What She Wants (43 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Virginia couldn’t for the life of her see why Jamie thought Barbara bossy. She seemed very quiet, almost docile. Tiny, in direct contrast to the three tall Connells, she had long strawberry blonde hair that trailed down her back in romantic ripples. A heart-shaped little face, demure rosebud mouth and big blue eyes all added up to the very picture of sweetness. It was easy to see how Laurence was crazy about her. Beside Virginia’s strapping sons, Barbara looked like a nymph between two linebackers. ‘Would you like some tea? You must be exhausted after the drive,’ Virginia said once the introductions had been made. ‘If it wouldn’t be too much bother,’ said Barbara. Virginia spotted Jamie raising his eyes to heaven. ‘Not at all,’ she said, shooting Jamie a glare. Dinky trotted confidently after Virginia as she led the way into the kitchen. When nobody had come forward to claim the little dog, Virginia had bought her a lovely tartan collar and a dog licence. If anyone wanted to take Dinky away from her now, they were in for a fight. ‘How are you Ma?’ asked Jamie, immediately sinking onto the old armchair beside the big dresser and hanging his long denimed legs over the arm. He looked so like Bill, thought Virginia fondly, except that Bill had been a heavier build, while Jamie was tall and lanky, with chestnut hair falling into mischievous blue eyes. Even at twenty-five, he still looked boyish. Laurence, on the other hand, looked

tired, she thought anxiously. From a distance, he and Jamie were like twins, but up close Laurence’s blue eyes boasted new lines and his hair didn’t really suit him in that new, going-to-see-the-bank-manager cut. Virginia vowed to get Laurence on his own and ask him if the practice was going well. She wouldn’t embarrass him by asking in front of Barbara. Installed in the kitchen on a chair, Barbara seemed to perch like a bird and gazed around her with those big blue eyes. Dinky, who had so far greeted even the postman with a happy bark, approached and sniffled round the hem of Barbara’s long black skirt with the politeness of a duchess genteelly greeting a friend … ‘Oh a dog, how nice,’ said Barbara, drawing her skirt in closer to her as if Dinky had been a fierce wolfdog with fangs bared. ‘Do you not like dogs?’ asked Virginia, perfectly prepared to banish Dinky to her bed if necessary. Not everyone loved animals the way the Connell family did. ‘I love dogs,’ cooed Barbara, still holding her skirt in. As if to say that the new guest was lying, Dinky shot Virginia a wry glance. ‘Yes, she loves dogs,’ interrupted Laurence anxiously as if scared that anyone might think his beloved girlfriend was anything less than a saint. ‘Dinky, come here,’ said Virginia. Perhaps Barbara was merely nervy, she deserved the benefit of the doubt. Dinky, ever the lady, came and sat quietly at her mistress’s feet. She stayed there while Barbara explained at great length why she loved the country. Virginia felt herself tuning out eventually and wondered why Barbara had drawn a very dark lip liner around her mouth that bore no relation to her actual lip line. Fashion, she assumed. After twenty minutes of Barbara’s version of country life, Virginia realized that her son’s girlfriend’s notion of the country was restricted to watching TV soaps about rural

communities and occasionally going to the races, where she’d nearly won the best dressed lady competition twice. ‘You looked a million dollars at Leopardstown,’ Laurence said, reaching across the table to pat her tiny little hand with his big one. ‘I’ve got the photos somewhere, they were taken by a professional photographer, you know,’ Barbara added smugly. She was probably just trying to impress, Virginia thought charitably, as they all heard about the hat with the hand-painted flowers that the judges had so admired. Of course the woman who’d won owned a boutique so had unrivalled access to lots of clothes, which wasn’t fair, as Barbara said. ‘In that case, she definitely cheated,’ Jamie said, straight-faced. ‘Boutique-owners shouldn’t be allowed to compete. You should have asked for a steward’s inquiry.’ ‘Why don’t you all have a walk or a bath or whatever and I’ll start dinner,’ Virginia suggested, shooting him a warning glance. It had been so long since she’d had to cook for more than one that she needed the kitchen to herself and wanted to scotch any notions Barbara might have about helping. Those beautifully painted nails couldn’t have ever had much to do with peeling vegetables. Everyone shot off, leaving Virginia and Dinky alone. ‘What do you think of her?’ Virginia asked Dinky, who laid her pink nose on her paws and looked gravely upwards. Not very much, was the answer. Jamie asked the same question an hour and a half later in the dining room as Virginia got him to help her lay the table. She hadn’t had a chance to answer before Barbara’s voice could be heard from the sitting room where she and Laurence had just arrived. ‘Should that dog be allowed in the house?’ said Barbara in much more carrying tones than the babydoll ones she’d used so far. Virginia stiffened.

