t out on the tiles. He’d told her he was going for a drink with some of the lads but that he’d be home by eleven-thirty. He knew she didn’t believe him so he was all prepared to prove her wrong. And then Ellen had gone and ruined the evening. Damn her attack of scruples. He’d been eagerly anticipating a night of wild sex where they could moan and groan and let it rip without having to worry about anyone hearing. He’d been looking forward to waking up in the morning with Ellen in his arms and doing it to her when she was half-asleep. And now he was going to spend a lonely night feeling bloody frustrated. She was a damn stubborn woman now. In the old days she’d never have walked out on him.

  He paid the bill and strode out into the night, feeling totally fed up.

  He wouldn’t be there, Suzy kept telling herself as the time edged slowly towards eleven-thirty. He’d only told her to phone him to shut her up. She couldn’t help it. She just knew in her heart he was seeing someone. He was in great form. He’d got his vigour back. He was very relaxed and contented. Like the old Chris. And she knew it wasn’t because of her.

  At eleven-thirty on the dot, she lifted the receiver and dialled. It had hardly rung three times when she heard his voice on the other end of the phone. Suzy’s jaw dropped.

  ‘Hello, Suzy is that you?’

  ‘Hi,’ she said, hardly able to contain her surprise. ‘I didn’t think you’d be home.’

  ‘I told you I would be,’ he said irritably.

  ‘You sound cross.’

  ‘I’m tired. I had a long day. I’m just going to get ready for bed.’

  ‘You do that,’ Suzy murmured. She still couldn’t believe he was at home. ‘I’ll see you after lunch tomorrow.’

  ‘OK, mind yourself.’

  She heard him yawn. ‘Goodnight, Chris.’ Suzy slowly replaced the receiver. It was good enough for her, for being suspicious, she reproved herself as she went downstairs to rejoin her friends.

  At around two-thirty, Suzy called it a night. As she sat on the bed undressing, her hand hovered over the phone. What would she do if she phoned and there was no answer? She’d know for definite he was up to something then. Maybe he’d gone out after she’d phoned. She had to know.

  She dialled the number. Her heart started to thump.

  Please, please let him answer, she prayed. The phone was beside the bed. It shouldn’t take him long.

  ‘Hello?’ His voice was groggy with sleep.

  Suzy hung up. ‘Thank you, God. Thank you,’ she murmured. For some inexplicable reason she felt like crying.

  He didn’t phone her that weekend. Ellen veered between intense anger and profound sadness. She knew deep down that her relationship with Chris was not making her happy. She was totally unsettled and off balance. He controlled her. He made the arrangements. He broke them. She never knew from one day to the next when she’d see him. There was no emotional security. Was this the way she wanted to live her life? Were the brief moments of happiness when she was with him worth the restless unhappiness that seemed to be a constant in her life now? It was a question she was afraid to answer.

  Monday . . . Tuesday . . . Wednesday there was no word from him. She was very tempted to lift the phone and ring him at work to tell him to get lost. She resisted the urge. She hadn’t the courage to finish it.

  She was pressing Stephanie’s uniform late on Thursday evening when the doorbell rang. Ellen nearly jumped out of her skin. Was it him? She raced downstairs and opened the door to find Chris standing there.

  ‘Hiya, tetchy.’ He grinned his wicked boyish grin. What could she do only laugh? When Chris put his mind to it, he could charm the birds out of the trees.

  ‘Bastard!’ she said as she stepped back to let him in.

  ‘You’d want to lighten up, baby,’ he teased as he bent and kissed her.

  ‘You’d want to cop on to yourself,’ she retorted as she hugged him tightly. Now that he was here she was happy again . . . at least for the time being. He followed her upstairs and flung his briefcase onto a chair. He pulled her down on to the settee. They made love quickly, passionately. Ellen clung to him when it was over.

  ‘Hold me, Chris,’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m holding you, love.’ He looked down at her surprised by the intensity of her tone.

  The doorbell shrilled.

  ‘God! Who’s that?’ Ellen nearly had a heart attack. She pulled on her jeans and jumper and hurried over to the window.

  ‘Jesus! It’s my mother and Brona Dwyer. Quick, Chris, you’ll have to go out the back way. Go out the side gate and into the lane.’

  ‘For fuck sake,’ Chris cursed as he threw the used condom into the fire and pulled on his clothes and shoes. He grabbed his jacket and followed Ellen down the stairs. She let him out the door that led to the back.

  ‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow,’ he whispered.

  ‘Yeah, go, Chris.’ Ellen was in a panic. She closed the door and hurried along the hallway. She paused to run her fingers through her hair. She smelt of sex. ‘Oh Lord,’ she muttered as she straightened her jumper and zipped up her jeans. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

  ‘Mam, Brona. Hello.’ She stepped back to let them in.

  ‘Hello, Ellen. We’re just on our way home from the guild meeting and I’ve got a puncture on the bike. I want to phone your father and get him to come and collect me,’ Sheila explained.

  ‘There’s the phone, Mam, go ahead.’ Ellen closed the door hastily. She didn’t want them to see Chris crossing the street to his car.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on for a cup of tea while you’re waiting.’

