Mirror, Mirror Read online

  Chris Wallace had never felt so angry in his life. The further he’d driven from Ellen’s the angrier he’d become. How dare she turf him out as if he was just some piece of flotsam! How dare that creep she was with more or less threaten him! Just where did he get off, this Doug guy? How could Ellen want to be with him?

  Chris shook his head in disbelief as he drove at speed along the back roads. He didn’t care if he crashed. That would give Ellen something to think about. If he was killed in a smash-up then she’d be sorry, Chris thought self-pityingly as he scorched around a narrow bend forcing another car to pull in sharply. The driver blared his horn and shook his fist.

  ‘Up yours,’ Chris snarled, unimpressed.

  How could Ellen reject him the way she just had? Never in a million years had he expected that Ellen Munroe would shut him out of her life. Even a few months ago when she’d told him that it was over, he’d thought it was a phase she was going through. Women could get funny ideas into their heads. He’d called her bluff. Stayed away. He’d even started a little fling with Alexandra Johnston, his wife Suzy’s best friend.

  Well, it hadn’t actually happened like that. He hadn’t initiated the affair. Alexandra had. She’d thrown herself at him. It wasn’t a huge surprise to him. He had a way with women. He liked them. They found him attractive. What was a man supposed to do? He’d always been of the opinion that you should take your chances as you found them. Fidelity was overrated. Men were different to women. Their biological drives were much stronger and, if women were going to flaunt themselves at him, he was no saint and he never had been. They all knew that. Ellen, Suzy, Alexandra.

  Ellen knew him better than anyone. And he’d thought he knew her. He’d thought she was happy being with him again. Their times together had been loving and immensely satisfying. It had been a huge shock to him when she’d said she wanted to end it. She’d gone all moral, saying she didn’t like the lies and deceit. She’d even thrown his marriage in his face, saying he had responsibilities to Suzy and his kids. She’d known all that when she took him back. Her scruples hadn’t mattered then, Chris thought angrily as he pulled into a lay-by at the back of the airport and watched a Viscount take off. He wished he was on the bloody plane.

  A couple in the next car were snogging passionately. He and Ellen had often come here to court years ago. He felt horny thinking about it. He’d been so sure that he and Ellen would end up in bed tonight. He’d been longing for it. The sex with Alexandra was good enough but he knew it wouldn’t last. Alexandra was a cold fish. She’d none of Ellen’s warmth. He’d loved making love to Ellen. She was so giving and passionate. Had she slept with that bearded bastard of a builder? Jealousy seared his heart. How could she let another man touch her? How could she kiss anyone else? Would she whisper the kind of endearments that she’d whispered to him to that other fucker? A builder! Was that the best she could do? Chris was so angry he wanted to drive back to Glenree and smash his fist into that smug bastard’s jaw. How dare he stand there issuing threats! Who the hell did he think he was? Showing off for Ellen. No doubt she’d been listening upstairs, lapping it up.

  Well, it wasn’t over. It wasn’t over by any manner of means. Ellen loved him. He was the father of her child. Stephanie was theirs. And nothing would change that. He had every right to get to know his own daughter, Chris thought self-righteously. He’d be able to find out from Emma, his first cousin, what was going on. Emma was married to Ellen’s brother Vincent. Emma would be his spy in the camp. Oh no, Ellen had not seen the back of him. Not by a long shot, Chris vowed as he started the engine and headed for Alexandra’s pad.

  Alexandra Johnston raised an eyebrow as her doorbell shrilled impatiently. She glanced out the window. Chris’s red Peugeot was parked down in the car park.

  How flattering, she thought smugly. He couldn’t keep away. They hadn’t made an arrangement to meet tonight. He and Suzy usually went out on Friday night. He must have told fibs and said he was working late and decided to surprise her, Alexandra decided. But that wasn’t playing the game. What did he think? That she was sitting in waiting for him to call? That she had no life of her own? Big mistake! She was calling the shots. Not Chris.

