Mirror, Mirror

by Patricia Scanlan

  It didn’t surprise Alexandra that Chris had a love child . . . she was surprised that there weren’t a few more. Chris had always been a womaniser. It was surprising that he’d lasted so long in his marriage without cheating. If Suzy had copped on to herself and handled him the way he should be handled, he might even still be faithful. In a way, though, it was good that Suzy thought Chris was having an affair with that woman out in the sticks. She’d never ever think of suspecting Alexandra.

  Alexandra didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about her affair with Chris. If it wasn’t her, it would be someone else. That was life. Suzy needed to grow up. She’d always been far too inclined to feel sorry for herself. She had so much. A lovely house, two children, an idyllic lifestyle, kept by and provided for by Chris. She didn’t have to pay her own mortgage or support herself and work like a Trojan day in day out like Alexandra did. Suzy needed a good kick in the butt, Alexandra thought irritably.

  She’d boot Chris out when she was good and ready. Their affair meant nothing. She’d never love someone as weak as him. But for the time being he had his uses. It was a diversion she was enjoying and the sex was super.

  Suzy walked slowly upstairs into her bedroom. It wasn’t her fault that Chris was having an affair. It was very mean of Alexandra to imply that it was. Alexandra just didn’t understand what it was like being married and having children. She couldn’t be a dolly-bird the way she used to be before she had the twins. She shouldn’t have to be a dolly-bird. She was Chris’s wife. He’d made a commitment to her on their wedding day and she’d made a commitment to him. She’d been a good wife, she didn’t have to defend her behaviour to anyone.

  Suzy stood in front of her dressing-table mirror and studied her reflection. Blonde hair down to her shoulders. Her fringe, too long, brushed tired green eyes. A fine web of lines, lightly grooved, curving around her eyes and mouth caused her heart to sink. She was starting to age. No longer a fresh young woman. She looked pale. Well, of course she did, Suzy thought angrily. She was so full of anger, resentment and suspicion, she couldn’t sleep properly. Her trauma was showing in her face and she cursed Chris for it.

  Chris had told her when he got home in the early hours that he’d taken a client to a night club. How many nights had he used that tired old excuse or the one about working late in the office? Did he think she was a fool? She’d had enough of this crap, Suzy decided as she listened to the happy yells of the twins playing Tarzan downstairs in the dining-room. It was time to do something about this torment and misery that her life had become. She had to know one way or another if Chris was having an affair. There was no point in asking him any more. He just kept denying it. She’d have to deal with it some other way. She’d just have to catch him in the act with that woman in Glenree.

  Chapter Four

  Ellen, Miriam and Denise McMahon stood in a semicircle around Ellen’s kitchen table studying the architect’s plans for The Deli. The excitement was mighty. To see their hopes and dreams down on paper in a most attractive plan made it all very real.

  ‘Doug says he can have it ready in a couple of months. We’re going to be open for Christmas,’ Ellen beamed.

  ‘I can’t believe it.’ Miriam stared at the drawing on the table. ‘Do you really think we can make a go of it?’

  ‘Of course we can,’ Denise said firmly. ‘If the two old dears who ran the coffee shop made a living out of it, I don’t see how we can fail. Glenree needs something a bit more upmarket than the coffee shop and a bit less pricey than the Glenree Arms. Most people don’t want to have lunch in a hotel. They want to drop in somewhere and have something tasty and inexpensive to eat. Don’t say you’re going to chicken out before we even get going?’

  ‘No . . . no . . .’ Miriam said hastily. ‘I just have visions of us being left with loads of food or else running out of things.’

  ‘We’ll have to play it by ear and see how it goes. We’ll keep the menus fairly simple at first. If the business is there we can always expand. I think we should try and buy as much fresh produce as possible from the local farmers. It will save us having to go into Dublin at the crack of dawn to get to the market,’ Ellen interjected.

  ‘None of us would really be able to go to the market,’ Denise frowned. ‘You wouldn’t be able to leave Stephanie. I couldn’t leave the girls. You’d be stuck too, wouldn’t you, Miriam?’

  ‘Well, I suppose it would depend on Ben’s shift. As long as I was at home in time to let him go to work.’

