What She Wants (50 page)

‘Jamie,’ chided his mother.

‘Well, she deserves it. She’s messing Laurence about big time. The poor guy’s distraught. They’re going to lose a

fortune on the hotel deposit, not to mention the holiday deposit now that Madam wants to honeymoon in the Caribbean instead of Thailand.’

‘We can’t get involved, Jamie,’ Virginia said. ‘I refuse to be an interfering motherin-law.’

‘Mum, if Dad was alive, he wouldn’t stand for it,’ Jamie said angrily. ‘He’d back Laurence up and show him he deserved better than that stupid Barbara.’

‘He wouldn’t interfere,’ Virginia said weakly.

‘He would if he thought Laurence was going to get hurt,’ Jamie said.

Virginia had been standing by the phone in the sitting room, now she sat down heavily on the corner of the couch.

‘Mum, you’re not the only person messed up by Dad’s death,’ Jamie went on. ‘Laurence took it hardest. He was so close to Dad. You know how sensitive he is. Just because he doesn’t talk about it, doesn’t mean he isn’t miserable. He hasn’t been the same since and Barbara is the first person he’s fallen in love with. He’s totally messed up and she’s taking advantage of it. He needs us, he needs us to tell him to call the whole thing off. They’re rushing into it. Oh, there’s my mobile. I better go, Mum. I’ll call soon.’

And he was gone. Jamie always was the high-speed one of her sons, rushing everywhere, living life at ninety miles an hour. And Laurence was the quiet, sensitive one; the one who bottled up his feelings and never told anybody how he really felt.

Dinky, knowing her mistress was upset, positioned herself beside Virginia’s feet and raised her big eyes anxiously. For once, Virginia didn’t even notice. She was too shattered. All she could think was that she’d been so busy taking care of herself when Bill died that she hadn’t taken care of her sons.

As usual, talking it over with the pragmatic Mary-Kate helped.

‘I don’t know what to make of Barbara,’ Virginia moaned as they drank coffee in Mary-Kate’s cosy back office. ‘She

said she wanted a romantic proposal where Laurence produced the ring, and then, when he did, she wanted a different one because she didn’t like the one he’d chosen.’ ‘Why not pick it together in the first place?’ Mary-Kate asked. ‘That’s what most couples do nowadays.’ ‘Not Barbara. It’s like the ten labours of Hercules,’ Virginia said. ‘Barbara likes making people exert themselves on her behalf. She needs to have Laurence running around after her all the time.’ ‘How many labours has Laurence clocked up so far?’ Virginia shrugged gloomily. ‘Not enough, I daresay. Barbara probably has a list. I’m just terrified she’s one of those awful women who never want to be responsible for anything, the sort who can’t be satisfied but who never make an effort to satisfy themselves,’ Virginia said. Mary-Kate looked as if she knew exactly what her friend was talking about. ‘You know,’ Virginia continued, ‘the sort of woman who never makes a decision about anything, who plays the victim card like as if it was the Ace of Hearts in poker, and then, when it all goes wrong, spends her life telling anyone who’ll listen that it’s all his fault.’ ‘Ah, I know what you mean.’ Mary-Kate’s face was grim. ‘I knew a woman like that once. She should have had “poor me” tattooed on her forehead. She got married to this lovely man because he stood for all the things she wanted in life: money, stability, a big future. Marrying him was a career move for her, a career of being the lady of the manor. Then, when the marriage didn’t work out according to her plan, she refused to acknowledge it. There was no way she was giving up her position in life, God help her. She wanted to hold onto all the material trappings and she spent years telling anyone who’d listen that it was his fault, that he was a terrible husband and she didn’t know why she stuck with him. She’d never admit that they shouldn’t have got married in the first place.’ Mary-Kate’s eyes were filled with unshed tears.

It was obvious to Virginia that there was more to this story than met the eye. ‘They were friends of yours?’

‘I knew him at college, before he married her,’ Mary-Kate said. ‘The whole class went to the wedding and I think every single one of his friends knew he was making a big mistake. They were far too different to ever be happy together.’

Suddenly it all made sense. Mary-Kate was talking about the man in her life, the man she still mourned over. ‘You loved him?’ Virginia asked quietly.

Mary-Kate nodded. ‘We lost touch and met up a few years after he got married and we fell in love. Timing is everything, right? If we’d fallen in love before he’d met her, who knows what would have happened. Anyway, we were together for six years. We were crazy about each other.’

‘What happened?’ Virginia’s voice was gentle.

‘She found out about us, had a breakdown and begged him not to leave.’

‘And he didn’t?’

‘No.’ Mary-Kate blinked back the tears, as if she’d shed quite enough for her lover already. ‘I came down here to take over the chemist and they had another child.’ She gave a little half-shrug. ‘That’s my sordid story. I don’t look like the other woman type, do I?’

