If Malachy MacDonald thought for one second that he could trash her professional reputation and get away with it, he had another think coming. If he’d said anything derogatory about her to Arthur Reynolds she’d wipe the floor with him.
Another five days to her interview. It couldn’t come soon enough. She wished Christmas was well and truly over. She glanced at the scrawny artificial Christmas tree that stood in front of the balcony doors. It was a sad-looking affair. Chris had arrived home with it the previous day and insisted on putting it up. She thought he was mad. Maybe he was trying to cheer himself up because he would be on his own for Christmas. He was going to his mother’s for lunch – other than that he’d no plans, he’d informed her.
Alexandra hadn’t told him she was coming home early. She didn’t want him to know about her interview, in case she didn’t get the job. She’d tell him she’d come home early to save money. She was also curious to know if she would find him entertaining another woman. Knowing Chris, she wouldn’t put it past him. No! Surprise was the name of the game and she’d certainly surprise him.
‘Come on, Chris,’ she yelled. ‘I don’t have all day.’
‘What’s the rush? Here, Happy Christmas.’ Chris handed her a rectangular package. He gave her a peck on the cheek.
Alexandra unwrapped it briskly. Chanel No 5. How predictable. He certainly hadn’t sat down and racked his brains to think of something special. No more than she had for him, she acknowledged.
‘Thank you, darling. Very thoughtful.’ The sarcasm in her tone went completely over his head.
‘I know it’s your favourite, Alexandra.’ Chris smiled ingratiatingly.
‘You certainly know how to pamper a woman,’ Alexandra said dryly.
‘A sensual perfume for a sensual woman. That perfume was invented with you in mind.’ Chris kissed her hand gallantly.
‘You charmer.’ Alexandra laughed in spite of herself. ‘Come on, take my bag out to the car. I might buy a sexy nightie when I’m in London. And you can slide it off me inch by inch, when I get home.’
‘Hmmm,’ Chris murmured as he nuzzled her ear. ‘Have we time for a dress rehearsal?’
‘No, we don’t. You’ll have to save it all up for me.’ Alexandra gave him a sultry stare.
‘You’re cruel.’ Chris pressed himself against her. He was aroused.
‘But you like it when I’m cruel, don’t you?’ Alexandra caressed him.
‘Come on, Alexandra, let’s do it before you go away,’ Chris breathed, as he slid his hand inside her blouse.
‘Ah ah!’ Alexandra slapped him lightly. ‘All good things come to those who wait. Just think what a stallion you’ll be when I get back.’
‘Please, Alexandra,’ Chris urged frantically.
She slipped out of his embrace. She wouldn’t have actually minded a quickie, but this way was better. He’d have her on his mind while she was away. Keep them with their tongues hanging out was her motto. Rule number one. Tempt and tease.
‘Do I have to phone for a taxi?’ she purred.
‘You’re a witch, Alexandra.’ Chris growled.
‘Yeah. That’s me, wild and wicked. Think dirty thoughts when I’m gone and if you’re good . . . we’ll have a night of carnal lust, baby.’ She smiled seductively.
‘Promises, promises,’ Chris said dryly.
‘We’ll see, now drive me to the airport or I’ll miss my flight!’ Alexandra slipped her fur coat over her shoulders and sashayed out the door. She had Chris where she wanted him . . . right in the palm of her hand.
Chris watched Alexandra disappear through the departure gate. She was something else. When she put her mind to it, she could really turn him on. But it was just a game to her. She had no real feelings for him. And he had none for her. It was lust, plain and simple. He was under no illusion that she wanted him living with her because she was crazy about him. She needed him to pay the rent. Nothing more, nothing less. Well, he wouldn’t be a pawn in her little game for much longer. If things went to plan he’d be in the arms of a truly loving woman. Ellen would never turn him on and leave him dangling the way Alexandra just had. That was a mean thing to do. But Alexandra wouldn’t be so smart when he packed his bags and walked out of her life for good. Alexandra Johnston had picked the wrong man to mess around with, as she would find out to her cost. It would be her tough luck if she had to leave that apartment. He’d have no qualms about that at all.
