Finishing Touches Read online

  Karen sighed. The minefield of families was enough to tax even the most diplomatic and tolerant of people. When she looked at her children playing happily together, she often wondered if they would end up at one another’s throats the way her in-laws and her father and uncle had. It was a depressing thought.

  ‘I’m looking forward to Cassie’s party. We haven’t had a night out in ages,’ John smiled down at his wife as he settled her more comfortably in the crook of his arm.

  ‘I wonder if Barbara will come,’ Karen mused, taking a sip of her hot chocolate.

  ‘Well, if she does, it will be because her nosiness gets the better of her,’ John retorted. There was no love lost between brother and sister. Barbara’s egotism sickened John, who hadn’t a selfish bone in his body.

  ‘I don’t think Irene will make the trip, do you?’ Karen stretched luxuriously. This was her favourite time of the day, when the children were fast asleep and she and John could talk in peace.

  ‘It might put her out too much. You know Irene,’ John said drily. ‘I wonder if Martin and the martyr will come.’

  ‘Oh John!’ Karen reproved, giggling at her husband’s description of his sister-in-law, Jean.

  ‘I’ve just had a baby and I’m exhausted.’ John exactly mimicked Jean’s breathless way of speaking. ‘I couldn’t possibly go to a launch unless I have a foreign holiday to get over it.’

  Karen gave a hearty chuckle. Just as well they could laugh about their relations. Otherwise they’d go crazy.

  ‘“Mortin” – I love the posh way she says Martin – “Mortin, your sister Cassie has invited us to her party, but I don’t think we should grace her launch with our presence. It would give her actions the seal of approval. And Finishing Touches is something we definitely don’t approve of. And besides, Barbara would never speak to me again. Don’t you agree, Mortin?”’ John was in full flow. Jean just begged to be mimicked, with her girlish air that hid a will of iron.

  Karen was snorting with laughter. ‘Give over, John. I’m going to spill this chocolate!’

  ‘Sorry,’ he grinned, taking the mug from her.

  Karen grinned back. She was crazy about her big bear of a husband. ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you too,’ he echoed, bending his head and giving her a long, lingering kiss.

  ‘Let’s have an early night,’ she suggested, eyes twinkling as she surfaced for air.

  ‘You wanton, wicked woman . . . Let’s!’

  ‘I’ll just check the baby,’ Karen murmured as they climbed the stairs, arms entwined. She peeped into the darkened bedroom. Eighteen-month-old Tara lay wide-eyed, smiling up at her mother. An unmistakable smell reached Karen’s nostrils. ‘Oohh, Tara!’ she groaned, scooping the baby up and heading for the bathroom. John was brushing his teeth.

  ‘Do you want me to change her?’ John asked, beaming down at his adored daughter.

  ‘No! You go and warm up the bed for me,’ Karen instructed, whipping off the baby’s nappy.

  ‘Sure thing, mein boss!’ John departed the bathroom, saluting.

  Tara gurgled appreciatively. ‘Ma ma,’ she smiled at her mother and Karen’s heart melted. ‘Da Da, La La.’ Her mother was getting her whole repertoire. La La was everybody else whose name she couldn’t manage.

  ‘Go night night for mammy,’ she said sternly, gently laying her daughter in her cot when she was finished. Tara was full of beans; she’d never get her off to sleep. Just for tonight, she’d give her a bottle to settle her down. She wanted a nice bit of nookey with her husband when they were both in the humour for it. It wasn’t easy with two children and John’s demanding work.

  Swiftly, she prepared a bottle for the baby and settled her down. She brushed her teeth, gave herself a quick wash and flew down the landing to their bedroom. A familiar, rumbling sound assaulted her ears and she opened the door to find her dearly beloved out for the count, his musical snores raising the rafters.

  ‘John . . . John!’ she whispered hopefully. Not a stir. She hadn’t the heart to wake him. He worked so hard for his family and he needed his sleep. Just her luck that he had fallen asleep on her tonight. Sighing deeply, she slipped into her nightdress, slid into bed beside him, switched off the bedside lamp and put her arms around her sleeping husband, murmuring, ‘I’ll get you in the morning.’

