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looking at you that could set her heart galloping in an instant and she certainly wasn’t one given to romantic notions. She’d nursed too many men in her time and emptied too many of their shitty bed pans to be overcome by the sight of a man’s body.
    She’d been in a relationship that had brought her to her lowest ebb, thanks to a man’s pure selfishness and her own lack of judgement. Noreen certainly didn’t see men as gods to be worshipped on pedestals. But Oliver had something, a complete lack of awareness of himself that had attracted her from the beginning. That she had landed a handsome, successful man like Oliver Flynn had given her younger, married sisters the shock of their lives. Smug bitches, she thought sourly. She had no time for Rita and Maura.
    Noreen glanced down at them sitting with their fat, florid little husbands at a table in the centre of the room, and felt an uncharacteristic surge of superiority. She’d certainly got a better man than Rita and Maura had got with Jimmy or Andy. The thought of either of them pawing you was enough to give you the shivers, she thought smugly, thinking of how delightful it was to stroke her hands up and down the lean planes of Oliver’s strong body and weave her fingers in the dark tangle of hair on his chest. He had a good firm mouth too, she liked kissing him. Jimmy had loose, slobbery wet lips. Even if she was to stay on the shelf for ever, she’d never have married a blob like Jimmy. And yet Rita had been ecstatic when they’d got engaged and treated her husband like a god! Whatever she saw in him. It was always ‘Jimmy said this’ or ‘Jimmy said that’ or ‘Jimmy says’. When she spoke of him in the third person Noreen always felt she spoke in capitals. ‘HE’ likes to have a couple of drinks and a game of golf on Sunday. HE hates playing with women. Shouldn’t be allowed on the course, HE says. Rita would give one of her silly ah-you’d-have-to-laugh-at-him titters that drove Noreen around the bend. ‘HE doesn’t eat lamb, would you order a well-done steak for HIM,’ Rita had requested when Noreen had told her the menu for the wedding breakfast.
    She’d felt like giving HIM a good kick up the ass. It was fat enough too, she thought mentally picturing a pair of flabby, pasty white buttocks. Oliver had a great ass, taut and firm and not at all pale and pasty but a sallow, olive hue, the same as the rest of his body. She loved watching him walk around naked, although she had to eye him surreptitiously. If Oliver thought she was ogling his body he’d be mortified. He never believed her when she told him he was magnificent. ‘And I know … I’m a nurse, I’ve seen hundreds, ’ she’d add for good measure.
    â€˜Stop talking nonsense, woman,’ he’d say, but she felt he liked it when she said it. He wasn’t good at taking compliments, but then with a mother like Cora Flynn was that anything to be surprised at? Cora couldn’t say anything positive or nice in case it would choke her. It was no wonder Oliver had no self-esteem. If she ever had children she would praise them to the skies and make sure they were full of confidence about themselves, Noreen promised herself. She was looking forward to having a family of her own and she’d rear them a hell of a lot better than Rita’s pair. Brats, that’s what her two nephews were, and already their mother was speaking about them in capitals. THOMAS and JEFFREY needed a good clip in the ear, as far as Noreen was concerned. She was glad that she had put her foot down and told Rita they could not come to the wedding. Rita had got into a fine snit, but tough. Those pair weren’t going to ruin HER wedding.
    Noreen gave a little smile. Today she was perfectly entitled to think of herself in capitals. Today was the best day of her life and tonight was going to be extra special.