Kerrie O’Neill tried to disguise the nervousness she felt in the pit of her stomach at going to stay with her fiancé Matt’s parents for the weekend. Ever since they had got engaged Matt had been on at her to come up to Moyle House, his family home, for a relaxed break, while she felt utter trepidation about having to spend so much time under the nose of his mother and father.
She’d only met the Hennessys briefly a few times, but from the minute she’d met them she had realized that Matt and his family lived a life of privilege and wealth, one that was totally different from her more humble background. She looked at the perfect diamond ring on her finger. Matt loved her! It shouldn’t make a difference where she came from, or what her parents’ social status was, but she knew deep in her heart that it did.
As they turned off the busy Athlone Road and headed towards Moyle House she didn’t really know what to expect. Matt had gone to private boarding school when he was twelve and talked far more about that than he ever did about home. His sister and brother had all left home as soon as they were able, and only seemed to return home sporadically. She guessed the Hennessys weren’t as close as her family.
After they’d passed a few shops and a local pub and driven out the road a bit she spotted the name ‘Moyle House’ engraved on the tall granite pillars of a gateway. Matt turned up a long rhododendron-lined drive, passing under a canopy of tall chestnut and beech trees.
‘We’re here,’ he said quietly, as they pulled up in front of a very large but rather ugly grey Georgian house with sash windows overlooking a well-kept lawn and a fish pond.
Kerrie took a breath. The house was huge, a lot bigger than she had expected. It was like a stately home, or something you’d see in a period drama on TV. Imagine what it must have been like for Matt growing up in such a place! She took stock for a second, expecting Maureen Hennessy to appear, relieved when there was no sign of her.
‘Come on, let’s go in and I’ll get you a cup of coffee,’ offered Matt, as he opened the front door and a large black dog bounded out to meet them.
‘Down, Jet!’ he said firmly.
The house had patterned tiles in the hall and a wide curving stairway. Light flooded in from the tall landing window, illuminating a grandfather clock and a large coat-stand.
‘Mum!’ Matt called, peering into the drawing room and the dining room before heading down a few steps towards the breakfast room and kitchen. ‘Looks like we have the place to ourselves.’ He smiled as he filled the kettle and put it on to boil. ‘I’ll see if there are any biscuits or cake around.’
It was only eighteen months since Kerrie had first met Matt and they had fallen madly for each other! It had been a whirlwind romance, and they had moved in together the previous year. Matt had totally surprised her with his romantic proposal in July. They’d gone to Stockholm for her boss Sven Johnnson’s fiftieth birthday celebrations, and stayed on afterwards, renting a blue-painted summer house on one of the islands for a week. They were out sailing when Matt had asked her to marry him.
‘Matt, of course I’ll marry you!’ she’d cried, overwhelmed, as Matt had kissed her and produced a chilled bottle of champagne and a picnic to celebrate their engagement. She had wanted to stay on that little sailboat out on the water for ever! She still couldn’t believe that she was engaged and going to marry Matt, the guy of her dreams.
When they’d got home Matt had organized dinner in Shanahan’s Restaurant on St Stephen’s Green to celebrate, and for both sets of parents to meet. It was awkward as the Hennessys were wealthy and used to money and position and country living, while Kerrie’s mam and dad had struggled to raise them all on her dad’s sorting office salary. Matt’s mother Maureen had quizzed her nosily about her background and family. Kerrie had become a master at fudging exactly where she came from! Matt didn’t need to know the full extent of the differences, and Kerrie had done her best to ensure that.
She had been far too busy trying to keep an eye on how many pints her dad was downing and giving her mam a blow-by-blow account of the romantic proposal to pay too much attention to the shenanigans of Dermot and Maureen Hennessy. Matt’s parents were the very opposite of hers. His dad was used to getting his way, while Maureen Hennessy was one of the biggest snobs you could ever meet. Dermot Hennessy had begun by demanding some expensive French wine that tasted awful to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of his eldest son, while Maureen had complained that her fillet steak was a bit too rare, even though that was what she had ordered.
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.
Dermot, Matt’s dad, came in the back door a few minutes later and as he gave her a welcome hug she got the whiff of whiskey off him.
‘Maureen phoned me to say dinner was ready,’ he said, as he hung up his tweed jacket.
‘She’s gone upstairs,’ Kerrie explained. ‘She’ll be down in a minute.’
‘Did the woman not offer you a drink?’
‘Oh, it’s OK, I’ll wait and have something when we’re eating.’
‘You’re a guest in our home. You’ll have a drink now,’ he insisted. ‘What will it be?’
