Authors: Patricia Scanlan
And Nick was in love with Helen. His tenderness and protective gestures spoke volumes. His proud gaze said more than words. His happiness was evident. He looked years younger. Happiness did that
to people. He was only forty-two anyway. But the strain seemed to have gone from his face. He looked carefree.
‘Oh God, oh God. Why? Why did You let me fall in love with him when You had him planned for Helen?’ she muttered. Her resolve not to cry was weakening. She wanted to give in to
herself and bawl and run away. She couldn’t. Helen would know something was up. She couldn’t ruin Helen’s happiness. No mother could have given Paula the love Helen had. She owed
it to her aunt to pretend to be happy for her. She owed it to her aunt to forget Nick and all the feelings she harboured for him. For once in her life, Paula was going to have to behave in a most
unselfish manner. Was she capable of it?
She sat in the tiny cubicle, composing herself. She took a deep breath and opened the door. She sprayed a little perfume behind her ears and retouched her lipstick. Nothing like war paint for
hiding behind, she thought ruefully, inspecting her reflection. She looked fine. Normal. Drawing on every resource she possessed, Paula walked out to where Helen and Nick were standing.
‘Come on, folks,’ she said briskly, patting Helen’s unmistakable bump and smiling at her aunt. ‘If that child is as hungry as I am, she’s in trouble. I’m
starving. Let’s go and have this lunch you’ve been talking about. I want to hear all the news.’
‘We want to hear all yours.’ Helen slipped an arm through her niece’s.
‘My news is dead boring compared to yours.’ Paula laughed with false gaiety. ‘I want to hear all about the baby. What are you going to call it? Do you want a boy or a girl?
Whose house are you living in, or are you being ultra-modern and having separate residences?’
‘We’re making it up as we go along.’ Nick laughed, taking the trolley from her and pushing it with ease.
‘Wait until your mother hears!’ Helen made a wry face.
‘She’ll be delighted,’ Paula said firmly, knowing it was the truth. ‘Have you told Anthony yet?’
Helen’s face darkened. ‘No,’ she said. ‘When I think of all the years of misery I went through thinking it was my fault I couldn’t have a baby. I . . . no . . . I
haven’t told him yet. I don’t think he’s entitled to know. Nick and I are thinking of putting the two houses up for sale and buying one together. I’ll tell him
then.’
Paula felt her heartache almost choke her. Buying a house together sounded so intimate. It indicated long-term commitment. How was she going to cope with this for the rest of her life? One thing
was sure, she’d have to get a place of her own now. A masochist she was not. Watching Nick and Helen together in an intimate relationship would send her over the edge.
Lunch was a nightmare for her. In an effort to pretend that she was delighted for the two people she held so dear, Paula kept up a stream of gay, witty conversation. She told them of the ups and
downs of being a courier and about her and Jennifer’s life abroad. By the time they finally got home to Helen’s house she was mentally and physically exhausted. Pleading great fatigue
as a result of an all-night party followed by two flights, Paula insisted she had to go and lie down. Much to Helen’s disappointment.
‘But we’ve so much to talk about, and Nick’s got to get back to work. I was really looking forward to having you to myself.’
‘I’ll just lie down for an hour,’ Paula promised. She was dizzy from the strain of it all. And she hadn’t fibbed about being tired. She was dead on her feet. Ten minutes
later, she was lying in her much-loved familiar bedroom. It had started to rain outside. The blue skies of her homecoming had turned leaden and grey and much more wintry. Rain lashed hard against
the window, the steady drumming made her feel cosy and snug in her comfortable bed. Too tired and numb to dwell on what had happened, Paula’s eyes closed and sleep cloaked her misery for a
while.
‘She’s upset, Nick.’ Helen sighed. ‘I know she’s making a big effort. She hardly ate any lunch. She just picked at it.’
‘Helen, the girl’s exhausted. She didn’t get to bed at all last night. She had two flights, she didn’t know whether she was on her head or her heels. She’ll be fine
when she wakes up.’ Nick put a comforting arm around her and gave her a kiss.
She snuggled in against him. ‘I’m going to phone Maura this afternoon. Now that Paula knows, I don’t mind telling anyone.’
‘Just one thing struck me,’ Nick said reflectively. ‘When we sell the houses, Paula might feel she’s got to get a flat or something. As far as I’m concerned
she’ll always have a home with us.’
