Promises, Promises

by Patricia Scanlan

  It was ages since they’d split. After she got her phone number changed, he hadn’t called her again. He hadn’t even called her at work. He’d got the message. Whenever she missed him, she made herself go through her litany of negatives about him. She never thought about the good times. It was too difficult. It was much easier to think of the times he’d let her down and lied to her.

  She didn’t hate him. She’d never hate Chris. She cared so much about him that she hadn’t told Miriam about the ring, or the way he’d wanted her to sleep with him in Suzy’s house. She didn’t want to diminish him further in her sister-in-law’s eyes. Those hurts she would keep to herself. There would never be anyone else like him for her. Her heart ached over him. Her love for him had been a precious thing but, as time passed and she stepped back and looked at it all with eyes that weren’t clouded with passion and emotion, Ellen knew she had made the right choice. Slowly, her life was getting back on an even keel. That was the way she wanted it. Even if she was to be on her own for the rest of her days.

  The nights were the worst. She couldn’t escape her thoughts at night so she kept herself busy during the day, and then spent back-breaking hours in her garden. It was a great way of exhausting herself and she was certainly keeping her weight down.

  Every cloud has a silver lining, she thought wryly, as she too fell asleep.

  ‘Lazybones!’ Ellen woke to see Denise grinning down at her.

  She glanced at her watch and saw that it was nearly four. She’d slept a solid hour. Miriam stirred.

  ‘That was lovely,’ she murmured, reluctant to open her eyes.

  ‘I rang the front doorbell and, when I didn’t get an answer, I assumed you were out here. I came in the side gate and saw two sleeping beauties. It’s so peaceful. Where are the kids?’

  ‘Ben took them to the beach.’

  ‘My sister took my two for the weekend. Jimmy’s gone to Galway with the femme fatale. I hope they get a dose of the galloping trots,’ Denise said bitterly. She’d told Miriam about Esther Dowling so she didn’t mind saying that in front of her.

  ‘He’s a cool customer.’ Ellen sat up and pushed her glasses on top of her head.

  ‘He’s a bastard! He lavishes attention on her. He never took me away for weekends, to Galway or anywhere else. And do you know what he had the nerve to ask me the other day?’

  ‘What?’ Ellen asked gently. She understood exactly what her friend was going through.

  ‘He asked me if I’d mended the hole in his jeans.’

  ‘By God, I’d give him his answer,’ Miriam expostulated. ‘And I’d tell him where to put his jeans. Let Butter-Wouldn’t-Melt-In-Her-Mouth Dowling sew his jeans for him. I hope she does his washing and ironing for him too.’

  ‘You must be joking!’ Denise scoffed. ‘I wish I had money of my own to be free of him.’

  ‘Why don’t you stay and have a bite to eat with us?’ Ellen invited. ‘Ben’s taking the kids to a cafe for sausage and chips. Miriam and I were going to have chicken and mushroom vol au vents and salad.’

  ‘Sounds gorgeous.’ Denise brightened up. ‘Have you enough?’

  ‘I’ve loads. Come on, stay.’

  ‘OK.’ Denise didn’t need to be asked twice. ‘I’ve a bottle of wine over in the house. I’ll get it.’

  ‘Great stuff.’ Ellen slipped into her towelling robe and went into the kitchen to prepare the meal. Miriam followed her and started to chop the mushrooms. Denise came back with the wine and poured three glasses. The three of them sipped and gossiped and cooked com-panionably.

  They set the table outside and carried out their food and wine and enjoyed a delightful meal. Later, Miriam went in and brought out a half-dozen home-made chocolate eclairs. ‘I cooked these for Mrs Munroe’s cake sale, but when I knew I was coming over to Ellen’s for tea, I decided to keep them. I’ll be in the bad books, for sure.’

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Miriam. You’re too soft. Mam takes advantage,’ Ellen rebuked.

  ‘These are scrumptious!’ Denise ate one with relish. ‘I wonder who’s going to take over the coffee shop now that the two old dears have retired. Their chocolate eclairs were nothing like these.’

  ‘I’ll take it over and go into business,’ Miriam joked.

