The following Monday morning, Bill arrived upstairs with a cup of early morning tea for his wife. ‘What kind of a day is it?’ Izzy murmured sleepily. She and Bill were going shopping for the Santa toys. They had decided on a compromise and decided to borrow 150 euros from the credit union and use 100 euros out of the 250 euros that Izzy had managed to put by for expenses. Through a chink in the curtains she could see a sliver of daylight. The wind and sleet of the previous two days had died down.
Bill drew back the curtains and peered out. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she heard him say. ‘Izzy come here, you’ve just got to see this!’
‘What?’ she asked, intrigued, wrapping the duvet around her to protect her from the early morning chill. She followed her husband’s pointing finger. And burst out laughing. ‘What a prat! What a prize prat,’ she said, chortling as she viewed an outsized Noblis fir decorated with multicoloured lights, standing in a tub in the centre of the Pierces’ front lawn.
All in all, it hadn’t been a bad Christmas, Izzy decided, as she put the finishing touches to the creamy homemade vegetable soup she was serving as a starter for lunch with Mari. It was made with the stock of the turkey bones and there’d be plenty for tomorrow, she thought with satisfaction.
It was the day after Stephen’s Day and Bill had taken the children on the Dart into Dublin to go to the pictures, so Izzy and her friend could have a bit of peace. Izzy had lit the fire early and had piled on the coal and briquettes so that the back boiler was boiling and the radiators were fine and hot. They were going through coal at an awful rate. Once the children were back at school, it would be back to lighting a fire in the evening. Still, at least the house was warm for her guest today.
It had been two years since Mari had last been home. Izzy had known her since they were in their teens. They’d gone to secondary school together and worked in the civil service before Mari had fallen in love with a young doctor. They had married and gone to live in Dubai ten years ago. Izzy and she kept in touch by email, Facebook, and the occasional phone call. Mari had come back home several times over the years and Izzy had marvelled at how glamorous and sophisticated her friend had become.
She had, by all accounts, a glittering lifestyle out in the Emirates. A life full of parties and shopping and exotic travel. Her husband, Brett, had become a successful heart specialist and now they had a very affluent lifestyle. Brett and Owen would get on well, Izzy reflected, grinning. In fact it would be hilarious to listen to the pair of them trying to outdo each other.
She lifted the lid of another saucepan and added some chopped chives to the flaked salmon that was poaching in a cream and white wine sauce. Her mother had made a Christmas pudding and trifle for her and her mother-in-law had baked a Christmas cake, so at least she had dessert and afternoon tea taken care of. She also had a decent Chardonnay chilling. Someone had given it to them ages ago and she had put it aside for a special occasion. This was just such an occasion.
It was just as well Mari had picked the day after Stephen’s Day because there was precious little left in the kitty, and what was in the fridge was going to have to do them for the rest of the week. Still, Rachel and Keith had been thrilled with their new bikes and Jessica was playing her ABC computer morning, noon and night. It had been a good idea putting those few euros from the children’s allowance aside over the year. It had gone a long way towards paying for their Santa gifts.
Izzy turned down the salmon and went to give a last look over the house. She had hoovered and dusted thoroughly that morning and the house was fragrant with polish and pot pourri. A thought struck her and she ran upstairs to her bedroom and slid open her Sliderobes. On the bottom shelf of her make-up area there was a three-quarters full roll of soft floral toilet paper. Izzy took it and went into the main bathroom to replace the cheap, rough off-white thrift roll that was in the toilet roll holder. Maybe she was being daft but she badly wanted to keep up appearances. She always kept the expensive roll for when there was visitors. There was no need for Mari to know anything about Bill being unemployed. She couldn’t explain exactly why she didn’t want her friend to know of their plight. Mari wouldn’t look down her nose at them in the least; she wasn’t a bit like that, for all her wealth. She’d be very sympathetic if anything. It was just her silly pride, Izzy decided. But Bill’s being unemployed seemed almost tantamount to failure in the light of Brett’s success. It was a horrible thing to think, she scolded herself shamefaced, but even so . . .
Just for good measure, she produced a box of matching tissues, which she was also keeping for ‘good wear’, out of her wardrobe, and placed them on the shelf under the mirror. They gave a nice co- ordinated touch to the bathroom, and satisfied, Izzy went back downstairs to await her guest.
