City Lives

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Mother, for God’s sake! A phase is what teenagers go through. I’m in my thirties, for crying out loud.’ Richard was so exasperated he wanted to shake Sarah. ‘I’m saying it once more. I’m selling up and emigrating. And Caroline and I are divorcing.’ He glared at his mother.

  ‘After all I did for you? I reared you single-handedly. I sent you to college. I gave you the money to set you up. You’re an ingrate, Richard. A selfish uncaring son, ready to drag our good name through the gutter. What will the relations think? What will the neighbours say? What will all your father’s respected friends think? And how will I manage when you’ve . . . emigrated? I’m an elderly woman . . . alone.’ Sarah was incandescent.

  Something snapped in Richard. For years she’d made him feel guilty, throwing it up in his face that she’d reared him on her own. She was a wealthy woman. Her husband had left her well provided for. And the money for setting him up in a practice had come from his own inheritance, something his mother always conveniently forgot. All his life he’d had to put up with her emotional blackmail. No more!

  He walked over to the door, turned and stared coldly at his mother.

  ‘You can keep your money. I don’t need it. And as for what you’re going to do when I’m gone, I don’t give a tuppenny damn.’

  ‘Where are you going? Come back here. I’m not finished with you yet, Richard. Don’t you dare walk out on me.’

  ‘I’m going into town to buy myself another suitcase. I’ll need it for all I’m bringing with me to America. Because I won’t be coming back!’

  He slammed the door so hard Sarah’s collection of Aynsley fine bone china rattled from the vibration.

  Richard walked out of his mother’s house and felt exuberant. The worm had turned. He felt strong. He’d faced down his mother for the first time in his life. He hadn’t had to bite back the words and suffer agonies of resentment and frustration. He’d said what he wanted to say. It was better than winning his first case. He wasn’t her pawn any more. He wasn’t tied to her apron strings. He was separate. Free. Her equal. She had no power over him. The feeling was indescribable. It was the best day of his life.

  ‘My God. My God. My Lord and my God help me in my hour of need,’ Sarah prayed fervently, her fingers trembling as she pressed them to her lips.

  This was a nightmare. What had become of her well-mannered, cultured, obedient son? It was her! Sarah knew it. That daughter-in-law was a curse on the Yates family. She had done this to Richard.

  Sarah sat bolt upright. She was going to see Madame Caroline. By the time she was finished with her, she’d be a very sorry young woman. And over Sarah’s dead body would Richard sell his firm and emigrate to America.

  Eight

  ‘Mrs Gleeson?’ Sarah tried to keep the tremor out of her voice as she called to her housekeeper, who was upstairs. So Richard was going into town. That meant that Madame Caroline would be at home alone. That was if she wasn’t out gadding somewhere. Or drinking! Sarah’s nostrils flared.

  ‘Yes Mrs Yates?’ Hannah Gleeson bustled into the room with a bottle of Pledge in one hand and a duster in the other.

  ‘I need you to drive me somewhere. Leave that and get your coat,’ Sarah ordered imperiously.

  ‘Oh now, Mrs Yates, I’ll be leaving at one sharp, today. You know I always have to leave on time on Saturdays. I go to my daughter’s for lunch and—’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know all that,’ Sarah snapped. ‘I’m not going far, just down to my son’s penthouse on the sea front. We’ll be back within the hour or sooner.’

  ‘Very well, ma’am,’ Mrs Gleeson muttered with bad grace. She had planned to get the upstairs rooms polished this morning. She didn’t like it when her routine was upset. Especially her Saturday morning routine.

  Sarah dismissed her with a bossy wave and hurried upstairs to prepare herself for the meeting with her daughter-in-law. That girl was as common as muck and always had been. Sarah had known from the start that she wasn’t right for Richard. He’d needed someone from his own social milieu. Someone who could hold her own in company. Someone who could command respect in society. He could have had the cream of the crop. Mothers had done novenas that her Richard might marry their daughters. Sarah could think of half a dozen perfectly suitable young women who’d all wanted to marry him. Barristers’ daughters. Bankers’ daughters. Consultants’ daughters. But no, he’d chosen that little gold-digger from Marino. Her father was a maths teacher. He knew his sums all right, Sarah thought sourly. He could see dollar signs as far as Richard was concerned. Sarah was no fool. She knew.