  ‘Yeah and Ellen could do chicken and mushroom vol au vents. And I could do my famous speciality, leek and potato soup.’ Denise giggled. She was slightly tipsy. She’d gone down to the Glenree Arms and bought another bottle of wine before they sat down to tea.

  ‘I’d say it would be a little goldmine, in the right hands,’ Miriam said thoughtfully. ‘The Boyles were too old to run it. It’s a bit dilapidated. If it was spruced up it could do very well. It’s your dad’s building, isn’t it, Ellen? Will he lease it out again as a coffee shop?’

  ‘I don’t really know,’ Ellen said slowly. ‘I don’t know what he plans to do with it.’ She turned to the girls. Her eyes were bright with excitement. ‘But I know what we could do with it.’

  ‘We?’ Miriam echoed.

  ‘We could turn it into a deli-cum-coffee shop. We could redecorate. Cook home-cooked foods. I mean look at your eclairs, Miriam. You’re terrific at baking. I can’t bake. But we can all cook. We could do home-made soups. Salads. Club sandwiches. Sausage rolls. Vol au vents. Food people eat for lunch. It wouldn’t be like a restaurant. People could take food away. We could sell cakes and stuff, and make up sandwiches on the spot. The three of us could really make that place hum.

  ‘Denise.’ She gripped her friend by the arm. ‘Remember the fortune-teller told you about going into business and that it would be successful? Maybe this is it!’

  ‘Maybe you’re right! Do you think your dad would be on for it?’ Denise stopped giggling and sat up straight.

  ‘Dad’s great like that,’ Ellen said confidently. ‘I run the business side of the shop for him. He knows I’d be well capable. What do you think, Miriam? Do you want to be a businesswoman?’

  ‘What about the kids?’ Miriam asked.

  ‘Oh! Hadn’t thought of that.’ Ellen was stumped for a second. Then she said brightly, ‘They could all come here after school. We could break a door in from next door to give us easy access. We could give them their dinner when they got home from school. They could have their homework done before they go home. And if it was fine they could play out the back or on the green. I don’t think it would be a problem. Lunchtime would be our busy time and they’d still be at school then. In the summer, well, Denise, if you took care of Miriam’s three and mine and had a share of the takings you’d be financially independent. We could try it out anyway,’ she entreated.

  ‘Yeah, let’s.’ Denise was wildly enthusiastic.

  ‘We’re going to be career women,’ Miriam said delightedly.

  ‘And why not?’ Ellen picked up her glass. ‘No better women to do it. You’ll be able to tell Jimmy to get stuffed, Denise. Miriam, you’ll be able to make money out of something you’re really good at, cooking and baking. And you’ll be able to tell Ma, no more freebies. She’ll have to buy your cakes from now on.’

  Miriam laughed at the idea of it.

  ‘I mean it,’ Ellen said firmly.

  ‘And what will you be able to do?’ Denise grinned.

  ‘I’ll be able to buy my daughter a pony,’ Ellen said quietly. ‘Now wouldn’t that be something?’

  Miriam smiled at her and Ellen smiled back. She knew Stephanie would get her pony.

  They drank more wine and spent the evening making plans until a clamour of childish voices broke the peace. Ben and the children were home.

  ‘That’s it. Peace and quiet over. I’ll go home and take this lot out of your hair,’ Miriam declared.

  ‘Did you have a nice time?’ Ellen asked Stephanie when everyone had left and they had the place to themselves again.

  ‘I’d a great time, Mammy. We all went swimming and then Uncle Ben helped us make a huge sandcastle with a moat. We had to bring trillions of buckets of water to fill
it,’ Stephanie informed her.

  Ellen smiled as she looked at her daughter’s eager little face with its smattering of freckles over a sunburnt nose.

  ‘Did you have your tea out here?’

  ‘I did, with Denise and Auntie Miriam.’

  ‘Was it nice?’

  ‘It was lovely.’

  ‘I’m hungry,’ Stephanie declared.

  Ellen laughed. ‘Didn’t Uncle Ben bring you somewhere for chips?’

  ‘That was ages ago.’

  ‘How about if you go up and have your bath and get into your jammies and then the two of us will have supper on the patio?’ Ellen suggested.

  ‘Oh yes. Oh brill, Mam!’ Stephanie agreed delightedly. This was certainly out of the ordinary.

