Forgive and Forget

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘I’m so sorry I’m late, Ma, Gerard got delayed at the tennis club. They didn’t get a court when they’d booked one, so he wasn’t home in time to collect Billy from Scouts and I had to do it. Are you ready to go?’ Cecily asked breathlessly when Lily opened the door to her, two hours later than the agreed pick-up time. ‘If we can leave now it would be good. I’m in a bit of a rush, I’ve to pick up a pair of trousers I left into the dressmaker to be altered. I’m going to a garden party tomorrow afternoon after I’ve dropped you home.’

  Her younger daughter stood jangling her keys impatiently. Her hair was styled and, from the heavy sweet scent wafting in her direction, Lily surmised that she’d just come from the hairdresser’s and that was the reason she was late, no matter what nonsense she was spouting. Cecily was always the same when she called, forever in a hurry; anxious to spend as little time as possible in the house she grew up in.

  ‘I’m not going with you. If you can’t have the good manners to come and collect me when you say you will, and then you can’t wait to drop me home so you can go to a garden party, why on earth would I want to?’ Lily snapped.

  Cecily’s head jerked up. ‘What?’ she said, not sure if she was hearing right.

  ‘I don’t want to come with you, miss. I’m fed up being made to feel I’m a nuisance by my family. None of you have any feelings for me. Judith’s gone off after giving me a right mouthful of cheek because you were late. Could you not have been in time for once in your life? Could you not put yourself out? It wouldn’t have killed you to be here when you said you would. Judith doesn’t ask you to do much. She was meeting her friend for a day out. It wasn’t much for her to ask, you selfish little biddy.’ Lily’s hurt and anger had a target and she wasn’t going to hold back.

  ‘Excuse me, Mother, that’s not fair,’ exclaimed her younger daughter. ‘I’ve a family, kids, routines, I can’t just drop everything when Judith expects me to.’

  ‘You never drop anything, that’s the problem. You’ve left it all to Judith to deal with. No wonder she gets irritable, I feel sorry for her because you and that other lazy lump never give her a thought . . . or me, for that matter.’ Lily’s eyes glittered, and her cheeks were stained a dull purple. She was almost wringing her hands with agitation.

  ‘You’re in a fine humour, Mother, and you’re being totally unreasonable,’ Cecily retorted, stunned at this unexpected and, in her view, undeserved onslaught.

  ‘You might think that, and why wouldn’t you? You always were a selfish little madam and I let you get away with it. You scuttled off as far as you could when your father died and I had my nervous breakdown. You left it all to Judith to deal with and now she can’t take it any more. She went out of here this morning having said terrible things to me and all because you couldn’t make it your business to be here on time. So you can go back the way you came on your own because I’m staying here and sleeping in my own bed and I’m not going to put you or Gerard out ever again. He can play tennis until the cows come home, and you can go to garden parties. I don’t give a fig about the pair of you,’ Lily spat, enjoying the feeling of not having to restrain herself and being able to say exactly what she felt like saying without worrying about the consequences. She was never ever going to be under a compliment to any of them again. It felt extremely liberating to be saying these things. What a fool she was not to have said them years ago. She could have saved herself untold misery, Lily thought with a flash of regret.

  ‘Mother, that’s horrible,’ protested her daughter. ‘We do worry about you. It’s not a question of putting us out. You’re being very mean.’

  ‘Am I? Well, it’s time for me to stand up for myself and not be pushed around by you lot any more. I’ve had enough of being a burden. I’m thinking of selling the house and going into a nursing home,’ she fibbed, enjoying the look of absolute horror that crossed her daughter’s sharp little face.

  ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘Why not?’ demanded Lily, almost relishing her daughter’s consternation.

  ‘Well . . . because . . . because you don’t need to go into a nursing home.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that, miss,’ declared her mother.

  ‘Have you discussed this with Tom?’ Cecily demanded, shaken by what she was hearing.

  ‘What would I be discussing my business with him for?’ Lily scoffed. ‘He had the cheek to ask me had I made my will when I went into hospital. He didn’t care about my health, he was only worried about getting his whack.’ Her nostrils flared in disgust.

