‘Were they organic sausages?’ Carrie asked dryly.
‘My ass,’ drawled Shauna.
‘Well at least you’ll have organic potatoes and veg for Christmas, so that should suit Madam. I’ll tell Dan to get you the cream of the crop.’
‘Thanks. I love Dan’s vegetables.’ Shauna yawned. ‘I’m knackered. I opened a bottle of wine when the kids went to bed and I’ve had three glasses. I don’t care if it’s rude. I think I’ll go to bed.’
‘You go, girl,’ Carrie encouraged her. ‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow. What time are they going at?’
‘The sooner the better, but knowing them it will be evening time.’
‘I’d suggest you come up to us for lunch, but knowing Della and Eddie, they’d say they were coming too,’ Carrie said.
‘We won’t risk it. Thanks for the offer, though. ’Night, Carrie. I’m going to leg it up to bed before they get home. Greg can entertain his family on his own tonight.’
‘Sleep well,’ Carrie told her and hung up.
‘I will.’ Shauna yawned again as she switched off the TV and turned off two of the lamps. She left one on so that the others would have some light and slipped upstairs to check on the toddlers. Kathryn lay sprawled across the double bed in the guest room, thumb in her mouth. Shauna’s heart softened as she looked at the sleeping child. She couldn’t help her parents; in fact she was very unfortunate in the pair she had, she thought caustically as she gently pulled the duvet over her niece. Fortunately, she’d been worn out after her long day and had gone asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, so there had been no more whining for ‘Mommy’.
Shauna went into her bedroom and rooted out one of Greg’s T-shirts for Della. She was so big now one of Shauna’s nightdresses wouldn’t fit her. She left it on the dressing table along with some bath towels. More washing that she didn’t need, she thought crossly. She’d hardly get away with leaving the same sheets on the bed for Christmas.
Chloe was fast asleep, her hand under her cheek, looking adorable, and it took all her willpower not to sweep her up in her arms and kiss and cuddle her. A wave of longing swept through her. She’d love another baby. Chloe and Kathryn had bonded over their sausages and played happily for an hour before she’d put them to bed. Chloe loved playing with other children. She needed company, she needed a sibling. Shauna sighed. Perhaps this time next year she’d be pregnant, she thought optimistically as she closed the door and slipped into the sanctuary of her own room. It was a horrible night out, the weather had broken and she was glad to lie in bed snug and cosy, hoping that she’d be asleep before Greg and the Freeloaders got home.
Noel made himself a cup of cocoa, took a goldgrain biscuit from the packet and sat down at his kitchen table. He allowed himself one biscuit every night. It was his little treat. His knee ached and he rubbed it as he sipped his hot drink. He was starting to show his age, he thought, a little depressed. Sixty-five sounded so much older than sixty. He didn’t like being old. He hated becoming dependent on people. He was finding his parish work taxing but didn’t want to say it to poor Father Doyle, who, although a few years younger than himself, was crippled with arthritis.
It was bad enough that Theresa Clarke had taken over as chair of the parish committee. Noel hadn’t liked giving up the prestigious position, but he couldn’t be seen to be ungracious. He’d had a couple of stints as chairman over the years. He wasn’t even treasurer, either, which carried some power and responsibility. No, he was reduced to being the secretary, taking orders from Madam Theresa, and she was relishing her power. It was all very upsetting. He wasn’t looking forward to Christmas either. Since Anna had died, life hadn’t been the same. He was terribly lonely without his wife. The house was empty, a shell since she’d gone. Bobby had taken off to London to live a degenerate life, and Noel could only hand him up to the good Lord and hope that he would come to his senses and change his ways. His son was coming home for a few days at Christmas and he didn’t know whether he was glad or sorry. He didn’t like to think of Theresa and her ilk whispering and gossiping about his family’s business. If only Bobby would make the effort to tone it down. He was so flamboyant in his clothes and manner, almost inviting people to look at him and see how different he was.
And then there was Shauna, always ready to argue the toss. They were going to her house for Christmas this year. He would have preferred to go to Carrie’s. He felt more comfortable there and Davey was a grand little fellow. A real little man, just like his father. He smiled, thinking of his grandson. He wanted to teach him the Stations of the Cross this year. Carrie was a little lax in that regard, but he’d say nothing. He’d just bring him round the church himself and explain each station.
