Forgive and Forget

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘I just wanted to make sure,’ he bristled. ‘At her age anything can happen having an anaesthetic. I wanted to make sure all her affairs are up to date.’

  ‘She wasn’t having a general and, even if she was, what difference does it make to you?’ Judith demanded.

  ‘If she dies without making a will, it could cause a lot of complications.’ He couldn’t look her in the eye.

  ‘For whom? You?’ she said sarcastically. ‘This is my home, Tom, whether you like it or not. Get over it. You’ve left it far too late to get involved now, so you needn’t think you’re going to be reaping any rewards for all your years of neglect. This place is mine. I deserve it.’

  ‘Don’t be too sure of that, Judith. If I were you I’d start looking out for a place of your own while you’re still able to get a mortgage. Why should you end up with everything?’

  ‘Because I’ve stayed here and looked after Ma because you and Cecily wouldn’t bother your arses,’ she said heatedly, furious that she even felt she had to defend her position.

  ‘No one asked you to; if you’d have gone she’d have had to look after herself. There’s nothing wrong with her, she’s good and healthy, and it just suited you. A nice cushy number, and no rent or mortgage to pay, so don’t give me that, Judith,’ her brother retorted angrily.

  ‘You fuck off out of here, Tom Baxter,’ Judith screeched, incensed. ‘You’re a selfish, horrible little toad and you always were. And I hope nothing ever happens to you that you’re left depending on your children because, if they’re anything like you, you’ll be a sad, sorry little streak of misery with no one to look after you.’ The gloves were off and she didn’t care what she said. Her stomach was in knots and she felt sick. She’d never been good at confronting her family.

  ‘It takes one to know one,’ he snarled, brushing past her down the stairs. ‘You always had a big mouth on you. No wonder you never got married. No one would have ya. And what a lucky escape the male species had.’

  ‘And what did you get? A tarty little peroxide blonde that can’t cook to save her—’ The front door slammed behind him, leaving the remainder of her sentence hanging in the air.

  Judith stood trembling halfway up the stairs. That had been pretty vicious. She and Tom had never got on as kids. They’d more or less kept out of each other’s way as they’d got older, but an underlying antipathy still simmered between them.

  It had certainly erupted today in a lava flow of insults and invective that would be hard to row back from. Her brother had shown his true colours, she thought as her heartbeat slowed back to normal and the shaking began to subside.

  He’d been up snooping in Lily’s room looking for the will. She’d never stoop that low. She’d never thought she’d have to. Now she was going to have to find out what her legal position was. Had she sacrificed the last twenty-five years of her life for nothing?

  ‘Oh stop, you sound like a real bitch, she’s your mother, for God’s sake!’ she said aloud in disgust. She was bringing herself right down to Tom’s level thinking like that. Just look at what had ensued. A slanging match where she’d been reduced to a screeching fishwife. And at her age. What did that say about her state of maturity or her ability to handle herself in arguments? What would those young ones at work think if they saw her now? How would Debbie Adams view her, shaking and trembling and near to tears because of an argument with her brother? She felt completely disempowered. Yet again.

  The old saying was true: families were worse than enemies. Tom had gone and ruined her precious long weekend. That elusive magical feeling of well-being and serenity was gone, to be replaced by sick anxiety. She felt like getting hammered. But how could she? She had to go in to the hospital and visit Lily. If she arrived in stinking of alcohol it would cause her mother great distress. It’s all Lily’s fault anyway, Judith raged impotently. Why shouldn’t she go on the piss if she wanted? The words in that agony-aunt article came back to her. She’d made the choice herself for a pay-off. That was why she’d reacted so violently to her brother’s accusations. She needn’t have stayed. If she’d had the guts to stand up to her mother’s emotional blackmail and go her own way, none of this would be happening and her life could be far different.

  Feeling utterly trapped and frustrated, Judith sat on the end of the stairs and bawled her eyes out.

  ‘Hello Connie, I felt I should ring. Er . . . are you OK after our er . . . encounter,’ Barry said awkwardly.

