At ten-thirty, the phone rang. She nearly fell down the stairs in her haste to answer it, with Fiona hot on her heels. ‘It’s a girl! Nine pounds six ounces! Eve’s a bit shattered but she’s fine!’ Don was elated on the other end of the phone. ‘Let me tell Fiona!’
Liz put her arm around the little girl and handed her the phone. ‘Daddy wants to talk to you.’
She heard Don say, ‘You’ve got a little sister.’
She watched her niece’s blue eyes grow wide with wonder and felt a lump come to her throat. Idiot! she reprimanded herself, blinking the tears from her eyes. Hugh was always teasing her about crying at sad films.
‘I’ve got a new baby,’ Fiona beamed.
‘I know, it’s great, isn’t it? It’s so exciting.’ Liz hugged the little girl as they did a little dance of happiness in the hall.
They decided to finish the washing-up after breakfast. Fiona was putting away the cutlery. ‘Liz, did the baby come out of Mammy’s bottom?’ The three-year-old fixed her aunt with a piercing stare.
Liz’s jaw dropped. ‘Aah . . . mmm . . . ’ she stuttered inadequately.
Fiona gazed at her expectantly.
‘Well . . . ah . . . I don’t know, actually, I’ve never had a baby,’ she fibbed. ‘We’ll have to ask Mammy this afternoon. Why did you think that?’ Liz was curious to ascertain exactly what her niece knew, courtesy of her older, better-informed cousin.
‘I saw something on the telly.’ Fiona neatly laid the spoons one on top of the other.
Sacred Heart, thought Liz in horror, she’s seen a baby being born on the telly. And she’s only three! ‘What did you see?’ she asked, trying to be casual.
‘Me an’ John were watching the telly and we saw a baby cow being born and it came out of its mammy’s bottom,’ Fiona told her matter-of-factly. She worked industriously, her little red pigtails swinging cheerfully.
‘Oh I see,’ Liz murmured. ‘Well, we’ll ask Mammy this afternoon.’
‘Can I go out on my swing now?’ the little girl said, quite happy to ask her mother, who, in her eyes, knew everything.
That afternoon they went in to visit Eve. Her sister-in-law looked exhausted and could hardly move. ‘Three stitches!’ she groaned, but her expression was so proud and tender as she glanced at the cot beside her.
Liz leaned over and held her breath. A tiny little face with eyes tightly closed and a head of soft dark hair was all that she could see. The lump came to her throat again and she met Eve’s eyes. Her sister-in-law’s eyes were moist as they hugged each other. ‘Oh Eve, she’s beautiful!’ Liz whispered.
Fiona stood speechless, staring down at her new sister. Finding her voice she turned to her mother. ‘Oh mammy, she’s brill!’ The question of how the new baby had arrived was completely forgotten in the excitement.
‘It was so moving!’ Liz told Hugh later that night as she lay with her head resting on his chest.
‘You surprise me! You really do,’ he replied, caressing her cheek. ‘You’re such a maternal soul. I thought artists only had time for the muse. Sometimes I feel that if you had children you’d never paint again.’
‘Well, I’d paint them,’ Liz laughed. ‘But you’re probably right. If I had children I’d spend most of my time rearing them. And what’s wrong with that?’ she asked defensively.
‘It would be a bit of a waste of your talent,’ he pointed out.
‘Don’t you think raising children and giving them as happy and carefree a childhood as possible is a talent?’ Liz retorted. ‘It really annoys me the way housewives and mothers are downgraded. It’s the hardest thing in the world to rear children, for all the thanks mothers get.’
‘Don’t get on your high horse,’ Hugh responded calmly. ‘I was merely noticing that your maternal feelings are so totally at odds with your media image.’
‘Well I didn’t create my media image and frankly I couldn’t care less what people think. I think motherhood is as demanding a career as any and if ever I’m lucky enough to have children the media can go and whistle,’ Liz said grumpily. Hugh wasn’t the slightest bit interested in children. He had told her many times that he wouldn’t dream of settling down to have a family until he was at the top of his career. He’d always been very straight about that, she couldn’t deny it. Neither could she deny that more than anything she longed for a child.
