City Woman (42 page)

Maggie had forecast that she would be a changed woman when she came back, and she was right. She had taken hold of life, just like Nell and Féile and Pat and all the other wonderful Irish
women she had met. She no longer felt a failure. She had met the challenge presented to her by fate, and met it well. She would go home to Dublin renewed and invigorated, and ready to face all the
necessary decisions. It would be a triumphant homecoming. Like the proverbial phoenix rising from the ashes, her new self would emerge and never again would she be the timid, self-effacing,
appeasing creature of before. Caroline had at last discovered a sense of worth, which was immensely liberating.

Richard had suggested that they buy another place together. He was handling being on his own very badly, but although she felt sorry for him and could empathize with what he was going through,
Caroline told him gently but firmly that her answer was no. It was almost a year and a half since she had seen her husband. The time and distance had loosened their bonds of habit and dependency.
There was no going back; she didn’t want that. She was her own woman now and nothing or no-one would change that. She would proceed with the annulment and divorce no matter what. Not that she
needed the bits of paper to tell her what she already knew. Caroline Yates was a free woman for the first time in her entire life. No-one would ever take that freedom from her again.

‘Are you going to dance?’ Mike exclaimed in exasperation.

‘Lead on, Fred Astaire. If you want dancing, then dancing you shall have.’ Caroline laughed as her partner swung her out on to the dance-floor. She felt young and carefree and happy.
She felt like dancing all night.

Thirty-Six

‘Excuse me. Sorry.’ Maggie edged her way into the crowded lift in the ILAC Centre, her arms aching from the bulky parcels she was carrying. She was doing her
Christmas shopping and she had been in town since the shops had opened at nine. When the lift disgorged some equally burdened shoppers at the first floor, she was grateful for the extra space. Down
below, she could see just how crowded the centre was. Maggie sighed, knowing that as soon as she had dumped her parcels in the boot of the car, she was going to have to go down herself and battle
her way into Dunnes. She still had to get all the children’s new outfits for Christmas Day, plus presents for her own and Terry’s nieces and nephews, not to mention his mother and her
parents and brothers and sisters.

Maggie had put her foot down when Terry asked her if she would get the presents for the girls in the office as well. He was so cool, her husband, and he had not been a bit pleased when she told
him he was lucky she was doing all the rest of the Christmas shopping. Right this minute, she was sorely tempted to go and buy gift vouchers for everybody. Still, she comforted herself, at least
she had got all the Santa toys, although she had to remember to get batteries for Shona’s Lights Alive, or there’d be tears on Christmas morning.

Maggie left the lift at the next floor. Even at nine that morning there had been a queue to get into the car-park. She didn’t like multi-storey car-parks, finding them terribly
claustrophobic, but today it was the handiest option. She had already filled the boot once before this morning.

Ten minutes later she was taking the lift down again, but rather than face the throngs in Dunnes straight away, she decided to have a cup of coffee and a croissant at La Croissanterie, go
through her list and focus on what exactly she needed. She decided, as she munched the hot snack, that she was going to stick rigidly to her list and not be side-tracked by anything else. No
browsing; just get what she needed and out. On a Saturday like today it was the only thing to do.

An hour later, as Maggie emerged through the portals of Dunnes, she felt as though she had gone ten rounds in a prize-fight but she had succeeded in her quest and once again she found herself in
the lift making the journey up to her car.

Next on her agenda was Evans, a shop that sold clothes for the larger woman. She was going to buy some nice long-sleeved cotton nightdresses for her Gran and Terry’s mum, who were both on
the stout side. A box of chocolate-covered Brazils and a cheque for twenty pounds each would complete those two presents.

She rang home to remind Terry to collect his suit from the cleaners; he’d need it that night for the office party.

‘How are the kids?’ She could hear squeals in the background.

‘Cut that out, the pair of you,’ Terry roared.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked wearily.

‘They’re arguing about one Christmas stocking being longer than the other.’

Maggie grinned. Now he knew what it was like being stuck with children who were up to ninety with excitement at the impending visit from Santa. ‘What’s Shona doing?’

‘She’s spent the entire morning kneeling in front of the fire staring up the chimney. Here she is now to say hello. She’s her daddy’s good little girl.’

‘Hello, Mammy.’ Maggie’s heart lifted at the sound of her toddler. ‘I saw Santa Plause’s fairy.’

‘Did you?’ Maggie feigned amazement. ‘I’ll be home soon and I’ve got something nice for you.’