‘A gin and tonic, if you have it, would be nice before dinner.’
‘Gin and tonic it is!’ he said, opening one of the kitchen cabinets to reveal a huge selection of alcohol. He poured her a large, almost double, measure and rifled the fridge for the chilled tonic water. ‘Ice?’
‘Yes, please.’
They found some lemons and she added a slice to it. Matt arrived down to the kitchen as she felt the reviving shot of alcohol relax her.
‘Hey, I’ll have one of those, too, Dad.’
They were on their second G & Ts by the time Maureen appeared. She checked the oven and announced that the dinner was ready.
‘Where are we eating?’ asked Dermot.
‘Let’s just eat here!’ suggested Matt.
‘I’ve already set the table in the dining room.’
‘I’ll set here instead,’ said Matt. ‘It’ll be more relaxing when it’s just the four of us.’
‘Very well,’ said Maureen, ‘but do it quickly.’
Kerrie was relieved that at least dinner wouldn’t be too formal, and helped to put the butter dish and some glasses and napkins on the kitchen table.
‘That was wonderful, Maureen.’ Kerrie had to give Matt’s mother her due. She had probably just eaten the best fish pie she had ever tasted in her life. Perfect fish – salmon, cod, some prawns – in a rich creamy sauce with a topping of warm buttery mash and a selection of garden vegetables. She laughed, watching Matt and his dad bickering over who would finish off the rest of the dish.
‘Leave some room for pudding, you two!’ Maureen warned. ‘It will be ready in another fifteen minutes or so. And while we’re waiting, Dermot and I want to hear all the news on your wedding plans, and find out exactly how many people we are let to invite to the celebrations.’
Kerrie cast a warning glance at Matt, who was too busy practically licking his plate to react. ‘Maureen, we’re having quite a small wedding,’ she reminded her. ‘That’s why we’re going to the South of France.’
‘France? Are you still set on that?’
‘That is where we want to get married,’ Kerrie said calmly. ‘Matt and I don’t want a huge fuss and palaver, just close family and a few friends. We’ve talked about it.’
‘Your sister had a wonderful wedding in Ashford Castle. Surely something like that would be more suitable for you and Kerrie?’
‘That was Georgina’s wedding, Mum – we want something different.’
‘But Matt, think of all your cousins and relations … they aren’t going to see you get married! And then there’re some of our dearest friends … we’ve been to all their children’s weddings. What are Dermot and I to say to them about this hole-and-corner-style wedding?’
‘Mum, we are getting married in a very exclusive place. The South of France. It’s absolutely beautiful there, and there is a lot to be said to not having miserable Uncle Clem and awful Aunt Irene, or a load of cousins that I barely see from one end of the year to the other at my wedding. Kerrie and I don’t want the big hotel and the big wedding like everyone else!’
‘We want our wedding to be special,’ insisted Kerrie. ‘It’s our wedding.’
‘What about your parents?’
Kerrie blushed. She knew her mam and dad had been gutted when she had told them about the small wedding in France. They couldn’t understand why she wasn’t going to have a big traditional wedding like her sister Martina and her brother Mike had had.
‘They’re totally OK about it,’ she fibbed. ‘I think they are both actually looking forward to having something a bit quieter and smaller without all the fuss they had for my sister and my brothers’ weddings.’
‘It’s the young people’s prerogative to have the type of wedding they want, Maureen. I’m sure Matt and Kerrie are well able to decide what they need,’ said Dermot, as he got up to fetch another bottle of wine for the table. ‘And that’s the end of it.’
Maureen threw a despairing glance at her husband.
‘Now, where’s that pudding you promised us?’
Dermot gave Kerrie a wink, and she felt like hugging him. She hoped that there’d be no more discussion about their wedding for the weekend.
‘That pudding is amazing.’ Kerrie was not really a dessert person, but the bread and butter pudding layered with sultanas and brown sugar was absolutely yummy.
‘It’s been Matt’s favourite ever since he was a little boy. The others would want a big chocolate cake for their birthday, and all Matt would want was “my pudding”.’
‘It’s still my favourite.’ Matt laughed.
‘What kind of puddings do you make?’ Maureen asked inquisitively.
‘I’m not much of a pudding person, to be honest,’ Kerrie admitted, flustered, thinking of the desserts her local delicatessen, Polly’s Pantry, offered or the Marks & Spencer range. ‘It’s more just a cake or a tart when we have friends in, with some ice cream or something.’
‘No bread and butter pudding?’
‘No, sorry … I guess I’ll have to start making it for you, Matt.’
‘Maureen’s a great cook,’ beamed Dermot. ‘Trained in London, you know!’