Hugh and she had been together for several years now. And mostly it had been good. Both maintained their own establishments. Liz had settled into Apartment 3B. Hugh had his mews in Donnybrook. It was a system that suited them. Hugh was often away making programmes and Liz liked the freedom living on her own gave her. She could paint when she liked and come and go as she pleased and still have the comfort of a steady relationship. Because she had been on her own for so long she felt that she had become a little selfish and used to doing as she liked. Her relationship with Hugh was nothing like her marriage to Matt. But then Hugh was nothing like Matt either. Hugh’s career was everything to him and Liz, whom he did love, realized this more than any other woman he had been with. He often told her so. It was something she could not quite understand. Liz loved her own work and was as ambitious as the next person, but to her, family and friends were far more important than any success she could ever achieve from her painting. She would never be as driven to succeed as Hugh was and this was the greatest difference between them. They often argued bitterly when he had to break plans they had made because of the demands of his job.
One night she cooked a special dinner for him. It was his birthday and she had gone to a lot of trouble to have everything just so. He arrived three hours late, and the minute he walked in the door, she knew he was high on something. Liz knew he snorted coke. Hugh had taken her to a party in Ballsbridge once and everybody was nipping into the bathroom to do a line. She had seen enough of it in America to know what was going on. ‘Just try a little bit. It’s really something. You’ll be on a high for the rest of the evening,’ Hugh urged. Liz wouldn’t touch the stuff and she hated to see him using it. No matter how much he tried to convince her that he could give it up any time and that he only took it because of the stressful demands of his job, Liz was not happy about his habit and she let him know it. That night when he arrived as high as a kite and full of the joys of spring she had let fly, accusing him of being totally irresponsible for driving in that state in the first place and warning him that if he ever came to her like that again it was over between them.
‘You’re overreacting, Liz!’ he snapped. ‘I’m totally in control. And don’t start doing your nagging housewife bit. That I can do without!’
‘Well, if you had an ounce of good manners I wouldn’t have to,’ she yelled furiously. ‘And don’t think for one moment that you’re in control because you’re not! How can you even begin to fool yourself that you are? You’re as bad, if not worse, than any drunken driver.’
‘Ah, for Christ’s sake, Liz. You’re paranoid about drunken drivers,’ he retorted angrily.
‘Matt was killed by a drunken driver!’ Liz’s voice shook with fury.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, spare me the Saint Matt bit!’ Hugh snorted. ‘Have you any idea what it’s like trying to live up to a paragon of virtue? He’d never take a little whiff of coke! Oh, perish the thought!’
‘Get out! Get out, Hugh. Now!’ Liz was white with anger.
‘I’m going, Liz.’ He flung the bottle of wine he was carrying on to the sofa and slammed the door behind him.
Liz was sorely tempted to pick it up and fling it after him but restrained herself. No doubt the whole apartment block had heard their row. She’d be the subject of a few curious looks the next day. Blowing out the romantic candles on the table with vicious gusto she marched into her studio and began to paint with a vengeance, slashing on the colours until the fury had drained out of her. How dare he talk about Matt like that! Just who did he think he was! Well, he could get out of her life if that was the way he felt.
Sleep would not
come that night. Did she want Hugh out of her life? Had she canonized her late husband so much that Hugh felt defensive about it. She hadn’t done it intentionally. She and Matt had never argued like she argued with Hugh. But then she had only been with Matt a year. The rosy bloom of newly wedded bliss had not yet worn off when he was killed and they hadn’t begun to irritate each other about little things as most couples did after spending a long time together. She and Matt had not had to make the huge adjustments that she and Hugh had to make in their relationship – a relationship that was strong and supportive despite their occasional differences. She supposed it wasn’t that easy for him to have to live with the ghost of her dead husband. Liz sighed. Hugh could be so bull-headed sometimes, but then she wasn’t perfect and God knows he put up with her. She decided she’d ring him first thing in the morning to talk things over and by then his anger might have died down. At least they could always talk about things. It was one of the things she liked about him. He was always willing to see the other person’s argument. No doubt this trait had been developed by the job he was in.
