Forgive and Forget

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Yes, Dad?’ she said warily.

  ‘I don’t know if you deserve it, but I’ve booked a room for you and Sarah tonight. Now, I think you’ve had enough to drink and I won’t be letting on to your mother that you’ve been imbibing, because it’s not on, you know. This is strictly a one-off,’ he said sternly.

  ‘Oh Dad, you’re the best dad in the whole wide world.’ Her eyes lit up and she flung her arms around him.

  ‘Go on.’ He laughed. ‘You have me wrapped around your little finger.’

  ‘That’s what dads are for,’ Melissa informed him, hugging him tightly.

  ‘Your mother’s not best pleased—’

  ‘Dad, please can we talk about that tomorrow? This is one of the most seriously cool nights of my life,’ she begged.

  ‘Well, enjoy it then.’ He softened and she gave him a kiss before heading back to the dance floor.

  ‘Yessss!’ she exclaimed. Staying overnight with Sarah in a lovely hotel – what a treat. And he hadn’t said much about her clothes or how much she’d drunk. She might very well get away with it by the skin of her teeth. Aimee might have calmed down by tomorrow. ‘Sarah.’ She tugged at her friend’s top to get her attention. ‘We’re staying in the hotel tonight. Dad’s booked us a room.’

  ‘Hey, legend! That’s savage. Thanks so much for asking me to come, Meliss, I’ve never had so much fun in my life.’

  ‘Me either, let’s go dance.’ Melissa twirled out on to the floor and bumped into the blonde lollipop head. ‘Sorry,’ she apologized.

  ‘Hey, mind where you’re going,’ slurred the other girl, her eyes glazed.

  ‘Sure, sorry.’ Melissa edged away. Lollipop head was out of her tree for sure.

  ‘Who is that little fat tart?’ she heard her say to Fedora Head, as Sarah had christened her.

  ‘Dunno,’ said Fedora Head, who looked equally spaced out, her hat jammed down over her ears to keep it on, one boob perilously close to falling out of her blouse. ‘She keeps asking the fellas to have her photo taken with them. How sad is that?’

  ‘Don’t mind her,’ Sarah said, seeing Melissa’s crestfallen look. ‘She’s out of it. It’s all the coke she’s been doing. Look at her hat, she looks like Charlie Chaplin.’

  ‘I suppose,’ agreed Melissa resentfully. Hearing herself called a little fat tart had pricked her feel-good bubble, and she couldn’t quite get it back, even when she and Sarah had finally gone to their room and opened two Bacardi Breezers that a friend of Bryan’s had bought for them on the QT.

  As she lay woozily in her bed, feeling sick, sorry that she’d drunk that last alcopop and listening to Sarah snoring, Melissa vowed that she was going on a strict diet and no one would ever call her fat again.

  ‘I suppose there’s no point in me staying,’ Tom said to the nurse as she checked one of Judith’s monitors and straightened one of her IV lines.

  ‘We can call you if there’s any deterioration, and her vital signs are strong, so that’s a plus,’ she said kindly before gliding silently out of the curtained cubicle.

  Tom chewed his lip. He was tired, he had a long drive ahead of him, but if he left Judith now and she died on her own, how would he feel? His mother would never forgive him. But she more than anyone should understand, surely? He hated hospitals. They frightened him. He was afraid Judith was going to die while he was there. He’d never seen anyone dying. Would she choke or gasp for breath?

  He felt panicked. He hadn’t been able to stay with his father when he was dying. Judith had done that. Judith had done a lot of brave things, he thought, looking at his pale, eerily motionless sister. She looked small, shrunken in the bed. Tears sprouted from his eyes. He had to get out of here. ‘See you, Judith,’ he muttered, slipping out of the cubicle and making his way out of the HDU and down the long, deserted corridor to the lifts and exit.

  Lily lay wide-eyed in her bed, tossing and turning. It was just like when Ted had died. She’d lain there waiting for the phone to ring, knowing that if it did ring, it would be with the worst of all news.