She paused in front of the mirror to check her appearance. She’d got her hair cut and blow-dried on Christmas Eve and it still looked good and a bit of make-up did wonders. The last year had added a few grey hairs to her chestnut curls, she thought ruefully, and the fine lines around her wide hazel eyes had deepened perceptibly. Still, she didn’t look too bad considering, and the black trousers and amber blouse looked very well on her. A ring on the doorbell made her jump and she glanced at her watch. Mari was early.
‘Happy Christmas,’ came the cheerful greeting as Izzy opened the door and was hugged warmly by her friend who was certainly dressed for the weather in a magnificent, expensive fur coat. Mari had no problem wearing fur. Izzy tried not to think of the poor animals that had been slaughtered to make it.
‘Come in, come in,’ she urged. ‘Now that Mari was here, she was delighted to see her.
‘God above, I’m freezing.’ Mari grimaced as she shut the door behind her.
‘I’ve a blazing fire lit; come in and sit down beside it,’ Izzy urged, leading the way into the sitting room.
‘I’ve been cold since I came home,’ Mari explained. ‘The heat thins your blood and I know the animal lovers won’t approve of the coat but it really stops me from freezing to death.’ She looked tired, Izzy thought, despite the fact that her make-up was perfectly applied and her blonde, highlighted hair in its classical chignon, the height of chic.
‘Well, how are you, Izzy? How are the gang?’ Mari smiled as she shrugged out of her coat, and handed it to Izzy. She sank into the big armchair in front of the fire and held out her hands to the blaze.
‘I’m fine, we’re all fine,’ Izzy said cheerfully. ‘Sit down there and relax . . . and what will you have to drink?’
‘I have the car, Izzy, so I’ll just have the one glass of wine,’ Mari replied, and Izzy gave a mental sigh of relief. The good wine would last through lunch and she wouldn’t have to open that awful bottle of plonk she’d bought on special offer. She should have remembered: Mari always hired a car when she was home. She hung the coat on the hallstand and went to the kitchen to pour the wine, which was chilling in the fridge. ‘There’s a lovely smell.’ Mari followed her in. ‘What’s for lunch?’
‘Salmon and pasta and a side salad.’ Izzy answered as she did the business with the corkscrew.
‘Oh, yum, you always made great pasta dishes, Izzy,’ Mari lifted the lid of the saucepan and sniffed appreciatively. ‘I’ve really been looking forward to seeing you and catching up on the all the craic and the gossip. Where’s Bill and the children?’
Izzy handed her a glass of wine. ‘He took them into Dublin on the Dart, for a treat. They’ve gone to the pictures.’ Mari’s face fell.
‘I will get to see them, won’t I?’
‘Oh, indeed you will,’ Izzy laughed.
‘Oh, good. I’ve brought them a few presents and I’ve a bottle of brandy for yourself and Bill.’
‘Mari, you shouldn’t have!’ Izzy exclaimed. Her friend was terribly generous and knowing that she wouldn’t come empty handed, Izzy had wrapped up a hardback copy of best-selling author – Philippa Gregory’s brand-new novel that her Aunt Patti had given her. She’d been dying to read it herself but she knew that Mari
, who was an avid reader, would thoroughly enjoy it and a brand new hardback book was a decent present to give her old friend.
‘I suppose I won’t recognize the children.’ Mari sipped her wine appreciatively. ‘Jessica was only a baby the last time I was home.’
‘She’s well and truly a little girl now, marauding all over the place and up to all kinds of mischief,’ Izzy grinned. Mari had no children but she always took an interest in Rachel, Keith and Jessica and always brought them something on her trips home from Dubai.
‘Will I serve up our lunch now?’ Izzy cocked an eyebrow at the other woman.
‘Why not, if it’s OK with you? I haven’t eaten all morning and I feel a bit peckish,’ Mari agreed.
‘Go on in to the dining room and sit down and I’ll bring in the soup,’ Izzy instructed. She had set the dining table with the good silverware and crystal and her best linen tablecloth and napkins. And she had a lovely centrepiece on the table made up of holly and ivy, that she and Bill had picked in the woods. She lit the candles and served the soup and garlic bread and the pair of them sat down to a good natter.