In fact, she slept late and it was Hugh’s phone call that woke her. ‘Hello,’ she murmured groggily, struggling to come to a state of wakefulness.
‘Hi. It’s me and I’m sorry. I was out of order!’ Hugh’s deep voice penetrated her muzziness and she came instantly awake.
‘Well, it was a bit below the belt . . . ’ She wasn’t letting him get off that lightly.
She heard a deep sigh at the other end of the phone. ‘I know. I apologize.’
‘Apology accepted,’ Liz said evenly, never one to hold a grudge. ‘I salvaged the dinner if you want to come over tonight.’
‘I’d like that.’ She could sense that he was smiling. They talked into the early hours that night and he assured her that his cocaine habit was nothing to be concerned about. Nevertheless, despite his assurances that his drug-taking was merely occasional and recreational, Liz worried about it.
She was still up to her eyes in work. After the success of her exhibition, offers continued to pour in. She had settled very nicely into her new apartment. Once she moved in, she decorated it to her own taste in light airy pastel colours that always had a calming effect upon her. She had turned the second bedroom into a studio where she spent many hours painting happily. In the mornings, early, she would use the pool and she and Hugh frequently played tennis on the complex’s court. The facilities were excellent and, having settled in, Liz felt she had made the right decision.
It took a while before she got to know her neighbours. Usually she would meet them in the lift or in the foyer. Directly underneath her were the two sisters, Muriel and Maud. They had given her a few strange looks at first, obviously wondering if this high-profile artist was going to cause trouble by throwing outrageous parties. Gradually the coolness thawed and Liz got to know them better at the management committee meetings that were held every so often to discuss the running of the building. Muriel was a lovely homely woman who confided in Liz one day that she should never have left her little cottage when her husband died in order to move in with her sister. Maud, the sister, was extremely elegant and refined but before long it dawned on Liz that the poor woman had a liking for the bottle. It was obvious that the two sisters did not get on, which must have been hell since they had to live together.
A couple and their two children lived on the second floor. Al and Detta were obviously striving to out-yuppy even the most yuppyish of yuppies. Al was an information scientist, a fact of which his wife had proudly informed Liz at the first meeting she had attended in their apartment. Their rooms were colour co-ordinated and furnished like something out of Good Housekeeping. The children, Tralee, so named because the little girl had been born prematurely and unexpectedly in Tralee general hospital; and Candine, her younger sister, had behaved outrageously, whinging and whining, when in Liz’s opinion they should have been long gone to bed. ‘Don’t do that, Lee darling!’ Detta murmured as Tralee kicked the leg of the cream O’Hagan Design sofa in a tantrum. She might as well have been talking to the moon. ‘Oh dear!’ sighed Detta helplessly as her husband carried the screaming child into a bedroom. ‘I usually spend some quality time with them at night when I get home from work, but tonight I was preparing for the meeting. Perhaps I should have got Tina to stay, but I think she was going horse-riding or swimming or something.’ Tina was the nanny! Liz noticed the dismay on Al and Detta’s faces when it was decided at the meeting to have the foyer and landings repainted for a not inconsiderable sum. Obviously money was not all that plentiful, despite the image. She felt sorry for them. Al always looked utterly harassed and Detta could not cope with her children.
Dominic Kent was the neighbour she liked best. He lived on the ground floor in one of the smaller apartments and was only there part of the week. He told her that he had a business in Cork and one in the capital and that he spent his time commuting. They often met in the swimming pool and she liked his sense of humour and the wry comments he would make about their neighbours. He often had a beautiful blonde girl staying who was many years younger than him and they seemed very happy in each other’s company. He had introduced her as Lainey Conroy and Liz had to admit she had never seen anyone so elegant and glamorous as the blonde air-hostess. Despite her soignée aura, Lainey was extremely down-to-earth and good fun and Liz always enjoyed meeting her when she was staying over.
