Authors: Marita Conlon-McKenna
By the end of the night Kerrie’s nerves had been frayed. Her dad was drunk and so was Matt’s! Her mam had kept whispering to her that Matt was a pet, but she wasn’t sure about his hoity-toity parents! Kerrie thanked Heaven she hadn’t seated them together, as Maureen had spent the evening being absolutely frosty towards her parents and treating them like they were beneath her in social standing. She had gone on and on about some stupid local hunt ball, too.
‘I’d shoot anyone I saw on a horse who went after a poor fox,’ Kerrie’s mother had declared firmly, her cheeks blazing with temper. ‘It’s just pure cruel … barbaric.’
Dermot Hennessy had looked disgruntled, and Matt tried to appease his father as he paid the bill.
Kerrie and Matt had planned to bring their parents for a post-dinner drink but instead watched with relief as both couples got into taxis and went their separate ways, declaring they were feeling tired and wanted to get home. Matt’s parents were staying the night in his married sister Georgina’s house in Rathgar.
Exhausted, she and Matt had headed to O’Donoghue’s for a well-deserved nightcap.
‘Poor Georgina!’ declared Matt.
It had been a disaster of a night, and had made Kerrie realize the difficulties they faced organizing a wedding!
Matt’s life had been so cosseted: growing up on the Hennessys’ rambling old country estate in Meath, surrounded by all the good things in life. Following college he had had a brilliant career mapped out for him in corporate finance at PWC, one of the country’s top accountancy firms.
Kerrie’s upbringing was totally different. She’d grown up on an estate, too, but hers was no country one! Kerrie O’Neill had grown up in Tallaght, on one of Dublin city’s largest sprawling working-class estates. One of six kids, her childhood had been a happy one, but her mam and dad had constantly struggled financially as they did their best to raise and educate them. Like her brothers and sisters, Kerrie had fought for everything she had.
At twelve years old, thrown into the busy local community school, she had buckled down and worked harder than the other hundred and fifty kids in her year, determined to secure a vital place at college which would harness her superior maths and analytical skills.
In UCD she had found it hard to find her feet, and with no schoolmates to hang around with, she felt out of her depth socially and found her first year lonely. She had contemplated dropping out, but refused to let where she came from disadvantage her. In the second year she had done the J1 to the USA with a big crowd from her class. She’d had the best summer of her life in Montauk, where she was just one of a gang of Irish students working summer jobs. Waitressing in a fancy beach club in the Hamptons with some of the other girls in her year, and hanging out with them swimming and drinking and sailing, Kerrie had finally learned to fit in with everyone.
When she returned home Kerrie had realized that she still had much to learn, and using the same diligence that got her through Riverfield Community School she had changed herself, chameleon-like, to adapt to the new world she was now becoming part of. Her parents were proud of her academic success, but puzzled by her transformation. Kerrie was bright and intelligent, but that was no guarantee of success where she came from! So, armed with an honours degree and a Master’s in finance Kerrie had begun to build her career. She now held a senior position in Barrington Holdings, one of the city’s main asset-management companies.
She had met Matt on a skiing trip to Meribel with some of the girls she had kept in touch with from college, and immediately found herself attracted to the tall guy with the easy laugh and fun sense of humour who was already a senior manager in a big accountancy firm down on the river. Their lives and backgrounds were so utterly different, but when they were together on their own that did not seem to matter. They had fallen madly in love, and ten months later had moved in together into an ultra-modern 1400-square-foot apartment overlooking Grand Canal Dock.
Little Kerrie O’Neill had transformed herself from a skinny, mouthy kid with ambitions to a well-educated, qualified, polished professional with an amazing boyfriend and a perfect life stretching ahead of her! She couldn’t risk losing it. Losing Matt.
So she had drawn a veil over her background and where she came from, letting Matt assume that she was just another of those nice middle-class girls from a good home and good family and good school that he normally hung out with.
She had deliberately kept her family at a distance, deflecting Matt’s interest in visiting her home by saying her parents would much prefer to come and have dinner in their new apartment, and ensuring that when Matt did get to meet them it was always on her terms: like treating them to tickets to see Paul McCartney playing at the Royal Dublin Society.