Although Mari had said she was peckish she didn’t do justice to the meal and Izzy was terribly perturbed that perhaps she hadn’t liked the dish. Her friend always ate like a horse and never put on an ounce, unlike Izzy who only had to look at a cream cake to put on weight.
‘Was it OK? Maybe it was a bit rich? ‘Izzy said apologetically.
‘No, no! It was fine. Really!’ Mari assured her. ‘I just wasn’t as hungry as I thought.’
They had their coffee in at the fire, chatting about inconsequential things and somehow, Izzy, listening to tales of the glamorous life in the Emirates, just couldn’t bring herself to tell Mari that Bill was unemployed.
He and the children arrived home around six and they were full of excitement about their jaunt on the Dart and their trip to the cinema and McDonald’s. ‘It’s lovely and warm in here,’ Keith said appreciatively, and Izzy, being extra sensitive on the day that was in it, prayed that her son would keep his mouth shut and say nothing else. She didn’t want her affluent friend thinking that the house wasn’t always this warm.
When Mari produced their presents, there was as much excitement as when Santa’s gifts had been discovered on Christmas morning. Mari was in her element as they all vied for hugs and kisses before Bill took the three of them out to the kitchen to get some hot, nourishing soup into them. Rachel, en route to the kitchen, sighed, and said wistfully, ‘I wish it was Christmas every day of the year so we could always have this gorgeous food.’ Izzy nearly died. Her face actually flamed as she stood waiting for her child to say something like she was sick of beans and mince and fish fingers, but she said nothing else and followed her sister and brother.
‘Turkey and ham and Christmas pud always seems so exotic when you’re a child, doesn’t it?’ Mari remarked innocently, quite unaware of her friend’s angst.
‘Hmm . . .’ agreed Izzy distractedly. God only knew what the children were going to come out with next to land her in it. She should have been honest with Mari at the beginning and told her about Bill being unemployed. There was no shame in it. It could happen to anyone, but it would look a bit odd to go suddenly blurting it out now, especially when she had led Mari to believe that everything was normal in the Reynolds’ household. She was going to be on tenterhooks for the rest of the evening. She must excuse herself for a minute and grab Bill and tell him to say nothing about being unemployed. She’d tell him she’d explain later. He’d probably be annoyed with her and feel that she was ashamed of him. By trying to keep up a façade she’d made a right mess of things, she thought miserably.
‘They’re just gorgeous, Izzy. You’re so lucky,’ Mari said, enviously, interrupting her friend’s musings.
‘I know that,’ Izzy agreed, carefully folding up the expensive wrapping paper and mentally reflecting that it would come in handy next year.
‘Mammy, I did wee wee all by myself Jessica appeared at the door with her dress caught up in her little panties.
‘You’re a good girl!’ her mother exclaimed. ‘Come here until I tuck in your vest.’ Jessica cuddled in against her as Izzy adjusted her clothing.
‘There’s lobely soft toilet woll in the bathwoom, it’s nice and soft on my bum bum,’ Jessica announced, staring at Mari.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Izzy thought in mortification. Next, she’ll be saying we’re poor people or something. Heart scalded, flustered, she told her daughter to go back out to the kitchen to finish her soup. Jessica wrapped her little arms around her neck. ‘I lobe you, Mammy. The next time, will you come to the pictures?’
‘Of course I will, lovey.’ Izzy hugged the little girl to her before she went trotting out to the kitchen.
‘She’s so beautiful,’ Mari said, and her voice sounded terribly sad. Izzy caught her friend’s gaze and to her dismay saw that Mari’s eyes were bright with tears.
‘God! What’s wrong, Mari?’ Izzy exclaimed, closing the door and rushing over to her side. ‘What is it? Tell me what’s wrong.’ She put her arms around her friend as Mari began to cry.
‘Brett and me, we’re finished. He’s been having an affair with this American bimbo half his age and now she’s pregnant and he wants a divorce. He wouldn’t let me come off the Pill, he kept saying to wait another year and then another and now this tart’s pregnant and it’s fine by him. I hate him, the bastard,’ Mari sobbed. ‘I didn’t want to tell you, I was just too ashamed.’
Izzy couldn’t believe her ears. What a shit Brett was. She knew Mari had always wanted children.
