Foreign Affairs (72 page)

Brenda lay back on her lounger and let the slanting rays of the evening sun brown her oiled limbs. She spent a very pleasant hour imagining herself with a fantastic tan, arm in arm with Shay,
bumping into Paula, whose jaw would drop at the stunning sight in front of her and whose eyes would glitter with ill-concealed envy at the sight of the wide gold wedding ring on Brenda’s left
hand. It was a nice little fantasy. It made her feel good, she thought drowsily before she fell into a light doze.

A shriek from the balcony jerked her to wakefulness. Shay was frantically waving his book at some insect that was attacking him. Brenda felt a stab of irritation. Could she not even relax on her
lounger for half an hour without some drama to disturb her?

‘It’s the last time I’m coming on a sun holiday, Bren,’ he scowled as she went to his assistance. ‘This place is full of wild animals. And the heat is killing
me.’

‘Go and sit in a cold bath for a while,’ she said unsympathetically. She’d been listening to his moans for the last eleven days. It was taking all the good out of the
honeymoon. ‘And don’t forget it’s the Mr & Mrs competition tonight. I’ve entered our names.’

‘Oh, Brenda! Do we have to? I hate things like that,’ Shay protested.

‘Ah come on, Shay, stop being such a party-pooper. It will be great fun.’ She tried to keep the irritation out of her tone. Honestly, Shay was such a stick-in-the-mud sometimes.

‘It’s not my scene, Bren, you know that,’ Shay muttered.

‘Is
anything
your scene?’ she asked sarcastically.

‘It was your idea to come here, not mine,’ Shay argued. ‘It was all arranged before I knew anything about it.’

Brenda could not deny the fact. She had arranged the honeymoon to suit herself and had assumed that Shay would be delighted with her plans. She didn’t want to fight with him. It would
spoil things. It was hard to keep civil though because he was very tetchy. The heat was really getting to him.

‘Ah, poor Shay.’ Brenda leaned over and kissed the tip of his sunburned nose. ‘Next year we’ll go to Siberia, that should suit you perfectly. No sun and no
people.’

He laughed. ‘I’m not that bad,’ he retorted. ‘We’ll go to your Mr & Mrs thing if it makes you happy.’

‘You make me happy,’ Brenda murmured sexily, putting her arms around him and nuzzling his ear.

‘This is much nicer than turning to a cinder in the sun and taking part in daft competitions.’ Shay stroked his hands along the smoothness of her bronzed back and started to kiss
her. The evening shadows deepened and the light turned to dusk bathing the room in an amber glow as Brenda and Shay made passionate love on the sofa.

Later in the bathroom, as Brenda prepared for her night on the town, she opened her toilet bag to get out her deodorant. A full packet of the pill lay at the bottom of the bag, untouched. Shay
would have a fit if he knew she wasn’t taking them. Brenda felt no guilt at her deception. She wouldn’t be taking them again for a while. The sooner she got pregnant the better, as far
as she was concerned. The agreement was that she would leave work after her maternity leave. Shay presumed that she wouldn’t want to get pregnant immediately. He didn’t know that Brenda
had no desire to be bossed around by Bugs Bunny Powers one minute more than she had to.

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bright, her hair was getting nice tints, because she sat on the balcony in the evenings with lemon juice in it. She had the best tan
ever. And maybe, right now, she was pregnant already. Bubbles of anticipation fizzled through her. It would be wonderful having a baby. Kathy and she could have coffee mornings and watch their
toddlers play happily. It would be nice strolling down to the shops or around Johnstown Park pushing her pram. All the neighbours would peer in and congratulate her on her son or daughter. It was
marvellous that she’d got a house so near home too. Maybe she should have looked at a few more, as Shay had advised, but the one up near the terminus had come on the market and she’d
jumped at it and persuaded him to buy it.

It had a good back garden for children to play in. That was one of the arguments she’d used.

‘We won’t be having children for a while. We don’t have to rush anything. I think we should see the new ones out in Swords,’ he’d suggested.

‘Swords is miles out,’ Brenda protested. The trouble with Shay was that he kept putting things on the long finger. If it wasn’t for her they’d never have had a house, and
if it wasn’t for her, they’d probably be forty before she got pregnant. Just as well that she was able to persuade him to her way of thinking most times. She’d got her house with
the big back garden. And if things went to plan maybe a child would be playing in it sooner than he thought, Brenda reflected happily as she applied some grey eyeliner to her lower eyelid. If all
went as she hoped there’d be a baby in the house for Christmas.