  ‘I’m fine, Barry,’ his ex-wife said crisply and he had a feeling that she was smiling.

  ‘I just wanted to make sure,’ he reiterated, a little put out that she didn’t seem to be taking it as seriously as he did. She was making him feel like he’d had a one-night stand or something, he thought indignantly.

  ‘Well, I’m fine, but I think the best thing to do is to forget about it and put it behind us. It should never have happened.’ Her tone was so matter-of-fact and businesslike Barry was taken aback. He was right. She was treating it as a one-off of no importance.

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said slowly. ‘But it did happen and I’m not sorry, Connie. It meant a lot to me.’ It was out before he knew it and he held his breath waiting for her response. He heard her clear her throat.

  ‘Barry, we’ve been apart for a long time, you’re married. That’s the end of it. OK?’

  ‘OK,’ he said disappointedly.

  ‘Let’s get through the wedding as best we can and make life easy on all of us,’ Connie instructed. She was so much more assured and self-possessed than when she’d been married to him, he reflected as she bade him goodnight and hung up.

  If Aimee didn’t come to the wedding as she’d threatened he was going to try and seduce his ex-wife again, Barry decided defiantly. Connie had been well up for it the other night. With a few drinks on her and feeling maudlin because of their daughter’s marriage, she’d fall into his arms. She might not be so quick to dismiss it a second time. He didn’t like their interlude being considered a one-night stand. He’d hoped it was much more than that.

  Barry stretched out on the sofa smiling to himself. If there was one thing he loved it was a challenge. And they had been few and far between lately. It was clear Connie was feeling guilty. The irony was, he was the married one and he didn’t feel that bad. It might be different when he actually saw Aimee tomorrow, but he didn’t think so. It was all very fine for her to be ringing him from Milan telling him about her delicious Italian dinner and her successful day’s work but, if his wife wanted to devote her time to her career and become a workaholic, she should be prepared for the consequences.

  At least the phone call had been made and they’d spoken about the events of the other night. Connie had the strangest feeling that Barry was disappointed by her response. What did he want, she thought irritably, to have an affair of some sort with his ex-wife? What did he think she was? Desperate! She wasn’t the slightest bit interested in going down that road. She wasn’t sorry it had happened, she admitted. It had given her a kickstart, to stop thinking of herself as a middle-aged has-been, but that was all, she decided firmly as she opened a sachet of cat food for Miss Hope, who was gazing up at her with wide-eyed adoration.

  ‘And I love you too.’ She smiled, patting the cat’s velvet black head. Barry could read all he liked into the encounter but, once this wedding was over, she was going to start living her own life free from all encumbrances, and who knew where that path would lead her – and even with whom, she thought, feeling exceptionally optimistic.

  ‘Can you not go and see the priest on your own, Debbs? It really isn’t my scene,’ Bryan said sulkily, lazing on the couch slugging a can of beer while she ironed her blouse for work the next day. They had an appointment to see the priest the following evening and she’d suggested they meet up in town.

  ‘Don’t be like that,’ she protested. ‘It’s our wedding ceremony.’

  ‘I’d have been just as happy to go to the registry office, babe, it was you who wan
ted the whole church thing,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Right, I’ll go by myself,’ she snapped, banging the iron up and down the sleeves.

  ‘Do my shirt while you’re at it, babes, will you?’ her fiancé requested as he flicked channels and caught a snooker match in progress.

  ‘Do it yourself, I’m busy,’ Debbie retorted, marching out of the room with her crisp white blouse. She flounced upstairs feeling thoroughly disgruntled. Why couldn’t Bryan be more enthusiastic . . . more involved? Her mother’s words came to mind as she stood in the bedroom staring out at the neat little cul-de-sac of townhouses where they lived. The orange sodium lamps spilled light over the footpath in front of their house, casting rusty shadows on to the soft-top car. That car was a ridiculous luxury they could ill afford but, when she’d suggested trading it in for a less expensive one and paying off some of the loan, he’d been peeved and she’d said no more, afraid there might be more talk of cancelling the wedding.

