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  Julie Ann just wanted things to be the way they were when there was only herself and Mummy and Daddy. She’d had a great idea last night. Her cousin Stephanie used to live with Nannie and Grandad Munroe. Now she lived in her own house and she’d a really brilliant bedroom like the nursery in Mary Poppins. But Nannie missed Stephanie. Julie Ann had heard her mummy and daddy talking about it. She knew just what to do. They could have the new baby. Then they wouldn’t be lonely at all. And they’d think that she was very very kind for giving him to them. They might even think she was a saint. She’d been learning about saints at school. Julie Ann rather liked the idea of being a saint. She wanted to grow a halo. Maybe it was already growing, she thought excitedly. She must have a look in the mirror in her mummy’s bedroom to see if the light had started to shine around her head.

  It was a great relief to have worked it all out. Julie Ann ran up the steps of the hospital eagerly, dying to tell her mummy about her plan and anxious to see if the longed-for halo had started to shine.

  Emma Munroe applied a light touch of Wild Rose lipstick and sprayed some Chanel No 5 on her neck and wrists. She was a little sorry to be leaving the hospital. It had been nice being fussed over and pampered. She’d come down off her double high of having the baby and presenting Vincent with a son. Even though Vincent had got a nanny for Andrew, it was only from nine to five and after that she’d have to get used to feeds and nappies and disturbed nights all over again. She dreaded the idea.

  Still, at least Andrew was the last child she’d ever have, Emma comforted herself. She’d never have to get pregnant again. Vincent was going to London to have a vasectomy. She sighed. It was a big step to take. Sheila would be horrified if she ever found out. She’d say it was tampering with nature and God’s plan. Emma would have had six kids if her mother-in-law had her way. What a thought! It was all right for Sheila, she’d never had toxaemia and nearly died. She didn’t suffer from high blood pressure like Emma.

  Emma scowled. Her two pregnancies had been dreadful! No woman should have to endure what she’d endured. It was nearly enough to put you off sex and Emma liked very much making love with her husband. Not that she’d be making love for a while. She was still very sore down there. She’d been having salt baths twice a day. Her boobs were like two big balloons. She was bigger than Jayne Mansfield had ever been. She, who’d been a perfect size ten, was now a big fat lump of blubber. It was disgusting. Maybe Vincent wouldn’t even want to make love to her. Emma burst into tears.

  What was wrong with her? She kept crying at the slightest thing. Not that a waist as wide as Nelson’s Pillar was a slight thing. A horrible thought struck her and made her cry even harder. Maybe she had that postnatal depression thing. Maybe she was going to be depressed for months.

  A nurse came in and saw her weeping. She put her arms around Emma. ‘Don’tcry,MrsMunroe, you’ll be able to bring Andrew home as soon as he puts on a bit more weight,’ she said soothingly.

  Emma felt a stab of guilt. She hadn’t even been thinking about poor little Andrew. As well as being fat and frumpy she was a thoroughly selfish mother. The thought made her cry even harder. She cried herself into such a state that the house doctor decided she needed a mild sedative and told her he was keeping her in hospital for another day or so.

  Vincent and Julie Ann arrived just then. When her daughter heard that she wasn’t coming home she threw such a tantrum Vincent had to carry her yelling out of the hospital. It was all extremely stressful. The sedative they’d given her made her feel nice and woozy and spaced out. Another day’s reprieve from real life, Emma thought drowsily as she snuggled down under the crisp starched sheets. Maybe she might try and persuade Vincent to take her away for a week while Andrew was still in hospital. The South of France would be nice. Miriam would mind Julie Ann. She was always very obliging. Julie Ann would enjoy staying with her cousin.

  That’s what she’d do, Emma decided. A week away was just what she needed before she faced into the trauma of taking care of a new baby.

  Miriam Munroe sat at her sewing machine sewing like a fury on the curtains for the new deli. They’d be opening as soon as Doug had completed the renovations.

  She was sizzling with suppressed rage. Her husband Ben had told her that Mrs Munroe had the nerve to say she was concerned that he and the children were going to be neglected when she started working in The Deli. The nerve of her. The absolute nerve!