Twiskers, his little black and white cat, rubbed her head lovingly against his leg. Noel bent down and lifted her onto his lap. She’d originally been called Whiskers as a kitten but Olivia hadn’t been able to pronounce it and her best effort had been ‘Twiskers’. It had stuck.
He supposed he should make out a list for his Christmas shopping. He wanted to get some presents for a few of his committee members. Not Theresa, or Vera Donoghue; he didn’t like them. But Mrs O’Neill, his next-door neighbour, and Harriet Kelly were nice women and kind with it. He’d need gifts for Shauna and Bobby as well as Carrie, and presents for the grandchildren. He’d do out a list for Carrie and she could look after it. He’d start it now, and write some Christmas cards. That would keep him occupied for an hour or so and then he’d say his rosary and go to bed.
Christmas was a busy time in the parish. He’d been organizing the setting up of the crib and the delivery of the Christmas Mass notices. He stood up to get a pen and paper from the mantelpiece and winced as a dart of pain shot through his knee. He hoped it was only arthritis and nothing more sinister. He must check his medical encyclopedia when he had finished his chores, he decided. At his age anything was to be expected and Shauna might not be so dismissive of his health problems if it was discovered that he had something serious! In fact, she might even stay in the country and not take his grandchild away to foreign parts that were dangerous to live in, exposing her to cultures and beliefs that were far from what her mother was reared to.
He doubted that Shauna and Greg would be practising their religion and that could only be detrimental to little Chloe. It was bad enough calling the child Chloe. What was wrong with a good Irish name, or, even more apt, a lovely saint’s name like Anne, or Bridget?
With a heavy heart, Noel sat back down to his task, Twiskers at his feet purring contentedly.
Bobby stroked the pale lavender cashmere scarf that he’d bought for Shauna. He hoped that she’d like it. He thought it was gorgeous. He’d bought a pale apple green one for Carrie. He laid them on the edge of the sofa, pleased with his purchases. He was tired. He’d gone Christmas shopping after work and it had been crazy. Harrods was a mass of heaving, stressed humanity, and his feet and arms ached from all the walking and bag-carrying. By the time he’d struggled up the steps of Swiss Cottage Tube station he was fit for nothing. It was a pity it was so late. He could have gone for a swim in the Swiss Cottage Marriott and then gone for a pint in the Washington. That would have revived him.
He took a sip of chilled Chardonnay and nibbled a Tuc cracker smeared with duck liver pâté and sat down in front of the electric fire that, in the dim lamplight of his flat, looked almost real. He missed a real fire, with the smell of logs and peat briquettes burning and crackling, but at least his fire was welcoming to look at. His mate, Bazzer, had to make do with an antique gas monstrosity and his flat was a real kip. Bobby was lucky with his gaff on Fellows Road. His landlord had let him paint it in a creamy yellow throughout. His bedroom, though small, was clean and at least separate from his living room, unlike Bazzer’s large but draughty bedsit.
Bobby liked living so close to Hampstead. He liked its chic cosmopolitan buzz and the fact that he was only a walk away from the green open spaces of Primrose Hill, where he liked
to sit and look down over London and write the poetry that was so dear to his heart. He worked as a receptionist in the Willows, a small, compact hotel that catered to businessmen and women, just off Hampstead Heath. It was hard work, and the hours were often unsociable to say the least, but he liked the job, his breezy, outgoing personality well suited to dealing with the public.
After the stresses of living with Noel, struggling not to suppress who and what he was, life in London was in complete contrast to the life he’d lived at home. He wasn’t judged. He wasn’t under pressure to conform to anyone’s idea of who or what he should be. He was free to be himself. He had a great circle of friends, and although he missed his sisters and their children, and grieved for his mother, he could say in all honesty that he was happier than he had ever been in his life.
It would be nice to see the girls again for Christmas and he could endure Noel and his pious exhortations in the knowledge that it was only for a few days and his life in London was there waiting for him.
