Twisted Love and Money (28 page)

“…
Yes, but I don’t want to be pregnant.”

“We’d have to
get married if you were pregnant.”

Ann-Marie
giggled, she liked the thought.

“Stop Seamus,”
she instructed in a determined whisper. She crossed her legs on his
hand so it could move no further. “If you have no condom it’s no. I
have my pride I want it the proper way.

“Marry me,” he
whispered with a big grin on his face.

“Yes.”

They kissed,
this time the passion tinged with a mutual acceptance. Ann-Marie
took his hands in hers. She felt strongly romantic and her sexual
desire had eased out into warmness towards the world in general and
Seamus in particular. The lay silently for a while until Ann-Marie
decided her chest was getting chilly. She snuggled up to Seamus and
they kissed.

“No love-making
until you produce a contraceptive,” she explained.

“Where can I
get one, not at this hour?”

“Ejit,”
Ann-Marie remonstrated.

“
Do you know how to wear one?” she asked with a
giggle.

“Feck off,”
Seamus said giving her a squeeze.

Ann-Marie let
her hand wander slowly down his leather jacket to his leather
trousers. “Don’t move or grab me. If you do, I stop,” she
whispered.

Seamus groaned
and lay still and tense. She kissed his forehead, his eyes, and his
lips. Hungrily Seamus responded but lay still on his back. Then he
juddered to a climax. Satisfied, Ann-Marie smiled a possessive
smile at him.

Seamus was
shattered.

“I’ll never do
it alone again,” he whispered, kissing her breasts.

Ann-Marie
laughed happily. “We better go now,” she whispered, “Nana mustn’t
know we have been in the bedroom.”

Silently they
dressed and departed the house. Seamus walked Ann-Marie up the
driveway to within view of the house. “You don’t mind finding out I
live up in big house?” she asked, snuggling into his arm as they
walked along.

Seamus put his
arm around her and kissed her. “Not if you don’t.”

“I work there
as one of the chamber maids.”

“I’ll take you
out of there,” Seamus promised.

“Do you really
intend being an engineer?” she asked. “I was surprised when you
mentioned it to Nana.”

“Sure.”

“My parents are
snobs, but I don’t think they could object strongly to an
Engineer.”

“Its not your
parents I want,” Seamus said with emphasis.

They parted
reluctantly, Ann-Marie reminding Seamus to push his bike up to the
main road before he started up. He waited until she reached the
front door and then slipped away, moving quietly back to where he
had hidden his motorbike.

Chapter
thirty-two

They were just
finishing supper when Ann-Marie breezed in.

“Supper
darling?” her mother asked.

“No thank you,
I ate in Nana’s. I warned cook,” Ann-Marie replied.

She kissed her
mother and father and bid them good night. “I am going to watch TV
in my room” she explained, “and I have some studying to do.”

“Goodnight,”
her parents echoed in chorus.

“Brandy to
finish?” Michael offered.

“I’ll have a
gin,” Ann said.

They left the
dining room to the maids and went into the living room where
Michael fixed the drinks. He lit himself a cigar. Ann watched her
husband warily. The cigar usually meant a serious conversation.

“I had a
peculiar phone call today,” he began.

Ann stayed
silent.

“The parish
priest rang me today,” Michael continued. “Ann, he expressed grave
concern about you.”

“I was a bit
drunk today,” Ann admitted with a wry smile. She was inwardly
shocked. That rat of a parish priest, she thought. Of course he
would be the only one in the parish with enough nerve to stand up
to the lady of the manor.

“The parish
priest told me you were at the jumble sale today.”

“Duty called, I
had agreed to open it.”

“He said that
at a point in the afternoon you were out the back of the main
tent.”

Ann held her
glass tightly, the bastard.

“He said you
were lying on your back kicking your feet in the air. Showing your
legs to the world. He said, or he tried to say, you had no knickers
on.”

Michaels voice
was cold and he was appraising her with a jaundiced eye. He was
furious, a fury fed by the business events of the day. One thing he
would not tolerate was the family being turned into the village
joke.

“He is a liar,”
Ann denied vigorously.

