O'Mara's

by Michelle Vernal

  It was her first kiss and the butterflies it had set off in her tummy were still beating their wings madly. He’d walked her to her door and they’d coyly let go of one another’s hand before saying goodbye. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and her waves that she’d spent so long taming would now be corkscrews once more. Una had reached up and wiped away the droplet of water beginning to slide down his temple. Their eyes had locked briefly in a silent exchange that this was how it would be between them from now on before she’d ducked inside.

  She’d called out a hello before charging up the stairs two at a time. She would catch a chill if she stayed in her wet things any longer and Mam would go mad if she saw the state of her. Most of all though she wanted to relive that kiss in the privacy of her bedroom.

  Leo was her and Aideen’s second best friend in the world, first place was reserved for each other. When his poor mammy died not long after he’d come to stay at his aunt’s, his dad, unable to cope had asked his sister if the arrangement could be made permanent. The sisters had taken him under their wing and where they went, he went.

  There’d been a subtle shift in their relationship this last year. Una had begun to see him in a different way. At sixteen he was no longer that gawky boy who was all sharp elbows and knees. He’d filled out and somewhere along the way his features had become chiselled, defining the man he was becoming. Una too had become aware of heads beginning to turn in hers and Aideen’s direction, of the boys, men even eyeing them in a new manner. She hadn’t returned those admiring glances. Nor to her knowledge had her sister who didn’t seem to have much interest in the opposite sex. Una’s reasoning was different, she only had eyes for Leo. She supposed it had been that way since they were ten years old and she’d first seen him leaning on his aunt’s gate.

  She’d declare all these pent-up feelings to Aideen each evening and if Aideen wasn’t to hand, then Mr Bear became her confidante. Now she thought about it, Aideen had been moody of late—quieter than usual. Una shrugged thoughts of her sister aside, she was too full of the afternoon and the feel of Leo’s lips on her.

  When he’d asked her to come to the cinema with him on Saturday afternoon, there was a new film people were raving about, The Three Musketeers, she’d declared excitedly to Aideen that this was to be a date. A proper date. She could tell in the way he had shifted nervously when he asked if she’d like to go. This was no wander down to the canal to look for eels!

  She’d hoped he would kiss her from the moment his arm had slipped around her shoulder in the darkened theatre. The smell of damp wool hung in the air, mingling with cigarettes and Gene Kelly and Lana Turner filled the screen in front of them. Try as she might, Una couldn’t remember a single thing that happened in the film after that. All she could concentrate on was the warmth where Leo’s hand rested over her shoulder. She’d moved a little closer to him and leaned her head against his shoulder like the couple in front of them.

  That damp Saturday afternoon as the credits rolled down and people noisily exited the theatre chattering about the swashbuckling adventure they’d just watched, Leo had taken Una’s hand. It felt natural, she’d thought smiling up at him without guile.

  It was near their old childhood haunt on the canal bank that Leo pulled her under the shelter of a tree. His face had softened as he looked at her and she’d known then that he was going to kiss her. Their lips met and began a gentle exploring dance. She didn’t want him to break away, but she was frightened by where the kiss might lead if he didn’t. They’d both jumped apart as though scalded as a young lad on a bike raced past, calling something cheeky that was lost on the breeze.

  Una put Mr Bear down hearing Aideen’s weary footfall on the stairs. Her sister pushed the door open and kicked off her shoes. She hung her coat up and quickly changed into dry clothes, draping her damp things over the end of her bed. She’d take them downstairs to hang near the fire later. Una’s wet clothes lay in a puddled heap on the floor.

  Aideen flopped down on the bed. ‘Ah, God my feet are killing me.’ She lifted one stockinged leg and rotated her foot in small semicircles, to the left and then to the right before doing the same with the other leg. Aideen had started work in the ladies’ wear department of Brown Thomas a month back and she was finding being on her feet all day hard work.