The last person in the building was Derek, a young broker who obviously felt he was going somewhere. With his smart suits and executive briefcase he cut an impressive business image. He was, as Maud said snootily one day after being kept awake by one of his parties, ‘only a rented’ – renting the apartment from a property speculator owner whom Liz had never met. Derek fancied her like mad, much to her amusement, and he was always going out of his way to impress her with his man-of-the-world ways. All in all it was a very mixed bunch that lived in her block but by and large they got on well enough, except when Derek gave one of his parties and Maud and Muriel would complain for days on end, trying to get up a petition to have a formal complaint made to the landlord. Dominic would promise to take his nextdoor neighbour aside and talk to him man-to-man, and the ladies would be mollified . . . until the next time.
Hugh, who had once had to help Maud operate the lift when she was more than a little under the weather, was fascinated by them all and teased Liz that he was going to do a documentary about them. She wouldn’t put it past him!
‘Where’s Hugh?’ Eve was asking as Liz expertly winded her niece and laid her down to change her.
‘He’s gone to do a programme about the changes taking place in the Eastern-bloc countries. He’s doing an interview with the Prime Minister of Czechoslovakia, tomorrow, no less,’ she explained as she patted Sudocrem on the baby’s bottom.
‘He certainly gets around!’ Eve exclaimed, thoroughly enjoying her hour or so of freedom as the doting aunt took over.
‘Mmm,’ murmured Liz absently. Caitriona was trying to eat her toes and it was fascinating to watch. ‘He’s off to the States next week. He’s taken two months off work here to try and get some project off the ground over there. That’s why I’m going over for Christmas and that’s why I’ve done my shopping early. You know Hugh: now you see him; now you don’t!’
‘Are we going on our holidays?’ Fiona was getting impatient. Sometimes her aunt spent too much time with the baby.
‘Of course we are. Are you ready?’ Liz responded, drawing the little girl close for a cuddle, aware that her attention must be shared out fairly. Not that Fiona was jealous, she was delighted with the baby, but nevertheless, Liz was extremely careful to divide her attention equally.
With great excitement they set off. ‘Is she going on a cruise or what?’ Liz enquired when she saw her small niece’s luggage.
‘Well, don’t forget the zigsie saw. And I think My Little Pony and her tea-set and Barbie are going on holidays as well,’ Eve chuckled as she waved them off.
That
night, after a super sudsy bubble bath, with lashings of talc afterwards, Fiona sat on Liz’s knee as she brushed the little girl’s beautiful red hair. ‘Now this is what we’ll do,’ her niece was explaining, seeing that she was in charge. ‘We’ll put all the bungles of pwesents in the miggle of the woom first. Wight?’
‘Right!’ agreed Liz.
‘I’ve a new song,’ Fiona informed her aunt happily.
‘Have you? Will you sing it for me?’
Fiona nodded. ‘Yep. It’s called Ankle Doogle!’
‘Ankle Doogle! That sounds nice,’ Liz murmured, mystified, only to hide a grin as she recognized the tune, if not the words, of ‘Yankee Doodle.’ Holding Fiona on her knee as she sang away to her heart’s content, Liz reflected on the great joy her two nieces had brought to her life and wished heartily that she had a child of her own.
HUGH
Friday 13 July 1984
‘Do you admit that the government should have acted more swiftly in this matter, Minister?’ Hugh Cassidy cut through the Minister’s blustering response like a knife.
‘Well now, Mr Cassidy.’ The Minister smiled ingratiatingly.
‘I’d like you to answer the question, Minister, as we only have a few seconds left,’ persisted Hugh, who was enjoying himself immensely. The gorgeous redhead in the front row of the audience was more than impressed, he could tell.
Apartment 3B Page 27