There was stuffing everywhere. The underside of the turkey was stuck to the parchment paper.
Miriam was spooning stuffing onto a dish. ‘Don’t panic. What they don’t know about they won’t worry about,’ she muttered, flushed from the heat. ‘Just don’t let your mother into the kitchen.’
‘She’s upstairs doing her presidential bit.’ Ellen picked a skelp of turkey out of the roasting-dish and tasted it. ‘It’s nice,’ she announced through bulging cheeks.
‘Stop eating it,’ Denise remonstrated. ‘I’ll carve it and see how we get on. We can disguise these bits.’ She indicated the sorry-looking portion in the roasting-dish. ‘We’ll just pour gravy over them if we have to.’
‘Right. Give them another ten minutes to get sloshed and I’ll tell them to sit down. How’s the soup?’
‘Fine. Oh cripes, turn those potatoes off, they’re going into mush.’ Miriam gave a squawk of dismay as she lifted the lid off the potatoes.
‘How are the roasties doing?’
‘They won’t be long.’ Denise peered into the oven. ‘I think they should begin eating their starters soon. We don’t want the roast potatoes overdone.’
‘I’ll go up and see how many more have arrived.’ Ellen was utterly flustered.
Everyone had arrived by the time she went back upstairs.
‘I see you don’t use tablecloths,’ Bonnie remarked pointedly.
‘Hardly, with pine tables, Bonnie,’ Sheila interjected quickly.
‘Oh but there’s something classy about a linen tablecloth.’ Bonnie smiled sweetly.
‘Ah yes, dear, but The Deli is rather avant-garde, as they say.’ Sheila was snooty. ‘Linen would be out of place.’
Bonnie, who hadn’t a clue what avant-garde meant, glared at Sheila.
‘Well, you can’t beat a bit of class, I think. But then I was reared to it.’
Sheila went deep puce with fury. ‘Indeed, Bonnie, but you’d never guess it,’ she declared frostily.
‘I think the table is delightful,’ Stella Dwyer cut in diplomatically. ‘And the prawn cocktail looks delicious.’
‘If everyone is here maybe you’d like to start,’ Ellen suggested. There were murmurs of agreement as the ladies took their places. Ellen poured the wine and soon the members of the guild were eating and drinking with relish. Bonnie and Sheila were seated as far away from each other as possible, she noted with relief. For a minute or two it looked as if there was going to be a full-scale row!
For the next two hours the girls were rushed off their feet, plating up, serving, pouring drinks. Sheila had Ellen running up and down like a yo-yo.
‘Does she think I’ve jets up me arse?’ she growled to the girls as she made yet another trip to the kitchen. The main course was ready to be served. Fortunately the earlier catastrophes went unnoticed. The roast potatoes were done to a T. The turkey was moist and tender. No one noticed that the potatoes were slightly mushy. Denise creamed and seasoned them perfectly. The sherried gravy came in for lavish praise. Judging by the empty plates, the meal had gone down a treat.
The sherry and wine loosened tongues and every so often guffaws and chuckles would resound through The Deli, as the twenty guild members thoroughly enjoyed their Christmas lunch. Bonnie, on her second glass of red wine, tucked into her sherry trifle with gusto. True to her word, Denise had added an extra measure to her dessert. She’d also topped up Bonnie’s sherry glass at every opportunity.
Ellen hid a smile as Bonnie’s eyes watered, but she finished every scrap and gave a delicate little hiccup. Her cheeks were flushed, her beady little eyes bright as buttons. Lizzie Regan poured herself another glass of wine and added some into Bonnie’s glass. ‘Get that into ya, Cynthia,’ she urged.
‘Oh tee hee hee,’ Bonnie giggled. ‘Oh dear, dear, dear, ha ha. Ha ha ha,’ she chuckled mirthfully. She was as drunk as a skunk.
Lizzie started singing. ‘Poor old Dicey Reilly, she has taken to the sup . . .’
‘This is my lovely day,’ warbled Bonnie.
Denise and Miriam, grinning from ear to ear, stood at the kitchen door enjoying the goings-on upstairs.
‘Ladies, ladies!’ Sheila frowned. Things were getting out of hand. There was too much hysterical hilarity.
‘Let’s pull the crackers,’ Tilly suggested. There was great merriment as crackers were noisily pulled and paper hats placed on heads.
