Mirror, Mirror Page 13

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘I’m telling you. Vincent looked after the deal. It’s all signed, sealed and delivered. So they’re in the money again.’

  ‘But for how long?’ Gillian said dryly. ‘You know Tom’s fondness for the horses.’

  ‘I know,’ Emma agreed. ‘I don’t know how Margaret puts up with it. I’d hate to live with a gambler.’

  ‘Darling, you’d have it spent before Vincent got time to gamble it,’ Gillian retorted.

  ‘Just as well he’s got plenty to spend,’ Emma said airily. ‘Have more Moët or do you prefer Bollinger? There’s plenty of both, so drink up. Talk to you later.’ She glided over to her mother and aunt, who were chatting to Sheila.

  ‘Sometimes she’s insufferable,’ Gillian said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Oh come on, let’s get another bottle,’ Diana urged. ‘There’s no point in leaving it there. And I’m going to have more salmon. If you can’t beat them, join them.’

  That’s because you’re easily impressed, Diana Mackenzie. You’ve no class! Gillian wouldn’t lower herself. If Diana and Frank wanted to make gluttons of themselves, that was up to them.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she said coolly. ‘But do go ahead by all means. I know you adore champagne.’

  Diana got up and headed for the buffet. Gillian could be such a moody madam. They were at a party. There was loads of booze and food. What was the point in sitting there like a prune, just because she was mad with Emma for outdoing her bash. Diana spooned some scallops onto her plate. They looked delicious. She helped herself to some more. Gillian didn’t know what she was missing, she thought crossly, annoyed because her friend had made her feel like a greedy lush.

  Sheila watched Mick and the Judge laughing heartily and envied them. Her husband was at ease in any company, she thought fondly. It was all the same to Mick if you were a prince or a pauper, he’d find something to talk to you about. He took people as they were and wasn’t at all impressed by the trappings of high society.

  She felt uncomfortable with Pamela and Katherine. Katherine in particular had none of her sister’s charm. She was much more aloof and stand-offish than Pamela. Her brittleness was extremely off-putting and she’d such a clipped way of speaking. To think that she was Stephanie’s grandmother. She might not be so snooty if she knew her son had an illegitimate child that he’d never accepted any responsibility for.

  Sheila glanced at her watch, it was after two. How long would she have to stay before she could leave without seeming rude? Most of the people here were posh friends of Emma and Vincent. They might be posh, she comforted herself, but they didn’t have land and property like her and Mick. If she and her husband wanted to, they could go and dine in the Russell and the Shelbourne any time they liked. They could hobnob in dozens of fancy restaurants if they cared to.

  Half of them probably couldn’t cook anyway. No wonder Pamela and Katherine were as thin as knitting needles. They never had home-cooked food. Look at Emma, feeding her family out of tins and packets. The thought of her superiority over the South Dublin brigade was comforting to Sheila’s spirit. She had to admit that the chef who’d cooked the buffet had done a good job. She might as well make the most of her day off, she decided. The lemon cheesecake looked luscious. Sheila edged her way over to the buffet and helped herself to an extra-large slice. She deserved it.

  ‘You know, Ellen, your sister-in-law can really cook. Do you think she’s got any building jobs that need doing?’ Doug inquired as he helped himself to seconds.

  ‘She didn’t cook this, you idiot.’ Ellen laughed at the idea. ‘Emma can’t cook an egg. She got someone in to do it.’

  ‘Oh! And here I was thinking that Vincent was a lucky man. She can’t cook! I couldn’t marry a woman who couldn’t cook.’

  ‘You’re managing fine without one,’ Ellen snorted.

  ‘Ah but it’s a sad and lonely life and my poor tum longs for home-cooked grub.’

  ‘I’ll be crying in a minute,’ Ellen jeered.

  ‘Your sister is a hard-hearted woman, Ben.’ Doug winked.

  ‘Doug, stick to your guns. I married a woman who can cook and I’ve had a very good life, and so has my stomach – as you can see,’ Ben guffawed.

  ‘You’ll be doing a lot more cooking when I’m working,’ Miriam interjected.

  ‘Not at all. Won’t you be bringing home lovely nosh from The Deli?’

  ‘You’re not going to eat our profits, Ben Munroe,’ Ellen warned.

  ‘Don’t mind him, Ellen.’ Miriam smiled serenely. ‘Our profits are going where they belong. Into our saving accounts.’