  Chris Wallace was finally going to find out that there was one woman who wouldn’t dance to his tune. Alexandra would use him as long as it suited her. And then . . . when Mister Right came along . . . bye bye, lover-boy. Casanova Wallace had broken enough hearts. Now it was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. And she was the one to give it to him.

  Alexandra smirked. She liked being in control and tonight she felt extremely in control as she watched her lover stalk morosely to his car, glowering up at her window as he did so.

  ‘Tough, baby,’ she drawled as she lit a Carroll’s and took a slug of her G & T. By the time she was finished with Chris, he wouldn’t know which end of him was up.

  He was having an affair! She knew it. Suzy Wallace paced the bedroom floor. He’d told her he was working late. He hadn’t used the hoary old auditor’s excuse this time. He’d said that he and his dippy little secretary, Ethel, were putting in a new system to increase efficiency in office procedure. He was only an insurance broker, for God’s sake! Suzy thought viciously. Not a business magnate like Aristotle Onassis or the like. Increased efficiency and new systems, her ass!

  She’d phoned the office. She kept getting an engaged tone. He couldn’t be on the phone that long. It got to her so much that she dumped the twins into the back of the car and drove all the way into town from Sandymount, to find her husband’s office in darkness and not a sign of his car anywhere.

  Maybe he’d just left. Maybe he’d be home when she got back. She tried to reassure herself. She’d had a knot the size of a melon in her stomach as she turned her car into the drive, hoping against hope to see Chris’s flashy red car. The kids were bawling in the back. They were tired. It was long past their bedtime. They weren’t even three yet, and it was a bit late to be dragging them around.

  Suzy felt like bawling herself. For the past six months her life had been a misery. She was in turmoil. Tormented. Chris stayed out late, saying he was working. It was lies . . . all lies. But then Chris was an accomplished liar. She saw it all the time. If he didn’t want to do something that didn’t suit him, he lied. He lied to clients to get them to take out bigger insurance policies. He made his secretary tell lies if he didn’t want to take calls. If he didn’t want to have dinner with his mother, he lied. Charming plausible lies that were always believable, especially when he looked directly at you with those seductive blue eyes. Lying was second nature to Chris. And Suzy knew in her heart and soul that he was lying through his teeth to her.

  It must be that bitch in Glenree, she thought frantically as she carried her two whingeing toddlers into the house. That Munroe woman and her illegitimate kid. Suzy peeled a banana each for her little son and daughter. That soothed them. While they were eating, she dialled the office number again and got the engaged tone.

  ‘The conniving shit,’ she cursed as she slammed down the phone. He was so devious. She was going to have it out with him yet again. Definitely. She’d had enough. When the kids were in bed, she’d ring Alexandra, her best friend, and get her advice.

  How had she never seen his deviousness when she’d started dating him? She’d known he had a past. Known that he loved women. But she’d convinced herself all that had ended when he’d married her. How dumb she had been, to be so blinded by his suave, charming, seductive ways.

  She was just about to bring the twins upstairs when she heard the sound of the car engine. That threw her. Had he just left the office? Had she just missed him? Maybe he had been working late? If he was seeing someone, would he come home quite this early? It was just gone twenty to eleven. Maybe the mistress had to put up with a quick fuck. That was Chris all over. Mister-Fuck-and-Run.

  He was like a demon as he barged in through the front door.

  ‘Why aren’t the kids in bed?’ he snarled.<
br />
  ‘Where were you? I rang the office and I couldn’t get an answer,’ she snapped back furiously.

  ‘The bloody phone is out of order. For crying out loud, I’m working my butt off to give you a decent standard of living, the least you could do is have the kids in bed at a reasonable hour and the house a bit tidy,’ Chris fumed as he kicked a toy duck out of his way. ‘What the hell is wrong with you these days, Suzy? Don’t you think I have enough on my plate with the chaos at work without coming home to this mess?’ He marched into the lounge, poured a whiskey and switched on the TV.

  Suzy stood, wracked with confusion and anger. Was the phone out of order? Had he really been working late? He looked dreadful. Strained and tired. Not like someone who’d been having a good shag. Chris was always in a good humour after sex.

