Despite the Angels - By Madeline A Stringer Page 0,128

Howth, who’s very firm and organised, so you learnt to be good, but Mum got Gran Clonskeagh, who’s a softie, so she learnt to cry for what she wanted. Blame the Grannies!”

“I don’t think you need to do psychology in college, love, you have it sorted already.” David leant back and looked at her and her sister. Maybe she was right and it was that simple.

“That would save all the fees if I didn’t. But don’t worry, Dad, like we said, whichever one of us goes to college will get a part-time job, so you don’t have to worry about expenses. I could maybe do a bit more baby-sitting, it’s good, you can get a bit of study done.”

“I know of some children called Aisling and Robbie whose Mum would love to meet you,” Shelta, Clare’s guide, mused. “Do you think they’d be too far away?”

Jotin smiled. “I hadn’t really been thinking. I’ve almost given up, really. But maybe we should work on it. Put out a query for connections, see can we work out an introduction somehow.”

“And we won’t go on any holidays. So I think it will be fine. Me and Clare will help with the house, and the cooking.”

“Yes,” said Clare, all business, “let’s make a shopping list.” She got up to fetch a pen and the scratch pad.

“Oh no, oh no!” David put his hands to his head in mock horror. “The first action of the new regime is to plan more spending. Help!” Clare laughed and flung her arms round him.

“I love you, Dad. You’re the best!”

Chapter 46

Autumn 1991

Lucy herded the two children up the stairs despite their protests that it was too early for bed. She wanted them settled before Martin took over, or they could be up all evening. Martin was due back at seven, to let her go out to the practice meeting. This one would include a demonstration of some new equipment, so she wanted to be there in plenty of time, to be relaxed and able to concentrate.

“Can we have a bath? Mummy, please?” Aisling, at four, was at her most winsome, smiling coyly.

“Baff. Baff. Bubbles!” said Robbie.

“No, no time tonight. You’ll just have to be dirty tonight. Come on and we’ll do a lick and promise, then your teeth.”

“I Want Baff. I Need Baff,” shouted Robbie, struggling to get out of his clothes.

“Sorry, no bath. Just strawberry toothpaste.” Lucy wiped Robbie’s face and set about the struggle to brush teeth in two firmly shut little mouths.

At five to seven Lucy escaped from the bedtime ritual and started her own very hurried preparations.

At ten past seven David walked into the lounge of the Grafton Hotel. He would just have a glass of water to settle him before the others arrived. This was an important dinner, to celebrate the deal done earlier today with their Italian suppliers, but it didn’t explain the nervousness he was feeling. He should feel relaxed, he had been the one to negotiate the discount for bulk, the one who had been praised by all sides, by the Irish for getting the discount, by the Italians for placing such a large order. Because he had thought of going round the country to nursing homes, checking on whether they needed more equipment. One sterilizer to nearly every home made up a big order, no need to persuade those suave hospital managers. He felt pleased. More relaxed at home than he could remember ever before, now that Kathleen had gone and the litany of requests for holidays had been turned off. It’s like a holiday all the time now, at home. And this order will go most of the way to paying at least one of the girls’ fees for this year, assuming we don’t go away on a big holiday. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Never again, if he didn’t want to. No more demands that he go to a beach, or on a train, or on yet another coach excursion. He remembered steeling himself to cope with yet another beach, to avoid the coach trips. Stay here, chill out. So why do I feel so jumpy?

“Because you’re meeting Lucy tonight. It’s all perfect. She’s cross enough with Martin to look at you and you know you’re ready to forget Kathleen. And here you are in a comfy lounge, looking good, and she’ll be done up too, so apart from admiring the flowers, I hope Trynor has remembered the flowers, all you need to