City Lives

by Patricia Scanlan

‘You did what?’ shrieked Maggie.

  ‘I asked them to stay for a week.’

  ‘You asked the Al Shariffs to stay for a week at Christmas?’ Maggie couldn’t believe her ears.

  ‘It’s no big deal, Maggie. What’s got into you?’ Terry rasped.

  ‘I’ve got a book to finish. That’s what’s got into me. I don’t need two adults and two kids foisted on me at Christmas. I’ll have enough on my hands, for God’s sake. What made you do it? The least you could have done was to discuss it with me, Terry.’

  ‘You weren’t here for fuck’s sake. He asked me straight out.’

  In view of her mood, Terry omitted to tell Maggie that Sulaiman had asked only to stay for a day or two.

  ‘What could I say? They were always very hospitable to us when we were in Saudi.’

  ‘It’s easy to be hospitable in Saudi when you’ve got two housemen and a chef, Terry,’ Maggie raged. ‘Where are we going to put them all? They’ll have their maid with them as well.’

  ‘Naw they won’t,’ Terry blustered.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Terry! Alma Al Shariff is not going to go anywhere without her maid. The maid always travels with the family. Otherwise Alma’d have to mind the kids and can you see her doing that?’ Maggie demanded sarcastically.

  ‘Oh! Oh I suppose not,’ Terry muttered.

  ‘I can’t believe this.’ Maggie put her head in her hands. Five people landed in on top of her. Christmas was mad enough as it was. She’d never get her book finished. She’d have to bring Alma shopping. She’d have to cook morning noon and night. How could Terry have done this to her?

  ‘You can bloody well take a week’s holiday. I’m not looking after them by myself for the whole time they’re here,’ she said truculently.

  ‘I can’t do that, Maggie.’ Terry was aghast. ‘I can take a half-day here and there.’

  ‘You can take a goddamn week, buster, and that’s the end of it. This has nothing to do with me. You issued the invitation. You take responsibility for it. I’m not dealing with it all by myself. I’m telling you that right now.’ Maggie marched out of the sitting-room and slammed the door behind her.

  As if her life wasn’t hectic enough, she fumed, as she thundered upstairs and flung herself on her bed. What kind of a total idiot was she married to? Typical Terry to issue an invitation to the Al Shariffs and to leave her to look after them.

  And it wasn’t as if they were the easiest house guests in the world. They’d stayed with Terry and Maggie for a week a couple of years ago, and they’d expected to be entertained. Life in the Al Shariff lane was frantic and frenetic. Sulaiman was like a blue-arsed fly. Fidgety and restless, he couldn’t sit down for a minute but always had to be on the go. They weren’t the types who could curl up with a book and relax for an hour or two. And the kids were as bad. A boy and a girl, seven and four respectively, Maggie hadn’t seen them for a year. Hopefully a year had made a difference, she thought glumly, because they’d been spoilt rotten the last time she’d encountered the darlings.

  A day or two she could have coped with. But a week!! This was a nightmare.

  Michael would have to go into the girls’ bedroom. The maid and the kids could have his room. And Sulaiman and Alma would have the guest-room.

  She’d have to get two fold-up beds. She’d have to get all her Christmas shopping done early, so that she wouldn’t be stuck with that. And she’d have to try and do a big cook-up and freeze some meals so that she wouldn’t be spending all her time in the kitchen. Maggie lay on the bed, her thoughts racing. She was tired after her day in Wicklow, although Nelsie had been appreciative. She’d enjoyed her day immensely, she’d told Maggie. It was as good as a holiday, she’d announced.

  It had been after nine when they got home. The kids went straight to bed, flaked out after all the fresh air. She’d made herself a cup of coffee and was just about to settle down and watch Kenny Live when Terry’d made his proclamation. She could throttle him, she thought savagely. Stupid, thick, gobshite. Well, he could take that week off at Christmas or she’d make his life hell. And he could bloody well stay at home and mind the kids tomorrow night. She was going over to Devlin’s come hell or high water. Devlin had left a message on the mobile and when she’d called back her best friend had invited her over for dinner and a girls’ night out.

  A girls’ night out was just what she needed, because if she didn’t unburden to someone she’d burst. Thank God for friends like Devlin and Caroline. They kept her sane, she reflected, as she slid off the bed and started to undress. She was going to have an early night and if Terry had any sense he’d sleep on the sofa if he wanted to keep his goolies intact, because a good hard kick to them would give her a great deal of satisfaction right this minute.

