Happy Ever After Read online

  ‘I’ve no intentions of talking to anyone about you. I’ve enough to worry about myself,’ Juliet said stiffly, and hung up.

  Thoroughly disgruntled by her mother’s attitude, and the fact that she had no one to share her good news with, Aimee got out of the car and marched into the marquee, ready to pick a fight with anyone, if everything wasn’t as she’d requested. How had Connie Adams found out that she was pregnant? When had Melissa said it? Where had she said it? Why hadn’t her daughter mentioned that she’d spoken to Connie? She’d give her a good telling-off when she got home later. Melissa had no business discussing their personal matters with strangers. Because, as far as Aimee was concerned, Barry’s treasured ex-wife was a stranger, and one she wanted little or nothing to do with.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Lily neatly placed the copy of her will, her post-office-savings book and her sheaf of bank statements in her handbag. They would stay there until she felt it was safe to put them back in the drawer that she usually kept them in. She looked around her bedroom. It was neat and tidy, smelling fresh and clean with beeswax polish. Her bed, with its gleaming brass bedstead, was covered in a cream, lavender and green patchwork quilt that picked up the sage-green and lavender paintwork of her room. It was a soothing room, bright in the morning but airy and cool in the afternoon and evening, the sun having moved around the back, to Judith’s side of the house.

  She’d got a start when she’d read Tom’s note to say that he and the painter were arriving this morning. She couldn’t decide whether to tell him that she didn’t want the painting job done. It seemed the least stressful way to go, but the two bedrooms could do with a lick of paint, she reasoned. And why should Judith have to go to the trouble of getting it done? The Lord only knew how long it would take her to recover fully, mentally as well as physically. Lily knew fine well that getting the bedrooms painted would give Tom a perfect opportunity to snoop, especially if she was out visiting Judith, hence the new lodging place for her papers.

  Why had he zeroed in on the bedrooms and not the hall stairs or landing, or her sitting room? She was right to be suspicious, she told herself as she gathered together the items she knew he would be particularly interested in. Her son had made it clear over the years that he expected an equal share in her estate. He had done his best to ascertain had she made a will, going so far as to offer to bring her to his own solicitor. As if she’d be stupid enough to use his solicitor, she thought crossly. The pair of them could be in cahoots. All those rogue solicitors she kept hearing about on the news made her thankful for the stalwart support of Mr Martin.

  She had her own solicitor, she’d informed Tom, and her private business was exactly that – ’private’, she’d reiterated firmly. She remembered how he’d come to visit her in hospital when she was getting her cataract done and bluntly asked her had she made a will, putting the fear of God in her that she might die under the knife. He was avaricious and untrustworthy, and the last person she would turn to if she was in trouble. Wasn’t that a sad state of affairs between a mother and her only son, Lily thought sadly, wondering was it her fault that he had turned out to be such a disappointment. Was it because she had been so self-obsessed, always worried about herself, always nervy and agitated? Had Cecily and Tom learned to think only of themselves because that was what they had learned from her? Lily felt an unwelcome pang of guilt.

  Judith had turned out to be a good and unselfish human being, and she’d had the same rearing as her siblings, Lily argued with herself as she stood at her bedroom window, staring out unseeingly. She shouldn’t and wouldn’t take all the blame for his faults. If he had any sense of decency, he’d see that Judith was more than entitled to a roof over her head. If he was the one who had stayed, she would have done her duty by him too. Tom had no idea of what she was worth financially, and he certainly wasn’t going to find out in the next few days if she could help it.

  She straightened the folds of her lace curtains and walked out of her bedroom. Houses, land and savings caused such family rows at funerals. Her own grandmother had signed over a house to Lily’s uncle, not realizing what she was doing. When she discovered that she wouldn’t be able to leave the house to all of her children to be sold and the proceeds divided out when she died, solicitors had been called in on both sides, and a legal battle that had cost a fortune had followed. Her grandmother lost the court case, and the rift that ensued had never been healed. Well, her wishes would be followed, Lily vowed, and her wishes were that Judith got the house. She’d lived in it for most of her fifty years, she’d taken care of Lily, and Ted when he was alive, and she was entitled. Tom felt he was owed his portion, by merely being her son. He was owed nothing except what she wanted to give him, and that wouldn’t be much.