  ‘I’d say we’re eating a hell of a lot of Vincent’s profits today.’ Ben grinned.

  ‘It’s a tasty feast whoever cooked it.’ Doug ate a stuffed mushroom with relish. ‘That one in the purple get-up is really enjoying it too. You should have seen the plateful of scallops she took.’

  ‘Doug! Don’t be so pass-remarkable,’ Ellen chided.

  ‘Well, it’s the truth. She might have a dead posh accent but her manners leave a lot to be desired. She snaffled the last piece of buttered brown bread right from under my nose,’ Doug said indignantly. The others laughed.

  Ellen was glad she’d invited Doug. He got on well with Ben and Miriam and they were having a great laugh. Her discomfort over Katherine Wallace’s presence had eased. There were plenty of guests mingling around. Ellen had no trouble avoiding Stephanie’s grandmother. Besides, the woman didn’t know about her. She sipped her champagne and felt herself relax. She’d had mixed feelings about coming to Andrew’s christening. But now that she was here, with Doug, it wasn’t too bad at all. In fact she was rather enjoying it. She was daft to have worried about it at all.

  Katherine Wallace toyed with a mussel on her plate. She wasn’t really hungry. It was a very nice meal. Emma and Vincent had gone to a lot of trouble and hadn’t stinted on anything, Katherine thought approvingly, but she wasn’t in the mood for a party.

  She was uncomfortable knowing that she had an unacknowledged grandchild in the same house. Poor Sheila Munroe didn’t know where to look and what to say to her or Pamela. The conversation had been stilted and awkward. The girl, or rather woman as she was now, that Christopher had got into trouble seemed happy enough with that nice bearded man she was with. She was certainly better off with him than she would have been if she’d ended up with Christopher. Maybe the Almighty had broken a bigger cross for her, Katherine reflected as she studied the dark-haired woman laughing with her friends.

  Emma had certainly struck gold with Vincent Munroe. She’d had her doubts about that wedding, admittedly. She’d never heard of the Munroes. Socially the families weren’t on a par, but Vincent knew how to conduct himself and he’d become extremely successful. And they seemed very much in love with each other after years of marriage, Katherine thought enviously as she watched them slip out of the room hand in hand.

  She’d never really known what it was to be loved. She’d loved Jeffrey, very much. But he had never really loved her . . . or desired her. It was a bitter cup to drink from. No matter how much she tried to bury it, it kept edging into her consciousness as if to say I’m here, deal with me. She didn’t want to deal with it. She didn’t want to look back and see how much she’d failed. She didn’t want to admit that she was a sour elderly woman whose life, behind the superficial façade of social success, was empty and unfulfilled. She was too old now to have a great love affair. To have the passion she’d missed. Why had she been so afraid of it? Why couldn’t Jeffrey have loved her? Why even after all these years did it still cause her pain?

  She’d want to stop all this nonsense and put the past behind her, Katherine thought wearily. But it was difficult, especially when her youngest son was behaving so like Jeffrey. It brought back all the misery and made her feel a complete and utter failure.

  ‘It seems to be going OK, doesn’t it, Vincent?’ Emma gave her husband a quick hug. They were opening mor
e wine in the kitchen. The lunch was over and the guests were nicely relaxed. Diana Mackenzie had drunk one glass of champagne too many and was giggling like a schoolgirl.

  ‘It’s going fine, petal. Stop worrying. Look at our two dads – they’re going over every fish they’ve ever caught and the battle they had to catch them gets more fierce with every telling.’ Vincent laughed as he uncorked a bottle of red wine.

  ‘It’s a pity that I had to ask Aunt K, but Mother said she would have felt very snubbed if I hadn’t. If she didn’t know about Stephanie it wouldn’t be so bad. What dreadful timing for her to find out.’

  ‘Emma, stop fretting. It’s not your fault that Chris is a rat, and your Aunt Katherine is Stephanie’s grandmother. It’s her problem and she’ll have to deal with it. It’s awkward for all of them, Mam included. There’s nothing we can do about it except hope that they’re having as nice a time here as they can,’ Vincent pointed out firmly. ‘Ellen’s not letting it bother her.’

  She wouldn’t, Emma thought crossly.

  ‘Come on. It’s a great party. The food was out of this world. Relax and enjoy it.’ Vincent enfolded his wife in a hug and kissed her tenderly.

