City Lives (25 page)

‘I’m sure we will,’ Maggie responded with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

‘Great. Why don’t you call my secretary early next week to schedule a meeting. It was nice talking to you. I’m looking forward to seeing you. I must rush. I have an
acquisitions meeting to attend. It’s my first,’ Miranda bubbled.

‘Enjoy it,’ Maggie murmured. ‘Bye.’

She stared at the phone as Miranda clicked off. There was only one thing for it. A Big Mac Meal . . . Large.
And
ice-cream in caramel sauce. Either that or get thoroughly pissed. And
how could she do that with three children?

‘Come on,’ she yelled up the stairs. ‘We’re going to buy shoes for Shona and have a MacDonald’s in Blanchardstown.’

‘I don’t want to go, Mam,’ Mimi yelled back. ‘Rachel and I are doing a project. She’s coming over in a few minutes.’

‘You can do it when we get back. We’ll only be gone an hour or so. We’ll call in and tell her on the way.’

‘We’ll be gone more than an hour, Mam. We’ll be gone ages. It’s not fair, I don’t want to go,’ Mimi whined.

‘Mimi, get your ass down here now and let’s get out of here, pronto,’ Maggie roared. ‘Rachel can come another day.’

‘There’s no need to use swear-words. You’re always giving out to us for using swear-words. You should practise what you preach,’ Mimi said snootily from the landing.

‘Just don’t push me today, Mimi Ryan. I’m warning you,’ Maggie snapped, at the end of her tether.

‘There’s no need to go ballistic! Chill out, Mam,’ her daughter said pertly as she sauntered down the stairs.

‘I’ll slap your face good and hard if you speak to me like that again, you cheeky little brat. Do you hear me? You impudent little wagon,’ Maggie exploded, her hands itching to
thump her elder daughter.

Mimi burst into tears at the unexpected vehemence of the retort and the fury in her mother’s eyes.

Maggie burst into tears as she realized how out of control she was and just how close she’d been to venting her frustration on Mimi and slapping her hard.

Shona burst into tears because her mother and sister were crying and she hated raised voices and rows.

Michael stood by looking helplessly at the trio, his eyes wide with panic.

‘I’m sorry, Mimi, I shouldn’t have said that.’ Maggie tried to compose herself.

‘I’m sorry too, Mammy, I didn’t mean it. Really I didn’t. I love you, Mammy.’ Mimi flung herself into Maggie’s arms and hugged her tightly, her thin childish
arms like two vices around her waist.

This made Maggie cry even harder and she held her daughter close, trying to swallow her sobs. She knew she was frightening her children. It was the worst thing in the world to see your parents
crying.

‘Mammy, are you all right?’ Shona asked anxiously between sobs.

‘Now look what you did, Miss Mimi,’ Michael accused gruffly. ‘It’s all your fault for being cheeky. You made Mammy cry.’

‘You leave me alone, Michael Ryan.’ Mimi howled even louder.

‘Shush, shush, stop now. Come here, Shone, stop crying, pet.’ She drew Shona into her embrace.
Get a grip, Maggie
, she pleaded silently and, with an immense effort of will,
she composed herself. ‘Come on now. I’m sorry I lost my temper. We’ll go over to Blanchdardstown and have a nice time out for ourselves. We’ll buy new shoes for Shona, new
jeans for Michael, and a sweatshirt in Paco for Mimi. And then we’ll have a MacDonald’s. OK?’ She gave a weak smile.

‘Are you sure you’re all right, Mammy?’ Shona asked anxiously, raising a tear-stained face to hers.

‘Yes, pet. I’m OK. Don’t be worrying. Quick now, run up and get ready so that we’re not heading into the rush-hour traffic,’ she urged.

Subdued, they hurried upstairs. Maggie followed tiredly. She went into the
en suite
in her bedroom and closed the door. Leaning against the plane of the door, she felt it cool against
her forehead. Tears brimmed up again and she thrust her face in her hands and cried as quietly as she could.

How could her life be in such a mess? How could she come so close to losing control that she had almost walloped her daughter? She knew kids could push you to the limit. But this had been too
close for comfort.

To hell with the novel, if she didn’t get it done in time, she didn’t get it done. She’d have to ease off. It wasn’t worth it when the children started to suffer.

But it wasn’t just that. It was Orla’s casual abuse of her, and Terry’s me, me, me attitude. It wasn’t as if he had to eat a takeaway that often, she thought
resentfully.