  She was going to play a smart game with him. If he tried to get the better of her, he’d come to realize that he’d picked on the wrong person to try to trick. She would let the painting of the bedrooms go ahead, but she would be vigilant at all times. This painter fellow might be in Tom’s pay, with orders to find out as much as he could. She wouldn’t put anything past her son, from what she knew of him. If she was happy the way the bedrooms turned out and happy with the painter, she’d suggest getting the rest of the house painted. It would be done before Judith moved out to her own place, because Lily knew, as sure as grass grew green, that once Tom realized his elder sister had been favoured financially, Lily might never see sight nor sign of him again, and there’d be no more offers of house painting – or any other house renovations or maintenance, for that matter. She might as well play him at his own game and get as much out of him as she could. If he could be devious, so could she.

  ‘Morning, Ma. I missed you yesterday – did you get my note?’ Tom asked, picking his nose with his thumb as he sat at his desk with his feet up.

  ‘I got your note. Yes.’ Lily was always rather formal on the phone.

  ‘So if we head over in the next hour you’ll be there?’ he queried.

  ‘Yes. I will.’

  ‘Grand, I’ll see you then.’ Tom replaced the receiver of the landline, picked up his mobile and dialled a number. ‘Right, Jimmy,’ he said to the man at the other end of the line, ‘I’ll meet you at the address I gave you at –’ he glanced at his watch – ‘ten thirty, and bring your colour cards and brochures. You’ll understand if the ma is a bit pernickety, that’s just the way she is. Take no notice. Cheers.

  ‘Brenda, I’ll be gone for the morning. Direct any calls you can’t deal with to my mobile, and make an appointment for me to see my investment advisor asap,’ he directed his secretary as he headed at speed out of the office.

  Three-quarters of an hour later he stood at his mother’s door in Drumcondra, noting that a house at the end of the road had been sold. He’d check out how much the owners had got for it. Property slump or not, it hadn’t stayed too long on the market. A good sign. Drumcondra was a prime location, recession or not, he observed, feeling more cheerful. By the end of this week he was hoping to have a good idea of his mother’s finances and see how the wind lay in relation to the will. It would be reassuring to know just how much of a safety net he had coming to him. If he found that he wasn’t getting what he expected, he’d take legal advice on the matter and keep badgering his mother until she saw sense. He had his opportunity to ingratiate himself with Lily now that Judith was in hospital.

  ‘Morning, Tom.’ Lily was uncommonly cheerful when she opened the door to him. It was amazing, he reflected as he took in her smart appearance and her bright eyes; Judith’s accident had been the makings of her. Even her demeanour was different. Her shoulders were straighter. That pinched, worried expression that she habitually wore was less evident. She had colour in her cheeks from being out and about. She didn’t look like a woman in her early seventies. She could easily live for another fifteen years and, knowing her, she would, just to keep him waiting. He brushed the thought away impatiently.

  ‘Jimmy, the painter, is on his way.
He’s bringing colour cards so you can choose what paint you want,’ he said, following her into the kitchen. Two china cups on saucers, a bowl of sugar cubes, a milk jug and a plate of biscuits were laid out on the small square table with its floral oilcloth. No cream sponge, he noted, disappointed.

  ‘I think I’ll go for the same colours that we have, in both our rooms – ochre and cream in Judith’s, and sage green and lavender in mine,’ Lily said as the doorbell rang and she hurried out to answer it. A gangly man with a mop of white hair stood in paint-spattered overalls at her door. Tom heard Jimmy greet his mother with a friendly, ‘Howya, Missus Baxter. I see Tom’s here already.’

  ‘Hello, Jimmy, good timing.’ Tom went out to the hall. ‘Ma, this is Jimmy, the best painter in the country.’

  ‘Hello, Jimmy, will you have a cup of tea?’ Lily said politely, putting her hand in his outstretched one. He shook it gently, and his blue eyes twinkled at her as he followed her into the kitchen. ‘I see you have your china out, just like my granny. She only drinks tea from china cups. She’s a lady too.’ He smiled down at her.

  ‘Is that so? Tea tastes much nicer from china, I find,’ Lily said as she went to switch on the kettle.

