“Karen? Nellie Quinn, here,” said a prim voice at the other end.
She cursed silently. “Nellie – how are you?” Karen greeted pleasantly, trying her utmost to remain civil. “Shane’s not back from work yet …”
“It’s you I wanted to speak to actually.Shane told me at the weekend that you’ve set a date, and I might add that it’s about time. But he says the ceremony will betaking place in some kind of – of civic office in Kilkenny. Is that right?”
“Quite right.” She had expected that Shane’s wholly traditional mother would disapprove of a registry-office wedding, but by her tone, you’d swear that the venue was a lap-dancing club or brothel, even.
“Karen, far be it from me to interfere, but why can’t you have a normal church wedding, like everyone else? I don’t know if you were reared as a child of the Lord, but Shane certainly was and – ”
“Really,” she interjected flatly, “and when was the last time Shane was inside a church?”
“But you could ask that of any Irish couple these days,” his mother retorted. “Doesn’t stop them getting married in the Lord’s house. Where else can you get such beautiful surroundings and backdrop? The photographs will be terrible.”
“Nellie, with all due respect, Shane and I aren’t getting married so that we can look pretty in our wedding photographs.” Karen’s voice was steely. “I’m not a hypocrite.” She and Shane might indeed have been raised Catholic, but they weren’t practising churchgoers.
“Well, I simply won’t have it.” Nellie cried, her earlier calm deserting her. “I donotlike being stopped on the street by people wondering why my youngest can’t get married under God’s roof. Presumably, they think he’s done something shameful like marrying a divorcee. Will you please tell Shane to phone me immediately when he gets home?”
“Fine,” Karen answered and promptly hung up on her mother-in-law-to-be.
Great. Another stumbling block. She rolled her eyes.Something shameful…
She just hoped that the ‘oul bag would leave them alone to get on with their plans now, without belittling and complaining about every last detail. She and Shane had just come through a difficult patch, and now was certainly not the time for his mother to be throwing a spanner in the works.
Especially when Karen already knew that Nellie Quinn could be terribly persuasive in trying to get her own way.
43
Jenny spent pretty much all morning in front of the mirror, trying to decide upon an outfit. She hadnoidea what to wear.
She wanted to look stylish but at the same time not too vampish. She didn’t want to wear anything too trendy because it would surely highlight that she was a good ten years younger than Mike’s ex and she didn’t want to come across as immature. Honestly, she had never felt this self-conscious in her life – had never agonised over an outfit choice to this extent.
Normally, she knew instinctively what to wear – tailored trouser suits to the office, funky casuals for a night out in the pub, elegant party wear for special occasions. Then there was the problem of what to do with her hair. She had let it grow much longer lately and it now reached well below shoulder length.
If she wore her hair down, Rebecca’s first impression of her might be the stereotypical bimbo hoping to nabherself a rich divorcee. If she wore it up, she might look too severe or too try-hard depending on her choice of outfit.
Which brought Jenny right back to square one.
But that evening, when Mike picked her up in the taxi, she was feeling a lot more confident.
Having sought Tessa’s advice, she wore a sleeveless cashmere turtleneck and black leather biker jacket over flared jeans and metallic block-heel platforms. Her friend had been adamant that she should step out in nothing less than a three-inch heel.
“It’ll give you confidence,” she had insisted over the phone. “There’s nothing better than the clicking of high heels on the ground to make you feel great about what you’re wearing. Can’t go wrong with black – and there’s no harm in showing a bit of flesh, either.”
Mike had seemed happy enough with her anyway, she thought, recalling his appreciative wolf-whistle when she got into the taxi.
Problem was, that wasn’t even half the battle.
When the taxi pulled up outside the hotel and Mike walked in front of her through the sliding doors, Jenny took a deep breath.
Inside she looked to her left towards the lounge and saw a smiling, slightly plump woman wave at them – Rebecca? But no, Mike continued straight past her towards a flame-haired bombshell sitting at the bar.
“Hey, you look fabulous,” he stepped forward and hugged his ex, kissing her lightly on both cheeks.
“And you must be Jenny,” Rebecca greeted in a huskyvoice, her wide green eyes smiling in synch with her mouth. “It’s lovely to meet you finally.”
“Where’s Graham?” Mike asked, looking around.
“Never far,” said a lilting Welsh voice from behind them. He walked up and slapped Mike hard on the back. “How are things, man?”
