Mirror, Mirror

by Patricia Scanlan

  Miss Kirwan across the hall for sure. And probably prim little Mr Deasy upstairs. It was hardly Jonathan Butler on the ground floor. He was a real ladies’ man. He and Alexandra had had a mad passionate fling once, but it had fizzled out when she’d met Will, and he’d taken up with a tarty actress who was a real luvvie-darling who couldn’t act for nuts apart from faking an orgasm, as Alexandra had told him waspishly, much to his amusement. No, it certainly wasn’t Jonathan. He would have been most entertained by the contretemps.

  She toyed with the idea of phoning the landlord. But that would be so undignified. If she phoned him, it would seem as if she were defending herself from the accusations. Pride wouldn’t let her do that.

  She was on the horns of a dilemma, then. ‘Damn you, Suzy! Damn you, Chris!’ she swore angrily. She liked this flat. It was posh and plush and not wildly expensive. It suited her image to have a Ballsbridge address. Dublin 4 was the place to be. Any move from there would be a retrograde step. She’d just have to look around and see what was on the market. But first of all she was going to phone Chris and give him a piece of her mind.

  She dialled his number. ‘Chris Wallace, please.’

  ‘Who may I say is calling?’ his secretary asked in a bored sing-song voice.

  ‘It’s personal,’ snapped Alexandra.

  ‘Yes?’ Chris came on the line seconds later. He sounded wary.

  ‘I got a letter this morning giving me a month to get out of my flat, all because of that stupid feather-brained wife of yours, Chris. And I’m not one bit happy about it,’ she complained.

  ‘Well, do you know what she did on me? She changed the locks on the bloody door. So I might as well be homeless. You’re not the only one out on their ear,’ Chris growled.

  ‘Yah! Well, I can’t afford to stay in hotels thinking like some people can!’ Alexandra retorted sarcastically. What did he want? For her to offer him a shoulder to cry on? She was the one who was being harassed.

  ‘Don’t be like that, Alexandra. I was thinking of you too. I felt you were getting fed up with me,’ Chris wheedled.

  ‘You were getting fed up with me.’

  ‘No I wasn’t. I’ve a lot on my plate. Suzy won’t let me into the house. My mother’s on my back. I’m not very good company right now.’

  ‘That makes two of us, I suppose,’ Alexandra had to agree. Now that she was in the pickle she was in, she felt the need of some support. If she was going to have to move she’d need a man to help. She might as well hang on to Chris until she was sorted out. Better him than no one.

  ‘How about if I come over tonight? I’ll buy the evening papers. We can go through the accommodation-for-rent pages together,’ Chris said dryly. ‘I may have to get a place until Suzy comes to her senses.’

  ‘I’m telling you here and now, Chris. Suzy won’t forgive and forget. Underneath it all she’s a tough little cookie. Don’t forget I know her longer than you do.’

  ‘I don’t bloody care whether she forgives or forgets. I just want to get back home. I’m paying through the nose for it as it is.’ Chris sounded extremely tetchy.

  ‘Well, the best of luck getting back, darling. See you tonight,’ Alexandra retorted. It didn’t matter a whit to her whether Chris and Suzy got back together or not. She had much more important worries. Such as where she was going to live. The sooner she found a new pad the better. She didn’t want to stay here a minute longer than necessary now that she’d received that dreadfully insulting letter. She’d better start trawling through the papers, she thought morosely as she finished her coffee and filled a basin for the wash-up.

  Chris doodled on his notepad. He’d picked up the phone to ring Suzy at least three times and each time he’d lost his nerve. It was ridiculous. A man shouldn’t be locked out of his own home. It was his house. His name was on the deeds. His money was paying the mortgage. Legally, Suzy didn’t have a leg to stand on. But was that what he was going to have to do? Take legal action to get back into his own property. Suzy’d have to see reason. And besides, he wanted to see his kids. Now that he was deprived of their company he wanted to see them.

  She couldn’t separate him from his children. They were his. He had as much right to them as she did. She was as bad as Ellen Munroe, he thought savagely. Stephanie was his, too. What right had Ellen to stop him from seeing his own daughter if he wanted?