‘I never thought I’d live to see this day,’ her dad had said, blinking away his tears when Paul McCartney sang ‘Blackbird’.
‘I never knew your dad was such a music fan,’ Matt had laughed when they got home.
‘He was in a band! I told you … that’s how he met my mam. I think she was a kind of groupie and used to turn up wherever they played. Dad played the guitar and the fiddle and sang a bit.’
‘Does he still play?’
‘Yeah! At the drop of a hat he’ll give you a bit of Elvis, the Beatles, the Stones, Led Zeppelin, Bowie or Bob Dylan,’ she had said proudly.
‘My folks are big into classical music and opera,’ Matt had confided. ‘They like the Wexford Opera Festival. They’re not really into other kinds of music.’
Was it any wonder that she was doing her very best to keep both sets of families apart? The thought of the two families getting together for their wedding was a major stress, which was why Kerrie was determined that it should be a small, simple affair. She had suggested going off on their own to somewhere exclusive like the Seychelles or the Maldives and having a beach wedding, but Matt would hear none of it!
‘Hey, if you don’t want to have a big family wedding in some castle or hotel at home that’s OK, Kerrie, but the least we can do if we go away is have our parents and a few of our family and close friends present!’ he reasoned. ‘We can well afford it! After all, our wedding day is going to be the most important day of our lives. We want them to be there and part of it.’
Kerrie had trawled the internet and spent hours researching and planning for their wedding, eventually persuading Matt to opt for the South of France. They both loved the area and were busy trying to organize a small wedding next September in the harbour town of Villefranche. They’d have the ceremony in the pretty church overlooking the sea and then a meal for the wedding party in one of the expensive restaurants beside the water. It would be classy and exclusive and stylish, with hopefully as few members of each family present as possible, if she had her way. They were paying for the wedding themselves, and she wasn’t going to let what parents or family and friends thought dictate what they should or shouldn’t do.
Kerrie took the opportunity to look around the large kitchen as Matt disappeared into what she presumed was some kind of larder or pantry. There was a huge Aga, a massive kitchen table, and ten chairs – including two rather decrepit-looking armchairs positioned at the window, which were covered in newspapers and dog hair.
The kitchen units looked hand-painted and expensive, and when she pulled out a drawer it slid out smoothly revealing an expensive array of dinner and side plates. The kitchen also had a massive American fridge and some pretty fancy electrics.
‘I found some Madeira cake,’ said Matt. ‘And a few scones.’
They were enjoying the scones when Maureen Hennessy appeared in the back door.
‘I was up at the golf club … I didn’t think you would get here for another hour at least,’ she said, hugging Matt and flicking her eyes over Kerrie.
‘The traffic was lighter than I expected,’ Matt explained.
‘Well, it’s lovely to have you home, Matt. We don’t see half enough of you.’ Maureen helped herself to a mug of coffee. ‘And of course, Kerrie, dear, you’re very welcome at Moyle House.’
‘Where’s Dad?’
‘He had some meeting with Gerard and Alan Mullen, some kind of urgent business he had to attend to. He said he won’t be too late home.’
‘Your house is lovely,’ Kerrie offered. ‘The garden’s huge.’
‘It’s a lot of work. We’ve almost twenty acres,’ explained Maureen. ‘There’s a tennis court and a paddock and stables where we used to keep ponies for the children when they were younger, and of course a vegetable garden, too. It leads right down to the river.’
‘I’ll show you it tomorrow when it is light,’ promised Matt.
‘Maybe you might take Kerrie out riding tomorrow, if the weather’s nice.’
Kerrie blushed. She had no idea how to ride! The only time she had ever been up on a horse or a donkey was either on the beach or at some kind of fair when there were cheap pony rides for kids. Her family could never have afforded the luxury of riding lessons or a pony.
‘I’m not much of a rider,’ she offered. ‘And besides, I didn’t bring any clothes for it!’
‘There are some jodhpurs and jackets, and a few pairs of spare boots, in Georgina’s old room if you need them,’ offered Maureen, her blue eyes steely. She seemed to be reading Kerrie’s mind. ‘I’ve made up the bed there, and also naturally in Matt’s room, as I wasn’t too sure what the sleeping arrangements might be.’
Matt’s face reddened as if he was about seven years old.