‘You’ve nothing to be ashamed about,’ she said outraged, ‘He’s the skunk. I can’t believe he did this to you. He’s not worthy of you, Mari. Don’t you dare feel ashamed.’
Mari lifted her head from Izzy’s’ neck. ‘I don’t know why I feel this way. I did nothing to be ashamed about. It’s just . . . Oh, you know what I mean, Izzy, my poor mother will be mortified. The first divorce in the family. What will the relations say?’ she hiccupped.
‘Don’t mind the relations or anyone. It’s your life and your business,’ Izzy snorted.
‘I’ve been on my own for months. I just couldn’t tell you. Can you understand?’ Mari managed a wry smile.
‘I understand exactly,’ Izzy said slowly. ‘Actually, Mari, I’ve been keeping something from you as well.’ She met her friend’s tear-stained gaze. ‘Bill’s been out of work for over fourteen months and it’s a bit of a struggle. Like you, I just couldn’t bring myself to say it out straight. I wanted to keep up appearances. I’m sorry it was just silly pride,’ she admitted ruefully.
‘Oh, Lord. That’s awful for you and Bill,’ Mari exclaimed. ‘You should have told me!’
‘I know, and you should have told me!’
‘He’ll get another job,’ Mari soothed. ‘And at least the pair of you are as crazy about each other as ever. You can spot that a mile off. God. You can face anything when you’re together. I was so gutted when I found out about Brett and that . . . that pea-brained, simpering idiot who’s got her claws into him. The thing that hurt most of all is that she’s pregnant. Every time I suggested trying for a baby he said to wait another year. He didn’t want his cushy lifestyle disrupted by crying babies. I’ll probably never have a child of my own now.’ Her voice wobbled and she burst into tears again.
‘Of course you will; you’ll meet someone new. You’re still a relatively young woman,’ Izzy reassured her, shocked by what she had just heard. Her own circumstances might not be the best but they were a hell of a lot better than Mari’s. No wonder the poor girl couldn’t eat her lunch. No wonder she’d seemed so on edge for the afternoon.
‘I haven’t told the family yet. Mum will have a fit.’
‘She’ll get over it.’ Izzy assured her.
‘It’s such a relief to tell someone, Izzy,’ Mari confessed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘It’s been so hard being at home trying to preten
d everything’s normal. I told them Brett couldn’t come home because of work commitments. A bit feeble, I know, but no one’s questioned it. It’s bloody hard trying to keep up the façade.’
‘Of course it’s been hard, Mari, but you’ve got to tell them. You can’t go around keeping that to yourself. You’d crack up. And I know your family – they’ll be very supportive; it’s amazing how kind people are when the chips are down. I know,’ she added wryly.
‘Oh, Izzy, what idiots we’ve been, trying to put on brave faces. If we can’t tell each other our problems, then who can we tell?’ Mari said.
‘Exactly!’ Izzy agreed. ‘Now, look, why don’t you phone home and tell them you’re staying the night and we’ll open the brandy you brought and we’ll have Brandy Alexanders and have a really good natter about things.’
‘Oh, Izzy, that would be lovely,’ Mari said, sighing, beginning to feel better already.
‘I’ll just run up an put the heat on in the spare bedroom, and fish out some towels and a nightdress for you.’ Izzy patted her on the shoulder.
‘Now don’t go to any trouble,’ Mari remonstrated.
‘It’s no trouble for an old pal,’ Izzy said firmly.
She turned on the radiator and laid a clean, long-sleeved nightdress on Mari’s bed. That would keep her snug, she thought, and she’d put the electric blanket on later. To hell with the electricity bill for once. Mari was undergoing a bad enough trauma without spending the night shivering.
Izzy stood at the bedroom window, staring out into the night. A sliver of new moon hid behind a wisp of cloud. The lights of the Christmas trees in her neighbour’s window spilled out into the darkness, adding festive illumination to the cul-de-sac. Owen’s Noblis stood proudly on his front lawn. Owen had got a new four-wheel drive for Christmas and had spent a lot of time sitting in it making calls on his car phone. ‘He’d got it cheap because it was an end of year model,’ Bill remarked, grinning when he’d seen it.
A Gift to You Page 5