City Girl

by Patricia Scanlan

  What a lark it would be. She could just see it all now, the wives reading her novel around the pool, wondering just who was meant to be who? Maggie felt a surge of energy and the cloud of depression lifted. Turning over some blank pages she bent her head and began to write furiously. Life was what you make it. If she wanted to sit at home and be bored she could do it or else get off her butt and stop feeling sorry for herself and do something about it.

  Three hours later she lifted her head. Her wrist was aching, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled with their old lively vitality. She was no longer bored out of her mind, in fact she felt invigorated.

  Smiling to herself, Maggie read what she had written.

  Devlin’s Story – II

  Fifteen

  Devlin observed her two year old daughter sleeping in her arms, the long sooty lashes fanning her pink little cheeks, her halo of fine golden curls soft and silky against Devlin’s tanned arm. It was the first time in months that the baby had looked so well and healthy

  The week in Rosslare had got rid of the pinched unhealthy pallor, the legacy of high-rise living, from both mother and child. Devlin wanted to kiss her baby fiercely, this precious little bundle that had been the cause of so much heartbreak and joy for her. Regretfully she decided against waking her. Lynn was quite a handful when awake and they still had a fair bit to travel.

  Catching Kate’s eye in the mirror she smiled at her aunt. If it hadn’t been for Kate she would never have pulled herself out of the mire of hardship and depression she had been in. For the first time in three years the burden of anxiety was lifted from her shoulders and she sank into the comfort of the back seat of the Peugeot station wagon, relaxing in the warm sunshine. They were driving to Wexford, to a new life, a healthy life in the rich sea air where her daughter’s lungs, which had been such a source of anxiety when they lived in Ballymun, would not be affected by the smog-laden air of the city or by the unhealthy heating system that they had to live with in their high-rise flat.

  Mind you, it hadn’t been all hardship living in ‘Ballier’; Devlin had made some good friends there and, more important, had discovered reserves in herself and a strength of character that she hadn’t realized she had. In Ballymun she had left behind forever the last vestiges of carefree girlhood. In Ballymun Devlin Delaney had become a strong determined woman and now this woman was starting out yet again to make a new life for herself.

  It was a relief to be moving away from the city of her birth although she felt a little pang at the thought of leaving Caroline and Maggie. What friends they had proved to be; utterly supportive, lifting her out of the black moods of depression that sometimes enveloped her, although it hadn’t been all gloom. They had also had great moments of fun and laughter, shoulder-shaking, rib-tickling, hearty laughter just like the old days. Friends were so important; great friendships something to be nurtured and treasured. Devlin knew that in Caroline and Maggie she had the best. Time and trauma had proved it over and over. They hadn’t slipped by the wayside when the going got rough. They had been right there with her and always would be, accepting her for what and who she was. With them there were no barriers. But apart from Caroline and Maggie there was nothing else to keep her in Dublin – nothing at all.

  As the miles slipped by, distancing her from the city and her old life, her thoughts wandered back over the past three years. They had been three years of experience, that was for sure. Smiling, she remembered the early months of her pregnancy and how she had got a job in an exclusive health centre in Kensington through sheer neck. It must have been desperation that had given her such courage. She grinned broadly as she remembered how it happened.

  After Devlin left the abortion clinic, she had hailed a taxi, booked a room in the London Tara, ate a huge breakfast and then gone shopping. Kensington had fantastic shops and boutiques and it hadn’t taken Devlin long to select a chic white linen suit. The skirt was pencil-straight but the well-cut jacket had slightly padded shoulders and three quarter length sleeves. She wouldn’t have to wear anything under the jacket and it complemented her tan beautifully. A pair of white high heeled shoes, a clutch bag, her gold chain at her neck, some perfume and she was right. It was a sophisticated vision that stared back at her from the mirror. She had had her hair done in the hotel salon and she knew without vanity that she looked perfectly groomed and classy . . . just the right person for the job as a receptionist in The Capital, the most exclusive health and fitness centre in London.