‘I’m sick, sick, sick of him,’ she muttered, wiping the tears from her cheeks. He took her so much for granted. It was as if the separation had never happened. He knew she
wouldn’t put the children through that trauma a second time. As far as he was concerned, he was as safe as houses. Maggie could look after him. Cook for him, feed him, wash and iron, and look
after his house and his children and he could just sit back and take it all for granted. She could have a humdinger of a row about it with him and point out all her grievances. But what was the
use? They’d been through it before, many times. It was water off a duck’s back, at this stage and not worth her energy.

She started to cry again. God, she was really losing it, she thought in desperation. She needed this like a hole in the head. She ran cold water into the basin, soaked her face-cloth in it and
patted it along her face and neck. Her heart was racing. If she wasn’t careful she’d be having palpitations. Stress and panic attacks. Perfect! What more could she wish for? The woman
who had everything.

One thing was for damn sure, she was going to enjoy every minute of Powerscourt Springs with the girls. She was going to have every treatment she could possibly have. To hell with the cost.
She’d worked hard to make her money from her novels – she was going to spend some of it on herself for once. The royalty cheque had arrived just in time.

At least that weekend was coming up soon. She needed it badly, because once that was over, she was going to have to make her Christmas cake and puddings, not to mention starting her Christmas
shopping, so as to have time to entertain the Al Shariffs. She must tell Josie, her cleaner, to give the guest room and
en suite
a thorough going-over. She could start the Christmas
cleaning a few weeks early too, Maggie decided, as she made up her face to cover the ravages of her weeping fit.

But now she was going to spend time with her children. Maybe Orla had done her a favour after all. Orla could go to hell. The novel could go on the back burner for a while. It was time to get
her priorities straight.

Maggie was tired when they got home from Blanchardstown, but she was happier. She’d taken the children to the pictures, much to their delight. As they sank back into the
plush chairs of the big cinema with their popcorn, M&Ms and Coke, the anticipation on their faces and their pleasure at the unexpected treat went a long way towards restoring her equilibrium.
Afterwards they’d gone to Clark’s to buy shoes, and to Paco for Mimi’s much desired sweatshirt, then finally to Dunnes for Michael’s jeans. After that, as another little
treat, she’d taken them to HMV to buy a CD each. They’d spent ages flicking through the racks, although Shona knew straight away that she wanted the Spice Girls. Mimi dithered between
Robbie Williams and Celine Dion.

Michael couldn’t make up his mind until he saw the Venga Boys and then he was happy. They sat in MacDonald’s munching their burgers, all thoughts of the earlier upset forgotten as
they discussed the film, their new CDs and what they were going to get for Christmas.

‘You’re very late. Where were you? I thought you were going shopping for shoes,’ Terry growled when they walked into the sitting-room at nine thirty.

‘We went late-night shopping, Daddy, an’ Mammy took us to the pictures. An’ then we went to HMV an’ got CDs an’
then
we went to MacDonald’s an’
had a Big Mac an’ now here we are,’ Shona kindly explained.

‘What’s all this in aid of?’ He glanced at Maggie.

She shrugged. ‘Shona needed new shoes. Michael needed new jeans and Mimi needed a new sweatshirt so we went shopping and decided to treat ourselves as well.’

‘I hope all the homework is done,’ Terry said sternly.

Maggie felt fury rise. The nerve of him to say that. Who was it that did homework with the kids day in day out? Her. He was never there for homework. He was just saying that for spite, to get
back at her for slamming the phone down earlier. With difficulty she kept her temper.

‘The homework was done as soon as everyone came in from school, as usual,’ she said pointedly.

‘Yeah an’ Michael could do sums that Sean Noonan couldn’t an’ they’re in the same class, Daddy,’ Shona piped up proudly.

‘Were the Noonans here this afternoon? Billy Noonan called over. He wanted a word with you. I said you were out,’ Terry remarked casually as he flicked channels from the settee where
he was sprawled.

‘Oh!’ Maggie was surprised. What on earth did Billy Noonan want with her? she thought, puzzled. Then she remembered. Her heart sank. Surely Orla hadn’t sent him up because of
the row. Wasn’t she well able to fight her own battles? The pair of them could get lost. She had enough on her plate, Maggie thought irritably.

‘Come on, gang. It’s late and there’s school tomorrow. Go up and get ready for bed. Michael, you go into our
en suite
and let Mimi and Shona have the bathroom,’
she instructed. ‘Say good night to Daddy.’

