Unhappy Ever After Girl
By Jenny O’Brien
Copyright © 2016 by Jenny O’Brien
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead is entirely co-incidental.
The moral right of the author has been asserted
All Rights reserved
Also by Jenny O’Brien
Ideal Girl
Girl Descending
Boy Brainy
Acknowledgements
Firstly thanks goes to fellow author Valerie Keogh for letting me include her book, Such Bitter Business within the pages of my work – it’s a great fit.
Medical thanks goes to Consultant Ophthalmologist David Yorston for helping me with the knotty problem of bilateral cataract surgery – his assistance with Derry’s congenital cataract dilemma was inspirational.
In Ireland thanks must go to Fern House Café and the head chef Kev Murphy for all the help.
In Wales I’d like to thank Gwen Arfona Roberts from the Llandudno Tourist Board for help with statistics and thanks also to Fish Tram Chips for agreeing to be included – The next time I’m in Llandudno I’m going to pop in for a cod and chips!
Danny and Rachael from Tandderwen bakery at the Spar (siop Tandderwen Betws-y-Coed) were very kind answering questions as diverse as road lights in Betws – their oggies really are as good as Derry makes out.
Also thanks to Rachael from Bryn Afon Guest House; this delightful guesthouse indeed has bedrooms overlooking Pont y Pair Bridge.
It was a surprise to find a Welsh Tapa’s restaurant in Betws-y-Coed not least because it fitted in so well with my story. Thanks Mari for allowing me to include it.
Whilst all the characters in this novel are fictitious I have included the names of Adele Blair and her daughter Megan. I’ve also had permission from Michele Turner to include her name – Adele and Michele are a delight to know as is Antoinette Friend – a friend indeed.
Finally thanks to my family as always for their continued support and love. Finding time to do all the things I both want to as well as have to is often challenging.
Now I hope I haven’t left anyone out but if I have - blame my age.
To Caroline Lydia.
‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is wing’d cupid painted blind.’ William Shakespeare, A Midsummer’s Nights Dream
Part One
A girl called Freddie
Chapter One
The early morning sun, streaming through the stained glass window cast deep shadows over her bent head. But she wasn’t aware of the bright prisms throwing their glorious light over the bench in front just as she wasn’t aware of the biting cold seeping through her thin slippers. She wasn’t aware of anything other than a sudden sense of uncertainty: a sense of uncertainty that was overwhelming just as it was unexplainable.
She’d spent half her life, or what seemed like half her life sitting in the exact same place bathed in the reflected light from the sun bouncing off the coloured pains. The window with its bright shiny countryside scene much more comforting to a lonely child than the hidden meanings and church dictates contained in her father’s sermons.
Lifting her head she read the words etched on the glass, words she’d read a thousand times, words she could quote and requote.
‘Loved and loving memory of Mabel Singer, forever walking beside me in both thought and deed.’
Would Henry love her like that? Would he mourn her loss so much as to erect an edifice to her memory? At the end of time would he step up to the mark, or would he be found wanting?
She flicked a stray strand of hair from her face, a small smile hovering on her lips. He’d professed his undying love. Surely that had to be more important than sterile lumps of glass? He’d placed the diamond on her finger and, even if it was only a small diamond it still glinted as brightly as her namesake’s memorial.
But, despite the diamond her mouth wavered and doubt lingered; unwanted and unbidden. It lingered at the edge of his smile, a smile that never quite reached his eyes - just as it lingered in the memory of his overbearing manner. She raised her hand to let the light fall off her ring. The size of the rock was irrelevant.
Her attention shifted from the words etched black against grey to the undulating rolling hills layered with pink and purple flowers, finally to rest on the clear blue of the sky punctuated only by two birds soaring in flight. She’d always been jealous of those birds: twin souls sweeping across the glass ready to rise and spiral out of the frame to perpetual freedom. But now she wasn’t so sure. For the first time she realised they weren’t free, they’d never be free. Those birds were trapped by the confines of the window to be forever captured in flight – captured in a flight going exactly nowhere.
She shifted in her seat, her bum complaining at the relentless feel of the bench it was forced to sit on week after week while its owner continued to puzzle over Henry and his motives.
WHY
Why had the recently ordained deacon chosen her over all the other girls around?
She hadn’t known him more than a few months. Was a few months long enough to snag someone’s heart for that forever journey? Since arriving to work under her father’s tutelage he’d been around every corner wooing her with smart words and even smarter flowers. She hadn’t noticed him at first that is until he made sure he was everywhere she was. She didn’t know what she wanted from life but being married had never really come into it. There was a dark shadowy dream of a man just outside her realm of vision, someone tall, dark and handsome who’d whisk both her and her heart along on a tide of unstoppable fate – and then there was Henry!
She’d been flattered at first at the near stalking: flattery soon turning into love. Her phone had taken on a life of its own. Now instead of the odd texts from Grainne and Liddy her phone was alive with his words and snapchat missives.
