If she had the money she’d have got a painter and decorator in, but they couldn’t afford it right now, not with the expense of the wedding coming up. But they could afford a few cans of paint, and if Bryan was anyway helpful they could have painted the small bedroom, then at least they’d have a presentable guest room and they wouldn’t be so inclined to keep it the junk room it had turned into. Still, the summer was long and, once the wedding and the honeymoon were over, they could turn to and roll up their sleeves, thought Debbie, her optimism beginning to reassert itself.
She finished her coffee and sandwich and sat enjoying the peace and quiet of the back garden. Birds sang and in the distance came the sounds of a lawnmower and children playing. Someday she hoped that their children would be playing here and she could give up full-time work and take a part-time job somewhere, the way Connie had done when she was small. It would be such a relief not having to face Batty Baxter day in, day out. Her boss was always picking on her lately, and it was beginning to get to her.
It was probably her nerves, she decided, she was very edgy lately; it had to be pre-wedding jitters. She should chill out and start enjoying the lead-up to her wedding. She took her phone out of her jeans pocket and sent her mother a text: ‘Let’s have lunch, how about Roly’s?’
The restaurant on the seafront was one of their favourite haunts and the fish was to die for, straight from the fishing boat. There was just one drawback: it was a bit too close to where her father lived and they could bump into him. As he wasn’t best pleased with her, that could be awkward.
She dialled Bryan’s number to let him know of her plans.
‘Hi, doll. Are you coming in?’ her fiancé asked good-humouredly, and she had to smile. Irrepressibly cheerful as ever.
‘I’m going to meet Mam for lunch, and then I’ll hook up with you wherever you are by then. OK?’
‘OK, whatever. See you when I see you. I love you.’
Debbie’s heart softened. ‘I love you too,’ she echoed, still smiling in spite of herself as she hung up. She carried her dishes back into the kitchen and her phone beeped. It was Connie agreeing to meet her for lunch. Before she left to meet her mother, she put her future husband’s dirty clothes in the washing machine and hung out the wet ones she’d ignored earlier.
Bryan Kinsella sat by the riverside café, enjoying the heat of the sun and the sparkle of light on the river as he listened to his friends joshing and ribbing each other as they tucked into a selection of salads, pasta dishes and pizzas. The Liffey shone sparkly-blue in the sunlight and prisms of light reflected off the big, shining plate-glass windows of a new office block on the opposite bank. A small boat chugged down the river, its wash causing waves to lap gently against the quay wall. The sound of laughter and chat blended with sounds of the river, the screeching of seagulls and the steady thrum of the boat’s engines.
What a humdinger of a day. Debbs was mad to be stuck at home doing housework, he reflected as he watched a Dart snake lazily across Butt Bridge, the sun glinting on the windows.
He sighed. He wished his fiancée were here to enjoy it; she really needed to lighten up and chill sometimes. Just because they were getting married didn’t mean they had to become a boring stay-a-home couple. Ever since they’d bought the house she’d been fussing and fretting about getting things done. Sometimes he was sorry they’d bought the damn place, but they’d both known, the way house prices were going in Dublin, if they didn’t get a foot on the property ladder sooner rather than later, they never would.
The responsibility of owning a house and paying the crucifying mortgage had changed the dynamics of their relationship and he was finding it difficult to come to terms with the new responsibilities being a householder entailed. They weren’t able to afford things they’d once taken for granted, like frequent dining out, weekends away, going to the races and not worrying about spending a few hundred smackers on bets. Now it was all penny-pinching and expenses and stress and strain, and he felt stifled and under pressure.
And then there was his mother-in-law to be, Connie. She was nice enough, he supposed, but she was always asking him how he was getting on with the decorating and making him feel as though he wasn’t pulling his weight. She was different to his mother and sisters; she didn’t seem to think a lot of him for some reason. Sometimes he felt that Connie thought Debbs could have done much better for herself, and he wasn’t used to that kind of attitude. It was the first time he’d ever come across a woman who hadn’t fallen for his charm, and it rankled, he thought crossly as he took a gulp of ice-cold beer.
