Foreign Affairs (82 page)

Chapter Eighty-One

Jennifer awoke to the sound of Ronan serenading her. He stood beside the bed balancing the breakfast tray in one hand and a huge bouquet of freesias and a long slender package
in the other. Tousle-headed and bleary-eyed, she grinned up at him. ‘Good morning, lovie, you didn’t forget this year, I see,’ she joked.

Ronan laid the tray gently on her knees. ‘Once bitten, twice shy.’ He chuckled. He’d forgotten their anniversary the previous year and had to endure weeks of teasing.
He’d circled the date in red marker in his diary at work and begged Rachel to remind him in case he forgot. She’d very kindly phoned the previous week.

‘Here’s your card.’ Jennifer leaned over to her bedside locker and took a card from between the pages of her library book and handed it to him with a small flat package.

‘Let’s open them together. What is it?’ he asked, starting to rip off the paper with boyish enthusiasm. Jennifer couldn’t wait for him to open his present. She’d
planned to be awake before him but these nights she slept like a log.

‘Open yours, open yours,’ he instructed and she busily began to unwrap her present, keeping an eye on him. ‘What’s this?’ he asked, astounded, holding up a book of
children’s names. Two tiny pairs of booties, one pink, one blue, fell on the bed. Ronan picked them up and looked at them, and then at Jennifer, and then at the book and then at Jennifer
again. He couldn’t speak.

‘Happy Anniversary,’ she said softly.

‘You’re not . . . Are you . . . Jenny, are you going to have a baby?’

‘
We’re
going to have a baby,’ she corrected him, beaming.

‘How do you know? I mean, have you been to the doctor?’ Ronan sat on the bed, flabbergasted.

‘I found out last week. I suspected it for ages and I went to the doctor and I’m eight weeks pregnant. I was dying to tell you but I thought it would make our anniversary
special.’

‘Oh, Jenny.’ Ronan leaned over and kissed her. ‘I can’t believe it.’

‘Me neither.’ She smiled happily. ‘Are you glad?’

‘Glad! I’m over the moon,’ Ronan declared. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, it will get Grandpa Myles and Dad off my back. I think they were beginning to suspect I was a
eunuch!’

Jennifer giggled. ‘Well I suppose they think after four years we should have something to show for it. Their generation was so different from ours. I can’t wait to tell Paula and the
girls.’

‘How did you keep it to yourself? You of all people?’ Ronan got into bed beside her and took the tray on his knees as she finished unwrapping her present.

Jennifer paused from her task and smiled at him. ‘Ronan, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I wanted you to be the first to know. I couldn’t tell anybody else
before I told you. And I wanted to keep it for our anniversary.’

‘Well you’ve outdone yourself in presents.’ Ronan grinned. ‘I’ll never be able to outdo this.’

‘Ronan!’ Jennifer gave a little squeal of pleasure as she saw the exquisite gold rope chain lying on black velvet. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you. I’m really happy
today,’ she sighed, fingering the chain. ‘I can’t believe we’re four years married.’

‘Remember the lamb?’ Ronan chuckled.

‘Remember Grandpa Myles eating the face off the manager.’ Jennifer laughed.

‘There’s another little present for you in your card,’ she informed him.

‘I was so excited about hearing about the baby I forgot to open it.’ Ronan dived down the bed, nearly upsetting the tray, as he grabbed the white envelope. He opened it, read the
message and a broad grin spread across his face as he opened the gift voucher for six months of training sessions at the local gym. Ronan was a keep-fit addict and liked to work out regularly.

‘Thanks. You’re the best wife in the universe. Imagine you’re pregnant and I never even guessed. Do you feel queasy or peculiar or anything? Brenda was always feeling dizzy at
the beginning, wasn’t she?’ he asked.

Jennifer shook her head. ‘I feel fantastic. I don’t feel any different. Except I get a bit tired at night. That’s why I’m sleeping my brains out. I’d planned to be
up before you this morning.’

‘Well after last year’s fiasco I thought I’d better make a special effort. I didn’t do us a fry-up because I’ve booked lunch for us at the Deer Park in Howth at
one.’

‘Oh my favourite.’ Jennifer lay back on her pillows and felt very pampered and cherished. ‘It’s nice having our anniversary on a Sunday. We have the whole day all to
ourselves.’

‘Let’s go for a walk along the pier afterwards, then we’ll come home, light the fire and get all the papers and flop for the rest of the afternoon,’ Ronan suggested.