  Women! They were witches. They had the upper hand in everything. Suzy, Ellen, Alexandra, his mother! They were all taking their pound of flesh and it damn well wasn’t fair. Chris was so agitated he actually felt like crying. He wanted to put his face in his hands and bawl his eyes out. But he was a man. He couldn’t do that. That was unmanly behaviour. Women had it so easy. They could cry and rant and rave and whinge to their friends, but men had to bottle it all up inside. Wetness stung his eyes.

  He was losing it, he really was. Imagine if his secretary walked into his office and saw him like this. He’d never be able to look her in the eye again. She’d never respect him. She’d given him a very strange look when he’d walked into the office this morning still fairly battered and bruised. He’d told her he’d been in a car crash. He hoped she’d believed him. Chris brushed the tears from his eyes and blew his nose.

  He wanted to phone Suzy and arrange to meet her for lunch as she’d demanded. But he was scared. Just say she hung up on him. What would he do? Should he go around to the house and physically break his way in? Was that what it took? Chris mulled over his options. They were few and far between. He didn’t want to frighten the twins. His heart started pounding. His palms were sweaty and his tie felt very tight around his neck. This was crazy, he thought frantically. He was the one in control. He held the purse-strings. He’d better start acting like it.

  Chris picked up the phone and dialled his home number.

  Suzy answered after a dozen or so rings.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s me,’ Chris said brusquely.

  ‘What do you want?’ She sounded very hostile.

  ‘I want to know how my kids are. I want to know when you’re going to stop this madness. You said you wanted to meet for lunch. Meet me today in the Burlington.’ He kept his tone cold and curt.

  ‘Don’t dictate to me, Chris. Don’t forget I’m not the one whoring around the country. You weren’t thinking about the kids when you were seducing Miss-Big-Boobs. How long was it going on for? All through our marriage? Or before?’

  ‘It’s only been going on for a couple of months,’ Chris said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Liar! Liar, liar, liar! Don’t take me for a fool, Chris.’

  ‘I’m telling you the truth,’ Chris said desperately. The venom in her tone shook him.

  ‘And I don’t believe you, Chris. I’ll never believe a word out of your mouth again.’

  ‘Look, this is pointless. I’m coming home and you better let me in. I want to see the kids. I need to get some paperwork. You can’t keep me out of the house for ever. It’s my house. Don’t forget that.’

  ‘You can come home and get your papers and you can spend some time with the kids but as regards coming to live here again, you can forget that. Our marriage is finished.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ snapped Chris, at the end of his tether. ‘If that’s the way you feel, you leave. I’ll get someone to take care of the kids.’

  ‘Oh no, Chris. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not the one who’s having an affair. Go and live with your little tart. You’re welcome to each other.’

  ‘I don’t want to live with Alexandra! I’m not walking out on my kids!’ Chris exploded.

  ‘Oh, I see. You just want to screw her and have some peace and quiet when things get too noisy and stressful here. That’s called having your cake and eating it, Chris. You won’t make a commitment to me and you won’t make a commitment to her and you’ll use the kids as an excuse. Well, it won’t work. I don’t want you. You revolt me. I despise you. I don’t want to be near you. And not even for the kids am I going to swa
llow all this and let you back to live here as if nothing had happened. If Alexandra doesn’t want you, go and get a place of your own.’

  ‘I can’t bloody well afford a place of my own. You know that, Suzy!’ he shouted.

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to work harder then, won’t you?’ Suzy shot back. ‘Or else go and see if that other woman you did the dirty on years ago will take you back. You could live with her over the butcher’s shop rent free and be a good daddy to your other poor unfortunate kid!’

  Chris winced as the phone was slammed down noisily at the other end.

  Suzy really was vicious when she got going. Maybe Alexandra was right. Maybe she meant it when she said their marriage was over. He felt impotent. Helpless. She couldn’t dictate like that. He wasn’t going to be walked on by his own wife. He was going to go home and demand a key and he was going to live in his own house if he damn well wanted to.

  Half an hour later he drove into his driveway. The twins were playing on the front lawn. They screamed with excitement when they saw his car.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy! Where were you?’ Adam raced over followed by Christina.