  ‘No,’ Ellen said. ‘We can’t make life complicated for ourselves. We need to suit ourselves as much as we can. Tell you what?’ She grinned. ‘Let’s nip over to that new place in Swords and see how they’re getting on. We’ll have a cup of tea while we’re at it and work out a strategy. It’s only half ten. We’ve loads of time before the girls get out of school.’

  ‘You’re on.’ Denise was game.

  ‘Why not?’ Miriam agreed. ‘It’s research.’

  ‘You housewives have a great life,’ Ellen teased. Until very recently she had been the cashier in her father’s butcher’s shop. Now, having trained in someone new, she only did the books for him. The freedom to come and go as she pleased during the day was a rare treat.

  ‘We better make the most of it – we’re going to be career girls from now on,’ Denise retorted. ‘We won’t be able to go gadding over to Swords for coffee.’

  ‘No, we’ll probably end up being our own best customers,’ Ellen laughed as she locked the door after them.

  Twenty minutes later they were seated in a small tea room in Swords. There were a few other customers at various tables. Mostly elderly women.

  ‘The tables are very small,’ Miriam murmured.

  ‘And they’re too near each other. Too cramped.’ Ellen kept her voice down.

  ‘I like the china plates decorating the top of the window pelmets,’ Denise whispered.

  ‘Mmmm. The curtains are a bit psychedelic though.’ Miriam studied the menu. ‘They do a good selection of sandwiches.’

  ‘Sandwiches are boring,’ Ellen argued.

  ‘The service is very slow,’ Denise noted.

  They grinned. They were enjoying their little bitching session.

  By the time they left, they’d decided on table mats rather than tablecloths, to cut down on washing. They were adamant that they would never add packet soup to their home-made soups, after tasting the vegetable soup. Their tables were going to be spaced well apart to avoid a sense of claustrophobia. They were going to nick the pelmet idea. Miriam had suggested displaying old china teapots and brass kettles. The other two thought this was a great idea. They were well pleased with their foray. The more they prepared now the fewer mistakes they’d make when they were finally up and running, they assured each other confidently as they drove home to Glenree to get down to the mundane tasks of preparing dinner for their respective families.

  It was hard to settle down. Even her tan was fading. Emma felt depression settle on her like a cloud. A great, grey gloomy cloud just like the sullen skies that hung over Glenree.

  She was on her way home from seeing Andrew. He was getting bigger and stronger. That was a relief. When she’d seen him that first visit after getting back from France, it had been nice to cuddle and hold him. That had surprised Emma. She’d never had maternal feelings like that for Julie Ann. Looking back at the weeks and months that had followed her daughter’s birth, all Emma could remember were feelings of panic and fear in case anything should go wrong.

  The idea of having a nanny this time was most reassuring. Maybe that was why she was more relaxed with Andrew. To think she was a mother of two children! It made her feel so old. How nice it would have been to stay with Vincent in the South of France for a month. When would she ever get a proper holiday with him again? Years from now. She simply couldn’t ask Miriam to mind two children. And anyway Miriam was going to be working with Ellen in their café. Just as well she was getting a nanny – she wouldn’t be able to rel
y on her sister-in-law any more to mind Julie Ann.

  Emma thought Ellen and Miriam were mad to be taking on all the work that running a café involved. Especially Miriam. Hadn’t she enough on her hands with a husband and three children? It must be awful not to have enough money to enjoy a good lifestyle. Thank God Vincent was rich, Emma thought fervently as she drove along Main Street. She saw Ellen, Miriam and Denise McMahon getting out of Ellen’s car. They were all laughing uproariously looking not the slightest bit oppressed by their deprived lifestyles and lack of cash.

  The sight of the laughing trio depressed Emma even more. They all seemed to be having such fun. Her time for fun was over. The baby would be home from hospital soon. Lord knows how Julie Ann was going to react. All she could think about was giving poor little Andrew away. She’d thrown a sensational tantrum the day they came back from France when she’d informed them that she was giving Andrew to Stephanie.

  When Vincent had very gently told her that Andrew was not being given away to anyone she’d screeched, ‘But I want to be a saint. How’s anyone ever going to be a saint in this house when they’re not allowed give things away?’

