Two For Joy

by Patricia Scanlan

  She’d bought more curtain material with her mother and Anne had spent hours at the sewing machine working away, delighted that one of her darlings was back home in Kilronan. Her mother had cleaned the place with her from top to bottom to remove the builder’s dust and as the four-roomed apartment became more homely, and she saw the happiness in her daughter’s eyes, she stopped fretting about the fact that Heather was not going to live at home. It was a huge relief to Heather that her mother wasn’t kicking up a fuss, it made her return to Kilronan much easier all round.

  When Oliver had called in on Christmas Eve to make sure that she and Neil were happy with the finished product, Heather was practically dancing on air. This truly was going to be the happiest Christmas of her life, she thought, as she stood at the bedroom door and looked into her new room. A double bed, dressed in a lightly quilted white and lilac coverlet that matched the curtain material, dominated the room. Two pine bedside lockers and a pine wardrobe and dressing-table unit completed the simple furnishings, but she was enthralled with it. The walls were painted white with a hint of pink. It was a warm, south-facing room from which she could see the lake in the distance. Across the landing a small galley kitchen looked on to the fields behind Neil’s garage. A nice view to watch the changing seasons when she was cooking. Beside the kitchen a tiled bathroom with a walk-in shower unit completed her living arrangements.

  She felt she was living in a palace.

  ‘Like it?’ Neil asked, slipping his arms around her.

  ‘I love it,’ she assured him. ‘You know what I think we should do?’ she added, staring him steadily in the eye.

  ‘What?’

  ‘After we’ve christened the bed, I think we should put up a Christmas tree.’ A blush crept up her cheeks at her forwardness.

  His jaw dropped. ‘Do you mean it?’

  ‘If you want to,’ she said shyly. ‘I’ve never done it before though, so I mightn’t be very good at it.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said tenderly, kissing her nose. ‘I bet you’ll be brilliant at it. Come on, let’s give it a try.’ He linked his arm into hers and they walked over to the bed.

  ‘I’m not a twig,’ she said doubtfully as he started to unzip her fleece.

  ‘That makes two of us,’ he laughed as he slipped his hands under her top and expertly unhooked her bra. His fingers started to caress her, sending delightful quivers careering all over her, and she forgot about not being a perfect size ten as she began to eagerly open the buttons of his shirt, suddenly as eager to make love as he was.

  Later as she lay drowsily in the curve of his arm she smiled up at him. ‘Did you enjoy it?’ he asked lazily.

  ‘Yessss,’ she murmured. ‘It was lovely. I just feel soooo relaxed. Poor Lorna, the first time she did it with Derek Kennedy was a real let down, she was in bits after it and said it was a disaster.’

  ‘Now why does that not surprise me?’ Neil remarked. She gave him a little puck in the ribs.

  ‘Don’t be like that,’ she chided.

  ‘Nothing would ever be right for the likes of her,’ Neil observed perceptively. He turned to her and kissed her. ‘What are we talking about her for when we can do this?’ he murmured, cupping her breast in his hand.

  It was late into the afternoon before they finally went off, hand in hand, in search of a last-minute Christmas tree. The two happiest people in Kilronan.

  19

  Noreen shivered and tucked her chin deeper into her scarf as she walked with Oliver towards St Joseph’s church for midnight Mass. It was a cold, frosty, starlit night and a full flaxen moon seemed to sit on the point of the spire casting an ethereal glow over the church grounds. Neighbours and acquaintances called white-breathed seasonal greetings as the Mass-goers streamed towards the great teak doors, festooned with wreaths of red-berried holly. It was a beautiful night, and normally Noreen would have enjoyed the Christmas atmosphere and joined in the carol singing with gusto. Last year she’d been very happy going to midnight Mass. Her first as a married woman. She’d felt serene, contented, and very optimistic. Now she had to make a conscious effort to try to stem the tide of resentment, anger, disappointment and unhappiness that constantly threatened to engulf her.

  She cast a sideways glance at her husband’s profile. Jaw set, firm mouth drawn down, he looked as miserable as she felt. She sighed deeply as they crunched their way up frosty, pine-cone-filled steps. There had been a strain between them since the night she’d asked him to go for tests. After his explosive reaction to her suggestion, she hadn’t expected him to arrive home within the hour or expected him to say grimly, ‘I’ll go for those tests if you want me to, just tell me what you want me to do.’

