Unhappy Ever After Girl (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 3)

by Jenny O'Brien

  However, for all that the church hall had proved to be a delightful choice. What with all those good ladies of the parish chomping at the bit to help they had the, usually drab and frankly uninspiring hall turned into a flower festooned wonderland in no time. They’d spent two days draping rose garlands from the rafters and with the trestle tables disguised with hired table linen all they had to sort out was the food and the place settings. Freddie had been amazed at what they could hire. From the chair covers to wine glasses and even down to the side plates and cutlery the only thing that wasn’t rented was the food.

  Once the wedding photographer had snapped his last photo they’d all trundled into the hall and sat down to a buffet style wedding breakfast. She’d never felt happier sitting on the top table between the most important people in her life; her dad and now Henry. All her pre-wedding nerves had fallen away as she’d signed her name next to his in the register, and now looking back she laughed at her stupidity of earlier. Henry loved her, that’s all that mattered. Picking up her bread roll she broke it in half before spreading it thickly with butter. She hadn’t done justice to Mrs Friend’s breakfast and she felt faint from the lack of food.

  ‘Don’t eat too much, darling – think of all those bikini’s you’ll be wearing in a couple of days!’

  Her hand paused, but only briefly before lifting the roll and taking an enormous bite. She never put on weight and, even if she stuffed her face fat it wasn’t up to Henry to criticize her. She chewed resolutely, the morsel of bread now like sawdust in her mouth before determinedly picking up her fork and spearing the largest chunk of potato salad she could find. It didn’t matter her cheeks were full to bursting or that the sawdust had suddenly turned into shards of glass at the back of her throat. If she didn’t make a stand now she’d be a doormat, instead of the dearly beloved of only moments before.

  ‘Darling?’

  ‘Oh, leave her alone Henry, she’ll dance it off later won’t you Mabe?’ Ruari reached out a hand and added another roll to her plate.

  ‘I do wish you’d stop calling her by that ridiculous name. No one’s called Mabel these days – it’s so old-fashioned.’ He added, laughing.

  ‘Why? It’s the one she was christened with?’

  ‘It’s an awful name, Freddie is eminently more suitable for a…..’

  ‘It was my grandmother’s name.’ She interrupted softly and, with both hands lying flat on the table pushed herself to her feet. ‘I just need to…I just need to powder my nose.’

  ‘Freddie, I don’t think now is the time…’

  ‘Henry, I really don’t care what you think – I need the loo!’

  ‘I’ll help you.’ Grainne stood up from her place beside Ruari and, gathering her train into a bundle headed towards the toilets situated at the back of the hall.

  ‘He probably didn’t mean it, nerves and all that.’

  ‘Oh he meant it.’ She swung open the door and made her way to the sink, her face ashen in the brown stained mirror. ‘I’m starting to think I’ve made a terrible mistake.’ She threw an anxious look over her shoulder. ‘I always knew he had strong ideas, you know about me not getting contacts and keeping my hair long but…’

  ‘But nothing!’ Grainne swept her into a big hug, careful not to disturb her hair. ‘He’s probably nervous because of everything and he’s sitting next to the vicar who just happens to be his new wife’s dad. Come on, let’s have a look at that make-up unless…’ She paused, throwing a quick look at the sound of a toilet flushing from the door behind.

  ‘Well well, trouble in paradise already and you’ve been married for what – all of forty five minutes. I would have thought you could at least have made the full hour!’

  Freddie threw her eyes heavenwards at the sight of Iris making her way over to the sink. That’s all she needed!

  ‘Hello Iris, I didn’t think you’d have the nerve to show your face back here unless it’s to pay me back all the rent you owe me?’

  Iris turned her full attention on her, taking time to scroll up and down her frock with a smirk.

  ‘You’d be lucky! It was no more than a hovel - you’re lucky with what you did get out of me!’

  She sighed her annoyance. Iris was the very last person she wanted to see and certainly not here, not now - not now she was starting to have doubts about Henry. ‘And just out of interest who invited you to my wedding?’

