Double Wedding

by Patricia Scanlan

  It was a relief to be on her own, and Carol stared at her reflection in the mirror, marvelling at how different she looked in the white duchess satin creation that clung to her supple body in a subtly sexy way that delighted her. In spite of herself a frisson of excitement raced through her. She was getting married. Something she’d always wanted. In less than two weeks’ time she’d never have to worry about dating or men again. She and Gary would have a good life together; they’d buy a nice house. She had enough for a deposit. It would be a chic and elegant house, far different from what she had grown up in. In time she’d give up work to have children and they would be the most loved children, she vowed. They’d never suffer the way she had. They’d be sure of a mother’s and father’s love. They’d never know the kind of scrimping and saving she’d known. She lifted the veil and placed it on her head, arranging its pristine folds around her. She looked fabulous, she decided, her heart lifting a little. Gary would be gobsmacked. Spending the extra money on her dress was well worth it. At least she wouldn’t be trotting up the aisle in a homemade dress, she reflected snootily, thinking of Jessie.

  She sighed. She should ring Jessie and make sure she wasn’t still in a snit, she supposed. After Mike’s humiliating rebuke she wasn’t particularly eager to have any contact with her friend. But she didn’t want to risk his wrath again.

  She left the bridal boutique twenty minutes later, happy that her dress was the perfect dress for her. She was pleased that she’d finally selected the elegant duchess satin model that Amanda had so liked on her. Her bridesmaid had selected a pale lilac halter-neck dress that suited her tanned sallow skin and black shoulder-length wavy hair. She looked very well in it, but most importantly, in Carol’s view, Amanda didn’t outshine her. All eyes would be on her, very definitely. She’d better sort the situation with Jessica, she decided, rooting in her bag for her phone.

  Can we meet for a chat?

  She keyed in the text message, deciding it was the easiest way to make contact. The ball was in Jessie’s court. It was up to her. Mike couldn’t accuse Carol of not making the first move. She saved the message before sending it. Just in case she needed proof.

  * * *

  ‘Carol’s sent me a text,’ Jessica informed her fiancé as they tucked into a Chinese takeaway. They’d decided against going out for a meal and were curled up snugly on the sofa in their new sitting-room, slathering plum sauce on to pancakes and filling them with spring onions and crispy duck.

  Mike took a draught of Bud. ‘What does she say?’ he asked offhandedly, secretly pleased at this development. He’d been waiting all day for Carol to contact Jessie. He’d been all prepared to phone her and tell her the double wedding was off if she hadn’t got in touch.

  ‘She wants to meet for a chat.’ Jessica nibbled on a prawn cracker while she made up another selection of pancakes and duck.

  ‘Good!’ he said succinctly. ‘Sort out your tiff and forget it and let’s enjoy the wedding.’

  ‘Yes, boss,’ Jessica scowled. ‘It means if I meet her after work tomorrow, I’ll be late getting home.’

  ‘It would be worth it though, wouldn’t it?’ Mike helped himself to a chicken ball.

  ‘Yeah, you’re right. Once the wedding’s over and done with I don’t give a hoot what she does or says.’ Jessica started keying in her reply.

  Thank God for that, Mike thought gratefully, hoping against hope that this was the final hurdle and that they could all walk up the aisle in relative harmony.

  * * *

  ‘Carol rang me and told me she thought she’d made a mistake. She wanted to meet me,’ Sean confessed as he and Katie sat in Eddie Rocket’s waiting to be served.

  ‘What!’ Katie couldn’t believe her ears. ‘I don’t believe it. What did you say?’ she asked uncertainly.

  ‘I said I was dating someone that I really liked and that it wouldn’t be appropriate,’ he told her evenly.

  ‘And do you want to see her?’ Katie asked, staring at him.

  ‘No, I don’t, Katie, not the way you mean. I just wanted to make sure she’s OK. She sounded so miserable.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake.’ Katie scowled.

  ‘It’s not going to happen, don’t worry,’ he assured her hastily. ‘I rang her today to tell her that if she was having doubts she should call off the wedding.’

  ‘And did she listen to you?’ Katie said crossly.