‘I did a cordon bleu course there when I was about twenty. My mother sent my older sister Jane and me over to do a cookery course there for six months.’
Shit! Matt’s mother would have to be a cordon bleu cook. Now Kerrie felt even more inadequate. ‘That must have been fun,’ she said.
‘It was a lot of hard work, but I have to admit it has stood me in good stead!’
Kerrie stared at her plate. Why had Matt never mentioned to her that his mother was a trained cook? The only food he ever talked about was the awful swill he was served at boarding school. He’d told her that ever since, he hadn’t been able even to look at a boiled egg, let alone eat one!
‘Let’s take our coffee and cheese in the drawing room,’ Maureen suggested. ‘The fire is lit and it will be nice and cosy just to sit and chat there.’
It was warm in the drawing room, and Kerrie curled herself up on the couch beside Matt. The fire was flickering, casting shadows on the polished mahogany and sparkling glass of the sideboard. She felt kind of relaxed and drowsy after all the wine. Matt and his dad were talking about having a game of golf in the morning.
‘There’s the MacRory Cup Dinner on in the golf club tomorrow, if you fancy it?’ suggested Dermot. ‘The Mullens and the Finlays are going, and I’m sure most of the neighbours. Are you and Kerrie interested in coming along? Your mother and I have a table booked already.’
‘Sounds fun!’ Matt laughed. ‘Thanks, Dad. It’ll be nice to meet up with some of the old gang and introduce them to my beautiful fiancée. Count us in.’
Kerrie had hoped that maybe Matt and she could slope off on their own to one or two of the nice local pubs and grab a bit of food there.
‘And I’ve organized for everyone to come here for Sunday lunch,’ added Maureen. ‘Georgina and Charley say they’ll come down from Dublin, too.’
Kerrie tried to hide her dismay at such a big Hennessy gathering over the weekend, with no time at all for Matt and herself to be alone!
‘What about a glass of port to go with that lovely Gubbeen cheese?’ urged Dermot, as he poured Kerrie a glass of the ruby red port.
The dogs were sitting at the fire. Jet, the Labrador, was panting spreadeagled on the mat. Bobby moved over to Dermot’s feet, while Lady ambled over to Kerrie and jumped up on the couch beside her, resting her head on Kerrie’s lap. Absentmindedly, Kerrie petted the little terrier’s ears, trying to stifle her fear of dogs and pretend that it was OK to have one panting and breathing kind of funny on top of your dress.
The port was lovely, giving her a warm glow all over, and she was so relaxed that she almost managed to forget the terrier was there until it began to make a strange kind of choking noise. Ugh, what was wrong with it? Suddenly Lady began to gag, and regurgitated a pile of steaming hot brown disgusting dog vomit that somehow resembled what Kerrie had fed it earlier. Looking at the smelly pile of yuck deposited on her red dress, it was as much as she could do not to hurl herself in front of the Hennessys!
‘Matt, open the French doors and let Lady out immediately!’ ordered Maureen. The little dog leapt off Kerrie’s lap and beat a hasty retreat towards the open door.
‘I’m sorry, Kerrie! But the poor dog must have eaten too much earlier on,’ murmured Maureen. ‘You didn’t by any chance give her any extra dog food when you were feeding her?’
‘No, of course not,’ Kerrie fibbed, her cheeks blazing.
Matt disappeared to the kitchen and reappeared with a cloth and a bucket, and began to help clean the offending mess of vomit off her good dress. Yuk, the dress was destroyed. She would never be able to wear it again without feeling nauseous.
Finally able to stand up, she escaped upstairs and stripped off, throwing the ruined dress into a plastic bag. She was so upset she felt like climbing into bed and pulling the duvet over her and staying there. What a disaster of a night!
She didn’t belong here, didn’t fit in … this whole family set-up was totally out of her league! The Hennessys knew that, and so did she … Matt was the only one who seemed blind to it. Why did that dog have to go and ruin everything?
She couldn’t … no, wouldn’t, let a dog destroy her future, she thought as she ran into the bathroom and washed herself. She covered herself in perfume before pulling her long black knitted John Rocha top over her black leggings and touching up her lip gloss.
‘You OK, Kerrie?’ asked Matt, concerned, when she eventually reappeared.
‘I’m fine,’ she lied, sitting down on the couch beside him, relieved to see there was no sign of the dogs as she cuddled into him.
The fire was blazing and his parents were talking softly.
‘Kerrie, dear, is there anything I can get you?’ offered Dermot, standing up.
‘I’d love another drop of that lovely port please, Dermot.’ She smiled, pulling her long legs up under her.