Forgive and Forget

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Just go, for goodness’ sake, and leave me in peace. I know I’m nothing but a burden to the lot of you,’ Lily retorted defensively, cross at yet again being made to feel like a nuisance. ‘The sooner I’m dead the better.’

  ‘Ah, stop that!’ Judith snapped. ‘I’ve enough on my plate without you talking that kind of nonsense.’

  ‘I don’t talk nonsense,’ Lily flared, stung at having had that accusation thrown at her twice in as many weeks. ‘It’s how I feel and someday, when you’re my age, you’ll know what it’s like.’

  ‘And what about how I feel?’ Judith shrieked, her eyes blazing with a sudden ferocious anger. ‘How do you think I feel when a young one half my age is waltzing up the aisle today and I could have been like her and done the same thing if you hadn’t got your claws into me because you were too selfish and self-centred to think about anyone except yourself when Daddy died? How do you think I feel, Mother? Thanks to you, I’m seen as a bitter old spinster at work and – guess what?’ She thrust her face up close to Lily’s. ‘That’s what I am. A bitter, twisted – I won’t call myself an old maid because at least I had a few shags in my life – but bitter and twisted, with no hope of anything better, is what I am, so don’t you be telling me how you feel today. Sometimes, Mother, believe it or not, life’s not all about you!’ Her lips were drawn in a thin line; she looked almost feral.

  Lily was so shocked at this vicious and unexpected onslaught she couldn’t move or speak. Her heart flip-flopped into palpitations and she could hardly breathe. But Judith was oblivious to her distress, she was so angry.

  ‘I’m going, and when that other selfish cow comes you can tell her to get some milk because we’re almost out and I don’t have time.’ She didn’t even wait for Lily to respond but stalked out of the sitting room. The front door slammed and a tomb-like silence descended on the house so that all Lily could hear was the thudding of her heartbeat, which was hammering against her chest. She heard the rev of the car’s engine and the car roar off down the street, the noise fading as Judith drove further away.

  Lily made her way to her chair, slowly, and sat down, utterly dazed. It was out in the open now. All that simmering fury and resentment that had fuelled Judith all these years and which, up until now, she had managed to contain in surly restraint. There could be no going back from this day. There was no façade to hide behind. The truth was out, ugly, hurtful and insurmountable. How could they recover from this and live together in any kind of harmony? The vile things her daughter had said to her about being selfish and getting her claws stuck into her shocked Lily to her core. And calling herself bitter and twisted. And revealing that she’d had sex. If she were behaving normally Judith would never have divulged such private information. She must be very stressed indeed to have blurted that lot out, Lily thought anxiously. She was behaving like someone on the edge of a breakdown. The idea frightened Lily. A breakdown was hard to claw back from; she wouldn’t want her daughter to go through that vale of tears. Lily knew she should be dismayed at Judith’s revelation but she wasn’t, no matter what the church said about having sex outside of marriage. The church didn’t put its arms around you at night and make you feel loved.

  She was glad for Judith that she’d had some intimacy with a man. She hoped it had been comforting and satisfying and not just a shag, as she’d called it. Lily had loved that side of life with her husband; she’d always felt safe and secure in his arms and she’d missed their closeness so much when it was gone. Sleeping alone in her bed had been the loneliest, hardest thing to get used to.

  What was she going to do? How should she deal with this? Her hand trembled as she raised it to wipe the tears from her eyes. It had to end. For both their sakes. Lily sat up straight as her breathing began to return to normal and her heart rate started to slow down. Let her ungracious daughter go, and let the other selfish one come and make her excuses, and then she’d tell her to get out of her sight. She wasn’t going to be made to feel like a nuisance again this day. She was sick of them all. Not one of them had a decent bone in their body. She should have stood on her own two feet a long time ago and, if she had, she wouldn’t be in the mess she was in now. Dependent on them for peace of mind. She could get a home help for herself. That lady, Mrs Meadows, whom she’d shared a room with in the hospital, had a home help who did her hoovering, cleaning and some light shopping.

