Mollified Maureen O’Mara turned her attention to her youngest child pulling her down into a busty embrace.
‘Mam let me go. I can’t breathe,’ Moira’s muffled voice wafted up from the depths of her cleavage. ‘Jaysus,’ she muttered once released, ‘you just about knocked me out. I can see the headline, ‘Dublin girl rendered unconscious in a seaside village by mammy’s overuse of Arpege.’ You’ll have Ireland’s bee population trying to pollinate you smelling like that.’
Maureen ignored Moira’s diatribe as her eyes raked over her, narrowing as they settled on her face. ‘You’ve a look of Princess Fiona about you—the Ogress version. On the lash last night, were we?’ She didn’t wait for a reply. ‘Just the other day I was reading an article in the paper about the young people of our country’s disturbing drinking habits. To think my own daughter plays a part in those drunken statistics.’ She shook her head. Aisling wasn’t sure if it was done in dismay over her daughter’s drinking habits or whether she just wanted to swish her hair around again.
‘You’re a fine one to talk Mammy. I can remember you singing Danny Boy at the top of your lungs when you’d knocked back a few sherries with Kate Finnegan.’
‘Don’t be cheeky, twas only the once. Come on now we’ve a reservation at Aqua, it’s only been opened a year. I’ve not been before but I’ve heard good things about it from my golfing ladies.’
The sisters’ linked arms with their mammy and to Aisling’s relief bypassed The Bloody Stream as they turned toward Dublin Bay instead. The water was calm and blue despite the wind that whipped around them as they stepped out onto the pier. Aisling filled her lungs with the tangy air. The fresh sea breeze would sort Moira out too. She watched the fishing boats jiggling against one another on their pier side moorings. On the other side of the walkway smart sailing boats were showcased in the marina. Determined anglers were fishing off the side of the pier and families were strolling its length. The lighthouse loomed at the end of the jetty guarding the entrance to Howth Harbour. It was a symbolic welcome and farewell to weary traveller’s Aisling always thought somewhat romantically.
Aqua was housed inside the former Howth Sailing Club building. ‘You should feel right at home in here Mammy, what with you looking the part and all,’ Moira said holding the door open for her.
Maureen wasn’t sure whether Moira was being sarcastic or not so she shot her a fierce look to be on the safe side. They were ushered to a table near the expansive windows and she announced loudly for the benefit of the other diners that they had a prime table. ‘Just look at that sea view would you girls.’
As Moira and Aisling skimmed over the menu she filled them in on her latest news. Derbhilla her golfing partner was having her knees done on Thursday. She was going to be out of action for a month or so. Maureen had been making up meals to pop in her friend’s freezer for her to have when she got home from the hospital. ‘Her husband’s as useless as a chocolate teapot,’ she confided moving swiftly onto her frenemy Agnes. She was a fellow widow who was making noises about stepping into Derbhilla’s shoes while she was out of action. ‘She’s got far too much to say for herself in my opinion and I’m on the fence about her scoring abilities. I’ve a sneaking suspicion she doctors her results to better her handicap.’
Things could get ugly on the Deer Park Ladies golf course, Aisling smiled to herself deciding on pan fried fillet of fish. She’d be strong and bypass a starter, but she thought perusing the desserts to share the sticky toffee pudding with Mammy for afters. It was both their favourite.
By the time the waiter came to take their order they’d also received a blow-by-blow account of Rosemary Farrell’s, a member of mammy’s rambling group recent hip operation. Who knew the metal orthopaedic implant could set the airport detectors off? Apparently, Rosemary had learned this the hard way—holding all and sundry up at Dublin Airport as she tried to pass through security. She’d been patted down three times by the overly enthusiastic security guard, although Maureen said it was probably the most excitement Rosemary had had in years!
Moira not surprisingly ordered the fish and chips with pea puree. A good dose of stodge to soak up her sins.
‘Sure the puree, will match your face,’ Mammy muttered before announcing that she’d like the steak. ‘And shall we get a bottle of wine girls?’
Moira groaned.
