Forgive and Forget

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘You’re absolutely right,’ her friend agreed, eyeing the very handsome young foreign waiter, who winked at her. She blushed and went beetroot as he offered her a glass. ‘And one for my friend, please,’ she said, trying to appear sophisticated.

  ‘Of course,’ he agreed, winking again, handing her a glass for Melissa. Sarah had a brainwave as they moved away.

  ‘Do you think he’d have his photo taken with us? We could ask him to take his tie off, and then he’d look like a guest,’ she suggested to Melissa, who had taken too hearty a gulp of her bubbly and was trying not to choke.

  ‘Wicked idea. No one would know he was a waiter. Sarah, you’re a genius. You ask him.’

  ‘No, you ask.’

  ‘It was your idea.’

  ‘It’s your sister’s wedding.’

  ‘Oh! Oh, OK then,’ Melissa agreed. She cleared her throat and moved back to the table where the waiter was loading champagne flutes on a tray to circulate among the guests.

  ‘Um . . . we were just wondering if we could have a photo with you,’ she ventured.

  ‘A photo, here?’ He stared at her in surprise.

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind. We’re doing a photo journal, we want to have a record of every . . . er . . . phase of the wedding,’ she fibbed. That sounded plausible, she thought, pleased with the word ‘phase’. Sarah gave a thumbs-up behind his back.

  ‘Why not?’ agreed the hunk, eyes twinkling.

  ‘Um . . . er . . . could you take your tie off?’ she requested, feeling a blush begin.

  ‘Oh! Why no tie?’ He had the sexiest foreign accent; she wouldn’t mind getting to know him outside of work, Melissa thought wistfully, longing to have a boyfriend. A boyfriend would make her life almost perfect.

  ‘Less formal.’ She smiled.

  ‘I understand,’ he said gravely, comprehension beginning to dawn. ‘But I can’t delay too long,’ he explained. ‘I’m working, and my boss wouldn’t be too happy seeing me getting a photo taken with a beautiful girl.’

  ‘Right. It won’t take a minute. You can tell him it’s for a photo journal if there’s any problem,’ Melissa said hastily, hardly able to believe her ears that he’d called her ‘beautiful’. If she’d been wearing that awful dress he wouldn’t have said that. Changing her outfit was well worth any hassle she was going to get from her parents if this was the outcome. ‘Here’s the camera, Sarah. Will you take the first one and then I’ll take one?’

  ‘Sure.’ Sarah put her glass down and positioned the viewfinder.

  ‘Smile,’ she instructed as Melissa edged closer to the hunk. He took off his tie and slipped an arm around her. ‘Hold your champagne glass,’ Sarah advised. ‘And you hold one too,’ she suggested to the waiter.

  ‘I can’t drink on the job,’ he demurred.

  ‘Just for a second – quick,’ Melissa urged, grabbing Sarah’s glass and handing it to him, thinking how clever her friend was. Holding champagne glasses would make them look soooo sophisticated. She couldn’t wait to show the photos around the class when they went back to school in the autumn.

  Sarah took two photos for good measure. And then she changed places with Melissa to have hers taken. ‘Thanks so much, er . . .’

  ‘Micah. And you’re welcome. Enjoy the wedding.’ He laughed, putting his tie back on. ‘I should get back to work – have another glass of champagne.’

  ‘Don’t mind if we do,’ giggled Melissa, taking a glass. This wedding was turning out so much better than she’d initially expected. And to think she’d once dreaded it. She studied a crowd of Debbie and Bryan’s glamorous friends quaffing champagne and nibbling canapés.

  ‘Let’s go and do a couple of lines,’ she heard one blonde lollipop head say to her friend, who was wearing a black fedora trimmed with a magenta ribbon that matched exactly the silk blouse she wore with black palazzo pants. The blouse, slashed to the waist, revealed a generous amount of tanned flesh.

  Imagine having the confidence to wear an outfit like that, Melissa marvelled as the two young women strolled off nonchalantly to do drugs.

  ‘Are you drinking alcohol, Melissa?’ She turned to find her grandmother looking at her in disapproval.

  Oh butt out, Gran, she thought irritably, hoping no one had heard.