  ‘Thank you, dear.’ Sheila picked up the receiver and began to dial.

  ‘Come upstairs, Brona,’ Ellen said weakly. She led the way upstairs and brought Brona into the kitchen.

  ‘You’ve done a very nice job here, Ellen,’ Brona approved as she had a good look around.

  Ellen’s hands shook as she filled the kettle.

  ‘I’ll show you around.’

  ‘Could I use your convenience?’ Brona asked delicately. She was afflicted with weak kidneys.

  ‘Certainly. Just go up the winding stairs. It’s the door at the end.’ Ellen felt sick. Brona scuttled off.

  Ellen went in to the sitting-room to put away the ironing board. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest when she saw Chris’s briefcase in the armchair. She kicked it behind the sofa just before Sheila marched into the room.

  ‘Your father will be here in ten minutes. Where’s Brona?’

  ‘She’s gone to the loo.’ Ellen folded the ironing board. Her face was scarlet with guilt. But Sheila didn’t appear to notice.

  ‘Sit down, Mam, I’ll bring you in a cup of tea.’ Ellen carried the ironing board out to the kitchen and put it away. Her nerves were shattered. It had always been her greatest fear that Sheila and Mick would find out about Chris. Now that the long dark nights of winter were giving way to brighter, longer evenings, it was going to be much more difficult to conceal his visits. She lived on Main Street, people were always pas
sing up and down. Inevitably, someone was going to see him. She’d been lucky to get away with it for so long, she thought glumly as she cut and buttered slices of Madeira cake.

  Sheila and Brona chatted away and she must have made the right responses although, if anyone was to ask her what the conversation was about, she’d never have been able to tell them. It was with immense relief that she heard the doorbell ring, alerting them to Mick’s arrival.

  ‘Thanks very much for supper,’ Brona said warmly.

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Goodnight, Ellen. I’ve left my bike in the parish hall, I’ll get Mick to collect it in the morning. We’ll escort you home, Brona.’ Sheila pulled on her gloves and picked up her handbag.

  Ellen followed them downstairs and opened the door to her father. It had started to rain.

  ‘Brona, I’ll stick your bike in the boot and run you home,’ Mick instructed.

  ‘Not at all,’ Brona protested.

  Just go home, Ellen urged silently. She was petrified Chris might come back for his briefcase.

  They argued the toss for five minutes and Ellen thought she was going to scream before Brona finally agreed to the lift home. Wearily Ellen closed the door and climbed the stairs. She was numb. She kicked off her shoes and sank onto the settee. That had been the most nerve-racking hour of her life.

  She wondered would Chris call back. It was just gone eleven. She pulled the briefcase out from behind the settee. It was black leather. Expensive. Classy. Her fingers hovered over the gold locks. She clicked them. They flicked open.

  ‘Put it away,’ she told herself. Rooting through someone’s briefcase was like reading someone’s diary. It was an underhand thing to do. But what did he keep in it, she wondered. Curiosity consumed her. She was disgusted with herself but she couldn’t help it. She opened the lid.

  Chris kept a neat briefcase, she thought with approval. There were several files. A notepad with headed note-paper. A bundle of With Compliments slips clipped together, all in the main compartment.

  A red, blue and black biro nestled in a side pocket. A box of paper clips and a nail-clipper filled another one. A folded piece of paper shoved down into a small pocket in the lid caught her eye. She took it out. It was a receipt. Handwritten. Holden Jeweller’s. That was where Chris had bought her ring, she thought idly. It was the name on her ring box.

  Ellen glanced at the receipt. She sat up straight and read it again. Her heart somersaulted. She felt sick, humiliated, hurt beyond belief.

  ‘Oh Chris,’ she murmured as tears blurred her eyes. She’d been the biggest fool in the world.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It was time to face reality and stop deluding herself. Ellen knew it as she stared down at the receipt in her hand. Whoever had written it had nice writing, she thought numbly.

  Three items of jewellery. Eighteen-carat gold chain and matching earrings. And a birthstone ring. Sale price in brackets. The ring certainly wasn’t gold, she thought when she saw the price Chris had paid for it. The chain and earrings had cost ten times as much.

  Who had he bought them for? It could be anyone. Maybe he had another mistress on the side. She wouldn’t put it past him. She didn’t trust Chris anymore. He lied so easily. Truth and honesty meant nothing to him.

  Maybe he’d bought them for Suzy. It didn’t matter. All Ellen was worth was a cheap ring bought in a sale. He hadn’t valued her seven years ago. He certainly didn’t value her now. What more proof did she need? She was good old reliable Ellen who’d never turn him away no matter how badly he treated her, as long as he needed her.

  And he did need her. Ellen recognized that. There was some need she filled that had drawn him back to her, and it wasn’t just sex. There was a bond between them. A deep unspoken bond that had survived their parting.