  ‘Nope. She told me in a very frosty voice that she was having a fitting for her wedding dress and then said goodbye and hung up. And do you know something?’ He took her hand and stroked it gently. ‘I felt bloody guilty, Katie. Why did I feel that way? She was the one that dumped me, after all.’

  Katie laughed at the perplexed expression on his tanned face.

  ‘Sean, honey, you’ve just been well and truly “Caroled”. Don’t worry about it. It happens to us all. In fact,’ she glanced at her watch, ‘as we speak, Jessie will soon be experiencing the exact same feelings. Making people feel guilty is darling Carol’s forte.’

  * * *

  Jessica parked the car along Merlyn Park, and hurried across the train tracks just as the red lights began to flash in preparation for the barriers to come down. She hoped the Dart was heading for town rather than Bray. She raced into Sydney Parade station and bought her ticket just as the train came clattering along the tracks. What a bit of luck, she thought with satisfaction as she shoved her way on to the packed train.

  She and Carol had arranged to meet close to a Dart station so that she wouldn’t be stuck in traffic trying to get into the city from RTE. They’d decided on Clontarf. All arrangements had been made by text. She would have to apologize to Carol for insulting her mother, she thought ruefully. She’d gone too far and she was ashamed of herself. That barb had been well below the belt. Carol had plenty to apologize for too, though. It wasn’t all one-sided.

  The train drew into Lansdowne Road and a woman in the seat she was standing next to got out. Jessica sat down gratefully; she was tired. She was working flat out to clear her desk before she took her wedding leave. She’d spent the afternoon chasing guests who hadn’t got their bank account codes or PPS number filled in on their payment dockets. It was a pain in the ass. The previous payments system had been much less hassle. Some guests got very tetchy being asked for such personal details, and she’d had to be at her most diplomatic.

  The train pulled into Pearse Street, and for a moment a welcome breeze wafted through the carriage as the doors slid open and a good number exited the train. It was a temporary respite. As many people boarded as had left, and the carriage was full in seconds, the smells of perspiration, smelly feet, perfume and garlic breath intermingling with the stale smells of the upholstery on the seats. A toddler fell into her lap and guilt got the better of her, so she offered the grateful mother her seat and stood once more as the train swayed along the winding tracks.

  She was mighty glad when the train doors closed at Amiens Street and it gathered speed for Clontarf. As soon as she saw the sun glinting on the sea and the cars winding bumper to bumper along the Alfie Byrne Road, she weaved her way through the throngs to the door. It was very possible that Carol was on this Dart, she thought, as she stepped on to the platform and let the welcome breeze wash over her.

  She watched the alighting passengers hurry past her down the steps and saw no sign of Carol. Perhaps she’d arrived already. They’d arranged to meet in Bar Code, the airy, spacious restaurant attached to the Westside Fitness and Leisure Centre, just minutes from the Dart station. The weather had picked up again during the day and the sea breeze blowing in from the bay was cool and refreshing, lifting her hair from around her face. She inhaled deeply. She’d be glad when this ordeal was over. She was longing to get home to Mike and their new home.

  Carol was already seated in a booth when Jessica made her way into the cool, spacious, dimly lit restaurant.

  ‘Hi,’ she said cautiously, not sure of what sort of reception she was going to get as she s
lid into the booth.

  ‘Hi.’ Carol was equally wary. ‘I asked for a booth, it’s more private,’ she said awkwardly.

  ‘Good thinking,’ Jessica murmured as the waiter arrived with menus.

  ‘Drinks, ladies?’

  ‘Pity I’ve got the car. I should have come in on the Dart from Greystones this morning. I wasn’t thinking straight,’ Jessie remarked after she’d ordered a white wine spritzer.

  ‘It’s so handy that you have the Dart option.’ Carol thawed, fiddling with her cutlery.

  ‘I’m sorry about what I said about your mam.’ Jessica bit the bullet.

  ‘It was very hurtful,’ Carol said quietly.

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. It was way out of line,’ Jessica repeated.

  ‘I’m sorry as well. I suppose I said things too,’ her friend acknowledged to Jessica’s relief. For a minute or two it had looked as though the apologies were going to be one-sided.

