Two For Joy (14 page)

Noreen walked out of the surgery feeling almost happy. Douglas was right, she had been under stress in the years leading up to her marriage and now she was putting herself under even more stress being hung up on getting pregnant. From now on she
would
enjoy her life with Oliver. Hopefully in six months she'd be pregnant anyway and life would be peachy. And she was going to get a job, she thought, feeling decidedly up. She'd had enough lolling about the house. A part-time job would suit her fine, and the idea of being a surgery nurse was quite appealing. It would be different to anything she had done before. She'd get to know a lot more people around the locality.
And
she was going to join the health club too, she decided.

It was so easy to sink into depression. She'd had enough of it. The last two months had been miserable. Time to nip it in the bud. Noreen got into the car and headed in the direction of the Lake View.

The annual membership was steep enough and as she wrote out the cheque she reflected gratefully that Oliver was very generous with money. He never questioned her spending and always seemed glad when she bought something new for herself. He was so different from her mean, spiteful, controlling father. Noreen frowned as she remembered how her mother would have to ask his permission to light the fire. Her father had nearly put her off men for life, Noreen thought grimly.

Oliver might not be very demonstrative in his affections but he was a good, kind husband and she'd been very moody with him lately. She'd make it up to him.

It was a cracker of a day. The lake shimmered in the pale magnolia sun. The air was crisp, bracing. It would be nice to go for a walk. She walked briskly through the landscaped grounds of the hotel. Russet, cinnamon and gold leaves crunched underfoot, and a squirrel scampered up the bark of a tree, his red bushy tail disappearing into the sun-dappled foliage. She pushed the creaking, groaning, red swing gates that had been there since her childhood, and came on to the tree-lined path that circled the lake. The water lapped gently against the shore. It was so peaceful here, the silence broken only by birdsong. She and Oliver had often walked here when they had been dating. She hadn't been for a walk with Oliver for ages. They should start doing things together. Noreen sighed. He worked so damn hard. He was driven. It wasn't for the money. It was as if his work affirmed him, who he was, what he was. It hurt sometimes that his work seemed to fulfil him far more than their relationship did. What had made him turn to his work rather than his relationship for sustenance?

Was it a result of his rearing? It wouldn't surprise Noreen. Cora Flynn was a tough cookie, domineering and bossy. In the time she had known her, Noreen had never heard Oliver's mother ever thank him, or give him a word of praise for all that he did for her. Her ingratitude and unreasonable demands infuriated Noreen, but she'd learned early on in their relationship to hold her tongue. She had been giving out to her husband about Cora expecting so much from him and he had turned and said quietly to her, ‘Noreen, you looked after your mother when she needed looking after. I have to look after mine. I thought you of all people would understand that.'

There was no answer to that. How could she argue that her mother had been a gentle, undemanding soul, while Cora was a manipulative, demanding bitch? Oliver had a sense of duty that had been ingrained in him since childhood, and Noreen realized with dismay that she could never change that. Resentment niggled at her, though, and her relationship with Cora was prickly and uncomfortable.

Cora was confined to bed at the moment with a bad cold. She could call in and see if she needed any shopping done, it would mean Oliver wouldn't have to do it. And he'd be pleased that she had made an effort. Pity she didn't have a key. She'd have to get Cora out of bed and that wouldn't go down too well. Oliver had a key, but Noreen was still a ‘visitor' in Cora's eyes, not part of the family.
Never
part of the family.

She walked along for another half a mile, trying to psych herself up to calling on her detested mother-in-law.

‘Come on, do it for Oliver,' she murmured, skimming a stone across the lake. ‘Be a good wife!'

She gave a wry smile and began to walk back to the hotel.

Cora was surprised to see her. ‘And to what do I owe this honour?' she asked tartly.

‘Oliver told me you weren't feeling the best. Would you like me to do any shopping for you?' Noreen responded cheerfully, determined not to be riled.

‘Oh no! I'll get Oliver to do my shopping,' Cora replied in a tone that suggested Noreen wouldn't be capable.

‘It's just he's up to his eyes, I've hardly seen him this week, so I thought I could do it to help him out.' Noreen tried a different tack.

