Heartless (6 page)

Chapter Eight

Sophia sat in an armchair watching Nessa. Her grandmother fiddled with the buttons on her blouse, before looking into the mirror to check that she had no lipstick on her teeth.

“How do I look?” Nessa asked, as she twirled around to face her granddaughter, pleased with her effort. “I’m wearing my best Ester London lippy, you know, not some cheapie from the Pound Shop.”

“It’s Estee Lauder,” Sophia laughed, “and you look really lovely, Nan.”

Her nan looked very elegant in her light-grey tailored trousers, which she was wearing with a crisp white blouse and a long string of pearls. “I can’t believe that you’re in your seventies, Nan; you’d give women ten years younger a run for their money.”

“Ten? I do hope you mean twenty years younger, my lovey... And you’re sure that Tommy’s parents said it was okay to bring Rascal along? You know what he’s like; he doesn’t like being left alone, especially in the evening.”

“Tommy’s dad loves animals, and he said that Rascal’s more than welcome.”

“In that case, what do you think of this?” Nessa bent down and scooped Rascal off the floor and tied on the black bowtie that she had bought for tonight around his neck. “Can’t have him letting the side down, can we? There you go my gorgeous little babby. He looks the bee’s knees doesn’t he?”

Nessa put Rascal on the floor by her feet. He wagged his tail happily at her praise. His fur was sticking up, and the contrast of this with the posh bowtie he was wearing really did make him look very cute.

“Tommy sounds like a lovely lad, and so do his parents. It’s just this Jonathan that we have to keep our eye on, is it?” Nessa gathered her purse and Rascal’s lead.

“Honestly, Nan, he makes my skin crawl. He’s so nasty and sarcastic and it’s almost as if he goes out of his way to be horrible to me. Wait till you meet him and then you’ll see what I mean.” Sophia shook her head. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jonathan was going to be there tonight, she would have been very excited about the evening. But she could imagine him sitting opposite her and rolling his eyes, mocking her every time she spoke.

Hearing the taxi beep its horn, Nessa switched off the lights. “Well, don’t you be worrying about him tonight. One nasty word out of his gob about you and I’ll wipe the floor with him and smile with glee while I do it. In fact, I can’t wait to meet him.”

***

Bernie had been cooking all day. She had made one of her mum’s famous family recipes, homemade ham-hock and creamy leek pie. Her mum hadn’t left her much when she passed away, but the small handwritten recipe book had been one of the gems of her possessions that Bernie cherished.

Chopping the last of the vegetables, she glanced at the clock and realised that they would be here any minute and she hadn’t even got changed yet. Pleased that she had made the prawn and crab cakes and a seafood bisque for starters early that morning, along with a lemon tart for dessert, and thus had no more preparation to do, Bernie put the last of the carrots into a pan of water before wiping her hands on a tea towel and rushing off upstairs to make herself look half-decent.

Passing her husband on the stairs, Bernie said, “You’re not wearing that, are you, Stanley?”

Glancing down at his blue V-neck jumper and brown cords, Stanley shrugged. He had thought he looked smart. “Well, it’s clean and we’re only eating in...”

Seeing his wife frowning, he added: “But you’re right, I’m not wearing it. I’ll change, shall I?”

It was quicker and easier to go along with Bernie’s wishes. Changing his jumper would take just minutes whereas her giving him earache could go on all bloody night.

“Good,” Bernie said, satisfied with her husband’s reply as she followed him back up the stairs. As she passed the boys’ bedroom, Bernie was surprised to see that her sons were washed and dressed. “They are going to be here any minute. Tommy, can you listen out for the door and Jonathan, can you go down and turn the oven off?”

Bernie was looking forward to meeting Sophia’s gran. It was a shame that her parents couldn’t make it but from what Tommy had told her Nessa O’Hagan was a real character, and Bernie also loved an excuse to throw a dinner party.

If Tommy did have his sights on Sophia, then it was right that they invite the girl over. Bernie was sure that she was a lovely girl, especially after what she had done for Tommy, but these days you never knew. Some children were dragged up, not brought up, and Bernie wanted to make sure that her son was mixing with the right kind of people.

Putting on a black shimmery dress, she saw Stanley standing behind her in the mirror.

“You’ve not finished dressing. You're not wearing a bowtie.” Bernie scowled as Stanley walked out of the en-suite wearing smart black trousers and a shirt.

Stanley sighed. He had had no intention of wearing one. “I didn’t realise that we were going to be so formal tonight, Bernie. I hope that they don’t think we’re snobs.”

