Forgive and Forget

by Patricia Scanlan

  How would the other woman feel if she knew that Barry had slept with her? She was such a cool, reserved lady it was hard to know just how badly she’d take it. Well, she might be a hugely successful career woman with a fabulous toned body, but her husband had strayed and, what was worse, strayed with a woman she looked down her nose at and patronized every time they met.

  Connie knew it wasn’t nice or very moral – in fact it was totally immoral – what she’d done earlier, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel very ashamed. Had it been any other woman, yes she would have felt disgusted with herself, but Aimee had looked down her superior aquiline nose at her once too often.

  ‘Would you not think of going into the management side of things, become a director of nursing perhaps, instead of working on the wards?’ Aimee had asked her once when they’d been chatting at Barry’s mother’s birthday party. The woman had no clue of the amount of studying that would entail. The reason Connie hadn’t done more college work was so she could be there for her child when she came home from school. She’d wanted to help Debbie with her homework and ask her how her day had gone, not some childminder, she’d informed the other woman, and that had shut her up quick enough. Connie knew when she was being condescended to, and Aimee was a master at it. So, no, she decided, she didn’t feel that guilty at all. ‘Deal with it, Ms Davenport.’

  Connie turned over and felt the moonlight on her cheek bathing her in its pale yellow light. She didn’t remember going asleep and slept so soundly she never even felt Hope jumping up on the bed to snuggle down beside her.

  ‘You did what?’ Karen exclaimed as she sat, the following day, having coffee and a cake with Connie in the coffee shop in Vincent’s Hospital. ‘Ohmigod!’ She was staggered.

  ‘Ssshhh,’ murmured Connie, but no one was looking at them and she giggled at the expression on her sister-in-law’s face.

  ‘Desperate Housewives has nothing on you pair.’ Karen took a gulp of her latte. ‘What possessed you? Tell me all!’

  Connie gave her the gist of the night’s events, adding a little defensively, ‘Well, he did kiss me pretty passionately and I did make some effort to get him to stop and told him he was the married one, but then I just joined in, sort of,’ she admitted.

  ‘Why wouldn’t you, you’ve been deprived for years? But did it have to be with Barry? That could cause complications if it ever got out,’ Karen pointed out.

  ‘I know and, believe me, it won’t get out. I won’t be saying anything and he certainly won’t be either. And it won’t happen again,’ Connie assured her.

  ‘Well, not with Barry, but I sincerely hope that now you’ve got the hang of it again, you’ll go off “riding” into the sunset with some hunk,’ Karen said mischievously, biting into a muffin.

  ‘At least I know I can do it and that everything’s in full working order and the dreaded M hasn’t affected me. It was very reassuring, trust me. I don’t feel half as old as I did this time yesterday, before it all happened.’ Connie cupped her mug in her hands and remembered how youthful she’d felt the previous night.

  ‘Your eyes are sparkling. Was it good?’

  ‘It was over very fast, tragically.’ Connie threw her eyes up to heaven and Karen guffawed.

  ‘That is a tragedy – how very inconsiderate of him. And you having waited all these years for a decent seeing-to. I’ll ring him up and read him the riot act.’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ Connie exclaimed.

  ‘Just joking, dearie. How did you feel? You’re not going to fall in love with him again, are you? I don’t think that would be a wise move.’ Karen eyed her over the rim of her coffee cup.

  ‘Absolutely not. Don’t you worry about that, Karen,’ Connie said firmly. ‘I suppose I felt safe with him. I knew him – it wasn’t someone I was doing it with for the first time, and because of that I wasn’t inhibited. I used him as much as he used me and, now I know everything’s still functioning satisfactorily, that was the best part of it for me. I felt alive and vibrant and horny and womanly.’ She grinned. ‘I suppose I should feel bad about saying this, but it wasn’t about my feelings for Barry. I didn’t even want him to spend the night. I care about him, but I don’t really love him any more and I certainly don’t feel his emotional needs are my responsibility. Is that horrible of me?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Karen assured her. ‘I know a lot of exes who are sleeping together now and again. The Dentons see each other regularly. It’s well known in the bridge club. Half the separated men in this country are sorry they separated and petrified their wives will give them a divorce. And half the divorced ones wish they were back with their wives, the Dentons being a case in point.’