  She’d warned Richard. But would he listen?

  Well, he was sorry now that he hadn’t taken his mother’s advice. All this nonsense about being a homosexual was just that . . . nonsense. If he had a proper wife there’d be none of that. How could he want to have marital relations with a woman who was a hardened drinker? It was quite understandable that he’d be repulsed. A drunken woman was a deeply revolting sight. Sarah gave a little shudder. And even if she’d stopped drinking as she’d claimed to, the damage was done.

  But it was too late to be crying over spilt milk. He’d made his bed and he could lie on it. They’d have to get on with it. That was the trouble with young people today. They gave up far too easily. This divorce business was all her idea. Sarah knew it. Whatever hold she had over Richard, he jumped to her every whim. Well, this was one whim where Caroline Yates was not getting her own way, Sarah decided as she dabbed Max Factor’s Twilight Glow over her reddened cheeks.

  Caroline had a hold over Richard all right. And Sarah was going to use that to her own advantage. She snapped shut her compact, dabbed some L’Air du Temps on her wrists, traced some Coral Rose across her thin lips, ran her mother-of-pearl-handled comb through her fine white hair and nodded at her reflection in the mirror. She was a lady to her fingertips. Something Madame Caroline would never be. Today was a day for her fur, she decided. There was nothing as intimidating as fur to little hussies who came from nowhere and thought they were someone.

  ‘Mrs Gleeson?’ she called. ‘Get my fur and my Chanel handbag, quickly if you please. I’m ready to leave.’

  ‘Oh are ye, yer ladyship, yer Royal Highness,’ the housekeeper muttered sotto voce down in the kitchen as she shook a fist skywards and made a face. It would be a happy day when she could tell the old bat to stuff her job but the money was good, higher than the odds, probably because Sarah Yates was such a briar to work for. Hannah shook her head sorrowfully. Her daughter’s husband had left her with a small baby, to shack up with a slag with margarine legs and Hannah needed all the money she could get right now to help out. But the day would come and she’d let rip on Sarah Yates before she went.

  ‘Coming, Mrs Yates,’ she said in her best-butter-wouldn’t-melt voice as she hurried to do as she was bid.

  ‘I’d love a girls’ night, Devlin. I’ve loads to tell you. If you’re off to Galway on Monday I won’t see much of you at work, so tomorrow night’s fine. Is it OK for Maggie?’ Caroline doodled on a pad as she spoke to her best friend.

  ‘I’m trying to get her. The answering machine’s on at home and I keep getting divert on her mobile. Anyway even if she can’t come, you come and we’ll have a good natter. Luke’s flying to London tomorrow evening because he’s got to be in Brighton early on Monday so he won’t be able to slag us about our gossiping.’ Devlin laughed.

  Caroline smiled. Luke was always teasing them about their capacity for gossip. He was so different from Richard. So secure in himself. So loving to Devlin. Would she ever find a man like that? A man who would love her completely. Depression hovered. ‘Well, I have some news for you that will give the gossips a field day,’ she said, keeping her tone light.

  ‘Oohh . . . don’t keep me waiting. Tell me,’ Devlin reproached.

  ‘It will keep. See you tomorrow then.’

  ‘That’s cruelty. I’ll see you around seven. Bye Caroline,’ Devlin hung up.

  Caroline replaced the p
hone gently in the cradle. Devlin sounded so bubbly and happy. She envied her deeply. Not in a nasty way. She loved Devlin. It was just that her friend’s happiness and joy in her marriage showed such a lack in her own life. She’d married Richard so she wouldn’t be left on the shelf. She’d made do. And it had been a disaster. Since she’d come home from Abu Dhabi she’d made do again. Settling for safety and security and half a life. Well, she was sick of it. Sick of being a coward. Sick of being alone. Sick of no sex life, sick of knowing that she was in her mid-thirties and childless.

  But was it all too late now? All the men of her own age, should she ever find one, would be married. The separated ones would have lots of baggage . . . like she had. Her sell-by date was gone, she thought mournfully as depression invaded every pore.