  Miriam had been married to Ben for thirteen years and she’d put up with a hell of a lot from that woman. She’d been a doormat for far too long. Well, not any more. She was thirty-eight years old. She’d had enough of Sheila Munroe’s bullying. It was time her mother-in-law realised that they were living in the twentieth century, not the eighteen-nineties. The Seventies were almost upon them. Miriam was going to start the next decade a new woman.

  This time she really was going to let Ma Munroe have it. Miriam had never neglected Ben and the children. They were the most important part of her life. To be accused of neglect made her so mad. Ben had told her as a bit of a joke. But it was no joking matter. She wouldn’t dare say something like that about Emma, Miriam thought resentfully as she straightened a seam. She wouldn’t get away with it. Vincent would hit the roof if she suggested such a thing. Ben should have put his mother in her place. He was too easygoing sometimes.

  If there was neglect, then poor Julie Ann was the neglected one, in Miriam’s opinion. She might have the best clothes and her own pony and the like, but that child was always being dumped on anyone who’d take her so that Emma could get on with her hectic social life. And did Ma Munroe have anything to say about that? She did not. Well, Miriam was going to send her off with a flea in her ear this time. Enough was enough. She had her own life to lead and people could start getting used to it. And Emma needn’t think for one minute that she was going to land Andrew on her the way she did Julie Ann. Those days were over, Miriam vowed as she stabbed a pin into her pincushion with a savagery that was most unlike her.

  Chapter Three

  ‘I think you’re mad, Miriam! You’ve enough on your plate without minding Julie Ann for a week,’ Ellen chastised her sister-in-law as they sat in Woolworth’s café sipping hot sweet tea and eating cream cakes. They were having a rare morning in Dublin together.

  ‘What could I do?’ Miriam asked irritably. ‘Emma was almost in tears when she was asking me to mind her. She’s very down, you know. She’s depressed.’

  Ellen snorted. She had very little time for Emma and the feeling was mutual. Their relationship was very much of the Walking-on-Eggshells variety. It annoyed her the way Emma took advantage of Miriam. ‘For crying out loud, Miriam. Depression, my hat! You know Emma, the way she exaggerates. If she gets a headache she’s got a brain tumour! She’s just playing on your good nature. And you’d want to put a stop to it. Once we get The Deli open you’ll hardly have time to look after your own three.’

  ‘I know. I know. I wish people would stop telling me what to do.’ Miriam scowled.

  Ellen raised an eyebrow at her companion’s tetchy tone. It wasn’t like Miriam to snap. She was usually very placid.

  ‘I wanted to say no to Emma. But I just couldn’t bring myself to when I saw the tears in her eyes. She’s very pale and wan-looking. She did have a rough pregnancy,’ Miriam murmured defensively.

  Ellen forbore to say anything. Miriam was a softie. That would never change.

  ‘Your mother thinks I’m going to be a neglectful wife and mother,’ Miriam confided glumly as she took a doughnut from the plate.

  ‘What!’

  ‘She gave Ben a real earful. I was so mad I nearly went and had it out with her.’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’ Ellen demanded.

  Miriam shrugged. ‘I got as far as Blackbird’s Field and then I lost my nerve. Your mother’s a very intimidating woman.’

  ‘Who are you telling. The cheek of her to say that about you. The trouble with Mam is she’s got no one to boss around at home now. Well
, she needn’t think she’s going to start interfering in our business, Miriam. I’m telling you now. Don’t take any nonsense. Put your foot down once and for all.’

  ‘Yes, Ellen,’ Miriam said meekly. Grinning.

  Ellen laughed. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Have you heard anything from Casanova?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘He’d know better than to tangle with Doug, I’d say,’ Miriam said scornfully. ‘He was always good at running away when the going got tough.’

  ‘Ah Miriam, stop,’ Ellen said unhappily. Just because she’d refused to let Chris back into her life didn’t mean that she didn’t still love him. Even though Miriam spoke the truth, it hurt to hear it. Ellen was trying not to think about Chris at all. It was much easier to blank him out of her mind than to torment herself with If onlys and Whys.

  ‘Did you hear what Jimmy said to Denise?’ Miriam changed the subject. A year ago their friend had found out that her husband, Jimmy, was having an affair with Esther Dowling, the bank manager’s secretary.

  ‘Whatever Jimmy says wouldn’t surprise me. He’s an ignorant two-faced shit,’ Ellen declared.