  Thirteen

  ‘Take care of yourself, Devlin, I’ll see you soon. Good luck in Galway. Have fun tonight. I’ll ring later.’ Luke hugged Devlin tighily at the departure gate. Then he was gone, his broad-shouldered figure disappearing into the security area, leaving Devlin with a pang of loneliness that was always there when he flew to London without her. Today she felt particularly lonely. Probably because she was pregnant and her hormones were up in a heap, she decided, as she walked forlornly back along the concourse.

  Luke hadn’t wanted her to come to the airport, but she hated the idea of him getting a taxi when she could so easily drive him and spend a few more precious minutes in his company. Besides, it was Sunday and the traffic was light, so it had only taken fifteen minutes to get there.

  She brightened up as she drove out of the car park. The girls were coming for dinner. They’d been delighted with her invitation. Caroline had news for her. She was dying to hear it. And Maggie was going to bring the latest batch of pages from her new novel. It was a great read so far.

  She was doing a salmon and pasta dish for the main course. That would only take twenty minutes to prepare, and she’d serve it with a Caesar salad. She had spare ribs in plum sauce for starters. Pecan pie smothered in cream and ice-cream would slide down gently for afters, Devlin thought with satisfaction as she got into lane to pay the parking fee.

  An hour later she had all her preparations made. The ribs were ready to pop in the oven, the salmon flaked, to be added to the cream sauce. The dill was chopped for garnish. Wine was chilling although she wouldn’t be drinking any of it, she thought regretfully. A glass of chilled wine would go down a treat but she’d wait until her three months were up before indulging in the odd glass. She’d share a bottle of Amé with Caroline.

  She put the finishing touches to the table and decided to read the Sunday supplements in a nice, frothy, warm, scented bath. Devlin spent a lazy hour relaxing in a lavender-and-rose-oil-perfumed bath that left her pleasantly lethargic.

  She dressed in a pair of black palazzo pants and a cream silk shirt and having brushed her blond bob and traced Wild Rose lipstick over her mouth, she padded out to the kitchen in her bare feet. She loved being barefoot. It always made her feel as though she was off duty.

  She was just finishing the sauce for the pasta when the doorbell rang and she hurried to press the intercom to let the girls into the foyer. Moments later Maggie and Caroline stood at her door, grinning.

  ‘I collected Caroline en route,’ Maggie said as she enveloped Devlin in a hug. ‘You look stunning! What are you up to?’ She stood back and stared at her friend.

  ‘Me? Nothing.’ Devlin feigned innocence. ‘Hi, Caroline. Come in and tell me what your news is before I burst. This brat told me on the phone that she had news that would put the cat among the pigeons and then she hung up without telling me what it was. Was that cruel or what?’ Devlin asked Maggie as she took their coats.

  ‘Spill the beans, Caro,’ Maggie ordered as they trooped into the lounge.

  ‘It’s a bit of a damp squib at this stage,’ Caroline sighed as she dropped into a big soft luxurious armchair and kicked off her shoes. ‘Richard was going to sell the firm, he was putting it up for sale tomorr
ow. He was going to move to Boston and we were going to get a divorce and start afresh but Ma Yates went ballistic when he told her and she came haring over to have a go at me. I lost my cool and gave her a piece of my mind and ordered her out of the apartment and the old biddy went and had a massive heart attack ten minutes later. And now Richard’s blaming me and everything’s on hold and the gossip columnists will have to wait for their field day.’ She pulled a face.

  ‘Well, the old bitch,’ Maggie declared. ‘Isn’t that just typical of her?’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ Devlin exclaimed. ‘What are her chances?’

  ‘She’s still in the danger period and another heart attack could kill her—’

  ‘Would you be so lucky?’ Maggie interrupted.

  ‘Believe me, Maggie, I’ve had that thought myself,’ Caroline said grimly. ‘Anyway, if she survives she has to have a bypass and Richard says he won’t do anything until she’s OK. Which, knowing my mother-in-law, will be never. She’ll milk this until the day she dies. She’ll use it to bind Richard even tighter and she’ll fill him with so much guilt he’ll never take the risk of upsetting her again. And in the meantime, I’m in limbo. I’ll never get a divorce from him while she’s alive. And she’ll live until she’s a hundred just to spite us.’

