City Woman (63 page)

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Authors: Patricia Scanlan

BOOK: City Woman
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She dried herself and smoothed Johnson’s Baby Lotion on her silky skin. After the wedding was over she would really focus her mind on buying a place for herself. She was renting an
apartment on the old Ballymun Road and while it suited her for the time being, especially while she was busy getting to grips with her new job in City Girl, she wanted a place of her own.

She was really enjoying the job. Having done the stint in Belfast and with her six months’ experience in Abu Dhabi, she was confident that she could do the job of administrator. It
certainly made up for her sadness at leaving Abu Dhabi and all the friends she had made there. After the holiday of a lifetime with Féile and the gang, she had come back to Abu Dhabi and
faced the marathon task of packing all she had bought there, as well as what she had originally brought with her. With her silk paintings, her Chinese screens and Oriental rugs, Caroline was dying
to have a place of her own to decorate.

Bill had thrown a hooley for her the night before she left and Nell, who had by then arrived back, minus her bunions, said, with satisfaction, ‘Well, it’s obvious you settled in and
made plenty of friends. I knew you’d have a ball.’ In true Abu Dhabi style, it had ended with dancing on the tables and then she had been presented with the most exquisite gold charm
bracelet that had taken her breath away, and a card signed by everyone she knew. Caroline was so touched that she cried, and she cried again at the airport when she said goodbye to Bill and Nell
and Féile and Pat and Mike, who had all come to see her off. They were friends she would have for ever and there was an open invitation for her to come on holiday whenever she wished.
Caroline knew it was an offer she would be availing of.

Devlin and Maggie had met her at the airport, and Devlin was bubbling with excitement as she told Caroline of her wedding plans. When she asked her to work at City Girl, Caroline couldn’t
believe it.

‘Well, believe it – it’s true,’ Caroline hummed gaily as she let herself out of her apartment. She’d better get a move on, she reflected, as she got into her
brand-new Honda Civic and headed in the direction of Foxrock.

He really didn’t want to go to the wedding. Devlin had never been one of his favourite people and she had asked him to go only because of Caroline, Richard thought
glumly, as he drank his early-morning coffee and stared out over Bullock Harbour. He had bought a penthouse there, as he liked the view very much. It was lonely being on his own. He had hoped that
when Caroline came back from Abu Dhabi she might consider moving back in with him. Just because they were getting an annulment and divorce didn’t mean they couldn’t live together like
flatmates. He was surprised when she had refused his offer. In fact, he had been totally surprised by the Caroline who had met him several days after her arrival home from the Levant.

She was glowing and healthy, full of self-confidence and much more outgoing. It was hard for Richard to accept that this together woman was the same timid, shy, insecure girl he had married. He
was glad for her. He envied her. And if he was absolutely truthful, he resented the fact that she no longer seemed to need him at all. That was hard to bear. Still, he would have to get over
it.

Charles would not be pleased if he saw him moping around. But he missed his companion so much. They had grown closer than Richard had ever believed possible. There were no emotional barriers of
any sort between them by the time Charles died and those empty months after his death had been the most traumatic period of his life.

His mother had urged him to come and live with her. ‘Now we can get back to normal,’ she said. ‘That Caroline is in foreign places and won’t be back to trouble us. Some
day you’ll find the wife you deserve.’

‘Mother,’ he said quietly, ‘I’ve told you. I’m homosexual. I’m not interested in finding another wife.’ Charles had urged him to be proud of what he
was. Well, he wasn’t going to go shouting it from the rooftops; he’d never be able to do that. But he was never going to deny himself again, he swore.

Sarah had been furious and disgusted and told him that until he stopped talking in that dreadful manner, she wanted nothing more to do with him.

‘That’s entirely up to you, Mother,’ Richard replied calmly and walked out of the large red-brick Victorian house that had always been a prison to him. Sarah hadn’t
spoken to him since then; his secretary acted as go-between on business matters. Richard didn’t care any longer. He’d been loved unconditionally by the one person who mattered, and if
people couldn’t take him as he was, that was their problem. He was lonely, though. He had been out of the social scene in Dublin for so long it was hard to get back in to it. Maybe he would
go to the wedding after all. He didn’t need to spend much time with Devlin; he would just kiss the bride and wish her luck. But he liked Terry, Maggie’s husband, and he’d enjoy
being with Caroline for the day.