‘For mine own self?’ Maggie could imagine Shona’s huge blue eyes getting wider. She loved getting any little treat and she’d look adorable in the little pinafore and
blouse Maggie’d bought for her.

‘For your own self,’ Maggie assured her.

‘I’d better go and separate these two before murder is committed. Whoever invented Christmas should be shot!’ Terry cut in, as the rumpus in the background got louder.

‘Don’t forget your suit,’ she reminded him again before hanging up.

Outside in the crisp, biting air, the cacophony nearly deafened her. The traders, the buskers, the carol singers all added to the unique atmospheric chaos that was Henry Street at Christmas
time.

It was a very weary Maggie who greeted Adam in the subdued elegance of Clerys Tea Rooms. They had arranged to meet there and it was such a joy to sit down and take the weight off her aching
feet.

‘You look bushed!’ Adam said sympathetically, reaching across to give her hand a squeeze.

‘I am,’ she sighed. ‘All I want to do is to go home and get into a hot bath and crawl into bed afterwards. But Terry’s office do is on tonight so I’ll just have to
glam myself up and try to get into a party mood.’

‘Poor Maggie,’ Adam said with a smile. ‘If you moved in with me that would be one less problem you’d have to worry about.’

‘How could I move in with you, Adam?’ Maggie asked irritably. ‘I’ve three children. I can’t split up our home. I can’t walk out on them. You know
that.’

‘Bring them with you,’ Adam said, so cheerfully that Maggie just had to laugh.

‘And where would we all fit in your little house?’

‘We’ll buy a bigger one. Now that you’re going to be a bestselling author, between the two of us we could manage a mansion in Howth or Killiney.’

‘I won’t be a bestselling author until this time next year – that’s if they don’t change their minds again,’ Maggie said glumly.

‘They won’t,’ he said reassuringly. ‘And anyway they did it only in your best interest.’

‘I know that, Adam. It would just have been nice to see my book on the shelves this Christmas.’

‘At least you’re being published, which is more than you can say for me,’ he said lightly.

Maggie was immediately contrite. ‘Oh Adam, I’m sorry for being such a moaning Minnie. Have you had any luck at all? You were going to phone the publishers. Did you call
them?’

Adam nodded. ‘Yep, I did.’

‘And?’

‘They’re having something called an acquisitions meeting the week before Christmas. I’ll know early in the new year.’

‘I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed for you,’ Maggie declared, ‘but at least you’ve got this far; at least your book hasn’t been returned out of
hand.’

‘Two bestselling authors: we’ll be able to afford to move to the southside,’ he teased.

Their closeness, and the tea and muffins, revived her and she was much more cheerful as they walked out the North Earl Street entrance together.

‘So, are you going to be able to come over to me at all this week?’ Adam asked, not very hopefully.

‘Well, Terry’s looking after the children all day today; knowing him, he’ll think that should let him off the hook for the rest of the week. Look, I’ll phone you on
Monday. I might say I’m having a meeting with Marcy or Sandra some afternoon next week. I’ll try to arrange for Josie to look after the children if she’ll do the extra
afternoon.’ Usually Josie was very obliging, but coming up to Christmas was always a busy time.

‘Do your best, Maggie,’ Adam urged. ‘I’ll take a half-day’s leave.’

‘You know I will,’ she promised. An afternoon all to herself with Adam, sitting in front of the fire in his bedroom and then making love in the big, old-fashioned double bed with its
gleaming brass bedstead was like the promise of paradise in her hectic life.

Adam bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips. And Maggie kissed him back, quite unaware that Marian Montclare, who was on her way into Clerys to buy her mother-in-law a Windsmoor suit, was
staring at them from the other side of the street, and in grave danger of getting lockjaw.

Thirty-Seven

‘I’m sorry Dev,’ Maggie apologized. ‘I’m a bit disorganized. We got back from Wicklow only half an hour ago.’ She was unloading a pile of
dirty clothes from a black plastic sack and stuffing it into the washing-machine.

‘Stop fussing, Maggie! I’m perfectly capable of filling a kettle and making us a cup of tea. Don’t start treating me like a guest, for God’s sake. And don’t
mention
Belfast to me!’ As Devlin spoke, she stepped over two biscuit-tins that were on the floor and began to fill the kettle.

‘Oh, I must put these out of the way,’ Maggie murmured distractedly, picking up the two tins. ‘Ma filled these up with mince-pies for me.’

