‘And Bernice wasn’t?’
Carl’s eyes darkened. ‘Fun and Bernice don’t even belong in the same sentence.’
‘I know it’s none of my business—’
‘You’re right, Roisin, it’s not,’ said Carl.
‘It’s just that you and Bernice were together a long time. And we all loved her.’
‘I think the more pertinent question there is whether she and I loved each other.’
Roisin was momentarily abashed, then she looked him straight in the eye. ‘You’re supposed to be on a break,’ she reminded him. ‘That implies that you still love each other but that you’re working through some issues. I’m not entirely convinced that working through them with Miss Bubblegum there is the way forward.’
‘Fortunately it’s not up to you,’ said Carl. ‘And Summer’s a lovely girl, so don’t start dissing her in front of me.’
‘OK, OK,’ she said. ‘How old is she?’
‘Twenty-two,’ said Carl.
‘Are you sure you’re not having a mid-life crisis?’
‘If I am, I’m loving it,’ said Carl and walked back to the centre of the veranda, where Davey and Camilla had just arrived.
Steffie was still in the kitchen watching Summer mix her mojito when she heard a squeal of delight from Roisin and the sound of her brother’s voice. She hurried outside and flung herself at Davey, laughing as he gave her a massive bear hug. As he introduced them to Camilla, Steffie and Roisin exchanged awed glances. She was as sophisticated as Summer was brash and as reserved as the other girl was outgoing. And although she also had blond hair in an updo, hers was sleek and smooth – and, Steffie thought, fighting back the uncharitable thought, the colour was natural. Camilla wore a figure-hugging print dress and elegant strappy sandals. She was even more staggeringly beautiful than her Facebook photos.
‘It’s lovely to meet you.’ Roisin was immediately regretting that she’d decided to wear a pair of flat sandals herself. She’d chosen them because she thought they’d be good for a day when she’d be mostly on her feet, and they were very pretty, with blue and white sequins and a large silver buckle, but they meant that Camilla was towering over her. In fact all of the women were. She was used to it with Steffie, but now Summer had returned to the veranda, mojito in hand, and was standing on the other side of her, making her feel like the short straw in a pack. Dammit, she thought. When I was a full-time working woman I didn’t dress for comfort. As soon as I get back to Dublin, I’m going shopping. Although, she conceded, it was a long time since she’d shopped for style rather than comfort.
Steffie wasn’t quite as intimidated as her sister, because even in kitten heels she was taller than Summer and able to look Camilla in the eye. But she could see that Camilla’s dress and jewellery were quietly expensive and not the cheap and cheerful stuff that she was wearing herself. (She hadn’t figured out if Summer’s sundress was designer or not. Either way, there wasn’t much of it to assess.) She shook hands with Camilla and asked her what she’d like to drink, and when Camilla said that Summer’s mojito looked nice, she turned to Carl’s girlfriend and asked her if she’d mind taking over bar duties again.
‘Love to.’ Summer caught the startled Camilla by the hand and pulled her towards the kitchen so that she could watch her drink being made.
‘There’s beer in the cooler,’ Carl told his cousin. ‘I reckon that’s more your tipple than a cocktail.’
‘Lead me to it.’ Davey ambled towards the far end of the veranda, followed by Steffie.
‘Heavens, Davey,’ she murmured as he grabbed a can. ‘You’re punching above your weight with that girl.’
‘You cheeky thing.’ He made an amused face at her. ‘She’s lucky to have me.’
‘Well, of course,’ Steffie agreed with a smile. ‘But you’ve got to admit she’s a stunner.’
This time Davey laughed. ‘She’s more than that. She’s a vice president of the company she works for, is paid way more than me and is ferociously intelligent.’
‘As well as being a babe? Then you’re definitely punching above your weight.’ Steffie laughed too.
‘Actually,’ said Davey quietly, ‘I agree with you. I have to keep pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. She’s great, she really is.’
‘You sound sort of serious there,’ said Steffie.
‘Could be.’
She opened her eyes wide. ‘Something more permanent on the cards?’
‘I’m thinking that way.’