  ‘What’s wrong with you? Don’t be such a bloody drip. Stop whinging and feeling sorry for yourself.’ Caroline raged aloud at herself. She was such a wimp she drove herself mad. Where was all the positive stuff? All the I-Can-Survive stuff. All the We-Need-To-Make-A-Clean-Break stuff. Why had all her optimism deserted her just when she needed it most? She was a fine one to be lecturing Richard. Hadn’t she even said to him that she wasn’t looking for a man? And half believed it. She’d read so many self-help and spiritual books recommended by counsellors and other alcoholics at her AA meetings. The message was always the same. Peace and happiness comes from within. Entering relationships for the ‘wrong’ reasons – out of neediness like she had – to end loneliness, to recover from a previous relationship, to have a sex life, would never bring fulfilment. There’d always be searching and wanting, just like she was searching and wanting now.

  But how did you find that longed-for ‘peace within’? Caroline mused. Would she ever not be needy? How did you change a lifetime pattern? When she read the self-help and spiritual books she was always fired with good intentions and would find herself practising positive thinking for a while. But then, when times got tough, like now, she’d slip back into her old ways of negativity and fear.

  ‘Come on, you’ve come a long way, stop being so hard on yourself,’ she murmured as she walked into the bathroom. It was only to be expected that the decision to divorce would make her feel down. She still had to tell her father and brothers, although she knew that they wouldn’t take it half as badly as her mother-in-law. No doubt Richard had by now told his mother about the divorce. Sarah Yates was one person she’d be glad to see the back of. She was a bitter old pill. She was probably freaking to think that the family name was going to be disgraced by a divorce. Good enough for her, Caroline thought uncharitably. She hoped to God that Richard hadn’t lost his nerve. The woman had to be told one way or another. The sooner this was all over the better.

  He was going into town to get another suitcase and he’d told her that he’d have lunch in Temple Bar, so she was at a bit of a loose end. Maybe she’d go for a walk down on the Bull Wall. She liked that walk. It always calmed her. She’d have a shower, get dressed, and clear her head with a walk. She had just slipped out of her towelling robe when the doorbell chimed.

  She wasn’t expecting callers. It could hardly be Devlin, who lived in the apartment block opposite. She’d just spoken to her on the phone. Caroline pulled on her robe again and hurried out to the video intercom. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw her mother-in-law standing on the steps.

  ‘Oh shit!’ she muttered.

  ‘I know you’re there, Caroline, I can see your car. Open up and let me in,’ Sara snapped into the intercom.

  Caroline, who hadn’t lifted the handset, couldn’t hear her, but could just see Sarah’s lips moving furiously. She dithered. It would be so easy not to answer the door. Not to have to deal with the confrontation that was inevitable. But she’d have to face the woman sometime. Sarah would never let it go. She’d be like a dog with a bone until she’d had her say. She might as well get it over and done with. Caroline took a deep breath.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Yates. I’ll send the lift down to you,’ she said calmly into the handset.

  ‘Be quick about it. I’m not used to being left standing on doorsteps,’ her mother-in-law hissed.

  ‘Oh, Lord!’ Caroline groaned as she pressed the button that would send the penthouse lift gliding silently downwards. She wished she was dressed. A towelling dressing-gown was not the thing to wear when one was going to have a confrontation with a perfectly groomed and turned-out mother-in-law.

  Her mouth was dry so she rushed into the kitchen and took a big gulp of water before going to the front door. The gates of the lift were just swishing open as Caroline opened her door.

  ‘I want a word with you,’ Sarah stalked past her, wasting no time on social greetings.

  Caroline closed the door quietly and turned to face her.

  ‘Do sit down, Mrs Yates. Can I get you some tea?’ she said politely, determined not to be ruffled.

  ‘Indeed and I don’t want tea, thank you. My son arrived at my house not more than half an hour ago to inform me that you and he are to divorce and that he’s emigrating to America. Well I’m here to inform you, madam, that the Yates name will not be sullied by divorce. And I will not allow my son to ruin his life and his career and give up everything he’s worked for just because you want out. You are going to talk him out of this madness before it goes any further. I always knew you weren’t right for Richard. He married you against my wishes. You got what you wanted. Marriage is for life. And I don’t care how you do it, but you had better talk Richard out of this reckless foolishness immediately. Do you hear me, Caroline?’ Sarah demanded. Her voice shook with anger. Her cheeks were an ugly mottled red.