‘Oh! Well, if he's that busy, it's quite all right,' Cora sniffed. ‘I don't want to put anyone out. I'll manage myself.'

Oh fuck!
Noreen cursed silently. Now she thinks Oliver put me up to it. ‘I just thought I'd pop in and suggest I'd do the shopping and maybe cook a bit of dinner for yourself and himself. He doesn't know I'm here – it would be a surprise for him,' she said casually. If Cora knew she was rattled she'd capitalize on it.

Her mother-in-law's beady eyes sparkled at the notion of her precious son having his dinner in her house. ‘Get me a pen and a piece of paper out of my bureau there and I'll do a list. I don't want any fast-food nonsense now. You can get a nice piece of fresh cod, seeing as it's Friday.' Cora still didn't eat meat on Friday, despite the fact that the Church had rescinded that particular church law years ago. ‘Yes, I think cod would be the best. You can steam it. That shouldn't be
too
difficult for you.' She was busy writing her list, so she didn't see Noreen's lips tighten in anger at her insulting barb.

‘Could you make real parsley sauce? I don't want packet stuff,' she demanded truculently.

‘I could, yes, Mrs Flynn.' Noreen kept her temper under admirable control.

‘Get a couple of carrots and parsnips, you can mash them together and put a good bit of butter and pepper in them, that's the way Oliver likes them,' Cora ordered.

Yes your bloody majesty.
‘Fine, can I get you anything from the chemist? Are you all right for paracetamol? Would you like any hot drinks?'

‘I don't believe in any of those things. Hot milk and pepper and Vick's on my chest is good enough for the likes of me,' Cora retorted.

‘I won't be long,' Noreen said grimly. The woman was a briar, there was no denying that. She scowled as she let herself out of the cottage and drove back to the town to get the groceries.

When she got back, Cora was dressed.

‘You should have stayed in bed, Mrs Flynn,' she said lightly as she started to unpack the bags.

‘That doesn't go there. Let me put it away.' Cora grabbed a jar of marmalade out of her hand. ‘Now start peeling the potatoes. This is the knife I use. And call me when you have the vegetables peeled so I can show you which saucepan I use. And I'll put the salt in, I don't like too much or too little. I'll go and sit in the parlour for a while.'

Thank God for that.
Noreen glowered at her mother-in-law's retreating back. She swiftly peeled the potatoes, and turned her attention to the carrots and parsnips.

‘Make sure to cut the vegetables the same size so that they cook evenly.' Cora was back. Noreen almost jumped – she hadn't heard her coming into the kitchen.

‘Tsk! You've left half the potato on the skins. Such waste. You young women don't know the meaning of frugality. I should have done it myself,' Cora remarked crossly, picking up a potato peeling and holding it contemptuously between finger and thumb.

Noreen remained resolutely silent.
She's old. She lives alone. Say nothing.
She chopped the parsley vigorously, waiting for the next criticism. She didn't have to wait long.

‘You've chopped that far too early, you haven't even made the roux for the white sauce,' Cora scolded as she cut a chunk of creamy butter to melt in a saucepan. There were saucepans everywhere; she wouldn't entertain the idea of a microwave or a dishwasher.

‘Go and phone Oliver and tell him his dinner will be ready in the next hour and to make sure he's home,' Cora instructed.

‘Yes, Mrs Flynn,' Noreen said dryly.
How high exactly do you want me to jump?

‘Why are we having dinner at Ma's?' Oliver sounded puzzled.

‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.' Noreen kept her voice down. She had gone into the parlour to ring Oliver, not wanting Cora to earwig.

‘Who's cooking?' She could sense the smile in his voice.

‘Just get your ass here soon, I've already been lectured about my potato peelings and chopping the parsley too early,' Noreen whispered.

‘How did it go at the doctor?'

‘I'll tell you when we get home. Don't be long, sure you won't? At least you won't have to go and do the shopping. I did it earlier.'

‘That was kind of you.'

‘That's me. All heart!' Noreen laughed. ‘See you soon.'

‘You didn't have to scurry off to the parlour.' Cora was highly unimpressed.

‘Better signal there.' Noreen fibbed. That shut her mother-in-law up for a second or two.