It all depended on Ellen. Life was strange, he thought despondently, as he walked to his car. Once upon a time, Ellen had been desperate for him to be a part of her life. Now he was desperate for her to take him back. If only he could persuade her. All his problems would be over. He could live with her and Stephanie. His mother would feel he was taking some responsibility for past deeds. She liked Ellen, that was a huge plus. He’d have a roof over his head that wouldn’t cost him anything. A loving woman to take care of him. And Suzy and Alexandra could go whistle.
If he told Ellen that he’d left Suzy because he didn’t love her and that he was living in a flat – he needn’t say with whom – she’d surely feel sorry for him. She had such a soft heart. And she did love him very much. He’d always known that. If he told her that he couldn’t get her out of his head and that she haunted him night and day, and that he only wanted to be with her and be a father to Stephanie, she’d have to take him back.
It was what she’d always wanted. This time he’d make a commitment to her. Once Ellen realised he was serious about making a fresh start with her, she’d dump that builder bloke out on his ass where he belonged.
Ellen loved him. Always had and always would, he assured himself once more. And he loved her. Of all the women he’d ever been with, Ellen was the one he truly loved. Once she realised that, they’d be together for ever. Chris was full of confidence as he started the ignition and drove off into the night.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Well, there he goes.’ Mick rubbed his hands. ‘He’s left the North Pole and heading for Iceland. Time to get ready for bed, I think.’
‘How long will it take him to get here?’ Stephanie asked anxiously. She and Mick had been listening to Santa on the radio, reading out names and getting presents packed onto his sleigh, ready for his long trek.
‘Maybe three or four hours. Look where I showed you on the atlas. Where’s Ireland?’
Stephanie proudly pointed it out.
‘And the North Pole?’
Stephanie jabbed her thumb on the spot.
‘Excellent,’ her grandfather praised. Ellen hid a smile. Mick had gone through the same routine when she’d been a child. And he still made it all sound like the most exciting adventure ever.
‘Will the reindeers be very tired?’ There was a trace of anxiety in Stephanie’s tone. Ireland looked a long way away from the North Pole.
‘Oh, they’re powerful reindeers. They’ve been training for this night all year long, never you fear. They’ll be landing on this very roof in a few hours time,’ Mick assured her.
‘I just hope Santa remembers that I’m here and not in my own house,’ Stephanie fretted.
‘Stephanie, you saw me putting the note up the chimney to remind him. You saw it was gone the next morning. He won’t forget,’ Ellen said firmly.
‘I think it’s time to light the candle.’ Sheila bustled into the kitchen.
‘Can I do it, Nannie?’ Stephanie jumped up from the table.
‘Yes, but be careful,’ Sheila said fondly. She handed Stephanie the long red candle and led the way into the parlour. Mick and Ellen smiled at each other and followed. Sheila parted the heavy drapes on the window and pulled aside the net curtains.
‘Now place it in the holder and make sure it’s straight,’ she instructed.
Stephanie did as she was bid.
‘Now, Mick, switch off the light.’ Sheila smiled at her husband. Mick smiled back. They’d been through this ceremony every Christmas of their married life.
Ellen’s
resentment faded. Even though she’d wanted to spend Christmas in her own home, she was happy to share this little ceremony with them. And both her parents were as pleased as Punch to have Stephanie staying with them. Her childish excitement and anticipation brought back happy memories. Ellen would have been churlish to begrudge her parents a night of joy.
Sheila struck a match and handed it to her granddaughter. Solemnly, eyes as wide as saucers, Stephanie lit the wick and watched the candle flicker into light.
‘Dear Jesus, let our candle light Your way into the world this blessed night,’ Sheila prayed.
‘Amen,’ Mick, Ellen and Stephanie responded. They stood silently in the dark watching the candle flame brightly. In other windows across the valley candles shone like beacons. All over the country thousands of flickering lights sent their beams of welcome to the heavens.
Ellen clasped Stephanie’s hand. In two days time it would be her precious child’s birthday. Stephanie would be seven. How frightened and betrayed and distraught she’d been, awaiting the birth all those years ago. Miriam had been so kind to her that Christmas. And Chris, who’d never contacted her once, after he’d discovered she was pregnant, had got engaged without a care in the world. Seven years ago there’d been no light at the end of the tunnel. And yet here she was, a strong woman who’d come through it all. A woman who was at ease with herself.