  Caroline felt sick. She wasn’t good at confrontation. And Sarah Yates was a very intimidating woman. A master of manipulation, a controlling emotional blackmailer. The very worst sort of bully. The only way to deal with bullies was to face up to them. She took a deep breath.

  ‘And if I don’t do as you say, Mrs Yates?’ Her voice was admirably calm, giving no clue to the tightly coiled knots in her stomach or the sweatiness of her palms.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Sarah was taken aback at the quietly issued challenge.

  ‘If I don’t do as you . . . order . . . what are you going to do?’

  ‘Now you listen to me, my girl. If you go ahead with this course of action, Richard will be ruined. He’ll end up penniless. I’ll cut him out of my will. Do you want that on your conscience? Can you live with the knowledge that you, and you alone, are responsible for wrecking a man’s life?’ Sarah’s eyes were like flints.

  She really was a cold, malicious bitch, Caroline thought, horrified. To think that she’d cut her only child out of her will. Anger ripped through her. She wasn’t taking all Sarah Yates’s crap on board. She’d enough problems to deal with in her own life.

  ‘You listen to me, you horrible, selfish, despicable woman, don’t you dare speak to me about my conscience. You should look at your own . . . if you can . . . and get down on your knees and apologize to Richard for what you’ve done to him. You’ve fucked up his head so badly he doesn’t know who he is. How dare you come to my home and speak to me the way you just have? I’m entitled to respect. Any human being is and you’ve shown none to me or Richard. We’ll deal with our marriage and our lives as we see fit and not because of anything you say or do. Now get out, Mrs Yates, and don’t you ever come near me again.’

  ‘Oh . . . Oh . . . I . . . I’ve never heard . . . Well . . . I . . . such language . . .’ Sarah stuttered.

  ‘There’s a lot more where that came from, believe me. Out . . . now!’ Caroline marched over to the door and flung it open.

  Sarah couldn’t believe her ears or her eyes.

  ‘I wouldn’t stay here to be insulted by the likes of you,’ she managed to sputter, drawing her fur coat around her as she tried to regain her dignity. ‘You’re a little slut. Look at you . . . not even dressed at this hour of the morning,’ was her quavering parting shot.

  Caroli
ne watched her mother-in-law step into the lift. ‘Goodbye and good riddance,’ she gritted as the doors closed and it began its descent. She felt utterly drained but at the same time a sense of elation began to bubble within. She’d spoken her piece. She hadn’t submitted to bullying. She’d faced down her mother-in-law. She’d turned the situation around and taken control of it and Sarah was the one who was left floundering. Best of all . . . she’d never have to see the old wagon again. Whatever doubts she had about the divorce, one thing was certain. Sarah had just put the iron in Caroline’s soul. This was one battle that malignant, appalling woman was not going to win. With a determined jut to her jaw, Caroline went back into the bathroom and stood under the steaming jets of water. She felt she was washing Sarah Yates’s dark vicious energy down the plug-hole and out of her life.

  ‘Drive me home,’ Sarah ordered as she got into the car. She was incandescent with rage. How dare that cheap, slutty, ill-mannered hussy speak to her like that? She had never been spoken to like that in all her life. It was shocking.

  Sarah trembled in the front seat of the car. Things had not gone at all to plan. A cold fear gripped her heart. What would she do if Richard left for America? And if they got divorced, it would be in the papers. Richard was very high-profile. The family name would be disgraced. All the neighbours and relations would know. She’d never be able to hold her head up.

  A sensation in her chest, like a vice getting tighter and tighter, made her gasp. Blackness enveloped her. Sarah gave a little moan and slumped forward.

  ‘Holy God! The old bat’s snuffed it!’ Hannah Gleeson squawked in terror as she came to a screeching halt amidst a cacophony of beeping horns.

  Nine

  Caroline breathed deeply the salty tangy fresh air as she strode briskly down the woodenworks of the Bull Wall. It was cold and windy. She didn’t care. It was just what she needed to clear her head of the lethargy and depression that had invaded her. She’d had a leisurely shower and a cup of coffee and croissants before she’d left, and that had perked her up.