Virginia smiled softly. ‘Well, the absence of fire engine red lipstick and black silk stockings did throw me. You’re pretty good at keeping secrets, Mary-Kate.’

‘When you live in a small village, some things need to be kept secret. Nobody knows about him although I think Giselle may have guessed - she’s very intuitive. But I wouldn’t want anyone else to know. It’s better that they think I’m the spinsterish pharmacist rather than the harlot who was in love with a married man. I haven’t shocked you, have I?’ She was suddenly anxious. ‘I felt as if I could tell you but I’d hate to lose your friendship …’

Virginia fixed her with a glare. ‘If you think I’m the sort of uptight moral hypocrite who’d condemn you, then you

don’t know me very well. Aren’t you talking to Redlion’s second merry widow, who’s scandalizing the ladies in the church by having a wild fling with poor innocent Kevin Burton?’ They both laughed. The gossipmongers of the village were already on full alert at the news that Virginia often had lunch at the golf clubhouse with Kevin. ‘I’m afraid you have upset some of the local ladies who thought they might have a chance with dashing Kev,’ Mary Kate admitted. ‘Miss Murphy who does the church flowers is particularly upset and thinks you’re a brazen hussy. Her hopes of walking down the aisle for the first time at the age of sixty were scuttled when you appeared in your Dublin finery. But,’ Mary-Kate smiled, ‘rivalry over Kevin is having a good effect on my business. I’m doing a roaring trade in discreet silvery blonde hair dye since you moved in. There are plenty of women who’ve realized that if the elegant Mrs Connell can look like a film star, then there’s no reason for them to have dull grey hair. They’ll be coming to you for make-up tips soon.’ ‘You’re priceless,’ Virginia said grinning. ‘You think I’m joking, don’t you? I’m not,’ her friend retorted. ‘I’m not after Kevin, not in that way,’ Virginia said. ‘It’s just nice to have someone to play golf with.’ ‘Tell that to Miss Murphy.’

Virginia fiddled with the card Kevin had sent her for so long that she creased one corner irretrievably. She’d never been a fidgeter. Neither had Bill. They’d both been calm people. Virginia remembered when the children had been small and the little boy next door, Freddie, had stuffed four peas up his nose. ‘Oh Christ, what’ll we do?’ roared his mother, who’d been having a companionable cup of coffee with Virginia while the children laid waste to the back garden.

Virginia had calmly dropped her boys off at her friend two doors down, had taken Freddie and his mother to the doctor’s, and had them all back home in an hour, no fuss, no hysterics. Apart from a slight tantrum from Freddie when he set eyes on the instrument of torture the doctor produced to remove the peas.

Thereafter, Freddie’s mother considered Virginia to be the greatest solver of disasters in the area. When her washing machine flooded, she rang Virginia. When Freddie’s younger sister nearly electrocuted herself with the toaster and fused the entire house, she rang Virginia.

‘I hope her husband doesn’t leave,’ Bill had teased. ‘She’ll be on the phone to you like a shot.’

But Virginia’s legendary calmness had deserted her when she’d received Kevin’s card asking her to the recital. As formal as an invitation to a royal garden party, Kevin’s invitation was old-fashioned and absolutely unthreatening.

Would you be my guest on Thursday evening for a recital in Kilmonbeckin? If you can go, I’ll pick you up at seven.

So why then was Virginia terrified at the idea of meeting him in the evening? Because, she thought, evening meant a date. That would really give the church flowers ladies something to gossip about.

Virginia deliberately wore a new dress the night of the recital. It would have been wrong to wear something she’d worn for Bill - the evening would have been doomed from the start. Virginia knew that if she’d sat fingering the material of her favourite rose-coloured woollen dress and thinking of the last time she’d worn it, a dinner with dear Antonia and Michael in Howth when she and Bill had to get a taxi home after Michael had insisted they all try some of his special Armagnac, then she’d have descended into tears of guilt and depression. Not the ideal way to spend an evening. It would also have been unfair to Kevin. He’d asked her out for the night, not her and the ghost of her husband.

So she’d taken a trip into Killarney and bought a simple

pale amber dress in a soft knit fabric. She’d tried on a lovely black one, beautifully cut and very chic, but in the harsh light of the shop, Virginia realized she looked like a caricature of a widow in her weeds, so she went for the amber instead. Anyway, she thought, Bill had always hated her in black.

‘I know you love shiny things,’ he’d joke whenever she put on any of her black clothes, ‘but you don’t have to look like a magpie into the bargain.’

The combination of her silvery blonde hair and a black outfit had made her resemble a magpie, but she’d never let him away with saying it without a bit of retaliatory teasing.