  She didn’t know what to believe any more. She wanted to believe him . . . badly. Maybe she was just paranoid. Alexandra was always telling her that she was. Maybe Chris wasn’t telling her lies. Was it all a figment of her imagination?

  The twins started fighting.

  She’d better put them to bed before he really lost his cool. Suzy sighed tiredly. She had a thumping headache and she couldn’t think straight. Maybe Chris was telling the truth about this goddamn system of his. Perhaps there wasn’t another woman. She had to be more trusting. If you didn’t have trust you had nothing, Suzy thought unhappily as she undressed the twins for bed.

  She heard Chris pound upstairs into their bedroom. He closed the door none too gently. He was going to bed without even saying goodnight. Tears welled in her eyes. No one could make her feel miserable the way Chris could. He was a master at it. How much longer could she take it?

  Chapter Two

  Sheila Munroe was not in a good humour as she prepared a chicken casserole for her husband Mick’s dinner. She always cooked a chicken casserole on Monday if they had chicken on Sunday. She’d asked her daughter-in-law Miriam to make a dozen pots of blackberry jam for the annual sale-of-work for the Upkeep of the Parish Fund. Miriam had told her bluntly that she didn’t have time. She was too busy making curtains for this new coffee shop or deli thing she and Ellen were opening in Glenree.

  Sheila’s nose flared in disdain. Deli indeed! Why couldn’t they call it a plain ordinary coffee shop? It wasn’t New York they were living in. It would match Madam Miriam better if she’d stay at home and look after her family instead of all this nonsense about setting up a business. She was getting ideas beyond her station. There was a time when Sheila could depend on her. Sheila chopped an onion with venom. She wasn’t used to having her requests refused. Especially by Miriam, who’d always been a little in awe of her.

  It was all this talk about women’s lib. That’s what it was. Putting ideas into girls’ heads. She was going to have a word with Ben about it. Her youngest son was far too soft and easygoing. She didn’t want to see him or the children neglected because her daughter-in-law was ‘doing her own thing’, as Ellen had put it when Sheila had tried to express her grave concerns about the venture. Ellen had more or less told Sheila to mind her own business. But that was typical of her daughter. Ellen had always been wayward. She’d given Sheila and Mick more trouble than Ben and Vincent put together.

  Not that Mick saw it that way. He was far too soft with Ellen. There she was, living in the lap of luxury with Stephanie in the flat over Mick’s butcher’s shop, and now he’d given her a lease on the coffee shop next door, to set up her deli.

  Considering Ellen’s circumstances as a mother with an illegitimate child, she should have stayed at home, living on the farm with her and Mick. She had a good job as a cashier in his butcher’s shop. Wasn’t that enough for her? Sheila shook her head as she sliced a carrot. Ellen shouldn’t be drawing attention to herself. She had this bee in her bonnet about setting up this deli business. Why couldn’t she just be content to live a quiet life and stay in the background? Even though Stephanie would be seven on her next birthday, the circumstances of her birth were still a trial to Sheila. She held her head high in public all right, but the superior looks of her ex-best friend Bonnie Daly and her cohorts still had the power to wound her pride.

  Sheila sprinkled some chopped fresh herbs into the casserole and slid it into the oven. She decided to ring Vincent, her elder son. His wife Emma was coming home from hospital today. The baby, unfortunately, was premature and had to stay in an incubator for another week or two.

  Emma was not the world’s greatest housewife. In fact, in Sheila’s opinion, her snooty daughter-in-law was a lazy little madam who lived a far too frivolous life. It would match her better if she’d learn to cook and bake properly and feed her husband proper food. Her daughter, Julie Ann, would turn into a baked bean if Emma wasn’t careful. The child hardly knew what a real vegetable was. If Sheila didn’t send over a bit of home baking now and again, all Vincent would get were shop cakes! Sheila didn’t approve of shop cakes. Only the lazy housewife bought them.