  ‘I’m sure he wasn’t. I’m sure he was only making sure that your business was in order. It’s very important to have a will made when you have property,’ Cecily informed her patronizingly. Lily wanted to smack her. Did she think she was a fool?

  ‘Well, I won’t have property if I sell it, will I?’ she said slyly. ‘So I’ll just have to make another one and you can all go and take a running jump. I’m going to leave whatever’s left to charity,’ she retorted, knowing that Cecily would go running to Tom and they’d have a pow-wow and wonder how they were going to handle this crisis.

  Lily had no intention of reneging on her promise to Judith to leave her the house, but it was good to keep the other pair on their toes, she thought with a rare feeling of satisfaction. Not having to keep all her emotions suppressed for fear of them abandoning her was most refreshing. She felt in control of the situation. That was a first. Judith was going to leave her, she was sure, and the others didn’t want her, so the thing she’d feared most had come to pass but, amazingly, now that she had to face it, it wasn’t as frightening as she’d thought. The fear of it had been worse than the actuality of it, Lily realized, and her heart soared on eagle’s wings. I’m free, she thought. I can do what I like and I’m not afraid . . . well, only a little bit, she admitted. She couldn’t wait for Cecily to leave so she could practise ‘freedom’.

  Her daughter pursed her lips in annoyance, not at all happy with the way the conversation was going. ‘Mother, are you coming with me or not? I don’t want to be standing here arguing,’ she snapped irritably, opening the front door wider. A squad car pulled up behind her SUV. ‘Who’s that for, I wonder?’ Lily frowned, peering out through the front door to watch the officers get out of the car. A house down the road was let. Maybe the tenants were drug suppliers. An apartment not too far away had been the scene of an arrest recently. It had been shown on the evening news. It was a posh apartment in lovely grounds, not one of those eggboxes that were springing up all over the place. You just never knew what was going on in your neighbourhood. Lily tutted as the guards put on their caps and walked towards them.

  ‘They’re coming in here,’ she gasped, her hand going to her throat. The police coming to your door could only mean bad news.

  ‘Why do you think they’re calling here?’ Cecily asked. ‘Hello, officer, is there a problem?’ She greeted the young policewoman who stood on the step. Lily couldn’t speak. Something awful had happened, she just knew it.

  ‘Is this the home of Judith Baxter?’ the policewoman asked politely.

  ‘Yes, yes, what’s wrong? What’s wrong with Judith? I’m her mother,’ Lily demanded, finding her voice.

  ‘Perhaps we should go inside where you could sit down,’ the policewoman suggested kindly. Lily felt a bleak feeling of dread rise up from the pit of her stomach and permeate every fibre of her being, smothering her with fear.

  ‘Tell me what’s wrong with Judith? She’s had an accident, hasn’t she? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?’ She tried to keep the hysteria out of her voice.

  ‘I’m afraid she has, Mrs Baxter,’ Lily heard the policewoman say, and then the hall faded in and out, wavering before her eyes, before she fainted away into oblivion.

  ‘I was glad Barry sat with you in the church; it was sort of . . . fitting. Where’s Aimee, did she not come?’ Karen murmured as she and Connie stood outside the church while the photographer tried to gather everyone for the grou
p photo. Connie could see Barry on his mobile phone, and he wasn’t looking too happy.

  ‘I’ve loads to tell you – there was a bit of a barney outside the church with a friend of hers and then she and Barry had a tiff, and I think she must have gone home because she’s not here now. We’ll try and get a few minutes together at the hotel,’ she whispered as Barry made his way in their direction, putting his phone back into his pocket.

  ‘Aw, hell, I’ll never last,’ Karen moaned. ‘I’m dying to hear all about it. Look at the get-up of Melissa. That top’s very low and those jeans just about fit her. I’m surprised Aimee let her come in jeans. She usually has the poor kid in designer stuff at the few family dos we’ve had.’

  ‘Sshhh, that’s part of what the tiff was about.’ Connie shushed her sister-in-law as her ex-husband joined them, looking grim-faced. ‘Hi, Barry, everything OK? Is Aimee still here? I don’t see her around,’ she asked delicately.

  ‘No, she’s gone home in a snit. Sorry about that,’ he apologized grumpily. ‘I suppose Connie told you about the carry-on?’ He turned to his sister.