  Tom had phoned earlier to say he was going home, that there was no point in him staying any later. Lily hated the idea of Judith being alone with none of her family beside her. She would go in as early as she could tomorrow. The sister had told her she could visit whenever she wished. That sister was very kind. All the nurses were. Judith was being well taken care of. The only other comfort she had was that the sister had told her that Judith’s vital signs were strong. Everything depended on the swelling of the brain and how that went. Lily could only hand it up and trust in God.

  Still, she could be at Cecily’s, feeling fluttery and agitated, she consoled herself. At least she was in her own bed, in her own house and that in itself was a comfort. With a deep sigh, Lily took her rosary beads from under her pillow and began to say her prayers for her stricken daughter.

  ‘Come on and have a last drink with me,’ Barry urged as they stepped into the lift to go to their rooms on the third floor. He pressed the button and they glided smoothly upwards. Their family members were gone, and only a few of Debbie and Bryan’s friends remained in the residents’ bar. The bridal couple had staggered off to bed a quarter of an hour previously, having said their goodbyes. They were up at the crack of dawn in the morning to go to the airport. Debbie had given her father and Melissa the warmest of hugs, and that had made the day perfect for Connie.

  Bryan too had hugged her tightly and thanked her, and she decided she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. She’d never seen Debbie look so happy and that was what counted.

  ‘A little one, we deserve it. We put in a long day,’ Barry coaxed.

  ‘I’m not drinking any more, I’ve enough drink taken.’ Connie gave a tipsy giggle.

  ‘Ah, just one, for old times’ sake,’ Barry insisted as the doors opened and they walked out into the corridor.

  ‘Well, a spritzer then,’ Connie agreed good-humouredly. ‘What room number are you?’

  He checked his key. ‘322.’

  ‘Right, we’re nearest yours then, it’s just across the hall there.’ She pointed out his room, pleased that she wasn’t completely squiffy.

  ‘OK.’ He swiped them in and turned on more lights.

  Connie flung herself down on the bed, lying back against the pillows, and yawned as Barry rooted in the mini bar for white wine and a mixer. ‘That was a great night,’ she said, wriggling her toes as she kicked off her high heels.

  ‘Well, you seemed to enjoy it.’ He handed her a drink.

  ‘I did. Once I’d done my duty and made sure everyone was fed and watered, I said to hell with it, and I enjoyed myself enormously. It’s a long time since I’ve danced like that.’

  Barry sat down on the bed beside her and took a slug of his beer. ‘You weren’t short of partners,’ he said off-handedly.

  ‘I know, it was great . . . and at my age too.’ She grinned, looking up at the ceiling, thinking it was a mistake to relax on the bed. She was beginning to feel sleepy.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with your age, you’re a fabulous woman,’ her ex-husband said huskily, putting his glass on the bedside locker and leaning over to kiss her.

  Taken by surprise, she involuntarily kissed back but, as the kiss deepened and he began to caress her breast, she struggled up and pushed him away. ‘Stop, Barry, we’re not doing this again.’

  ‘Why not? You enjoyed it and so did I. We’re good together,’ he cajoled, trying to push her back against the pillows again.

  ‘Stop, Barry!’ This time there was no mistaking her tone and he pulled away, disgruntled. ‘But I thought you wanted to?’ he protested. ‘I thought when you lay down on the bed—’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake! You thought wrong, Barry. Once was one time too many as far as I’m concerned. Now I’m going to my room and we’ll forget it ever happened.’ She swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  ‘Why? Is that Steve fella waiting for you?’ he said nastily, stung at being rebuffed. �
��I don’t like you flirting with young men, like you were this evening. You’re not Mrs Robinson.’

  Connie stood up, picked up her shoes and stared at him, her eyes flinty.

  ‘Even if Steve is in my room that’s my business and not yours. And if I want to flirt, I damn well will flirt. I’ll live my life the way I want to. I’m a single woman and I can see and be with whomsoever I want, and don’t you ever forget that. And don’t you dare ever question me like that again,’ she snapped.

  ‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I’d just be worried about you.’

  ‘You don’t have to worry about me, Barry. I’m not your responsibility. I ceased to be that a long time ago. I’m glad today went well. I’m delighted you and Debbie patched things up but, for me, that’s as far as it goes. I have my own life to lead now and I intend to live it to the full. Sleep well, I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said coolly and walked out of the room, leaving him staring after her in disbelief.

