They stepped outside the cubicle as the nurse whisked the curtains around the bed. People looked at them inquisitively.
‘Any improvement?’ asked the middle-aged woman in the bed beside Sheila. Ellen shook her head. She didn’t really want to get into conversation with the woman. She was loud and irritating as well as being an absolute know-all. She was thoroughly enjoying her stay in hospital where she was the centre of attention. She’d had her gall bladder removed. She’d suffered complications, she’d proudly told Ellen. And had to be opened up again. This was declared as though it was an added bonus. It was her badge of honour and each visitor was regaled with details of every incision, every stitch, every ounce of drama that could be squeezed out of it.
‘Who’s she under?’
‘Professor Dean,’ Ellen said through gritted teeth.
‘A good man,’ Centre-of-Attention said knowingly. ‘He looked after my sister-in-law when she had angina. Mind you she’s poorly at the moment. Has to have the womb removed,’ she mouthed, lowering her voice momentarily. ‘She’ll be coming in here under Dev. He did me when I had my fibroids and the repair job done.’
‘Goodbye,’ Ellen murmured and moved away, not in the least interested in this utter stranger’s medical history. It was obvious she knew every specialist in the hospital.
‘She’s upset. You can see it.’ Centre-of-Attention took the snub graciously, speaking sotto voce to her two visitors.
Ellen felt like crowning her. The dry cloying heat from the huge brown radiators and central-heating pipes and the smell of antiseptic that could not quite disguise the odours of sickness made her feel queasy. It was a long time since breakfast.
‘Let’s go and get a cup of tea, Dad.’
‘Maybe we should stay.’ Mick was reluctant to leave.
‘No. Come on. A bit of fresh air will do you good. We can have a cup of tea in the Roma café over there on Berkeley Road,’ Ellen said firmly. ‘Maybe you should eat something too.’
‘I couldn’t eat a bit,’ Mick sighed.
‘You should try. It’s going to be a long day.’ She took his arm and they walked out of the ward, down the crowded corridor, towards the stairs.
On their way back to the hospital, after a cup of hot sweet tea and a cheese sandwich, they slipped into Berkeley Road church. In the gloominess of late afternoon, the flickering flames of small white candles lent an air of serenity that was vaguely comforting. An elderly woman threaded Rosary beads through her fingers, praying silently. Apart from her, the church was empty. Ellen followed Mick into a pew, glad to postpone the moment of return to the hospital. Lost in their own thoughts, they knelt and prayed, fearful of what they would find when they returned to Sheila’s bedside.
Miriam’s stomach was tied up in knots. Her heart was racing. She had a throbbing headache. It was the longest day of her life. The last she’d heard from Ellen was that Sheila was still unconscious and the doctors thought they might have to operate. She felt desperately guilty. If Mrs Munroe died, she might as well have murdered her.
This was her punishment for being selfish and not helping her mother-in-law out. Baking a few mince pies for the Christmas fair wouldn’t have killed her. But she had wanted Mrs Munroe to realise that she, too, was very busy and that she would have very little spare time once she started working. And that she was fed up being treated like a dogsbody.
Mrs Munroe never treated Emma the way she treated her, Miriam thought resentfully as she cleared the kitchen table of dirty dishes. It was as though she had much more respect for Emma. Well, she was worthy of respect too, wasn’t she? Was it so wrong to stand up for herself? How come other people seemed to do it with ease and yet when Miriam made a stand, she was made to feel as though she was stepping out of line and being selfish.
Maybe she was only thinking of herself by going into this business with Ellen and Denise. What if Sheila was right and her children did suffer because she wasn’t able to give them her full attention? They were all in the sitting-room in front of the fire, making a get-well card for their nannie. Miriam could hear them arguing about what colour to use for the rainbow over her hospital bed.
Nagging doubts began to gnaw. Maybe she should give up the whole idea. But then Ellen would be dreadfully disappointed and she’d be letting her down. And besides she’d already invested money in the venture. She couldn’t very well go looking for it back.
All the good had been taken out of it now, Miriam thought miserably. Just this once in her life she’d badly wanted to do something. It had looked as if it was all going to be perfect and now this had to happen. It wasn’t fair. She’d always tried her best to be a decent person. Couldn’t something nice happen to her once in a while? Miriam burst into tears as she washed the dishes after the children’s dinner.