“I rang around.
I have confirmation.” Michael’s eyes drilled into her.

“I…” Ann
hesitated, “I had to go out the back to lie down. I’d had a bit to
drink. Everything was so boring I was going mad. I needed to lie
down. It was such a nice day. I lay out the back. Everything else
is exaggerated.”

“I understand a
crowd gathered at the edge of the main tent. They were laughing at
your carry on.”

“Rubbish, I lay
down. They were concerned. It was nothing.”

A maid stuck
her head in around the door.

“Excuse me,”
she said. “But the doctor has arrived.”

“Thanks,”
Michael replied, and the maid withdrew.

“I asked for
the doctor to call Ann. In case you were feeling ill. Will you talk
to him for five minutes?”

“Doctor? I
don’t need the doctor. Dr. Miller is a quack. I don’t go to the
local doctor.”

“Dr. Miller is
our family doctor. He came out tonight at my request. I would not
like to waste his time Please see him.”

Ann considered,
she knew Michael was determined, “If you insist. I’ll give him five
minutes.”

Michael pulled
the bell cord at the mantelpiece. Elizabeth, one of the downstairs
maids appeared. “Send in Doctor Miller,” Michael instructed.

Dr. Miller was
a short squat man in his early fifties. He had been the family
doctor since he joined his fathers practice twenty-five years
before. He had sharp penetrating eyes but his manner was jovial and
relaxing.

Michael excused
himself and the doctor sat opposite Ann. He began by discussing
familiarities like the weather and so forth. Ann had expected some
sort of physical check up but the doctor seemed unconcerned. He
accepted an offer of a drink and fixed it himself. Ann took another
gin.

“I hear you had
a little over the top today,” he began. Ann smiled a tight
smile

“How many
bottles would you do a day?” he continued.

“Never more
than one,” she protested defensively.

The
conversation went on in general terms again and then the doctor was
back to the point.

“I hear you and
Michael are going abroad for a while?”

“So he tells
me.”

“What do you
think about it?”

“This house,”
Ann stood up and waved her hands about. “I hate it with a passion.
When Michael brought me here his mother was in charge. I was not
allowed to lift a finger. ‘Leave it to the maids’ or ‘that’s the
cooks job.’ The old bitch, she never let me change anything.”

“She is long
dead now.”

“I know,” Ann
sat down with a sigh. “I know, but I still can’t change it. Not
after all these years. I just sit around and drink. Everyone is
against me. The Gardener watches me, and the maids, and the parish
committee. They are so stuffy.” Ann spoke bitterly.

When Dr. Miller
left nearly her an hour later he left Ann sitting on her sofa
finishing another gin. Ann’s eyes were shining, partly from the
drink, partly from the chance the Doctor had given her to talk.
Michael never talked to her. He always told her. She sipped her
drink and let the Doctor go. She was uneasy. He had said nothing
and done nothing, not even an examination. But she did not trust
him.

Michael was
waiting in the Library off the main hall. He indicated to Dr.
Miller to come in.

“Well?” he
asked.

Dr. Miller
considered his verdict. “She is an alcoholic. I presume you know
that?”

“An alcoholic?”
From the tone of Michaels reply the Doctor knew this was news to
him.

“It’s worse
than that,” he continued.

“Worse?”

“Yes. This
business at the jumble sale. From my discussions with her I think
she is in the early stages of Schizophrenia.”

“Jesus, what is
that?”

“It is a
behavioural problem. Not quite split personality. She has moods, is
detached from reality, and thinks people are out to get her. If you
do nothing her behaviour will become increasingly bizarre. She will
withdraw and become increasingly unsocial.”

“Can she be
cured?”

“Alcoholism
first needs her to recognize the problem. In her circumstances that
may be difficult. She needs treatment. With the right programmed of
medication schizophrenia can be brought under control. But she
needs help now.”

“What do you
recommend Doctor?”

“Committal.”

“Committal, do
you mean to a mental home?” Michael was shocked.

“Mental
hospitals are not what they were. Your wife can go private. I can
find a suitable private clinic.”

“For how
long?”

“For a few
months I’m afraid.”