Thank you, God. Somehow, on this special night, the silent prayer of thanks Ellen sent up seemed appropriate.
‘Right, Stephanie, let’s go and find the biggest stocking in my sock drawer. It’s time we hung it up!’ Mick decreed.
‘Ooohhh yes, Grandad!’ Stephanie skipped out of the room and up the stairs on the trail of the soon-to-be-filled Christmas stocking, her eyes dancing with excitement.
Mick winked at Ellen. ‘I got your mother to knit a huge one. Wait until she sees it.’
‘He’s worse than any child,’ Sheila declared but she was smiling.
Denise McMahon looked at the bulky rectangular box plonked inside the door of her shed and felt unbridled rage engulf her. It was a brand new Hoover. With six attachments. She’d watched her husband unloading it from his car the previous night. Denise knew it wasn’t for her. She had a vacuum. Why on earth would he buy her a new one? Especially now that he’d got so mean with his money and the atmosphere in the house was taut with tension.
It was a Christmas present for that scabby little cow he was screwing. Esther Dowling was reaping the benefits of Jimmy’s wage packet and their children were going short because of it. The money Jimmy’d given her to spend for Christmas was derisory. She’d had to dip into her precious earnings yet again. Every time she needed something new for the kids now, it was a battle.
‘Don’t be annoying me about bloody money, you’re always the same,’ Jimmy roared at her when she’d said she needed more than he’d given her to buy the girls Christmas clothes and toys.
He obviously hadn’t batted an eyelid when he’d been shelling out her housekeeping money for that Specky Spinster’s Christmas present. Esther had bought a new house in Swords and Jimmy was certainly helping her to furnish it. Doing the big fella with money he should be spending on his own family.
He was upstairs now, doing himself up. Denise had got the whiff of aftershave wafting out of the bathroom. He’d grunted that he was going out for a few hours. Denise knew where he was going. He was going over to Swords to throw his white skinny leg over that simpering little bitch with her wide innocent eyes and her Helpless-Little-Me ways.
Imagine, he couldn’t even spend Christmas Eve with his children. Denise clenched her fists in anger as she stood in the cold, dimly lit shed trying to compose herself. His two daughters were just a nuisance to him. She’d been Christmas shopping last week and she’d got delayed in Dublin. Then she’d missed the bus and had had to wait another hour for the next one. It was almost half seven when she got home.
Jimmy was waiting for her, face like a thundercloud. ‘Don’t you bloody think you’re landing me with them just because you’re working now and you haven’t time to be gadding about during the week,’ he’d ranted wrathfully. ‘Don’t pull any of your smart stunts on me.’
‘They’re your children too, Jimmy,’ Denise insisted.
‘You wanted ’em. You look after ’em,’ was the response she’d got. He didn’t even care if Lisa and Michelle overheard him. His daughters’ feelings meant nothing to him. He’d stormed out and hadn’t come home until cockcrow.
Denise filled her basin with potatoes from the sack. She was preparing the Christmas dinner and needed potatoes to parboil them for the morning. The more she’d prepared in advance, the better. He’d be at home for his Christmas dinner, the two-faced hypocrite. She scowled. And he’d be at Mass in the front seat, ready to do the collection. Everyone would think he was a great man. Ready to help out where he was asked. A real street angel and house devil. That’s what she was married to.
No one would believe that fine, upstanding, honest, hard-working Jimmy McMahon was capable of the lies, deviousness and emotional cruelty that he meted out to his wife and family. No one would believe her. She had to put on a façade of normality when visiting his relatives and hers. She was part of the lie because she hadn’t the guts to walk away from him and fend for herself.
She looked at the brown box that Esther would open with little squeals of delight. Did she ever see the dark side of him? Denise wondered. Or was he always charming to her? Did she ever see the moody, aggressive, abusive, threatening side of Jimmy or was that reserved solely for her and the girls. Probably. Her husband was sly. He could switch the charm on and off as required.