He’d had a chat with some of his married mates and they’d assured him that this kind of stuff was all par for the course and that things would settle down once he was married. He hoped so because, much and all as he loved his Debbs, right now he felt like calling it quits.
CHAPTER NINE
‘This is nice.’ Connie smiled at her daughter as she sipped a soda and lime and waited for her cod and chunky chips. She stretched her legs under the table and leaned back in her chair, glad that her shift was over. It had been a busy morning, and one of the post-op patients she’d been looking after had developed a clot and needed constant monitoring. Getting a text from her daughter inviting her to lunch had been a more than pleasant surprise.
‘Mum, I’m sorry about last night. It was mean of me,’ Debbie blurted out, and Connie felt a wave of love for her. Debbie always apologized when she was in the wrong and their tiffs never lasted more than a day or two.
‘Your dad was a bit put out.’ Connie stifled a yawn.
‘I know, I got a fairly tetchy text from him,’ said Debbie contritely as she fiddled with the condiments. ‘Did you sort out the seating arrangements to your satisfaction?’
‘Yeah, we sorted the families and grandparents, and we’re going to put Aimee and Melissa at Karen’s table. I told Melissa she could bring a friend with her – the poor kid would be bored out of her tree otherwise.’
‘You might have asked me.’ Debbie pouted, annoyed. It was, after all, her wedding, but it seemed that, between them, Connie and Barry were taking over.
‘Ah, stop it, Debbie. What age are you now? Six?’ her mother grumbled.
‘Sorry.’
‘I should think so. Don’t worry, you won’t have to pay for her meal, I’ll look after that,’ Connie said tartly. ‘Melissa’s not a bad kid, and I’m sure the last place she wants to be is at your wedding.’
‘Well, then, she shouldn’t come to it, or Aimee, either. I won’t be the slightest bit insulted. I hate the hypocrisy of playing happy families, pretending we’re all lovey-dovey. All Dad is thinking about is himself. He has this notion that we’re all going to be one jolly extended family, and it’s never going to happen, no matter how much he kids himself. It’s all to ease his conscience. Well, tough, I have to be true to my feelings too, you know. I never wanted those people in my life and I don’t want them now. What’s so awful about that?’ Debbie said crossly.
‘He means well, Debbie, he has your best interests at heart and he’s trying to make life as easy as possible for all of us.’ Connie sighed.
‘You’re entitled to your opinion, Mum, and I’m entitled to mine. I just don’t want that pair at my wedding. I know I’m a bitch but that’s the way I feel.’
‘Can’t you just let it go, Debbie?’ her mother urged. ‘It’s not good to hold such bitterness and resentment. Sometimes I feel I’ve really failed as a mother when I hear you talk like that. I tried very hard not to let any negative feelings I had about your father influence your feelings for him—’
‘Mum, he did that all by himself, you aren’t to blame for anything,’ Debbie insisted vehemently. ‘You’re a great mother.’
‘I don’t know, honey. If you’re still feeling so bitter and angry towards your dad at this stage of your life and after all this time, I’ve failed you in some way. Maybe I should have arranged some sort of counselling for you when you were younger. I should have seen your d
ifficulties. I guess I was just too engrossed in dealing with my own stuff,’ Connie said tiredly.
‘Mum, stop! It’s not your fault.’ Debbie reached across the table and grabbed her mother’s hand. ‘They’re my issues, I have to deal with them, and I have, and you don’t need to feel guilty. I’m just not pushed about having any of them in my life. It’s as simple as that, and you and Dad don’t seem to be able to grasp that. Who says I have to like them? Can’t I just let them get on with their lives and get on with my own life without having anything to do with them? Is that so awful?’
‘I suppose it isn’t,’ Connie conceded. ‘But it’s a shame. Barry is your dad and it’s not Melissa’s fault the way things turned out. Aimee, I can take or leave.’ She made a face.
‘I can certainly leave her, snooty bitch. She thinks she’s so superior. She looks down her nose at us, you know.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Connie remonstrated.
‘She does. She adopts this “tone” when she’s talking to us; she’s so supercilious, just because she’s this high-flying businesswoman. High-flying up her own arse.’