  ‘That handsome husband of yours - who else?’ She pouted in the mirror applying a thick layer of gloss to her already bright red mouth before looking her up and down again, a faint sneer pulling at her lips. ‘I’m more than surprised you managed to pull him you know, unless you blackmailed him,’ her eyes insolently sliding down to land on her stomach. ‘What a darling. As soon as he heard we used to share he popped around with an invite - Sooo generous. You’ll be seeing a lot of me now I’m back.’

  ‘We’ll see about that!’

  ‘No, I’ll see about that! I can wrap men like Henry around my little finger.’ She lifted a hand to smooth her painted on eyebrows before blowing herself a kiss into the mirror. ‘In fact I had two like him for breakfast – yummy! No, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me now that Henry’s on the scene. He’s already invited me to stay at the vicarage while you’re away. I quite like the idea of being pampered by that Mrs Friend of yours.’ She added, flicking back her hair.

  ‘Now you just hold on a minute…’

  ‘It’s alright my lovely; I haven’t taken him up on it as I’ve already made arrangements for the next couple of weeks. One of my boyfriend’s wife’s is going on a shopping trip to New York tomorrow so I’ll be installed in the lap of luxury over in Killiney while you’re away on your little old honeymoon. Where is it he’s taking you to again?’ She said, heading towards the door. ‘Oh yeah, that’s right roughing it in some Christian hostel in Spain. What’s his plan again – a grand tour of all those churches? Rather you than me; you don’t know what you’ll catch in places like that. I wouldn’t be surprised if you come back covered in flea bites.’

  ‘Drop dead Iris!’ But the door had already whispered to a close, leaving the smell of some cloyingly expensive perfume lingering in the still air.

  ‘So that was Iris was it! What a bitch. Are those boobs for real?’

  ‘Fake as her nails, she’s as flat as a pancake, or at least she was last time I saw her. Now she’d do Dolly Parton proud!’ She glanced down at her own distinctly flat chest with a frown. ‘Some men like that sort of thing, of course.’

  ‘What, being walloped around the face by a mound of silicone or whatever filler they’re using these days. Nah, natural is best. Once you’ve had a couple of kids they’ll fill out a bit.’ Grainne glanced in the mirror and prodded the little fuchsia pink rose back into place. ‘I’m so glad you didn’t decide on green for our dresses, I was a little worried what with Liddy having those stunning green eyes of hers.’

  ‘It’s the very least I could do sweetie and Liddy wasn’t fussed. She might as well look a pink whale as a green one now she’s pregnant – her words not mine!’ She added. Gathering up her train she headed back towards the door. ‘Come on, I’d better not keep the vicar waiting, or he might decide to read me another sermon!’

  Chapter Four

  The rest of the meal went without a hitch. Henry didn’t apologise and Freddie didn’t eat, but she’d lost her appetite all of a sudden. Her eyes kept straying to where Iris sat surrounded by a group of Henry’s friends. Her white dress was practically indecent with the threat of her falling out every time she reached out a bejewelled hand for her wine glass. She’d caught Henry looking at her on more than one occasion, a big goofy grin slashed across his face.

  ‘I didn’t know you knew Iris?’ She said, her eyes following his for the umpteenth time.

  ‘No? Lovely girl, so very kind.’

  She snorted. ‘There are many words I’d use to describe Iris but kind isn’t one of them. Thief, tart…’

  ‘Freddie, that’s b
eneath you, and you married to a man of the cloth too. I’ve a good mind to wash your mouth out with soap and water.’

  ‘You just try it! Be careful Henry, your tongue’s hanging out so far it’ll trip you up if you’re not careful.’ She knew she’d overstepped the mark when she spotted the way his white knuckled hand clenched the stem of his wineglass. Glancing up at his stiff jaw she had the distinct feeling she’d pay for it later, but frankly she didn’t care. She’d just realised she’d made the biggest mistake of her life, a mistake that couldn’t be rubbed out with an apology or a smile. She’d thought she was marrying someone completely different to the man on her left. Her friends had been telling her for months, in fact ever since she’d introduced him that he was the most boring man they’d ever met; boring and sanctimonious.