  ‘I wonder if I’ll get those horrible veins in my legs when I’m older like Miss Harrington. She’s worked in haberdashery forever and her legs are like gnarled tree roots. No fancy stockings can hide those.’ She shuddered and eyed her slender calf, her nose wrinkling at the thought. Watching her sister, Una didn’t regret her decision to apply for secretarial work upon leaving school. Being employed as a typist for an accountant might not hold the glamorous allure of selling the latest fashions showcased in Brown Thomas but at least she sat down most of the day. And there was the bonus of not having to work on a Saturday!

  Aideen had always hankered after employment in the grand department store. It stemmed from their annual trip to the store’s sale to buy new shoes and a coat when they were smaller. Mammy was a stickler for quality and if it meant knitting and sewing everything else in her daughters’ wardrobe so be it. The Brennan girls were always well-turned out—apart from when they went looking for eels, poking about by the banks of the canal!

  Aideen was the quiet, dreamy sister who loved inventing stories around the lives of the well-heeled ladies with furs draped across their shoulders they’d see on those outings. She’d gawp at them swanning around the store, like gazelles at home in their natural environment. Now here she was working there, six days a week—and her feet and legs had never ached so much in her life.

  It was then she saw Mr Ted and she looked from the stuffed toy to her sister noticing the silly expression she had on her face. ‘What’ve you been doing?’

  Una giggled. ‘I told you I was going to see The Three Musketeers with Leo.’

  Aideen nodded. ‘Was Lana Turner gorgeous?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Aideen’s face creased in irritation, she’d had a long day and wasn’t in the mood for playing silly games. ‘What do you mean?’

  Una giggled oblivious to how this silly girly version of herself was annoying her sister. ‘Leo put his arm around me and I don’t remember much about the film at all after that. He held my hand when we walked home, and we got soaked to the bone but we didn’t care. When we reached the big tree by the canal, he pulled me to him like this,’ she demonstrated by picking up Mr Ted once more, ‘and he kissed me.’ Mr Ted bore the brunt of her affections once more and when she released him she turned to look at her sister and said, ‘Aideen it was perfect.’

  ͠

  Una realised she was smiling as she lay in the darkness. Her index finger was resting on her lip as it had done all those years ago when she’d sat on her bed remembering Leo’s sweet kiss. Now she wondered why she hadn’t noticed the way her sister’s face had crumpled as she relayed the story of her and Leo’s outing. How had it escaped her notice that her sister too was in love with Leo Greene and just like her had been since they were ten years old? How her disobeying her mam all those years before could have had ripples like a stone being thrown in a pond. She knew the answer. She’d had plenty of time to think on it.

  It was because she hadn’t wanted to see it. She was sixteen and in that way of young girls far too absorbed in her own feelings to want to acknowledge anyone else’s. Her sixteen-year-old self had been caught up in the thrill of her first love, enthralled by it and she hadn’t seen Aideen, not really. Una blinked away the burn of tears and sighed partly in frustration at her lack of sleep and partly in sorrow at the way things had turned out for them.

  If she were at home, she would get up and make herself a cup of tea. She listened out but there was nothing to hear, the guesthouse was silent. Would it matter if she were to go and make herself a cup of tea in the guest’s lounge? It wouldn’t disturb anyone, and it had to be better than lying here wide awake being tormented
by things she couldn’t change. Yes she decided pushing the covers aside and sitting up, she’d make herself a cup of tea. Mammy’s friend Maire had always said a good strong brew could fix anything.

  Chapter 25

  Aisling’s mind was whirring with thoughts of Marcus’s visit and what she should do. She’d been tossing and turning for hours. This was hopeless, she sighed pulling herself upright. She flicked on the bedside light, she might as well get up and make herself a cup of tea. It would be better than spending another hour thumping her pillow in frustration.