  ‘What?’ Karen feigned complete innocence, widening her eyes at him.

  ‘It’s nothing – forget it, Barry. Look, we should get this group photo done so the guests can carry on to the hotel for the champagne reception while Debbie and Bryan are having their photos taken in the Green.’ Connie changed the subject, feeling a little sorry for Barry. All the enjoyment had gone out of the day for him and that was a pity. Aimee had a lot to answer for, she thought crossly. A daughter’s wedding day was very special for any parent. It was no day to go around causing scenes and upsetting people. Had it been Melissa’s wedding, how would she have felt if Connie had carried on in a similar way? She’d behaved disgracefully as well as disrespecting both Connie’s and Debbie’s feelings. It just wasn’t on, she decided grimly and she was going to let Madam Davenport know that. Connie intended making her feelings known before this day was out.

  Debbie had never felt so loved in her entire life, and it was wonderful. I’m married. I’m Mrs Kinsella, Bryan’s my husband and I’m his wife, she thought joyfully as she emerged from yet another hug, grinning from ear to ear. She caught sight of her new husband surrounded by his mother and sisters, and their eyes met and he winked at her and she felt a glow of pure happiness.

  What a wonderful day she was having – apart from the incident with Aimee, but she certainly wasn’t going to let that interfere with her pleasure. When she’d turned to kiss her mother in the ceremony at the sign of peace and seen Barry sitting beside her in the front row she’d been delighted for Connie. Delighted that she wasn’t sitting on her own, delighted that, for once, Barry had put Connie first over Aimee. She wondered briefly how the other woman felt about Barry staying up the front with his first wife. Sore, Debbie hoped, with a little smile, remembering Aimee’s condescension towards her and her mother over the years. But then she forgot all about her as one of the girls from the office came over and enveloped her in an affectionate embrace. From the corner of her eye she could see Melissa and Sarah smiling at her. Melissa had obviously not worn what Aimee had expected her to wear and Debbie applauded her little act of defiance. The more she got to know the younger girl, the more she liked her. ‘Excuse me a sec,’ she murmured to her friend. ‘I just need to get a photo with my sister.’

  ‘Melissa,’ she called. ‘Come on, let’s get a photo taken together.’

  ‘Cool,’ agreed the teenager, a little abashed as she teetered over in her heels to stand beside her.

  ‘Hope you enjoy the rest of the day now,’ Debbie said as they slipped their arms around each other’s waists.

  ‘You bet. Thanks for asking us, Debbie,’ Melissa said with heartfelt gratitude.

  ‘Look, I know I wasn’t very friendly before this, I had a few issues to deal with and I’m sorry. They had nothing to do with you. I really want us to be friends as well as sisters. Deal?’ She looked into her sister’s bright blue eyes, which were overly and inexpertly made up. Debbie smiled, thinking that, in spite of all the make-up and the sophisticated clothes, Melissa couldn’t hide the fact that she wasn’t much more than a kid.

  ‘Legend. I’d really like that too, thanks, Debbie,’ Melissa said earnestly as the photographer, with an eye for a good photo, snapped away, catching the moment when they smiled at each other in an unposed photo that each of them would cherish in years to come.

  Aimee flung her clutch bag on the sofa, kicked off her skyscraper heels and poured herself a glass of chilled orange juice before sinking down on the sofa. What a bummer of a day. She lay back against the cushions and sighed deeply. It was stressful enough having a five-tier christening cake being ruined two hours before the event and having to find a replacement, but then having Gwen make a show of her outside the church in front of the Adams women was too much. She supposed she should at least be thankful that Gwen hadn’t staged her performance in front of Roger O’Leary. She’d never have lived that down. Professional suicide. She nearly broke out in a cold sweat thinking about it.

  Aimee scowled. Gwen had caused her a lot of grief with her utterly childish behaviour. What she’d done was unforgivable. She’d been like a kid throwing a tantrum. You will notice me! Aimee sat up straight. She needed to vent. Why the hell should Gwen get away with making her look like a complete tosser? Because that was what she’d done. How dare she? Aimee found her BlackBerry and dialled Gwen’s number.