  She had this thing about being a saint and growing a halo. Whatever were they teaching her at school? Her daughter’s religious fervour certainly wasn’t inherited from her, Emma thought wryly. She found it hard enough to go to Mass on Sundays. If it wasn’t to show good example to Julie Ann, Emma wouldn’t bother.

  She wondered what Ellen’s reaction had been when she’d heard that she was getting a present of Andrew. Emma glanced in her rear-view mirror and saw Ellen opening the door to her flat. Chris wouldn’t be a bit pleased to know that she was enjoying life. When he’d come to visit her in the hospital and poured his heart out to her, saying that he really loved Ellen, Emma had been truly stunned. To think after all these years he had come to the conclusion that it was Ellen he loved and not Suzy. It was such a mess. Poor Suzy. How awful to be married to a man who didn’t love her. Emma would die if she ever found out that Vincent didn’t love her. She adored him. He was the most wonderful husband.

  Emma knew how lucky she was. None of her friends had a husband as good as Vincent. In fact Diana Mackenzie’s husband was hardly ever home he worked so hard and Declan Mitchell had left Lorna for that little cat, Nina Monahan. And as for Frank, who was married to her best friend Gillian, he’d never in a million years change a baby’s nappy or cook a dinner the way Vincent often did. For Vincent’s sake she had to get out of her postnatal depression, Emma told herself firmly. Maybe they might get away for a weekend after Christmas. The nanny might agree to mind the two children for them. The thought cheered her up no end. Maybe she’d phone Chris and get him to meet her for lunch tomorrow. Her cousin always made her laugh. He was such good company, even if he was a stinker where women were concerned. Imagine him having a fling with Alexandra Johnston! He’d confessed that to her as well, when he’d brought champagne into the hospital that night.

  He really was something else, Emma thought, half-revolted, half-amused. Married to Suzy, in love with Ellen and having a fling with Glamour Girl Johnston. Emma wouldn’t be able to tell Vincent that she was having lunch with her cousin. Vincent hated his guts for what he’d done to Ellen. It was very awkward so the best way to deal with it was to say nothing. Emma had always stayed friends with Chris. They were mates and always had been. If there was one person guaranteed to cheer her up it was Chris. He was the perfect antidote to postnatal depression, Emma assured herself as she drove up the shrub-lined drive of her beautiful big house, the likes of which had never been seen in Glenree.

  ‘She was laughing and joking!’ Chris was aghast. Emma had just informed him that she’d seen Ellen yesterday, looking like a million dollars, laughing and joking with her friends in Main Street.

  ‘Chris, you’d want to put Ellen out of your head. I bet she never even thinks of you now. She’s doing a steady line with that guy I was telling you about. He’s renovating her café,’ Emma said earnestly, her big brown eyes wide with concern.

  If only she knew the half of it, Chris thought wryly. He hadn’t told his cousin about his last visit to Ellen in Glenree. Emma had no idea how destroyed he really was.

  ‘Look, why don’t you end this thing with Alexandra and make a fresh start with Suzy?’ Emma advised. Chris knew she was enjoying her role as marriage counsellor and confidante.

  ‘Yeah, maybe,’ he said wearily.

  ‘I’ve some brilliant gossip for you.’ Emma’s eyes twinkled.

  ‘What?’ Chris grinned. Emma was great fun.

  ‘Guess who Vincent and I saw canoodling in Nice?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘John Carey and Elaine Pender. Can you believe it? They nearly died when they saw us.’

  ‘Well, well, well! Mister-Family-Values himself. What a bloody hypocrite. At least I don’t go around preaching about being the great family man the way he does. I thought Elaine Pender was going out with his best friend for a while?’

  ‘She was. It’s all a bit sick. All that swapping around. How could she sleep with John after sleeping with Maurice?’ Emma’s gorgeous retroussé nose wrinkled in disdain. Then suddenly realising what she’d said and remembering Chris’s own entanglement with his wife’s best friend, she blushed.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Chris . . . well, it’s – it’s . . . I don’t know.’

  ‘Easier than you think,’ Chris said dryly.

  ‘Guess who was caught with his hand in the till by his boss?’ He changed the subject.