‘That’d be nice Mammy,’ Aisling said. It wasn’t as though she’d be driving anywhere, and she hadn’t overdone it last night, far from it. She’d taken herself off to bed, all cried out with a mug of sweet tea hoping it would send her off to the land of nod. Not that she’d needed any help sleeping she’d been exhausted. As the waiter scurried off with their orders and the promise of a chilled bottle of house white upon his return. Aisling decided now would be as good a time as any to tell her mammy and sister that Marcus was back in town.
Chapter 18
Moira choked on the glass of water she’d just taken a sip on as Mammy thrust a napkin at her. ‘You’ve dribble on your chin Moira, wipe it up.’
‘Did you just say Marcus’s back in town?’ She turned her attention to Aisling.
Aisling nodded, the shock had worn off in the ensuing hours that had passed since she’d seen him. But she could see how it had taken them by surprise. She filled them in on how she’d spotted him making a beeline for O’Mara’s and how she’d successfully avoided him.
‘Good woman,’ Mammy said when Aisling told her how Bronagh had embellished her social life by telling him she wouldn’t be home later either. Thus getting her off the hook yesterday at least. ‘I need this,’ she said as the waiter returned and set about pouring the wine.
Moira having decided the news that had just been imparted warranted a hair of the dog, held her glass up to be filled too.
‘He’s a chancer, that one.’ Mammy shook her head doing the hair swishy thing once more.
‘It’s a good thing I wasn’t there when he called,’ Moira rasped. ‘I’d have eaten the head off him, so I would.’
‘I’m going to have to see him.’ Aisling owned up to the letters he’d been sending her. ‘If I’d replied he might have stayed away.’
‘I don’t think it would have made any difference Ash. He’s a spoiled only child, who’s far too used to getting his own way. Just tell him to feck right off next time he shows up.’
Aisling couldn’t help but think Moira’s take on Marcus was a touch ironic given her own uncanny ability of getting what she wanted, when she wanted it. Still that was their own faults for running around after her the way they had when she was a tot. Marcus perhaps was used to things going his way, but that didn’t make him a bad person.
‘Aisling, what is running through that head of yours?’ Mammy’s eyes narrowed. ‘You get the same expression on your face whenever Mrs Flaherty makes noises about seeing that auld fox off. You’re a soft touch. Always have been.’
Aisling took a big gulp of her wine. She needed fortification if she was going to be honest about what was on her mind. ‘Mammy, I need to see him. I don’t expect either of you to understand but it might give me the closure I need.’
Moira muttered under her breath and Aisling was sure she caught the words feck and sake in there.
Mammy was more vocal. ‘You’re not guest starring on Oprah,’ she shouted. ‘We don’t use words like journey and closure in our family. They are banned, bad words do you hear me? We say things like on your bike you weasel and, and—’
‘Feck off, fecker with the little pecker.’ She waggled her little finger for effect.
Aisling shot Moira a look. ‘Not helpful and not true, as it happens.’
‘Well, what do you expect?’ Moira said.
‘But what if he is genuinely sorry? I mean he wouldn’t be the first man to get cold feet before his wedding now, would he? What if he wants to put things right between us? He might want to apologise to my face Mammy. I’d like to hear him say he was sorry.’ Her words sounded cringe worthy to her own ears.
Several diners’ heads spun in their direction at Moira and Mammy’s eruption. ‘That gob shite flicked you off with a note Aisling. A note! He didn’t even have the decency to call the wedding off to your face. We were there to pick up the pieces not him. He does not deserve a second chance of any kind!’
Aisling’s face flamed. ‘Would you two lower the volume, the whole of Aqua does not need to know I was dumped, thank you very much.’
Their waiter arriving with her pan-fried fish balanced on one hand and Moira’s fish and chips in the other, was a welcome distraction. Aisling wasn’t sure if she was imagining it or not, but he seemed to be extra solicitous toward her. He fluffed about shaking out her napkin and draping it on her lap before asking if she’d like an extra serving of tartare sauce on the house, or a top up of her wine, perhaps?
