City Girl (35 page)

Twenty-five

His first blow sent her reeling against the sofa and knocked the breath from her body. At first she felt no pain, so shocked was she by the unexpectedness of the assault.

‘Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!’ he grated, as his clenched fists battered her ribs and breasts. As suddenly as he started, he stopped. His eyes glacial, his fingers cruelly gripping her arms,
he hissed at her, ‘Don’t ever do anything like that again without my permission. I don’t want you next or near that tramp. Don’t ever visit her in Ballymun again. I
won’t have my wife seen in a place like that! Do you hear me, Caroline?’

Too shocked to say anything, she could just stare back at him through pain-filled eyes.

Walking over to the door he said coldly, ‘Dominic Carter is opening a new wine bar in town, I told him we’d put in an appearance tonight. Be ready for eight thirty.’ Then, as
if nothing had happened, Richard picked up his briefcase and left for work. They had been married just six months.

How long Caroline sat there she couldn’t remember, but eventually she dragged herself into the bathroom and eased her negligée from her bruised and battered body. Every intake of
breath caused her pain but it was nothing to the mental anguish she was suffering. Nothing had prepared her for this! How could she have been so wrong about someone, she asked herself over and
over. Had her great desire to be married blinded her to his true character? If she had looked hard enough would she have found any indications that would have given her an idea of what was to come?
Horrified, she wiped the blood from her ribs where his wedding ring had torn her skin. Her wisp of a negligée had not been much protection against the ferocity of the beating. She climbed
into the bath, wincing as the warm water made contact with her wounds.

Why did he hate Devlin so much? He had never liked her, probably because she was not impressed with his status and position in life as people usually were upon meeting him. When he heard she was
pregnant he was disgusted. Richard could be so prim. When he heard she was going to live in Ballymun he ordered his wife not to see her again. She cursed herself for leaving her cheque book lying
around the bedroom. It had been all there on the stub. Pay Ms Devlin Delaney five hundred pounds. Standing in front of her, furiously angry, his skin mottled red with temper, he had roared at her,
‘What did I tell you?’

‘But it’s my own money!’ she had protested heatedly. Then he had hit her.

What had she done to deserve such unhappiness? Her marriage had been a disaster from the start. Bitterly she massaged the baby oil into her bruised skin remembering the horror of her wedding
night.

Caroline had been so happy, anticipating the night of rapturous love that would be hers, when she finally became a woman, equal to Devlin, Maggie, the obnoxious Ruth and millions of others.
Having spent a small fortune on her Janet Reger lingerie she felt beautiful, slim and even sexy for the first time in her life. They were honeymooning in Paris and she longed to explore its
treasures with her new husband. Paris was supposed to be for lovers and it was springtime. If the wedding had been a bit of a disappointment she was certain the honeymoon would make up for it.

Surprisingly, for such a social person, Richard had informed her that he would prefer a small intimate wedding. ‘Your mother and my father are both dead, darling, and I think it would be
easier on our parents don’t you?’ When he put it like that, what could Caroline say? Then, Devlin wouldn’t be there, a source of great disappointment to Caroline, who had longed
for her friend to be her bridesmaid. But she quite understood how Devlin, having just given birth, could not make it. Fortunately, Maggie and Terry were back in Ireland to make preparations for
their final return and Caroline had fixed the date for when they were home, so that they could attend.

There had been a family row about who was going to be bridesmaid. Her aunt wanted her to choose her daughter Rita, Caroline’s cousin, when she heard that Devlin couldn’t make it. But
Caroline was adamant. Rita never had time to talk to Caroline when Caroline had been living at home and been fat and dumpy, but since Caroline had started dating Richard and begun to move in yuppie
circles, Rita had become much more friendly, always angling for an invitation to join Richard and Caroline on a night out.

