Mirror, Mirror

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘You’d have only hung up on me if I’d phoned. Wouldn’t you?’ he said accusingly.

  ‘I told you I don’t want you in my life. I told you I didn’t want to see you again,’ Ellen said heatedly.

  ‘No . . . you let lover-boy do your dirty work for you. You didn’t tell me yourself to my face. I wanted to hear you say the words yourself,’ Chris said harshly.

  ‘I did tell you. I told you that last night we were together. I told you I wanted peace of mind. But you just can’t leave me be. Why, Chris? Why won’t you leave me alone?’

  ‘Because I love you, you stupid woman. I love you. And she’s my daughter and I want to get to know her. I have that right.’

  ‘You have no rights. You’re seven years too late, Chris.’ Ellen’s voice rose an octave.

  ‘Tell me you don’t love me,’ he said. ‘Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.’

  Ellen looked into his blue eyes ringed with thick dark lashes. He stared back at her intently. ‘Say it,’ he challenged. ‘Say you love him more than you love me.’

  ‘Oh Chris, you’re a cruel bastard,’ Ellen said quietly. She did love him. She couldn’t lie to herself. It was a love that went so deep, nothing would ever quench it. But loving him led to misery. His love, which had given her the greatest joy and happiness in her life, had also given her the deepest hurt and sorrow.

  ‘You do love me.’ Chris went to take her in his arms.

  Anger flared in her. ‘Don’t!’ she snapped. ‘Whether I love you or not, I don’t want you here. I can’t believe that you’d let Stephanie see you. I can’t believe that you are so completely and thoroughly selfish, Chris. Go away. Please, please go away and never come back.’

  ‘You don’t mean that, Ellen.’ He gripped her by the arms.

  ‘I do. I do.’ She was sobbing now. Distraught.

  ‘Ellen. Listen to me. I love you.’

  ‘Well, you don’t love me enough. You never did and you never will. If you really loved me, you’d have married me. If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have left me all those years without a word. Actions speak louder than words, Chris. You’re very good at words. But that’s all they are to you. You don’t really love me. If you did, you’d never have come to the door in broad daylight for Mam, Dad, Miriam or Emma to see. If you loved me you wouldn’t be putting me through this torment.’

  ‘I never thought you’d be such a hard, cold bitch, Ellen. You talk about me being selfish. Do you not think it’s selfish of you to stop Stephanie from getting to know her father? All I hear is me, me, me. People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones,’ Chris raged.

  ‘Get out of my house, Chris.’ Ellen was as pale as a ghost. She felt sick.

  He looked at her, frustration and anger written all over his face.

  ‘I’m going. But you have a good hard think about what I’ve just said. And whatever you think . . . I do love you.’ He let go of her arms and turned and walked out the door.

  Ellen sat on the bottom of the stairs with her head in her hands. Why was it that every time she’d managed to regain some emotional equilibrium in her life Chris waltzed back in and left her utterly confused and in turmoil?

  When he’d told her to tell him that she didn’t love him, she couldn’t do it. What did that say about her feelings for Doug? She did care for Doug very much but if she still loved Chris how could she ever hope to love him? Was she being unfair to him? Was she being unfair to Stephanie in not allowing her to get to know Chris? What was the best for her? Ellen sat, numb, breathing slowly and deeply, trying to slow the frantic beating of her heart.

  Her thoughts raced around her head in mad confusion as she sat attempting to come to terms with this latest episode in her roller-coaster relationship with Chris.

  She felt very much alone. It wouldn’t really be fair on Doug to tell him about the visit. She didn’t feel she could talk to Miriam about it. Miriam had such antipathy to Chris. She’d go crazy if she thought Ellen was even considering letting him get to know Stephanie. They’d fallen out over Chris once. Ellen didn’t want to risk that again. Denise would be very antagonistic towards him because of what she was going through in her own marriage. She wouldn’t be able to view it objectively. This was a decision Ellen was going to have to make on her own.

  Five . . . ten minutes later – she wasn’t sure how long had passed – the doorbell rang. Her heart somersaulted. Maybe it was Chris again. Ellen was terrified any of the family would see him. If Sheila got wind that he’d called to see her there’d be the mother and father of a row. She saw a blue colour reflected in the glass and knew it wasn’t him. He’d been wearing a dark suit. Wearily she opened the door.