  ‘You can go if you want, Martin. Don’t let me stop you,’ Jean Jordan said huffily, as she flipped through the latest issue of Hello! and wished mightily that she had Princess Di’s figure and money.

  ‘It might be a good time to let bygones be bygones. That’s all I’m saying,’ Martin remarked diffidently, settling into one of the luxurious cane chairs in their conservatory. The conservatory had cost him an arm and a leg, but Jean hadn’t given him a bit of peace until he had got it done. Now she wanted to get a patio and ornamental pool in the back garden. Barbara had some sort of gazebo thing and Jean couldn’t bear to be outdone. Each of them was always trying to get one up on the other, despite the fact that they were so friendly, and it was costing him a fortune. He wasn’t earning big bucks, despite what Jean might think. He was perfectly happy with the house and garden the way they were but when Barbara got something new, Jean got fidgety. He wanted to go to this do of Cassie’s, to put the past behind him and start afresh. After all, Cassie was his sister and he felt that what had happened had all been a big mistake.

  Cassie had spoken to him sharply a couple of times in the past for not doing more about the house for his mother. He had been furious, of course. It was easy for her to talk; she didn’t have a wife and family to support, and a mother-in-law who clung to them like a leech. Despite the fact that she had two sons of her own, it was to Martin that Jean’s mother turned whenever she wanted anything done in her house, and she always had something that needed doing. She came to dinner every Sunday and they took her shopping every Thursday night. He felt bad about not having been able to help a bit more at home, but he was permanently up to his eyes and, besides, Jean would have ended up with a face on her if he had spent too long at his ma’s.

  ‘You’re very forgiving all of a sudden!’ His wife interrupted his musings. ‘Could it be the fact that you’re hoping Cassie might throw a bit of business your way, now that she’s set up this interior design carry-on?’ Martin was an electrical contractor.

  ‘Trust you to think of something like that,’ he retorted. ‘Is Barbara going?’ he asked, wishing that Jean would get back to her magazine, so he could have a snooze. He’d had a hard day at work. Then he’d had to put the kids to bed because Jean had her period and was feeling rotten. Now he had to listen to this earbashing. He should have stayed single!

  Jean snorted. ‘Indeed she’s not going. I spoke to her on the phone today and she wouldn’t dream of it. You should know better than to ask.’

  ‘I was just wondering. You know Barbara . . . she’d go to the opening of an envelope,’ he grinned, amused at his little joke. Jean gave him a withering look.

  ‘If you want to go to this thing tomorrow night, go! Just don’t expect me to come with you, Martin Jordan,’ Jean said furiously, gathering up her Hello! and marching into the lounge, leaving Martin sorry he’d ever mentioned it in the first place. Maybe he would go, and he’d bloody well say to his wife that he never criticized her family the way she criticized his. He had rewired her mother’s home for nothing, and never a word about it, and her bloody brothers were as bad, expecting him to drop everything every time they needed a new socket put in. Only last week he had spent an entire night putting up wall-lights for one of them. Four hours’ hard work because he’d had to chase walls. And what did he get for it? Two bloody pints, that’s what. The louser. But dare he say anything to Jean? She’d go into a huff for a week. He was getting a bit sick of it. Well, he was seriously thinking of going to his sister’s party, and if Jean didn’t like it, she could lump it.

  Irene Jordan was one totally pissed-off lady. Prowling around her Washington condo she lit yet another Marlboro, d
ragging the smoke deeply into her lungs. How could Dean do this to her? After all this time! Men! They were shits! She had been sure he would marry her.

  Her lower lip trembled, tears glittering in her big blue eyes. What would she do if Dean decided he wanted a younger mistress, or even worse, now that he was finally free, a younger wife? It just didn’t bear thinking about. After all, Irene was nearly thirty and out there in the vastness of the USA, there were plenty of gorgeous nubiles eager to take her place. She was treading on very thin ice making her demands. But dammit, Dean just couldn’t walk all over her. Not after she had spent the past four years bending over backwards to please him. Being the perfect mistress, the perfect companion! Senator Dean Madigan was having his cake and eating it.