“I need to get
abroad soonest. It’s a tax matter.”

“A clinic
abroad would probably be just as good.”

“What do you
need in order to commit her?”

“Your consent.
And she will be checked by a second Doctor and that is it.”

“What happens
then?”

“She loses all
rights until discharged. If you commit her in Ireland it is
unlikely to affect your own tax status and it has the advantage of
being easier to achieve.”

“I’d have to go
abroad alone then?”

“Where are you
going?”

“I’m not sure.
I fancy Cannes or San Tropez.”

“Lucky
you.”

“And she would
just be locked up and treated.”

“Yes, your
children can visit her. She might be better to be treated in
Ireland. Surroundings are more familiar and secure.”

Michael
considered. “Do what is necessary,” he then said decisively. “But
see if you can leave it a fortnight. We want to throw a weekend
party before we go into tax exile. Can she handle that?”

“Yes, I suppose
so. If you can keep an eye on her. I’ll give a prescription for
some drugs. See she takes them.”

“I appreciate
your help Dr. Miller.”

“No problem.
I’ll make the arrangements for the end of the month. Seriously she
needs attention. As a holding operation I’ll give you a
prescription, persuade her to follow it. She has to be
stabilized.”

“The
drink?”

“Ah now, no
drink with prescription drugs. If she is drinking, hold the drugs,
but watch her. She needs support. It’s a slow burn thing, another
couple of weeks probably won’t matter too much, though in truth I
would like to commit her now.”

“Do me a
favour. Hold off. I want time to tell her. And we have been
planning this party. I think it would do her more harm than good to
miss it.”

“Party, what
sort of a party?” The doctor was never adverse to a party.

“Family and
business. Dorothy wants to bring her young man down for the weekend
to show him off. We suspect something may be in the wind.”

Michael winked
and the doctor laughed.

“Also,” Michael
added, “I have a need to get some business people down for the
weekend to close a deal I have on the boil. All in all I think it
would be better if Ann was around.”

“Sounds like it
might be strenuous for her,” the doctor said doubtfully.

“Look doctor,
how can I have a potential son-in-law down to the house for a
weekend and say, oops sorry, I had to send Dorothy’s mother to the
Looney bin. Don’t you think the young man might have second
thoughts?”

“I take your
point,” the doctor considered. “You would have to watch her
carefully. Get her to cut down on the drink and I can prescribe
something.”

“Excellent
Doc., I promise, treatment within the fortnight. Just give her what
it takes to keep her afloat for another two weeks, then we’ll do
the necessary.”

“If you
undertake to be careful and keep an eye on her.”

“Done.”

Michael saw the
doctor out. He was delighted at how cooperative the local doctor
was. He went back to Ann.

“What did he
say?” she demanded.

“Cut out the
drink for a fortnight. Can you do that? That or go to Hospital. He
left some prescription for you. You have to follow it.”

Tears filled
Ann’s eyes and Michael held her close. “Silly bitch,” he whispered
fondly.

“Don’t worry I
won’t misbehave again. You can trust me. I got so low.” Ann
murmured through her tears.

Michael fixed
himself another Brandy. Better watch myself, he thought. He stood
with his back to the fireplace and watched his wife. She had
switched on the TV and was focusing on a late movie, curled up with
a gin in her hand.

Funny, he
thought, the way her warmth had become more angular over the years.
Of course she loved the house, maybe the thought of leaving had
upset her. She was close with her thoughts these days. But no, at
one point she had been a broader person with wide interests. In
recent years she had seemed to focus down on sensation, the likes
of drinks parties, meeting strangers, all occasions where the
drinks were flowing and the crack was mighty. But she had grown
raucous and harsh. And so withdrawn outside the big occasion. So
suspicious of those who she dealt with, vindictive at times. Mind
you she still tried, for example that parenting class, but then
again they were fashionable.

Warming his
rear at the fire, Michael wondered what it would be like to go to
Cannes without her. Cannes because he had been there once before.
But then maybe his tax accountant would say France was out. Of
course he would be able to cut a dash with his share of the fifty
million in his pocket. Not that he would be able to afford one of
those private yachts. He would need a hundred million for that.