  ‘Dad allows me to have champagne on special occasions.’ She kissed her grandmother’s soft cheek. ‘You look lovely, Gran,’ she complimented, hoping to deflect any more discussion of what she was drinking.

  ‘And where is my son?’ Her grandmother raised her eyebrows at this information.

  ‘Getting his photo taken with Debbie and Bryan.’

  ‘And where’s your mother? Did she come?’

  ‘Well, she was in the church earlier, but I don’t see her now. I’m not sure if she’s coming to the reception. She might have to go back to work, there was a crisis earlier at some job she was working on,’ Melissa explained. She’d had a quick look around for Aimee when the photos were being taken outside the church and not seen her, but she wasn’t too anxious to go looking. Lots of the guests had strolled off to the hotel once the group photo was taken. She and Sarah had been among the first to go, in an effort to avoid her parents. She knew a mega ticking-off was in store. And she didn’t want that happening at this very cool occasion.

  ‘I see. Well, don’t drink any more of that on an empty stomach,’ her grandmother warned. ‘You might get me a cup of tea like a good girl. I’ll be sitting on a sofa in the foyer.’

  ‘OK, Gran,’ she agreed, trying to hide her irritation. Even though she loved her Granny Adams she was damned if she was going to dance attendance on her for the rest of the evening. She procured the desired cup of tea and brought it out to her grandmother, who was chatting to Karen. She edged away discreetly. ‘Thank God for free seating,’ she whispered to Sarah as they skirted a group of Bryan’s workmates and their girlfriends.

  ‘Yeah, let’s decide who we’re going to honour with our presence,’ Sarah grinned, taking another two glasses from their special waiter and enjoying herself massively.

  Connie took a deep breath. She wanted this over and done with so she could enjoy the rest of the day. She was standing watching Martin photograph Debbie and Bryan in Stephen’s Green. She and Barry had just had their photos taken with the bridal pair, and Barry had gone back over to the church to get the car to drive them all to the hotel. For the first time that day she was on her own. She scrolled down her contacts list, selected the name she wanted and pressed the dial button. The number rang for a few moments and then a woman’s voice answered. Cool, clipped. Not very friendly.

  ‘Aimee, it’s Connie,’ she announced crisply. She heard a sharp intake of breath.

  ‘Yes, Connie,’ the other woman said snootily. She didn’t even sound abashed, Connie thought crossly. She was damned if she was going to go easy on her now, with that attitude.

  ‘This won’t take long, Aimee. I thought I’d be able to say it face to face but you obviously felt you couldn’t stay—’

  ‘Under the circumstances I thought it would be best if I didn’t,’ Aimee interrupted coldly, not allowing her to finish.

  ‘Understandable,’ agreed Connie, equally frosty. ‘Brawling in public is rather draining, I’m sure. However, that’s not why I phoned you. Strictly between us, Aimee, I just want you to be very clear about one thing: Debbie and I don’t want one red cent of your money. We never have and we never will. And I object strongly to your totally unnecessary and uncalled for remark to Barry when you were going into the church. Whatever Barry chooses to contribute to the wedding is entirely up to him. We don’t need it, but he’s Debbie’s father and he wants to. That’s his business. And I respect his wishes. But if you ever make a statement again, like you did today, I won’t be as restrained as your friend was earlier, Aimee,’ Connie said icily.

  ‘Point taken,’ Aimee clipped.

  ‘Excellent. Let’s hope we never have to have a conversation like this again. Bye,’ Connie said briskly and
hung up, not giving Aimee a chance to answer.

  ‘Well done,’ she muttered, relieved, proud of herself that she’d made her feelings known and glad that that ordeal was over. Aimee Davenport would think twice about trying to make her and Debbie feel under a compliment. And there’d be no more smart cracks at any function the two families might ever have to attend in the future. Borders had been set. Sometimes a woman had to draw her boundaries and stand up for herself. She’d handled it well, she decided, feeling satisfyingly empowered as she saw Barry’s car pull up on the other side of the railings.

