Divided Loyalties

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Right, I’ll go on up. Come on, you two,’ Carrie said to Davey and Olivia, but there was a slight edge to her tone.

  ‘How about if I go on back to your place and rustle up a bit of dinner for us? We can eat together before I head off home. I don’t know about you but I’m hungry, and Chloe’s due a bottle.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Carrie hedged. ‘I know you’re busy.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s no problem. Besides, haven’t we a funeral to attend?’

  Carrie relaxed and grinned. ‘Forgot about that. Root around the fridge and do pasta or whatever’s handy.’

  ‘No problem. See you later.’

  As she surveyed the contents of Carrie’s fridge, she knew why she’d offered to make dinner. Guilt, pure and simple. She knew Carrie carried most of the burden of their father’s care and part of her was very glad to let her do it, but she also knew it wasn’t fair. Unfortunately for Carrie and fortunately for her it was clear Noel preferred it that way and there was nothing she could do to change that.

  There is. You could be a bit nicer to him.

  But I don’t want to be nice. He made our childhoods miserable.

  Let go of the past. There’s no point in hanging on to it.

  He’s a judgemental bastard. Why should I be nice to him?

  What are you doing now? Judging. When you point a finger three fingers point back at you.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she muttered, irritated by her internal dialogue.

  ‘Baw ba, baw, ba.’ Chloe tugged at her fleece.

  ‘OK, darling,’ she soothed, glad to banish her guilt to the back of her mind. She heated up a bottle for her daughter, chopped bacon, onions and mushrooms and sautéed them, lined a pie dish with thinly sliced potato, covered it with the sautéed mixture, added a handful of grated cheese and kept layering the pie until the dish was full. It would be cooked by the time Carrie got home and she hoped her sister would enjoy it. She chopped and sliced peppers, aubergines and tomatoes, drizzled olive oil over them and added seasoning. They’d roast in the oven with the pie. It would be a tasty dinner, she thought with satisfaction as she cleaned her utensils.

  Chloe curled up on the soft, well-worn sofa under the window and drank her bottle with hungry appreciation. Dusk began to creep across the sky and the lights along the coast started to twinkle in the encroaching twilight. Shauna switched on the lamp and set the table as the aromatic smell of cooking filled the big homely kitchen.

  5

  Carrie yawned as she started the ignition. She was dead tired. There was homework to be done; she needed to collect her father’s prayer book and novenas, to bring in to him later. At least she didn’t have to do dinner. It had been kind of Shauna to offer to cook. She just wished that her younger sister and their father could resolve their differences and get over themselves so that everything wouldn’t be left to her. If Noel was going to be in hospital for a while, she was going to suggest alternating the hospital visits, so that she wouldn’t end up having to drive over to Drogheda twice a day.

  ‘Mom, we’ve to bury my crab,’ Olivia piped up from the back of the car.

  ‘Olivia, you’ve got homework to do when we get home. We can do it tomorrow. It’s getting dark.’

  ‘He’ll be stinking,’ Davey observed laconically.

  Her son was right. She could already get the whiff of smelly crab through his tissue shroud. Decomposition was setting in. It was probably best to get it over and done with.

  ‘Right, funeral, lickety-split, and then dinner and then homework with no arguments,’ she decided.

  ‘Can we watch—’

  ‘Not until homework’s done,’ Carrie warned, wishing they weren’t such TV addicts.

  ‘I’m starving,’ Davey grumbled.

  ‘Shauna’s got the dinner on. We won’t be long,’ she said wearily, hoping her sister had made enough for Dan as well. If not she’d ask him to get a chippie just this once.

  ‘Of course there’s enough,’ her sister assured her twenty minutes later, as she dished up the steaming, mouth-watering pie that she had just taken out of the oven. She placed the dish of roasted vegetables on the table and proceeded to fill their plates. They all tucked in with hearty appetites.

  ‘That was gorgeous, Shauna. Thanks,’ Carrie said gratefully, smiling as she watched Davey scrape his plate. He had already scraped the side of the pie dish, which he assured his aunt was always the best part because of the crispy bits that stuck to the dish.

  ‘Pity we couldn’t imbibe. I feel like getting tiddly,’ Shauna said regretfully as she cleared the dishes from the table.