‘Wouldn’t it be a great way to introduce Rita to some nice well-off solicitor. I’m sure Richard must know plenty of them,’ her aunt would say, not a bit backwards about
coming forwards. It was so sickening! Caroline knew she was being used, and for once put her foot down. And besides just because you were a solicitor didn’t mean you were the perfect catch,
Caroline felt like telling her aunt. Paulo had been a waiter when she met him in Portugal, he had little money, no social position to speak of, although he was studying to be a doctor. Yet he had
made her feel more alive and sensual and womanly in the two weeks she had been with him than Richard had in their entire courtship – despite his BCL! There were times when her aunt and cousin
really irritated her. But it was partly, she had to admit to herself, that their behaviour made her question her own. Was she marrying Richard because he was considered a great catch? Or because
she truly loved him? Or because she was afraid she would be left on the shelf?

God, why was life so complicated? Did all brides have these problems and self doubts? Did all brides have families who seemed bent on upsetting their most important day?

‘I’m not wearing bloody tails. It’s not a goddammed circus we’re going to,’ her father had fumed, when Caroline told him that Richard was insisting on top hat and
tails.

‘Please Dad,’ she pleaded. ‘Couldn’t you just do this one thing for me?’

‘I’ll feel like a right eejit! It’s far from bloomin’ top hats and tails you were reared, miss, so don’t go getting any notions about yourself,’ he had
grumbled. Privately she had to agree with him. When she heard Richard saying he was wearing top hat and tails, and expected her dad and the boys to wear the same, her heart sank. Richard could be
such a snob! Those ridiculous hats looked so silly on men, and the tails always reminded her of penguins. Of course, he was getting the whole thing on video. And when they came back from their
honeymoon, they were going to throw a big bash for all their set. Big weddings seemingly were not the ‘in’ thing. But a small wedding and a big bash afterwards for the friends and
acquaintances meant that you could invite as many as you liked and still get decent presents.

‘We’ll get the caterers in; it’s much cheaper than having a big reception but the effect is just as good! And it will be much less of a worry to you,’ Richard had
explained to Caroline when they were making their plans. Was it true what Joyce Jordan had accused him of? Was he a ‘penny pinching skinflint?’ Or was he just being thoughtful, thinking
of the feelings of their widowed parents as well as their own?

There were times when she felt like calling the whole thing off. Only the feel of the ring on the third finger of her left hand kept her going. Soon she would be a Mrs and all her troubles would
be behind her.

It had been so good to hug Maggie when she met her in town a few weeks before the wedding. Maggie had managed to calm her down and had been delighted at being asked to be her Matron of Honour.
It had been a bit of a rush getting a dress for her, but eventually they had selected a beautiful lavender silk outfit that had made the gorgeous redhead look a million dollars. Caroline was
wearing a creation of satin and lace and she looked, as Maggie admiringly put it, ‘A real classy knock out.’

Her aunt and Rita had been extremely cool. Her father had indeed looked like a little fat penguin in his top hat and tails and had a face on him that would turn milk sour. Her mother-in-law had
sat throughout the ceremony and the meal that followed with an expression that suggested she had nothing to do with the whole affair; the boys were bored out of their minds. Richard’s aunt
was deaf and everything had to be repeated at least three times and the urbane Charles Stokes who was Richard’s best man had got quietly pissed.

Thank God for Terry and Maggie and her uncle who had laughed and chatted gaily and kept her mind off the rest of them. Because of them her wedding wasn’t a total fiasco. ‘Look at Ma
Yates; she looks as though she’s got a poker stuck up her arse!’ the irrepressible Maggie had whispered to Caroline as the photographer fussed around seating them in various poses for
the wedding photographs. In spite of herself Caroline took a fit of the giggles, causing Richard to look at her with eyebrows raised. He, to her surprise, had been quite tense throughout the day,
fussing over this and that. He had been much more nervous than she at the wedding ceremony, his fingers shaking as he placed the wedding band on her finger. Caroline had been amazed at him. She had
got to the stage where she just wished the whole ordeal was over and they were alone together. It was such a different wedding from Maggie’s and Terry’s joyful celebration.

Finally it had been time for them to leave for the airport and she had never been so glad of anything as she was at the sight of the 737 awaiting them on the tarmac. The thoughts of being alone
in Paris with her new husband were sinfully delightful.

By the time they got to Orly Airport it was after eight, so they had driven straight to the hotel and ordered dinner. Then they had gone for a short stroll along the banks of the Seine, as they
tried to relax after the tensions of the day. They didn’t talk much, just walked hand in hand, and she had been so happy when Richard had put his arm around her and kissed her tenderly under
the lamplight. ‘You’re the least complaining person I know, Mrs Yates,’ he said smiling at her.