They launched themselves on Terry with hugs and kisses.

‘Tell you what? When lucky old Mam goes away on her girls’ weekend we’ll go to Fort Lucan for the day. How about it?’ he suggested.

Howls of delight greeted this pronouncement and Maggie felt a stab of resentment. Typical Terry. His rare treats were always so spectacular they eclipsed her more mundane efforts, and were
always much more appreciated by the children.

Don’t be such a childish bitch
, she chided herself silently, annoyed at her response.

‘Dad, Fort Lucan’s MEGA.’ Michael was chuffed. ‘When are you going away, Mam?’ He turned to her eagerly.

‘Soon.’ Maggie smiled in spite of herself.

‘Great,’ he enthused. ‘Night, Dad. I can’t wait.’

‘Or me,’ echoed his siblings as they smothered their father with more kisses.

‘Come on. Up to bed.’ Maggie interrupted the love-in. She’d planned on cooking and freezing dinners for her weekend away but he was such a wonderful father he could do a bit of
real parenting and cook himself, she decided there and then. And to really prove himself, he could do the supermarket shopping that weekend as well.

About twenty minutes later, as she was kneeling at the sock drawer getting clean socks and tights for everyone, the doorbell rang. Who’s that at this hour of the night? she wondered
absently as she took out two pairs of navy woollen tights for the girls and a pair of grey socks for Michael. If someone was selling charity scratch cards at this late hour they should be shot. If
there was an old person living alone they might get a fright being disturbed at this time of night.

She heard Terry answer the door. Heard a man’s deep voice. Her heart lurched as she recognized it. Billy Noonan.

She slipped quietly out of the girls’ room and closed the door. Michael’s light was already off. He was exhausted. Good! She didn’t want her children to know anything of the
row with Orla. That was between adults. As far as she was concerned her children could play with the Noonans for ever and a day.

Terry was just about to call her as she appeared at the top of the stairs.

‘Billy wants a word with you. Come in, Billy. Stop standing there, man. Would you like a drink?’

‘No thanks, Terry. This isn’t a social visit,’ Billy said frostily. He stared coldly at Maggie from behind heavy black glasses.

‘Oh! Sounds serious. What’s up?’ Terry said jocularly.

‘Billy come in out of the hall, please,’ Maggie said coolly and marched into the sitting-room. Her neighbour had no option but to follow. Terry brought up the rear.

‘Close the door please, Terry,’ Maggie said politely.

‘Oh! Right.’ Terry was mystified. ‘Do you want me to go?’

‘Not at all.’ Maggie felt icy calm. How
dare
Billy Noonan come calling at this hour, obviously intending to have a go at her. He’d picked the wrong woman to tangle
with. She’d seen off a drug-crazed mugger in New York, in her youth. Billy Noonan stood no chance, she thought dismissively, as a spark of the old Maggie returned.

‘What’s your problem, Billy?’

‘You called my wife a liar today,’ Billy said truculently, his hands on his hips.

‘Oh now, Billy, I’m sure there’s some explanation,’ Terry interjected hastily. ‘It must be a misunderstanding, Maggie would never call Orla a liar.’

‘Yes I would. And yes I did,’ Maggie said coldly, ignoring her husband as she eyeballed Billy.

‘So you did? You don’t deny it,’ Billy growled.

‘What the bloody hell did you do that for?’ Terry exclaimed in dismay.

‘Because it’s true.’ Maggie rounded on him, furious at his lack of support.

‘That wasn’t a very nice thing to do,’ Terry accused. Maggie gave him a withering look.

She turned back to her neighbour, who stood red-faced and hostile, staring at her.

‘You’d better apologize for that, Maggie. I won’t stand here and let you call Orla a liar.’

‘Why? What are you going to do, Billy?’ she demanded aggressively. ‘Now you listen to me, and listen well. I called Orla Noonan a liar because she is one. And you know that as
well as I do. I did her a favour today as I’ve done many times over the years. I picked your kids up from school and she told me she’d be here to collect them in twenty minutes. Over an
hour and a half later, Billy . . . do you hear me?
An hour and a half later
, she arrived with some cock-and-bull story about getting stuck behind a broken-down car in the ILAC. It was one
of her better lies, I’ll grant you that. But she’d already told it to Judy next door, a couple of months back. And if you care to, we can ring the ILAC first thing in the morning and
check the veracity of Orla’s story. I’m sure they keep logs of any such occurrences.’ Her eyes sparked with anger as she glared at Billy.