  Devlin had seen the job advertised in a health magazine she had picked up at the clinic and decided that it would suit her fine until her baby was born. ‘Don’t bother interviewing anybody else; I’m perfect for the job,’ she had informed the astonished personnel manager whom she had demanded to see, without an appointment. Listing off her impressive qualifications for the job, she had given Colin’s name for a reference. Having asked the woman to ring her at the Tara with her decision, Devlin had spent the following day sitting by the phone, sick with nervous tension, uncomfortably aware that staying at a top class hotel, and splashing out on her expensive suit had made a sizeable dent into her finances. She had almost given up hope of hearing anything when the phone rang and Mrs Arnott, the manageress of the health centre, told her grandly that on receipt of her references they would be happy to employ her. Limp with relief, Devlin rang Colin, told him that she was resigning and said the only thing she expected or wanted from him was a good reference, which she had earned.

  Coldly he asked for the address to send it to. He never mentioned her pregnancy or the abortion and Devlin had been as calm and cold as he. How little integrity he had. He was the ultimate in selfishness, an utterly shallow person, and she had fooled herself into thinking she was in love with him! Well that was one episode in her life that had taught her a lesson and she wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  Two weeks later, Devlin was installed behind the reception desk, surrounded by the cool marbled walls of the luxurious Capital centre. It was exclusive all right: only the very rich were able to afford its great range of health, beauty and slimming aids. It had its own hair salon, beauty therapists, nutritionists, aerobic instructors and health personnel. Many people from abroad came to avail themselves of its services while staying in London and she recognized several well-known personalities who signed in to be pampered and petted.

  It was an enjoyable job that suited her outgoing personality and the tranquil surroundings helped to calm her sometimes frazzled nerves. Luckily she had found a fairly reasonable bedsit which wasn’t too far from work. Her salary was excellent but she saved most of it, because in just a few months she would have another mouth to feed.

  Between getting the job and starting work, Devlin had returned home. When Lydia discovered that she hadn’t after all had an abortion and that she was planning on keeping the baby and living in London, there had been a horrific row. ‘What are you keeping it for? All right, have the baby in London but for goodness sake, child, have it adopted!’

  ‘I don’t want to have it adopted!’ Devlin shrieked, at the end of her tether. ‘I don’t want it to end up like me wondering about its real mother and father, feeling guilty like I do because I’m not yours and I feel I’ve let you down.’ Her face was scarlet with emotion, her hands clenched in two tight fists.

  ‘Jesus Mary and Joseph! Will you keep your voice down, Devlin, the whole street will hear you,’ Lydia snapped.

  ‘Fuck the neighbours, do you hear me? I don’t give a shit what the fucking neighbours think. They can go to hell for all I care!’ Devlin was shouting now as bitterness and resentment battled with hurt and despair inside her.

  ‘Devlin Delaney!’ Her mother’s exclamation and the swift sharp slap of her palm against Devlin’s cheek were simultaneous.

  ‘Oh!’ Devlin’s voice became a shocked whisper.

  ‘I won’t have that gutter language in my house, Miss. Is this the thanks you give your father and me after all we’ve done for you? You wanted for
nothing Devlin, nothing!’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Mum,’ Devlin was calm now. She knew it was pointless to argue with Lydia. Her mother’s vision was so narrow that she couldn’t see beyond the bounds of what people would say and the gossip about her pregnancy.

  Two bright spots appeared on Lydia’s cheeks.

  ‘What on earth are you talking about? Look at the standard of living you’ve grown up with. Gerry bought you a car for your eighteenth birthday. You’ve had foreign holidays, the best of education. What more could you want?’

  Devlin looked at the elegant woman standing before her, her perfectly made up face puzzled and angry. There was no harshness in the younger girl’s voice, only a sad wistfulness, as she said quietly, ‘I wanted someone to love me. I wanted a mother to kiss and cuddle me and make me feel special. And I’m going to do that for my child.’

  Lydia’s gaze faltered. Then she turned and walked towards the lounge door. ‘I’m not that kind of woman, Devlin, I did the best I could,’ she said stiffly. ‘And if you keep this child will it live on kisses and cuddles alone. There’s much more to life than that. It’s got to be fed and clothed. What do you tell it when it asks about its father? How do you think you’re going to afford to give it the kind of raising you had? You always were headstrong, you always will be. I just wash my hands of the whole affair.’ She gave Devlin a strange look. ‘You’re exactly like your mother, if that’s any comfort to you,’ she said before leaving the room.