  Lily’s needs were few anyway. It would be lonely sleeping in the house on her own, she thought sorrowfully, but thousands of people had to live alone and they managed it. Judith hated her, and rightly so, she’d ruined her life. Lily started to cry again. She was angry with her daughter but she understood why Judith had exploded as she had. It must be hard watching the young girls in the office getting married and knowing that her own chances of finding a husband were slipping away. Who married fifty-year-old women with elderly mothers tied to them? Lily cried bitter tears for her daughter as much as herself.

  First thing on Monday morning, when Judith was gone to work, she was going to ring the bank manager and make an appointment to go and see him. Anything had to be better than this purgatory, she decided as she wiped her eyes and went out to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘Hell, look at the time.’ Bryan glanced at his watch and saw with dismay that he was running quite late. He’d gone for a manicure and decided to treat himself to a facial as well, which had taken longer than he’d expected but had been most relaxing and enjoyable. His best man, Kenny, was at the house when he got home and they’d sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and eating his mother’s homemade tea brack while she and one of his sisters titivated themselves upstairs.

  ‘Better get my suit on and leg it. If I’m late, Connie will be giving me the evil eye.’ He made a face.

  ‘Mothers-in-law – don’t talk to me,’ groaned his friend. ‘Mine thinks motorbikes are dangerous and is always giving me grief about it.’

  ‘Tell her to frigg off. Come on, let’s get into our gear.’ Bryan drained his coffee and left his cup and plate on the table for his mother or one of his sisters to clear away.

  ‘Handsome dude,’ he said twenty minutes later, admiring his reflection in the mirror. Kenny had changed in ten minutes, but he had taken his time. His light-grey Armani suit and red silk shirt looked the biz. It had cost an arm and a leg, but he was determined he wasn’t getting married in a monkey suit and, besides, he’d get a lot of wear out of it, so he viewed it as an investment piece. His friends would be impressed and, if you couldn’t impress people on your wedding day, when could you do it? he reasoned.

  ‘Are you ready, darlin’? Let me see you.’ His mother knocked and poked her head around the bedroom door. She was wearing a black feathery creation on her head and a red jacket over a black and red patterned skirt which had a swirling fishtail effect. It looked very dressy on her, he thought proudly as he struck a pose for her. ‘I just need to gel my hair and I’m ready. What do you think?’

  ‘I think you look like a Hollywood star. You look magnificent. Debbie’s a very lucky girl. I hope she knows that.’ His mother gazed at him approvingly.

  ‘I think she does,’ he assured her confidently as he rubbed some gel on his fingers and ran it through his black hair, which fell boyishly over his left eye. He looked a little like a young Bryan Ferry, he decided as he styled his long fringe. Arty. Intelligent. It was a look he cultivated. His image was important to him.

  ‘Right, Ma, I’d better go, I’m running late. See you there, and make sure you and Vera bring my cases to the hotel,’ he instructed as he hurried downstairs.

  ‘Don’t you worry about a thing, son, everything will be looked after. Now go and enjoy your wedding,’ his mother said, trying not to cry as she followed him down the stairs. ‘You won’t forget us now, sure you won’t? There’ll always be a bed here and a dinner on the table if you ever need it,’ she told him as he took the helmet Kenny handed him.

  ‘I kno
w that, Ma,’ he said, bending down to kiss her cheek. She enveloped him in a bear hug. ‘Mind my suit, Ma,’ he said anxiously, not wanting it to get creased.

  ‘Sorry, pet.’ She pulled back and patted him down. ‘Ah, son, I miss you something terrible,’ she said sadly. ‘The house isn’t the same since you left. I can’t believe how long it’s been.’

  ‘That’s life, Ma,’ he said cheerfully, used to her sentimental ways. ‘I’d better go. If I’m late I might be coming back to live with you full time if Debbie gets mad at me,’ he teased, placing the helmet carefully over his hair. ‘Come on, you and Vera need to get going too.’ He ushered her out the door, where his sister was sitting in her car. The neighbours were waiting for him to wish him well, and he enjoyed their banter and good wishes before finally managing to bundle his mother into the car, laughing as Vera roared off down the drive, putting Alonso to shame.

  ‘Kenny, let’s get the show on the road,’ he ordered his best man, looking forward enormously to his big day now that it was finally here.

