Foreign Affairs (70 page)

Chapter Sixty-Five

‘Do you intend giving up work once you’re married?’ Mr Stapleton queried, as he passed Jennifer a plate of scones.

‘No, I don’t think so. I like my job, and two salaries will help pay the mortgage,’ Jennifer said. Talk about the Spanish inquisition, she thought to herself. Her father-in-law
to be hadn’t stopped quizzing her since she sat down to tea. Ronan was in the kitchen making another pot of tea. Rachel sat silently at the other end of the table.

‘I wouldn’t have liked my poor dear departed wife to have had to work, once we married. Call me old-fashioned, if you will, but I like the idea of a man providing for his
wife.’ William gave a tight little smile.

‘I like the idea of being able to contribute to buying our house and to sharing in its upkeep. I like the idea of being Ronan’s partner. Whatever we do, it will be a partnership.
And, as I say, I like my job,’ Jennifer said firmly.

‘Oh, you’re one of these feminist independent career types we hear so much about.’ William pretended to be amused. ‘Ronan told me you lived in Spain. Didn’t your
parents mind you being in a foreign country by yourself?’ His comment and tone implied that Kit and Jim were negligent parents. I’ve had enough of you, Buster! Jennifer decided.

‘Not at all,’ she said lightly. ‘My parents felt it was a great opportunity for me to travel and learn about other cultures. They were always very anxious for us to stand on
our own two feet and be independent. They’re not the clingy sort, thank goodness.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘They want us all to live our own lives. They don’t expect us to dance
attendance on them. You know, like some parents who never let their children grow up,’ she added pointedly.

William pursed his lips. ‘I see,’ he said curtly. Rachel smiled at Jennifer.

‘Your parents seem to be very sensible people,’ she said demurely.

‘Oh, they are,’ Jennifer said. ‘My mother said you must come to dinner some Friday and stay the night, and not go rushing back to Rathbarry. You could come househunting with
Ronan and me some Saturday. It will give you an idea if you ever look for a place of your own.’

‘I’d like that,’ Rachel agreed enthusiastically, ignoring her father’s cold stare.

‘You’d like what?’ Ronan arrived in with the teapot.

‘I’ve asked Rachel to stay some Friday night. She can come house-hunting with us. It will be good experience for her if she ever decides to buy her own house.’ Jennifer knew Mr
Stapleton was seething but she didn’t care. He was a horrible man and he needn’t think he was going to get away with trying to slag off her parents.

‘Great idea,’ Ronan approved, giving Jennifer a tiny wink. He knew exactly what she was up to.

William couldn’t take any more. ‘There’ll be no need for Rachel ever to get a house of her own. She’ll always have a home here.’

‘Oh yes, I know that,’ Jennifer gushed. ‘But you know us career women these days. We love our independence.’

‘Mmmm . . . That’s all very well,’ William said disdainfully. ‘But I see the result of this sort of thinking and how it affects children I teach. Children whose mothers
aren’t content and want to go out working and be . . .’ he paused and gave Jennifer a supercilious look, ‘“independent.” As a result we have these so-called
“latchkey kids.” I think society will suffer because of it.’

‘Maybe, economically, these women have no choice,’ Jennifer argued politely.

‘Nonsense.’ William made his favourite retort.

‘Jennifer has a very good point there,’ Ronan said sternly. ‘We were looking at houses today and if she wasn’t working, we wouldn’t be able to get a mortgage. And
when we do get one we won’t be able to manage unless she works. That’s not nonsense, Dad. That’s a fact of life, unfortunately.’

‘Well I suppose if you’re going to live in a palace . . .’ William sniffed. ‘There are some nice cottages down by tenacres that you’d be able to afford.’

‘We have to work in town, Dad. Commuting isn’t on. Apart from the inconvenience, it’s expensive.’

So stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Jennifer thought. If she never saw Mr Stapleton again she wouldn’t care. When you married someone you took on their family as well. The thought of
having Mr Stapleton as her father-in-law did not make her ecstatically happy. Having met him for the first time she found him cold, superior, arrogant and narrow-minded. Grandpa Myles was saintly
in comparison. For Ronan’s sake, of course, she would tolerate his father. But she didn’t have to like him and she wouldn’t let him treat her in the dismissive rude way he treated
Rachel. And she certainly wouldn’t let William Stapleton interfere in her marriage. If he tried it, he’d soon realize his mistake, Jennifer resolved as she lay in bed that night
thinking over the events of the day.