  ‘Let’s forget it, will we?’ Jessica said warmly. ‘Let’s have a meal and enjoy it, because the next meal we have together will be our wedding feast.’ She grinned.

  ‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?’ Carol murmured. ‘Are you sorted?’

  ‘More or less.’ Jessica sighed. ‘We’d better order, the waiter’s hovering.’

  She ordered the pâté for starters and the shank of lamb for her main course, while Carol went for the fish cakes and Caesar salad.

  ‘So what’s it like living together?’ Carol asked when the waiter had taken their order.

  ‘Great, so far.’ Jessie laughed. ‘We spent all yesterday afternoon in bed. I took a day off to move my stuff. Has Gary moved in with you yet?’

  ‘At the weekend. I’m telling you, Jessie, he’s not going to know what’s hit him once we’re married. I’m going to put the deposit down on a house so fast his head will spin. Would you believe he still wants to go to the Octoberfest! He’s got another think coming . . .’

  Jessica sat back with a little sigh of relief as Carol continued in full flow. Things were back to normal.

  * * *

  Carol let herself into the flats, pleased with the way the evening had gone. Jessie had apologized first, that was the important thing. It had been nice to enjoy a meal with her and she’d been most sympathetic about Gary’s utterly unrealistic and selfish plan to go to the Octoberfest in Munich. It had been just like old times, pouring out her woes and Jessie reassuring her that everything would be fine.

  There were two bills and a letter with vaguely familiar handwriting on the hall stand. She picked them up and let herself into her own flat. She kicked off her shoes, ambled into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk and tore open the envelope. It was a letter from her mother, she saw with surprise, noting the signature. What on earth was Nancy writing to her about?

  Dear Carol,

  I’ve been thinking about us as a family a lot lately and just want you to know that if you would like your father to walk you down the aisle I won’t object. Liz has given me some beautiful books to read which have helped me to change my attitudes a little. Forgiveness is very hard but not impossible. Liz has been so helpful to me and she gave me this beautiful poem which I enclose and think you would like. I hope you like it as much as I did and that it helps you as much as it helped me.

  Your loving Mother x

  The poem was written on a separate page, and as Carol read it, her lips tightened in fury. How dare Liz Kennedy interfere in their family business? How dare she infer that it was up to Carol and Nancy to forgive Bill and give Nancy a smarmy poem about God and forgiveness? She had such a nerve! This was one thing that bossy cow wasn’t going to get away with, Carol fumed, as she tore the poem in strips and shoved it in the bin. Her mother must be mad if she thought for one moment that she’d even consider the idea of Bill walking her up the aisle.

  Liz had interfered once too often in her life. Carol flung the glass into the sink in a temper. She was sick of the Kennedys. Once the wedding was over that was it, they were never going to interfere in her life again.

  Bill,

  I just want you to know that if you want to walk Carol up the aisle next Wednesday that’s entirely up to you and her. I won’t interfere. I’d prefer if you didn’t come to the house. The wedding is at two p.m. in Kilbride church.

  Nancy

  Bill couldn’t believe his eyes as he read the letter that had been top of the pile of post that Brona had left on the hall table for him.

  ‘Anything interesting?’ his partner queried as she tossed a salad to accompany their salmon steaks. She had relented a little in the past week, and things weren’t as tense between them.

  ‘Not really, just bills and charities looking for donations,’ he fibbed, shoving the letter into his pocket. He wasn’t going to risk their fragile peace by even mentioning his other family or the contentious wedding.

  Nancy had offered a huge olive branch, he thought with a rising sense of excitement. Had she discussed it with Carol? She must have to make an offer like that. Could it be possible that his daughter wanted him at the wedding and wanted him to give her away? Should he ring her at work and make the arrangements? he wondered.

  But Carol didn’t like being contacted at work; she’d let him know that in no uncertain terms. Perhaps not. He’d get his best suit cleaned, take a day off work, tell Brona he was going on a golf trip and be at Kilbride church waiting for his eldest daughter.

