Ripples (5 page)

“Tough luck, Brenda. Hands off,” Alison muttered as she packed her toothbrush.

Alison didn't want Brenda to become Mrs McHugh. That would alter the status between them too much.

She'd always enjoyed being the object of Brenda's envy. As long as she stayed married to Barry, Brenda would be the poor little spinster who couldn't
quite
get a man of her own and had to settle for used goods.

Alison would have the security of
her wedding ring and still have men attracted to her like moths to a flame. It was almost like being a teenager again.

I'm quite the catch, she thought giddily as she packed her sexy, black suspender belt.

Life had never been so good.

Barry switched off the news. He slid his Elvis tape into the deck.

So, the first divorce case was going through. No doubt Brenda would give him an ear-bashing tonight. She was as much of a nag as Alison had been.

Women. They were all the same.

Brenda would start about divorce the minute he went in the door. Well, she was barking up the wrong tree there. He'd never promised her marriage. He had no intention of ever getting married again.

Once was enough.

Besides, he was dammed if that cow, Alison, was going to get her hot sweaty little paws on one penny of his money. He'd worked hard for that house. It was his investment. He wasn't going to split the profits for it down the middle so that she could go and set up with her new toy-boy lover.

Let
him
buy his own house. Toy-boy could set her up in the style that she was always going on about.

Wooden floors. Hob cookers. Dishwashers!

He was welcome to her. She'd have him broke in no time!

Not that he'd let on to Alison that he didn't want a divorce. Barry smiled nastily.

He'd keep her dangling. It was the best way to keep women. On their toes.

Anyway he had Ciara and his
mother to think about, he thought self-righteously. He wouldn't upset them with a divorce. He had to be a
responsible
parent and son.

No! Divorce was not an option.

Barry scowled. If people didn't like it, they could bloody well lump it.

His life suited him just fine the way it was.

Six months later
…

“Assert yourself, Lillian. Assert yourself!” Lillian muttered fiercely. Her best friend, Mona Ryan, was always telling her to “assert” herself.

She saw Barry's car coming up the drive. Her heart fluttered. She felt as if telephones were dancing up and down her tummy.

In the hall stood four large black plastic sacks. She had packed his clothes, shoes, toothbrush and razor, papers and magazines into the four of
them. Then she'd lugged them down the stairs.

She stood up and went to the sitting-room door. She was trembling.

Barry's key rattled in the door. He pushed it open.

“Hello,” he muttered when he saw her.

Then he saw the bags.

“What's this?” He turned to her with a puzzled look on his face.

Lillian took a deep breath.

“It's time for you to go, Barry. When you came first, it was only for a few weeks. It's been over a year and you're still here. My life is not my own. Last Saturday, Mrs Ryan and I were watching a film and you came in and switched over to get the sports results. We missed the end of the film.” Lillian's cheeks were bright pink but she carried on bravely.

“I won't have that any more. This is my house. I want to be able to entertain my friends. And I
don't
like sport,” she said crossly.

“Oh! Sorry,” grunted Barry.

“Anyway it's time you made up your mind what you're going to do with yourself. Either go back to your wife and child or go and live with that other one,” Lillian ordered.

Barry said nothing. He lifted the black sacks out to the car, two by two. Minutes later he was gone.

Lillian couldn't believe it. It had been that easy. She'd asserted herself. Her life was her own again. She felt a million dollars. She took out the sherry bottle and two little glasses. She picked up the phone and dialled.

“Mona. He's gone. Come over and have a glass to celebrate. There's a good detective story on tonight. I'll
make supper and we'll watch it in peace.

“Good woman yourself,” Mona exclaimed. “I'll be over in a jiffy.”

“
This is my happy day
,” sang Lillian. “
This is the day that I'll remember the day I'm dying
.” She hurried out to the kitchen to make a nice macaroni-cheese supper.

So it was decision time. Barry frowned. He could go back to Alison and Ciara or go and live with Brenda.

Neither choice enticed him. If he went home to Alison and Ciara he'd have to put up with Alison and her carry-on. If he went to live with Brenda, she'd nag him to get a divorce and marry her.

Barry stopped at the corner shop and got the
Evening Herald
. He
thumbed through the property section. There were some nice little apartments around. One of them would suit him down to the ground. He wouldn't bother to tell Brenda that he'd left his mother's. He scanned the pages. There were several one-bedroom apartments advertised. He dialled the number of one on his mobile.

Two hours later, Barry stood in an egg-box-sized one-bedroom apartment overlooking the canal. It was perfect for him. Nice view. Hardly any housework, it was so small. A TV in the corner.

“I'll take it,” he told the landlord.

What more could he want? He was a free man. No one would know that he had his own place. He unpacked his four black sacks. He washed his face, brushed his hair and rang Brenda.

“I'm coming over,” he said. “I haven't eaten. I'll get us a bottle of wine. See you soon.”

Brenda might be a nag but she was a great cook. He knew he'd get a decent dinner.

Barry smiled. A rare smile. He was happy.

Brenda flitted around the kitchen. She sliced and chopped and sprinkled and poured. A rich, tasty aroma filled the kitchen.

He had sounded in great form. He was bringing a bottle of wine. That was most unusual. Barry could be very mean, she'd discovered. He ate her out of house and home and took it for granted.

Maybe tonight was the night. Maybe at long last he was going to move in with her and ask her to marry him. Brenda ran upstairs and changed into a sexy low-cut top and a shorter skirt. She sprayed White Linen on
her wrists. Her eyes danced with excitement.

Tonight was the night. It had to be. She'd put up with being a mistress for long enough.

“Are you sure you'll be all right?” Alison asked as she did a twirl around the bedroom. She was wearing a denim skirt and a belly top and she looked about sixteen. She had a great figure for a woman of her age, she told herself happily. She was off to Tomangos.

“I'll be fine,” Ciara assured her. She had plans of her own.

She was inviting some of the girls from her new school over and they were going to order pizza and watch
Friends
. Everyone at school thought she was so lucky to have a free house every Friday and Saturday night. Her
friends loved coming over. They thought Alison was cool. Ciara was very popular at her new school.

Some of them wanted to bring their boyfriends but Ciara said no. Girls only. Boys were not allowed. Boys turned into men and she knew better than anyone that men were horrible. Just like her father. She wanted nothing to do with men. They only made you unhappy.

It was a pity that Sara wasn't allowed to come. Kathy and Mike were very, very strict. Sara was always fighting with them because they wouldn't let her do things. It was awkward.

Ciara didn't stay with Kathy and Mike so much lately. She knew that they didn't approve of her being left alone in the house after school. And especially at night. They wouldn't let Sara stay unless there was an adult in the house.
It was silly. They weren't kids any more. They were at secondary school now.

Besides, Ciara liked being on her own. She could invite her new friends in to the house. They were cool. She liked being part of a gang.

Kathy and Mike had to let Sara grow up some time, Ciara told herself, as she applied eye shadow to her eyes and pale plum lipstick to her lips. She was a teenager. She was practically grown up.

Tomorrow night she and her friends were going to the pictures in the Omni. It was an over-sixteen but she'd get in easily. She'd done it before. And poor Sara would be stuck at home doing her homework.

Ciara felt very sorry for her former best friend.

OPEN DOOR SERIES

Sad Song
by Vincent Banville

In High Germany
by Dermot Bolger

Not Just for Christmas
by Roddy Doyle

Maggie's Story
by Sheila O'Flanagan

Jesus and Billy Are Off to Barcelona
by Deirdre Purcell

Ripples
by Patricia Scanlan