‘I wonder will it be a boy or a girl,’ she mused.

‘What would you prefer?’ Ronan munched his toast.

‘I’d like twins, a boy and a girl, the way Brenda had. That would solve all problems,’ Jennifer said.

‘Jeepers, I never thought about twins.’ Ronan looked slightly shocked.

‘The doctor doesn’t think it’s twins,’ Jennifer said. ‘I was just saying it would be handy. But I don’t mind as long as everything’s OK.’

‘I’ll be able to play Santa this year, and I’ll have to remember Mother’s Day next year.’ Ronan groaned. ‘What am I letting myself in for?’ They stayed
in bed making plans, discussing names and laughing over some of the more outrageous ones Ronan selected from his book. Then they made love and took a shower together afterwards.

It was a bright blustery day. They decided to go to eleven-thirty Mass in Ballygall and then pop in to tell Kit and Jim the news before heading off for lunch. Jennifer sat beside Ronan listening
to the magnificent choir singing
Be Not Afraid
and felt very content and happy.

Kit and Jim were thrilled with her news, as was Grandpa Myles.

‘It’s about time,’ he declared, shaking Ronan’s hand. ‘Ye had me worried.’

‘For God’s sake, Grandpa, would you give over?’ Jennifer was half annoyed, half amused.

‘It’s all right, my girl, but you don’t want to be geriatrics yourselves when your children are growing up. All this nonsense about women having careers, and putting off having
babies. T’ain’t natural. St Paul says—’

‘Don’t quote that misogynist to me,’ Jennifer snorted. She had no time for St Paul or St Augustine, her grandfather’s favourites, and source of all wisdom concerning
women, or so he thought.

‘That’s a big word . . . like marmalade, Miss. What does it mean?’ Grandfather Myles asked huffily.

‘It means woman-hater,’ Jennifer said.

‘What nonsense. St Paul spoke a lot of common sense about women, as did St Augustine—’

‘St Augustine was a randy old goat who blamed women because he couldn’t control his urges. And then he had the cheek to start maligning women when he was past it.’ Jennifer
scowled. Kit started to laugh and Jim and Ronan winked at each other.

‘Wirra, wirra, that’s a terrible thing to say about a saint. And you a mother-to-be—’

‘And I can tell you one thing, Grandpa,’ Jennifer continued. ‘If it’s a boy, I won’t be calling him Augustine or—’

‘I sincerely hope not,’ interjected her grandfather. ‘I hope you’ll be calling him Daniel after his grandfather. Not like that Brenda one and her John.’ Jennifer
had to laugh. You couldn’t win with Grandpa Myles or get the last word.

‘Will we call him Daniel if it’s a boy?’ Ronan asked as they drove along the sea front towards Howth. ‘It’s a nice name. And Grumps would be chuffed.’ Ronan
had a soft spot for Jennifer’s grandfather.

‘But what about your father, wouldn’t he mind?’

‘Tough,’ Ronan said grimly. ‘One William Stapleton is enough in the world.’

‘Daniel is a nice name.’ Jennifer squeezed his hand. ‘And if it’s a girl we can call her Danielle,’ she added excitedly. Her grandfather would be as proud as
punch.

‘Danielle’s even more exotic than Claudia,’ teased Ronan.

‘Oh, stop it, you.’

‘Well that’s the names picked with no arguments. What a team we are,’ Ronan said with satisfaction as they drove through Sutton Cross.

‘I wish it was November already.’ Jennifer felt impatient now that she knew she was going to have a Daniel or a Danielle. She wished she didn’t have to wait seven more months
to have the baby. She wanted it now!

They ate a delicious lunch in the cosy dining-room of the Deer Park. She and Ronan regularly treated themselves to Sunday lunch there. The two very pleasant waitresses knew them well and always
had a laugh and a chat with them. The roast beef and Yorkshire pudding was delicious, and when she was asked if she’d like another slice, Jennifer immediately said yes. After all, she was
eating for two, she made excuses for her gluttony.

‘Oh Ronan, look, there’s Banofi for dessert. They must have known we were coming,’ Jennifer enthused as she read the menu. She just adored the toffee and bananas in the crunchy
crushed biscuit base which was all topped lavishly with cream. She had made it once herself when she had the girls over for dinner. Paula had produced a carton of Häagen-Dazs and she’d
spread the ice cream on top. It had been out of this world.

They lingered over coffee, gazing out at the magnificent tree-lined grounds overlooking the sea and Ireland’s Eye. The waitress brought them more coffee and then Ronan and Jennifer sat,
holding hands, discussing how their life was about to change.