  It hadn’t surprised her that the other woman had gone home. Only someone with a very hard neck would have stayed and brazened it out. Aimee probably wasn’t too impressed either that Barry had stayed up the front of the church with her. He’d been between a rock and a hard place there, she conceded, feeling sorry for the difficult position her ex-husband was in. Nevertheless, it was Debbie’s wedding day and she’d welcomed his place at her side. It had made the ceremony less lonely for her. And it wasn’t as if she’d been making demands on Barry for the duration of his second relationship. She’d scrupulously avoided doing that and Aimee, although she might not think it, was very lucky in that regard. Not having Barry at her side for a lousy couple of hours for one day in her life wasn’t going to kill her.

  She’d think twice about looking down her superior nose at her again, Connie thought with satisfaction. That superiority had been hard to stomach over the years, but today she’d certainly had the last word and made her feelings crystal-clear. Aimee had been noticeably taken aback, especially when Connie had implied that she’d resort to violence in the event of a repeat performance. Connie grinned. It might take some of the starch out of Aimee’s sails if she got a good puck in her posh mush. Another episode like the one earlier and that was exactly what she would get.

  ‘Bitch, bitch, bitch!’ seethed Aimee. The incorrigible cheek of Connie Adams. The absolute, incredible nerve of her to ring their home phone and speak to her the way she just had. Aimee wasn’t too sure if she’d dreamt the conversation. No one had ever told her off like that before. In fact, no one had ever spoken to her like that in her entire life. She’d been hauled over the coals twice in the one day, and Connie’s had been the far more effective and humiliating rebuke, she acknowledged wrathfully.

  From this day forward there would be no quarter given between her and Barry’s ex. Up until now, Aimee had tolerated Connie. She’d always felt a cut above her husband’s middle-aged, frumpy first wife. Today she’d seen her in a far different light. Connie had looked decidedly unfrumpy in her wedding outfit, in fact she’d looked smart and chic. And she’d been very much in control of the whole situation that had developed, leaving Aimee feeling decidedly wrong-footed, a feeling that was rare for her these days.

  From the start of this damn wedding, Aimee had felt as though the sands were constantly shifting under her feet. She supposed it was the only time in their association that she’d had a long-drawn-out awareness of the ‘first family’. She’d been lulled into a false sense of security. Bad mistake.

  She’d underestimated Connie, but not any more. The other woman had become a formidable enemy. This day a line was drawn and Connie Adams would never step over it again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  You can’t fall apart, Judith needs you, Lily said silently, willing herself not to have hysterics as she sat by her daughter’s hospital bed, holding her hand. Cecily was out in the corridor on her mobile phone to Tom, who was coming in to do the night shift.

  Judith looked so pale and vulnerable as she lay unconscious surrounded by machines and monitors and tubes, her face bruised, her arm in plaster. She was in a coma.

  Lily had known the minute she’d seen the guards coming to the door it was something bad about Judith. True to form, she’d gone into a swoon. Her heart had been pounding so fast and her knees had just turned to jelly. She was angry at her weakness, angry that she’d felt faint again a few hours ago walking down the long hospital corridor to get to her daughter’s bedside. This was no time to be weak. If she gave into herself this time there’d be no going back. She remembered how she’d taken to the bed for months after Ted had died. But then she’d had Judith to take care of her. Now it was her turn to take care of Judith.

  Cecily had told her that she’d have to come and stay with her while Judith was in hospital because she wouldn’t be able to stay in Drumcondra. She wasn’t having that, Lily decided. She’d been prepared to stay on her own for the night that Judith was away and she was still going to try it. She wanted to stay in her own home. She always felt like an awkward guest in Cecily’s. At least she could do as she pleased at home. There was a bus to the hospital that she could get on the main road; she could go to see Judith without depending on anyone else for a lift. When her daughter was fit and well again they could talk about her future and what she wanted to do and where she wanted to live. Lily shook her head in disbelief. Who would have thought when she woke up this beautiful, sunny morning that the day would turn out to be so horrendous?

  She stroked her daughter’s hand, wishing that there was some response from her. If Judith died, what would she do without her? How could she live with any peace of mind knowing that they’d parted on bad terms? Tears prickled her eyelids and she brushed them away. Judith had enough to deal with without her bawling. The nurses had told her to talk to her. Lily cleared her throat. What would she say? She looked at her daughter lying waxen against the pillows, her forehead drawn in a little frown as if she were going through some intensely private struggle that demanded all her concentration. She looked like a corpse already, Lily thought in dismay.