‘I don’t know, Dan, maybe I should do Christmas again this year. Shauna will have enough on her hands with that shower.’ Carrie lay snuggled against her husband’s shoulder sipping a mug of hot chocolate. A sudden squall had blown up and sheets of sleety rain battered the windows. The wind keened around the house like a howling banshee wailing her grief and anger to the world. The sound of the pounding waves surging and ebbing along the shore added their own symphony to the night. Carrie was glad that Dan was home from work and that the children were in bed and they had these precious moments to themselves. The fire crackled in the hearth, the flames casting dancing shadows around the walls. An Enya CD played soft music. Two big cream candles were burning on the coffee table and she was enjoying their relaxing evening together. Well, it had been relaxing until Shauna had phoned with her news.
‘I just can’t believe the cheek of Della. She’s so pushy and sly. There was no way Shauna could say no to her. Greg can be very casual the way he treats her sometimes.’ Carrie was upset for her sister.
‘Whatever you want to do, Carrie, is fine with me. I don’t mind,’ Dan said easily. ‘We can have Christmas here and I’ll cook.’
‘She said she wanted us to come. That she didn’t want to be left alone with them,’ Carrie said doubtfully.
‘She has a point,’ her husband observed as he took a long, satisfying draught of his beer.
‘It’s a bummer. They really are the meanest people I’ve ever met. They take advantage of Greg and Shauna like nobody’s business. I bet they’ll be hotfooting it out to the Gulf before they even have time to settle in.’
‘You can take that as a given.’ He smiled down at her.
‘You know what I suggested?’ Carrie grinned.
‘What?’
‘I suggested she put Della sitting beside Dad for dinner.’
‘And put Bobby sitting beside Eddie,’ Dan said mischievously.
Carrie burst out laughing. Eddie was always wary of Bobby, much to her brother’s amusement.
‘Do they not have gays in his part of the country? Is he afraid I’ll jump on him? He’d be so lucky,’ Bobby had whispered to Carrie at one of Shauna’s parties, making her snort with laughter. Sometimes she wondered how her brother could stay so unruffled by the continual underlying homophobia displayed by the likes of Eddie and their father that was part and parcel of his life. She really admired his guts and courage in staying true to himself. She was longing to see him for Christmas.
‘We should go. We’ll get Shauna pissed and she’ll be fine,’ Dan murmured, interrupting her musings and leaning down to kiss her. Carrie forgot the Keegans, Bobby, Christmas, and everything else, as she wrapped her arms round Dan and kissed him back.
8
Shauna stretched and glanced at the clock and couldn’t believe that it was eight fifteen and Chloe was still asleep. This was as close to a miracle as she could get. Beside her, Greg was totally conked out.
Surprisingly, she felt refreshed. She couldn’t remember going asleep. She remembered lying, tense and resentful, hearing Greg, Eddie and Della clattering dishes around the kitchen without making any effort to keep the noise down. If they woke Chloe up they could look after her, she’d thought, feeling the anger surge through her with every rattle of cup and plate and saucer. She could hear Della giggling and Eddie’s and Greg’s deeper voices bantering back and forth.
She must have drifted off to sleep, for she hadn’t heard Greg coming to bed, and as the sunlight slanted in through a gap in the curtains she felt a lot less pressurized. A decent night’s sleep was a lifesaver. The conversation with Carrie had helped enormously. She promised herself that she wasn’t going to get stressed out for Christmas. There was no point. Even before Della had invited herself and her family, Shauna had been fretting about having her father and Bobby together. She was afraid she’d let fly if Noel started getting at her brother. Now she had Della to get on her nerves as well. They’d all better pray that she didn’t have PMT. That would be nicely explosive. She grinned and stretched. Carrie and Dan and Bobby would be there. They’d get her through it, and she wanted her sister especially to have a decent Christmas. She deserved it.
Greg stirred beside her. ‘Morning,’ she said brightly, determined to hang on to her good mood.
‘What’s good about it?’ he groaned.
‘Sun’s shining, weather’s cleared up. Chloe’s still asleep and I don’t have a hangover and you’re cooking brekkie,’ she said smugly.