  ‘Where are you? I’m waiting in the Shelbourne.’ Aimee tried to hide her exasperation as the phone reception crackled.

  ‘Sorry, Mom, there was a traffic tailback due to an accident in Blackrock so we decided to get out of the taxi and get the Dart. We’ll get a taxi from Tara Street directly to the church, and we’ll only be a few minutes,’ Melissa explained airily as the train whooshed past the Merrion Gates.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Melissa, you should have given yourselves plenty of time. I told your father we wouldn’t be late. Get there as quick as you can.’

  ‘Sure, Mom, no sweat. See you there. Byeee.’ Melissa hung up and threw her eyes up to heaven. ‘Mom’s panicking. But she’s meeting us at the church, so things are going to plan. If we leave it to the last minute to go in she won’t be able to fly off the handle in public, so we should get away with it OK.’

  ‘I think she’ll still be pretty annoyed; your mum is much stricter than mine,’ Sarah remarked as she took out her compact and checked her make-up for the umpteenth time.

  ‘Tell me about it.’ Melissa grimaced. She knew her mother would be far from pleased with her change of outfit, but she still felt it was worth the hassle. She looked cool in her new jeans and low-cut top. That dress her mother had bought her was totally uncool. Every guy at the wedding would have run a mile if she’d worn it. Sometimes her mom had no clue about fashion – she was so into her work suits and her cocktail dresses and clothes for women that she completely forgot what it was like to be a teenager. She wanted Melissa to wear the type of clothes she wore.

  Aimee would never dream of wearing jeans to a formal occasion. She wouldn’t allow Melissa to wear very short minis or belly tops. Sarah was right. Her mother was quite strict really, Melissa reflected. Just as well she had to travel a lot and Melissa could get away with wearing cool gear when she was going out. It was hard enough trying to be the same as the rest of the class without having to wear clothes that were totally awful. If she’d worn that dress she’d never have been able to show the photos around at school without some of the horrible, bitchy bullies sneering and jeering at her. Melissa sighed. Some of her classmates were tarty skangers. They picked on the quieter ones and made their lives a misery.

  The best thing to do at school was to fit in as much as possible and keep your head down. If the bullies thought you were different they’d come after you and she so didn’t need that. She’d seen the way Amanda O’Connell and her little gang undermined people’s confidence with their whispering campaigns. She’d seen them turn best friends against each other, pretending one had said something about the other. Shelly Anderson had had to leave the school because of bullying, and she’d been so upset by the harassment she’d taken tablets and had to have her stomach pumped.

  Melissa and Sarah had admitted to each other that they were ashamed they hadn’t stood up for Shelly and tried to help, but they hadn’t wanted to draw attention to themselves and have Amanda and co. turn on them. They swaggered around so full of confidence and seemed to be able to do whatever they liked. Their parents had loads of money, especially Amanda’s. She’d caught her mother snorting coke at a party she was throwing and had boasted about it in class the next day. She thought it was a really savage thing to do. She planned to do it herself, and soon, she assured her classmates. She’d already smoked pot and had taken a few E tabs.

  If Melissa caught her mother snorting coke she’d be totally upset, she pondered as the train slowed to a halt at Tara Street. A heaving mass of shoppers surged through the doors and, dizzy with excitement, Melissa and Sarah tottered along the platform in their high heels, eager for the opportunities that awaited them at Debbie’s wedding.

  ‘Aimee, good to see you. You’re looking extremely well. Are you going somewhere nice, all dressed up?’ A stocky, balding, fair-haired man held out his hand to Aimee as she strode through the elegant foyer of the newly refurbished Shelbourne.

  ‘Roger, how are you? Great to see you.’ She took his hand and gave him a firm handshake, very pleased that she was looking her best. Roger O’Leary was the multi-millionaire property developer whose daughter’s wedding her firm was catering for. He was their biggest private client and she kept that in mind always, although she disliked him and his attitude that his money could get him whatever he wanted.

