Divided Loyalties (53 page)

‘Please, Shauna, open it,’ he urged.

Reluctantly she took the red velvet box from him and opened it, to find a ring and earrings of diamonds and rubies. They were beautiful. He knew her tastes so well, she thought sadly. But how
typical of him to think that expensive jewellery would make everything all right.

‘I can’t take this.’ She handed it back to him.

‘Please, don’t be like that. Let’s try again,’ Greg pleaded. He shoved it back to her. He looked tired and worn and he was a lot greyer at his temples than before.

Shauna took a deep breath and placed the box on the sofa. ‘Greg, it’s like this. If you want us to get back together you’ve got to come home. Chloe doesn’t want to go
back to the Gulf and neither do I,’ she said flatly.

‘We don’t have to stay in the Gulf,’ he said excitedly. ‘I’ve been offered a job in Hong Kong! We’re expanding out there. I’ve great news for
you.’ His brown eyes were sparkling. ‘I was supposed to be going out early in the New Year but Pierre wants me to go next week. I know it’s Christmas but he’s offered us a
week at the company’s expense in any hotel of our choice. Just imagine it, Shauna. Christmas in Hong Kong. Chloe would love it!’

‘Are you mad!’ Shauna exclaimed, horrified. ‘She’d hate it. She’d be afraid Santa wouldn’t come. She’d have to try and make friends with whatever kids
were in the hotel. For God’s sake, Greg, use your head. What child wants to spend Christmas in a hotel?’

‘Aw, Shauna. It’s a great opportunity. How many children have the chance to travel the world and soak up new cultures like she’s had?’

‘She loves it at home,’ Shauna said exasperatedly. ‘Do you not realize that? She has what she’s always wanted. Family.’

‘Ah family . . . fucking family . . . there’s more to life than family,’ he said resentfully.

‘Actually there isn’t, Greg,’ she said quietly. ‘Family is what it’s all about and you never gave ours a chance,’ she added bitterly.

He flushed. ‘I suppose you’ll hold that against me for the rest of my life,’ he taunted.

‘I don’t know,’ Shauna said wearily, sitting down. Deep down she knew they were finished. Greg was never going to change. The fact that he was so excited about going to Hong
Kong proved that to her. He’d
never
settle in Ireland. ‘I think we have to be realistic,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s clear you don’t want to come home and
settle down and I don’t want to live abroad any more. Maybe it’s time to call it a day.’

Greg sat on the sofa opposite her. ‘I don’t want to call it a day,’ he exclaimed, staring at her in dismay.

‘You know what you have to do, then,’ she said, amazed at how calm she sounded. She stood up. ‘Greg, I’m not going to stay. I’m going to go back to the airport and
try to get a flight home. You need to think about things and I have our daughter’s play rehearsals to attend. We could sit here all night talking and get nowhere. The options are quite
simple. You decide.’

Greg said nothing. He looked bleak and miserable and she felt a pang of pity for him. She bent and kissed him on the cheek, glad that all her anger seemed to have momentarily evaporated. He was
never going to change. There was no point in denying that reality. She walked across the thickly carpeted floor and let herself out and never looked back. The red velvet box rested on the sofa
where she’d left it.

‘Oh, Shauna, the room’s absolutely gorgeous!’ Carrie exclaimed as she stood at the door of her father’s dining room and gazed in admiration at the
change her sister had wrought. The old décor had been insipid: peach floral wallpaper and peach curtains that had long faded. Shauna had scraped and sanded the walls and painted them a rich
burgundy and cream. She’d bought new cream curtains and two burgundy and cream lamps that threw a warm glow around the firelit room. It was intimate and inviting, especially on the grey,
gloomy, cold day that they’d all woken to. The table was dressed in Anna’s best linen tablecloth and Bobby had decorated it with a simple arrangement of holly and red carnations around
a wide red candle.

‘Champagne in the sitting room,’ Bobby announced gaily, his barbecue apron protecting his mauve shirt and black trousers.

‘How are things in the kitchen?’ Carrie asked as she divested herself of her coat and hat and bent down to help Hannah with hers.

‘To be honest, I’d be better off on my own. Dad’s got very slow, hasn’t he? He keeps getting in my way,’ Bobby whispered.

‘Do you want me to come out and help?’ she offered good-naturedly.

‘He won’t have it. Do or die, he’s going to repay you and Shauna for all the meals you’ve cooked for him. He’ll do and
I’ll
die,’ Bobby said
dramatically, speeding back to the kitchen.