Peggy Kinsella slipped her long orange sleeveless cardigan on. It had got cooler and the foyer of Stuart and Stuart’s Advertising Agency was always draughty. The black skinny-rib jumper she was wearing wasn’t very warm but it showed off her figure admirably. And Peggy wanted to be noticed. That was why she only put her cardigan on when it got really chilly. She liked it when the partners looked at her admiringly. She didn’t plan to be a receptionist for ever. She wanted to be like Alexandra Johnston. A fully-fledged PR woman, planning promotions and advertising campaigns. Wining and dining clients in the best hotels.
All her friends said she was very lucky to have a receptionist’s job in an advertising agency. It was much more interesting than their boring old jobs. She was lucky. But deep in Peggy’s heart burned a flame of ambition that had been ignited the day she’d first laid eyes on Alexandra in her smart Prince of Wales check suit with her expensive black gloves and patent leather shoes and handbag. She exuded confidence and sophistication as she swanned into the lift to her second-floor office. There and then Peggy had vowed she was going to be like Alexandra some day. The fact that Alexandra was a sarcastic wagon only added to her glamour. Some day she, Peggy, would issue orders and take typists and secretaries to task for ‘sloppy incompetence’ – Alexandra’s favourite term of reprimand.
The afternoon post had just arrived. She liked sorting the post. One day letters would be addressed to her. And a receptionist would bring them to her very own office.
A large garish card in psychedelic reds and purples caught her eye. It was way-out, Peggy thought admiringly as she studied it. She had a Beatles poster something like it hanging up in her bedsit. She flipped the card over and saw that it was addressed to her heroine.
Peggy’s blue eyes grew round as she read the opening sentence.
‘Oh my Gawd. Oh! Oh!’ she exclaimed aloud as she read further.
June Whelan from the typing pool happened to be passing.
‘Hey, June! June, quick, look at this!’ Peggy called urgently, knowing that never again would a nugget of gossip of this magnitude be hers to enjoy.
June tottered over on her newly acquired platform shoes and took the card eagerly. This was obviously something out of the ordinary. Peggy didn’t usually associate with a mere typist.
‘Holy Moly,’ June stuttered as she read it. ‘Is this some sort of a joke?’
‘I wouldn’t think so. Can you believe it? No wonder Miss-High-and-Mighty’s out sick.’
‘She’ll be even sicker when she reads this,’ Peggy declared as she took back the card and reread it just to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.
‘Well, what do you think?’ Alexandra drew deeply on her cigarette and exhaled a long thin stream of smoke.
‘My bedroom’s a bit small,’ Chris said sulkily.
‘Darling, don’t be silly. We can do the woo in my bed. We’d better make up our minds today, though. These pads are going to be snapped up.’
‘Twelve pounds ten is a bit steep.’
‘Well, it’s not as if you’re paying the full whack! It’s six pounds five shillings each, Chris. Don’t be a cheapskate,’ Alexandra drawled.
‘Look, Alexandra, I have a
business to run and a mortgage to pay. It’s nothing to do with being a cheapskate.’
‘Fine,’ she snapped. ‘Go and get a kip of a bedsit in Rathmines.’
‘All right, all right, but as long as it’s understood it’s not a permanent arrangement. I’m only staying until I can persuade Suzy to let me home again. I can’t afford this carry-on,’ Chris said irritably.
‘Darling, you’ve no idea how good you are for my ego,’ Alexandra said dryly.
‘Well, it was always only going to be a fling, wasn’t it? It’s not as if we’re madly in love with each other.’ Chris jammed his hands in his pockets.
‘You could lie to me a little,’ she pouted, stubbing out her cigarette in the fireplace. ‘You’re so good at it normally.’
‘It takes one to know one.’
‘Bastard!’
They glared at each other.
‘Let’s do it now. On the floor!’ Alexandra urged, excited.
‘You’re a crazy bird! You’re wild,’ Chris muttered as he drew her to him.
‘Yeah, that’s me. Wild and crazy, baby. It takes one to know one,’ Alexandra murmured huskily as she unbuckled his belt and drew him down beside her on the bare wooden floor.
