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Two for Joy
By Patricia Scanlan St. Martin's Press
Copyright © 2003 Patricia Scanlan
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4668-5406-2
CHAPTER 1
'Don't you dare do it before I do, Heather Williams,' Lorna Morgan warned her cousin imperiously. 'Besides, you don't know him well enough, yet.'
'Relax, Lorna, do you think I'm mad? I don't want to get preggers.' Heather took a sip of her white wine spritzer.
'Yeah, well, is he really the one you want to lose it to? You could do much better, you know.' Lorna arched her eyebrows dismissively.
'Neil's very nice once you get to know him,' Heather said defensively. She scowled. She hated it when her cousin slagged off her new boyfriend.
'Heather,' Lorna shook her head sagely, 'you always settle for second best. What is he? A mechanic working in his daddy's shack of a garage, in this poky, one-street town in the sticks. He's going nowhere fast.'
'Don't talk like that, Lorna Morgan! Kilronan isn't the sticks and Neil's going to take over his father's garage. He's got plans. He's going to expand, start selling cars as well as fixing them,' Heather retorted hotly.
'Big wow!' Lorna was not impressed.
'Well, we can't all date doctors' sons,' Heather snapped back sarcastically. 'Derek Kennedy no doubt is going to be a consultant.'
'Actually I'm thinking of ending it. He bores me.' Lorna sighed, a frown creasing her smooth forehead.
'For God's sake, who are you looking for? Einstein? Would you give the bloke a chance.' Heather nibbled on a handful of peanuts. She shouldn't be eating them. She'd put on two pounds last week, but she had terrible PMT and she craved salt.
'Why won't you move into a flat with me in Dublin? Then we could have a ball. We could socialize in Temple Bar, go night-clubbing, eat in fancy restaurants,' Lorna urged eagerly. 'You know it's a great place, the pubs and clubs are mega. We'd meet real men, Heather, not the clodhoppers we have to put up with in this place.'
Her cousin pouted sulkily as she took her hand mirror out of her bag and studied her reflection in it.
'Come on, Kilronan isn't that bad. And there's plenty of men here,' Heather argued. 'Look at all the tourists we meet. You might meet a millionaire on one of the cruisers out on the lake one of these days.'
'Oh for God's sake, stop talking nonsense. It's the back of beyonds and I'm sick of it. I'm not going to stay mouldering here for the rest of my life,' Lorna exclaimed tetchily.
'Well I like Kilronan. I like working in Mangan's —'
'Don't you want something more out of life? You'll be nineteen soon. I mean how old is that? Don't you want to go to clubs and drink champagne and be wined and dined in swanky restaurants? You're such a stick-in-the-mud, Heather. Sometimes you drive me mad!' Lorna glared at her cousin. 'At least bossy old Ruth has some get up and go.'
'Don't be such a wagon, and don't talk about my twin like that to me.' Heather flushed. 'I'm going home. I've had enough of this crap for one night. See you at Oliver Flynn's wedding reception tomorrow night.' She drained her glass, picked up her bag and stalked out of Nolan's pub in high dudgeon. Just who did Lorna Morgan think she was? She was so superior. Let her go to Dublin and find Mister Wonderful and go clubbing and drink champagne if she wanted to, Heather was happy just where she was. She'd visited Ruth in Dublin often enough in the past year since her twin sister had moved to the city and she'd enjoyed herself, but she was always glad to get back to Kilronan. Heather frowned. Maybe she was dull and boring, she thought glumly. Lorna could always make her feel so inadequate. Lots of her friends had left home as soon as they were able to. Ruth certainly hadn't wasted any time, much to their parents' dismay.
She sighed as she pulled her scarf tighter around her neck and pulled up her hood. Grey damp swirls of mist rolled in off the lake. Heather shivered at the unseasonably cold weather. Two days ago they'd been enjoying an Indian summer. She was hungry. She and Lorna had planned to go for a pizza after their drink but that was knocked on the head now. She'd told her mother not to keep dinner for her, so she'd have to get a chippie. She hurried along North Road, past the hardware shop and the estate agent's and the small side road that led to the marina, and stepped into the welcoming warmth of Fred's Fast Food Emporium.
'Snack box and a portion of garlic mushrooms, please.' She gave her order to the girl behind the counter and went to sit at a table by the window. She wouldn't be seeing Neil tonight, he was in Dublin doing a business start-up course so it was OK to eat garlic mushrooms without worrying about having to kiss him, reeking of garlic. There were only a few people ahead of her. She'd missed the worst of the Friday evening rush.
The mist had turned into heavy rain that battered against the big plate-glass windows that faced on to the street. She saw Lorna's red Honda Civic scorch past and scowled. It hurt being called a stick-in-the-mud. OK, so she didn't have her cousin's glitz and glamour, but she was sociable and outgoing and she enjoyed life in her bustling, lakeside home town. She was a member of the drama society, the basketball team, the tennis club, as of course was Lorna, but Lorna considered it all far too parochial, instead of enjoying it all.