Chapter Sixty-Six

‘Paula, I’m ringing from the hospital. Helen’s started the baby.’ Nick sounded agitated.

‘I’m on my way,’ she said, coming instantly awake. A glance at her alarm clock showed her that it was just gone three-thirty a.m. She dressed quickly and let herself out of the
flat. She’d moved in over two months ago, but she’d been so busy that half her stuff was still in boxes. Soon, she promised herself. Soon, she and Beth and Jenny would organize it. It
was a nice roomy flat on the first floor in a double-fronted redbrick house on Griffith Avenue. It was self-contained, and she was pleased enough with it. Not that she spent much time there, she
thought wryly as she unlocked her newly acquired Corolla and sped off down Griffith Avenue. The roads were deserted and the traffic lights at the junction opposite the Garda Station were green.
Minutes later, she was passing the Skylon, and the Bishop’s Palace.

‘Let me see, Holies Street,’ she muttered to herself, planning her route in her head. The best plan was to go via the Five Lamps, down along the quays and turn right at the road
before the road for the gasometer. As far as she could remember that road led directly to the hospital. It took her about five minutes to get to the quays. The moon shone on the glassy river. On
the opposite quay the Isle of Man ferry,
The Lady of Man
, floated serenely at anchor in her berth. TransCon did an Isle of Man package holiday brochure, maybe she should look into the
villa holiday idea there, Paula reflected. ‘Forget work,’ she muttered as the huge bulk of the gasometer loomed into view. She peered anxiously to her right looking for Lime Street. She
almost overshot and had to jam on the brakes.

Was this the right road? It was eerily quiet, she thought as she drove past silent dark blocks of flats. In the distance she saw the façade of the hospital. Spot-on, Paula thought with
satisfaction. She saw Nick’s Volvo, and parked behind it. The porter rang upstairs to tell Nick she had arrived and minutes later he walked through the swing doors, looking tired and
worried.

‘Paula, thanks for coming,’ he hugged her. ‘She’s having a very difficult time. They’re concerned. They might have to do a Caesarean. If anything happens to Helen
I’ll never forgive myself. She’s too old to have a first baby.’ He rubbed his hand along his jaw.

‘Stop it, Nick. She’ll be fine. She’s in the best place. There’s expert care and all the equipment. Stop worrying,’ Paula said sternly. ‘Go back up to her.
I’ll be down here.’

‘You’re the best in the world, Paula, you should have seen Helen’s face when I told her you were downstairs.’ Nick smiled.

‘Tell her we’re all in this together and to hurry on, the suspense is killing me,’ Paula ordered. ‘If you hear anything let me know.’

‘I’ll be up and down,’ Nick promised. ‘I’m not allowed to stay while they’re examining her.’

It was a long night. Nick looked more haggard and worried each time he came down to her. If he looked this bad, God help Helen, Paula thought in dismay. She could hardly imagine what her aunt
was going through. The wait seemed interminable. Every time the doors swung open her heart leapt, as she hoped it was Nick with good news. Each time he made an appearance she knew by the expression
on his face that the ordeal was not over. He urged her to go home and go to bed. She refused.

The dark night gave way to a golden sunrise. Paula watched the pink-tinted sky through the window and heard the sound of a milkman’s lorry with its clattering jangle of bottles. At
seven-thirty, Nick appeared briefly to tell her that Helen was having a Caesarean. At least something was being done, Paula reassured him. Helen’s ordeal would soon be over. An hour later he
appeared again, his face wreathed in smiles.

‘It’s a little girl,’ he exclaimed. ‘We’ve got a little girl. She’s beautiful. The two of them are fine, now.’ Paula burst into tears.

‘It’s all right, Paula. It’s over.’ Nick hugged her tightly.

‘I’m so happy for Helen.’ She sobbed against his shoulder. ‘I’m really glad it’s a little girl. I know she was dying for one.’

‘Me too,’ Nick murmured against her hair. ‘Me too. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’m a father.’

‘You’ll be a great father.’ Paula wiped her cheeks, and rooted for a handkerchief.

‘Here,’ he said, offering his. ‘I begged the nurses to let you come up and see them and they said you could come for a minute. Helen’s a bit groggy.’

‘Oh Nick.’ She started to blubber again.

‘Stop it or I’ll be crying too,’ he said, taking her by the hand. Holding his hand gave her a moment of happiness.

‘Only for a minute, mind,’ the nurse said.