  Her mother stood there with a purposeful expression on her face. Ellen’s heart sank. Sheila was the last person she could cope with right now. Fear chilled the pit of her stomach. Maybe she’d seen Chris. There couldn’t have been much time between his departure and her arrival.

  ‘Hello, Ellen, I was in with your father and he told me you’d be here. I want to know how many books of tickets you’re going to take for the church fund raffle? Or will you have time, now that you’ve become an entrepreneur?’ She gave a disdainful sniff.

  No one could sniff quite as eloquently as Sheila or flare their nostrils so expressively, Ellen thought wildly.

  ‘Come in, Mam.’ She tried to make her voice sound as normal as possible.

  ‘I don’t want to take you away from any pressing business. Yourself and Miriam don’t seem to have a minute these days.’ Sheila’s tone was brittle.

  Mother, not now, Ellen groaned silently. ‘Of course I’ll sell some tickets, Mam. Give me three books.’ Ellen made a supreme effort to keep patient.

  ‘Thank you.’ Sheila was somewhat mollified. ‘Where’s Stephanie?’

  ‘She’s over playing on the green. Would you like a cup of tea, Mam?’

  ‘If it’s not putting you out I wouldn’t say no.’ Sheila wheeled her bike into the hall. ‘You look pale, Ellen. I hope you’re not biting off more than you can chew. I certainly think Miriam is. She does have three children and a husband to look after as well. I worry that they’ll be neglected.’

  Don’t get into it, Ellen silently warned herself, biting down the irritable retort that she was tempted to make. She ignored her mother’s comment. It was a typical Sheila ploy. Be Made to Feel Guilty. Obviously Sheila considered Ellen to be the main culprit, having come up with the idea in the first place. It was Ellen who was leading Miriam astray therefore Ellen too should be made to feel guilty for being the cause of familial neglect.

  ‘Excuse the mess, I was making chutney.’ Ellen cleared away a space on the table.

  ‘What on earth are you making chutney for?’ Sheila was astonished.

  In spite of herself, Ellen was amused. When she’d lived at home, she’d shown very little interest in domestic matters. She could understand her mother’s surprise.

  ‘We’ll be using as much home-made produce as we can in The Deli so we’re all making jams and chutneys and marmalades and crab-apple jellies and stuff,’ Ellen explained as she filled the kettle and cut and buttered a couple of slices of tea brack.

  ‘Make sure you don’t make it too watery.’ Sheila cast an experienced eye over the pot of sweet-smelling chutney. ‘I’d blend in a little cornflour with that if I were you.’

  ‘OK. You know if you wanted to make sponges or bracks or cakes or tarts we could always buy them from you,’ Ellen offered.

  ‘Well, I don’t know if I’d have the time, Ellen. I am president of the guild this year you know. It’s a very responsible position. I have a lot of organising to do.’ Sheila gave a martyred sigh.

  God! You can’t win with her. Ellen bit her lip. She’d thought to make her mother part of the adventure so that she wouldn’t feel left out.

  The doorbell rang. Ellen jumped. She couldn’t help it. What if it was Chris again?

  ‘You’d better answer that,’ Sheila remarked.
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  Ellen hurried downstairs. The afternoon was turning into a nightmare.

  ‘Hiya, Ellen.’ Doug stood smiling cheerfully at her.

  Guilt enveloped her. If Doug knew what had just transpired between her and Chris he wouldn’t be at all happy.

  ‘Doug, come in,’ she said with forced heartiness.

  ‘You OK?’ He eyed her concernedly.

  ‘Mam’s upstairs.’ She threw her eyes up to heaven, hoping he’d leave it at that.

  ‘Oh! I see. There, there, there,’ he teased, patting her shoulder. ‘I won’t stay then. I’ve to go over to Swords and I’m expecting the electrician in half an hour. Will you be here to let him in?’

  ‘Yeah, no problem, Doug. I’ll see you later then.’

  ‘Well, you won’t, Ellen. Remember I told you. I’ve to bring my sister in to the Mater to visit an aunt of ours.’