Her head hurt. Everywhere hurt. She felt very, very strange. Sheila tried to open her eyes. Her eyelids felt like lead. It was too much of an effort. Someone was calling her name. Go away, she wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out.
‘Mrs Munroe, Mrs Munroe.’ The voice was very insistent.
Sheila made a supreme effort. The light hurt but after a moment or two she realised that a nurse was bending over her, smiling at her.
‘That’s very good, Mrs Munroe. Everything’s all right. Look, someone’s just come to see you.’
The face she loved most in the world became more focused.
‘Mick, Mick,’ she croaked.
‘You’re all right, Sheila. Don’t worry about a thing.’ Her husband’s dear familiar voice was very reassuring. He gave her hand a comforting squeeze. Sheila closed her eyes. Mick was here, that was all that mattered.
‘I’d better postpone the opening. I’ll probably have to go home to look after Mam when she comes out of hospital.’ Ellen couldn’t keep the despondency out of her voice. It was late and she was at home with Doug. Miriam had kept Stephanie. But Ellen had insisted that Mick spend the night with her. She didn’t want him to be on his own. He was fast asleep in her bed, worn out after the shocks of the day.
‘Don’t make a decision now, Ellen. You’re too tired. You’ve had a rough day. Things will look different in the morning,’ Doug advised. ‘This is a good time to open. There’s going to be lots of people doing extra shopping for Christmas. You know the way it’s always busy. There’s queues in your dad’s shop for the turkeys. Some of those people would enjoy a cup of coffee or a bite of lunch. And you have Miriam and Denise.’
‘I know. But it’s going to be really awkward. I can’t let Dad handle all this on his own. And I wouldn’t see Mam stuck.’
‘I know you wouldn’t, Ellen. I’m just saying this is a good time to open The Deli and, if you can get around it at all, try and keep to your original plan. I’ll do anything I can to help.’
Ellen reached up and stroked his beard. ‘Did anyone ever tell you you’re a big softie?’
‘I beg your pardon, woman, no one’s ever cast aspersions on my credentials before,’ Doug said in mock indignation.
Ellen giggled. Doug’s humour was always such a tonic.
‘Idiot!’ She smiled up at him and cuddled in close beside him on the sofa. It was so good to have someone to share her woes with. She’d carried her burdens alone for such a long time she’d got used to aloneness. This sharing with Doug was very comforting. Was this what a good marriage was like? she wondered as she gazed at the flickering flames. Was this really what it was all about? Not the wild passion and trauma and roller-coaster emotions that characterised her relationship with Chris?
She couldn’t imagine Chris offering to muck in to help her out of a fix, she thought wryly. Other people’s crises were of no interest to him. His own were far too absorbing.
At least her mother hadn’t had a stroke or a heart attack. There was light at the end of the tunnel. She’d really done a job on herself, though. She’d broken three ribs, fractured her wrist and given herself an awful concussion. She was going to be in hospital for at least a week. After that, she’d need time to recuperate. Ellen had more or less resigned herself to spending Christmas at her mother’s. Her eyes drooped tiredly. She was jaded. She sagged comfortably against Doug.
‘I think it’s time you went to bed.’ He gave her a gentle shake.
‘I don’t want to move. You’ve got very comfortable shoulders,’ Ellen protested, too lazy to get up.
‘They’re one of my best attributes, true. Women go mad about these shoulders, you know? But flattery will get you nowhere. It’s time for bed,’ Doug teased as he hauled her up off the sofa.
‘Aw, Doug.’
‘Aw, Ellen.’
He leaned down and kissed her lightly. ‘I don’t want to go either. But you’ve had a long day. And there’s a lot to be done tomorrow, so lock up after me and hop it.’ He put the guard in front of the fire, carried the cups out into the kitchen and rinsed them before shrugging into his leather jacket.
‘Night, love.’
‘Goodnight, Doug. Thanks for everything.’
‘Go to bed.’ He smiled his lopsided crinkly smile, took her hand and led her downstairs. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Yawning, Ellen closed the door behind him. She had the strangest feeling that if her dad hadn’t been staying with her, she would have asked Doug to stay the night. They had become so close, she wanted to be with him. It was the first time she’d really felt that way and it gave her a little shock. Did it mean she was finally over Chris?
