It was after midnight when Aisling clambered into the taxi. Alasdair had called it to take her around the corner and home. She hadn’t found herself in rags, her taxi didn’t turn into a pumpkin, but her feet ached just as much as if they had been encased in glass slippers all evening. She couldn’t wait to kick her shoes off and give her tender tootsies a massage. Her ears were ringing with the music they’d jigged along to with the best of them.
It was a miracle she and Leila had been able to get up from the table let alone perform energetic dance moves after the dessert Quinn had produced. Come to think of it Quinn had been a little subdued after dinner, and he’d barely touched any of the bite sized sweeties he’d brought out to share. Instead he’d sat back content to let them snaffle the lot. He hadn’t wanted to join them either as they muscled in on the tiny dance area. He’d sank the rest of the bottle of wine in their absence. It wasn’t like him. She’d been having too much fun to notice anything amiss at the time and scrunching her toes she felt a guilty pang. A good friend would have noticed.
Maybe he was worried about his mam. He’d said she was doing alright, but the stroke had given the family a shock. She should have asked him instead of twittering on like she had about Marcus. She’d pop around in the next day or so and thank him for a deadly night, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a great craic. She’d be sure to ask him then if everything was okay. She settled on that as the driver slammed, his door shut and performed a U-turn. His English was stilted, and he clearly wasn’t in the mood to practice it given the time of night.
It was a miracle she’d managed to dance in her Jimmy Choo’s but despite grievous risk to her ankles she’d forgotten all about them as she threw herself into the mix. She never could resist a tin pipe and a fiddle. The music was catchy and the atmosphere too infectious not to get in amongst it.
Aisling loved to dance it made her happy. She’d briefly done ballet as a little girl, but she didn’t have the physique to be a ballerina—too sturdy and she’d joined the Brownies for a brief stint instead. Her dancing over the years had been relegated to sticky floors after dark with her friends until Leila had talked her into coming along to salsa classes. She rested her head back on the seat and closed her eyes as the conversation between her and Quinn replayed. Why had she never gone back for a second class? She’d loved the initial one the three of them had attended. Not just because she’d met Marcus but because the music had made her feel carefree like she was connecting with another part of herself. A part that wasn’t sensible and bound by duty. Why then had she felt because it wasn’t Marcus’s thing it couldn’t be hers either?
She massaged her temples. She was knackered, last night’s broken sleep had caught up on her. The second wind she’d been running on had well and truly blown itself out now. The taxi pulled up outside O’Mara’s which was in darkness. Aisling paid her fare and the driver waited until she’d let herself in. She locked the door behind her and stepped out of her shoes her sigh of relief an audible hiss in the deserted reception. As she tiptoed through the inky interior she passed by Room 1 and wondered whether Una had come back. She might have decided to stay at Aideen’s. She’d have to wait until the morning to find out. She was looking forward to hearing how the rest of the day’s catching up had panned out for the sisters and what their plans were now they’d reconnected.
The stairs creaked as she made her way up them despite her best efforts to be quiet. Although fair play to her she was getting quite good at this creeping about nocturnally business. She unlocked the door to the apartment expecting to have to pat around the wall for the light switch but Moira uncharacteristically considerate, had left a lamp on for her. She would long since be tucked up in bed Aisling thought, tempted to head straight for her own bed.
Her stomach rolled over reminding her of the evening’s excesses. What was it mammy swore by for digestion problems? Bicarbonate of soda dissolved in warm water sprang to mind. She’d see if that would do the trick. It certainly wouldn’t do any harm. So she opened the cupboard where the baking things that hadn’t seen the light of day since Maureen O’Mara had moved out were kept. There was a tin labelled bicarb, Mammy was a good labeller, tucked down the back which she dug out. She hoped making up the potion it hadn’t expired in 1990 or some other decade. It didn’t taste flash, punishment for all the rich food she’d shovelled down earlier but she got it down.