Chapter Sixty-Nine

‘Oh hell!’ Jennifer cursed.

‘What’s up?’ Ronan poked his head around the sitting-room door.

‘They’ve painted over the wallpaper underneath the first layer. It’s going to be almost impossible to strip. I’m sick of this.’

‘Well if you will insist on buying an old house with character,’ Ronan said in an ‘I told you so’ tone of voice.

Jennifer threw her damp sponge at him. He picked it up, dipped it in the bucket of water and waved it menacingly as he advanced towards her. Jennifer shrieked and took to her heels.

‘Don’t you dare,’ she warned.

‘Too late,’ Ronan taunted as he chased her upstairs.

‘Ronan. Stop. Stop,’ Jennifer screeched as he caught her and gently began to squeeze the sponge.

‘What’s it worth?’ he demanded.

‘I might give you a kiss,’ she giggled.

‘Not enough.’ Ronan squeezed again and a trickle of water ran down the side of her face.

‘It’s all you’re going to get,’ she teased.

‘I don’t want your kisses, woman. I want half that Crunchie you have in your jacket pocket.’

‘That’s not fair! You ate yours. You couldn’t wait until we were having a cup of tea. You’re always the same,’ Jennifer protested.

‘I offered you a bite.’ Ronan shook the sponge threateningly.

‘Big deal!’ snorted Jennifer. ‘You’re looking for
half
of mine.’

‘This is the woman who’s going to share all my worldly goods, and she won’t even give me half a measly Crunchie.’

‘I’ll give you a bite when we have our tea if you behave yourself,’ Jennifer said.

‘I don’t want to behave myself.’ Ronan dropped the sponge and started to kiss her. Jennifer wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back passionately. They kissed and
caressed, lying on the bare floorboards of the back bedroom. Since they’d had to postpone their wedding, because of Brenda’s nuptials, they’d discussed sleeping together. Although
she wanted very much to sleep with Ronan, Jennifer knew all the good would be taken out of it afterwards because she’d feel guilty. Ronan knew and understood this and he never put pressure on
her. He wanted their first time to be a happy momentous occasion for them. He didn’t want it to be ruined for Jennifer. But it was difficult. They were young and healthy and in love and now
they had to wait far longer than they’d planned.

A knock on the front door interrupted their passion.

‘Who the hell is this?’ Ronan muttered, fixing his clothes. Jennifer fastened the buttons on the old shirt she was wearing and pulled up the zip of her jeans.

‘Want to buy a line, Mista?’ A young lad of about ten stood at the door with a card and pen.

‘No!’ growled Ronan.

‘What’s it for?’ Jennifer asked, noting the boy’s crestfallen look.

‘It’s for the school, Missus. De furst prize is five hundred pounds. Second, a TV. An’ third’s a bottle of whiskey,’ he said hopefully.

‘How much?’ she asked.

‘Fifty pence, Missus.’

‘All right, we’ll have two then,’ Jennifer said, ignoring Ronan’s deep sighs. She filled out their names on the sheet and rooted in her bag for a pound.

‘Here.’ Ronan took one from the pocket of his jeans and handed it to the young collector. ‘We’d better win,’ he said.

‘I hope ya do, Mista,’ he said cheerfully, pocketing the money. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re as soft, Jenny Myles. I can see we’re going to end up in
Stubbs Gazette
the way you’re going on,’ Ronan declared.

‘Ah, did you see the little face of him, Ronan? He was thrilled with himself when he sold two lines. And we might win,’ she smiled, hugging her boyfriend. ‘Come on, we’ll
have a cup of tea and I’ll share my Crunchie and then we’ll get back to work.’

They sat on two upturned boxes in the kitchen, drinking tea and eating chocolate. It was a small kitchen. The house itself was small, a two-up, two-down, redbrick house in Drumcondra.
They’d decided, after much discussion, to go for a small house first. They had also decided not to have children in the first few years of their marriage, until Ronan got himself established
in his career. He was working in a computer firm, developing programs for software. It would lead to greater things, he assured Jennifer.

She was now Kieran Donnelly’s secretary. Helen had gone on maternity leave and decided she wasn’t going to continue working after the birth of the baby so Kieran paid for Jennifer to
do an intensive word-processing course and then a short secretarial course before Helen left. Jennifer had worked in the office with Helen for a few weeks before Helen left and now she enjoyed
organizing Kieran and his office.