‘Talking of shiny things,’ she’d say sweetly, ‘I hope you’re saving up for my Christmas pressie. Weirs have some lovely diamond chokers and they’re only a couple of hundred thousand each.’ Even if they could have afforded a diamond choker, Virginia wouldn’t have wanted one. She was totally happy with the simple pearl necklace Bill had bought her for their silver wedding.

‘Damn,’ Bill would joke. ‘I’d ordered that diamond thing for the other woman. I suppose you want one too, do you? Honestly, there’s no pleasing some women. I’ll have to ring up the Swiss bank again.’

Virginia would then throw a cushion or something at him. ‘Just as well you’re joking, my boyo,’ she’d say. Then she’d wonder was it worth changing her clothes. ‘Is black awful on me? Should I wear something else?’

‘Nothing you wear would ever look awful,’ Bill would reply. ‘You’re a stunner, Mrs Connell, do you know that?’

‘You look charming,’ Kevin said formally when he picked up her in his car at seven.

Virginia’s smile was a little strained. ‘Thank you,’ she said. This was so strange. There was none of the relaxed camaraderie they’d shared on the golf course. It was easy to chat while you were doing something sporting in broad daylight with other people around, and not so easy at all when there was just two of you in a car in the evening going on a date.

A date. The very thought of it made Virginia’s heart break. She shouldn’t need to be dating, she should be tucked up at home with Bill, doing the crossword.

They drove along in deafening silence. After a few minutes of keeping his eyes firmly on the road, Kevin cleared his throat. ‘Er, you’re very good to come along tonight,’ he said stiffly. ‘It’s nice to have a guest at these things.’

‘Yes, it is,’ said Virginia, just as stiffly. She looked out of the window into the inky night.

What are we like? she asked herself ruefully. Two ventriloquist’s dummies sitting in the car, unable to speak. Neither Bill nor Ursula could have wanted that.

So Virginia decided to chat as normal, the way they did on the golf course.

‘I’ve been practising my putting like mad,’ she said brightly. ‘My son, Jamie, sent me this carpet putter and it’s great. Once you shoot the ball at it, it whizzes it back across the carpet to you. Dinky loves it. She thinks it’s for her and keeps chasing the golf ball.’

Kevin smiled. ‘Those things are addictive,’ he said. ‘Ursula bought me one once and I spent hours playing with it. It’s probably stuck in the attic now. I bet Bill had one too?’

Virginia tried to remember. ‘Not that I can recall, but he probably did although I don’t know what became of it, if so. He had everything. If they made golf oven gloves, we’d have had them too.’

‘You mean you don’t have golf oven gloves?’ Kevin said, doing his best to sound surprised. ‘Mine are my most prized possession.’

And they were off, chatting and laughing, friends again instead of dummies.

Ursula had been a brilliant putter, Kevin said fondly. She’d won so many matches with marvellous puts.

‘She sounds like she was a marvellous golfer,’ Virginia said.

‘Oh she was, she was.’

The big modern hall was buzzing with people when they

got there, all clutching the glass of sickly mulled wine that the organizers thought would bring people out in droves on a cool April evening. Virginia handed Kevin a glass. One mulled wine would be good for him. He needed to relax. ‘Kevin,’ called a voice from the throngs of Sunday best people waiting to be told to take their seats. ‘Glenys, Richard, how nice to see you,’ Kevin said, greeting a couple effusively. Glenys, a matronly sixty-something resplendent in fur and a frosted hairdo, hugged Kevin before turning to cast a mauve-eyeshadowed stare over Virginia. ‘Hello,’ Virginia said warmly, ‘I’m Virginia Connell, I’m a friend of Kevin’s.’ ‘Glenys and Richard Smart,’ Glenys said coolly. ‘We’re very old friends of Kevin’s. And Ursula’s,’ she added with a determined lift to her chin. Oh dear, thought Virginia, her smile never faltering. So that’s the way the cookie crumbles. Loyal to the memory of our dear, dead friend, we don’t want any mucky widow from Dublin getting her hands on the grieving widower. ‘How nice to meet you both,’ Virginia said. Bill had often teased her that she was an expert at being outwardly polite to people she didn’t like. Richard nodded hello. Glenys turned away and took one of Kevin’s hands in hers. ‘Dear Kevin, how are you?’ It was a nightmarish evening. Glenys managed the seating plan so that Virginia and Kevin were separated, with Virginia sitting at the outside of their row beside a monosyllabic Richard. Hemmed in by Richard and Glenys, Kevin couldn’t exactly reach over and speak to Virginia, which was probably Glenys’s plan all along. At the interval, Glenys sighed loudly and said that the tragedy was that poor Ursula wasn’t here to listen to the concert. ‘She so loved recitals,’ Glenys said wistfully, squeezing Kevin’s hand. ‘Do you remember that lovely night we all