  All he ever talked about was the good works he’d carried out, or the good works he intended to carry out in the future. There was a distinct lack of humility in the far from humble Henry, something she’d only just realised. He was a good man, but only as long as everyone knew it. She wondered just how good he’d be when there was no one around to see the results of his actions. They’d be alone tonight – what then? Would he turn into the kind of man she hoped she’d married, a good honest man – a good man in the eyes of both his wife and future children that is: a man like her dad. Her dad always put his wife and then his daughter first, good deeds second: good deeds he’d had no need to flaunt. His good deeds were carried out quietly with no thought apart from the benefit he could make to the lives of others.

  Would Henry be like that or would he be someone else entirely? The annoying thing was she had no idea as to the answer. For all his good deeds and Godly works humble Henry had very old fashioned ideas about courtship, which meant she’d rarely been alone with him, something she now regretted with a fearsome anxiety that took her breath away. The sudden realisation that she’d just married a stranger caused the colour to drain from her face. She’d married a man she didn’t know, the worst thing of course was, sitting here amongst their friends there was little she could do about it now.

  The sound of a spoon tapping a glass brought her to her senses and she settled back to hear her father effuse about how perfect a daughter he had and now the perfect son-in-law. Her heart cracked at his words. How could she do anything other than play along with what was now a charade of a marriage? She didn’t mind letting herself down, or everyone else for that matter but she’d never do anything to wipe the happiness stamped across her father’s face. He was so proud she was marrying someone so solid: for solid read stingy, boring and gullible. She threw a quick glance at Iris holding court, surrounded by every single bloke in the building. She couldn’t quite believe how easily Henry had fallen for her saucy smile and bit tits; talk about naïve! The worst of it was she just knew that she’d hang around Henry like a bad smell just as she knew there wasn’t a single thing she could do to stop her.

  It was now the best man’s turn but she switched off to his nasally tones waxing lyrical on the perfection that was Henry: his love of clothes and fashion, his escapades as a deacon and finally the apparent love at first sight that had surprised them all. Ha. She stole a look at him from under her lids. There were many reasons for their marriage but, she suddenly realised love wasn’t one of them. Her mind scattered to all four corners trying to work it out but she couldn’t. Instead she stared out at the guests, not seeing anyone or anything other than her thoughts of the long bleak loveless marriage ahead. She only switched back when it was his turn.

  Henry performed his part to perfection. Thanking both his father-in-law and the bridesmaids with a composite speech that must have taken hours to pen. But Freddie wasn’t fooled. His hand, now holding a champagne flute still gripped it with an iron tight fist – his anger remained and she knew whom he was about to take it out on. But first they had to carry acting out this sudden farce of a marriage on the dancefloor as the band had just started up. Putting her hand in his was an exercise in restraint. All she wanted was soft words and even softer caresses but that wasn’t on the menu. She sighed, the bars of the music swelling and dipping around like a caress. It still wasn’t too late for them. Surely it was all a mistake. He’d take her in his arms and everything would be alright just like it was when he proposed. All couples argued and they were no different. He was obviously as nervous as she was. She lifted her head, a shy smile fluttering across her face as she walked into his arms. The smile froze, and remained frozen as the argument continued.

  ‘That wasn’t very Christian of you to speak about dear Iris like that – such a sweet girl with so much to offer.’

  ‘Oh, get off your soap box Henry. She’s a slapper of the highest order. If it’s half decent looking and has money she’ll jump it – remember I shared a house with her. There were more men going in and out her bedroom than you’d find at the urinals at Grand Central Station.’

  ‘How very vulgar! I’m beginning to doubt your commitment to the church….’

  ‘Get stuffed Henry.’ She said, re-pinning her bright smile on to tight lips as she caught her dad watching her.

  Henry twirled her around, almost causing her to lose her footing. If it hadn’t been for his hand clamped tight around her waist she would have.