Helen lay propped against her pillows. Her face was grey, her eyes were bloodshot but she smiled radiantly when she saw Nick and Paula.

‘Look, darling,’ she murmured as Paula bent to kiss her. ‘Isn’t she beautiful? I’m the happiest person alive.’ Paula’s eyes brimmed again as she saw the
tiny baby nestled in Helen’s arms. She stared in awe at the perfect little face with the rosebud mouth and the little nose. Her skin wasn’t red and wrinkled because she hadn’t had
a normal birth. She’d just been lifted out of the womb. She had a little head of black hair but when she opened her eyes and stared up, Paula knew she would have eyes like her
father’s.

‘She’s exquisite, Helen. She’s beautiful. Congratulations.’

‘Darling, you’ve been so good to me. I’ll never be able to repay you,’ Helen said gratefully, her own eyes sparkling with tears. ‘We’re going to call her
Nicola Paula. Will you be her godmother?’

‘Of course I will, Helen. Now get your rest and I’ll see you later,’ Paula urged, as the nurse appeared, ready to evict her. ‘I’ll phone Mam and let her know the
news.’

‘Thanks, pet.’ Helen squeezed her hand.

‘I’ll see you later, Nick,’ Paula said. ‘If you need anything doing, let me know.’

‘Sure, thanks.’ Nick hugged her again, but his eyes were on Helen and their baby. Paula slipped away to let them share their joyful intimate moments.

She was right into the rush hour traffic so she decided not to go back home. She could have a shower and breakfast at the office. There was no point in going back to bed, she just wouldn’t
sleep. Her mind was racing. Her emotions in turmoil. Helen, Nick and the baby were a family now. She felt such a mixture of emotions when she saw the baby. Happiness for Helen, sadness for herself.
The pride and love in Nick’s eyes as he looked at Helen were painful for her to watch. She hated herself for feeling as she did. She felt mean. She wanted to be happy for Helen. If only
she’d fallen in love with another man.

Paula sighed as she swung on to Pearse Street. Life was full of ‘if only’s.’ There was nothing she could do except grit her teeth and get on with it. At least she had her job
to keep her going. She’d been out to Majorca and the Costa viewing villas. She was going out again the following week to make a final selection and to get them photographed. After that,
Portugal. Life was hectic and that was just what she needed.

Six weeks later, Paula stood in church holding her precious goddaughter. Her tiny little fingers curled tightly around Paula’s thumb. She was fast asleep. She hadn’t made a sound all
through her christening ceremony. Paula gazed in wonder at her perfect little features. Her eyelashes were so long. Her little nose was adorable. Her mouth, the prettiest one Paula had ever
seen.

‘My little precious,’ she crooned.

Helen came and stood beside her and gazed proudly at her daughter. ‘Isn’t she the best baby?’

‘Yeah.’ Paula smiled, bending her lips to Nicola’s cheek. ‘She’s the best baby in the world.’

‘And you’re the best niece.’ Helen slipped an arm around Paula’s waist and hugged her.

Don’t say that, Paula wanted to cry. She’d spent the morning trying not to think of how attractive Nick looked. And how blue his eyes were and how kind he was being to Helen.
She’d watched them together cooing to the baby and hated them for their happiness. Then she’d hated herself for that and spent the rest of the morning telling herself that she was a
disloyal bitch for having these thoughts.

Forget him, she told herself over and over again. But how could she forget him when her life was so closely entwined with his? She couldn’t stop visiting Helen and the baby or being part
of their lives. Helen would be devastated if she did. She wouldn’t understand at all. And why should she? Helen had no idea that her beloved niece loved and lusted after her partner and
father of her child. Nick didn’t even know it. The only person who knew was Jenny. She had to tell someone. And she was closer to Jenny than anyone.

Jenny offered to come and spend the christening night with her. She knew today would be an ordeal. She knew Paula wanted to get it off her chest. Tonight, Paula promised herself, was the last
night she would talk or think about Nick. That was the end of it now, she decided as she stood watching him chatting and laughing with Maura and Pete. The best way of forgetting Nick was to find
another man to fall in love with. Instead of staying in, moping. She’d ask Jenny to go out on the town with her. The city was full of eligible bachelors, she’d have no trouble finding a
man.

But I don’t want a man. I only want Nick, her inner voice said.

Well you can’t have him, so tough bloody luck, she argued back. Get off your ass and cop on to yourself, Paula Matthews, or you’re going to be miserable for the rest of your life.
It’s entirely up to you.