  ‘Come on, Judith. Come on, pet. Don’t go like this. Don’t go after cross words between us. Don’t do that to me. At least let me tell you to your face how grateful I am to you for taking such good care of me,’ Lily whispered. ‘Wake up for me so that we can make our peace.’

  ‘Well, she won’t come home with me and I can’t stay with her. Can you take her tonight?’ Cecily whispered, standing at the end of a corridor talking to her brother.

  ‘No. We have Glenda’s sister and her husband staying, the guest room’s taken. She’ll have to stay with you,’ Tom insisted.

  ‘Well, she won’t, and there’s nothing I can do about it.’

  ‘Just tell her she has to come with you for a few days until we sort something,’ Tom said, exasperated.

  ‘I’m telling you she’s staying put,’ Cecily snapped.

  ‘Ma’s not going to live by herself! You know what she’s like.’

  ‘Well, she told me earlier on, before we knew about Judith having the crash, that they’d had a row before she left. Ma said she’s had enough of the lot of us and she says she’s going to sell the house and go and live in a nursing home.’

  ‘You’re not serious!’ He couldn’t believe his ears.

  ‘I am. That’s what she said.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, there’ll be nothing left. Those nursing homes cost a fortune and she’s still relatively young,’ Tom exploded.

  ‘Tom! That’s an awful thing to say. You should be ashamed. Judith could die. Doesn’t that bother you?’ Cecily started to cry.

  ‘Yeah, it does. Of course it does. We had a row, too, so we weren’t speaking either, so that doesn’t make me feel very good,’ he muttered.

  ‘What did you have the row about?’ Cecily sniffled.

  ‘Ma’s will. Judith thinks she’s getting that house.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that might not be an issue now and we’ll be left to deal with Ma, and Tom . . .’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m not doing it on my own,’ his sister warned. ‘Because if I’m left with her, she can sell the house and go into a home, as far as I’m concerned. I wouldn’t be able to cope with her like Judith did.’

  ‘I hear ya,’ her brother snapped. ‘I’ll be in later.’

  He was something else. Judith was lying in a coma and cou
ld die, and all he was worried about was his inheritance. Even she wasn’t that callous, Cecily thought as she walked reluctantly back along the corridor to join her mother at her sister’s bedside. Her stomach rumbled; it was teatime and she hadn’t eaten since her breakfast. Lily would be in the same boat. She didn’t want her fainting in a heap on her again. That had been scary. She should go and get her to eat something. Cecily sighed. She felt burdened. And guilty. Whether she liked it or not, she was going to have to take some responsibility for her mother. Now she was going to get a taste of what her sister had had to cope with for so long. In the space of a couple of hours Cecily’s world had been cast into upheaval and she felt utterly daunted.

  ‘I just couldn’t imagine Aimee in a slanging match.’ Karen grinned as she and Connie managed to grab a moment together to catch up as they drank a very welcome cup of coffee.

  ‘Well, Aimee wasn’t saying that much. She was trying to cool the other one down, but she wasn’t having it. Aimee was mortified. Then Melissa arrived, looking like she was going to a nightclub, and both she and Barry were horrified so they had a go at each other, and that’s when she stomped off into the church saying that she’d been working to help pay for the wedding and Barry should have been there to keep an eye on what Melissa was wearing. She was sorry she’d said it, though, by the time I was finished with her. I’d say she was fairly shocked when I rang her. I was the last person she expected at the other end of the phone.’ Connie grinned.

  ‘No wonder she scuttled off.’ Karen pursed her lips. ‘I heard her clattering down the aisle. I’d say Barry deciding to sit beside you in church didn’t go down too well either.’

  ‘I was surprised about that myself, to be honest. I wasn’t expecting him to. But I was glad for Debbie, she was pleased about it,’ Connie said lightly. ‘It was no big deal as far as I’m concerned and, if that’s the reason Aimee took off, she has little to worry about.’