  It wasn’t easy being a mistress. True, she had this lovely condo, and a new car, and he gave her a generous allowance so that she could visit beauty salons and gyms to keep herself looking the very best. True, he took her to places she had only ever dreamt about: cruising in the Caribbean, skiing in Aspen, surfing in Malibu. Life with the Senator had opened up a whole new world to her. But – and it was a big but – there was no security in being a mistress. And what Irene Jordan craved more than anything else in the world was security. The thought of being alone and fending for herself had always filled her with dread.

  What Irene really wanted to do was to marry a nice rich man who would look after her and protect her from the big bad world. Her brief experience of working for a living in a nine-to-five job in Dublin County Council was the most horrific time of her life.

  It had been her mother’s idea that she visit her wealthy cousin Dorothy in Washington. But Irene had to admit that things were not looking good right now. She sighed deeply. What she wouldn’t give to be a child again and to have Nora taking care of all her fears and worries. Her mother had been her great protector. Irene knew that compared to the rest of her family she had been spoilt rotten. She had been Nora’s pet. But those days were gone and she had to depend on herself. Well, she had the condo, but that wasn’t home – not really. She wished she were more like her sister Cassie, strong and independent. Imagine being thirty-six and not even married! And not worried about it either! Imagine setting up your own business, working fourteen hours a day! If only Irene could be like her, she’d have no problems. Well, she wasn’t, and that was that. There was only one Cassie in the world.

  Should she go to the official opening of Finishing Touches? Irene sighed, lighting up another cigarette and getting a split of champagne from the fridge. She supposed she should. Cassie had always been kind to her and only Cassie knew her awful secret. She didn’t know what to do; she was far too upset over Dean to make a decision about going anywhere. To think she had wasted four good years on him, when she could have been playing the field. But she’d been so sure he would marry her when he was free. Well, it wasn’t over until it was over; she could still hope that he would pop the question. In the meantime, she could be on the look-out; after all, she was very attractive and men were always coming on to her. The Senator was forever having to remind them that she was his lady. No more! If someone with prospects came along, Senator Dean Madigan could either marry her or go take a running jump. Defiantly, she rang up Dorothy and told her to round up a few eligibles for the weekend. Irene Jordan was on the hunt again, Washington watch out! In the meantime, she would enquire about a seat on Concorde. Dean was so rich he could hardly quibble about the price of a little old ticket – and if he did, tough. Irene had just about had enough. The Senator would soon find out that he couldn’t take her for granted any longer! Cassie sure as hell wouldn’t put up with being treated like a doormat. From now on, neither would Irene!

  The Friends

  Think where man’s glory most begins and ends,

  And say my glory was I had such friends.

  WB Yeats

  Aileen O’Shaughnessy wiped a bead of perspiration from her brow as she waited for the director to yell cut so that she could rush on set to powder the leading man’s face before shooting resumed. Algiers was the hottest location of the many she had worked on since taking up her career in the film world. It was a move she had never regretted.

  Right now, though, she felt she wouldn’t be a bit sorry to get back to the studio in London. Filming was due to end in two days’ time, all going well and if the director didn’t have a nervous breakdown – which was becoming more of a possibility every minute.

  Still, her tan was coming along very nicely, she observed with satisfaction. Barbara would be envious. She wondered if Babs would come to Cassie’s bash. Cassie had written to tell her that she had invited Barbara and the rest of the family. Frankly, Aileen thought she was mad! Aileen didn’t believe in forgive and forget, well, not with someone like Barbara. If Judy, her sister, had behaved to Aileen as Barbara had behaved to Cassie, she would never have anything to do with her again. In fact she’d be lucky to be alive! Aileen was a redhead and had a temper to match. It came in handy on occasions! Cassie could do with having more of a temper; her trouble was she was far too soft.

  Aileen fanned herself in the intense heat. She was dying to get home for a few days. Not dying to see her mother, exactly. Angela O’Shaughnessy would whine and moan but Aileen had learnt not to take any notice. No, Aileen was dying to see Cassie and Laura. She had a little surprise for them. Aileen grinned, imagining their reaction to her news.