‘Mom, this is a
great
Christmas,’ Chloe announced as she shrugged out of her new red coat with the soft furry collar. ‘Grandpa said that I could sit beside him,’
she added happily as she pranced into the sitting room to join her cousins.

The doorbell rang and Noel called out, ‘I’ll get that.’ He hurried out to the hall with the tea towel over his shoulder. ‘Come in, Mrs O’Neill, and you’re
very welcome,’ he said warmly to his neighbour, who stood at his front door with a huge pudding on a plate. It smelt divine.

‘Is that for us?’ Davey’s eyes widened.

‘It certainly is, love,’ she laughed.

‘We’ve
loads
of puddings,’ Davey announced gleefully to the others. Christmas pudding was his absolute favourite food after roast potatoes.

‘There was no need for that now, Mrs O’Neill. We’re delighted to have you here,’ Noel said warmly, ushering her into the hall and taking the pudding from her.

Bobby came out to greet her with a kiss. ‘Hi, hon, get in there and have a glass of champers and that will fix you,’ he ordered and she hugged him tightly. When her daughter had
phoned to say that they wouldn’t be coming until New Year because the youngest child had measles, she’d been devastated. She’d cried telling Noel the news, much to his dismay.

‘You’ll come and have dinner with us,’ he’d said firmly.

‘I couldn’t do that. You’ll just want to have all your family around you,’ she’d demurred.

‘Mrs O’Neill, you’re as dear to me as family. You’ve been a great friend to me.
And
given me sound advice,’ he added with an uncharacteristic twinkle in
his eye. ‘We’d be honoured if you’d dine with us.’

‘No, Noel, but thank you for asking,’ she’d said, to his disappointment.

‘Leave it to me,’ Bobby had said when his father informed him of the state of affairs, a week before he was due to fly home. He’d phoned Mrs O’Neill immediately.
‘Do you think I’m going to poison you, is that it?’ he demanded when she’d answered the phone. She burst out laughing.

‘Go on, ya little rip,’ she exclaimed.

‘
Please
have Christmas dinner with us?’ he begged. ‘We’re all so grateful to you for the kindness you’ve shown us all over the years. And you introduced
Dad to bowling. That alone deserves a nosh-up. Please, please come. Or have you a secret lover you want to spend Christmas with?’ he teased.

‘Now that you mention it,’ she responded, ‘when are we going to meet
your
young man?’ Bobby had told her all about Anton in the summer.

‘Sooner rather than later, I hope, but we’ll get Christmas out of the way first. If Dad and I survive cooking a Christmas meal together, we’ll survive anything. So won’t
you come to us for dinner?’ he urged.

‘All right then,’ she agreed. ‘If you’re
sure
that I won’t be intruding.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Bobby had chided, delighted that she’d agreed. Now, a week later, he shooed her into the sitting room.

‘Go and put your feet up by the fire. Dad and I are coming in to have a drink in a minute. We just have a few more little chores to do. Carrie, look after our special guest,’ Bobby
ordered, following his father back into the kitchen.

‘I just need you to spoon the oil over the parboiled potatoes for me,’ he explained to Noel. ‘They’re the last to go into the oven, then we can have a quick drink, take
the turkey out of the oven to rest, steam the veg nicely al dente, serve the starters and we’re away on a hack.’

‘Right you are,’ said Noel, who was thoroughly enjoying himself despite being a tad flustered.

Bobby heated the butter and oil in the microwave he’d insisted on buying, until it was boiling and showed his father how to dip the floury spuds into it with a slotted spoon before placing
them on the roasting tray. The smells emanating from the oven were tantalizing and Noel was looking forward to his dinner. While he did the potatoes, Bobby put the finishing touches to his starter
of roasted peppers, olives and feta cheese. He was very good under pressure, Noel acknowledged as he watched him garnish the dish with fresh basil. They were working very well as a team. They had
shared the preparation of the vegetables and the stuffing the night before and Bobby had got up early to dress the turkey while Noel had set out their breakfast. Then they’d joined the rest
of the family for Mass and the visit to the grave.

Noel felt a rare sense of contentment as he worked with his son in the kitchen. He’d never dreamed that they would prepare a family Christmas meal together. If he hadn’t been so
bitter and foolish in the past it could have happened long ago, he thought with a pang of guilt.
Forget about it now
, he told himself as he oiled the last potato. The past was the past; it
was time to let go of it.