  Chris was touched by their pleasure at seeing him. At least they cared about him, he thought forlornly. He got out of the car.

  ‘Daddy, what happened your face?’

  ‘I was in a small crash. I had to go to hospital,’ he fibbed.

  ‘Daddy, we missed you. Can you play with us now?’ Christina flung her arms around him and he scooped her up.

  ‘Sure I can play. I just have to see Mummy first. I’ll be out in a minute.’ He walked around to the back of the house.

  The back door was open. Suzy was drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. She looked ghastly. Very pale and tense and strained. Her eyes were shadowed and dark, sunken into her face. Obviously she wasn’t sleeping well. It was her own fault. Chris felt no sympathy for her. She was making the mountain out of the molehill, not him. It was only a fling. These things happened and she was a fool to think otherwise.

  Her eyes flashed hatred when she saw him. It hardened his resolve. He faced her. ‘It’s like this, Suzy. If you want to leave, you leave. This is my house. My home. And they are my kids. Don’t cause a scene in front of them. I’ll move into the spare bedroom. If you don’t like it . . . walk!’

  ‘No, Chris, let me tell you the way it’s going to be,’ Suzy retorted tightly. ‘You can come and see the kids whenever you like. But that’s it. You get your own place.’

  ‘And you’re going to make me? Do you realise you haven’t a leg to stand on, legally? Forget it.’

  ‘If you don’t,’ Suzy continued, ignoring him, ‘I will make an appointment to see a tax inspector and I’ll present him with copies of a certain set of account books. I had copies made of them this morning. You remember, the black leather-bound ones in the safe?’ she said sweetly.

  Chris felt the blood drain from his face.

  ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

  ‘Wouldn’t I? Try me, you bastard. You might get away with lying to me but you won’t get away with not paying your taxes. It’s called fraud! You’re a thief as well as a liar!’

  ‘Are you crazy? God Almighty, Suzy! That would ruin me . . . and you.’

  ‘Well then, we’ll both be ruined together, won’t we!’ Suzy’s tone was brittle. ‘I begged you for years to stop messing about with the accounts and get your tax in order, after that crooked accountant of yours let it slip one night when he was pissed that you had two sets of account books. I was always petrified you’d be caught and that the taxman would come knocking on the door. Whoever would have thought that one day I’d be glad of those account books?’

  ‘Declan Carney would be jailed for false accounting. You wouldn’t do that to him. He’s got four kids.’ Chris felt as though he’d been hit by a ten-ton truck.

  ‘Declan’s a toadying worm and I couldn’t care less about what happens to him. And anyway it’s up to you. If you don’t want any trouble, just get out and leave me alone.’

  ‘You are low, Suzy.’ He was so angry he wanted to thump her.

  ‘I had a good master. Didn’t I? I was taught by the best.’ Her face was contorted with detestation.

  ‘I hate you, you fucking bitch,’ he hissed.

  ‘And I hate you, you two-faced bastard.’ She turned and walked from the room, leaving him standing with his hands clenched at his sides.

  He’d been completely outmanoeuvred. She had him by the short and curlies and she knew it. She was capable of turning him in to the tax people. He’d seen the hatred in her eyes. He’d shot his bolt with Suzy. She was out for revenge. He’d misjudged her, badly.

  How could all this be happening to him? Was he in some sort of nightmare? Things were rapidly going from bad to worse.

  Well, it looked as if he’d no option but to get a place of his own. At least for the time being. Maybe in a month or two, Suzy would start being rational about things.

  Chris went into the lounge and poured himself a stiff whiskey. He needed it. And damn it, it was still his whiskey. He had to review his options. He was going to have to stick with Alexandra for a while longer. At least until he got sorted out with a place. She’d been given a month’s notice. He had a month to sort out his living arrangements. And he was going to have to find more clients to fund this added expense.

  He felt utterly oppressed. He had no one to turn to in his hour of need. Alexandra wasn’t interested in his problems. Ellen had shut the door on him. He had no control over anything. Chris felt very much alone. It was an immensely disturbing feeling. More than disturbing, strangely frightening. He felt as though he was standing on shifting sands. Everything had changed. He’d no idea where he was going or what was going to happen to him. He was going to have to think of some strategy to get back on top of things. But where to start, he did not know.