  ‘Yeah, well wait until you hear this. He told Denise that once she starts working with us, he’s reducing her housekeeping money. Esther’s buying a house in Swords and Mister Generosity’s going to help furnish it, even though he’s still living at home with Denise most of the time.’

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Isn’t he a peach? He doesn’t give two hoots about his kids. Esther says jump. He says how high? And Denise still does his washing for him.’ Miriam shook her head at her friend’s folly.

  ‘She’s crazy. I hope we make a fortune. I hope we make so much money that she can tell him to go and take one big running jump for himself. You don’t know how often I say thank God I’m not dependent on anyone for money. If I was married to someone like Jimmy McMahon, I’d shoot myself.’

  Miriam, with admirable restraint, refrained from saying that in her view, Chris Wallace was just as big a rat as Jimmy McMahon.

  ‘What on earth does Esther Dowling see in that long lanky streak of misery?’ Ellen wondered.

  ‘What does he see in Esther Dowling? Did you ever hear anything like her? Yakkity, yak, yak, yak!’ Miriam retorted.

  ‘I know. And she’s such a man-chaser. Remember years ago we all went to Cora Nugent’s wedding and Esther got the hots for Dermot Dunne and made him give her a lift home?’ Ellen grinned.

  ‘Yeah, and she left her jacket in the back of his car on purpose so he’d have to see her again. Then she rang him to say she had tickets to go to the Abbey. And he was too nice to say no thanks, so he went drinking for the afternoon and then fell asleep and snored the whole way through the performance. I’ll never forget him telling us about it afterwards.’

  They guffawed at the memory.

  ‘Dermot Dunne’s a gas man. He’s a great sense of humour,’ Miriam said fondly.

  ‘He’d want a sense of humour to go on a date with Wishy-Washy Dowling,’ Ellen drawled.

  ‘It’s lovely having a few hours to ourselves, isn’t it?’ Miriam was enjoying her morning immensely. It was now the first week in September and the children were all back at school. Miriam was making the most of her few hours freedom every day. She and Ellen had driven into town to buy tiles for the kitchen area of The Deli.

  ‘We’d better get a move on, I suppose. The kids will be off school in another hour.’ Ellen finished her tea regretfully. It was nice being a lady of leisure for a while.

  ‘I need to get some golden syrup. Julie Ann loves it on her rice pudding. She never gets rice pudding or semolina or apple crumble at home. Ice cream and jelly seems to be Emma’s only dessert recipe.’ Miriam neatly arranged her plate and cup for the waitress to clear away.

  ‘I know. Emma can’t cook for nuts. Julie Ann stuffs herself when she comes to stay with me,’ Ellen remarked as they walked down the narrow stairs that led on to Henry Street.

  ‘I couldn’t go away knowing my baby was in an incubator in hospital. Could you?’ Miriam asked. She’d been shocked when Emma had asked her to mind Julie Ann so that she could go on holidays to the South of France for a week.

  ‘I couldn’t either. I’d be worried sick but that’s Emma for you. Maternal she ain’t,’ Ellen said dryly as she pulled up the hood of her anorak to protect her from the drizzling rain that an autumnal wind whipped into their faces.

  Emma stretched catlike on her lounger and yawned. She’d been having a wonderful snooze. The sun was warm on her limbs. The fragrance of Ambre Solaire mingled with the scents of rose, jasmine and magnolia on the breeze. Vincent had gone for a game of golf and she was content to laze beside the pool in the lush grounds of the hotel.

  The afternoon sun sparkled on the turquoise water of the enormous kidney-shaped pool. Big urns of scarlet and pink geraniums were a riot of colour against the whitewashed balustraded steps that led up to the hotel. The emerald cushions on the loungers were soft and luxurious. Huge umbrellas offered shade from the harshest rays. Palm trees dotted the verdant lawns. Emma was in her element. She’d give anything to spend another week here with Vincent. It was wonderful to be away from all her worries. As though she’d jumped into a time warp, the way they did in The Twilight Zone. If only she could stay here. She didn’t want to go home.

  Andrew was going to be in hospital for another ten days at least. Julie Ann was at Miriam’s. Emma wasn’t the slightest bit concerned about her. Miriam was a born mother. There was no reason, really, why they couldn’t stay longer. Unfortunately, Emma knew Vincent wouldn’t be keen about the idea. He wasn’t happy about leaving the baby, even though he’d had to admit Andrew was in the safest place possible. One week without his parents wasn’t going to make any difference to his progress.