Tiredly she switched off the light and walked down the garden path to the back door. Jimmy was in the kitchen when she stepped inside. He was polishing his glasses. His hair was washed, his jaw smooth, shaved of its five-o’clock shadow. He smelt nice. He used to take care of himself and keep himself groomed when he was courting her but that had all worn off, once he’d got the ring on her finger and felt he was entitled to have sex whenever he wanted. Not that he’d been great in bed either. He was lazy and selfish, only concerned with his own pleasure. Her marital life had been a big disappointment. And now, because she couldn’t bear to be near him, she slept in her daughters’ room. Deprived of love and warmth and companionship and sex, all the things she’d expected when she’d said ‘I do.’ Her fairytale had had a very bitter ending. But he was having the life of Reilly.
‘I’ll need a white shirt ironed for Mass tomorrow,’ he grunted, his slitty brown eyes cold and hostile.
‘I ironed a white shirt for you,’ Denise snapped.
‘I’m wearing it.’
Denise put the basin of potatoes in the sink. She felt herself start to shake.
‘Listen you, if you want a white shirt ironed for Mass get your lazy little tart to iron it for you. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to do it for you when you give her her brand new Hoover. And the next time I see her, I’m going to ask her how she can live with herself knowing that the money you’re spending on her should be spent on your daughters and their home.’
‘By Christ, I’ll break your bloody neck!’ Jimmy advanced menacingly on her. His eyes were black with fury. Denise felt a sudden fear. He was six-foot four and he had his fists clenched. He was vicious. She shrank back.
‘You listen to me, ya poxy bitch,’ he roared, jabbing his finger into her face, ‘if you ever say anything like that to me again and if you ever go near Esther, I’ll punch you so hard in the face, I’ll break every tooth in your head. I’ll knock you into kingdom come. Do you hear me?’
‘Daddy! Stop it.’ Lisa and Michelle stood in the doorway, crying.
‘Do you hear me?’ Jimmy yelled, ignoring their distress.
‘Jimmy, stop it.’ Denise was horrified as well as petrified. How could he do this in front of the girls?
‘Just you remember,’ he warned and stabbed his finger hard into her shoulder. It hurt and she winced
.
‘There’s more where that came from,’ he threatened. He barged past Denise, out the back door, slamming it hard behind him. The sobbing little girls ran to her.
‘Mammy, I hate Daddy,’ Michelle sobbed.
‘Sshhh, sshhh, it’s all right.’ Denise hugged them close. ‘Don’t worry, it’s all right.’ She felt faint. Jimmy had come very close to striking her. Would that be the next step? A battering! She couldn’t think about it now. She had to reassure her daughters and create a semblance of normality.
‘We better put a glass of milk and some mince pies out for Santa,’ she said lightly, although her voice had a quiver in it.
‘Daddy told us there was no Santa. He said he bought the toys with his money,’ Michelle hiccuped.
‘What? When did he say that?’ Denise couldn’t believe her ears. How typically spiteful of Jimmy to take it out on the kids.
‘He said it the day he was minding us.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Denise asked weakly.
‘’Cos he told us not to. He told us we wouldn’t get any toys if we didn’t behave ourselves.’
‘You will get toys, pet. Don’t worry,’ Denise promised.
‘Is there no Santa, Mammy?’
Denise saw two pairs of doubtful brown eyes raised to hers.
What was she supposed to say?
‘What do you think?’ she asked gently, testing the water.
The younger one, Michelle, said solemnly, ‘I think there is one, ’cos a girl in my class saw his sleigh and heard bells in the sky last year.’
‘I think she’s absolutely right,’ Denise agreed. ‘Why don’t you go and get your stocking? And we’ll hang it up.’
‘Daddy’s not going to get anything ’cos he was really bad. And I wish he’d go away and never come back.’ Michelle marched out of the room, a very angry and confused little girl.
‘There’s no Santa, Mam, sure there isn’t?’ Lisa said flatly. ‘I know there isn’t.’
Wordlessly Denise held out her arms to her. Lisa slipped into her mother’s embrace and Denise stroked her head. ‘Don’t let on though to Michelle or Rebecca or Stephanie. We have to pretend.’
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