Yes, he’d go to the wedding and enjoy himself. Charles would want that.

‘I want to make a new will,’ Sarah Yates instructed the solicitor seated at the desk in front of her. ‘I want to leave every single penny I possess to the
Church.’

‘Come on, Mimi. Eat up your breakfast or we’ll be late,’ Maggie urged her elder daughter as she fed Shona her cornflakes.

‘I can feed mine own self,’ Shona protested. ‘I’m a big girl.’

‘I know . . . I know,’ soothed her mother, catching a dribble of milk expertly with the spoon. ‘But we’ve got to hurry up to get to the hairdresser because you’re
going to get lovely flowers in your hair for the wedding.’

‘I’d say I’ll look like a pwincess,’ Mimi said dreamily, as she tried to follow a puzzle on the back of the cornflakes packet.

‘I’d say so too. Now, hurry upstairs and get your pyjamas off so I can give you a quick bath.’

‘I’ve had mine, Mammy.’ Michael appeared at the kitchen door, wrapped in a towel. ‘Daddy gave it to me.’

Thank you, Terry, Maggie thought approvingly. ‘Good boy, just get into your clean T-shirt and shorts and then we’ll all be changing our clothes over at Auntie
Devlin’s.’

‘Being a pageboy is very important, isn’t it?’ he asked solemnly.

‘Oh very,’ she assured him. ‘That’s why Auntie Devlin picked you – because she knew she could depend on you. Now, run up and get dressed so that we won’t be
late.’

‘OK, Mammy.’

With a glad heart, Maggie watched her little son trip jauntily out of the room. She had been so worried about his behaviour the previous year. Of course it had happened because of her and
Terry’s separation; Michael idolized his father.

Absentmindedly, Maggie ate what was left of Shona’s cornflakes. Devlin was getting married today and she had such expectations. Maggie had once been a bride like that, and then it had all
gone wrong. Now she expected nothing, so anything she got was a bonus.

To be fair, Terry was a much better husband and partner since his return. When she asked him to come home on the night of the launch, he had agreed with alacrity, and, she suspected, with
relief. She had been so busy on the publicity trail that she hadn’t had a minute to talk to him for the next couple of weeks, but he had taken time off work and looked after the children
– she had to give him his due.

They had sat down one night and thrashed everything out, absolutely everything. That had been a very healing experience. She told him of her resentment and her unhappiness at his attitude to her
career and his treatment of her, and he, in turn, told her how he felt. It had not been pleasant but each had come from the encounter with a new respect for the other’s feelings, and they
were united in the conviction that getting back together was the best thing for their children. The change in the youngsters had been miraculous. Mimi had reverted to her old, cheery, impudent self
and Michael had eventually stopped bedwetting and was losing his tendency to cling to his father every second. Shona, who was a bit young to understand, seemed to have suffered least.

All in all, Maggie decided, the best thing to do was to be positive. Her novel was selling very well and she had got terrific media coverage. She was frequently asked to address writers’
groups or to attend launches and promotions. All this was new and exciting for her. The back-up from her publishers had been wonderful and they were now cosseting her through the rewrites of her
second novel.
A Time to Decide
was due out in the autumn.

Maggie now employed Josie on a daily basis. The income from her writing gave her freedom, so that she was able to write every day in peace and without feeling guilty, knowing that the children
and the house were not being neglected and that there would be an evening meal on the table for Terry. The pressure to meet her deadline was enough, without feeling guilty as well.

Terry and she still slept in separate rooms. She supposed the time would come when they would sleep together again. Maggie wasn’t crazy about leading a celibate life, and she knew that
Terry definitely wasn’t, either, and there were times she longed for a nice kiss and a cuddle. She missed the intimacy of her marriage. Maybe it would return in time. It was best to let
things take their course, she decided, as Mimi appeared at the kitchen door covered from head to toe in talc. She was accompanied by Shona, wide-eyed as she tried to explain to her mother that what
had happened to her elder sister was an accident.