  But it didn’t change the way things were between them. That would never change. He would take, take, take and she would give, give, give. It was the nature of their relationship and always had been. Chris was a selfish man. She wasn’t going to change that. He had to be the centre of everything. When she held him in her arms after love-making it was always his problems that they talked about. He’d ask her questions about herself now and again, but for the most part Chris was consumed by himself and what was going on in his life. If he was in the dumps, she had to coax him out of it. It didn’t work the other way around. He was so busy thinking about himself, he didn’t have time to think of her and that had always hurt.

  When he’d come back to her, she’d fooled herself that things would be different because she so badly wanted them to be. Nothing had changed. She was living on her nerves, waiting for him to call. When he was with her she worried that Stephanie would wake up and see him there. Or that someone would see him entering or leaving her house and tell Mick or Sheila. It hadn’t troubled her so much when the winter nights were dark, but the evenings were longer now, and in summer it would be bright until after ten. Glenree was a terrible place for gossip. There’d be plenty of it, if it was known she was having a male visitor once and maybe twice a week.

  Ellen worried too about Stephanie. Chris kept pressing to get to know her. But so far some instinct had made Ellen resist that pressure. Probably because she’d known in her heart that the relationship wasn’t a good one no matter how much she wanted it to be.

  This time around had been even worse than their first affair and one of the reasons was that Ellen felt guilty about Suzy.

  She sat by the dying embers of the fire, twisting his ring around her finger. She’d never acknowledged her guilt until now. Miriam’s words about Chris’s vows to Suzy had touched a nerve. Ellen knew that Suzy loved Chris too. He was a most lovable man. He was charming and funny and great company. When he put his mind to it and turned on the charm, there was no-one quite like him. And he was a sensual, sexy, passionate lover. Sex with Chris was very, very satisfying. No doubt Suzy had fallen in love with Chris for those very qualities. Maybe she was suffering the way Denise was because her husband was cheating on her. It made Ellen feel bad to think about it.

  She shouldn’t be feeling bad, and guilty, and scared of her relationship with Chris being exposed. She shouldn’t be living her life as if she was on the edge of a precipice. And she always would feel that way as long as she was with him, no matter how much she loved him. He couldn’t commit to her because he had no right to now. He was a married man. All she’d get was second best.

  She didn’t want that any more. She wanted her life to be on an even keel again. Even if it meant a life without Chris.

  There! She’d acknowledged the unthinkable. If she ended it this time, she’d never go back to him. And if she ended it, she wanted him out of her life for good. But could she make the break? Was she strong enough? Ellen shivered in the chilly night air. She glanced at her watch and saw with dismay that it was nearly one a.m.

  She went to bed, but lay tossing and turning. It was dawn before she finally fell asleep.

  She was like a wet rag at work the following day and, when she got home that evening, she sat dozing by the fire after dinner. She was glad it was Friday night. She could look forward to a lie-in on Saturday morning. She only went into work for an hour on Saturday evenings to count the day’s takings and balance the books.

  She was half-asleep when the phone rang.

  ‘Hi gorgeous. I left my briefcase in your house.’ Chris sounded cheery, she thought resentfully. But then why wouldn’t he? He had a wife at home and an undemanding mistress on the side. What more could a man want? He was having his cake and eating it.

  ‘I have it here. When are you going to collect it?’

  ‘I’ll try and get over Sunday evening. I’ll tell Suzy I’m going in to work. I’ll tell her the auditors are coming the next day.’

  Ellen said nothing. She didn’t want to be part of his lies any more. She didn’t want to be the reason for them. If he could lie so easily to his wife, God knows what lies he was telling her. It made her feel horri
ble. It was hard to have respect for him. A relationship without trust and respect was hard to sustain, no matter how deep the love.

  She thought of Doug for some reason. Doug was a real man. Not real in a physical sense. Real, morally and emotionally. He was dead straight. He had integrity. He didn’t play games with women and mess them about. He’d never do to her what Chris was doing to her. Compared to Doug, Chris was weak and shallow. Why did she love him so much? What was it that drew her to him? Would she ever stop loving him? Or would those feelings always haunt her?

  ‘Are you there?’ Chris interrupted her musings.

  ‘Yeah, I’m here,’ she said heavily.

  ‘Well you might talk to me seeing as I’ve taken the trouble to phone you.’ She could hear the sulkiness in the tone. Typical of Chris. He didn’t even ask her why she was in bad form.

  ‘I’m tired, Chris. I didn’t sleep very well last night.’ She wanted to tell him that it was over, finished between them. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She couldn’t take that final step.

  ‘Was it because of your mother arriving unexpectedly?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Well, you go and have an early night and I’ll be over on Sunday to revive you. And let’s hope we don’t have any unexpected visitors. Goodnight, love.’

  ‘Goodnight, Chris.’ Ellen felt very lonely. She hung up the receiver and started to cry.

  The next day, a travelling circus and funfair visited Glenree and set up in a field outside town. Stephanie pestered Ellen to go and finally she gave in. She didn’t like the circus. Clowns never made her laugh and she hated seeing animals caged. But she agreed to go to please her daughter. Denise said she’d bring her girls and go with them. She’d heard about a brilliant fortune-teller who travelled with the circus. Madam Valda’s reputation had preceded her and there were queues outside the little caravan where she read palms, the tarot and the crystal ball.