Bonnie, her red hat dangling lopsidedly over her eye, giggled again. ‘In my Easter bonnet with all my eggs upon it,’ she slurred. Sheila was affronted. She glared at her sworn enemy. ‘Behave yourself, Bonnie.’
‘You behave yourself, yourself,’ Bonnie retorted tipsily.
‘We’re having a party, Sheila. This isn’t a committee meeting,’ Lizzie remonstrated, not at all impressed by her president’s school-marmish tone.
‘I believe for every drop of rain that flows a flower grows . . .’ Bonnie’s thin soprano floated through The Deli. Ellen snorted into her handkerchief. Miriam and Denise were in kinks. Tilly Doyle was openly guffawing, as were half of the assembled guests.
‘I think it’s time to serve the coffee.’ Ellen hastened downstairs.
‘Denise, I think you overdid the sherry,’ she said, half-shocked now at the state they’d got Bonnie into. ‘She’s absolutely fluthered.’
‘Yeah, well she ratted on me once to my mother when she caught me smoking and I was kept in for a month. Revenge is a dish best served cold . . . or in a sherry glass.’ She smirked unrepentantly. ‘She’ll never live this one down. What’s she singing now?’
They cocked their ears.
‘Hail redeemer, king divine. Priest and lamb the throne is Thine!’ wafted downstairs.
‘She’s on the hymns now,’ Miriam laughed.
‘Oh, Denise McMahon, may God forgive you!’ Ellen shook her head. ‘I think one of us better bring her home.’
‘Don’t be such a spoilsport. She might do a striptease yet and really liven up the joint.’ Denise was incorrigible.
‘I’ll take her,’ Miriam offered.
‘I’m not going up there by myself. Denise, you can come with me to pour the tea. I’ll take the coffee-pot.’ Ellen was starting to fret. Sheila would probably blame her if the guild lunch was ruined.
‘Coward,’ teased Denise, who was enjoying herself hugely. When they arrived back upstairs Bonnie was in full flow.
‘Angels, saints and nations sing . . .’
Sheila was hopping mad.
Miriam came up and caught Tilly’s eye. ‘Will we take her home?’ she whispered.
‘I think so,’ Tilly agreed. ‘Get her coat.’
‘Lord of life, earth, sky and sea. King of love on Calvaryyyyyy.’ Bonnie’s thin voice cracked.
‘Good woman yourself, Bonnie,’ Lizzie applauded.
‘It was a great party, Bonnie. It’s time to go now,’ Tilly said firmly.
‘Oh but I haven’t sung “South of the Border” yet,’ Bonnie declared indignantly. ‘South of the border down Mexico way. That’s where I—’
‘Now, Bonnie, Ellen has to clear up here. We’ll all be leaving in a minute.’ Tilly slid the older woman’s coat on.
‘Just when I was starting to en . . . en . . . joy myself,’ Bonnie slurred irritably.
‘We’ve another party next week,’ Tilly soothed. She led Bonnie downstairs, watched by the ladies of the guild. Miriam followed. A buzz of conversation broke out upstairs.
‘Disgraceful.’ (Sheila).
‘At her age—’
‘She was only having a bit of fun.’
‘Never could hold her drink.’
‘I bet this won’t be recorded in the minutes.’
‘So much for class! Ha! Ha!’
Ellen kept her face straight as she continued to pour the coffee. Sheila was on her high horse. Bonnie had disgraced the guild. Ellen needn’t have worried – this had made her mother’s day. Bonnie had lost quite a lot of the high moral ground she relished. The guild Christmas lun
ch had turned out to be a lively affair. A triumph for Sheila in terms of her feud with Bonnie. All in all a great success, Ellen decided with satisfaction as she handed around the after-dinner mints. They’d be closing The Deli for Christmas. She was looking forward to the break.
‘But it’s not fair, Mummy. Stephanie has loads of tinsel on her Christmas tree. Why can’t we have tinsel?’ Julie Ann demanded.
‘I’ve told you before, Julie Ann. Tinsel is tacky. I don’t like it. Now stop annoying me,’ Emma said through gritted teeth. She was changing Andrew’s nappy. A chore she detested. Mrs Murdock had the flu. It was most inconvenient. Julie Ann was on her school holidays and she was driving Emma mad.
‘You’re a mean mummy.’
‘Julie Ann! Cut it out.’
‘Won’t!’