‘Told you,’ said naughty Jamie, appearing beside his mother. ‘She may look and act like butter wouldn’t melt but she’s a direct descendant of Attila the Hun’s nasty older sister.’ ‘You might have told me,’ scolded his mother. ‘I did. You didn’t believe me,’ Jamie snorted. ‘She’s a lovely little dog,’ they heard Laurence say placatingly. ‘Mmm. This entire house needs an overhaul,’ continued Barbara in tones of disgust. ‘I don’t know how your mother can live here. I mean, the damp in our bedroom. It can’t be good for my asthma. There’s a huge damp spot on the wall Virginia heard no more. Jamie propelled her back into the kitchen before she self-combusted. ‘How dare she?’ growled Virginia, ‘how dare she?’ Jamie, irrepressible as ever, laughed. ‘Why don’t you send Dinky on a suicide mission to kill her?’ he asked. ‘I wouldn’t let Dinky near her. She’d poison the poor dog.’ At dinner, Barbara was back to being Ms Butter “Wouldn’t Melt, even calling Dinky over to her to offer a bit of bread. But Dinky wasn’t stupid. She stayed watchfully at Virginia’s feet offering support to her mistress, who was no longer in the mood to put up with false politeness. When Barbara gushingly said she adored Kilnagoshell House and loved the faded curtains that Virginia hadn’t got round to replacing, Virginia had to bite her tongue. ‘Ouch!’ was all she said, but that was because Jamie had kicked her under the table. She glared at his innocent face but, for Laurence’s sake, said nothing to Barbara. If he loved Barbara, it wasn’t her place to upset things. And with luck, he’d soon realize that a woman who could be sweet in public and shrewish in Private was not a good bet. The next day, Barbara got up early and used up all the hot water having an enormous bath. Seeing as how Virginia

had mentioned that the plumbing was sensitive and that she’d been meaning for ages to get someone to sort out the hot water situation, she was understandably cross to have to endure a freezing cold shower. ‘Sorry,’ Barbara said in her baby doll voice. ‘As this place was a B & B before, I thought the plumbing would be wonderful.’ Virginia glared at her. Nobody looking at the faded, elegantly run down Kilnagoshell with its elderly bathrooms, could have imagined that it had decent plumbing. In fact, Virginia was always waiting for the hot water tank to come crashing down from the attic whenever she switched the heater on. After breakfast, Barbara suggested accompanying Virginia on her daily walk with Dinky. ‘What a lovely idea,’ Laurence said, giving his mother an affectionate hug. ‘Yes, lovely,’ said naughty Jamie. ‘The whole family together, lovely.’ Barbara was not cut out for walking. First, she had the wrong sort of shoes for muddy country lanes, then she wailed like a fishwife when she caught her trailing, pure white Macintosh on a bramble and a thread pulled out. Finally, she said she’d love to see cute little animals like rabbits and wherever were they? Shaking in their warrens frightened out of their skulls by your screaming, I dare say, Virginia muttered to herself. Back home, she took Dinky and rushed out of the house saying she had errands to run, anything to get away before Barbara suggested another en masse trip. Mary-Kate was quite happy to leave Otis in charge for ten minutes while she and Virginia went into her cosy office to share a coffee and some of the pastries Virginia had brought. ‘I hate to think I’m turning into one of those awful women who loathe their daughters-in-law and their sons’ girlfriends,’ Virginia groaned. ‘Mothers-in-law cause so much

strife. Apparently, they even have classes in Italy where mothers-in-law can go to learn how to get their claws out of their sons and let the marriages run normally. Or is it India? Somewhere beginning with an I, anyhow.’ ‘But not Ireland,’ Mary-Kate said mischievously. ‘Only joking,’ she added, seeing Virginia’s stricken look. ‘You get on brilliantly with your other son’s wife, don’t you?’ ‘Sally, you mean?’ Virginia snuffled a bit until she found her handkerchief. ‘Yes I do but that’s different.’ ‘Exactly, that’s different because she’s nice and kind and you love her. This Barbara sounds like a total bitch and you don’t like her. But you’ll just have to put up with her, I’m afraid.’ Virginia looked distraught at this. ‘All I want is for the boys to be happy, I want them to be married to wonderful, kind women I adore, then I know they’ll be content.’ ‘Yes, and I want world peace and to win the lottery but neither wish is going to come true, so I’ll have to live without them,’ Mary-Kate pointed out pragmatically. ‘You never know, Laurence could get tired of her and dump her. Men are always dumping women. He must have had loads of girlfriends in the past.’ ‘When he was younger, yes,’ Virginia said gloomily. ‘This is different. This is serious. Barbara’s the sort of girl who won’t rest until she’s got the diamond solitaire on her finger and has the church booked.’ Mary-Kate looked thoughtful. ‘That serious, huh. I wonder if Delphine could persuade any of her drop-dead gorgeous friends to lure Laurence away from Barbara for one night of passion. That’d put a stop to her wedding fantasy gallop.’ Virginia laughed. ‘Only you would think of that. You’re far too Machiavellian to be running a chemist’s. You should be CEO of some giant corporation.’ ‘You could be horrible to her and tell Laurence you hate her.’ Even though Virginia knew her friend was only joking,