‘Mum, we’re living together and getting married in a few months’ time.’
‘Well, you young people can suit yourselves!’ Maureen said briskly. ‘I must make a start on the dinner. I’m doing a nice fish pie and your favourite dessert: bread and butter pudding.’
‘Great,’ Matt grinned, giving her a hug.
‘Why don’t you show Kerrie the rest of the house and bring her things upstairs?’
Kerrie admired the large drawing room with its views of the garden, and the dining room with its red-painted walls and dark heavy furniture, and the garden room’s chintz couches and wicker chairs and coffee tables strewn with gardening books and country living magazines. A small spaniel was asleep on one of the cushions. This house was a world apart from the small three-bedroomed semi-detached house where she had grown up.
As they climbed the staircase and Matt pointed out various paintings and family photographs she tried not to be overwhelmed. His bedroom was huge, and was neat and tidy, but
the bed looked pretty ancient – with a heavy looking wool blanket folded over the end. There was a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a desk and a chair. The curtains were a navy and cream stripe with a coordinating bedcover.
‘This room can get a bit cold,’ he warned.
‘Well, you can warm me up, then!’ she teased.
An hour later they surfaced.
‘You look like a naughty schoolboy!’ she joked.
‘I feel like one,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘Let’s hope mum was down in the kitchen and didn’t hear what was going on.’
‘I can smell our dinner cooking …’
Kerrie slipped into the next-door bathroom with its tiled floor and walls, trying not to shiver as she turned on the shower. It seemed to stop and start and spurt in the most unpredictable fashion, and the temperature of the water went between scalding hot and icy. It was a nightmare, she thought, as she wrapped herself in a towel and headed back to the room. She changed into a fitted red wool dress and black tights and pumps, going easy on the make-up but using her Mac eyeliner to accentuate her blue eyes.
‘God, you look gorgeous!’ said Matt, nuzzling up to her in his boxers.
‘I am not braving that shower again,’ she warned, dabbing her wrist and neck with a little Coco Mademoiselle. ‘Anyway, I’m going downstairs to see if your mum needs a hand with anything, and you’d better get dressed quick and come down and join us.’
‘Mum won’t eat you! Her bark is far worse than her bite,’ he proffered.
‘You’re her darling son … I’m the bad bold girlfriend
who’s taking you away and who you’re going to marry,’ she explained. ‘There’s no getting over that!’
When she asked Maureen Hennessy if there was anything she could do to help in the kitchen, the older woman reassured her that everything was done and would be ready shortly.
‘But if you want to help, maybe you can feed the dogs.’
Jet was sitting under the table salivating, and the spaniel and a small terrier were jumping around the kitchen.
Kerrie had not been a fan of canines ever since she’d been bitten when she was six years old by next door’s Jack Russell.
‘There are some tins on the shelf in the scullery, and a tin opener, and they like a bit of that cereal stuff mixed in with it all. You’ll see their bowls. Only give Lady – the terrier – a small portion, as she’s having a bit of tummy trouble. Bobby, the spaniel, can have more than her. And no extras!’ Maureen warned.
Kerrie felt queasy as she saw the three dog bowls. The smell when she opened the tin was vile and made her stomach turn. God knows what was in it. Bracing herself, she began to spoon it out. Jet nearly knocked her over as he went for his huge bowl, gulping his feed down in a few minutes. The other two smaller dogs were at least a bit slower. The spaniel wagged his tail madly as she lowered his bowl to the ground. Lady begged her for more with a pleading look in her eyes. She was kind of cute and danced around Kerrie’s feet and in-between her legs, letting Kerrie pat her on the head and behind her ears.
‘Here you go,’ Kerrie whispered as she put an extra two spoonfuls into Lady’s silver bowl, shooing the still hungry Jet
and Bobby away. Satisfied with a job well done, she gave them all some fresh water.
‘Thanks,’ said Maureen, red-faced from checking the oven. ‘Dermot will be here in a minute so I’m just going upstairs to freshen up.’
Kerrie sat in the kitchen, wishing that she could just relax, and not feel so overwhelmed about being in Matt’s home. You have to get used to it, she told herself over and over. The Hennessys are going to be part of your life. You have to make the effort to get to know them better and to try to fit into their lifestyle.