  ‘Really! I never knew that.’

  ‘And, my dear,’ Karen arched an eyebrow, ‘you know the way Rosa Elliott has resisted for years giving Jeremy a divorce so that he could marry Ella?’

  ‘Yesssss . . .’ Connie sat up straight, knowing a particularly juicy piece of gossip was about to arrive. ‘Every time I see Ella she’s spitting feathers about something Rosa’s done or said. They do hate each other’s guts, don’t they?’

  ‘Indeed they do,’ grinned Karen. ‘Seemingly Rosa’s got wise. She told Jeremy he could have his divorce. He nearly had a heart attack, because it’s been his great excuse not to marry Ella. Now she wants the full palaver – wedding, dress, veil, bash, honeymoon.’

  ‘Oh crikey! Jeremy’s never going to marry her. If Rosa was bad to be married to, Ella would be a thousand times worse and he wouldn’t have the escape route he’s got now.’

  ‘Exactly! I rest my case.’

  ‘Well, you needn’t worry, I have no intention of resuming any sort of intimate or emotional relationship with Barry,’ Connie asserted.

  ‘What was he doing anyway, trying it on with you? What’s wrong in the Garden of Eden? Not casting any aspersions on your undoubted magnetism.’ Karen smirked at her sister-in-law.

  ‘He did say that Aimee works too much and that she wants to move from Dun Laoghaire and he doesn’t. I just felt there was an undercurrent and that everything wasn’t running as smoothly as it usually does.’

  ‘I think it bugs him that she earns as much as he does. Barry’s quite traditional behind it all.’

  ‘He’s married to the wrong woman then.’ Connie made a face. ‘And you know what? I don’t care. Let them work it out between them. I won’t be getting involved.’ She looked at Karen and made a face. ‘Er . . . we didn’t use anything, but I’d say I’m safe enough at my age, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Oh Connie,’ Karen groaned. ‘This is an iffy time for you. I read somewhere that the ovaries know that they’re on the slippery slope, and they produce more eggs to have a last fling, so to speak. What part of your cycle were you in?’

  Connie shrugged. ‘Who knows at this stage? Sometimes I think I’m ovulating and then I think I’m going to have a period and it doesn’t come.’

  ‘Well, that would put the friggin’ cat among the pigeons, wouldn’t it? Could you imagine everyone’s face if you told them all you were up the duff?’

  ‘Stop it,’ Connie said in alarm, not knowing who would be the most shocked, her parents, Debbie, Aimee or Melissa. It was too unthinkable to contemplate. ‘Could you imagine Mam and Dad? I’m a big enough disappointment to them, being a divorcée and all that. To get pregnant out of wedlock twice would be the last straw! It doesn’t bear thinking about.’ A thought struck her. ‘Technically, I suppose, in the eyes of the church, seeing as we didn’t get an annulment, I’m still married to him. I could use that argument with my parents if the worst came to the worst,’ she joked.

  ‘Ha ha! You better have a few hot baths,’ Karen advised.

  ‘It’s not going to happen.’

  ‘Don’t take risks again, that’s all I’m saying.’

  Connie gave a little laugh. ‘Imagine being an unmarried mother at my age! Aimee’d freak if Barry had to start paying maintenance for another child now that he’s almost finished
forking out for Debbie.’

  ‘I’m thinking more of nappies and teething and school runs – that type of thing,’ Karen said dryly. ‘There, I knew that would knock the smirk off your face. I better get back to work.

  ‘Seriously, though,’ she wagged her finger, ‘get out there and get a nice man for yourself. If last night gave you confidence, imagine what great sex with a good man could do for you.’

  ‘Easier said than done.’

  ‘Give it a try, you vamp you.’ She smiled.

  ‘Thanks for not judging,’ Connie said warmly.

  ‘Why on earth would I do that? You’ve had it tough and you’re very hard on yourself too. I just want you to be happy and I’d love to see you with someone. You deserve every good thing that comes to you. And every fine thing too,’ she teased as they finished their coffee and walked towards the exit.