‘Oh my God!’
‘Don’t say anything!’ Davey glanced to where Roisin, Carl and Sarah were standing. ‘It’s not … I haven’t …’
‘My lips are sealed,’ she promised him. ‘But it’s very exciting, Davey.’
They both looked towards Summer and Camilla, who’d walked outside again with their drinks.
‘Before we rejoin the others,’ Davey said, ‘whose idea was it to hire the cocktail waitress?’
The doorbell was beginning to ring more regularly as the garden filled up with friends and relatives. Summer’s mojito was proving very popular and she continued to make them good-naturedly for anyone who asked.
‘We’ll run out of mint soon,’ Roisin muttered to Steffie.
‘Not before we run out of rum,’ Steffie replied.
‘I should have thought of cocktails.’ Roisin looked annoyed. ‘But I assumed everyone would be on beer or wine.’
‘Hopefully the sparkling rosé will distract them,’ said Steffie. ‘Or Summer might get fed up mixing them.’
‘Oh look! Lucinda and Alivia are here.’ Roisin was distracted by the arrival of her mother’s youngest sister and her daughter.
‘About time,’ said Steffie as she waved at them, and then added an ‘oops’ when she realised that Lucinda was wearing an almost identical floral dress to Sarah.
‘Oops indeed,’ said Alivia as she kissed Steffie in greeting. The two girls had always been friendly, although most of their contact was through social media these days, as Alivia and her mother lived in Galway. ‘Mum thinks she’s the youngest, hippest of the three of them. She’s not going to be impressed at being in the same dress as Aunt Sarah.’
‘How in God’s name did they manage that?’ Roisin muttered under her breath. ‘They live two hundred kilometres apart, for heaven’s sake.’ She was becoming increasingly irritated by things she could do nothing about. Her own flat sandals. The arrival of Summer. The popularity of the mojitos. And now her aunts’ fashion faux pas. Unforeseen events when she’d tried so hard to anticipate everything about the day. Hopefully, she thought, everything else is under control. And indeed there was nothing else to surprise or annoy her as the remainder of the guests turned up, including Mr and Mrs Kinsella (who checked to see that her flower arrangement was looking fresh and vibrant) and finally Roisin’s own family. Paul said he’d passed Jenny and Pascal on the road and he reckoned they were about twenty minutes behind them.
‘OK, everyone!’ cried Roisin. ‘They’ll be here soon.’ She told Daisy and Poppy to stand at the front window and watch out for their grandparents. They were to let her know the instant they turned into the driveway so that everyone would be ready to surprise them. The other younger children insisted on joining them, so that in the end, there was a small crowd on the lookout.
‘What about the boyfriend you’re taking it easy with?’ Roisin turned to Steffie. ‘Is he coming?’
‘Oh, he called earlier,’ Steffie replied. ‘He’s working and can’t make it.’
‘Hmm,’ said Roisin.
Steffie glanced at her, but her sister’s face was neutral. She walked into the kitchen, but Carl and Summer were in there together, foreheads touching, and she beat a hasty retreat, thinking dark thoughts about her sister, her boyfriend and her cousin in equal measure.
Then Daisy cried out that Grandad and Granny’s car was at the gate. There was a flurry of movement as everyone tried to take up position out of sight on the veranda and Roisin told th
em all to be very quiet and not make a sound.
‘All very well for you to say,’ said Charlie, Pascal’s brother. ‘I had beans for dinner.’
‘Charlie!’ His sister-in-law, Moya, glared at him.
‘It’s a joke,’ the older man grumbled.
‘Please be quiet,’ begged Roisin. ‘We don’t want to spoil anything.’
Everyone held their breath. Then they heard the key in the front door and got ready to surprise the anniversary couple.