Connie snorted, laughing. ‘Stop it and don’t be so mean. Don’t forget she came into your father’s life after we separated. She had nothing to do with our split.’
‘I still don’t like her. Why he went for the likes of her when he had you I’ll never understand. And you’re so loyal to him, Mum. He doesn’t deserve it,’ Debbie declared.
‘He’s not the worst, Debbie, he was more than fair in his financial dealings with us and he would have played a much bigger part in your life if you’d let him.’
‘I didn’t want him then, and I don’t want him now. It’s as simple as that,’ her daughter reiterated firmly. ‘If he wasn’t at my wedding, it wouldn’t bother me one whit.’
‘Look, Debbie, I want your wedding to be a lovely day, the best day of your life. I don’t want it ruined for you because you don’t want Aimee and Melissa at it. I want you to make your peace with your dad and just move on. Couldn’t your wedding day be a fresh start for you, darling? Let all the bitterness of the past go and don’t let it ruin the most important day of your life,’ Connie implored. She delved in her bag and brought out a book. ‘One of my patients gave me this book. Would you please, please read it. There’s a lot in it about forgiveness and letting go of stuff – it might help.’ She thrust it at her daughter.
‘All right, Mum, I’ll have a flick through it. Now can we not talk about it any more, let’s just enjoy our lunch,’ Debbie urged as the waitress arrived with two steaming plates of golden battered cod and chips. She shoved the book in her bag, sighing.
‘Debbie, you can’t run away from things all your life. Because the things you run away from have a habit of catching up with you at some stage,’ Connie advised, realizing that she was getting nowhere.
‘Mum, just let me deal with things my own way,’ Debbie ordered, pronging a satisfyingly chunky chip with her fork. ‘I’m not talking about it any more.’
‘Is Bryan doing up the spare room?’ Connie asked, changing the subject. Debbie had spoken of plans to redecorate at the weekend, so that was safer territory for discussion, she decided.
‘Nope, we decided it was too nice to be stuck in, so after lunch I’m going into town to hook up with him and some of the gang,’ Debbie said off-handedly.
‘Oh right,’ Connie murmured. She should have known better than to think that that slacker was stripping wallpaper. ‘The cod is scrumptious isn’t it? It’s so fresh.’ She smiled at her daughter, who smiled back at her. They ate companionably in silence for a few moments and then Connie saw Debbie’s face fall as something caught her eye.
‘Oh shit, just my luck,’ she groaned, and a frown darkened her face.
‘What’s wrong?’ Connie turned around to see what the problem was and saw Barry, Aimee and Melissa walking through the door.
Barry saw them almost immediately, his face lighting up as he waved across at them.
He murmured something to the maître d’ and headed across to their table. ‘Hi, you guys, what a nice surprise. We popped in on spec, hoping there’d be a table but it seems pretty crowded still – may we join you?’ He smiled at Connie.
‘Sure, why not?’ she agreed, feeling it would be rude and churlish to refuse.
‘OK with you, Debbie?’ He glanced over at his daughter.
‘Yep,’ she answered shortly. Barry beckoned to his wife and daughter, who made their way to the table.
‘Aimee, Melissa, hi! There’s plenty of room – why don’t you sit here beside me, Melissa?’ Connie invited, wishing she and Debbie could have been left to enjoy their lunch in peace.
‘Hiya, Connie, how’s Hope?’ Melissa slid on to the chair next to her and cast an uncertain glance at her half-sister across the table.
‘Hello.’ Debbie’s greeting was polite but cold and Connie felt like kicking her under the table.
‘Hope’s fine, pet, I left her snoozing on my bed this morning while I had to get up for work. I bet when I get home she’ll be out snoozing in the sun. She just loves snoozing, that cat.’ She smiled at the teenager, who smiled back at her.
‘Aimee, how are you?’ she asked the other woman, who was slipping out of a taupe linen jacket to reveal beautifully tanned and sculpted upper arms in her lemon, figure-hugging vest. Connie tried not to feel envious, and the chips that she’d been enjoying made her feel irritatingly guilty.