  Moira’s door was open a crack and she could hear her sister snoring lightly. It had been late when she’d gotten in. Aisling had already been in bed for what felt like hours when Moira peered around her door whispering loudly, ‘Ash, are you awake?’ She’d stayed silent and lain still, in no mood to talk to her inebriated sister. She knew if Moira had gotten wind of Marcus having been to see her she would be in for a tipsy tirade and the language would not be pretty. Moira gave up after a few beats and stumbled off to bed.

  Aisling knew she’d be sleeping like a log so there was no need to tiptoe as she made her way through to the darkened kitchen and switched on the light. There was a slight chill in the air and she was glad of her fluffy dressing gown as she set about retrieving a mug from the dishwasher. The central heating wouldn’t come on until five, timed to be toasty for the morning. It was the time of year when the early mornings and evenings were a reminder of the march of autumn toward winter.

  Aisling went through the motions of filling the kettle and switching it on. She cursed under her breath as she opened the tea canister and saw it was empty. She stood there for a moment, should she forget the tea and go back to bed? The thought of lying awake until daybreak held no appeal. There were plenty of tea bags in the guest lounge, she knew this because she’d restocked them again that morning.

  Should she brave going downstairs? No one would be about at this time. She wouldn’t disturb anyone, not if she was quiet. Her decision made she went and searched out her slippers and being careful not to lock the apartment door behind her—she’d have to set off the fire alarms if she locked herself out and needed to wake Moira—she set off down the stairs. Every creak of the old timber beneath the carpet seemed magnified in the silence of the old house and she stood cringing for a second or two on the staircase before taking the next step.

  She finally reached the bottom and stood frozen by the realisation that a light was on in the lounge. The door was pulled too, but not shut and in the darkness she could see the glimmer creeping out through the cracks. It wasn’t like Evie to forget to turn everything off. Her dad picked her up faithfully at ten pm and she always did the rounds before locking up for the night of a weekend.

  Who would be sitting in there at this hour of the night? Perhaps one of their guests had had one too many and fallen asleep on the sofa. She’d take a peek. It wouldn’t be fair for James to be confronted by some drunkard when he arrived in the morning that was not in his job description!

  Aisling pushed the door open and peered into the room blinking against the sudden brightness. It took her a second to realise Una Brennan was staring back at her. She was sitting in one of the antique wingback armchairs. A small figure shrouded in her dressing gown which was green like the fabric mammy had chosen to recover the chairs in. ‘To tie the curtains in and bring the whole look together,’ she’d said. A cup of tea was cooling on the teak occasional table and the light came not from the chandelier dangling from the middle of the ceiling, but rather the freestanding reading lamp. It illuminated her somewhat spookily from behind.

  Una’s eyes mirrored the same surprise as Aisling’s, cats’ eyes caught in headlights at finding one another awake at this time.

  Aisling spoke first. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Brennan,’ she stepped into the room. ‘I’ve run out of tea bags upstairs. I’ll just grab a couple and leave you in peace.’ She’d given the woman a fright she knew, but then she’d gotten one herself.

  ‘You couldn’t sleep either?’ Una asked, her heart beginning to slow to its normal rate of beats per minute once more. She hadn’t known who was going to appear when the door had squeaked open and she was acutely aware that she was in her robe and slippers.

  ‘No, things on my mind and the harder I try not to think about them the worst it gets.’ Aisling smiled ruefully making her way over to the buffet to retrieve the tea bags.

  ‘I’d like the company if you care to join me.’ Una was surprised at the words that popped unbidden from her mouth.

  Aisling too was taken aback. This was not the same shrewish woman she’d been encountering these last few mornings.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll make myself a cuppa, would you like a top up?’

  ‘Yes ta.’

  Aisling set about making the tea all the while wondering over the peculiar situation she found herself in.

  ‘My mam had a friend who always said a cuppa could fix anything.’ Una repeated her earlier sentiment out loud this time as Aisling placed the cup and saucer down next to her and picking up her own cup sat down in the chair on the other side of the occasional table.

  Aisling blew on the steam rising from her teacup. ‘I don’t think a cup of tea is going to fix my problem.’