  ‘OK. I’ll run your bath. Then I’ll come down here and wash the dishes and you can have either scrambled eggs, cheese and tomato on toast, or sausage and beans. And of course . . . hot chocolate.’

  ‘I think I’ll have cheese and tomato on toast,’ Stephanie decided.

  ‘Right. Would you like some bubble bath?’

  ‘Yes please.’ Stephanie danced ahead of her into the house, full of excitement. It was long past her bedtime and she was having a bubble bath, and supper on the patio. This was too good to be true.

  She sang away to herself as she undressed and Ellen enjoyed her antics. She was great company, she thought, as she poured a good dollop of bath foam into the bath.

  ‘You know. I really really like living here. Do you, Mammy?’ Stephanie said as she eased herself into the frothy bubbles.

  ‘I do, love.’

  ‘I like Nannie’s house. But I like having our own house. You know Julie Ann is very jealous of my bedroom?’ she said earnestly, smoothing bubbles all over her.

  ‘Is she?’ Ellen murmured, amused.

  ‘Yes, she is.’ Stephanie nodded. ‘No-one else in the whole school has a bedroom in the attic that’s like the nursery in Mary Poppins.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘And we’ve more flowers in our garden,’ Stephanie said airily as she blew some bubbles onto her palm. ‘And I bet she’s never had her supper outside on a patio.’

  ‘I bet not,’ Ellen agreed. ‘I’ll go down and start making it.’

  ‘Loads of hot chocolate?’ Stephanie entreated. She looked so adorable with suds on her nose that Ellen had to give her a kiss.

  ‘Loads of hot chocolate,’ she promised.

  She felt very content as she tidied up. It had been a lovely day. Having supper with Stephanie on the patio would be the perfect way to end it.

  She was so lucky to have Stephanie, she thought gratefully. She was worth all the pain and misery she’d endured during her times with Chris.

  Ellen gazed out at her garden. The sun was sinking, and the light was soft. The perfume from the flowers was exquisite. It would never have worked with Chris, she admitted. She would never have had the peace of mind she had now. It had been painful ending it. But listening to Stephanie’s childish singing floating downstairs, she knew she’d made the right decision. It would have only complicated things for Stephanie if they’d stayed together. Her daughter was a happy little girl. Secure, self-confident. Who knew what damage a relationship with Chris might have caused? What if Ellen had got pregnant again? That had always been a subconscious worry too. She did miss Chris, very much. But her life was on an even keel again.

  It was for the best, Ellen reflected as she grated cheese and sliced tomatoes for her daughter’s supper.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‘Well Dad? What do you think?’

  Mick rubbed his jaw reflectively. ‘I think it’s a bloomin’ good notion, Ellen. There’s a new housing estate being built between here and Swords. And Green Vale is just down the road. I got more than fifty new customers from that estate when it opened. There’s that new computer factory half a mile away. You’ll get customers coming for lunch and sandwiches. And of course you’ll always have the ten o’clock Mass crowd. That’s what kept the Boyles going. Glenree is expanding all the time. Expansion is good for any business. And you say Miriam and Denise are all on for it?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Ellen grinned. ‘Miriam’s a terrific pastry cook, she might as well make some money out of it. Denise is going to look after all the kids and make home-made soups as well. Now I can’t bake, my scones turn out like the Giant’s Causeway. But I can cook, make sandwiches, make up salads for the salad bar. And I can do the books. I’d do the books for the shop, of course, as well. But you’d need someone new to take the orders and payments. How would you feel about that?’

  ‘We’re a good team, Ellen. I’d miss you in the shop. But if I was stuck, sure you’d only be next door.’ Mick lit his pipe. ‘I’d be very proud to know that my daughter was in business beside me.’

  ‘Oh Dad. Thanks.’ She flung her arms around him. Mick laughed. ‘I suppose you’re going to be knocking down walls and building arches and so on and so forth?’

  ‘Oh yeah, we’re going to redo it completely. I spent all last night planning it out in my head.’

  ‘You’d better book Doug then. Let me know how much money you’ll need.’

  ‘Oh no, Dad. That wouldn’t be fair. I can’t come to you for money. Not after all you did for me with the house.’ Ellen was adamant.