‘I’ve nothing to complain about,’ she smiled happily. Mrs Yates, how good it sounded. She had undressed for bed in glorious anticipation.

For over three quarters of an hour Richard had skulked in the bathroom and when he finally did come out, dressed in a maroon silk dressing gown over his chocolate brown pyjamas, he had merely
brushed her forehead with his lips, saying that he was sure she was exhausted as he was, and wishing her a good night’s sleep. With that he had got into the other double bed, leaving her
twisting her wedding ring forlornly around her finger.

She was too shy to assure him she was far from exhausted, that thoughts of tonight were what had kept her going all day and as she lay in the dark, lonely and frustrated, she thought how ironic
it was, that here she was, ready and willing to lose her virginity and Devlin would give anything to reverse the loss of hers. Was she doomed to a lifetime of celibacy in spite of herself?

After sleeping fitfully, Caroline awoke around dawn, desperate for the comfort of a loving touch. Plucking up her fading courage she crept into bed beside her husband, fitting her body to the
curve of his. ‘Richard?’ she whispered.

‘Caroline!’ He sounded faintly shocked.

‘Please, Richard,’ she whispered tremulously. ‘Make love to me.’

There was a strained silence and then he turned and put his arm around her, turning her away from him. Gingerly, he eased his body against her. Caroline tried to turn and face him but he
whispered, ‘Please, Caroline, let me do it like this.’ His hands lifted up her nightdress as he pressed against her slim hips. Before she realized what he was doing he had entered her
from behind, causing her to gasp in surprised dismay. This wasn’t what she had expected at all! She felt him move rapidly against her and then it was all over and he drew away from her.
Caroline could still remember the scalding tears that slid down her cheeks on to the pillow in which she buried her face.

‘Go back to sleep, Caroline,’ Richard muttered miserably, and she could feel him lying tense beside her.

In the morning he treated her as though nothing had happened between them, urging her to dress quickly so that they could see as much of Paris as possible, and avoiding her distressed eyes. He
had shown her the sights of Paris, had been a caring and considerate companion but at night he slept in his bed and she slept in hers.

Things did not improve on their return to Dublin. They never discussed sex. It was something that rarely happened between them and always when it did, it was the same as the first time. She
never saw her husband’s face when he made love to her. Caroline blamed herself, of course. It had to be her, she reasoned. It was quite obvious she was not a sexually attractive woman capable
of giving pleasure to her husband. Had she made love to Paulo, he would probably have been disappointed too. It certainly couldn’t be Richard’s fault. Women were mad about him. At
parties he was the centre of attention with women of all ages giving him the eye and flirting madly, attracted beyond measure by the suave sophisticated charm he exuded and by his finely chiselled
handsome features. That she was envied by other women was obvious. She could see it in their eyes when she entered a room on his lightly supportive arm. He was always extremely courteous and
protective when they were out. The perfect husband!

As her self-esteem disappeared Caroline found the social scene beginning to get on top of her. They were always going somewhere. A week after the return from their honeymoon, they had given a
party for all of their friends and acquaintances who had not been to the wedding. The video of the wedding ceremony had been shown and Caroline, watching herself wide-eyed and full of anticipation
in her exquisite wedding gown, felt a hundred years older. She remembered Devlin confiding that she had been most disappointed with her first time with Colin. Maybe sex wasn’t such a big
deal, although she had certainly enjoyed her interlude with Paulo and Maggie was living proof that some women had a great love life. Maybe it would get better with time, she tried to console
herself. In the meantime her life was one big social whirl and she was getting tired of it.

All her fond notions of quiet candle-lit dinners for two at home had gone with the wind. If anything, now that they were married, Richard and she led an even more hectic social life. All the big
events were on his social calendar: The Horse Show, The Royal Dublin Carrolls Open, The Galway Races, The People of the Year Award. She had even met Jerry Hall, and ‘Blake Carrington’
from
Dynasty
, at the Budweiser Derby . . . the list of events she attended was endless.