‘That’s it. Up to your room, madam.’
‘No!’ screeched Julie Ann.
‘This minute!’ yelled Emma. Andrew started howling.
The phone rang. ‘Crumbs!’ She laid Andrew in his pram and hurried to answer it. It was Chris.
‘Hello, Emma. What do you think of this? Suzy wants me to take the kids for a week. She wants me to keep them in the apartment. I don’t think that’s very fair. Do you? I think I should be entitled to spend time with them at home.’
Typical Chris. Not a word about how was she or any such niceties.
‘It’s very difficult, Chris. I understand how Suzy feels.’ She tried to keep the irritation out of her tone.
‘You women, you always stick together,’ Chris moaned. ‘Does no one understand how I feel? I can’t have the kids here. Alexandra’s not into children at all.’
‘Maybe you could stay with your mother for a few days and have them visit there,’ Emma suggested helpfully.
‘Are you mad! Do you know what she’s done? She’s gone and bought Stephanie a Christmas present. It’s a bit much, Emma. It really is.’
‘I know, she rang me looking for Ellen’s number.’ Emma studied her reflection in the mirror over the phone-stand. She could do with a facial, she decided.
‘You gave it to her!’ Chris roared down the phone.
Emma jumped. ‘Don’t yell! You nearly deafened me,’ she snapped.
‘How could you?’ Chris was fuming.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. How could I not?’
‘Do you think she told Ellen about me and Alexandra?’ he asked agitatedly.
‘How would I know, Chris? I’m not psychic, for God’s sake. Look, I have to go, Andrew’s crying.’ Emma had had enough of her cousin’s dramas. She had plenty of her own.
‘Right, bye.’ Chris hung up ungraciously.
‘Bugger you, Chris,’ Emma muttered. Families were a pain in the butt sometimes. She went into the lounge. Julie Ann stuck out her tongue at her. At her wit’s end, she did the only thing she could think of . . . she stuck out her tongue right back! The look of shock and horror on her daughter’s face gave Emma a modicum of satisfaction as she picked up her son and tried her best to soothe him.
Chris dialled his mother’s number. He was seething. If Katherine opened her big mouth to Ellen she could ruin everything. He had to nip it in the bud and fast.
‘Hello?’ His mother’s cultured tones made him even more irate.
‘Mother, it’s me.’
‘Yes, Christopher.’ Katherine was cool.
‘I just want you to know that when you’re having tea with Ellen and Stephanie, I’d prefer if you didn’t discuss me or my personal problems. Er . . . have you said anything to Ellen about them? Have you told her I’m not living at home?’ He just had to know. His palms sweated as he waited for his mother’s response.
‘Christopher, hard as it may be to accept, your name never came up once in our conversation. Nor do I expect it to. I wouldn’t be so insensitive as to discuss you with Ellen, you may rest assured,’ Katherine retorted tartly.
‘I see. Well, thanks,’ Chris muttered. He felt like a six-year-old who’d been put in his place.
‘What are you doing for Christmas Day, Christopher?’ Katherine inquired.
‘I don’t know.’
‘That woman you’re . . . co-habiting with is going away, isn’t she?’
‘Yeah,’ Chris said forlornly.
‘Very well, then. You’d better come and have lunch with me,’ Katherine said briskly.
‘Right, thanks.’ Chris felt a vague sense of relief. He’d dreaded spending Christmas Day alone. At least he’d get some decent nosh in his mother’s.
‘I’ll be having mulled wine and mince pies on Christmas Eve as usual but you can give that a miss if you like, in view of your situation,’ Katherine instructed. ‘I’ll see you for lunch on Christmas Day at one-thirty. Don’t come any earlier. I’ll have the neighbours in. See you then.’ She hung up smartly.
Chris felt like a pariah. He dropped his head in his hands. At least Ellen didn’t know about Alexandra. Or that he wasn’t living at home. It was crucial that she didn’t hear about it from anyone other than him.
At least Katherine seemed to have taken a real shine to Ellen. That would make his plans much, much easier. For that, at least, he was grateful.
‘Suzy! Did you hear the news? Alexandra got the boot from Stuart and Stuart’s.’ Lindsey’s excited voice trilled down the phone.
‘What? How? Who told you?’ Suzy’s eyes widened in amazement. A sense of elation suffused her.