“Snobs: us? Don’t be silly, Stanley. We’re making an effort, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“Mum,” Tommy called up the stairs. “They’re here.”

Smoothing down her dress then giving herself one last admiring glance in the mirror, Bernie made her way downstairs.

“It’s lovely to meet you at last.” Bernie beamed at her guests, before ushering them into the dining room and indicating chairs for them to sit on. She had been looking forward to tonight ever since the other day when Sophia had popped over to see Tommy.

“Ah, and you must be our honorary guest, Rascal?” Bernie noted the little dog’s bowtie approvingly. She was glad that she had made Stanley wear his now: she couldn’t have him upstaged by a dog. “Wait until Stanley sees this little fellow. He loves dogs.”

“I can feel my ears burning,” Stanley said, as he entered the room. He kissed both Sophia and Nessa on the cheek.

Rascal, instantly taking a liking to the man, started wagging his tail excitedly as he tried to jump out of Nessa’s arms.

“Oh look at us,” Stanley laughed as he took the eager dog from Nessa. “We’re matching.” Sitting down next to Tommy at the table, Sophia smiled as Tommy stood up and awkwardly shook Nessa’s hand.

“Lovely to meet you, Mrs O’Hagan,” Tommy said.

“Ah you must be Tommy.” Nessa beamed at the polite boy, noting that his brother didn’t acknowledge her.

“Alright, Red?” Jonathan leered from across the table to where his brother and Sophia sat. “This is all very cosy, isn’t it? Shame your mum and dad couldn’t make it. What did you say was wrong with your dad again?”

Tommy had filled him in on why Sophia had lied about her dad being ill: apparently it was because she was ashamed of him being such an old drunk. Jonathan hoped he was making the girl squirm as she’d now have to re-tell her lie to everyone, and in front of her gran.

“It is a shame, isn’t it?” Nessa quickly chipped in. “But hopefully in time he’ll be well again. We can only hope.”

Nessa put on a BAFTA-worthy act of sadness. Sophia had been right about Jonathan being a jumped up little shit; the second he walked into the room she had felt the air go cold. What the boy hadn’t banked on was the fact that Sophia had told her about the lie. Jamesie was a complete disgrace, and there was no way the girl would have wanted to introduce him to Tommy’s family, so Nessa could see exactly why she had lied. Looking at Jonathan, she could see what Sophia meant when she said the boy made her skin crawl; Nessa felt the same.

Smiling smugly at Jonathan, Sophia felt Tommy squeeze her hand under the table. She could tell that Jonathan was in one of his irritating moods but, with both her nan and Tommy here tonight, she should just about be able to tolerate him.

“Stanley, my love,” Bernie said, “I’m going to check on the food, can you get our guests some drinks?”

Stanley tried to hide his smirk as his wife put on her usual public show of perfection.

“What can I get you, Nessa?” Stanley asked as he put Rascal onto the floor, leaving him to have a sniff of his new surroundings. “Gin; vodka; wine?”

“Oh, go on then, I’ll have a glass of wine, but you better only make it a small one, goes right to my head that stuff does.” The family seemed lovely, Nessa thought. Bernie was a bit stuffy, but she seemed like a very nice lady all the same. And Tommy was a credit to them both. Sophia certainly seemed smitten.

“Oh, I don’t bloody believe it,” Bernie shouted in the kitchen as she opened the oven door only to have black smoke pour out, filling the room. The pie was cremated, dried out with a black crust.

“Excuse me for just a moment, Nessa, then I’ll be back with your drinks,” Stanley said awkwardly, as the smoke alarm started beeping.

“I’m going to bloody kill Jonathan,” Bernie cried, as Stanley rushed into the kitchen. “Look, Stanley, it’s burnt to a bloody crisp. I bet he did it on purpose.”

Bernie flapped the tea towel around exaggeratedly as she panicked, wafting the smoke around the kitchen.

“No, not Saint Jonathan; he wouldn’t do such a thing, surely?” Stanley opened the kitchen window to let some fresh air in. “You must have turned the oven up too high yourself, Bernie, when you were in here earlier flapping around like a crazed woman.”

Bernie searched the fridge and cupboards for something she could cook instead of the charcoaled monstrosity on the worktop. “I had it on a hundred and sixty. That’s what the recipe says, and that’s what I had the oven set to. I told Jonathan to turn it off earlier and now look: it’s on the highest setting.”