She forced herself into the bathroom to remove her makeup not fancying waking up with her eyes glued together with the evening’s mascara. At last face washed, teeth brushed she crept into her bedroom and tossing back the covers clambered in all set to snuggle down and visit the land of nod. Aisling’s scream a second later as she felt a warm arm drape itself across her middle should have brought the Guards rushing to their door.
Chapter 36
‘Aisling for the love of God it’s me, Mammy! Shut up.’
‘Jaysus Mammy,’ Aisling rasped, clutching her chest. ‘What’re you doing?’
‘Having a heart attack that’s what. I’m getting too old for shocks like that. I didn’t know what was going on.’
‘If anyone’s having palpitations, it’s me. I didn’t know you were there. You could have been anyone.’
‘Who were you expecting to find in yer bed then?’
‘Not you!’
Light flooded the room and Aisling and Maureen blinked at Moira looking wild eyed as she stood in the doorway clutching her bedside lamp blinking back at them. ‘What the feck is going on? I thought one of you was being murdered.’
They both pointed at each other and said, ‘It was her fault.’
‘Why’re you holding your lamp?’ Aisling asked.
‘It was the only thing I could find to clobber yer one with.’
‘What one?’
‘The one who was after sneaking into your room.’
‘But it was Mammy.’
‘For feck’s sake Aisling, I know that now.’
‘Well I wish one of you had thought to tell me what was going on. Why didn’t you go in Patrick’s room Mammy?’
‘Ah, the bed’s too hard for my back, yours is nice and soft.’
‘Who do you think you are? Goldilocks?’
‘Shut up you two,’ Moira muttered.
Aisling began to calm down and rationale set in. ‘I suppose we better check none of the guests were disturbed. We don’t want anyone calling the Guards. We’ll have everybody up then if they start hammering on the front door. Come on.’ They could jolly well come with her, she’d done enough skulking about in the dark as it was, and her poor heart couldn’t stand any more shocks like the one she’d just had.
Maureen borrowed Aisling’s dressing gown and she threw an oversized cardigan on over top of her nighty while Moira, in her pyjamas once more led the way.
‘If I break my neck getting about in the dark like this—,’
‘Shush Mammy,’ Aisling threw over her shoulder. A beat later she nearly smacked into the back of Moira which would have sent her toppling down the stairs. She steadied herself focussing on what it was that had brought her up short. A seemingly biblical apparition was illuminated by the light shining from Room 6’s open door. At the sight of the wiry old man with the halo of silvery hair and wispy beard, Maureen began to cross herself.
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph,’ she whispered peering around Aisling’s shoulder. She could read Mammy’s mind and before she began reciting Hail Mary’s she said, ‘Its Branok Nancarrow, Mammy. He and his wife are staying with us. They’re from Cornwall not Jerusalem, Jesus Christ hasn’t come calling.’ She could almost feel the air go out of Mammy.
‘I was thinking more Moses than Jesus for your information.’
Branok looking decidedly rumpled peered up at the three women huddled together near the top of the stairs. ‘What’s going on? We heard a scream.’ From around the door peeped a bleary-eyed, Emblyn.
Aisling stepped forward. ‘We’re so sorry to have woken you and Emblyn
, Branok. It was me you heard and we’re fine. Mammy here, gave me a fright that’s all.’
Maureen pushed her way past Aisling and Moira and headed down the stairs. ‘Maureen O’Mara, former proprietor come to spend the night with her girls. How-do-ye-do?’
Branok shook her hand a little taken aback by this bold greeting given the late hour. Emblyn stayed where she was watching the proceedings.
‘The girls have always been prone to dramatics but Aisling, well she should have been on the stage.’
‘Mammy! That’s not fair you were in my bed.’
Branok looked from mother to daughter, bewilderment on his face. ‘But everybody’s alright that’s the main thing.’
Chastened, Aisling marched down and took hold of Mammy’s elbow. ‘We are thank you Branok and again we’re so sorry to have disturbed you and Emblyn.’ She flashed an apologetic look at his wife. ‘We’ll leave you both in peace. Goodnight.’
Branok said there was no harm done and bade them goodnight.
‘Don’t pull my arm, so,’ Maureen said as Aisling herded her up the stairs.