  ‘Er . . . Can we just have a look at the rooms first so we can get ourselves sorted?’ Tom interjected hastily. Jimmy was a good painter but a real gasbag when he got going.

  ‘Certainly, certainly,’ Jimmy agreed, standing back to allow Lily to precede them up the stairs. To Tom’s surprise, his mother made her decisions quickly and decisively. No dithering like the old days.

  ‘Umm, I was thinking that I should get a key cut . . . you know, in case you weren’t here to let Jimmy in. Or if there were any problems and you were in the hospital,’ he said casually, not wanting to seem too eager.

  ‘Oh, there’s no need for that, Tom,’ Lily said firmly. ‘I’ll be here to let Jimmy in if he comes in the morning. And if he comes in the afternoon, I can arrange my visiting times to suit him. Judith’s a private patient, don’t forget. I can come and go as I please,’ she reminded him.

  ‘All the same, it would be handy for me to have a key.’ Tom tried to keep his tone light.

  ‘I don’t see any need for you to be bothering about getting keys cut. You’ve enough to be doing. Now, Jimmy, when can you start?’ Lily turned her back on Tom and faced the painter.

  ‘I can start this afternoon, Missus Baxter. I just have to buy the paint, and that won’t take me long now that I know what you want. Is that all right with you, Tom?’ Jimmy turned to him, bushy eyebrow raised.

  ‘Fine,’ Tom muttered, thoroughly wrongfooted.

  ‘Come and have the tea,’ Lily invited, waving imperiously, as if she were the chatelaine of a grand mansion rather than a pensioner living in a redbrick in the suburbs. She gave herself such airs and graces sometimes, Tom thought irritably, annoyed that she’d rebuffed him when he’d tried to offer advice on the colour she’d chosen for her bedroom. ‘Hush, Tom, I know what I want,’ she’d said sharply, as if he were ten years old rather than the successful, property-owning businessman that he was. Well, she might know what she wanted, but he knew exactly what he wanted too. But, the way things were going, he might never get a chance to have a good poke around, and it was going to cost him. Painters didn’t come cheap these days, and he couldn’t very well turn around and say, ‘You can pay for this yourself, I’ve changed my mind.’

  ‘Let me go in front of you, Missus Baxter, a gentleman always walks down the stairs first, in case the lady trips,’ Jimmy said gallantly.

  ‘What lovely manners.’ Lily flushed with pleasure. ‘You remind me of my late husband, Ted. He always walked ahead of me down the stairs. A man with manners is hard to find these days,’ she said, pointedly glancing in Tom’s direction.

  ‘My granny insisted on good manners. We were reared to it,’ Jimmy said cheerfully, as he loped down the stairs.

  Lickarse brown-noser, Tom thought, wondering how he was going to achieve his goal. He didn’t want to be too pushy about the key. He wouldn’t like to raise the painter’s suspicions either, especially if he did get the chance for a snoop. Jimmy was a real salt-of-the-earth Dubliner type, the sort that respected the elderly. He might not be too impressed if he caught Tom poking around his mother’s bedroom and riffling through drawers.

  The way they were chatting to each other, Lily was clearly taken with Jimmy. She might trust him enough to leave him on his own in the house, and Tom could call on the pretext of checking to see how everything was going and get his chance then. Things weren’t going to plan. It was all very stressful. He didn’t have time to sit drinking tea out of china cups, rabbiting on about the ‘good old days’.

  ‘So are you going in to visit Judith this afternoon?’ he inquired as he sat at the kitchen table chomping on chocolate biscuits, waiting for his mother to make the tea.

  ‘We’ll play it by ear – isn’t that what they say these days?’ Lily declared airily, and he could have cheerfully murdered her.

  ‘So, Janice, if you could sort that for me I’d be very grateful.’ Judith spoke to her colleague in human resources with a much stronger, clearer voice than of late. ‘As I say, I think I was a little hard on Debbie about her increment. She’s not a bad worker. She was just somewhat . . . er . . . distracted, with her wedding coming up, I suppose. If I was at work myself I’d deal with it.’

  ‘No problem, Judith. How are you feeling?’ Janice inquired kindly.

  ‘Do you know, I think I’ve turned a corner. I won’t be back at work for a few months, they’ve told me, but I could be out in ten days or so, once my orthopaedic surgeon and the physio are happy.’