  Connie padded barefoot down the corridor, shaking her head. Where did Barry get off telling her how to conduct her personal life? What a nerve. What did he think she was, his concubine?

  Just as well she’d nipped that in the bud, she thought, yawning her head off as she let herself into the room. She should never have had sex with him in the first place. It was her own fault. She was hot and sweaty after all the dancing and the bed looked so clean and crisp and welcoming. Connie knew she’d feel much better if she had a quick shower. Twenty minutes later, clean and smelling of L’Air du Temps body lotion she slipped between the sheets. She stretched before turning on her tummy, drawing one leg up to her chest. She felt strangely liberated. It definitely was the end of one chapter in her life and the start of another, she thought drowsily, and she was looking forward to it. A new job on the horizon, hopefully, and who knew after that? Maybe she might meet someone but, even if she didn’t, she’d made sure Barry was in no doubt as to where she stood with him. She yawned again and was asleep in seconds, downright relieved that the wedding had gone off without any major hiccups.

  ‘You read that all wrong, mate,’ Barry scowled as he undressed for bed and switched out the lamp. He lay, tossing and turning, annoyed for making such an ass of himself in front of Connie. She’d given him a fine piece of her mind too and pulled no punches. She was so much more assertive now than when she was married to him. He liked it. He liked that she knew her own mind and wasn’t afraid to speak it. In the old days she would have bent over backwards to accommodate him and keep him happy.

  The good old days, he sighed. They were long gone. What a rollercoaster of a day today had been. First Aimee turning on him, and now Connie. Debbie was the only one who was on speaking terms with him, apart from Melissa. Given all that had gone on between them previously it was an irony indeed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  ‘Take deep breaths, Lily,’ Lily instructed herself as she stood waiting for a bus to take her to the hospital. It was 8 a.m. and she was alone at the stop. Every so often a car would drive by, but the road was quiet compared to the usual mayhem and traffic congestion of a weekday morning. Sunday was a good day for her first venture alone on a bus in a long time. Ted was looking after her, she was sure of it.

  She’d slept fitfully and woken at quarter to six to find sunlight slanting through a gap in the curtains. She’d lain in that half-waking state for a moment or two until she remembered, and an icy apprehension gripped her. Judith was very ill. Her heart began to race, but she made herself breathe deeply and sit up. The hospital hadn’t phoned, so that was good, she calmed herself as she made her way downstairs and filled the kettle.

  Lily busied herself in the kitchen, but she couldn’t settle. She needed to be with Judith. Cecily had told her that she’d collect her and bring her to the hospital in the afternoon, but she couldn’t wait that long. Cecily wasn’t even going to her garden party. Lily was pleased about that. At least her younger daughter had some sense of decency.

  Grimly determined, Lily washed and dressed and put on her pale blue summer jacket. If Judith opened her eyes today, she would find her mother sitting by her bedside holding her hand.

  As she stood nervously peering along the Drumcondra Road in search of a bus on the horizon, she was nearly tempted to hurry back home, but she thought of Mrs Meadows, who’d shared a ward with her a few weeks back. She’d been so vibrant and independent, and she was older than Lily. And had more complaints. Lily was still healthy, despite her nerves.

  ‘Stop giving in to yourself,’ she said crossly, spotting a green double-decker at the traffic lights at Fagan’s. Her grip tightened on her handbag. ‘Come on now; think of Judith,’ she told herself sternly, bravely putting out her hand for it to stop.

  ‘Does this bus go to Beaumont Hospital?’ she quavered, as the doors whooshed open.

  ‘Yes it does.’ The driver smiled at her.

  ‘That’s where I want to go,’ she said, stepping aboard.

  A minute later she was sitting in the almost empty bus, exhilarated. She’d done it. Lily smiled. It was a small step, but it was a step towards freedom, hers and Judith’s.

  ‘Judith, you’d be proud of me,’ she told her daughter twenty-five minutes later as she sat holding her hand. ‘I got the bus in to see you. And I stayed the night on my own. Sent Cecily home with a flea in her ear for not coming on time yesterday. Did you sleep well? It’s time to wake up now like a good girl.’ She peered anxiously at her, wondering if she’d heard a word she’d said.