“Is everything alright, Mum? Do you want a hand with the drinks, Dad?” Jonathan wandered into the kitchen. He was sick of watching his brother and Sophia making eyes at each other, like they were auditioning for the parts of Romeo and Juliet. And as for Sophia’s nan, what a weirdo: she kept staring at him. “Mum, what the hell have you done to the dinner? We can’t eat that. We’ll break our teeth.”

Stanley opened the larder door. Pretending to look for a dinner substitute, he stifled a laugh. It was obvious Jonathan had ruined the dinner on purpose. And for the first time ever, Stanley was revelling in it. Bernie was so obsessed with being the perfect host: the fact that tonight was quickly turning into a complete disaster was quite amusing.

Bernie gritted her teeth. “Jonathan, I told you to turn the oven off.”

Jonathan shrugged. “Oh, I thought you said turn it up. Sorry.”

Bernie could see Jonathan was anything but. “Oh, just go and sit down, will you.”

For once, Jonathan did as he was told. He could tell that his mother was furious with him.

“What am I going to do, Stanley? We haven’t got anything in. I used everything up to make the pie,” she said as her husband closed the larder door and stared at her blankly.

“We’ve got the starters and the pudding, all we need’s a main. I’m sure there’s something we can rustle up,” Stanley said; realising that his wife was close to tears, he felt guilty that he had found the fact that Jonathan had deliberately burned the dinner so funny. “I’ll tell you what: get Nessa a glass of wine: make it a large one, then she won’t notice the food. You have one too. Go on, sit down and leave this to me.”

***

“Well, I have to say, I’ve never had a fancy seafood starter followed by beans on toast before, but that was lovely,” Nessa said, as she placed her cutlery on her empty plate and took another mouthful of her second glass of wine. She didn’t normally drink, and was starting to feel tipsy.

“Cheesy beans on toast is the best,” Stanley said. “It’s not gourmet unless you delicately sprinkle cheese over the top and follow with a dash of salt and a dusting of pepper, don’t you know.”

Stanley remembered the look of horror on Bernie’s face when he had bought out the plates of baked beans on toast.

“Shall me and Tommy take Rascal out, Nan? I think he may need a wee,” Sophia interrupted as she watched Rascal jump up and down at the kitchen door, hoping that she and Tommy could then be alone for a few minutes.

“Oh, Tommy, can’t you use the toilet like everyone else?” Stanley winked at Tommy.

“You’re drunk.” Tommy laughed at his dad’s feeble attempt of a joke.

“Of course you can, my lovey,” Nessa said, “as long as that’s okay with Bernie and Stanley. He might leave one of his little presents out there, I’m afraid. Rascal by name, Rascal by nature...”

“Oh, Stanley won’t mind if he does, will you, Stan?” Bernie slurred her words; she was on her third glass of wine due to the evening being such a disaster. Her annoyance was compounded by the fact that Jonathan had sat there all evening grinning like the Cheshire cat.

And Stanley’s contribution to the chaos... bloody beans on toast. A dull and common meal to match the company, Bernie thought, wishing she hadn’t bothered to get out her finest china. Nessa seemed nice enough, but she was hardly worth rolling the red carpet out for. Bernie had needed to drink to get through the painful evening.

“You can be on poop-scoop patrol tomorrow morning, can’t you Stanley? He doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty,” Bernie said, then hiccupped loudly.

“I’ll come outside too,” Jonathan said quickly. His parents bored the arse off him at the best of times, and after a few drinks they were worse than normal. “I’ve got a tennis ball upstairs; bet Rascal would love a game of catch.”

Sophia couldn’t hide her disappointment.

***

“Okay, I’ve got another one for you,” Nessa said, as Stanley poured her another glass of wine. “What’s the difference between an Irish wedding and an Irish wake?”

“I don’t know,” said Stanley.

“One less drunk.” Nessa roared with laughter.

Seeing Bernie’s shocked expression only made Nessa and Stanley laugh even more.

“Well, apparently it’s okay for the rest of the world to take the piss out of us Irish, so we may as well join in. One thing they can never say is us Irish haven’t got a humour,” Nessa said.

“You certainly have,” Bernie said; the sound of Nessa’s laugh grated on her nerves.

Seeing the disapproving look on Bernie’s face, Nessa added: “Bernie, as my dear old mammy used to say, it doesn’t matter how high up you sit on your throne, at the end of the day you’re still just sitting on your arse. There were no airs and graces in our house. A spade was a spade, and we could laugh at ourselves along with the best of them.”