‘Malachy MacDonald was at a sherry reception that Michael was at and the things he was saying about Alexandra had to be heard to be believed. He said he’d given her the sack for gross incompetence and for dragging the reputation of Stuart and Stuart’s in the mud because of her disreputable private life. Mind, that’s a bit much to take coming from him. You know the way he conned that silly woman into marrying him. If that’s not being disreputable, I don’t know what is.’
‘Oh, who gives a hoot about Malachy MacDonald, whoever he is. Tell me more about Alexandra,’ Suzy urged.
‘Well, that’s all I know,’ Lindsey said petulantly. ‘She’s out on her ear. Michael said it was the talk of the night.’
‘Has she got another job?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘But she’s been sacked.’
‘She’s definitely been sacked,’ Lindsey confirmed.
‘Oh Lindsey, you’ll probably think I’m an awful bitch. But that’s the best news I’ve heard in ages. That’s made my day.’
‘I thought it would. I couldn’t wait to tell you.’ Lindsey grinned at the other end.
‘Oh, I’d love to have been there when she was getting the bullet.’
‘Me too.’
‘I’ll tell you what. I’ll give Madeleine Conway a buzz, to see if she knows anything, and I’ll get back to you later, OK?’
‘Good idea. Ring her now. I’m dying to know all about it.’
‘Right, bye.’ Suzy replaced the receiver and beamed. She felt on top of the world. Alexandra had got the chop. How ignominious. She must be mortified. Her reputation in tatters. Well, that would teach her to mess with other men’s wives, Suzy thought exultantly.
Only one other thing would give her as much satisfaction and that was if Chris kicked her out. She didn’t want him back . . . definitely not. Especially after her talk with her mother-in-law. But she wanted that relationship ended. More than anything else in the world she wanted Chris to leave Alexandra. She didn’t care who else Alexandra shacked up with as long as she and Chris split. The thought of them living happily ever after was too much to endure. Every day they spent together in that posh apartment was a thorn in her heart. It grieved her to think of them as a couple, living in domestic bliss.
Well, Alexandra’s unemployment could only put a strain on the relationship. Chris would never be able to afford the rent of the apartment on his own. He wouldn’t be able to support her and his family. There and then, Suzy resolved to ask for an increase in her housekeeping money in the New Year. She might as well keep the thumbscrews on and
really add to their misery.
She hummed happily as she dialled Madeleine’s number. The other woman answered almost immediately. Suzy grinned. The phone was like an extension of Maddy’s arm.
‘Madeleine, hi. It’s Suzy. I’m just ringing to wish you a happy Christmas. I’m going to stay with a friend so I won’t be around for a while. Thanks for all the support.’
‘No trouble, sweetheart. I’m glad to be of assistance. And have a lovely time with your friend. How are you anyway, lamb?’ Madeleine asked kindly.
‘Well, it’s a difficult time. I find it very rough emotionally. You know what Christmas is like. With all the memories and so on. I just have to put on a brave face for the children.’
‘Of course you do, pet. I’m sure it’s very hard. The only small comfort I can give you is that Miss Johnston won’t be having too jolly a Christmas either. You did hear the news that she’s been let go from S & S’s?’
‘Hmm, I did hear something in passing. I don’t know any of the details.’ Suzy was deliberately offhand.
‘Well, from what I can gather,’ Madeleine confided knowingly, ‘Malachy made a pass at her and she rejected him. Obviously she must have been leading him on. All that flirting. You know the way she carries on. Mona MacDonald was always extremely unhappy about it. She doesn’t trust Malachy an inch. Not that she’s really got anything to worry about, I’d say,’ Madeleine scoffed. ‘Who’d look twice at that little popinjay? But apparently Malachy, who thinks he’s Ireland’s answer to Cary Grant, propositioned Alexandra. He’s actually supposed to have groped her in the office. Can you believe it? Well, of course there’s no nooky with Mona and never has been . . . he welched on that, according to Victor. Poor Mona will die wondering. Maybe he was overcome with lust or something. Alexandra seems to have that effect on men,’ Madeleine sighed.
‘But who told you all this?’ Suzy was gobsmacked.
‘One of the girls in the typing pool knows Laura Henderson’s daughter. She told the daughter, the daughter told Laura and Laura told me. I don’t know how true it all is. But it doesn’t surprise me in the least.’
‘How sleazy.’ Suzy wrinkled her nose in distaste.
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