Lorna could always make her feel inferior and had done so since they'd been children. Ruth was always telling her to tell Lorna to go take a hike but somehow Heather could never bring herself to. Ruth and Lorna didn't get on. Ruth had no time for her prima-donna cousin and Lorna was jealous of the sisters' strong friendship. Thinking of some of the sizzling rows the pair had had over the years, Heather smiled in spite of herself.
'She's just a stuck-up, spoilt little cow with notions, she always has to be the main course. Well, one day she'll find that she's just the leftovers,' Ruth fumed after a spat at a disco one night when Lorna had flirted with a fella that Ruth had her eye on. Ruth had been furious at her cousin's flighty behaviour as she watched the pair snog during a slow set, but Lorna didn't give a hoot and had ignored her cousin's frosty glower. Ruth had called her a tarty slut the next day and they hadn't spoken for weeks. Ruth was great at holding a grudge and keeping a fight going, but Heather always caved in after a day or two. She had no staying power when it came to rows. She hated falling out with people. If only she could be a bit more like her sister and her cousin, she reflected despondently.
Ruth had started out as a typist in a small but busy architectural firm in Dublin. After two months she'd been promoted when the boss's secretary had been headhunted by a rival firm. She'd proved her worth and when the company had taken on an extra partner, she'd been given the grand title of office administrator, plus a rise in salary. Ruth was efficient and ambitious, far more so than Heather, who had always been the quieter of the two. She shared a house with three other girls, near Phibsboro. Lorna envied her enormously, although she'd never let on to Ruth.
Heather and Lorna had stayed over several times at weekends when Ruth had a free house. And it was because of these precious weekends that Lorna made a half-hearted effort now and again to stay on good terms with her cousin. Lorna was always in her element, drinking and bopping to her heart's content, revelling in the capital's frantic, fast-paced lifestyle.
It had been after a meal in the Bad Ass Café and a night's dancing and drinking in Bad Bob's that Ruth and Lorna had finally had a parting of the ways. They had been sitting in the back of a taxi on the way home when Lorna had felt the urge to puke.
'Don't you dare barf or we'll be turfed out of the taxi and we'll never get another one at this hour of the night,' Ruth hissed furiously when Lorna slurred that she felt a bit queasy. Ruth was a bit pissed herself, but not that pissed. Typical of Lorna, couldn't hold her drink. Heather was always nursemaiding her and holding her head over toilets when they went out. If it were Ruth Lorna was depending on, her cousin would end up drowned in a toilet bowl, Ruth often assured her twin.
Lorna valiantly held on until the taxi driver rounded a corner at a fast lick and she could contain her nausea no longer. Quietly and discreetly she puked into her cousin's handbag, which just happened to be lying on the seat between them. Ruth was giggling at a joke Heather had made about the driver's obvious desire to race in a grand prix and was distracted momentarily.
Because the house keys were in her coat pocket, she hadn't needed to rummage for them in her bag and hadn't made the putrid discovery until around noon the following day when she reached into her bag to find her lipstick before going out to buy provisions for a fry-up. 'You skanky, dirty wagon, I'll murder you. I'll break your scabby, scrawny little neck,' she shrieked as she raced into the room Heather and Lorna were sharing. She hauled her drowsy cousin out of the bed and shook her. 'Get dressed, you, and get the hell out of here. I've had enough of you, Lorna Morgan. If you can't look after yourself when we go out you're not coming with us any more and that's it. And you're not staying here again. Go and stay with someone else when you come down to Dublin. That was a gross stunt to pull. Why didn't you puke in your own bag, you silly bitch?'
'It's a Lulu Guinness. It cost me a fortune!' Lorna bleated, horrified at both the unexpected assault and the notion that she should ruin a designer label handbag. Even in her hungover state, she knew her priorities.
'I don't care if it's encrusted with diamonds, you shouldn't have puked into mine – but it's the last time you'll pull an act like that on me, I can promise you that,' Ruth raged as she thrust a handful of clothes at her cousin. 'There's a bus for Kilronan at one thirty, leaving from the quays. Be on it.'
'Oh, get over it, it will be a pleasure, you grumpy old hoor! Come on, Heather,' Lorna snapped dismissively.
'Excuse me, Heather is staying here. You're the one who's leaving,' Ruth retorted icily.
Heather groaned silently. Why was she always dragged into it? She hated being the pig-in-the-middle when the other pair were fighting.
'Let Heather decide for herself, she doesn't have to do everything you tell her,' Lorna challenged.
Both of them turned to look expectantly at her. Heather's heart sank. This was definitely a no-win situation. One or other of them was going to be miffed with her, whatever she decided. It wasn't fair. The row had nothing to do with her.
'Leave me alone, I want to die,' she mumbled under the bedclothes. If she pretended her hangover was worse than it was, they might have mercy on her.