She stamped her feet in an effort to drum some warmth into them, her slippers making a dull thud against the tiles. Were soon to be curates meant to be social media savvy? Her dad didn’t even own a mobile let alone know what a selfie was while there was Henry sending her daily selfies in, if not compromising positions then determinedly risky ones.
Stretching out her long slender hand again in order to allow the sunlight to bounce back and forward across her ring, a smile again stole across her lips. She loved him and whatever his reasons for loving her she was prepared to take him on trust. After all she had more than enough love for both of them.
‘Freddie, you’ll catch your death of cold.’ Glancing up she grinned at the short and distinctly round figure of her father hurrying across the transept. ‘Mrs Friend has just this minute set the table; she’s determined to send you down the aisle on a full stomach.’
‘Coming father,’ she said, her hand lingering to brush against the wild cream roses hanging off the end of the pew before leaning across and planting a brief kiss on the top of his bald head. ‘We’ve got plenty of time.’
‘Don’t chance fate my love, although Grainne and Liddy have just phoned to say they’re on their way to give you a Gok Wan style makeover - whatever that means?’ He raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘All this Feng Shui stuff has passed your poor old dad by I’m afraid, your mother would have known…’
‘Don’t worry,’ she said on a laug
h. ‘I have the best dad a girl could ask for. Come on, let’s go and grab breakfast or we’ll upset Mrs Friend and that would never do!’
They made their way out the side door and across the short path to the vicarage. Freddie threw a glance at the grey brick building, her eyes dwelling on the daffodils just starting to poke their heads out of the tubs that heralded either side of the entrance. In truth these were the only attractive things about the dull single fronted rambling house that was a nightmare to keep both clean and warm, but that didn’t stop her from heaving a sigh at the sight of her home. It was the only home she knew and, with Henry now earmarked as curate one she’d be returning to as a bride after their honeymoon.
‘Mabel Frederick, you just go upstairs and get a jumper on. What will poor Henry do on that fancy honeymoon if you’ve got pneumonia!’
‘Annie, you know I’ve got the constitution of an ox.’ She replied as she sat down and pulled the steaming bowl of porridge towards her.
‘That won’t help you if you catch a bug. That church is cold enough to freeze the balls off…’
‘Mrs Friend!’ The vicar’s voice rang out sternly across the table, even as he threw a brief wink at Freddie. ‘Just toast for me please, the doctor’s been nagging again about my cholesterol.’
‘You’ll eat the porridge and the full Irish to follow and be thankful. There’s time enough to diet when your only daughter’s upped and married.’
She sniffed loudly before turning her back on them to start crashing saucepans on top of the old Aga in the corner.
It was Freddie’s turn to wink at her dad as she pushed the marmalade in his direction. ‘You’d better do as you’re told dad, or live to regret it.’
‘Huh,’ he grumbled, spooning the thick homemade preserve onto the side of his plate with a mock sigh. They both knew it was more than his life’s worth to upset Mrs Friend. Freddie couldn’t do more than make scrambled eggs while the Aga was a stranger to her dad. Without her daily visits they’d starve, or even worse have to put up with the spinsters and widows of the parish taking control of the kitchen along with the church flowers! They used to laugh at this determined group of women trying to organise every quarter of his life, but it was no laughing matter. Annie Friend, and her various moods was eminently preferable to the ever present danger of the gang of grey haired grannies that had been hounding their every movement since his wife had died in a car accident all those years ago.
Chapter Two
The only problem with having your father marry you was he couldn’t give you away.
Glancing up at Ruari before tucking her hand into his arm she retraced her footsteps back across to the church. She’d had quite a few men to choose from but she’d finally chosen the handsomest, and who could blame her. She’d grown increasingly close to him since his engagement to Grainne and now counted him as one of her closest friends. Call her fickle, but if he’d been an ugly git he’d have had no chance in acting her substitute dad.
Hitching up her train she paused briefly to wave at all the people gathering outside the gates of St Eilidh’s before taking the long way round to the front entrance, treading carefully on the slippery moss that sprinkled the path at this time of year. Walking up the couple of steps into the church she smiled with relief at the sight of her bridesmaids, Grainne and Liddy thankful she could now hand over the train from hell into their very capable hands.
‘Well I never thought you’d scrub up so well, Mabe.’ Ruari whispered as he marshalled her through the wide dark studded door. ‘You looked stunning at Liddy’s wedding, but today you really are the beautiful bride.’
She blushed to the roots of her carefully arranged up-do, sprinkled with rose buds to match her rich cream bouquet. Lifting a brief hand to her hair she remembered the hassle they’d had in getting it all to stay in place. She rarely went to the hairdresser and it was so long it actually skimmed her bottom when she walked. She’d have liked to get it all cut off but her father and now Henry both insisted she kept it just as it was so, apart from the odd trim the length remained.
‘Well thanks very much and all Roar. It’s thanks to the bridesmaids though. Grainne was on hair duty while Liddy got her paint box out. I think I look like a clown with all this muck slathered on me face but…’ She paused to brush a stray hair from his shoulder. ‘You will make sure I marry the right man won’t you! Without my specs I can’t see further than the end of my nose!’