‘Oh, Nick. That is kind,’ Helen said gratefully. ‘Paula’s been so good to me, I’d hate her to feel left out.’
‘Well she won’t be, so stop worrying. Now I’d better get back to work, I believe it’s very expensive rearing children,’ he added, patting her bump.
‘Daddy’s going to work, baby, be good for your mother.’ He held his hand over her stomach and was rewarded a few minutes later by a faint rippling movement. ‘Isn’t
that something else?’ he said in wonder. ‘I never thought this would happen to me.’
‘Me neither, Nick. I can’t believe it. I’ve never been so happy in my life.’ Helen put her arms around him and kissed him ardently. ‘Do you have to go back to
work?’ she murmured, nuzzling his earlobe.
‘I could delay it.’ Nick traced his lips along the side of her neck, down to the tiny pulse that beat at the base of her throat.
‘Will we go into your house?’ Helen sighed with pleasure.
‘Why?’ Nick raised his head and looked at her in surprise.
‘Well . . . Paula . . . you know?’ She made a little face.
‘Paula’ll have to get used to it because we’re going to be doing a lot of it.’ Nick laughed. ‘Anyway I’d say she’s dead to the world by now, but if you
really want to go to my house, we’ll go. It’s a shame to waste that lovely fire though.’
‘I suppose it is a bit daft.’ Helen began to undo his shirt buttons. ‘Paula would laugh at me for being so old-fashioned.’
‘Yes she would,’ Nick agreed. ‘Now forget about Paula and start doing wild, wanton, wicked things to me, like you did last night.’
‘You’re an insatiable beast, Nick Russell,’ Helen teased, and giggled as he growled and gave her a lovebite.
An hour later, she lay stretched on the sofa in front of the fire. Nick had added more coal and logs to it before he left and it blazed up the chimney, the logs hissed and crackled and sent out
a lovely scent of pine. Helen felt utterly relaxed and content and sensual after their lovemaking. It was still raining outside. She didn’t care. It was luxury to lie in the comfort of her
sitting-room, listening to the elements outside, knowing that she didn’t have to go out in it. It was a treat to have the day off work. Making love in front of the fire in the middle of a
working afternoon seemed so decadent. Helen grinned. She’d never made love on the sofa in the afternoon with Anthony. He’d been strictly a bedroom man.
How her life had changed in the last year. When Paula went off on her second tour of duty, she’d felt even worse than the first time. The house had seemed so empty. Nick knew she was
depressed. He took to calling in much more often than before. He would invite her into his house for coffee. Nick was very easy to talk to. She didn’t need to put on a façade with him.
And he didn’t need to with her. One gorgeous sunny Sunday afternoon, he’d suggested going to Howth for a walk. It had been delightful. And they’d had fun. They started going out
at the weekends and usually ended up having a Chinese meal. They were extremely relaxed in each other’s company. One night, it had just seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to
kiss him and thank him for a wonderful evening. The kiss had turned into a night of passion she would never forget.
Helen smiled at the memory. Sex with Nick was incredible. It made her feel young and vibrant again. As young and vibrant as Paula was. She’d looked like a model at the airport, in her
peach and white with the lovely tan. Helen sighed. Maybe Nick was right, maybe Paula was just tired. Once she had time to get over the shock, she’d be thrilled for her and Nick. If ever they
were lucky enough to get married, she’d ask Paula to be her bridesmaid. It would be a lovely way of sharing the happiest day of her life, Helen smiled as a shower of sparks flew up the
chimney. She wished her niece would wake up, they had so much to talk about.
Paula stretched, yawned, and stretched again. It took her a minute to remember where she was. It was dark and rain was pelting against the window. Home, she was home. Happiness
flickered and then she remembered. Nick was in love with Helen. They were going to have a baby. Tears brimmed in her eyes as misery engulfed her. She felt a great tightness around her chest. How
ironic that she had been worried that Nick might be seeing someone. In her wildest dreams, she’d never considered Nick and Helen as a couple. And they were going to have a baby. It was worse
than her worst nightmare. Burying her face in her pillow, Paula sobbed her heart out.