‘There you go, chef. Potatoes are ready,’ he said with satisfaction.

‘So’s the starter. Let’s go and have that drink,’ Bobby said, taking the roasting tray from him and sliding it onto the lower shelf of the oven. When he took out the
turkey he’d move them up to the top shelf to crisp them golden.

There was a happy buzz in the sitting room when they joined their guests. Mrs O’Neill was sitting, pink-cheeked from her champagne, beside the fire, with Chloe perched on the arm of her
chair showing her the new Barbie Bride doll that Santa had brought her. It was just like the one that Olivia had. She was thrilled with it. Shauna was cuddling Hannah who was ready to fall asleep
after her early start and Carrie, Dan and Olivia were watching Davey do magic card tricks with great panache.

‘Let’s toast the chefs,’ Carrie proposed gaily, raising her glass. ‘Dinner smells divine.’

‘He should have been a chef,’ Noel said proudly. ‘He’s as good as any of those fellas on the TV.’

‘Say that after you’ve had the dinner,’ Bobby grinned, his face flushed and his hair dishevelled from the heat of the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later they were tucking into his starter with hearty appetites and murmurs of appreciation.

‘That went down well enough,’ Bobby murmured to his father as they carried the dirty plates back into the kitchen.

‘It was very tasty,’ approved Noel.

‘Oh my
God
! Look at the fucking cat, Dad!’ Bobby yelped as he opened the kitchen door and saw Twiskers on the table, where the turkey steamed succulently, with her nose
stuck in the stuffing.

‘Ya brat of hell,’ Noel exclaimed, swatting the culprit with his tea towel. Twiskers jumped off the table and meowed indignantly as Noel gave her another whack of the towel, and then
she escaped into the safety of the hall.

‘What are we going to do?’ Noel whispered, looking over his shoulder to make sure no-one had followed them into the kitchen. He gazed at the turkey, horrified. ‘We’ll
just have to serve the ham on its own.’

‘Stay calm.’ Bobby put the plates down and ran his fingers through his hair. He inspected the turkey. Twiskers had taken a bite out of a leg, as well as sampling the stuffing.

‘Look, if no-one knows, it won’t bother them. I’ll say nothing if you don’t,’ he proposed.

‘Would they get food poisoning?’ Noel asked doubtfully.

‘No. Not at all.’ Bobby hoped he sounded convincing. He wasn’t quite sure, to tell the truth, but he wasn’t going to let on to his father. ‘Look, I’ll carve
away the bits that Twiskers was at and we’ll put them in a dish for her, even though the little brat doesn’t deserve it, and I’ll do the same with the stuffing. I’ll carve
from the other side for the dinner and we’ll forget about it. OK?’

‘If you think it’s all right, then we’ll do what you say,’ Noel agreed, relieved. ‘You couldn’t have a Christmas dinner without turkey, sure you
couldn’t?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Bobby agreed as he began to carve away the offending bits of the bird.

Fifteen minutes later the guests were demolishing their Christmas feast with much praise and many compliments to the chefs, oblivious of the drama in the kitchen earlier.

Bobby raised his glass. ‘To Dad,’ he said, with a little conspiratorial wink at his father.

A beam of pleasure crossed Noel’s face. He felt strangely happy. In spite of the disaster in the kitchen his family meal was a success. He had them all around him and even though some
things caused him concern, like Bobby’s . . . problem . . . and Shauna’s broken marriage, they didn’t seem to matter right now.

‘To the best grandpa in the universe and outer space even,’ Davey toasted.

‘To a great neighbour.’ Mrs O’Neill smiled at him.

‘To a sound father-in-law,’ Dan said firmly.

‘To Dad.’ Shauna and Carrie lifted their glasses.

Twiskers came and rubbed her face against his leg. He leaned down and patted her forgivingly. His little companion deserved a Christmas banquet the same as the rest of them.

It was the best Christmas he’d had in many, many years. God had been very good to him, he reflected as he stroked the linen tablecloth gently. He felt very close to his wife today. He knew
that she’d be very happy to see them all like this, and that was the greatest gift of all.

‘I’m bushed.’ Bobby was yawning as he lay sprawled in front of the fire in Carrie’s sitting room.

‘I’m pissed.’ Carrie grinned as she took a slug of her brandy Alexander.

‘And I’m off to bed.’ Dan uncoiled himself from the sofa where he’d been sitting with his arm round Carrie. ‘’Night, you guys.’