  ‘Now stop that, Ellen,’ Mick said gruffly.

  ‘No, I’ll get a loan from the bank.’

  ‘And what would you be paying them fellows back interest for?’ Mick retorted.

  ‘No, Dad. I won’t do it, otherwise.’

  ‘Well how about if I don’t charge you any rent until you’re trading in profit? Have the place for a year, rent-free.’

  ‘Ah, Dad!’ Ellen was exasperated. He was far too good-natured.

  ‘That’s my last offer, otherwise I’ll . . . I’ll asked Bonnie Daly if she’d like to run it as a craft shop.’

  ‘What!’

  Mick grinned. ‘Did I not tell you? You know the way she’s great pals with the Boyles. Well, when they told her they were retiring, Bonnie seemingly had this brainwave that she and the daughter could open up a craft shop for the tourists. If we get two dozen tourists a year in these parts we’re lucky.’ He chuckled. ‘She came in to me the other day and told me she was interested in leasing the premises.’

  ‘The nerve of her.’ Ellen was gobsmacked at Bonnie’s cheek. ‘What did you say to her?’

  ‘I told her I’d other plans for it. Kept her guessing. Could you imagine your mother’s face if I went home and told her that I’d leased it to Bonnie Daly? I’d be in the doghouse for the rest of my life.’

  ‘And had you plans for it?’ Ellen asked. She hadn’t even considered that Mick might want to do something with the premises, she’d been too busy thinking of her grand scheme.

  ‘I was going to keep it as a coffee shop. Get someone in to run it. But it doesn’t sound half as exciting as a deli/sandwich bar. We might as well be living in New York.’ Mick chortled. ‘Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Bonnie!’

  Ellen laughed. Her father had a wicked sense of humour. She’d always enjoyed it.

  ‘Are you going to see Terry Carson about the loan?’ Mick cocked an eye at her.

  ‘Well he’s the only bank manager I know,’ Ellen said ruefully.

  ‘See how you get on with him. But first of all, yourself and myself will sit down this evening and work out a business plan. These kind of things always impress bank managers. And you’ll have all the answers for him when he asks about business turnover and the rest of it. Peter Doherty went to him for a loan the other day to buy a new tractor and the guff he had to listen to.’ Mick shook his head in disgust. ‘That Terry Carson thinks he’s somebody.’

  ‘Well I’ll go and see him anyway,’ Ellen said briskly. ‘After I’ve talked to the girls.’

  A few days later, Ellen walked into the bank for her appointment with the bank manager. Esther Dowling smiled sweetly at her as she tapped away at her typewriter.

>   ‘Ellen, how are you? I’m afraid Mr Carson is slightly behind schedule, he’s in a meeting at the moment. He’ll see you as soon as he can.’

  Ellen was tempted to ask her if she’d enjoyed her dirty weekend away in Galway with Jimmy McMahon. But who was she to cast the first stone, she thought wryly.

  She sat for more than half an hour in that stuffy little room with the sun beaming down on her and began to feel as wilted as the fern on the coffee table beside her. Esther was a busy little bee, taking phone calls, typing letters. At one stage she brought two cups of coffee into the manager’s office.

  Ellen fumed silently. She’d been given an appointment for eleven a.m. It was now almost eleven-forty. Her time was as precious as his, she thought resentfully.

  Ten minutes later the door opened. Terry Carson shook hands with Sean Williams, the owner of the Glenree Arms. ‘No problem at all, Sean. I’ll have that for you tomorrow,’ Terry said expansively.

  ‘Bring Liz in for a meal at the weekend, on the house of course,’ Sean invited.

  ‘I’ll do that. Take care now.’ Terry’s gaze swept over Ellen as Sean left the room. He glanced at his watch.

  ‘Esther, come inside for a moment,’ he ordered his secretary.

  ‘Certainly, Mr Carson.’ Esther fluttered around getting her notebook and pen.

  Ten minutes later, Esther reappeared. ‘Mr Carson will see you now,’ she informed Ellen. Her reverent tone suggested that it was akin to being received by the Almighty. Ellen was not impressed. She was furious. She’d been waiting almost an hour. Stay calm, she told herself. After all, she had come for a loan.