  ‘Who?’ Emma’s jaw dropped satisfyingly.

  ‘Desmond McMurrogh.’

  ‘Wow!’ Emma was gobsmacked by this magnificently juicy titbit. ‘Gayle won’t be swanning around in her Chanel suits any more. How did it happen? Tell me all.’

  They spent two hours having a wonderful catchup and Chris really enjoyed himself for the first time in ages. As they finished coffee, he said quietly, ‘Do you really think Ellen is serious about this bloke?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Emma answered honestly.

  ‘Don’t you think I should try and get to know Stephanie? Do you not think it’s important for her?’ he asked, hoping against hope she’d agree.

  ‘Look, Chris, Stephanie has got by without you up until now. As far as I know she gets on very well with Doug. Leave them be. If Ellen marries him, Stephanie will have a father and there’ll be no complications.’

  ‘That’s not very fair on me,’ Chris said sulkily.

  ‘Try not to be more of a selfish bastard than you are, darling,’ Emma advised coolly. ‘I just don’t understand you. Years went by and you never asked about them even once. Why now?’

  ‘I’m getting soft in my old age.’ Chris tried to keep his tone light.

  ‘You soft. Ha! Go home to Suzy and the kids. Cop on to yourself, Chris. If she ever finds out about you and Alexandra, that’ll be the end of it. Suzy’s not the forgiving type.’

  ‘Well, she won’t find out unless you tell her,’ Chris frowned. ‘I keep my tracks well covered.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not going to tell her. I’m just warning you about what’ll happen if she ever does find out. You’ll be out on your charming ear,’ Emma retorted.

  ‘That’ll be the day.’ Chris snorted. Suzy might be unforgiving but she’d never kick him out. He was her meal ticket and anyway when all was said and done, poor old Suzy was crazy about him. That thought didn’t make him feel much better, he thought crossly as he paid for lunch. Suzy was crazy about him, Alexandra was crazy about him and the one he was crazy about was off having a ball. Laughing and joking as if he’d never existed. Right this minute he hated Ellen almost as much as he loved her. He’d had enough of this carry-on.

  He walked Emma to her car, got into his own and drove back to the office. He dictated some letters, made some calls and then told his secretary he was leaving work early. ‘If anyone’s looking for me, tell them I’m with a client,’ he instructed briskly.


  He hoped Suzy wouldn’t phone. She was really paranoid these days. The tension at home was unbearable. One good thing about Alexandra, she wasn’t a hysterical female type. She didn’t go off the rails or make demands the way Suzy and Ellen did. She was far too controlled for that, he reflected as he got into his car. He had the perfect mistress. Life was full of irony, Chris thought wryly as he drove out of the car park and eased his way into the flow of traffic.

  ‘Mammy, there’s a man at the door that wants to talk to you,’ Stephanie called upstairs.

  ‘Hell,’ muttered Ellen as she stirred the big pot of chutney she was making. She, Miriam and Denise were all up to their eyes in their respective kitchens, making home-made jams, pickles and chutneys from the harvest fruits, to stock up their deli larder. She took the pot off the heat, wiped her hands in her apron and hurried downstairs. It was hardly the pools or insurance man – it wasn’t their day. It must be a door-to-door salesman. Maybe someone selling encyclopaedias. She was in no humour for the hard sell from anyone, she thought irritably. She was a busy woman. She got to the top of the stairs, polite refusals at the tip of her tongue when she caught sight of the man at the door and nearly fainted.

  Chris stood nonchalantly, smiling down at Stephanie, making light small talk with her.

  Ellen’s throat constricted. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

  ‘Mammy, please please can I go out on the green? Gwen and Niamh out of my class are there,’ Stephanie begged. She’d lost another front tooth and she looked so endearing as she gazed up at Ellen entreatingly.

  ‘All right. Put your anorak on, it’s cold,’ Ellen heard herself say calmly. She didn’t know where her voice was coming from or how she sounded so composed. Stephanie was gone in a flash. Not in the slightest bit curious about the stranger at the door.

  ‘How could you, Chris? For God’s sake, come in. I don’t want people seeing you on my doorstep. It’s broad daylight. How could you?’ she hissed. She closed the door behind him and glared up at him.