she still shook her head. ‘No, I refuse to pander to the wicked motherin-law legend. I’m sick of hearing about bitter women who treat their daughters-in-law like bonded servants and their sons like spoiled pashas. I won’t join the twisted sisterhood.’ ‘Practice a fixed smile, then,’ Mary-Kate advised. They finished their coffee and had said goodbye when Virginia thought of something else about Barbara that she hated. ‘And you won’t believe it,’ she added grimly. ‘Barbara doesn’t like Dinky.’ Mary-Kate held a hand dramatically to her chest. ‘That does it. I’ll get the rifle out now. This woman must be stopped!’ ‘You’re a big idiot, do you know that?’ Virginia chuckled. Her good humour was short-lived. That night, Laurence took them all out to dinner in the Pigeon Club, a local five-star restaurant. ‘The practice must be doing well, Laurie,’ said Jamie, wincing as he looked at the prices. ‘I should have become a dentist. I couldn’t afford this place on a teacher’s salary.’ ‘We wanted to come somewhere special,’ Laurence said, smiling over at Barbara, who dimpled up at him, ‘because we’ve got good news. Barbara and I are getting married.’ Virginia didn’t know who was the more astonished: herself or Jamie. From somewhere, she summoned up the ability to smile, say congratulations and to kiss Laurence. Then, with supreme effort, she gave her first ever air kiss, to Barbara, because she couldn’t bear to touch her. Barbara didn’t notice, she was too busy beaming with sheer delight. As Virginia looked at her daughter-in-law-to-be, she realized that Barbara’s big pale blue eyes were as cold as the winter sky before snow.

‘Any news of the wedding of the year?’ inquired Sally, a week later, when Virginia had just about got over the shock.

Virginia laughed heartily into the phone. At least she had one daughter-in-law she got on with. ‘No, you brat. Don’t remind me. You won’t be so chirpy when you’ve had her for the weekend.’ Barbara and Laurence were due to visit Dominic and Sally in London soon. ‘She’ll insist on going to Harrods where Laurence will be made to buy her something expensive, and you won’t be able to understand a word she says because she’s got the weirdest, put-on accent I’ve ever heard in my life.’ ‘So Jamie says. He hates her.’ Virginia shook her head miserably. ‘I’m not a huge fan, either. Oh, let’s talk about something else. I’ve been spending far too long thinking about bloody Barbara. When I can’t sleep, I find myself grinding my teeth and thinking of all the things I’d like to say to her. Anyway, Sally,’ Virginia said proudly, ‘I’ve made a phone call I’ve been meaning to make for ages. I’ve booked lessons with a pro in the local golf club and I start in a week.’ ‘Fantastic!’ said Sally. Virginia suspected Sally would have said ‘fantastic’ if she’d mentioned taking up the trapeze. Any sign that Virginia was coming out of her gloom was a positive sign, no matter what she decided to do. ‘I’ll probably be terrible at it and I’m a bit old to start,’ Virginia said. ‘Nonsense,’ said Sally staunchly. Her motherin-law grinned. ‘You’re a terrible liar, do you know that?’ They both laughed. ‘The pro asked had I played any other sport and I said camoige when I was a teenager and he said that was perfect. Mind you, I pointed out that it was forty years since I had a camoige stick in my hand and he said that was still perfect, I wouldn’t have any bad habits to unlearn.’ ‘Camoige’s that game that’s a bit like hurling, is it?’ enquired Sally, a born and bred Londoner who had never

heard of such mad Irish games as hurling until she’d fallen for Dominic. ‘Much more violent,’ smiled Virginia. ‘I’ll probably be banned from the local course for belting the Lady Captain with my nine iron.’ ‘You’ve certainly got all the lingo,’ Sally pointed out. ‘Living with a besotted golfer all those years, you’d have to be deaf not to,’ Virginia said. Living with Bill, she meant. Lucky she had a tissue up her sleeve to wipe the tears away.

The golf professional in St Cecilia’s Golf Club was a gruff and grizzled man in his forties who was short on small talk and who had obviously got out of bed the wrong side. ‘Why is the club called St Cecilia’s?’ Virginia asked politely as the pair of them walked from the clubhouse to the tiny driving range where she was to receive her first lesson. ‘Don’t be asking me,’ snapped Fintan O’Riordain. ‘I’m here to teach you how to play golf, not to give you a history lesson.’ Count to ten, Virginia told herself. ‘My husband played and these are his clubs,’ Virginia said, stroking one of them. ‘Probably too big for you, Mrs Connell. Women need shorter clubs than men do.’ Virginia eyed him coolly. He was shorter than she was and no doubt used men’s clubs, but she held back. ‘Now watch me,’ Fintan said and hit a few drives to impress her. Bill would have hit them further, Virginia thought proudly. He’d always said he was a long hitter. ‘Your turn,’ Fintan said. After ten minutes when he showed her how to grip the golf club and managed to sigh heavily every few seconds at how stupid she was proving, Virginia had had enough of Fintan. ‘Two knuckles, woman!’ Fintan roared, wrenching the five iron from her grip and demonstrating.