She knew she wasn’t imagining it when he patted her shoulder and said, ‘The same thing happened to my sister one week before she was due to walk down the aisle. She’s moved on now, married a fella from up the road in Malahide. He’s a face on him like a bag of spuds but plenty of dosh.’ He pointed out the window, ‘That’s his yacht there the big shiny one. So you see, life does go on. You’ll be alright love.’
Oh for god’s sake! Aisling was puce. So the moral of his story was she could look forward to marrying someone ugly with pots of money, and a yacht bloody great!
Mammy jumped in, ‘And tell me now— she cast around for his name.
‘Boyd.’ He offered up.
‘Boyd. What would your sister have done if that eejit ex of hers had made noises about patching things up?’
He looked around to make sure no guests were within earshot and leaned in toward the party of three. ‘She’d have told him he was a ball bag and sent him packing. With said bollocks between his knees.’
‘There you go, Aisling. That’s what you’re to do.’ Mammy and Moira were united in victory.
Then like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, Mammy’s face cleared. She turned toward Boyd, giving him the benefit of her smile set at full wattage as she asked him would there be any chance of an introduction to his sister and her husband. ‘Only I’m after sailing lessons and was looking to meet some like-minded boaties.’
͠
It was later sitting on the DART home, bellies full and with that warm glow of having partaken of a tipple at lunch time that Aisling thought to ask her sister how her night had been. They were both in better spirits on the return journey thanks to Aisling facing forward and Moira’s hangover having disappeared over the course of lunch. She’d texted her friend Andrea to see if she still wanted to catch up after checking with Aisling whether she wanted her to come home with her in case Marcus was there.
Aisling knew Moira was desperate to look for a dress to wear to the snooty engagement party she’d been invited to. Besides, Moira bopping Marcus on the nose if she came face-to-face with him wouldn’t do any good. She had to be the grown up he’d failed to be and talk to him face-to-face. It was inevitable he’d show up at some point and she refused to skulk around like she had yesterday while she waited for him to reappear.
She told Moira this and knowing the shops would still be open by the time their train rolled back into the city, her sister arranged to jump off at Connolly Station. Andrea would meet her there and they could hunt for their outfits before going for an early dinner seeing where the evening led them. It was Saturday night after all, she looked meaningfully at Aisling when she said this.
Aisling ignored the look. How Moira could think about food after the lunch they’d just put away was beyond her. Come to think of it, how she could think about hitting the town again after the state she’d been in this morning was incomprehensible. Oh to be young and have stamina she thought before moving on. Her curiosity piqued as to whether Moira had had any success in batting her eyelashes in Liam Shaughnessy, the Asset Management, bigwig’s direction.
‘What did you get up to last night then?’ she asked. ‘Did you try your luck with yer man?’
‘Liam?’ She pulled a face. ‘No, he fancies the pants off himself, so he does and besides he copped off with Mary from litigation. There’s no accounting for taste.’
‘That’s an about turn. Yesterday you were all googly eyed over him.’
Moira’s look was withering. ‘Ah well now that’s because I’ve seen the light. Good luck to Mary I say. She’s batting above her weight there, but I’ve got my eye on a more mature man. A silver fox no less.’
‘Jaysus, Moira you’re not after getting yourself a sugar daddy are you?’ Aisling mentally flicked through the images of the managing partners she’d seen on the company’s website. The only lawyer who stood out amongst the montage was the fella she’d thought looked like he should be wearing a tall green hat. ‘Please tell me it’s not yer man I said looked like a leprechaun?’
‘No, and Mr Sweeney looks like Mr Wonka not a leprechaun, you’re confused. We had that discussion.’
‘Well who then?’ She’d expected an angry or at the very least quick off the mark rebuttal as to her suggestion of a sugar daddy. Moira however smiled enigmatically, reminding Aisling of the Mona Lisa.
She knew she wouldn’t glean anything further from her, her sister was enjoying being mysterious too much. So she turned her attention to the rows of pocket-sized gardens once more. She hoped the owners of the sheets billowing on the breeze, brought them in before that dark cloud she could see lurking ominously on the horizon blew over top of their garden. A shiver passed through her and she hoped that cloud wasn’t an omen.