‘You can set the table, dear,' she commanded. She only called Noreen ‘dear' when she was annoyed.

Ha!
thought Noreen triumphantly as she opened the drawer in the dresser and took out an embroidered tablecloth. She'd got one over on Cora. She knew she was being
extremely
childish but sometimes Cora drove her to it.

It was with a huge sense of relief that she heard Oliver's car crunch up the drive. She was ready to strangle her mother-in-law, who had found fault with her table setting, her washing-up habits (too much water and detergent used – ‘I don't have shares in the ESB you know!') and the fact that she'd bought wholegrain brown bread and not a soda scone.

‘Hello, women!' Oliver said cheerfully as he walked into the kitchen. ‘That smells nice.'

‘Oh, I hope it will be all right, Oliver,' Cora said tartly. ‘Your wife and I have very different ways of coo—'

‘It will be fine, Ma.' Oliver gave his mother a stern look. She turned back to the cooker, annoyed. He winked at Noreen, who threw her eyes up to heaven.

Dinner was a terse affair. Cora was petulant and abrasive; nevertheless she polished off a huge plateful of dinner, Noreen noted. She was obviously beginning to feel better. ‘Oliver and I will have our tea in the parlour, and don't use too much water washing up,' Cora decreed imperiously with a wave of her hand as she stood up from the table.

‘I'll do the washing up.' Oliver uncoiled his long legs from the chair and started to clear the dishes from the table.

‘I'm sure Noreen won't mind doing it, after all you've been working hard all day and she is more or less a lady of leisure, aren't you, dear?' She challenged Noreen with a piercing stare.

‘Oliver, go sit with your mother, she's poorly, and I've had the pleasure of her company for the last couple of hours.' Noreen smiled at Cora. ‘Haven't I, dear?' she said sweetly. She'd prefer to wash up ten times over in peace on her own than to have to endure Cora for much longer. ‘Go on, Oliver,' she gave her husband a little push.

‘It won't take us a minute,' he protested.

‘Go on, Oliver, I'll have it done in a jiffy,' Noreen assured him. She filled the basin to the brim with hot water and added in a good squeeze of washing-up liquid for good measure. It was amazing how used she'd got to a dishwasher, she thought in amusement as she scoured the saucepans. ‘It was far from dishwashers you were reared,' she murmured as she rubbed at a particularly stubborn stain. Gimlet-eyed Cora would spot it in a second and remark on it if she didn't do it properly.

Maybe Oliver might like to go for a drink later. That would be nice, she thought. It would be good to spend more time together. Lately he seemed to be working all the hours God sent. She poured boiling water on to loose tea-leaves and took three china cups and saucers from the dresser. Cora did not approve of teabags or mugs – ‘proper tea' should always be served in fine china according to her mother-in-law and perhaps she was right, Noreen acknowledged. Cora always served a very satisfying cup of tea. She placed milk and sugar on a tray and shook out some biscuits on to a plate. Another half hour max, and they should be able to leave, she comforted herself.

The fire was blazing up the chimney in the parlour, casting dancing golden shadows on the walls. It was an old-fashioned but cosy room, with chintz sofa and chairs dressed with pristine white antimacassars. A mahogany sideboard held an array of silver-framed sepia photographs of long-dead parents and grandparents, and in pride of place was a picture of Cora and her husband, Liam, on their wedding day. Cora sat ramrod straight on a hard wooden chair with Liam standing behind her, hand on her shoulder. Liam was a handsome, straight-backed man with a kind face and Noreen saw a lot of him in Oliver.

‘Thank you,' Cora clipped as Noreen handed her her tea. ‘I always put a doily under the biscuits when I'm serving them in the parlour,' she added sharply as she helped herself to milk and sugar.

‘Did you not put the doily under the biscuits? Tsk,' teased Oliver, his blue eyes twinkling as she handed him his tea.

‘Sorry!' she said with mock humility as she sat down beside him and took a sip of tea. Maybe instead of going out for a drink, they could open a bottle of wine at home and go to bed early. It was getting close to her ovulation time, and tonight might be the lucky night, she found herself thinking.
Stop it,
she chastised herself.
No more thinking like that from now on.