‘Oh yum,’ Devlin said. ‘I have a real weakness for mince-pies.’

‘You can have them all,’ Maggie announced. ‘I’m heartily sick of turkey, ham, pudding and all the rest of it. In fact Christmas just gives me the pip!’

‘And tidings of comfort and joy to you too,’ Devlin murmured.

‘Sorry. I’ve had a sorely trying time, Dev, and I feel like exploding.’

Devlin reflected a moment. ‘Let’s see: you’ve just come home from Wicklow and you’re like a demon. Hazarding a guess, I’d say it was not all happy families on
Walton’s Mountain.’

‘You can bloody well say
that
again,’ growled Maggie. ‘How that girl isn’t half-way to the North Pole with the toe of my boot up her arse I don’t
know.’

‘Aha!’ said Devlin, ‘that could only be Sourpuss Susy. What’s your dearly beloved sister-in-law been up to this time?’ Devlin loved hearing about the antics of
Susy, Maggie’s most recently acquired sister-in-law.

‘Dearly beloved, my hat! I just can’t stand that ignorant little bitch. Christ above, I don’t know how I restrained myself. I swear I developed an ulcer in the space of a
couple of hours from trying to keep my mouth shut.’

‘Look, go in and sit down. I’ll bring you a cup of coffee and we’ll relax in the sitting-room until Terry brings the kids back from McDonald’s. You can tell me all about
what’s bugging you.’

‘But
I
invited you to stay:
I
should be making the tea,’ Maggie protested.

‘Oh, give over and go and sit down. I’ll be with you in a minute. Put the Christmas tree lights on and start the fire. We’ll enjoy a bit of peace and quiet. What time is
Caroline coming?’

‘Some time this evening; she’s gone visiting her aunt.’ Maggie couldn’t help grinning.

Devlin threw her eyes up to heaven. ‘God! Poor Caro! Imagine having to put up with
that
for the afternoon. She has her aunt, you have the dreaded Susy and I have Grandpa Delaney.
You see, we all have our little Christmas crosses to bear!’

‘Ha, ha,’ retorted Maggie dryly, but in spite of herself her mood started to lighten.

‘Here, get that inside you,’ Devlin ordered ten minutes later, handing her an Irish coffee.

Maggie’s eyes brightened. ‘What a brainwave, Devlin Delaney! Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘Oh well, you had other things on your mind; obviously Sweet Sue has surpassed herself this time. Tell us all.’ Devlin curled up on the sofa and took a sip of her drink. She loved
hearing the gossip from Wicklow.

‘Sweet Sue is right,’ Maggie snorted. ‘Although to look at her with those limpid blue eyes, you’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.’

‘What colour is the hair these days?’ Devlin enquired, dipping her little finger into the cream on her coffee and licking it.

‘Oh, it’s kind of straw-blonde highlights with a perm. I don’t know where she gets her hair done but she looks like a right little old granny.’

Devlin guffawed. ‘Sorry, Mags. It’s just that when you get going about Susy I have to laugh!’

‘I can tell you that you wouldn’t be laughing if you had her in your family, the ungracious little cow,’ Maggie retorted. ‘Honest to God, Devlin, but she had a puss on
her all over Christmas. And the rudeness of her! All I can say is, thank God I was brought up, not dragged up. Who does she think she is, going on like Lady La La with her airs and graces? What is
she but a jumped-up barmaid? Not that I’ve anything against barmaids,’ she added hastily. ‘I was one myself during my school holidays . . .’

‘Her parents bought the Wicklow Hills Lounge and Restaurant on the main road, didn’t they?’ Devlin interjected.

‘Oh they did,’ Maggie sighed. ‘You’d think it was the Horseshoe Bar in the Shelbourne the way she goes on about it. And it’s only a dirty old kip, you know. I
wouldn’t drink in it if I was paid. But sure, what other way would it be? You know her father plays poker? They haven’t a penny: whatever they make in the pub he loses at cards.

‘Her mother’s a nice woman. I feel sorry for her and Susy is no help to her at all. What Patrick saw in her I’ll never know, but she got her little claws into him good and
deep. By God, if ever there was a henpecked husband, it’s my brother Patrick. Terry overheard her about an hour after they arrived for tea at Gran’s, telling Patrick she was going
straight home whether he liked it or not. And it’s a pity she didn’t, because she ruined the evening for everyone.’