'There! She's staying,' Ruth declared triumphantly.
'She didn't say that,' Lorna shot back. 'Are you coming or staying?' she demanded of Heather, determined to make her cousin choose one way or the other.
'I couldn't face a bus journey right now, Lorna, gimme a break.' Heather groaned and buried her head under the duvet.
'Thanks very much. Some friend you are.' Lorna grabbed her clothes and stalked into the bathroom.
'Ignore her,' Ruth advised.
'There's a pair of you in it, sometimes —'
'For God's sake, she puked in my handbag. How low can you get? Go home with her if you want to, see if I care,' Ruth retorted huffily.
'I don't want to,' Heather appeased. It was bad enough having Lorna in a huff, Ruth in a huff was the pits.
'I'll cook us a fry-up when she's gone,' her twin said over her shoulder as she left the bedroom to deal with the messy business of her handbag.
Lorna ignored Heather when she came back into the room to collect her shoes and precious Lulu Guinness handbag. Heather snuggled further under the duvet trying to regain her previous pleasantly drowsy state. But it was ruined. Lorna was in a huff with her and she resented it bitterly.
'Lorna, I —'
'Don't bother,' Lorna snapped. 'I know where I'm not wanted. I'm just a convenience in your life. Your twin' – she spat the word – 'is the only one who counts where you're concerned. Just don't come running to me the next time you're stuck for someone to go out with.'
She slammed the door behind her, leaving Heather fuming. How dare Lorna imply she had no one else to go out with. She had plenty of friends in Kilronan.
Lorna hadn't spoken to Heather for a fortnight until she wanted her to go to a pub quiz with her and breezed into the accountant's office where Heather worked as though nothing had happened. Arctic conditions still existed between her and Ruth and they had not socialized together since the handbag episode. Ruth wasn't a bit put out. She had her own life to lead and Lorna, happily, wasn't part of it.
Heather came back to the present as the girl behind the counter called over to her to ask if she wanted salt and vinegar on her chips. One of these days, she too would put Lorna in her place and not be a wimp about it, she promised herself as the delightful sizzle of frying batter and the wafting smells of garlic and vinegar made her mouth water.
Monday she was going to start. New diet. New fitness regime. New assertive attitude to life. And Lorna Morgan could take a running jump!
CHAPTER 2
Lorna Morgan was thoroughly pissed off as she drove along North Road. There was no sign of her wishy-washy cousin. She'd hoped to overtake her trudging home in the rain and drive past with her head in the air. She gave a sigh that came from her toes. Heather was so staid and boring sometimes. She had no sense of adventure. Lorna had! She just knew that there had to be more to life than working as a receptionist in the Lake View Hotel and living at home with her parents and two younger brothers, Eoin and Aidan, who were the bane of her life. She was a month short of her nineteenth birthday, Heather was practically the same age, life was there for the taking and they were wasting precious time stuck here in the back end of nowhere. If only her cousin would come with her to live in Dublin. Everything would change. She just knew it.
She could go on her own, she supposed, but it would be very lonely. She didn't know anyone in Dublin apart from her obnoxious cousin Ruth, and she most certainly didn't count. Lorna wrinkled her pert little nose. She hadn't spoken to Ruth since she'd thrown her out of the flat and not even for a temporary place to stay in the city would she lower herself to ever speak to that ignorant cow again, she vowed, as she overtook a tractor at speed.
If she went to Dublin on her own where would she live, though? Good accommodation was hard to come by. She didn't want to live in a poky little bedsit in Rathmines. Certainly not. Or not even in a boring semi, like the one Ruth rented with her friends. Lorna had visions of herself in a smart apartment in town, or in the new, refurbished docklands. She was an avid reader of the property pages in the papers and spent many happy hours imagining herself entertaining new trendy friends in her own upmarket pad.
But first she'd have to get a job. There was a shortage of hotel staff in all the large cities according to the tourist board, so finding a position shouldn't pose a problem. Better get the job first before worrying about accommodation. Lorna sighed again. She'd had this conversation with herself a hundred times. If she didn't go and do something about it soon, she'd be so over the hill no one would want to give her a job. It was time to be proactive, she decided.
She liked the word 'proactive'. It had impressed her when she'd heard the manager use it at a staff meeting. It was a sophisticated sort of a word. Lorna was all for sophistication.
Yes, she thought, she would get the names of all the prestigious hotels in Dublin and send them her CV and references. Surely one of them would want a receptionist of her experience? The Lake View had a hundred bedrooms and a leisure centre, after all, and that wasn't to be sneezed at. She'd been working in the hotel every summer since she was fourteen and had got the job as trainee receptionist when she'd finished her Leaving Cert. As far as she was concerned she was now a fully fledged receptionist and she certainly wasn't going to mention 'trainee' in her CV.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Two for Joy by Patricia Scanlan. Copyright © 2003 Patricia Scanlan. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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