  ‘Oh, I forgot. How is she?’

  ‘Ah, the poor old soul. She’s on the way out. We’re the only relations she’s got left. We’ll stay as long as they let us.’

  Ellen reached up and touched his cheek. ‘You’re very kind, Doug.’

  ‘And you look tired. Go and have an early night for yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Doug leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

  ‘Bye, Doug.’ Ellen felt like crying. Why couldn’t she love him the way she loved Chris? Doug was such a decent man. He deserved much more than what she could give him.

  ‘Who was it?’ Sheila wanted to know when she went back upstairs.

  ‘It was Doug.’

  ‘He’s a very nice fellow, I must say,’ Sheila commented. ‘I’m surprised he’s not married. He’d make some woman a good husband.’

  ‘I think a girl let him down once,’ Ellen murmured. There was nothing subtle about her mother, that was for sure. Ellen knew it was Sheila’s greatest wish to see her walk down the aisle wearing some man’s wedding-band on her finger. Then, and only then, would her mother consider Ellen to have redeemed herself. She’d finally be respectable.

  ‘I’d better go, Ellen. I’ve a committee meeting tonight. Bonnie Daly is trying to get us to change our committee meetings from Monday night to Thursday because it suits her better. She’s started playing bridge. So we all have to change our night to suit Queen Bee! Well, as president, I informed Madam Daly we would have to have a vote on the matter. I have to be seen to be impartial. And would you believe it, Ellen? She’s taken me up on it!’ Sheila declared indignantly. ‘So we have to vote on it tonight. She doesn’t mind a bit who she’s putting out with all this nonsense of two-no-trump and suchlike. Just so she can hobnob with Father Larkin and the O’Deas. Did you ever hear such rubbish?’

  ‘That’s a nuisance all right, Mam,’ Ellen agreed. That was all her mother had to worry about. Her intense rivalry with Bonnie Daly would last as long as they lived. Sheila thrived on it. She had no conception of the worries and torments Ellen endured. Sheila didn’t know how lucky she was. Ellen sighed as she followed her mother downstairs.

  ‘I’ll need the tickets sold by the weekend,’ Sheila said briskly as she pulled on her gloves. ‘And maybe Stephanie would like to come and stay on Friday night. She hasn’t stayed for a while now. She can help me make a fruit cake for the whist drive we’re holding.’

  ‘She’ll enjoy that, Mam.’

  ‘She’s a good little girl. I miss having her around.’ Sheila looked sad.

  ‘Mam . . . you know she asked me about her father recently. Do you think she has a right to know him?’ It burst out of her. Ellen had to hear what someone else had to say. She was scared that whatever decision she made would be subconsciously affected by her own desires.

  Sheila looked startled. She paused from buttoning her anorak and said slowly, ‘You know how I feel about that man, Ellen. He’s a no-good fly-by-night and I would hope and pray that Stephanie has as little to do with him as possible. But he is her father and you have to ask yourself, dear, whether it would do more harm than good to prevent her from meeting him if it ever comes to that. I’ll do a novena to Saint Jude about it.’

  ‘Don’t say anything to Stephanie about it on Friday night, Mam.’

  ‘Oh no, no. Not a word,’ Sheila agreed. ‘Try not to worry about it, Ellen.’

  Ellen could see that Sheila felt awkward. They weren’t close. Her pregnancy had been the greatest blow to Sheila. It had put an immense strain on a relationship that had always been stormy.

  ‘I won’t. And thanks, Mam.’

  ‘It’s starting to drizzle. Tell Stephanie to come in,’ Sheila instructed as she cycled off home.

  Ellen was touched by her mother’s advice. She’d fully expected her mother to disapprove of any contact with Chris. She certainly hadn’t got the answer she’d wanted to hear, Ellen thought unhappily as she waved Sheila off and called her daughter in from play.

  The days that followed were difficult for Ellen. She half-expected Chris to phone or land on her doorstep again. She felt guilty for keeping his visit from Doug. She was trying to keep up the façade of normality when all the time she was racked by confusion and unhappiness. At night in bed she tossed and turned wondering how in God’s name she could be so stupid as to still love a man who caused her nothing but sadness. Over and over she told herself that there was no future for her and Chris. Only a sordid half-life existence of furtive visits and snatched moments of togetherness.