  ‘Go for the divorce yourself,’ Devlin suggested as she handed her a glass of Amé and handed Maggie a glass of chilled white wine.

  ‘Yeah I know, but he might contest it and it will take ages, whereas before Mrs Yates had the heart attack we’d agreed to go ahead – it would have gone through in a few months. I just needed this like I need a hole in the head.’

  ‘Caroline, as you’re always saying to me . . . rise above it,’ Maggie said dryly.

  ‘Am I always saying that to you, Maggie?’ Caroline grinned.

  ‘Yeah! And don’t forget, Mrs Yates is a spiritual being, and you have lessons to learn from her. No man is my friend. No man is my enemy. Every man is my teacher. Isn’t that right?’ Maggie had a wicked twinkle in her eye.

  ‘Are you hoisting me by my own petard, by any chance?’ Caroline arched an eyebrow.

  ‘I sure am, honey. Now you see why I find it hard to understand when you come out with that kind of stuff. How can you possibly think anything other than that your mother-in-law is the greatest wagon going?’

  ‘Because, Maggie, whether I like it or not, she was created by The Divine. She has the spark of The Divine in her the same as you and I. In the eyes of God she is your equal and my equal and she is perfect,’ Caroline explained earnestly, forgetting for a moment that just a while back she’d wished Sarah dead.

  ‘Bullshit, Caroline, she’s an interfering, manipulative old woman who is thoroughly selfish and you’ve said that yourself many times. You can’t have your cake and eat it. She can’t be perfect and selfish and manipulative at the same time. And what’s more I object strongly to being considered her equal—’

  ‘Now girls, don’t fight!’ Devlin murmured. She’d listened to many such arguments in the past and always enjoyed them.

  ‘We’re not fighting, Devlin, we’re discussing spirituality,’ Caroline said calmly. ‘And OK, Maggie, yes I’ve called her names and thought badly of her but that’s not a reflection on her, that’s a reflection on me. That’s me being judgemental. The worst thing you can possibly be. It’s something I’m trying to change. With great difficulty, I hasten to add.’

  ‘But Caroline, no-one could live like that. It’s totally impossible to live in this world and not judge people. What do you do, let her walk all over you?’

  ‘No, you always have to respect yourself and your own dignity, Maggie, but for me to think of Mrs Yates as a spiritual being helps me to detach a little from her actions. Something I haven’t been doing this weekend. Thank you for reminding me. I’ll try and “rise above it”.’ Caroline smiled at her friend.

  ‘I give up, Caro.’ Maggie took a slug of her wine. ‘I don’t understand any of it. At the moment if I were to rise above my little problems I’d need a couple of dozen mega-sized helium balloons at least.’

  ‘Why, what’s bugging you?’ Devlin stretched out on the sofa.

  ‘What’s bugging me!’ Maggie exclaimed theatrically. ‘Do you know what that thick idiot of a husband of mine did yesterday?’

  ‘What?’ Devlin and Caroline asked simultaneously.

  ‘He invited Alma and Sulaiman Al Shariff, their two obnoxious kids and their maid to stay with us for a week at Christmas.’

  ‘Crikey!’ exclaimed Devlin. ‘What possessed him?’

  ‘Possessed him is right. And I suppose he’s a great spirit too.’ She threw a glance at Caroline, who giggled.

  ‘He says that Sulaiman phoned and asked could they stay en route to the States. They’re not staying in Saudi for Christmas because it’s Ramadan. He could have said that we were going away or that we were having other guests, but you know Terry. He thinks it’s a great idea. I mean I’ve only got a book to finish,’ Maggie complained mournfully. ‘And on top of all that, my editor, Marcy Elliot, phoned me to tell me that she’s leaving Enterprise Publishing and I think she’s got some news for me that I’m not going to like. I’m meeting her next week. Caroline, my life is a shambles, “rising above it” is not an option.’

  ‘Well, Maggs, that all depends on how you look at it. All I can say is that during the worst times in my life there was some help available to me, even though I didn’t know it at the time. It’s only when I look back I see how much I was helped. Maybe your new editor will be a stepping-stone to greater things. Who knows? Maybe the Al Shariffs’ visit will give you reams of material for a new book. You could call it Entertaining Old Friends,’ she teased.