  She’d baked scones and Julie Ann’s favourite, chocolate sponge, to celebrate Emma’s homecoming. Julie Ann’s nose would surely be out of joint with this new arrival, Sheila mused. She’d been the centre of attention for nearly seven years and now she had to share the limelight with a new baby brother. Well, it would do her no harm, Sheila thought firmly. Julie Ann was a precocious little miss. It would do her all the good in the world to have to share.

  She went out to the hall and dialled Vincent’s number. ‘It’s his mother,’ she told his secretary in her posh voice. She was very proud that Vincent had a secretary. He was a partner in an Estate Agent and Valuer’s and his firm was doing extremely well. There was even talk of expanding and opening another office.

  ‘Hello, Mam,’ Vincent’s deep voice came down the line.

  ‘Vincent, dear, I’ve baked some scones and a chocolate sponge for Emma and Julie Ann. What time are you bringing her home? I’d like to be there to greet her.’

  There was a pause at the other end. Sheila got the distinct impression that Vincent was not too enamoured of the idea of her being there.

  ‘Well actually, Mam, Emma’s a little bit weepy. You know how it is? Maybe if you left it for a day or two, until she’s settled in again. I don’t think she’s quite up to visitors,’ Vincent said diplomatically. His diplomacy was wasted on Sheila.

  ‘I’m not a visitor. I’m your mother. But far be it from me to intrude where I’m not wanted. Perhaps you’ll kindly let me know when I can call. Goodbye, Vincent.’ Sheila clattered the receiver down none too gently. She felt highly indignant.

  That Emma one was so dramatic, making a fuss out of everything. Of course women got weepy when they had babies. But you just got on with it. What made her so different from everyone else? She was spoilt rotten, that’s what was wrong with her. She had her own car. Her own horse. She could spend whatever she wanted on clothes and the like. She’d nothing to do in that magnificent house. She had a lady to ‘do’ for her, just like the gentry. She had a nanny for the new baby. A nanny!! Whoever heard of such a thing? It was a poor sign of the times when a mother couldn’t look after her own child. Didn’t Emma know how lucky she was? What business had she being weepy? Vincent was far too soft with her.

  Well, if they didn’t want her to visit, she wouldn’t visit. An interfering mother she was not! Sheila was so vexed she abandoned her plans to make Mick an apple crumble. He’d have to make do with the chocolate sponge instead.

  Vincent heard the abrupt click and stared ruefully at the receiver. His mother and her huffs were the last thing he needed. He knew Emma wouldn’t want Sheila fussing about.She’d more or less told him that she didn’t want anyone calling for a few days at least. It would be worse though when the new baby came home. Vincent’s heart sank at the thought of it. His mother would have a comment on everything.

  The baby has too much clothes on!

  You shouldn’t hold him like this. You should hold him like that.

  Don’t pick him up when he cries. He’ll get spo
ilt.

  She’d nearly driven Emma mad when Julie Ann was a baby. No doubt she’d be making snippy remarks about the new nanny. Sheila just had to stick her nose in. Her way was always right. She did it all the time with Miriam as well. And got away with it, Vincent thought grimly. He loved his mother, but there were times when he dearly wished that she’d mind her own business.

  He glanced at his watch. He should go and collect Julie Ann. She was spending the day with Emma’s mother. They were making it a special day for her. New dress, day off school. Vincent knew Julie Ann was already having difficulties in accepting that there was a new little Munroe on the scene. It was hard on her, she was looking for a lot of reassurance. Today was her day alone with her parents. Vincent knew his daughter well enough to know that once little Andrew came home for good, there’d be more than a few fireworks.

  Julie Ann skipped along happily holding her daddy’s hand. They were going to collect Mummy. Daddy had let her have a day off school. That baby was staying in the hospital. She was very glad of that. She’d decided that she’d prefer not to have a new baby. Everyone was making far too much fuss about him. Her cousins Stephanie and Rebecca kept saying that they were dying to see her new brother. They kept asking about him. They wanted to wheel him in his pram and bath him. They kept asking her silly questions about him all the time.