  ‘You’ve to drive home and I’ve to drive back to the hospital, unfortunately.’ Carrie yawned.

  ‘Are you going back in?’ Shauna jerked round in amazement.

  ‘He wants his prayer books and novenas.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, you’ve already been in there once. What does he expect? Does he not realize you’ve got children to take care of?’ she burst out.

  ‘Aw, it doesn’t matter. I’ll do it tonight when Dan gets home. If he’s going to be in for a while we’ll sort something out about alternating our visiting. OK?’

  ‘OK,’ Shauna agreed crossly. ‘He won’t be kept in, anyway. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s just taking up a bed.’

  ‘Not in front of the kids, Shauna,’ Carrie said sharply.

  ‘Oh . . . sorry.’

  ‘Mom, I’m going to put my crab in a big matchbox, and cover him up with kitchen roll before he goes into his coffin.’ Olivia had clearly been giving the funeral arrangements some thought.

  ‘Let’s do it now, then,’ Carrie said crisply.

  ‘Will you help me?’ Olivia looked entreatingly at her older brother.

  ‘OK,’ he agreed kindly and Carrie felt a wave of affection for her son. Good old Davey. He really was Olivia’s champion when all was said and done.

  Poor Little Crabby Crab, as he was now known, was laid to rest under the damson trees at the end of the garden. A small bouquet of long past their best busy Lizzies lay ready to be placed on the freshly dug grave. A cross, made out of ice pop sticks, would mark Crabby Crab’s final resting place. Olivia led the mourners to their assigned positions and tenderly knelt down and placed the large matchbox in the grave.

  ‘May he rest in peace,’ Davey intoned solemnly.

  ‘Amen,’ echoed Carrie and Shauna, trying to keep their faces straight.

  ‘Will he go straight to heaven?’ Olivia pondered as she arranged her posy this way and that until she was satisfied.

  ‘Of course he will,’ Shauna assured her.

  ‘Granny’s there.’

  ‘Yes, she is.’

  ‘Will Grandpa go if he dies?’

  The sisters looked at each other.

  ‘Yes, he will, Olivia. Everyone always goes back to God, eventually. Because He made them and they’re part of Him,’ Carrie said matter-of-factly.

  Shauna chewed her lip and remained silent. Carrie knew it probably wasn’t what her sister wanted to hear, but it was a thought that brought comfort to her and if Shauna didn’t like it she could make up her own mind about the issue.

  The breeze soughed through the branches of the trees. A shower of crispy, russet leaves floated down over their heads and a new fingernail moon peeped between the clouds.

  Carrie shivered, suddenly chilly. ‘Let’s go in,’ she suggested. She didn’t want to be thinking of death and funerals. It brought back sad memories of their mother, and fears of deaths to come. It reminded her more than she cared to remember of just how deeply divided her sister, her brother and her father were.

  Was this the way it was always going to be? Continuous dissension and disunity? It was too depressing to think about and as she waved Shauna and Chloe off ten minutes later, she felt uncharacteristically angry with her sister that she wouldn’t try to make more of an effort to forget the past and get on with life.

  Greg was sprawled in front of the TV sipping a beer when
Shauna got home, his briefcase flung in the hall, his coat draped over the banisters. Her lips tightened. It didn’t take two seconds to hang up his coat under the stairs, and put away his briefcase. And why hadn’t he started to cook his dinner?

  ‘Da, da,’ Chloe said delightedly, tripping into the sitting room, arms out to be lifted up. He looked tired. His brown eyes were red-rimmed from long hours at the computer. He was handsome, though, Shauna reflected. His eyes, fringed with silky black lashes, were heavy-lidded and sexy. His mouth, firm and sensual, and his sallow skin gave him a faintly Mediterranean appearance. His mother, Joanna, maintained that the family had Moorish blood in their veins. She felt she had been a slave in Morocco in a past life. Greg’s mother was very much into past lives and mystical experiences, but not so great at keeping in touch with her family in the present one. Widowed, she travelled a lot and they rarely saw her.

  Moorish blood or not, Greg was a good-looking man, and women flocked to him at the parties they attended. His thick black hair could do with a cut, Shauna noted as her husband reached to lift up his daughter.