Chapter Sixty-One
‘
Should old acquaintance be forgot
. . .’ the Matthews family chorused on the stroke of midnight as they all stood in a circle holding hands, singing in
the New Year. On one side of Paula stood Helen, on the other, Nick. She was holding both their hands, pretending to be as happy as a lark, as she sang the rousing chorus. But she was intensely
aware of Nick’s hand in hers. He and Helen had arrived that afternoon to spend the New Year in St Margaret’s Bay. They were staying in the hotel despite Maura and Pete’s
protestations. They had wanted them to have their room and they would have slept on the couch. Helen wouldn’t hear of it. Paula was relieved that they were staying at the hotel. Being with
Helen and Nick was very difficult to endure.
‘Happy New Year, Paula.’ Nick enfolded her in an embrace and kissed her cheek lightly.
‘The same to you,’ she murmured, returning his kiss. Paula savoured the brief precious moment. Then Helen kissed her, and hugged her tightly, her rounded bump an irrefutable reminder
to Paula that Nick could never be hers.
Would this night never end, she thought unhappily as they all trooped to the front door to let out the old year and bring in the new. Usually Paula revelled in the New Year celebrations. Bells
were ringing, car horns tooted, there were great sounds of revelry from the hotel. She wanted to clamp her hands over her ears and shut the din out. She wanted to hide up in her bedroom, but there
was no privacy there either. Rebecca, her sister, had come home from Cork for a few days and was full of chat and gossip.
She had nowhere of her own to go to. Now that Nick was more or less living with Helen she felt uncomfortable in the house in Dublin. It was time to think of the future. She’d been putting
it off ever since she’d come down home. Paula shivered in the cold night air and slipped back inside to the now empty sitting-room. She poured herself a brandy and went into the kitchen and
sat down at the table. A fire still blazed in the grate, its embers red and glowing in the half-light. This kitchen had hardly changed since she was a child. The scrubbed pine dresser full of
shining crockery. The pretty gingham curtains which her mother made every other year matched the cloth on the table, which was laden with sandwiches and cakes and buns and bracks. The old chiming
clock that had been chipped years ago, when Rebecca had knocked it off the mantelpiece, was still going strong. The small pantry off the kitchen, where her mother kept her homemade jams and
marmalades and chutneys and her soda breads and scones, gave forth mouth-watering aromas that evoked memories of her childhood. When she’d been a little girl, her mother would go into the
pantry and cut a slice of freshly baked brown bread, butter it and sprinkle sugar on it. Paula would stand beside her, watching her every move. Then she’d take her precious slice of brown
bread and sugar and sit on the back doorstep and eat it slowly to make it last as long as possible.
Paula sighed at the memory. She wished she was a child again, free of all her troubles and heartache. It had been good to come home. Her parents’ joy at seeing her was balm to her bruised
soul. She visited her married sisters and brothers and played with her nieces and nephews. Their lives were so different to hers. Louise, her eldest sister, had three children. Her life and
conversation revolved around them. Thomas worked on the fishing boats with their father and had one baby. Her other two brothers were in England. Rebecca worked in an insurance company in Cork.
It gave Paula a little jolt to realize that she was far closer and had more in common with Jennifer and Beth than she did with her own siblings. She was a bit like an outsider in her own family.
And it was her own fault. She’d been so interested in making a life for herself in Dublin that she’d neglected to look after her relationships at home, especially with her sisters.
True, they always made a fuss of her when she came home and they loved hearing about her exciting life abroad but she couldn’t confide her woes to them as she could to Jenny and Beth. She had
told Jenny all about Nick. Paula knew that her sisters had an image of her as a glamorous sophisticate who had a glitzy high-flying lifestyle. It was an image she had fostered. Paula liked the way
they looked up to her. They thought she was successful. They were impressed by the way men flocked around her. How could she turn around now and tell them that she’d made a complete and utter
fool of herself by falling in love with a man who had not the slightest interest in her, because he was in love with their aunt. Glitzy sophisticates on pedestals did
not
make disastrous
mistakes like that.
So she put on a brave face and tried to get into the Christmas spirit. The old traditions of her childhood still existed. Her father was still on the quest for the perfect Christmas tree. The
crib and candle ceremony were still her mother’s pride and joy, only this time it was the grandchildren who placed the statues in the crib and watched with awe as the Christmas candle was
lit.