  ‘Did she come to at all?’ she asked the nurse who’d come in to change her drip.

  ‘No, Mrs Baxter, I’m afraid she didn’t. The doctors will be here later on their rounds and you can have a word with them. But just keep talking to her and hold her hand. That’s the best thing that you can do for her.’

  ‘I’ll do that, don’t you worry,’ Lily assured her. ‘She minded me very well, you know, especially when my poor husband died. Now it’s my turn to mind her.’

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Kinsella.’

  Debbie woke to find her new husband smiling down at her.

  ‘Morning,’ she mumbled, sleepy-eyed. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Time you were up. We got us a plane to catch to the good ol’ USA.’

  ‘Uuuugg,’ she groaned. ‘Do we have to get up? Couldn’t we just stay in bed and make love and go asleep again?’ she entreated.

  ‘Are you mad? Make love first thing in the morning! We’re an old married couple now,’ he teased.

  ‘Aaww,’ she giggled, sliding her hand down over the curve of his hip.

  ‘We could have a quickie in the shower,’ he suggested, leaning down to kiss her.

  ‘Better than nothing,’ she grumbled, yawning widely as he hauled her out of bed.

  ‘We should have given ourselves a day to get over the wedding,’ she reflected as they walked arm in arm into the bathroom.

  ‘We can sleep on the plane. C’mere, I’ll wake you up,’ Bryan promised, drawing her into the shower and turning on the spray.

  ‘Babes, we need to get a move on,’ he declared twenty minutes later as she sat in a towelling robe drying her hair. He was shaved and dressed, and he flicked the channels on the slim, widescreen TV, waiting for her to finish.

  ‘Look at the state of that car,’ he remarked as the TV3 news flashed up a shot of a wrecked blue Bora embedded in a tree as they did a piece on weekend road deaths being up compared to the same period of the previous year.

  ‘Judith Baxter has a car that colour,’ Debbie mused. ‘Thank God I won’t be seeing her for another three weeks. She does my head in.’

  ‘If you don’t hurry up, we won’t have time for breakfast,’ her husband complained, flicking to Sky sports.

  ‘Nag nag nag, is this what it’s going to be like?’ Debbie ribbed, but she put her skates on, ravenous after their early morning love-making. Now that she was up and showered, she was looking forward to her honeymoon in New York with huge anticipation.

  It wasn�
�t so bad being married, Bryan reflected as he gazed at the gold ring on his finger. He was on a complete high. The wedding had been a great success and now they were going to New York on their honeymoon. He was sitting at an internet screen in a small area of the lobby, trying to book tickets for a show on Broadway. He keyed in one of their joint credit card details, yet again, and the same message flashed up. Card declined. This was disturbing. Debbie wouldn’t be too happy if she knew. They’d have to transfer much-needed funds from their current account. He opened his wallet and pulled out another card. His new wife didn’t know he had another credit card; in fact, there were a few things Debbie didn’t know about him. Primarily, that he had a second bank account and a second credit card.

  There was nothing wrong with keeping separate accounts. A chap at work had advised him on the matter. He was married with three kids, but his relationship with his wife had always been a bit jaggy. He had been stashing a few quid away every week for years in case everything went belly up. ‘Don’t see why women should get everything when they haul you through the divorce courts, especially when they’re earning their own money,’ he’d told Bryan in a drunken discussion one night. It was a strategy that made sense to Bryan, and he sighed with relief that while that joint credit account might be maxed out, his own personal and private account was quite healthy. Whistling, Bryan paid for the tickets just as his spouse emerged from the lift, looking around for him in the deserted foyer.

  ‘Here, babes, just checking a few emails.’ He waved. ‘I’ve ordered a taxi for us, now let’s eat – we don’t want to hit New York on an empty stomach.’ Never mind an empty credit card, he thought, feeling just a tad guilty that he was not being completely upfront with his wife.

  ‘Girls, have whatever you want for breakfast. I’m having mine in my room and I’ll meet you in the foyer,’ Barry instructed down the phone a couple of hours later as he lay in bed watching golf on the TV.