  How did you get someone out of your head? What did you have to do? She was weary of it. And she was heartily sick of herself for being such a pain in the ass. But then, every time she did make the effort and got on with things, he was back annoying her, tormenting her, reminding her of her love. It wasn’t all her fault. She was only human, she’d try and comfort herself. She’d look at Denise and see what grief she was going through because of the break-up of her marriage and take a small comfort knowing that she certainly wasn’t the only woman in the world to suffer heartache.

  One day, about three weeks later, Doug was mending a puncture on Stephanie’s little bike. It was late, Stephanie was in bed and Ellen was working on her father’s accounts. Out of the blue Doug looked up at her and said quietly, ‘Chris has been in touch with you, hasn’t he?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Aw come on, Ellen. You’re not on the planet these days. You’re miles away. You’re not sleeping. You’ve shadows around your eyes. You’re trying to be bright and breezy and it’s a huge effort. And you’re keeping me at arm’s length. I don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to work it out.’ There was a trace of anger in his voice.

  ‘If you get mad at me, Doug, I just won’t be able to handle it. So don’t start,’ Ellen said shakily.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I just hoped that you’d finally made a decision about him and us that night he called to the door when I was there.’

  ‘Oh Doug, I swear I want him out of my life. I really really do. But as much as I want to I just can’t block him out and shut down all the feelings I had for him. If I could I would, Doug, you have to believe that. There’s no comparison between you and him. You’re a thousand times the man he’ll ever be. I know that. But I’m not going to lie to you and say I don’t still have feelings for him.’ Ellen came over and knelt beside Doug and put her arms around him.

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘To get back with me. He says he wants to get to know Stephanie. He says it’s his right.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I told him to get out and leave me alone. I don’t know what’s the right thing to do. Maybe I should let him get to know Stephanie. But I’m afraid she’ll get hurt. Chris’s top priority in life is himself. His children are way down the list. I think he’s using Stephanie to get at me. I don’t believe after all this time that he’s genuine about wanting to get to know her. How could he be?’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me about all this?’ Doug stared hard at her. ‘I thought we were friends. Why couldn’t you share it with me?’ He was still angry.


  ‘Ah Doug.’ Ellen shook her head. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you. It’s my problem. I have to work it out myself. If you want to go and try and find happiness with someone else, I’ll understand. I do love you in a very different way to him. I just don’t love you the way you want me to, yet.’ Ellen’s gaze never wavered. It was the only honest thing she could say.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Doug sighed. ‘I’m in this for the long haul, Ellen.’ They held each other tight for a long time, finding a sort of comfort and unspoken reassurance in their embrace.

  It was coming home tomorrow, Julie Ann thought dispiritedly as she sat in bed colouring Cinderella’s beautiful ball gown a deep shade of pink.

  She’d tried and tried and tried her best to give him away so that she could become a saint but her mummy and daddy just wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t even make a miracle because her halo hadn’t grown one tiny little bit. Julie Ann had studied her reflection intently from all angles, but no sign.

  You’d think that her parents would be delighted to have a saint in the family, Julie Ann thought indignantly as she coloured Cinderella’s hair reddy brown, just like her mummy’s. All the fuss about a baby. Her old nursery had been decorated in blue for Andrew. He was getting a new cot and loads of new clothes and toys. Everybody kept bringing presents for him. If it was Baby Jesus, she’d understand all the fussing. After all, the three Wise Men had come to visit him, and the Angel of the Lord had told the shepherds about him, but Andrew was just an ordinary old baby. No angels had heralded his arrival. No star had shone brightly in the East.

  Julie Ann sighed deeply. Her mummy and daddy had gone out for a meal because they wouldn’t be able to go out so much when the new baby was home. They wouldn’t be leaving him on his own with Mrs Kelly, the babysitter, the way they left her, she thought resentfully. It just wasn’t fair. A very odd feeling made her face hot. There was a funny sort of a lump in her chest. Julie Ann stared at her beautiful picture and then holding her crayon tightly she scribbled as hard as she could all over the face of Cinderella.