She was not apologetic, nor did she loosen her grip. This was not the time for polite conversation with their guests. She’d be asking what Branok did for a living next and God help them all if she found out he and Emblyn were artists. There’d be no stopping her then, she’d be asking for tips on her latest watercolour. No, she needed to be taken back upstairs.
As she stepped back inside the apartment Aisling wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not only two guests bothering to get up. She could have been being attacked for all anyone knew. Ah well, she yawned, at least Moira and her lamp had come to her rescue. ‘I’ll take Patrick’s bed tonight Mammy,’ she said taking herself off to her brother’s old room, before there could be any argument.
͠
Aisling was asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow. It was a fitful sleep filled with dreams that made her toss and turn. Marcus was in their dining room, he was dressed in the suit she’d always hated. The one that didn’t sit right around his bum and he was holding a slip of paper. She was in the room too only she was tall and willowy. She’d transformed into Maria Lozano. She strutted toward him, the most fabulous pair of pink Louboutin pumps on her feet beckoning him to join her in a dance of love. He shook his head and waved the paper at her, he was angry. What was on the paper? She peered closer and realised it was her American Express bill. It had angry red circles on it. He threw the paper down and sat on the sofa, picking up the remote he switched the television on. The last thing Aisling remembered from the dream when she opened her eyes and realised morning had arrived was he’d been watching the Crocodile Hunter.
She sat up in bed, eyes wide with sudden clarity. She knew exactly what she had to do.
Chapter 37
Moira had left for work by the time Mammy made an appearance. Aisling was showered and dressed, sitting at the table eating her toast with relish. The weight she’d been carrying since Marcus’s letters had begun arriving, had lifted. She’d made her mind up as to what she was going to do where he was concerned and the strawberry jam she’d dolloped on her toast tasted all the sweeter for it.
‘I’ll have a cuppa and get myself sorted. I’m looking forward to saying hello to everyone, then I’ll be away. I’ve a painting class at twelve. I’m working on a representation of the pier. I think it’ll look fetching in reception once I’ve finished it.’
Representation didn’t bode well, Aisling thought.
‘Now the rain’s gone off, I might squeeze in a round of golf later, too. Derbhilla’s getting about much better now. She’s stopped hobbling about like a cowboy at high noon. Aisling where’ve you gone and put the tea bags?’
‘Nowhere they’re in the cupboard where they always are. Put your glasses on.’
Mammy enjoyed breezing into O’Mara’s. She was greeted like a retired Hollywood star each time even if it’d only been a matter of weeks since she’d last called in.
Aisling finished her toast, debated another slice but decided that would be greedy, and getting up carried the plate through to the kitchen. She retrieved the sugar bowl and put the milk on the bench too before Mammy could ask where they were. ‘I’m going downstairs now. There’s a guest I want to check on. I’ll see you in a while.’
Mammy was only half listening. ‘I think I might see if Mrs Flaherty can spare me a nice sausage and egg. I haven’t had a cooked breakfast for ages. Alright if I borrow a pair of clean knickers? Moira’s won’t fit.’
Charming. She wasn’t pinching her expensive Agent Provocateur panties. ‘I’ll leave a pair on the bed for you,’ Aisling said—the old pair from Marks & Spencer she’d been meaning to chuck out should do the trick.
She headed down the stairs and called out good morning to Bronagh. She waved her cereal spoon by way of return greeting and Aisling carried on to the kitchen. Room 1’s closed door gave no clue as to whether Una was in there or not and she was eager to see if she was having breakfast. Mrs Flaherty had other ideas, accosting her in the doorway and blocking her view from the dining room.
‘That fecking fox has been again.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘Oh dear indeed. The bin lid was lying on the ground and he’s left a trail of rubbish. I tell you Aisling, I won’t be responsible for my actions if I get hold of him.’
‘Fair play Mrs Flaherty. I’ll see what can be done about him, shall I?’
They both knew full well this wouldn’t happen, but Mrs Flaherty felt better for having sounded off. She leaned forward giving Aisling a whiff of bacon fat. ‘Oh and Aisling,’ her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘You’ll never believe it.’