  Finally, at long, long last, there was light at the end of the tunnel. Everything was going to be just fine, Bill thought happily as he swung Ben up in his arms and started to tickle him.

  The Wedding

  38

  At least the sun was shining, Carol thought sleepily, as she stretched out in the narrow divan that she’d slept in on her last night as a single woman. This small, shabby bedroom of her childhood held no happy memories for her and she hadn’t slept well.

  She didn’t feel very well, either, she thought in dismay. Usually she was as healthy as an ox, but for the past two days she had been feeling queasy and grotty. There was a terrible bug going round at work; what rotten bad luck to have been stricken with it on her wedding day.

  She dragged herself out of bed and stood looking out of the bedroom window. The back garden looked well tended, she noted in surprise. The grass was cut, the flowerbeds were weeded, there was even a bed of Busy Lizzies flowering voluptuously down in the corner where Nancy liked to sit.

  And Nancy . . . it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that her mother was a changed woman. She looked clear-eyed and healthy. Her hands no longer trembled and she had an energy about her that she hadn’t had for years. There was a calmness about her that Carol had never seen in her before. It was as if she had made a decision to let go of the past and was bravely moving on, even if it was with some trepidation. She’d actually had a meal cooked for Carol when she’d arrived home the previous evening, and rather than hurt her feelings, Carol had forced it down even though she didn’t feel a hundred per cent. Gary hadn’t stayed long once they’d unpacked the car. He’d kissed her on the cheek and gone to check into the hotel. He still had to face Nadine after letting her down about her night out and wasn’t particularly anxious to hang around.

  She, Jessica and Mike had gone to the hotel later, sorted the seating arrangements and met him for a drink in the bar. It had been a relaxing end to a stressful week. She and Jessie were agreed that there was nothing more they could do, so they might as well enjoy themselves. She hadn’t said much to Mike. In fact she’d been quite cool with him. His confrontation with her still rankled.

  ‘Mam’s made tea and toast if you want some.’ Nadine poked her head around the door. ‘God, you look rough,’ she declared. ‘Were you on the sauce last night?’

  ‘No, I wasn’t,’ Carol exclaimed indignantly. ‘I only had soda water. I think I’ve got some sort of a bug or something.’

  ‘Better a bug than a bun.’ Nadine grinned.

  ‘A bun! What sort of a bun?’
Carol looked at her younger sister, perplexed, wondering what she was wittering on about.

  ‘In the oven. A bun in the oven. Duh!’ Nadine explained patiently.

  Carol felt she had been hit by a sledgehammer. Pregnant! She couldn’t possibly be pregnant. Could she? She sat on the bed in shock.

  ‘Hey, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. I was only joking,’ Nadine said, exasperated.

  Carol licked her lips. That night when she’d had sex with Gary after the row in Kilkenny he’d wanted to make love a second time. They’d used the only condom he had the first time, and even though he’d withdrawn she’d felt instinctively that he hadn’t pulled out soon enough. With all the trauma of Mike’s outburst and then the disastrous phone call to Sean, as well as the frantic toing and froing of the past week, she’d forgotten about it, until Nadine had made her most unfunny joke.

  There were two scenarios to deal with, she reasoned. Either she had a bug or she was pregnant. If she had a bug she could take Imodium to sort out her tummy. If she was pregnant, there was nothing she could do about it. She needed to know . . . and fast.

  ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ Nadine faltered when she saw the expression on Carol’s face.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Carol’s mouth was so dry she could hardly talk.

  ‘Aren’t you on the pill?’ Nadine asked, aghast. ‘I am.’

  ‘What!’ Carol was shocked.

  ‘Look, Carol, I don’t sleep around but when you’re pissed things happen. I’ve slept with Mono.’

  ‘Oh, Nadine, you’re so young!’ Carol exclaimed, dismayed.

  ‘But I’m not pregnant,’ Nadine retorted drily.

  ‘Would you do me a favour?’ Carol said shakily. ‘Would you get me a packet of Imodium and a pregnancy test kit from the chemist?’

  ‘I’ll go to one down the town. I don’t want that one up the road gossiping about me getting a pregnancy tester to all her cronies.’