  ‘And pigs will fly,’ Connie retorted. ‘Thanks for meeting me for lunch – I was bursting to tell you. It was handy being here in Vincent’s today and that you were only fifteen minutes away.’

  ‘Wild horses wouldn’t have stopped me meeting you after your text. For God’s sake, don’t let it slip when you meet Debbie tonight,’ Karen warned as Connie reached the lift to take her to her ward.

  ‘I won’t. I’m going to give it one last bash to try and get her to change her mind about marrying Bryan.’

  ‘Rather you than me. Good luck,’ Karen said as they hugged before Connie stepped into the lift and the doors whooshed closed.

  ‘Debbie, there are three mistakes in the sick-leave entitlements, and Maurice Henderson is on half pay not full pay. This is a serious error. Your mind is obviously elsewhere and this is just not good enough.’ Judith Baxter glowered down at Debbie.

  ‘Oh . . . oh sorry, Judith.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, get your mind on your job and do it properly, or I’ll be suggesting that your increment be withheld for a full year and not six months,’ Judith snapped, before walking over to Gina Andrews’ desk to remonstrate with her for making an error in overtime payments.

  ‘Incompetent idiots,’ Judith muttered as she closed the door of her office and walked over to the window. She knew what was wrong with her. She’d got her period when she woke up and a very small part of her was disappointed. The irrational, dissatisfied part of her had hoped that she might be pregnant. Even though it was a very faint expectation, a pregnancy might have given her an excuse to change her life. Move out and set up a home of her own with her child.

  She stared out over the skyline and wished she was anywhere but where she was right now. She knew, too, why she was angry, and it was all over a damn letter she’d read in an agony aunt’s column from a woman who had her own house but whose boyfriend only stayed with her one night a week because he was looking after his elderly mother and he felt guilty if he wasn’t at home with her.

  Judith went to her bag and took out the letter, which she’d torn out of the magazine. And read it again, frowning where the woman said her boyfriend felt responsible for, and had a huge commitment to, his mother.

  The agony aunt hadn’t given the answer Judith had been expecting. Not at all. There was no Poor you, this is difficult and you have made a huge sacrifice and so has he. No He’s a wonderful man to be minding his mother. No indeed. The agony aunt had briskly suggested that the boyfriend, now in his forties, was not sacrificing his life for his mother at the expense of his patient girlfriend but had made a conscious choice very decisively to stay with his mother and live his life around her needs. It was a set-up that suited him. The hard-hearted agony aunt went on to suggest that the boyfriend was not a victim, that there was recompense, clear advantages, in it for him, and that was why he was choosing not to be with his girlfriend. Deal with it was her attitude, more or less.

  Judith had read the letter three times, with a growing sense of despair. Putting herself in the boyfriend’s position. Yes, she had sacrificed her life for her mother. Yes, she felt guilt and a sense of responsibility for her but, when she had had the chance to reclaim her life after her father’s death, she’d chickened out and come back for more of her mother’s emotional blackmail. What did that say about her? Had she been afraid to take her chances out in the real world? Was her mother just an excuse for not living her life? And, even worse, was she more like her mother than she’d realized? Full of fear and timidity. Afraid to venture forth and live life to the full.

  Her heart began to hammer against her chest, and fluttery butterflies of panic flapped their wings in her belly. She felt dizzy and nauseous. Was this a panic attack? she thought agitatedly as heat suffused her and she felt she couldn’t breathe. She opened the window and took in deep, gulped breaths of air. Her phone rang. She swallowed hard and managed to compose herself enough to answer it. It was Personnel enquiring about someone’s retirement date.

  Judith dealt with the query, relieved to have something to focus on. She’d just put the phone down when it rang again.

  ‘Judith. Can I help you?’ she said automatically.

  ‘It’s me,’ said her mother. ‘My eye specialist’s secretary was on and they’ve had a cancellation, so they’re offering me the chance to go and get my cataract done tomorrow. I have to be admitted today for blood tests and the like. You’ll have to take a half-day to bring me, and I’ll need you to get me a new pair of slippers. The ones I ordered from Oxendale’s haven’t come,’ Lily went on. ‘I know it’s short notice – if you can’t do it, I’ll ring up and say it doesn’t suit.’