‘What?’
‘Yer woman from Room 1, her with the face that only a mother could love over there at the corner table, complimented me on my white pudding this morning. She said it was the best she’d ever had. Went so far to say it was an art form getting the outside as golden and crispy as I managed to yet making sure the inside still stayed creamy and melted in your mouth. Well I don’t mind telling, you could have blown me down with a feather.’
It would take a lot more than a feather to knock Mrs Flaherty down. A bulldozer might do the trick. Aisling smiled, ‘Compliments where compliments are due. Don’t I always say you’re a wonder in the kitchen?’
Mrs Flaherty’s apple cheeks flushed with pride and she toddled happily back to the kitchen, fox forgotten. The way was clear for Aisling to make a beeline for Una.
The older woman put her cup down as Aisling approached and beamed at her pushing her chair back.
‘Don’t get up Una.’ Aisling pulled the chair opposite her out and sat down. ‘I’m so glad I found you. I’ve been desperate to know how the rest of your day with Aideen went.’
Una looked different, younger, brighter, and the pinched expression was gone. She looked how Aisling felt and she wondered if she looked different this morning too.
Una reached across the table and took Aisling’s hand in hers, holding it tight. ‘I’ve got my sister back, thanks to you dear.’
‘Oh it wasn’t thanks to me. I didn’t do anything.’
‘You did more than you’ll ever know.’
‘Well you helped me too.’
They smiled at each other and Una gave her hand a final squeeze before releasing it. ‘It’s been decided. I’m moving in with Aideen. I want to be there to help while she has the rest of her treatment. It will take a load off the boys’ shoulders too. They’ve their own families to be thinking of and I want to spend every second I can with my sister.’
‘That’s wonderful, Una. It means I’ll get to see you again after you check out today too.’
‘I’d like that. I’d like that very much. Now then, what’s got you looking like the cat that got the cream this morning?’
‘I’ve made my mind up where Marcus is concerned. It came to me this morning, clear as day. I had this dream you see and now I know what I’ve got to d
o.’
Chapter 38
Aisling left Una to pack and headed back upstairs. There was no time for her morning check to see O’Mara’s cogs were turning as they should be, she had a phone call to make. She heard voices as she reached the landing. It was Ita and Mammy they were in Room 5 and she couldn’t help peeking in on them. Mammy was perched on the chair by the window asking after Ita’s mam while Ita whipped the sheets off and remade the bed faster than she’d ever seen her undertake any task before. Perhaps she should get a cardboard cut-out of Mammy and stand it in the entrance of the rooms she was supposed to be making up.
Carrying on up the stairs she knew when Maureen ventured down to reception she and Bronagh would embrace like it had been years, not mere weeks since they’d last seen each other. ‘She’s only come from Howth, Bronagh not New Zealand.’ Aisling had said the last time she’d witnessed this carry on.
‘Sure look it Aisling you don’t work for someone for thirty years without missing them when you don’t see them on a daily basis anymore.’
‘Fair play.’ Aisling had said.
She let herself back into the apartment and for a moment, only a moment wished Mammy would move back in. The place was sparkling, she cast her eyes about before picking up the phone to dial the number she knew by heart.
͠
The sky was a moody canopy as she followed the path through the Green. The grey clouds were left over from the downpour the day before but there were patches of blue gallantly appearing. A duck quacked and waddled across the path in front of her and Aisling shivered as a sudden gust sent leaves floating down around her. She was glad she’d thought to put her coat on as her boots crunched over the leaf laden path. Marcus was there already, Aisling saw as she approached the bandstand. A lone tourist was trying to capture an arty shot of it, her photo ruined by a man with a newspaper tucked under his arm striding in front of the line of her lens.
Aisling’s resolve faltered momentarily at the sight of him. It would have been easier to do this over the phone, take the easy way out, but that wasn’t her style. It was his. He waved out and began to walk toward her. The lightness in his step told her how he thought this conversation was going to go. Her insides tightened. You can do this Aisling.
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