She was too tired to think about it. Or maybe she didn’t want to think about it. Committing to Doug would mean giving up on Chris and there’d be no going back. She wanted to be absolutely fair to Doug. Chris would have no part in her life if she turned to Doug. It would be a very final step to take. Could she take it? Why was she so hesitant about it? She wouldn’t think about it tonight. It was much easier not to and she’d had a very long day.
Weary to her bones, Ellen barely brushed her teeth before getting into Stephanie’s snug, hot-water-bottle-warmed bed. She was asleep in seconds.
‘Miriam, Mam’s accident isn’t your fault. These things happen,’ Ben explained patiently.
‘Yeah, but she was mad when she left. I should have just agreed to bake the damn mince pies. It wouldn’t have killed me,’ Miriam said heavily.
‘Miriam, you were right to say no. Mam’s just got to accept that you’re going to be busy with The Deli. You can’t spread yourself everywhere, love. And you’ve always helped out until now. You’ve done more than your share.’
‘I was half-thinking maybe I’ve made a mistake about The Deli. Maybe I shouldn’t take it on. I’m going to be up to my eyes with it and maybe it’s not fair on the kids and you.’
‘Are you nuts?’ Ben sat bolt upright. ‘I don’t want to hear that kind of talk again, Miriam. You’ve been looking forward to this for months. The kids are looking forward to all being together after school and I’m looking forward to having a rich wife. Right?’
‘Oh, Ben, I’m serious,’ Miriam said in exasperation.
‘And so am I, Miriam. I don’t want to hear this bull. Mam’s going to be OK. She’ll be out and about again, I guarantee you that. And you’re not going to sit here and bake mince pies for the parish and let a chance like The Deli pass you by. Over my dead body.’ It was rare for Ben to get worked up about something. He was very placid usually.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind me doing it? Are you absolutely certain you won’t feel I’m neglecting the children?’ she asked doubtfully.
‘I’ll be really disappointed in you if you don’t do
this, Miriam,’ her husband said quietly.
‘Thanks, Ben.’ Miriam was so touched by his support and belief in her that tears came to her eyes. Ben always made her feel good about herself. She was very lucky to have him.
‘What am I going to do with you?’ Ben drew her close and they sat in the firelight, arms entwined, and suddenly things weren’t so gloomy. Miriam felt a flicker of excitement again at the thought of the adventure to come.
Emma lay next to Vincent, listening to his even breathing. She was in a state. He’d gone in to the Mater to see his mother and had come home distressed at her injuries. He’d made her promise that she’d go and visit Sheila and make up their tiff. Then later, he’d come out with his bombshell. He wanted to take Sheila home to their house when she came out of hospital so she could recuperate. After all, they had Mrs Murdock – she could help out, he’d suggested. Emma had been so stunned at this proposition she was practically speechless.
‘But your mother might prefer to go to Ellen’s or Miriam’s,’ she’d managed weakly.
‘It’s out of the question, Emma. They wouldn’t have time to look after her with this café business,’ Vincent pointed out reasonably. ‘She should come to us. It’s the best option. It will only be for a week or so.’
Emma was horrified. A week! What a nightmare. Two hours of Mrs Munroe’s company was more than enough to endure.
She couldn’t really argue, unfortunately. After all, Vincent was her husband and he was very good to her. He rarely asked her to do anything that put her out. Emma had to be honest about this, much as it pained her. She couldn’t very well cause a fuss. Vincent would be hurt if she dug her heels in and said an emphatic no. She was his wife, she had to be helpful in difficult times. But the thought of having Mrs Munroe in their house for more than a couple of hours was a heart-sinking, dread-inducing prospect. This would be a major test of how good a wife she was.
Blast Ellen and Miriam and their silly little café, Emma thought irately. All the fuss about it, you’d think it was the blooming Ritz. Who in their right minds would want to spend hours cooking food, serving it to people and then washing up after them. They were mad! If it wasn’t for that, Ellen could look after Mrs Munroe. After all, she was her daughter. It was her place to look after her mother, not Emma’s. And besides Emma had only had a baby a few months ago. It was exhausting looking after him and trying to cope with Julie Ann as well. Mrs Murdock was extremely efficient, to be sure, but it was still very tiring and everyone knew she’d had a most difficult pregnancy, Emma thought indignantly as she lay in the dark feeling very sorry for herself.
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