Chapter 7
Jenny’s thoughts on her way from Dublin to Wexford were almost entirely about her children and what sort of mother she’d been to them. She frequently asked herself that question and just as frequently feared that she’d been wanting in a lot of respects. And yet, she thought, she’d raised them to be independent people, able to cope with life on their own. Even Steffie was managing to keep her head above water with that company of hers despite being the child most like Jenny herself – dreamy and not entirely practical. Admittedly she and Pascal had helped her out in ways they hadn’t had to with Roisin or Davey, but it had been worth it to see their younger daughter finally finding her place. Davey, her easy-going son, seemed to have found his place too, although she wished it wasn’t in another country. But he was happy with his latest girlfriend. Davey didn’t do love and girlfriends very well, so despite the fact that – like all Irish mothers – she would have liked him to settle down at home with someone suitable, she was pleased he’d found someone he was happy with, at least for now. Roisin, of course, had never really been a worry because practically from the moment she’d been born she had been quietly determined about what she wanted from life. And so far, she’d got it.
Which meant, Jenny thought, she’d done a reasonably good job. And that would surely have to stand her in good stead when she ended up talking to them about things she’d rather not have to talk to them about. When she eventually told them about the mistakes she’d made when she was as young as – and younger than – they were now. It wasn’t as if they weren’t aware of some of them. Roisin knew that she’d been an unplanned pregnancy when Jenny was only twenty-one. Jenny had told her that she had made them into a family, and she occasionally thought that Roisin’s habit of organising everyone and everything stemmed from the fact that she’d been the cause of her parents staying together in the first place. Or maybe it was simply because she had a bossy eldest child!
She knew that Roisin would have views on everything she needed to talk to them about too. She’d been putting it off, telling Pascal that it would be best to get them all together. Pascal had raised his eyebrows at that and Jenny knew the argument wasn’t exactly a good one. There had been plenty of time to talk to the three of them together years ago. But they were both to blame for not saying anything before now. There was a comfort in the status quo, in not dragging up things from the past. Except that everyone had a right to know.
Or did they? It was a valid question. These days everyone thought they should know everything about everybody. And with Facebook and Twitter and all sorts of other social media sites, they also seemed to feel obliged to tell everybody everything. That wasn’t how Jenny had been brought up. Her parents, Kay and Terry, had believed in keeping your private life private and never washing your dirty laundry in public. There was none of this ‘talking things through’ that was so popular nowadays. You did something, you kept it to yourself. That was the way back then. It might not always have been right, Jenny conceded, but it still had a lot to recommend it.
That was then. This was now. Times had changed. And the trouble with that, Jenny thought, was that things you hadn’t talked about became secrets. And secrets took on a life of their own. Which meant that when they finally came into the light, people could misjudge your motives for keeping them in the first place.
She sighed.
‘Everything OK?’ Pascal glanced at her.
‘Don’t mind me,’ she said. ‘Just thinking.’
‘Hard work?’ He smiled and so did she, but she couldn’t help the nagging worry that she hadn’t done as good a job as she’d hoped as a mother. And when she eventually got around to talking to them and explaining … She shook her head. Maybe she’d leave them a bundles of neuroses that would come back to haunt her in the future. She hoped not. She’d done her best. She’d learned from her mistakes. Although it hadn’t stopped her making them.
‘By the way,’ said Pascal when they arrived at the house and he slid the key into the lock. ‘I meant to mention it earlier.’
‘What?’
‘That I love you.’
At his words, her worries faded into insignificance. ‘I love you too.’
He didn’t open the door but instead pulled her close to him and kissed her.
‘Why, Mr Sheehan!’ She giggled. ‘Is that a gun in your pocket?’
‘Let’s go inside and check it out,’ he said.
When Jenny thought about it afterwards, the one positive thing she took out of it all was that at least they didn’t race up the stairs to the bedroom and tear the clothes off each other. There had been a time when they might have, but they were both hot and thirsty after the drive and so they headed for the kitchen instead. That was when Jenny realised the patio doors leading to the veranda were open. And when Pascal noticed the big banner saying ‘Happy Ruby Anniversary’. And when all of their invited guests shouted ‘Surprise!’ as Roisin appeared at the doorway.
‘Mum, Dad!’ she cried. ‘Welcome home. Happy anniversary!’
Poppy, who was in charge of the music mix, hit play on the iPod and Frank Sinatra singing ‘It Had to Be You’ filled the room.