  ‘Hello, babs.’ Greg smiled at her but wasn’t too happy moments later as she grabbed his beer glass and splashed the pair of them. ‘Chloe!’ he snapped, plonking her onto the floor. She began to howl.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Greg.’ Shauna sighed in exasperation. ‘I’m going to get her ready for bed, she’s had a long day. There’s steak in the fridge if you want it. I’ve had dinner over at Carrie’s.’

  ‘That was nice for you,’ he said peevishly.

  ‘We went in to see Dad. If you want to put Chloe to bed, I’ll cook a steak for you,’ she offered.

  ‘I’ll get a Chinese.’ He scowled.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Shauna said tightly. If he was too lazy to stick a steak on the pan and a potato in the microwave, that was his tough luck. She’d given him the option of cooking or putting their daughter to bed and he’d taken neither, so he could bugger off.

  She decided she’d better give Chloe a bath as she had sand in her hair and in her ears. The toddler was not best pleased and screeched loudly as Shauna attempted to wash her hair. All she wanted to do was fall asleep. The fresh air and exercise at the beach had knocked her for six.

  Another tussle ensued as Shauna struggled to towel her hair, but eventually, exhausted, Chloe gave up wriggling and sat tiredly in the crook of her mother’s shoulder as she dried her silky golden curls. She was asleep before Shauna slipped her into her romper suit, and she couldn’t resist one last loving cuddle, inhaling the clean, talcy baby smell of her before she laid her in her cot.

  She tidied up the bathroom, and stood at the top of the stairs debating whether to go down and join her husband, have a bath herself, or spend an hour or two working on the wedding dress. The sooner she got it finished the better. It would free her up to make a start on her sorting and packing. Greg’s new company were shipping out their belongings to the Gulf so at least Chloe would have familiar toys and possessions to help her acclimatize in her new home. She wanted to start doing some Christmas shopping early, too. The more organized she was in that direction the better. She didn’t want to be in a big rush with everything a last-minute drama.

  ‘Come on, you can do it,’ she muttered, forcing herself to go into the small boxroom that she used as a workroom. The dress hung in all its glory, smothered in white tissue on the back of the door, and the jacket lay where she’d left it, draped on her sewing table. A box of crystal beading awaited and with a sigh Shauna made herself comfortable and began the time-consuming, delicate task of applying the beading along the back panel. She worked steadily and with care and was only vaguely conscious of a ring at the doorbell and Greg’s deep voice murmuring a few words. The smell of spare ribs and barbecue sauce being heated in the microwave wafted up the stairs. She supposed she could have made more of an effort to get Greg his dinner but it was unfortunate that she’d been so late getting home. Anyway, it wouldn’t kill him for once, she thought crossly as she snipped at a piece of thread. Life wasn’t all about him.

  Greg cursed as he burnt his finger on a rib. He’d left the bloody things in the microwave for too long and they were too hot to eat. His stomach rumbled. He was starving. Was it too much for a man to ask for his dinner to be ready when he came home from a hard day’s work? Shauna had been off gadding all day with Carrie; the least she could have done was have a meal prepared.

  It was all so different from when they’d first married. He sighed, remembering how Shauna couldn’t wait for him to come home from work and how she would feed him tasty dishes she’d cooked specially for him. Sometimes they hadn’t even paused to eat before making love the minute he was in the door. Why couldn’t she have been content with that for a few more years? Now it was all babies’ bottles and bath times and crotchety snapping at him and bloody Chinese takeouts that left you feeling hungry an hour later.

  At least in Abu Dhabi they’d have a maid to do all this stuff and he and Shauna could get back to having some sort of normal relationship again. He comforted himself with the thought.

  It was very quiet upstairs. He’d heard his wife going into her workroom. She was probably in a huff with him. He took another bite of his spare rib and flicked over to Sky Sports. He should make the most of the chance to watch a match in peace and quiet. How often did that happen? Greg took a slug of his beer and settled himself onto the sofa. He should mention to Shauna that Della had called him earlier in the day, wondering if they were having a going-away party. That was something they should organize, for sure. It would be a hell of a night. The thought of it cheered him up greatly. If there was one thing he really enjoyed it was a good boozy bash, especially when he was the guest of honour.