  ‘Yes, Aimee?’ Gwen answered frostily.

  Don’t give me that attitude, thought Aimee, narkily launching into an offensive. ‘Gwen, where do you get off making me look like a—’

  ‘Fuck off, Aimee, and don’t ring me ever again,’ came the cutting retort before the other woman hung up, leaving Aimee staring at the phone, stunned. Quiet, malleable, impressionable Gwen had just cursed at her before hanging up on her. Well, that was that then! She would never have anything to do with her again. Gwen would have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting back in her good books, Aimee fumed.

  She stood up and went to her bedroom, anxious to change out of her dress. Now that she didn’t have to attend Debbie’s reception she had some unexpected time to herself. She’d go down to the gym and have a good work-out to try and get her head straight again. Try and feel some sense of control. She had some prepared meals from Donnybrook Fair in the fridge if she was hungry later, but right now she had no appetite for food she was so pissed off. Her mobile rang and she saw that it was Barry.

  ‘Where are you?’ he said tersely.

  ‘Home.’ Her response was equally terse.

  ‘Well, thanks for all your help in making the day run smoothly. Thanks for all the support,’ he said sarcastically.

  ‘Any time,’ she said abruptly before hanging up on him. She had no intention of defending her behaviour to her husband. There was no denying she had behaved badly, and she certainly wasn’t proud of herself. Barry had been wounded to the core by her comment about her working to pay for the wedding. She should never have said it. She’d lost her cool and it had come out in the heat of the moment as her resentment overflowed. But she had said it, and it couldn’t be taken back, so her best course of action was to weather the storm as quickly as she could.

  He had every right to be annoyed with her, she thought glumly as she sat on the edge of the bed. But she had just as much right to be annoyed with him: he’d left her sitting on her own in the church. He’d made a choice between her and Connie in a very public arena and Connie had won. What did that say about the current state of their marriage and his loyalty to her?

  She sighed. Was she completely overreacting? This was all so unlike her, Aimee thought despondently, flicking through the latest copy of Vanity Fair, which she’d picked up off the chaise longue at the end of the bed. It was pleasant just to sit and do nothing; maybe she wouldn’t bother going to the gym, maybe she’d just sit out on the deck, the ‘to-die-for’ landscaped deck. She gave a wry smile, remembering Gwen’s moc
king imitation of her. It was only jealousy on her ex-friend’s part, she comforted herself.

  She slipped out of her dress, wrapped a sarong around her and opened the French doors. It was hot outside and the faint breeze that drifted in off the sea was a welcome relief. She was about to lie down on one of the loungers when she saw the alcopop bottles lying on the deck.

  I’ll kill the pair of them, she thought in utter dismay, her heart sinking like lead. Her first instinct was to phone Barry and tell him that their daughter and her friend had been drinking secretly but, with all that had gone on earlier, she knew that would be the last straw for him. Another scene at Debbie’s wedding would be one scene too many.

  She was furious with Melissa. Her daughter had really taken advantage today. Wearing those jeans and that top to the wedding had shown a total disregard for both her parents. And now this. Drinking behind their backs was a step too far. A day of reckoning was coming with Melissa, one that she wouldn’t forget in a hurry, Aimee vowed as she picked up the bottles and brought them into the kitchen to have on display as evidence for when her daughter came home.

  ‘I know Dad wouldn’t mind us having a glass – remember, he allowed us to have one the day Debbie called,’ Melissa said confidently as she and Sarah edged towards the tall, slender champagne flutes full of bubbly gold liquid that was practically begging to be drunk. ‘And, anyway, I have to celebrate something really important.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Debbie and me – my sister and me. She wants us to be friends as well as sisters,’ Melissa said giddily, delighted with her earlier encounter with Debbie. ‘That’s real important. That’s something to celebrate with champagne. It’s just brilliant, you know. I used to think she was a real snobby bitch, and she probably thought I was the same, and she’s not like that at all. She apologized to me. Can you believe that?’

  ‘Wow, that’s pretty impressive.’

  ‘You bet it is – my dad’s going to be over the moon about it. It’s what he’s always wanted. He’d want us to have a glass of champers if he was here.’