  ‘Gillian’s so miffed,’ Emma grinned. ‘When I told her the seafood was fresh off the trawlers in Howth, she was fit to be tied. You wouldn’t catch me serving chicken supreme and salads. She hasn’t a clue really.’

  ‘She’s her own worst enemy. She’s always trying to keep up with the Joneses – or rather in this case the Munroes. Life’s too short.’

  ‘Well, I’m just glad we’ve plenty of money to throw decent parties. I’d hate it if we hadn’t,’ Emma admitted. ‘I’ll have to put my thinking cap on for our New Year one.’

  ‘Get over this one first,’ Vincent advised.

  ‘You’re right. And hasn’t Andrew been such a treasure? Everyone thinks he’s gorgeous.’

  ‘He’s not gorgeous, Mummy! He keeps farting.’ Julie Ann marched into the kitchen.

  ‘Julie Ann!’ Emma was horrified. ‘What a dreadful word. If you have to say that, say windy-popping. Anddon’tsay things likethatincompany.’

  ‘Well, he does keep farting.’ Julie Ann ignored her mother’s dictate. ‘We’re trying to play The Sound of Music. I’m Maria, and he keeps exploding in his pram and the others all laugh and it’s very annoying,’ she declared indignantly.

  Vincent turned his back. He was afraid he was going to burst out laughing.

  ‘What do you want?’ Emma changed tack.

  ‘I wanted some more Toy Town biscuits.’

  ‘Please,’ Vincent reminded.

  ‘Please,’ Julie Ann said irritably.

  ‘Don’t make yourselves sick,’ Emma warned as she filled another plateful.

  ‘Of course we won’t, Mummy.’ Julie Ann grabbed the plate and hurried back to entertain her guests in the playroom.

  ‘Poor little Andrew. He certainly won’t get a swelled head with his adoring sister around.’

  ‘She’ll adjust,’ Vincent soothed. ‘Come on. Let’s get back to our guests. They’ll all think we’re smooching in the kitchen.’

  ‘Hmmmm,’ murmured Emma as she entwined her arms around his neck. ‘I love to smooch.’

  ‘Me too,’ grinned her husband as his arms tightened around her in preparation for a serious smooch.

  ‘I can have two and even four if I want. This is my house and my party and he’s my baby brother.’ Julie Ann scowled at her cousins. She’d been handing around the Toy Town biscuits and had taken two for herself, much to their annoyance.

  ‘You’re just a greedy guts, Julie Ann Munroe,’ Rebecca declared.

  ‘I am not!’ Julie Ann was outraged at the slur. ‘I told you, it’s my party.’

  ‘It’s not your party, it’s Andrew’s,’ Stephanie corrected her. ‘And your Guardian Angel can see you being greedy. She saw you putting a biscuit in your pocket and so did I.’

  ‘You just shut up, Stephanie Munroe. And mind your own business. You’re only jealous ’cos you don’t have a baby.’

  ‘No I’m not.’

  ‘Yes you are. And I know something you don’t know.’

  ‘No you don’t.’

  ‘Yes I do.’

  ‘OK. What is it then?’

  ‘I’m not telling.’

  ‘See. See. You don’t know,’ Stephanie declared triumphantly.

  ‘Yes I do. I know who your other nannie is!’ Julie Ann stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at her cousin.

  ‘I don’t have another nannie. I’ve only got Nannie Sheila.’

  ‘You do have another nannie! I heard my mummy and daddy talking about her.’

  ‘Have I?’ Stephanie was unsure. ‘I think you’re telling fibs, Julie Ann Munroe. Liar! Liar! Pants on fire!’

  ‘I am not telling lies!’ Julie Ann was stung at the unfairness of the accusation. ‘You come with me, Stephanie Munroe, and I’ll show you your other nannie. She’s in our house, you know.’

  ‘Well, I don’t believe you,’ Stephanie retorted, hating the idea of her cousin knowing something about her that she didn’t.

  ‘Come on, let’s go to the dining-room and I’ll show you. You can see with your own two eyes if you don’t believe me,’ Julie Ann challenged.

  ‘Can I come?’ Rebecca asked.

  ‘You can all come,’ Julie Ann said importantly. ‘Except Andrew. He can stay in his pram.’ She didn’t want Andrew taking away from her spotlight.

  Like the Pied Piper, she led her curious cousins across the hall towards the dining-room. She took Stephanie by the hand and led her in, scanned the room, found who she was looking for and marched over to stand in front of Katherine Wallace.