  As matter-of-factly as she could, she’d explained that he’d have to go to a maternity hospital to give a semen sample to test his sperm count. She’d get a letter of referral from Doctor Kennedy.

  ‘I don’t want him knowing my business, I’ll go to someone else,’ he said brusquely and that was the end of the conversation.

  So far he hadn’t mentioned a word about it and it was getting to her. He knew how important this was to her, he could at least make an effort and get his skates on. Time was of the essence in case she needed fertility treatment. If he didn’t do something about it soon she was going to go and have her own tests done. At least she’d know then, one way or the other, whose fault it was and if anything could be done.

  ‘I want to sit up at the front, Oliver,’ Cora declared as they went into the porch. They had given Oliver’s mother a lift to Mass and her eyes were bright with anticipation. She loved midnight Mass and proudly informed Noreen that she hadn’t missed one in the past thirty-five years. She’d chattered away in the front seat of the car and for once Noreen was glad of her presence, as it meant she didn’t have to make an effort to talk to Oliver. And that was what it was lately, she thought sadly. An effort. He’d gone quiet and moody and shut himself off from her. Maybe he might thaw over Christmas; if she was lucky he might even make love to her. He hadn’t come near her in the last few weeks and she missed their intimacy and the comforting feel of his strong arms around her.

  ‘Well, helloo,’ Maura trilled gaily as she stood chatting with Andy to one of their neighbours. ‘Happy Christmas, and to you too, Oliver, and Mrs Flynn.’

  ‘Happy Christmas to you both,’ Oliver said politely. Cora gave a regal nod, as if accepting homage, and proceeded into the church and up the aisle. Noreen smiled into her scarf. Maura might think she was someone, but in Mrs Flynn’s eyes she was well below the salt.

  Maura patted her substantial bump. ‘It has to be a fella, he’s hopping and lepping like a flea in there. The kicks!’ She rolled her eyes up to heaven theatrically.

  ‘A full forward for sure,’ Andy exclaimed jovially and Noreen could smell the brandy fumes off him. He’d obviously started seasonal celebrations early.

  ‘How are you keeping, Maura?’ Noreen asked civilly, wishing she hadn’t bumped into her sister and brother-in-law.

  ‘Great, not a bother, thanks. Listen, we’re having a few people in for champagne and smoked salmon after Mass, why don’t the two of you call in? We’d love to have you,’ Maura invited cordially.

  ‘Yes, yes, come along and have a couple of snifters!’ Andy whacked Oliver on the back.

  ‘Ah … ah … we have to bring Mrs Flynn home after Mass,’ Noreen pointed out hastily.

  ‘Bring her along too,’ Andy said ebulliently.

  Maura flashed him a look of irritation. ‘It might be a bit late for her. Why don’t you come back with us, Noreen, and when Oliver has dropped his mother home he can join us,’ she said smoothly. ‘Come on, we haven’t seen the pair of you in ages.’

  Noreen glanced at Oliver in dismay. She knew a soirée at Maura and Andy’s was the last thing he’d want. It was the last thing she wanted, for heaven’s sake, but she felt churlish saying no and she felt more than a little guilty for not being more supportive to her sister in her pregnancy.


  ‘Well, I suppose we could go for an hour or so,’ she said doubtfully.

  ‘Excellent,’ Maura approved. ‘We’ll wait for you in the porch after Mass. We’d better go in or we won’t get a decent seat.’

  The strains of ‘Silent Night’ wafted through the decorated church, as Oliver and Noreen hurried up the aisle and slipped into the front row with Cora.

  ‘What do you want to go back there for?’ growled Oliver as they settled themselves in the seat.

  ‘What else could I say?’ hissed Noreen. ‘I didn’t see you coming up with any brilliant excuse and besides, she is my sister,’ she added tartly. ‘You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.’

  He didn’t answer her, just picked up the Mass leaflet and studied it intently.

  Noreen sizzled silently. Peace and Goodwill to all mankind indeed, she fumed as Cora cast a censorious look in their direction. The choir began to sing ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’, incense wafted around the altar, and Father Walters’s kindly tones welcomed them all to church before beginning the Mass. Noreen tried her best to immerse herself in the comforting, familiar ritual, hoping for some sort of spiritual sustenance.