Chapter 19
Una Brennan sat on the bench with her cardigan wrapped tightly around her. The sun might be out, but the breeze had a bite. There was a cloud in the distance too, it was dark and heavy. She didn’t like the look of it and hoped it didn’t decide to blow over in her direction. Despite the unusual clemency of the day she was cold, chilled to the bone from sitting in the same spot as she had done each day since arriving in Dublin.
The park was gated and the bench where she was seated was overhung by a tree from which the odd orange leaf floated down to land at her feet. Small children were shrieking as they clambered up the slide or bounced on the see-saw. Beyond the gates and across the road was a row of red brick houses, not dissimilar to the one in which she’d grown up. In the middle of that row was the house that belonged to Aideen.
What was it like inside? She wondered recalling how Aideen always kept her side of their bedroom neat as a pin. Whereas she’d driven her sister potty with her habit of leaving things wherever they happened to fall. She leaned forward watching as a car pulled up outside the house, performing a parallel park. It was skilfully done. She’d never mastered the art herself, and many a time had driven straight on ending up miles from where she wanted to be.
A tall chap with a shock of sandy, reddish hair and a middle that was just starting to soften got out of the car. Una gasped. He looked exactly like their da when he was in his middling years. He had to be one of Aideen’s lads there was no doubt. He opened the back door bending down to re-emerge with a small child in his arm. The wee kiddie had overalls on and his tousled hair, the same colour as his father’s, gave away the fact he’d fallen asleep in the back of the car.
Una felt a physical pang, a yearning to call out to them. She wanted them to know her. They’d recognise her certainly but what would she say? She wished she could push rewind, go back and do things differently this time around.
Behind her a swing creaked and she remembered how she’d loved the swings as a girl. ‘Higher, higher!’ She’d order Aideen who’d obligingly push her. She’d kick her legs out imagining she could see over the stacks of chimney pots to the seaside beyond. If she swung hard enough her magic swing would take her to the pebbly shore and she’d dip her toes in the icy water, playing catch me if you can with the waves. Una closed her eyes, remembering.
Chapter 20
1942
‘That boy in Mrs Greene’
s front garden is staring at us again Una,’ Aideen whispered. Her lowered voice full of excitement at this unusual turn of events. ‘I wonder why he’s not in school.’ She paused once they were out of his earshot to bend down and pull her ankle sock up. It kept rolling down and disappearing inside her Mary Jane in the most annoying manner. ‘I wish my shoe would stop trying to eat my sock,’ she said straightening and jiggling her satchel, so the strap would stop digging into her shoulder. It was heavy with the weight of the books she carried.
The Brennan twins were on their way home from school. Mrs Greene lived six doors down from their house in the row of red-brick terrace houses where the sisters had lived their entire lives to date. All the houses had bay windows and front doors with shiny brass knockers. It was a matter of pride Una knew to make sure your door knocker gleamed. She’d been sent out to polish theirs often enough! To say the boy was standing in the front garden was a stretch of the imagination too. He was leaning on the railings in front of the square patch of grass to the left of the path leading to Mrs Greene’s blue door. It had been green until a month ago.
Una risked a glance back over her shoulder. He was still watching them, and she quickly looked away. ‘I meant to tell you, but you fell asleep before I could and then I forgot. I heard Mammy telling Daddy last night, he’s Mrs Greene’s nephew. His mammy’s not well so he’s come to stay with her. He looks lonely if you ask me. I’d hate to be sent away if our mam was sick. Imagine if we had to go and stay with Aunt Finola?’ The thought of their thin-faced spinster aunt who was a firm believer if you spared the rod you spoiled the child, made both girls grimace.
A thought occurred to Una. ‘Perhaps they don’t have twins where he comes from. Maybe that’s why he’s staring at us. We’re a novelty.’ She felt very grownup using a big word like novelty. She’d seen it in a book and had asked Daddy to explain what it meant, storing it away to use at the appropriate time—like now.
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