  For one moment she was tempted to suggest her ringing Tom or Cecily and telling them to take a day off; let them go and buy slippers – but she restrained herself. After all, she’d made the choice to look after her mother for some sort of emotional payback, hadn’t she? Judith thought angrily, despising herself even more for acting the martyr.

  ‘I’ll take the afternoon off. What time do you have to be there at?’

  ‘Between two and four. I don’t want to put you out. Maybe I’ll call and say I won’t go,’ Lily twittered agitatedly.

  ‘Don’t do that. You might as well go when you have the chance. And it means you won’t be worrying about it for weeks to come,’ Judith said in a more affable tone. Her mother was working herself up into a state.

  ‘But I don’t have slippers.’

  ‘I’ll get them. Stop worrying about it now and calm down – you don’t want your blood pressure to go up,’ Judith warned.

  ‘Get blue ones to go with my dressing gown. And get me some tissues, some Nivea, and some talc.’ The list began to grow.

  ‘Right. I have to go, I’ll be home by one,’ Judith said sourly, and hung up. She’d go to Marks for the slippers; she could get the other items in a pharmacy.

  She’d known her mother’s eye operation was coming up and she’d planned to paint the kitchen while she had the place to herself. Now it had come earlier than expected and she didn’t even have the paint in; she’d have to go and get that tonight.

  Her heart lifted a little. Judith loved painting and decorating. Three days of peace and quiet without her mother would be like a mini holiday. Just what she needed to try and regain her equilibrium. She had plenty of time up on the clock for the half-day today; that wouldn’t be a problem. A thought struck her. She might as well take tomorrow off as well. She hadn’t taken any of her annual leave so far this year. She should make the most of having the house to herself.

  She’d treat herself to some nicies out of the Food Hall, and a bottle of wine to go with them. She wouldn’t bother cooking. The weather was supposed to pick up, she’d get some bedding plants for the garden and plant them up and do the window boxes, and that would take care of that much for the summer. Then, in a week or two, when her mother was on the road to recovery, she was going to ring her brother and sister and tell them that she was going away for a few days and to hell with them. She was going to go away with Jillian to a spa and be pampered. They’d been promising themselves they’d do it for ages, she d
ecided as she clicked on her computer and had a look at a few hotel websites to see what was on offer.

  Lily’s heart was doing a tap dance as she folded her new, blue lightweight-cotton dressing gown into her small case. When Mr Burton’s secretary had phoned to say that, because of a cancellation, he’d be able to fit her in for her cataract operation earlier than planned and would she be available to be admitted to hospital that afternoon, she’d stuttered a ‘yes’. Mr Burton had been kind enough to think of her; it was the least she could do.

  ‘Admission time is between two and four,’ the secretary had said kindly before hanging up, leaving Lily trembling at the other end of the phone. She didn’t mind so much going into hospital, she always felt safe there; it was the idea of having the operation on her eye. If it went wrong she’d be in a fix, she thought as she took her new toilet bag from the drawer and placed her toothbrush and paste in it.

  She hoped she would have a room to herself – she’d forgotten to ask if it was possible when she’d been talking to the secretary. Judith hadn’t been too cross about taking the afternoon off. That was a relief. You just couldn’t tell with her lately what sort of humour she was going to be in. She’d been a little snappish at the end of the conversation as Lily gave her a list of her requirements. She’d wanted to ask her to get a packet of cloves or mints to suck in case she got a ticklish cough, as she sometimes did in the evening. Her hand hovered over the phone on her bedside locker; she could ring her, she supposed. Lily sighed and let her hand drop. There was no point in pushing her luck. She didn’t want the nose taken off her; she didn’t think her nerves could stand it, not with the ordeal that was ahead of her. She took a deep breath and lifted her little framed photo of Ted off the locker. He was coming with her. She always said goodnight to her husband before switching off the light at night. Maybe it was foolishness but she felt he was there. She smiled down at him and kissed the cold-glassed photo before wrapping it carefully in a couple of linen handkerchiefs and placing it on top of her dressing gown. Let God grant in His Mercy that I’ll wake up seeing him better than I’ve been able to see him, she prayed as she closed her case, fumbling with the lock as the bleary haze of the cataract reminded her yet again of how much of a nuisance it had become this past year.