  ‘Well, Della’s right, Shauna,’ Greg said exasperatedly the following evening, as he uncorked a bottle of red wine for them. ‘We’ll have to have a going-away party. You didn’t think we were going to fly off and not say goodbye to people, did you?’

  ‘Of course not, Greg, but we’ve to get over Christmas first. I suppose I was just thinking of going out for a couple of drinks, maybe. I wasn’t planning a going-away party as such,’ Shauna retorted as she served him up a plate of steaming carbonara.

  ‘We’ll get caterers in and do it properly,’ he suggested.

  ‘You want to have it here, at home?’ Shauna couldn’t hide her dismay.

  ‘Yeah, why not?’ Greg looked surprised, a forkful of pasta suspended halfway to his mouth.

  ‘What about Chloe, if she wakes up?’

  ‘Put her to sleep again,’ he said exasperatedly.

  ‘Well, that won’t be much fun for me,’ Shauna declared. ‘And there’ll be all the clearing up afterwards.’

  ‘Come on, lighten up, Shauna. We’ll be saying goodbye to our friends and family, so let’s enjoy it. We used to do great parties.’ He grinned at her, and her heart softened. Greg was such a party animal. He had a great capacity for enjoying himself and he was a terrific host. It was one of the things that had drawn her to him. His ability to take pleasure in things was infectious; he had been a breath of fresh air to her . . . so different from her father.

  ‘You’re right, hon. Let’s have a humdinger of a party.’ She leaned across and gave him a kiss. Greg was right. She needed to lighten up. The last few days had been far too intense and serious and gloomy and doomy.

  Carrie had phoned her earlier that morning to say that their father was being discharged from hospital with a clean bill of health, much to his disgust, she’d added wryly.

  I could have told you that, she was tempted to say, but she refrained, knowing that it wouldn’t be appreciated.

  So that was one problem sorted. She’d spent a good three hours on the wedding jacket and the end was in sight for her last commission at home. She planned to drum up business abroad by networking with all the women’s groups that were part and parcel of expat life. Shauna was glad she’d had the experience of living in the Gulf before. She knew what to ex
pect. It wouldn’t be such a culture shock this time.

  She might as well enjoy the next few weeks at home and look forward to their going-away party and then, perhaps, when they were settled in the Emirates, she’d bring up the subject of getting pregnant again. Her timing hadn’t been great, she conceded. They had enough on their plates emigrating, without her being in the throes of early pregnancy. No wonder Greg hadn’t been too enthusiastic. In another six months’ time they would be well settled and it would be a much better time to consider another baby.

  Feeling a lot happier, Shauna took a sip of her wine and listened to Greg as he began planning their party.

  6

  ‘Surprise surprise! We’re on the way home after doing some Christmas shopping in the big smoke and we thought we’d call by and say hello.’ Della stood grinning on Shauna’s doorstep a few weeks later. Her three-year-old daughter, Kathryn, kicked one of the big terracotta pots of polyanthus and pansies that stood beside the porch door.

  ‘Don’t want to go in there.’ She scowled.

  ‘Howaya, Shauna,’ Eddie muttered, standing behind his wife.

  Oh, bloody hell, cursed Shauna silently as she gave a frozen smile and stood aside to let her in-laws into the hall.

  ‘Hate this house,’ Kathryn announced loudly as she followed her parents.

  ‘Oh, darling, don’t be naughty,’ Della reproached. ‘Come in and say hello to your baby cousin.’

  ‘Don’t want to.’ Kathryn stuck out her tongue. She raced into the lounge and made a beeline for Chloe’s toys.

  ‘So how’s life? Any chance of a cup of tea? I’m gasping.’ Della plonked herself into an armchair and patted her bump. ‘Pregnancy and Christmas shopping are definitely not compatible,’ she moaned. Eddie sprawled on the sofa and began flicking through the TV stations, ignoring the fact that Chloe had been watching a Disney video. The cheek of him, Shauna thought indignantly as Chloe looked at Shauna, unsure about these strangers invading her little world, and hurried across the room to hide behind her.

  ‘Hasn’t she got so big! Come here, darling, and give Auntie Della a big kiss,’ Della invited. Chloe clung stubbornly to Shauna’s leg.