  Two and a half hours later she was enjoying sustenance of a rather more secular nature. The hum of chatter and laughter surrounded her as she nibbled on smoked salmon and brown bread and quaffed her third glass of champagne. Maura was in her element bustling around and Andy played the expansive host with great aplomb, his hail-fellow-well-met veneer even more exaggerated with the amount of drink he had consumed.

  Noreen didn’t like him, she acknowledged a little tipsily. He was a gropy, leery drunk and she’d seen him making the most of his snoggy kisses with various women under the mistletoe. She’d made sure to keep well out of his way. She didn’t really know why she was here. It was almost to spite Oliver, she thought glumly, wishing paradoxically that he would come and rescue her.

  ‘I must show you the nursery.’ Maura came up to her and offered her another canapé. ‘I went for neutral colours, lots of Winnie-the-Pooh bits and pieces, because I don’t want to know whether it’s a boy or a girl. Although I do think it’s a boy. You know the way they say you can tell by the way you’re carrying? What do you think?’ her sister asked earnestly.

  Noreen swallowed. ‘It’s hard to know, Maura, and obstetrics aren’t my area of expertise, but you do seem to be carrying to the back, so it could be a boy. Have you any preferences?’

  ‘I don’t mind really as long as it’s all right.’ She cleared her throat and drew her sister to a quiet corner of the large, ornately decorated room. Maura went in for lots of swags and frills and glass cabinets full of china and ornaments. Noreen looked at her quizzically, wondering what was coming. It wasn’t like Maura to want tête-à-têtes with her.

  ‘Noreen, I was just wondering … ahh … well you see Andy doesn’t like the prenatal classes, he fainted at the birth video and he doesn’t want to be there … and besides, I read somewhere that men are put off sex after watching a birth, so I was just wondering if you’d come with me when I’m giving birth? I’m a bit petrified to be honest,’ she blurted anxiously. Noreen had never seen her normally bumptious younger sister so flustered. Her heart softened in spite of herself.

  ‘Of course I’ll come,’ she answered without hesitation, wanting to kick Andy in the goolies. She could see him mauling some new arrivals.

  ‘Oh, thanks a million, Noreen! Look, here’s Niamh and Sophie Lindsay. I’d better go and say hello. I’ll be back in a sec.’ Maura gave her an awkward pat on the arm and hurried over to greet her guests.

  Noreen watched her go, astonished at her own reaction to her sister’s request. Blood must be thicker than water, she thought wryly. Imagine her agreeing to be there for the birth. She the barren woman. Tears smarted her eyes and she turned her head and brushed them away, afraid someone would see.

  Why didn’t Oliver hurry up and come to bring her home? It was mean of him, mean, mean, mean, she seethed. And she’d damn well let him know what she thought of him before the night was over.

  * * *

  Cora bustled around happily making tea for Oliver. What a bonus to have him to herself after midnight Mass. And even better, himself and Noreen looked as if they were having some sort of tiff; they hardly had two words to say to each other. Maybe he’d realize now that he should have listened to her and stayed single. Stayed with her to look after him as only she could.

  ‘Now Oliver, here’s the first piece of Christmas cake, I cut it specially for you,’ she said, proudly handing him a slice on one of her good china plates. She was delighted with the cake this year. It had turned out beautifully rich and golden, the fruit evenly distributed throughout. The previous year her cake had got slightly burned at the edges and the fruit had sunk a little and she’d been very vexed about it.

  She poured herself a cup of tea and sat in her chair by the fire, the log she had thrown on the embers when she came in flaming nicely. She watched her son covertly. He was eating the cake, but his mind was miles away. He looked tired, stressed, and was it her imagination or were there grey flecks at his temples and were the lines around his mouth and eyes grooved deeper than she’d ever seen? Oliver normally had a healthy, energetic air about him but tonight he was certainly not himself. She felt a niggle of worry. She didn’t like to see him like this. What if there was something wrong with him? He wasn’t the sort to go confiding in her. It had never been his way. They weren’t much for hugging or kissing either, she felt awkward with that kind of nonsense, but if there was something wrong with him she’d like to know. She cleared her throat. ‘Er … aahh … you’re very quiet tonight, Oliver, and you’re not looking the best. What is the matter with you?’ she ventured.