  ‘That’s your other nannie, Stephanie! See, I told you!’ she declared triumphantly at the top of her voice, conscious of her audience. Julie Ann smiled happily, delighted to be the centre of attention.

  Heads turned in their direction and a horrified hush descended on the assembled guests as Julie Ann’s loudly spoken words penetrated their chatter.

  ‘Julie Ann!’ Emma nearly fainted. ‘Vincent, do something!’ she hissed.

  ‘Are you my nannie?’ Stephanie fixed Katherine Wallace with a curious stare.

  ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph,’ Ellen whispered, rooted to the spot.

  Sheila went pale.

  Katherine wanted to sink through the floor. Thanks to that obnoxious child of Emma’s the gossip about Christopher’s love child would spread through their set like wildfire. He had put her in an impossible position.

  She looked at the little girl standing in front of her. It wasn’t the child’s fault. And not, by the flicker of an eyelash, was she going to let these people see how upset she was. Poise was everything. She was noted for her poise. She’d been in worse situations than this. Jeffrey’s mistresses had often been invited to the same parties that she’d been at and she’d always handled that with aplomb. Taking a deep breath she said clearly, for all to hear, ‘Yes, Stephanie. I’m your grandmother. It’s about time we met.’

  She took Stephanie by the hand and walked over to Ellen. ‘How do you do, Ellen?’

  Ellen, dry-mouthed, took the outstretched hand. It felt thin and bony in her own. Katherine’s blue eyes stared into hers. She didn’t know what to say to the woman.

  ‘How do you do?’ she murmured awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry about this.’

  ‘Well, maybe about the circumstances of our meeting, but may I congratulate you on your beautiful little girl. Perhaps you might bring her to visit some day?’

  Oh no! Ellen groaned inwardly. ‘Certainly,’ she agreed.

  ‘If you’re my nannie, what’s my daddy’s name?’ Stephanie inquired interestedly.

  You could have heard a pin drop as Katherine, two red spots of mortification staining her cheeks, stared down at her grandchild.

  ‘His name is Christopher, dear.’

  ‘Like Christopher Robin? Me an’ Nannie Sheila always sing that song.’

  There was
a sympathetic titter from the guests.

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ Katherine said calmly.

  ‘Right,’ Vincent interposed. ‘All children back to the playroom. We’re going to play Musical Chairs.’

  ‘Goody!’

  ‘Brillo!’

  ‘Yippee!’

  Assorted cries of delight and a stampede back to the playroom ensued.

  ‘We’ll talk again, Ellen, this isn’t the time or the place,’ Katherine said quietly.

  ‘I am sorry about this, Mrs Wallace,’ Ellen said miserably.

  ‘Please, don’t distress yourself. Now go and enjoy the rest of the party. Emma, I think I’d like to go home. Perhaps you’d be good enough to call a taxi for me.’

  ‘We’ll bring you home, Katherine,’ Pamela said firmly. ‘We brought you.’

  ‘No . . . no, really, Pamela, I’d prefer to be alone.’ Katherine shook her head.

  ‘I’ll call a taxi now,’ Emma murmured. She was in a state. She could murder Julie Ann. In fact she probably would, she decided as she phoned for a taxi. She’d been watching Diana and Gillian. Their faces were a study. Gillian had practically got lockjaw. Now it would be all over town about Chris and Ellen. She’d better warn him, she thought angrily, although he certainly didn’t deserve that courtesy.

  Sheila walked into the hall. She was pale with fury and dismay. ‘It’s really time you did something about Julie Ann, Emma. She has no manners whatsoever. I’ve never seen such a display,’ she said sharply.

  ‘Mind your own business!’ Emma exploded.

  ‘Well, I can see where she gets her bad manners from. I’ll never set foot in this house again,’ Sheila raged. ‘I’ll get Mick and we’ll go.’

  Emma burst into tears.

  Gillian and Diana, who’d overheard the row, looked at each other in delight. This was the best ever! Who’d have thought that Chris Wallace had a love child with Emma’s sister-in-law? This was the juiciest of gossip. They couldn’t wait to spread the news.

  The party was in disarray. Emma was weeping. Guests were starting to leave. Andrew Munroe’s christening do was the best bash they’d been at in ages, the two girls assured each other gleefully, as they drank another glass of champagne and observed the dramas unfolding around them.