  ‘Have you time for a drink? Let me buy you one?’ he offered, eyeing her appreciatively. ‘Just flew back from Cork in the chopper, to have lunch with one of my local TDs. He got a junior ministry after the election. Good to keep in with these guys and keep them on their toes. Half the cabinet will be at the wedding,’ he bragged, waving at a young female journalist heading into the Horseshoe Bar.

  Oh for God’s sake! Aimee thought in exasperation. He was such a vain, pompous ass. Roger was nothing to look at, but he was a well-known lady’s man. His long-suffering wife had given up on him long ago, and the rumour was that she had sought solace in the arms of another long-suffering wife who moved in their elite circle. Roger’s greatest attraction was his wallet, Aimee thought grimly as she managed to evade his grasp. He had precious little else going for him except his hard neck.

  ‘I’d love a drink with you, Roger, but I’m on my way to my step-daughter’s wedding and I’m running a little late,’ she apologized, glad she had a legitimate excuse not to take him up on his offer.

  ‘Oh! Where?’ he eyed her cleavage and then slid his gaze lasciviously down her tanned legs. Her dress, a black washed-silk radzimir off-the-shoulder with a chunky gold zip on the back, came to her mid-thigh. It was sexy and elegant, from the latest collection of one of her favourite designers, Marc Jacobs. Roger certainly seemed to think so, as he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  ‘University Church,’ she said crisply. ‘And I really must hurry.’

  ‘I’m heading in that direction myself, I’ll walk with you,’ he suggested, and her heart sank. Just what she didn’t need. A fat, dirty-minded little oompa-loompa trotting along beside her when she was in a hurry.

  ‘A good opportunity to bring you up to speed on what’s happening with your own wedding,’ she said smoothly, hoping to deflect any enquiries as to where Debbie was having her reception. She took off at speed out the door and down the hotel steps, walking as swiftly as her Jimmy Choos would allow.

  She was telling him about the bone china she’d sourced when she spotted a woman with two children beaming at her as they walked towards her. It was Gwen and her kids. Aimee’s heart sank further. Gwen was looking less than smart in a pair of jeans and a black vest top and a creased linen jacket, her hair escaping from the clasp that was doing a poor job of holding it up. The kids were arguing, and she could hear her friend telling them to behave. How mortifying, she thought in dismay. She didn’t want Roger to get the wrong impression about whom she mixed with. Gwen would understand if she didn’t stop to talk, she thought uneasily as the gap between them closed.

  ‘Hey, this is a surprise, great to s
ee you, you look—’ her friend started to say before Aimee cut in coolly.

  ‘Gwen, how are you? Making the most of the good weather? I’ll give you a call some time,’ just slowing her pace to make her greeting. She barely had time to detect the startled look on her friend’s face before she passed her without looking back. ‘My dentist’s secretary – I must make an appointment for a check-up,’ she fibbed, and then launched into a description of the flowers and handmade Rathbornes candles she’d ordered for the tables.

  She hoped Gwen wouldn’t be mad with her, she was sure she’d understand that she couldn’t stop to chat when she was with a punter. Aimee brushed away her disquiet as she did what she did best – schmoozed her client.

  Gwen Larkin turned to look back at Aimee and stood rooted to the spot, shocked. She knew exactly what had happened: Aimee had just blanked her. Mortified, hurt, angry, she stared after her erstwhile friend, noting how stylish and affluent she looked in her designer clothes.

  OK, so she wasn’t wearing any designer labels and she wasn’t dressed to kill, Gwen thought angrily, but she wasn’t exactly a bag lady. Aimee hadn’t wanted to introduce her to whomever she was with, that was exceedingly obvious. A client, no doubt, but even so, Gwen couldn’t believe that her so-called friend had actually spoken to her the way she had, as though she were a mere acquaintance not worthy of a minute of her time. She had even tried to avoid making eye contact. Gwen was so wounded she had to struggle not to cry.

  All the times she’d sat listening to Aimee moaning on the phone or boasting about this swanky lunch she’d been to or about her latest acquisition, or a holiday that she’d booked or a business trip to Milan or Paris. In fact, the only time Aimee rang her was when she had something to brag about, Gwen realized as she resumed walking, remembering how she’d phoned a while back to tell her she was getting an expensive new kitchen installed.