‘We’ll have to go house-hunting. Our little shoe-box is too small, even though it’s the nicest shoe-box in the world,’ Ronan said.

‘Yeah, we need a house with a big back garden. It was different when we were small. It was safe to let children out to play. I wouldn’t dare let a child out of my sight now,’
Jennifer said sombrely.

‘We’ll get a house with a big garden,’ Ronan promised. ‘Whereabouts would you like to live?’

‘Somewhere around Mam and Dad’s or Glasnevin or Ballygall,’ Jennifer suggested.

‘Why don’t we go for our walk, and take a spin around and see if there’s anything for sale on the way home?’

‘I’m married to a genius.’ Jennifer grinned.

They strolled along the top of the pier, holding hands, enjoying the wind as it whipped against their faces. Jennifer breathed deeply, inhaling the tangy clean salty air. It was nice to get the
exercise after the superb lunch they’d just eaten. The waves crashed in on the rocks, sending up great sprays of spume, and they stood watching a little trawler gallantly ploughing towards
the entrance of the harbour and didn’t envy the poor fishermen one bit. A young couple pushed a sleeping baby in a buggy ahead of them.

‘That will be us, this time next year,’ Jennifer murmured.

‘I can’t wait.’ Ronan put his arms around her and kissed her.

‘I can’t either.’ Jennifer was on cloud nine. They’d decided a year ago to start trying for a baby and she’d come off the pill. She’d been a bit worried in
the last few months when there’d been no sign of her conceiving. When her period hadn’t arrived two months ago she wondered could she be pregnant. Jennifer put off going to the doctor,
and wouldn’t even try one of the home testing kits in case the result was negative. But as the weeks passed and there was no sign of her period she allowed her hope to get stronger and then
she instinctively knew she was pregnant. She knew that there was life inside her, the doctor just confirmed it for her.

She was a very lucky person, Jennifer decided, several hours later, as she lay cuddled on the sofa with Ronan, reading the Sunday papers in front of a blazing fire. It had started to rain and
the wind was howling down the chimney. The sitting-room, with its warm buttermilk walls and cheerful cream and blue chintz curtains, was cosy and homely. Jennifer and Ronan had put a lot of effort
into their house. She’d miss it when they had to sell it. But it only had two bedrooms and a postage stamp of a garden. She wouldn’t even have room to store a pram. They’d been
very happy in their little home for the last four years but it was time to move on, Jennifer thought as her eyelids grew heavy and she settled herself more comfortably against Ronan’s
shoulder.

‘This is the best anniversary ever,’ she murmured drowsily.

A little rumbling snore was her husband’s answer to that. Jennifer smiled in the firelight and closed her eyes.

Chapter Eighty-Two

‘I’m thrilled for you, Jenny.’ Paula hugged her best friend warmly. ‘Is Ronan chuffed?’

‘Ah he’s delighted.’ Jennifer beamed. They were sitting in her office having a mug of coffee.

‘Are you going to give up work?’ Paula asked. ‘I hope you won’t. I’d miss you like crazy and Kieran would have a fit. He claims he’s never been so organized
in his life because you’re much stricter with him than Helen was.’

‘You’d have to be strict with that fella,’ Jennifer retorted. ‘Or you’d end up on Valium. I think I hear him arriving.’ The unmistakable sound of the
Harley’s roar penetrated the first floor window.

‘Are you going to tell him yet?’ Paula asked.

‘I suppose I’d better. To let him get used to the idea that he’s going to have to get a new secretary for a while anyway. God help her.’

Kieran strode through the door, wearing his black leather jacket and his gauntlets. He’d removed his helmet on the way up the stairs. ‘Morning all,’ he said cheerfully.

Jennifer smiled. Kieran’s sunny nature reminded her of Ronan. ‘I told you to wear a suit today.’ She wagged a finger at her boss. ‘You’ve a lunch in The Commons
with that journalist who’s doing a profile of the company. I’m not letting you go to lunch looking like a Hell’s Angel.’

‘You’re worse than my mother,’ Kieran groaned. ‘Paula, come to my aid here. Tell this woman that clothes do not maketh the man.’ He straddled a chair with his long
legs and ran his fingers through his dark hair, which was all over the place.

‘I’m staying on my fence.’ Paula grinned. ‘Far be it from me to get involved in one of your arguments.’

‘Coward,’ Kieran taunted.