  They phoned the hospital twice a day, morning and evening, and the reports were satisfactory. Vincent had phoned his mother today. Emma hadn’t bothered to talk to Mrs Munroe. She didn’t want to hear disapproving sniffs down the line. Emma knew Ma Munroe was scandalised because she’d gone abroad for a week. Tough! It wasn’t any of the old bat’s business. Emma dismissed thoughts of her mother-in-law without a qualm. Life was too short to worry about the likes of her.

  Tomorrow she’d go shopping for a nice present for Miriam and she’d seen a beautiful red taffeta dress that would look gorgeous on Julie Ann. Even though it cost a fortune she’d buy it. Julie Ann would love showing off in it, Emma thought with satisfaction as she smoothed more oil onto her golden arms, regretting bitterly that she couldn’t get into her bikini. It was such a waste having to lie covered up in a beach wrap. By Christmas she was determined she’d be back to her svelte self.

  Emma picked up her Mills & Boon romance, took a sip of her Pimm’s and settled back to enjoy her read.

  Julie Ann sat with her cousins Rebecca and Stephanie as they ate their lunch and drank hot dark Bovril in the little white cups from Rebecca’s flask. They couldn’t go out to play because it was raining.

  Her mummy and daddy were on holidays in a very sunny place. They said that her new brother was in the hospital but Julie Ann wasn’t convinced about that. She had a deep suspicion that they’d brought him on holiday and left her at home.

  Julie Ann was most worried about this. Her plan to give him away to poor lonely Nannie Sheila hadn’t worked. Daddy had said Nannie was too old to take care of a baby. This was a big shock. How could she become a saint if she couldn’t give her baby brother away? Her halo hadn’t started to grow even a tiny bit, she thought despondently as she brushed her hand over her hair to see if there was any sign of it.

  What a pity Nannie Sheila was too old to take the baby. Nannie Pamela would be too old as well, although she didn’t look as old as Nannie Sheila. Nannie Pamela always smelt of lovely perfume and she wore lipstick and eyeshadow. But she was always going away on holidays, just like Mummy and Daddy, so she wouldn’t have time to mind a baby.

  The baby would have
to be given to someone who wasn’t too old. Someone who never went away on holidays. Someone who needed a baby. Julie Ann had been racking her brains for days to find such a person.

  Stephanie hiccuped. ‘’Scuse me,’ she said politely.

  ‘When I get the hiccups, my daddy gives me a fright and then it stops,’ Rebecca said helpfully.

  ‘My daddy puts a cold sixpence on my back and then he lets me spend it,’ Julie Ann boasted. She stared at Stephanie. Stephanie had no daddy. She lived with Auntie Ellen over the butcher’s shop. Julie Ann had an idea. A great idea.

  ‘Sure you’ve got no daddy, Stephanie?’

  ‘I do have a daddy. He just lives far away an’ I’ve never seen him,’ Stephanie retorted. She hated when Julie Ann said things like that.

  ‘I know that,’ Julie Ann said impatiently. ‘But if he doesn’t live with you, he can’t put a seed in your mummy’s belly button with his willie, sure he can’t?’

  ‘No,’ agreed Stephanie doubtfully, not sure where this was leading.

  ‘So that means your mummy can’t get a baby, doesn’t it?’ Julie Ann declared triumphantly.

  ‘You leave my mammy alone,’ Stephanie scowled.

  ‘But maybe she’d like a baby,’ Julie Ann persisted. ‘Wouldn’t you like a baby?’

  ‘Well, I might get one, one day.’ Stephanie sighed. It was her greatest wish to have a baby.

  ‘But you can have one,’ Julie Ann announced magnanimously. She felt like Cinderella’s fairy godmother. ‘You can have my baby brother. I’ll give him to you.’

  ‘Auntie Emma won’t give me her new baby,’ scoffed Stephanie unimpressed.

  ‘Yes, she will,’ Julie Ann declared airily. ‘She won’t mind at all, ’cos she knows you’re poor and have no daddy. Besides my daddy has lots of seeds I’m sure. He can always make another baby if he wants to.’