‘You and me both!’ He said squinting behind his frames. ‘You’ll have to rely on the girls for that. I don’t know why they let you loose on that eye clinic - I would have thought it’s the worst place for you to work?’
‘Nah, they all like me because of my coke bottle glasses. They know I know what it’s like to keep bumping into things! Anyway I’ve promised myself to try contacts.’ She threw him a brief smile, ‘don’t tell Henry though, he says contacts are a waste of money – money that could be used to feed the poor etcetera. Glasses don’t really bother me apart from the odd time I find I’ve slept in them!’
She heard Ruari grunt a reply and her smile dimmed. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that about Henry, after all it was personal family business as her dad would say. But with a dearth of family to support her she was beginning to count both Ruari and Grainne as honorary siblings – they’d certainly earned this accolade over the last few months. She’d lost count of the late night calls between Crumlin and Sandycove mulling over her dates with Henry. What he’d said - what he’d done. She felt a guilty blush course up her neck and stain her cheek, for of course he’d done nothing, less than nothing really except in her imagination. As he said himself vicars (the fact he was only a vicar in training being a moot point) had a social standing in the community and couldn’t be seen to be necking with all and sundry, even if it was behind the security of closed doors and curtains in her little house miles and miles away from the parish. The only way anyone would have known what they were up to would have been if someone had bugged the place and, she could be wrong but she was pretty sure a junior vicar and an ophthalmic nurse weren’t bugging material.
Lifting her head she could just about make out his outline standing in front of the altar, the hired grey morning suit pulling across his back, his overlong hair brushing over his collar. She felt all the uncertainties of before jump up and accost her like an anxious puppy on the way to the vets. She didn’t really know the man ahead. Apart from a few chaste kisses in his old Honda Civic and a few fancy meals he was a closed book. Her lips pulled into an excuse of a smile. He was a closed book, she an unwritten page – an unwritten page she was just about to give him permission to scribble all over.
They were standing in the porch while Grainne and Liddy fiddled with her train, getting the folds to lie just so as they waited for the music to change. Glancing down at her simple white dress before smoothing out an imaginary crease she suddenly doubted her choice. The pure white silhouette had felt just perfect in the shop. They’d spent what seemed like days trekking from one bridal shop to the next made all the more difficult by Henry’s words ringing in her ears every time she lifted up a price tag. He was right of course at the selfishness of spending thousands on something she’d only wear once what with half the world starving. But he could talk about charity and good thoughts until the lights went out. All the common sense in the world wasn’t going to stop her sighing at the sight of the fairy-tale dresses nudging up to and almost obscuring her plain little frock with its too high neck and long tight sleeves fastened in a row of fabric covered buttons. Nothing could disguise the fact her frock was made from some cheap imported mass produced polyester mix and not the silk she craved. How the hell was she meant to feel like a princess when it felt like she was swathed in material best suited to one of those nasty nylon nighties her gran used to insist on wearing.
No, the dress she was wearing was a mistake. She should have ignored his dictates and bought what she’d wanted and hang the expense. What she was wearing was too plain,
too simple and far too virginal, especially in light of Henry’s taste for the dramatic. She just knew he’d be wearing a fancy cravat and an even fancier waistcoat with matching braces just as she knew he’d have one of those stupid foppish hankies poking out of his top pocket. The one thing she didn’t know was what he’d think of her dress, but she was starting to have a bloody good idea!
Her gaze scrolled back over the congregation only to still at the sight of the bright red pixie haircut peeking out from a pure white hat: a pure white hat to match the frothy white confection of a dress that was a hundred times more wedding like than hers. A frown marred her brow at the thought of Iris turning up uninvited to her wedding. Just who gate crashed a wedding and in an outfit to rival the bride anyway?
‘I didn’t know you’d invited Iris?’ His eyes tracking hers as the music died and then swelled up into the first bars of Wagner’s Bridal Chorus.
‘Neither did I! She must have seen the announcement in The Irish Times.’
‘I know she was a friend but she’s a nasty piece of work that one.’
‘It’s alright Roar, water under the bridge and all that. Come on, let’s not keep Henry waiting.’ She paused at the sight of his sudden look.
‘Mabel, you do know Grainne and I will always be there for you…’ She watched as his eyes swivelled to glance at Henry. ‘Anything you need, all you have to do is ask.’
‘I know. Now come on, I’ve a sudden desire to get wed!’
Chapter Three
The reception was all she could have asked for and more. They’d decided on using the church hall simply because it was free - Henry’s love of penny pinching again rearing its ugly head. She just hoped he’d be a little more generous when the kids came along because she was damned if she was putting up with second hand anything where her baby was concerned. She could just imagine him trawling through the castoffs donated for the less fortunate for prams and the like. It’s not as if she didn’t have a good job and couldn’t afford a few niceties and, whilst deacons weren’t well paid at least he had some kind of an income to live on.
Unhappy Ever After Girl (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 3) Page 1