Jenny and Pascal were in shock as Roisin took them by the hand and dragged them to the veranda.
‘My God,’ said Jenny when she saw how many people were there. And then, when Davey came forward and hugged her, she felt tears prickle at her eyes. Even Davey, she thought. That’s nice. Isn’t it?
‘Well done, Pascal!’ His older brother Charlie thumped him gently on the back. ‘Fair play to yeh! Forty years with the same woman. Couldn’t manage it meself, although maybe if it had been the beautiful Jenny I might have!’
Charlie had been divorced from Peggy for the past fifteen years. He turned up at every family occasion although most of the women in the family wished he wouldn’t – he had a habit of patting them on the behind and calling them ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’, which drove them mad.
‘Congrats, Mum.’ Steffie edged out of Charlie’s reach.
‘Yay, Grandma. Yay, Grandpa!’ Daisy pushed her way forward to hug them.
‘Jenny. Pascal. It’s such an honour to be here.’ Breege Behan, who was chairwoman of the local community centre, added her words. ‘Such a wonderful occasion. Many congratulations. You’re an example to us all.’
Jenny’s head and heart were pounding as she smiled blankly at her.
‘Forty years,’ said Roisin. ‘It’s so lovely to know that people can stay together. Breege is right, you’re an example to all of us – but I guess most especially to me and Paul. We’re hoping that we can match you sometime in the future.’ She glanced at Paul, who was busy uncorking the bottles of sparkling rosé wine that had been on special in Tesco the week before. Meanwhile Poppy and Daisy were handing glasses to all the guests.
‘A toast,’ said Paul when all of them had been filled. ‘To Jenny and Pascal. Marriage sometimes gets a bad press, but they’ve shown us how good it can be.’
‘Jenny and Pascal!’ cried the guests.
‘Speech,’ said Davey.
‘Um, well …’ Jenny looked at Pascal, a slightly hunted expression in her blue eyes.
‘This is a surprise,’ he said. ‘Well, of course it is, it was meant to be! So thank you for being so thorough about it.’
There was a murmur of laughter.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ continued Pascal. ‘Other than that the first thirty-nine years are the hardest.’
Everyone laughed. Jenny
’s hand tightened around the stem of her glass.
‘So happy for you,’ murmured Sarah. ‘So happy it all worked out for you. That you’ve managed it when so many of us didn’t.’
‘Thanks. Thanks.’ Jenny was too shocked to care that Sarah seemed to be getting a dig in at her. She looked around at all of them, uncertain if she was supposed to say anything herself and feeling that she should, that perhaps this was the exact right time. But suddenly everyone was laughing and talking and knocking back the sparkling rosé, and she realised that her own throat was dry and that she couldn’t speak at all. She swallowed a large mouthful of wine.
‘I know you were meant to be going to Cody’s tonight,’ Roisin told her. ‘But we’ve rebooked it for next week.’
‘Oh. OK.’ Jenny nodded.
‘And if you’d like to nip up and change, you’ll find your dress and jewellery laid out.’
‘Oh,’ said Jenny again. ‘Thank you, darling.’
‘No problem.’ Roisin kissed her. ‘Was it really a surprise?’
‘Totally.’
‘Good.’ Roisin looked pleased. ‘You deserve it.’
No I don’t, thought Jenny. It’s lovely to think that you believe I do, but … She tried to gather her thoughts. Pascal deserves it, she said to herself. He deserves to be acknowledged. As for me … She released her breath slowly. It didn’t matter, she told herself. It was a shock because she hadn’t expected it; hadn’t even dreamed that they’d do anything like this. But she wasn’t going to get into a flap about it. She’d never been someone who flapped. She always believed everything worked out for the best, and usually, in the end, it did. But she wished they hadn’t done it. She really did.
She looked in Pascal’s direction. Her husband was laughing with his brothers, his champagne glass already empty. He glanced up and caught her eye. And winked at her.
He’s a good man, she thought. I’m lucky to have him in my life. Luckier than anyone here will ever know.
Chapter 8
My Mother's Secret Page 6