‘I was trying to make myself smell nice for the wedding and it all came out ’cos the top came off,’ the little girl sobbed.

‘Don’t cry, Mimi, I lub you.’ Shona embraced her sister and was herself enveloped in a cloud of talc.

Maggie hugged her elder daughter tightly. ‘It’s all right, love. I’ll give you a bath now and fix you up. Sure it was an accident. Not to worry.’

‘Not to worry,’ said Little Sir Echo comfortingly at her side and Maggie smiled down into Shona’s big blue eyes.

‘Come on,’ she said, ‘we’ll all have a bath and get ourselves ready for Auntie Devlin’s wedding.’ Squeals of pleasure greeted this pronouncement as Maggie led
the way upstairs.

What on
earth
had Mimi been doing? Terry stared in horror at the floor of her bedroom. He had heard her running, crying, downstairs to Maggie, and come out to see what
the problem was. All he had to do was follow the trail of little white footprints. There was talcum powder all over the place. Maggie would freak. He got down on his hands and knees and scooped
back as much as he could into the round container.

Michael appeared at his side. ‘Women!’ he said conspiratorially, rolling his eyes dramatically. ‘The mess they make.’

Terry had to laugh. ‘You can say that again, son,’ he replied, as he went downstairs to get the hoover.

He wondered what the wedding would be like today. He was glad for Devlin. He liked and admired his wife’s best friend and another thing that he appreciated about her was the way she had
not stopped talking to him when their marriage was in trouble. She hadn’t taken sides, although naturally she had been very supportive of Maggie. He hoped her own marriage would be a happy
one, because, when all was said and done, there was nothing to beat a happy marriage.

His had been happy until he’d had an affair with Ria, and for that he took full responsibility. Then the tit-for-tat started, Maggie with Adam, him going back to Ria. It had made neither
of them happy. Living alone in that mews had been the very worst time of his life. He missed his kids so badly. He hated looking after himself and wondering what to have for his dinner and, more
than anything, he hated being in that house on his own, especially late at night. The loneliness of it had nearly killed him, and when he thought of all he had given up – his home, his
children and his good wife – he cursed aloud. Because Maggie
had
been a good wife, even when she was writing that book of hers. The children always came first. The house was clean,
if sometimes untidy because of the children – he could never fault her for that. This new arrangement of hers with Josie was working well. It was great that her royalties allowed her to pay
Josie, and more power to her. He hadn’t realized what a big thing this writing career was going to be and it gave him a great thrill when people asked him if he was married to the novelist
Maggie Ryan.

He’d been glad, so glad when she’d asked him to come home, and although their relationship was different from before, it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, they had great fun at
times, especially with the kids. He was dying to see how they performed at the wedding today. They were lovely children and he felt that he and Maggie were making a good job of rearing them, and
that was the important thing.

Maybe the ceremony would bring back memories of their own wedding and the fun they had. Maybe they’d get back together as man and wife in the biblical sense tonight, he thought, ever the
optimist. Whistling cheerfully, Terry hoovered up the mess his adored daughter had created. He could hear shrieks emanating from the bathroom where the three females of the house were bathing.

‘Women! The racket they make!’ Michael raised his eyes to heaven again, as he arrived to give his father a hand.

Terry smiled at the apple of his eye. ‘We men just have to stick together, don’t we, son?’

‘You can say that again,’ Michael replied fervently, giving his dad a dig in the ribs. ‘Come on, Dad, put your dukes up. Let’s make as much noise as them,’ he
yelled. He roared laughing as Terry picked him up in his arms and started to tickle him.

‘Here she comes,’ Caroline exclaimed, as the gleaming white Rolls-Royce drove majestically up to the church.

‘Oh Mammy! Oh look!’ Mimi was beside herself with excitement as she danced up and down.

‘Mammy, just tell me again. I walk
behind
Mimi and Shona?’

‘That’s right, Michael. And Auntie Caroline and I walk behind you.’ The three children looked so beautiful, Michael in his suit and the girls in their matching
apple-green-and-white-patterned dresses, white shoes and socks and carrying baskets of roses. Caroline and she wore raw silk, apple-green, off-the-shoulder gowns, with yards of skirt billowing in
the breeze.

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