He was good to work for. He let her make decisions and use her initiative. He wasn’t always breathing down her neck. She missed being abroad sometimes. But she was far happier to be at
home with Ronan than gadding about the continent like Paula. Jennifer knew she was lucky to get the office job. It suited her, just as Paula’s challenging new career suited her. If it
wasn’t for Brenda and her wedding everything would have been perfect.

She’d been shocked when Brenda had breezed in and announced she was engaged and that she was getting married early the following year. Jennifer and Ronan had tentatively decided to wed
that May but hadn’t said anything much about it until they were sure their plans would work out. Jennifer had mentioned it casually in conversation with Brenda. That was why she felt terribly
hurt that her sister had made her own arrangements with a callous disregard for her and Ronan’s plans. Brenda hadn’t even the decency to discuss it with her. Even if she’d said do
you mind, Jennifer wouldn’t have felt as bad. But Brenda just steamrolled ahead. She was getting married in February and that was that.

Kit wouldn’t object to another wedding that same year, she assured Jennifer. But Jennifer demurred. She knew it was an expensive time, even if she and Ronan paid for their own wedding. A
wedding was a hectic time, especially for the bride’s mother, and Kit would have been exhausted after two weddings in quick succession. There was nothing to do but grin and bear it. But it
was hard, especially when Brenda waltzed in after her honeymoon, tanned and glowing and full of the joys of spring, and said Tenerife was OK, but she preferred Spain. After all the trouble Jennifer
had gone to. She’d made sure that there was a basket of fruit and a bottle of champagne in the apartment when they arrived. And she’d booked the best apartment for them. Brenda might
have preferred Spain, but she could have kept it to herself.

Talk about gratitude! Ronan went red in the face when he heard this and there’d have been a row, except that Jennifer kicked him in the shins. Ronan often said that Brenda took Jennifer
for granted and it annoyed him very much. There were times when she’d say or do something and he’d be dying to have a go at her. He would have let Brenda have a piece of his mind except
that he knew it would upset Jennifer, who hated rows of any sort.

Ronan was furious when he heard about Brenda’s wedding plans. Jennifer had a terrible job persuading him not to say something that would cause a row. She couldn’t blame him. She was
mad herself. But if a quarrel started who knew where it would end and things that were said in the heat of anger could never be unsaid.

Ronan was always cool towards Brenda now. They’d been invited to dinner in Brenda and Shay’s new house a week ago. Brenda made a spaghetti bolognese and served a side salad and
garlic bread. It was very tasty and they all enjoyed it. But then she’d turned around after dinner and told Jennifer to make the coffee because she’d been killing herself all afternoon
preparing and cooking the meal.

‘Sure,’ Jennifer agreed. ‘Go in and sit down, I’ll bring it in to you.’ Shay had gone into the sitting-room to relax as well, leaving Jennifer and Ronan staring at
each other over a table full of dirty dishes.

‘We’re going home,’ Ronan said furiously. ‘You don’t ask someone to dinner and then turn around and tell them to make the coffee. That girl is pig-ignorant and dead
lazy and he’s not much better. She obviously expects us to do the washing-up too. By God I’m going to tell her where to get off. She’s not going to treat you like that, Jenny! Big
deal, so she made a dinner. What did she invite us for if it was going to be such a hardship?’ He stood up, a ferocious scowl replacing his normally cheerful expression.

‘Please, Ronan, don’t say anything. Please don’t start a row,’ Jennifer pleaded.

‘Jennifer, she treats you like a bloody little servant. Do this, Jenny. Do that, Jenny. Make the coffee, Jenny. It’s not on. She’s not going to treat you like that when
I’m around. I won’t have it.’

‘You sound exactly like your father,’ Jennifer hissed furiously. ‘Don’t say, “I won’t have it,” to me.’

‘That’s a nice thing to say, I don’t think.’ Ronan was furious. ‘I’m only thinking of you.’

‘Sshh! Keep your voice down, Ronan,’ Jennifer muttered.

‘Why? Are you afraid the Prima Donna might get upset? Fuck the Prima Donna!’

‘
Ronan!
’ Jennifer remonstrated. ‘Don’t use language like that.’

‘Well she’d drive anyone to bad language.’

‘Your family’s not perfect either. Your father could do with a lesson in manners,’ she snapped.