‘I’m very well, thank you, Connie, and you?’ The younger woman nodded graciously. She clearly wasn’t too thrilled to be dining with the other half of the family either.
‘Great.’ Connie regretfully pushed aside the crispy golden batter she’d been looking forward to.
‘Are you all sorted for the wedding?’ Aimee arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at Debbie.
‘Yes, thank you.’ Debbie avoided her father’s gaze.
‘Excellent,’ Aimee said coolly, not even looking in Debbie’s direction as she moved slightly to accommodate the waiter, who was adding three place settings to the round table they were seated at.
‘So how did work go?’ Barry smiled at Connie.
‘Busy. I’m going to go home and flop on my lounger for an hour or two, I can tell you.’
An awkward silence descended on the group.
‘What are you going to have?’ Barry asked his wife and daughter as they perused the menu. ‘Was the fish good?’ he asked Connie.
‘Really fresh,’ she informed him, longing to eat a forkful of batter.
‘I don’t think I’ll have the fish and chips, too laden in calories for me,’ Aimee said crisply. ‘I’ll just have a Caesar salad, dressing on the side and no starter,’ she instructed her husband. ‘You’re brave to be eating fish and chips so close to the wedding. Aren’t you afraid you’ll put on weight?’ She focused her stare in Debbie’s direction, eyeing her up and down.
‘God, no. I couldn’t bear to live the life of a twiglet.’ Debbie’s eyes flashed disdain.
‘What’s that? A chocolate bar?’ Aimee asked, confused, a tiny frown trying unsuccessfully to crease her Botoxed brow.
‘No, it’s one of those silly women who look like a twig, who push a lettuce leaf around their plate and fret about their calories and cholesterol, and bore the pants off people talking about their diets and their non-existent figures,’ Debbie said sweetly.
Connie almost choked on the soda and lime she’d been sipping. Barry’s mouth tightened, and he glowered at his elder daughter as, once again, a strained silence descended on the group.
‘I see. Well, I guess no one could accuse you of looking like a . . . um . . . “twiglet”,’ Aimee drawled.
‘Thank goodness for that!’ Debbie responded, ignoring the implied insult.
‘Did you ask your friend to the wedding, Melissa?’ Connie interjected hastily, breaking out in a sweat that, for once, wasn’t a hot flush.
‘Not yet. Her mobile’s off, I’d say she’s run out of credit, but
I think she’ll be able to come.’ Melissa glowered at Debbie; she understood perfectly well that her half-sister had subtly insulted her mother.
Debbie ignored her glowers.
‘What are you going to have, Lissy?’ Barry asked, using another of his pet names for her. He was beginning to realize that joining Connie and Debbie for lunch was not the best move he’d made that day.
‘Can I have the fish and chips, please?’ she said sulkily, fishing her phone out of her bag and beginning to text.
‘That’s rude at the table, darling,’ Aimee remonstrated.
‘It’s important.’ Melissa shrugged and carried on texting.
Aimee pursed her lips and looked to Barry for support. He kept his gaze firmly on the waiter who was heading in their direction.
‘Darling, I’ve asked you to stop texting. It’s bad manners. Now put the phone away,’ Aimee commanded in clipped tones.
‘Lissy, do what your mother asks, please,’ Barry said wearily.
‘It’s OK, if the message is important,’ Connie ventured, aware that the young girl beside her was absolutely mortified.
‘That’s not the point, Connie,’ Aimee said sharply. ‘Put your phone away now, Melissa.’
Beetroot-red, Melissa shoved her phone into her bag and blinked hard. Connie could see the brightness of unshed tears in her eyes.
‘Would you care to order?’ the waiter, who had been hovering, inquired discreetly.
‘A Caesar salad with dressing on the side, two cod and chips, a diet Coke and two white-wine spritzers please,’ Barry said briskly.
‘Excuse me, I need to go to the loo,’ Melissa muttered, standing up abruptly and making her way between the tables to the toilets at the back of the restaurant. Connie knew she was going to have a cry and felt sorry for the young girl. Aimee had been way too sharp with her, especially in front of herself and Debbie. Teenagers were so sensitive. Things were awkward enough between the two families; she could have been a bit more tactful.
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