  The paint on the windowsill was chipped, and she flicked at it, wishing that they could get their bedroom decorated. It was painted dark blue and white and she thought them cold colours which made the room look even narrower than it was. It needed a neutral shade – oatmeal or buttery yellow would look nice, she’d said to Bryan – but he kept putting it off. The house would feel more their own if it was painted in their choice of colours. The wardrobe was bulging with clothes and shoes. They definitely needed more storage. If he’d do up the guest room they could put another wardrobe in there and their bedroom would look tidier. So far nothing had been done, or was likely to be done the way Bryan was going on.

  Was her fiancé a bit like her father as Connie had so hesitantly suggested? Was he ready for marriage? Was she making a mistake? She still had time to change her mind.

  Debbie sighed, watching the clouds obscure the moon. All she’d ever wanted was to be happily married. Was that too much to ask? Thousands of people managed it. Many of their friends were very happily married and never seemed to have the rumbles of discontent that seemed to permeate her and Bryan’s relationship.

  Were her expectations too high? Had Connie’s expectations been too high? Had she pushed Barry away by constant nagging and whining?

  The wedding was getting closer and closer. Everything was in place. If they didn’t go ahead with it now, it might never happen. It was her choice. Debbie bit her lip. Maybe this was par for the course. Didn’t all brides wonder if they were doing the right thing and get jittery with pre-wedding nerves? She’d go to the priest herself. Bryan was right: she was the one who’d pushed for the church wedding. She shouldn’t be surprised at his attitude.

  Once the ceremony was all over and they were enjoying the rest of the day with their friends with a honeymoon in New York to look forward to he’d be fine again. Then their lives could get back on an even keel and all the stresses and strains of planning a wedding would be a far-distant memory.

  He could still iron his own shirt, though, she decided as she hung her blouse on a hanger and began to undress for bed.

  THE WEDDING

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Thank God it’s not raining, Debbie thought gratefully as a muted beam of early morning sun filtered through a gap in the curtains. She was in bed in her old bedroom in her mother’s house on the morning of her wedding. There had been torrential rain for the past three days and she’d been extremely pessimistic about having a good day for the wedding. But it looked like the gods had been kind. She glanced at the clock beside the bed. Six forty-five. Not bad. She’d slept surprisingly well considering that she, Connie, Karen and Jenna had been up chatting and reminiscing until well after midnight. She picked up her phone and began a text: ‘Morning, darling, I love you so much, what a beautiful day for our wedding. See you later. I’m so happy, Love D xx.’

  Debbie hesitated as her fingers hovered over the send key. It was too early to text. Bryan would be fast asleep, and he’d only get tetchy if she sent a text that woke him up. That would not be the best start to married life, so she curbed her impatience and saved the message to be sent later.

  They’d hugged each other tightly when she’d left the previous evening to spend the night at her mother’s. ‘Don’t keep me waiting too long,’ he’d warned her, and she’d assured him that she wouldn’t be a minute late. ‘The next time you come back here you’ll be a wife and I’ll be a husband,’ he remarked as he lifted her overnight case into the boot of the car. ‘Weird, isn’t it? Sort of middle-aged and respectable.’

  ‘Not us at all – we’ll never be respectable.’ Debbie grinned as she kissed him and ran her hand over his ass.

  ‘The neighbours will see us.’ Bryan laughed, grabbing her in a bear hug.

  ‘We might as well shock them while we can then,’ Debbie said mischievously, kissing him again.

  She smiled at the memory as she lay in bed listening to the birds making an outrageous racket, twittering and whistling. Some people loved the dawn chorus; it had always driven her mad, waking her out of her precious slumber. She didn’t mind being woken up today though, this was the most exciting day of her life and she wanted to enjoy every second of it. She turned her head and saw her wedding dress, swathed in layers of tissue and covered with cellophane, hanging on the door of her bedroom.