  Oliver took a gulp of tea and shook his head. ‘Not a thing, Ma, not a thing,’ he said easily. Too easily, Cora thought crossly. Something was up and he wasn’t telling her and the sooner she got to the bottom of the matter the better.

  * * *

  Oliver shivered and pulled the collar of his coat up to his ears as he slid the bolt into his mother’s gate and got back into the car. It was freezing hard and he set the wipers to fast speed to get the ice off the windows, the hot water he’d already poured on them freezing up again. He yawned tiredly. It had been cosy and warm at his mother’s and he would have loved to have gone for a snooze in front of the fire and then stumbled bleary-eyed to bed in his old bedroom, his limbs stretched to the four winds with no one to bother him. He glanced at the clock on the dash. It was gone two a.m. Noreen would be doing handstands wondering where he was. His heart sank at the thought of going to make polite conversation with his in-laws. They’d all be well lubricated and he’d be stone cold sober and Andy would be trying to force brandy on him even though he was driving.

  He sat staring out at the starry night, the Plough and Orion’s Belt etched into the inky black sky, Mars and the North Star twinkling steadfastly and the swirling curlicues of the Milky Way as mysterious as the first time he’d seen them. Normally the sight would delight him, he never wearied of gazing at the stars, but tonight the magnificence of the universe could not lift his spirits. As soon as Christmas was over he’d better get his ass in gear and get himself to some doctor to get the damned letter of referral for that damned test. He’d told Noreen he’d do it and he never went back on his word. But now that she’d put the idea in his head that the fault might lie with him he was worried. If he couldn’t father a child and she wouldn’t adopt, what lay ahead for them? The thought oppressed him.

  Reluctantly he put the car into gear and drove off along the winding road, wondering how his life had gone so badly astray.

  * * *

  ‘God Almighty, Oliver, you might have come and rescued me a bit earlier,’ Noreen grumbled as she got into the car. It was almost three a.m. and she was pissed, tired and extremely fed up. ‘And then when you finally did come you sat in a corner and wouldn’t say two words to anyone. You could try to make the
effort,’ she nagged.

  ‘I leave that to you, you’re so good at it,’ he muttered irritably.

  ‘Don’t be a smart bastard, Oliver.’

  ‘Look, I didn’t want to go there in the first place,’ he snapped. ‘That fool Andy couldn’t get it into his thick skull that I wasn’t going to drink and drive and he pestered me the whole time I was there to have a bloody brandy, and Maura was as bad. If I get caught for drink driving I may throw my hat at it, you think they’d realize that without it having to be spelt out for them, bloody idiots.’

  ‘Don’t call my family bloody idiots,’ Noreen exploded.

  ‘Well, they are.’ Oliver was in no humour to be trifled with.

  ‘Yeah, well, what about that old witch of a mother of yours that I have to put up with?’ she raged, her cheeks scarlet with drink and temper.

  ‘You knew what you were getting into when you married me,’ Oliver growled. ‘You had a choice.’

  ‘So did you,’ she flared. ‘Sometimes I wonder just why you married me?’

  ‘Because you asked me to,’ Oliver said coldly.

  Noreen felt the blood drain from her cheeks as the impact of his words washed over her like an icy shower. Suddenly she felt stone cold sober.

  ‘Oh Oliver!’ she said faintly. ‘That was a cruel thing to say.’

  ‘Maybe it was, but you asked me and I told you the truth,’ Oliver said angrily. He knew he’d hurt her. The words had burst out of him, there was no point in backtracking and making it worse, not in the humour both of them were in.

  The remainder of the journey passed in silence and when they got home, Noreen went straight upstairs, got her nightdress and dressing-gown from their bedroom and went into the guest room down the landing.

  Oliver, now that he was home and didn’t have to worry about drinking and driving, poured himself a large tumbler of whiskey and drank it neat. Tonight he wanted to sleep and no troubling thoughts of Noreen’s hurt feelings were going to keep him awake, he fumed, raging with himself for hurting her, even if a small part of him deep in his heart acknowledged the truth of what he’d said.