  Devlin sat down in the tasteful apricot and cream lounge of her home. So that was that, then! Lydia washed her hands of the whole affair. There was no point in staying there, she decided glumly. With a determined thrust to her jaw Devlin closed the front door behind her and drove out to Sandymount. She rang her father and arranged to have lunch with him, over which she quietly told him of her plans.

  ‘Please stay in Dublin, I’ll support you, pet,’ he pleaded.

  ‘I can’t do that, Dad. I have to stand on my own two feet. Don’t worry – you know I’ll make the best of things, and besides I think I’m really going to like London.’ Poor Gerry! Caught between Lydia and herself, wanting to do the best for both. He made her promise to keep in touch and then swiftly wrote out a cheque and handed it to her.

  ‘I can’t, Dad!’ Devlin protested, stunned at the amount. It was for three thousand pounds.

  ‘You can and you will.’ Gerry’s tone was quite firm. ‘A father can give his daughter whatever he likes and don’t ever be short of money, darling. I’m glad you’ve decided to keep the baby. I hope it gives you as much joy as you’ve given me.’

  ‘Oh Dad!’ Devlin couldn’t speak. The lump in her throat was as big as a tennis ball. He hugged her hard and then he was gone back to the bank and Devlin didn’t feel quite so alone.

  Caroline too was utterly relieved that she was keeping the baby. ‘You’re doing the right thing, Dev, I know you are. It will all work out for the best – you’ll see.’

  ‘I don’t know. I hope so, Caro. I feel kind of scared,’ Devlin confessed. With Caroline she didn’t have to put on a brave face as she had done with her father. Now that she had finally burned her bridges she was beginning to feel very vulnerable.

  ‘You’re never scared of anything, Devlin!’ Caroline declared stoutly but her hug was extra warm and her cheeks were wet.

  By the time Devlin had sold her car and stereo, packed her clothes, books and dearest possessions and got her flight back to London organized, she hadn’t had a minute to think about the future – which was just as well. She arrived in Heathrow on the Sunday night, went back to the bedsit, made herself a cup of tea and went straight to bed. She started work at nine the next morning.

  Devlin had not told her employers that she was pregnant and she worried that if they found out they might ask her to leave. She consoled herself with the thought that winter would soon be upon them and she could wear big chunky sweaters to hide her condition. Pregnancy suited her: she was glowing and radiant, her skin and eyes clear and bright, her hair shining with health. Mrs Arnott told her one day that she was an excellent advertisement for the centre and that they were very pleased with her. Devlin was delighted. Her work always took her mind off her problems, and it helped to ease the awful loneliness she experienced. London was so big and impersonal, any city was, so she decided to act positively and do something about it. She might need friends when the time came for her to give birth.

  She had enrolled in a business studies course at night and gradually after her initial shyness had worn off she had become friendly with a girl called Doreen, a bright, extrovert, articulate West Indian girl. Doreen hadn’t been able to afford to go to college after leaving school but she was determined to further her education. She worked in a travel agency and had taken the course with a view to starting up her own business. Her determination and ambition had surprised Devlin. She had not taken the course with any eye to the future; she had taken it because it sounded interesting, the times of the classes suited her, and she wished to meet people, but as she studied more and listened to Doreen she began to have ideas about setting up a business of her own in the future. After all, she would have a child to support, so it was something to think about.

  About three months later, Doreen mentioned to Devlin that her flatmate was leaving to get married and asked her if she would like to share with her. Devlin was thrilled. Living on her own in the strange noisy exciting city was lonely and because she was saving hard she didn’t go out much, except perhaps for an occasional meal with some of the girls from work she had got friendly with.

  Doreen was the only one who knew about her pregnancy and the fact that she had still asked her to share meant a lot to Devlin. Her self-esteem, which had taken such a battering, began to recover and as the baby kicked lustily against her gently-swelling stomach she even began to look forward to the birth. Sometimes she talked to the child inside her, her hands gently caressing the bulge. So far she had been lucky. By clever dressing she had been able to conceal her thickening figure, but this would not be possible for much longer.