‘Not before I do this.’ Greg pressed himself against her and cupped her breasts in his hands.
‘What about Della and Eddie?’ she murmured, enjoying the dart of desire that shot through her as she felt him getting aroused against her.
‘What about them?’ Greg murmured before turning her over to him and kissing her hotly. Shauna gave herself up to the pleasure of the moment, hoping against hope that Chloe wouldn’t wake up until they were finished. They’d been interrupted so many times since she’d been born that Greg had said irritably one night that she might as well save her money on the Pill, since she didn’t need it. They had a method of contraception all their own called Chloe.
The gods were kind. They even had time for a cuddle afterwards before Shauna heard her daughter call hopefully across the landing, ‘Mama? Mama?’
‘Perfect timing,’ she said with satisfaction.
Greg leaned up on one arm and looked down at her. ‘You’re in a very good humour this morning,’ he said suspiciously.
‘Why not?’ she said lightly.
‘I didn’t think you were too happy last night. You gave me a few glares.’
‘I just wish Della and Eddie would give me a little notice when they’re staying. I could have organized a babysitter and gone out with you,’ she said mildly. She wasn’t going to start a row about her in-laws. Soon enough they’d be far away from them and they’d no longer be a source of friction between her and her husband.
‘Fair point, I suppose,’ Greg conceded. ‘What about them coming for Christmas?’
She saw the wary look in his eyes and knew he was expecting an earbashing. She had him off balance. Maybe she was a bit off balance herself, she thought ruefully, remembering her anger of the previous night.
‘Mama?’ Chloe called.
‘Look at it this way, we won’t have to do Christmas for a while. We’ll be owed three, one with Eddie and Della, one with Carrie and Dan and one with Bobby, if he ever moves back to Ireland,’ she said smoothly and slipped her nightdress back over her head.
‘Good way of looking at it,’ Greg agreed, running his hand over his stubbly jaw. ‘I thought you wouldn’t be too happy about it.’
Oh, I wasn’t, trust me. And I would have liked you to back me up on it but that never happens, she thought silently as she tied the belt of her dressing gown round her waist.
‘What’s three more mouths to feed?’ She shrugged and left her husband staring after her, not sure at all about what he was hearing.
<
br /> It’s only for one day, Shauna comforted herself as she pushed open the door of her cherished daughter’s room and saw Chloe, blond curls in glorious disarray, her two cheeks rosy red, standing up in her cot, arms out to be lifted.
‘Hello, my darling. How are you this morning?’ she asked, joy suffusing her as Chloe wrapped her two little arms round her neck and snuggled in for her morning cuddle.
‘’Allo.’ Kathryn padded in and Chloe completely lost interest in Shauna and tried to clamber out of her mother’s arms. Shauna laughed and put her down. The two cousins smiled at each other and went immediately to the toys in the toy box. What an irony, she thought with wry amusement. Kathryn and Chloe were getting on like a house on fire.
There was no sign of Della or Eddie so after she had changed Chloe’s nappy, with much protesting from her daughter who wanted to continue playing, she brought the two of them downstairs and made their porridge and plopped a spoonful of honey in each dish. Greg was cooking the fry-up and Shauna inhaled the aroma of sizzling bacon and sausages hungrily. Kathryn was able to feed herself and Shauna fed Chloe, who was watching her cousin intently, ready to go when Kathryn did. ‘Come on, eat up. You can go in and play when you’re finished,’ she said firmly as Chloe wriggled in her baby chair, demanding to be let out.
‘Oi, you two, get yourselves down here,’ Greg yelled up at Della and Eddie ten minutes later, pouring orange juice into glasses.
Shauna heard them moving around the bedroom and Della ambled downstairs five minutes later wearing Shauna’s dressing gown, which barely fastened over her bulge. ‘I didn’t feel like getting dressed so I borrowed your dressing gown,’ she said casually as she sat down at the table. Shauna felt her blood pressure rise. Della had no qualms about going into her room, borrowing dressing gowns, perfume, make-up, whatever. There were no boundaries where she was concerned.
Stop being petty, she told herself crossly, not wanting to get into a bad humour.
Divided Loyalties Page 6