  By the time she stepped out of it tonight she’d be Mrs Bryan Kinsella and a whole new chapter in her life would begin. All the planning and worrying for the big day would be over, and that would be a huge relief, she thought as she slid out of bed and padded over to the window.

  Yesterday she’d got a call from the hotel to say that their meat supplier had let them down and they were going to have to source their steaks from a new supplier, who charged more, so the bill would be higher than they’d budgeted for.

  The violinist had phoned to tell her she’d broken her wrist but had managed to secure a replacement. Debbie could only hope that the replacement was a first-rate violinist, not having had a chance to hear her play. It would be a disaster if she had to walk up the aisle to the sound of an out-of-tune, caterwauling violin.

  ‘No negativity,’ she told herself firmly as she tweaked back the curtains and saw a clear blue sky and a pearly hued orb cresting the tips of the fruit trees at the end of the garden.

  It truly was a glorious morning, she thought happily, watching Hope washing her face methodically, sitting in one of her favourite spots, an old stump of a tree trunk that was smooth to the touch and a real little sun trap for a cat that loved sitting in the sun.

  She felt a pang of loneliness as she looked out at Connie’s beloved cat. Today would be a real cutting of the ties with her mother. For almost as long as she could remember it had just been the two of them, their own little unit. Now she was making a new unit and Bryan would be the main focus of it while her mother would inevitably drift to the periphery. Debbie hoped with all her heart that Connie would not feel that she was being abandoned or sidelined.

  It had been hard on her mother having to adjust to living on her own. It had to be lonely for her, Debbie reflected as she got back into bed for another little while. Barry was lucky he had a second family to grow old with. Connie had drawn the short straw in their relationship for sure. Debbie sighed as she pulled the duvet up over her shoulders. She hoped neither she nor Connie would cry when Connie handed her over to the care of Bryan. What would they be like, sniffling at the top of the altar? She’d have a chat with her over breakfast and issue stern instructions that there were to be no tears under any circumstances.

  She stretched cat-like, glad now that the day was finally here. All the tensions that had knotted her neck and shoulders in the past few weeks had melted away, thanks in part to the relaxing massage her mother had given her the previous night. A phone call from Barry had also helped when he had told her that he wanted her day to be as happy as it could possibly be and how delighted he was that she had accepted his offer to drive her to the church.

  She and Bryan had agreed when they s
tarted making their wedding plans that they didn’t want a traditional wedding. They didn’t want a limo. ‘Too tacky for words and a waste of money,’ Bryan said as they had a look at the prices and decided they could spend their money in other ways. He was arriving at the church on his best man’s motorbike, and the original plan had been for his brother to bring Debbie and Connie to the church in the convertible but, after her reconciliation with Barry, there had been a few phone calls between them and, during the course of one of their conversations, her father had made his offer to drive her to the church. She’d discussed it with Bryan, who had urged her to accept.

  ‘If you’re not going to let him give you away, at least let him drive you to the church; it would mean something to him to be part of it, as well as paying for it,’ her fiancé had pointed out as she dithered.

  Put like that she felt it would be churlish to refuse.

  Connie had been so pleased with the news that Barry was driving them to the church, relieved that Debbie had taken another step forward in their ceasefire. Debbie knew her mother felt it would be a real moment of closure for the three of them to arrive together. It really did feel like the end of one chapter and the start of a new one, she mused as she turned on her tummy and buried her head under the pillow to drown out the noisy, chirruping racket outside.

  It had been strange sleeping in her old single bed. She’d missed the comfort of having Bryan’s body close to her own; she loved waking with his arms around her, especially on cold, frosty mornings in winter, when his leg or arm would be thrown across her in sleep. Being part of a couple gave her great comfort. As she’d got older she often wondered how her mother had lived for so long without the intimacy and companionship of a man. It was as if Connie had shut down all that part of her life.

  When she was a child Debbie had often hoped that her mother would bring her home a new daddy so that she would be the same as everyone else in her class. She’d fantasized about walking down the street with Connie and her ‘new’ daddy and bumping into Barry and seeing him crestfallen, gutted, as they all turned their backs on him.