  Devlin decided to tell Mrs Arnott. After all they had been very good to her and she felt it wasn’t fair to betray their trust. Though she knew that she was legally entitled to keep her job despite her pregnancy, she would not want to stay on if by doing so she caused problems at the club. The manageress was taken aback and gave Devlin’s figure a close scrutiny. ‘Well, dear, I’m glad you told me. Let me think about it,’ she said kindly and Devlin had spent the day and night taut with tension, awaiting her decision. The following morning, she got a call from Mrs Arnott asking her to drop into her office. Her hands were damp with perspiration as she sat down in front of the manageress’s desk, trying to look composed. Mrs Arnott had smiled comfortingly at her.

  ‘Relax, Devlin! You don’t have to worry. We’ve decided to keep you on. After all, your work is excellent and our clients like you. As long as you do your work, dress smartly and look your best there is no reason to let you go.’ She met Devlin’s eyes. ‘There is one thing, dear. I’m sorry I have to ask this of you but could you wear a ring on your finger? It might be easier on yourself.’ Devlin blushed, pink with embarrassment. Nodding her head mutely she left the office, cursing Colin but most of all cursing herself for allowing herself to be in the position she was in. How stupid and silly she had been.

  Well, she had made one big mistake in her life and she’d be exceptionally careful not to make another. At least they aren’t sacking me, she thought. The prospect of her salary helped her to swallow the bitter pill of humiliation.

  Christmas was the worst. Doreen had invited her home with her but Devlin had been reluctant to impose herself and had decided to stay in the flat. Her father rang and asked her to come and stay in a hotel in Dublin at his expense. Obviously Lydia was determined not to allow her home. It didn’t really surprise Devlin that her mother’s fear of what the neighbours would say overrode all other considerations. She pitied her father, torn
between his love for her and his love for his wife. She gently refused his offer and hung up in the pits of depression.

  Tears stung her face in the biting wind as she walked home to the flat. All around her was evidence of the festive season but she kept her eyes averted from the gaily decorated shops, the magical brightly lit Christmas trees. It was hard to ignore the evocative Christmas music that tugged at her heartstrings bringing memories of happier Christmases in the past when all she had to worry about was who was bringing her to the New Year’s Ball, and which dress would cause the biggest sensation.

  The day before Christmas Eve, Caroline rang and asked her to come and stay with the family. Devlin was touched. Caroline was always there for her in her own quiet understated way. Again she refused but they talked for a while and when the call was finished she didn’t feel quite so alone. Caroline told her about her forthcoming engagement and Devlin tried to infuse some enthusiasm into her voice as she congratulated her friend. Why she could not take to Richard she did not know, but if he made Caroline happy that was all she cared about and God knows all Caroline had ever wanted was to be married.

  When she got home to the flat a big parcel awaited her and also an airmail letter with a Saudi stamp. Eagerly she ripped open the paper and found a huge furry dressing gown with matching slippers in a beautiful shade of pink. A bottle of her favourite perfume fell out of the sleeve and tears welled up in her eyes at Caroline’s kindness. The letter from Maggie was warm and full of encouragement and again Devlin couldn’t prevent a lump rising in her throat.

  God, I’m turning into a right weeping willow, she chided herself as she tried on the dressing gown. A snow shower had just started and she watched the snowflakes whirling hither and thither, blocking out everything in sight, imposing their own authority on the landscape. If only she could blot out her past so easily and start afresh, how simple life would be. Shivering, she lit the gas fire and made herself some tea and toast. Having done enough shopping to last her for three days, she intended not setting foot outside the door for the remainder of the week. The sooner Christmas was over the better. She comforted herself with the thought that she was no longer in her lonely basement bedsit. The flat she shared with Doreen was small and compact but very cosy and bright. Deciding resolutely to treat her few days off like an ordinary weekend she tried to forget the depression that had settled leechlike on her shoulders. She wondered why Kate had not written. It was most unusual, for her aunt wrote faithfully each week. The disappointment of not getting a letter or even a Christmas card nagged at her. It seemed to Devlin that the smallest thing could upset her these days and blaming it on her rioting hormones she settled down with a deep sigh to escape reality in front of the TV.