  ‘That’s great news, Judith. I’ll be in to see you later in the week, and I’ll bring you up to date on all the news, gossip and scandal,’ Janice assured her.

  ‘And you’ll make sure Debbie gets her increment in her next pay cheque?’

  ‘Am on it as we speak,’ her colleague assured her. ‘God bless, Judith, keep well.’

  Judith exhaled a long, deep sigh and leaned back in the chair beside the bed. It didn’t sound to her as if Debbie had made a complaint to HR saying that she’d been bullied. Janice had been friendly and cooperative. There had been no hint of anything untoward. Ever since the altercation with her young colleague, Judith had had it at the back of her mind that Debbie might take a case against her. But that wasn’t the only reason she had asked for the other girl’s increment to be paid. Judith knew deep down that she’d behaved badly by withholding it and, while redressing the matter didn’t remove her guilt, it might assuage it a little.

  Being called a bully had shocked Judith deeply. She’d attended a course at work about bullying only three months ago. Every employee in the company had had to do it, under their company regulations. She could still remember the good-looking, articulate psychologist who was running the course listing off a set of criteria which, at the time, hadn’t impacted on her as much as it had in the past few days. When she’d allowed herself to face up to Debbie’s accusation, she’d recalled that some of the methods a bully used included implied threats and persistent criticism, verbal abuse, and negative comments made in front of other staff. These were commonplace, it seemed. If they constituted bullying, she had to hold her hands up and say that was the way she’d treated Debbie Adams. Judith felt riddled with shame.

  The psychologist had told his audience that most bullies envied their victims. Judith particularly remembered that phrase because she remembered thinking that she envied everybody. It was a course that held no relevance to the way she conducted her professional life, she’d felt. As far as she was concerned, it was a waste of time. It was only after Debbie’s shocking accusation that it all fell into place because, if there was one person in the last two years that Judith had truly envied, it was Debbie Adams, with her sparkling engagement ring and her wedding plans, and her attentive boyfriend, now husband. Yes, envy had been the reason she had halted her young colleague’s increme
nt, nothing more and nothing less. She’d done it out of malice, just because she was able to. She had that power. If the truth were told, Debbie was no better or no worse at her job than any of the other girls under Judith’s command.

  Her own psychiatrist had hit the nail on the head in a follow-up session with her the previous day, when he’d pointed out, in the nicest possible way, that behaviour at work was often subtly and not so subtly influenced by what went on at home. That was when she’d really started to face up to the truly unpalatable fact that she was guilty as charged. Judith blushed, thinking that, if the psychiatrist knew how horrible she’d been to a work colleague, he might not have been so kind and friendly to her. Maybe, some time, she might actually be able to bring herself to apologize to Debbie in person but, for the moment, restoring her incremental pay rise would have to suffice.

  Judith sat quietly in her chair, glad that her sedation had been reduced to a minimum. It was a relief to be able to think clearly again. It was necessary to face all these issues, she supposed, because, by confronting them and dealing with them as best she could, she could move on with her life and not stay as she had been, full of simmering resentment, anger and bitterness. It was hard facing up to the fact that she wasn’t a very nice person, that she’d taken her bad feelings out on a younger, more vulnerable co-worker. Ever since her last session with her psychiatrist she’d excoriated herself, sparing herself nothing as she’d gone over all the times she’d been thoroughly nasty to Debbie. It made for painful recall.

  Facing her dark side was pretty grim, the hardest thing she had ever done, Judith reflected, watching the sullen, black rainclouds roll in over Howth. But hadn’t Plato said something about the unexamined life not being worth living? She was certainly getting an opportunity to do plenty of self-examination these days, she thought ruefully. Still, despite the harsh and unpleasant truths she was being forced to deal with, it was a relief to stop running away from things, and to take responsibility for her own behaviour and stop blaming her mother for everything. For the past twenty years or more, Judith had blamed Lily for all that was wrong with her life, because she was the most obvious candidate. That was most unfair, the new, more self-aware Judith admitted. Lily was not to blame. That acknowledgement had to be a step in the right direction. Once, a thought like that would have been given short shrift. Feeling sorry for herself had kept her going all these years. What was she going to do now that she no longer had Lily to blame for her life choices?