  The three of them had been friends since their schooldays and had no secrets from one another. How enriched her life had been by such friendships. There was Barbara alienated from her sister by pettiness and envy. She didn’t know what she was missing by shutting someone like Cassie out of her life.

  Mind, she’d make a great film character! She and Kristi Killeen, gossip columnists extraordinaire. Hedda Hopper and the other one – Aileen couldn’t think of her name; oh yes, it came to her – Parsons, Louella Parsons, had nothing on them! She wondered how The Fire and the Fury was progressing. What a film that would make. No doubt Barbara would want to play herself!

  They’d had such a laugh when Judy told Cassie and Laura and her about Barbara’s bodice-ripper which was masquerading as literature. That had been a lovely lunch, full of gossip and chat and gales of laughter. Although Aileen loved her job and really enjoyed travelling to exotic locations, even if they were a bit hot, she missed the girls.

  She was so looking forward to Cassie’s party. Now that would be a night to remember! She could feel it in her bones.

  ‘Aileen, get your ass on set!’ the director yelled.

  ‘Keep your toupee on, dear!’ Aileen smiled sweetly, strolling over to the leading actor, powder-puff at the ready.

  Laura Quinn sighed in exasperation as she scanned the notes on the Brickman file. Already she had discovered two errors in the draft deed that she was reading. Typing errors. It just wasn’t good enough! Her secretary was becoming far too casual and she would have to speak to her about it. Accuracy in legal documents was of the utmost importance. She didn’t want any of her department’s deals held up because of typing errors. William Bennett Solicitors had a good reputation to maintain and Laura was damned if the side were going to be let down by her division.

  A partner in one of the biggest legal firms in the city, Laura was in charge of the conveyancing department. It was a position she had achieved through grit and determination and she was especially proud because she was one of only three female partners in the huge firm.

  She closed the file, put it in her Gucci briefcase, a present from her husband, Doug, and yawned mightily. She was terribly tired. All she wanted was to crawl into her kingsize bed and sleep her brains out. Unfortunately, she and Doug were throwing a dinner party for some clients of hers the next evening and she had a lot of preparations to do. The more she got done tonight the better. She set to work preparing a marinade, with swift economical movements, poured the marinade over the duck and put it in the fridge, with a sigh of relief. One chore done. Now to prepare some choux pastry.
She had meant to buy some when she was in Marks and Spencers and completely forgot. This pregnancy was affecting her memory as well as everything else! In that respect Cassie was lucky. At least she didn’t have children to worry about while she was getting Finishing Touches off the ground.

  There were times Laura found it tough going combining motherhood and a career, and with this new baby coming along it was going to be even harder. Maybe she’d resign and get Cassie to employ her the way she had employed Judy. Laura grinned. Now, that would be fun, working with Cassie. She was such a pet. After all these years, they were still great mates. The way Cassie had taken charge of her life again after all the hardships and hassle she had endured impressed Laura so much. She was certain she’d never have coped with what Cassie had coped with. And then, despite her family, to set up Finishing Touches. The girl deserved a medal. Well, Laura would be there, cheering, on her big night. What time was it? Twelve o’clock, and she was finding it awfully hard to keep her eyes open. She was too tired to wait up any longer for Doug, so she went upstairs and got into bed. She must remind Doug to keep the night of Cassie’s launch free. Between them, her husband and she would soon need a social secretary to manage their business entertaining. It got a bit wearing at times, but that was the price of success. Right now, Laura wasn’t sure if it were worth it. She was just dropping off to sleep when her husband slid noiselessly into the room without switching on the light. He undressed and got into bed and put his arms around her.

  ‘I’m awake,’ she murmured.

  ‘We clinched the deal, Laura. It was a great night’s work but I’m bushed.’ Doug yawned.

  ‘Me too!’ said his wife. ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘The Trocadero, and guess who was there?’

  ‘Barbara!’

  Doug smiled in the dark. ‘I asked her if she were coming to Cassie’s launch party.’