  ‘Nor mine,’ Una said. ‘When I was little I used to think tea must have magical properties if it could fix things.’

  Aisling raised a smile. ‘My mammy always says that a problem shared is a problem halved.’ It was one of Maureen O’Mara’s favourite sayings.

  ‘Hmm simplistic but possibly more helpful than tea alone.’

  Aisling stole a glance at the older woman, her face looked gentler than it had this morning. She realised it was because she wasn’t wearing the disgruntled expression she’d perpetually had in place since arriving at O’Mara’s. It would be nice to confide in someone who could view her situation from a neutral vantage point.

  ‘You could be my Switzerland,’ she said.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Oh, sorry, I was thinking aloud. What I meant was that if I talk to you, you’d be neutral. You won’t have a pre-existing opinion like my family and friends. They all think my ex, Marcus is a selfish eejit.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’

  They sat in silence for a minute or two sipping their respective tea. It was Aisling who spoke up.

  ‘This time last year we were going to be married. We hadn’t known each other long, but I knew as soon as I met him, he was the one for me. Or, at least I thought I did.’ Aisling began haltingly at first and then decided as her mammy would say, in for a penny in for a pound.

  ‘He wasn’t, because he took off for Cork two weeks before our wedding with a bad case of cold feet. All he left behind was a note saying he loved me, but he didn’t want to marry me. I was beside myself, but I threw myself into managing this place and I was beginning to see that my life would go on without him when he started writing to me. He’d made a mistake, and he wanted me back. I ignored his letters, but they kept coming and then yesterday he came here, to the guesthouse to see me. I wanted to hate him or at the very least still be angry with him and I tried as hard as I could to conjure up those emotions, but I couldn’t.’

  ‘And now part of you wants to give him a second chance and part of you feels that to do so would be letting yourself down.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Aisling drained her tea. ‘Listening to him yesterday it became clear why he never wanted to get married. His parents have an unhappy life together and he’s scared of winding up like them. He got caught up in the idea of it because he says, ‘it’s what he thought I wanted’.’

  ‘And did you?’

  She nodded. ‘My dad hadn’t long passed, and I was pleased to have something else to focus on. So yes, I suppose I got swept up in the idea of a perfect day but now, I’m not sure now whether it was for Marcus and me at all. I’ve had plenty of time to think and I can see I was using the wedding as an antidote for me, Mammy, Roisin an
d Moira to Dad dying. Only there is no antidote to grief. We were all reeling from his illness and the fact he wasn’t with us anymore when I met Marcus. I think that’s why our relationship moved as fast as it did. Maybe I did bully him along. Oh, I don’t know.’ Aisling shrugged. ‘What he did leaving the way he did, I just don’t know if I can ever move past that.’

  ‘Yes I can quite see your problem.’ Una took a sip of her tea as she mulled over Aisling’s predicament. ‘The solution’s really rather simple though.’

  It was? This was promising Aisling leaned toward Una eager to hear what she would say next.

  ‘You must follow your heart dear. There’s a lot to be said for forgiveness, Aisling. It isn’t always an easy thing to do, but it is the right thing to do. You don’t want to live a life of regrets because you were too proud to find a way back.’

  Aisling got the distinct impression they were no longer talking just about her and Marcus.

  ‘I was engaged once too. A long time ago now.’ Una’s voice snagged as she found herself wheeling back in time to 1950, telling Aisling the story of that year and how what had happened had changed the course of her life irrevocably.

  Chapter 26

  1950

  Una pushed open the front gate and made her way up the path. She’d finished work early having asked Mr Hart if she might go home. She’d woken that morning feeling odd and as the day had stretched on she’d begun to feel decidedly unwell. The contents of her breakfast had been tossed up in the toilet and her throat was hot and aching. Her eyes were burning, and she couldn’t focus on the paperwork she was supposed to be typing. She was chilled one minute and fiery the next. A pink rash too had appeared in the creases of her arms, it alarmed her, and she’d desperately tried not to scratch at it.