  ‘Remember the party you had for them the last time they stayed and Alma got into a rip-roaring row with Adrian McNulty about politics?’ Devlin grinned.

  ‘Oh God!’ Maggie groaned. ‘Don’t remind me. I had a week of political lectures from the pair of them. They don’t discuss politics with you, they harangue you. It’s very wearing and mighty rude. Oh Lordy, I’d forgotten what it was like, thanks for reminding me. And if you dare tell me that they’re great spirits with something to teach me, Caroline Yates, I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.’

  ‘Ah stay calm, Maggie,’ Caroline soothed. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help just let me know.’

  ‘Me too,’ Devlin put in.

  ‘Thanks. I’ll be on the phone every night getting it off my chest.’

  ‘Bring Alma into City Girl for a few treatments,’ Devlin suggested.

  ‘Good idea,’ Maggie brightened up. ‘That would suit her down to the ground. Thanks, Dev, I’ll do that.’

  ‘You could come up to my office and get a couple of pages written while she’s having her massages and whatever.’

  ‘Hey, Dev, that would be brilliant. I could leave Terry and Sulaiman to mind the kids, have a couple of hours of peace to write while she’s having her beauty bits done and still feel I’m entertaining her. Delaney, you’re a genius!’ She held up her glass in toast to her friend.

  Devlin raised hers. ‘See! Caroline was right. There’s always someone there to help in your hour of need.’

  ‘Don’t you start,’ Maggie warned. ‘Do you want another glass of wine?’

  ‘Er . . . no. I’m going to serve. Come on out to the kitchen,’ Devlin said hastily. She’d been drinking Amé, Maggie hadn’t noticed.

  ‘It smells delicious. I’m starving.’ Maggie sniffed appreciatively.

  ‘Me too,’ echoed Caroline as she uncoiled herself from her chair.

  ‘Light the candles, Caroline, and plonk your ass. Maggie, fill your glass,’ Devlin instructed as she took the succulent juicy ribs from the oven.

  ‘They look scrumptious,’ Maggie enthused as she topped up her glass. ‘Here, let me fill yours.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Devlin murmured as she served out the ribs. Now that they were here she was waiting for an appropriate moment to tell t
hem that she was pregnant.

  ‘Devlin Delaney, I’ve never heard you refuse a glass of wine bef—’ Maggie stopped in mid-sentence and stared at her friend.

  ‘I knew it. I knew there was something different about you. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?’

  Devlin blushed to her roots and started to laugh. Caroline jumped up from her chair and hugged Devlin tightly.

  ‘Devlin! Devlin, I’m so happy for you.’

  ‘Oh Devlin—’ Maggie couldn’t say any more. Tears welled in her eyes as she stood beside her friend.

  ‘Oh don’t start me off,’ Devlin pleaded, as a lump the size of a melon formed in her throat.

  ‘Sorry,’ sniffled Maggie, who was as soft as butter. ‘I’m so glad. Is Luke over the moon?’

  Devlin nodded. She couldn’t speak as she stood encircled in the arms of her two best friends.

  ‘Oh look at us!’ Maggie laughed and cried at the same time.

  ‘When’s the baby due?’ Caroline asked.

  ‘May. I’m only a few weeks gone.’ Devlin wiped her eyes. ‘You’re the first to know. I was dying to tell you. But I’m not saying anything at work. I want to wait until the three months are up.’

  ‘May is a lovely time to have a baby. It will be nice and hardy and in a routine by the time winter comes. Trust me, I know these things.’ Maggie carried the plates to the table. ‘Sit down and let’s tuck in. The joy of sitting down to a meal that I haven’t cooked.’

  Devlin toyed with a piece of lettuce.

  ‘Don’t say you’re queasy,’ Maggie said sympathetically as she forked some meat and ate it with relish.

  ‘No . . . no. It’s not that. It’s just . . . oh girls, I’m scared.’ She put her fork down.

  ‘Of what, Dev?’ Caroline reached over and took her hand.

  ‘You’ve been pregnant before, Dev. You know what it’s like,’ Maggie soothed.

  ‘No, it’s not that. I’m just afraid something will happen. I suppose it’s because Lynn died on me. I’m afraid to be happy. I don’t want to say it to Luke. He’s so chuffed I don’t want to spoil it for him. It’s crazy, isn’t it.’