  ‘I’ll have a little read of the scriptures my dear. There’s sure to be something in there to help you find your way again.’ He lifted a hand and stroked her face. ‘It’s probably all the strain of the wedding and all – I forgive you!’

  She didn’t answer for, in truth there was nothing she could think of to say. He was such a hypocrite if he didn’t see how wrong it was to allow someone like Iris too close – she’d eat him as an aperitif. Her eyes remained resolutely dry as she lifted her chin and, still silent stared into his face. He was the one to look away first. It was a small victory and one she knew she’d regret later but she didn’t care. She’d think up something before then – she had no choice not to.

  The music changed then and she found herself swung out of Henry’s arms and twirled away before she had time to blink. The thing that upset her the most was his benign acceptance of it all. If he wasn’t even prepared to fight for his wife on this their wedding day what else wouldn’t he be prepared to fight for? She looked over her would be rescuer’s shoulder to follow him as he made his way over to a table of parishioners no doubt to start telling them the error of their ways too. She watched him point to the half-filled glasses with a ready smile – he was probably ticking them off for turning into dipsomaniacs or, even worse berating them for drinking his hard earned money! Her eyes were moist with sudden tears, for she’d just realised she’d married the biggest wimp of them all. He wasn’t going to stay and dance with her even though, perversely dancing with her husband was the last thing on earth she now wanted to do.

  Ruari had twirled her off the floor and into a corner before she knew it.

  ‘Alright Mabel, it looked a little intense out there?’ He said, a worried frown marring his brow.

  ‘I’m fine, just a little disagreement.’ She pulled away slightly. ‘I need a breath of fresh air, all that wine’s gone to my head.’ She made for the door, only to pause at the sight of him starting to follow her. ‘No, you stay here and dance with Grainne, I’ll be fine.’

  Bundling up her train under one arm she heaved the heavy door open and slipped outside into the cold dark night her feet tapping against the cobblestones. The cool air was a blessed relief and, looking up at the star lit sky for once clear of clouds she felt, if not happy then at least happier. He would be mixing with his friends now and not bothering about what his little wifie was up to. She made her way the short distance to the church and, sitting in her pew stared up at the window, barely visible in the darkness.

  Was it only a few short hours ago she’d sat here full of expectation and anticipation for the future? She was a different girl then, a happy girl. Now all she felt was numb: numb and annoyed. She wasn’t annoyed with Henry; after all he was onl
y behaving like he always behaved, just ten times worse. She should have read the signals. All those times in restaurants he’d ordered for her, without even asking what she’d like to eat or drink. All those times in company he’d ignored her, instead making learned conversation about some ancient religious parable or teaching he’d found. All those times he’d just assumed he knew best. Oh, it was all done under the guise of looking out for her. He was always the perfect gentleman, especially in front of others; if you called ignoring your fiancé being the perfect gentleman that is!

  She gathered up her train for what felt like the umpteenth time. If she’d had a scissors she’d cut it off there and then. Instead, grabbing the end and lifting up her skirt she stuck the end in her garter. She didn’t need to glance down at the top of her stockings peeking out from her now shortened hem to see she looked a sight. Her hair was falling down, her flowers wilting all over the place and her feet; her feet were killing her. She slipped off the pretty white satin shoes that had looked beautiful in the shop and, lifting up her leg started massaging the red skin over her toes regretting now all the times she’d opted for trainers instead of heels. Her skin, as soft as butter hadn’t had the months and years of toughening up to allow her to wear skyscraper heels without injury - She’d been mad to think she could get away with it.

  Pushing her hair off her forehead she paid little regard to the flowers as petals started raining down on her head like giant confetti flakes. For her the wedding was over, and not just the wedding. The marriage was over before it had even begun. She felt cold all of a sudden, cold and now desperately tired. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms she could still feel Henry’s hands fresh on her skin where he’d resolutely touched her; only for show, only because there was an audience – not because he’d actually wanted to.