  Suzy had promised herself that they would pay. The expression on Chris’s face when she’d told him that she’d shop him to the taxman had been immensely gratifying. That had been an absolute brainwave. It had come to her in the middle of the night as she’d tossed and turned, tormenting herself with visions of Alexandra and Chris together. Asking herself questions she had no answers to.

  She’d puzzled over how she could stop Chris from coming back home. And then it had hit her. His little secret. The second set of accounts, the real set, that he kept in the small safe he’d had installed under the stairs. For the first time in their relationship, she had the power and control. It was a bitter triumph. He was under her thumb now. And that was where he’d stay. He owed thousands to the taxman. One word from her and he’d be in it up to his neck. She’d seen fear in his eyes. He didn’t know whether she’d do the dirty on him. He’d been afraid to call her bluff.

  He’d want to be afraid, Suzy thought grimly. If he started messing her about, she would tell. She’d show him the same loyalty he’d shown to her. None! Chris Wallace would rue for the rest of his miserable life the day he betrayed her with Alexandra Johnston.

  But whatever animosity she bore towards Chris, it was nothing to the hatred that she felt for Alexandra.

  Alexandra would suffer. That grudge would be borne for ever.

  Suzy sat down at her dressing-table and began to write. This would hit that bitch where it really hurt, she thought spitefully. By the time she was finished, Alexandra Johnston wouldn’t be able to face anyone in Stuart and Stuart’s.

  Chapter Nine

  Emma surveyed her dining-room with enormous pleasure. She’d had it redecorated especially for the occasion. The cream and gold was gorgeous. Rich gold damask curtains hung on the floor-to-ceiling French doors. The walls were painted a warm magnolia and her new parquet floor, burnished bronze, gleamed in the watery winter sun that streamed through the windows. When her guests arrived after the service, the fire would be lighting and the lavish hot and cold buffet would be laid out on a long trestle table covered with pure Irish linen cream tablecloths. Champagne flutes and Waterford c
rystal wineglasses sparkled with rainbow prisms of light, from the rays of the midday sun.

  Emma was glad the sun was shining. The weather had been miserable for the past few days. The gardens had looked so gloomy and dreary. Now, with the sun shining on the crisp pile of russet-gold leaves and the berry-laden shrubs and hedges, vibrant against the blue sky, the grounds looked most impressive.

  Eat your heart out, Gillian, she thought happily as she walked between the sliding doors into the lounge. Andrew was cooing in his cot.

  ‘My darling’s getting christened today. Oh, my little pet! There’s my good little boy.’ She picked him up and gave him a cuddle. He was such a dotey little baby with his big trusting brown eyes. Emma felt a rush of love for him. He was a very placid baby. He slept well at night. And because she had Mrs Murdock to take care of him during the day, Emma wasn’t half as nervous as she’d been with Julie Ann.

  ‘Mummy, will you put him down and do my hair, please?’ Julie Ann stood at the door holding a black velvet ribbon and a hairbrush. Emma gave Andrew a little kiss and laid him back gently in his carry-cot, careful not to crease his silk and lace christening robes. He beamed up at her.

  ‘Doesn’t he look pretty?’ She smiled at her daughter.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Mummy. Boys aren’t pretty. Only girls are. I’m pretty.’

  ‘Of course you are! You’re the prettiest little girl in the world.’

  ‘I’m prettier than Stephanie and Rebecca, aren’t I?’

  ‘It’s not really nice to say things like that,’ Emma demurred as she began to brush Julie Ann’s hair. ‘Everybody is different. Stephanie has dark hair and blue eyes and you have blonde hair and brown eyes.’

  ‘And Rebecca has freckles. I’d hate to have freckles.’

  ‘Yes, but don’t say that to her,’ Emma said hastily.

  ‘They’re not as rich as us either. They don’t have parties like us and they don’t have a pony and a horse. Stephanie doesn’t even have a daddy living with her.’