‘I think Eric will want me to have an abortion. He can’t stand his sister’s kids. They wind him up.’
‘Parents always say that other people’s kids wind you up, when your own never do. So don’t worry about that. Plus, you have to forget about that now. You have to work out what you want. Do you want this baby?’
She looked at me, her eyes wide, brimming with tears. Then she put a hand over her tummy and said, ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’m so scared I can’t sleep or eat. But yes, I think I do want this baby.’
I smiled and brushed her fringe away from her wet face. I expected as much from her. ‘Well then, that’s decided. You always said you wanted to be married by the time you were twenty-five, so that you could start a family. You’re mixing things up a bit by having a baby first. That’s all.’
She smiled through her tears and clasped my hand, bringing it to her lips and kissing it. The tenderness of the caress made me cry too.
‘I don’t deserve you.’
‘Yes, you do. We always get through anything life throws at us. Together. Now let’s make a plan. First things first, you need to go to the doctor and find out how far along you are, OK? Then we can work out what the next step for you should be. Don’t you worry, Maeve, I’ll be with you through it all. I promise.’
‘You always are. You’re the best sister I could ever have. You didn’t even want to come to New York, yet you came, for me.’
‘But look what I got in return for that leap of faith. I love Ryan so much. If I think about not being with him, it breaks me out in a cold sweat. I’m the one who should be thanking you for making me come with you. It’s turned out to be the best decision of my life.’
As the kettle began to whistle its way to boiling point, Maeve started to sob. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this. But I think I’m going to go home to Ireland. To Mam.’
‘Shh. Don’t make any hasty decisions yet. Let’s take this one day at a time, okay?’ And as I held her, I wondered what would I do, if she did go home? Could I stay here in New York on my own, with Ryan? And to my surprise, I realized that yes, I could.
33
BEA
February 2020
Nellie’s Pub, Kilmore Quay, Wexford
We’d been parked outside Nellie’s pub for over twenty minutes. But every time I tried to open the door to go in, I chickened out.
Katrina was getting impatient, and I couldn’t blame her. ‘Enough already, Bea. We either go back to hotel or we go in. But this car is too cold.’
I looked at myself a second time using my iPhone camera as a mirror.
‘You look fine,’ Stephanie said. ‘You’d never know you had been crying earlier in the graveyard. Me, I always look like I’ve an eye disease after a good boohoo.’
‘I know I have to go in. And I want to. But I’m scared. What if she doesn’t want to speak to me?’
‘Then we leave. And you will always know that you tried. You are no worse off than you are now,’ Katrina said.
‘Plus we’re right here with you. You’re not on your own,’ Stephanie said.
‘OK. Let’s do it. I need a code word for let’s get the fork out of here though.’
‘I vote chicken.’ Katrina said, winking.
‘Ha ha, very funny.’
‘Right. Chicken. Fork out of there. Got it,’ Stephanie said.
I dawdled behind them as they walked in and, when I hesitated at the door, Katrina grabbed me by the collar of my coat and yanked me inside.
‘Thanks,’ I said, using as much sarcasm as I could muster.
The pub was dark, despite being mid-afternoon. Low wooden beams lined the ceiling. A long mahogany bar ran from one side of the room to the other, with bar stools in front. It was empty except for one man who sat at the end of the bar, nursing a pint of beer. Stockton’s Wing were singing about a beautiful affair in the background.
‘I love that song! Your gran was always playing that when we were kids.’ Stephanie said.
I gulped back some tears. It felt like a message from Gran. She was here with me, in spirit. It gave me strength in a strange way.
‘I don’t see any bar staff,’ Stephanie said, looking up and down the room.
‘Herself will be back in a minute,’ the man at the end of the bar said to us, his eyes still focused on the pint he nursed in front of him.
‘Thank you, sir,’ Stephanie answered.
‘Not from around here by the sounds of you.’
‘No, we’re visiting.’
‘Well, you are very welcome to Kilmore.’
‘Thank you,’ Stephanie answered, our resident spokeswoman. We took a seat at a small round table beside the lit fireplace, a welcome warmth. Beer mats were scattered across its scratched surface. As I ran my hands over the uneven surface, I tried to imagine my mom sitting here, doing the same thing. I shivered at the realization that there was a strong possibility that this had happened. From what little I knew about her childhood, she had spent a lot of time in this pub.
‘It feels like we’re on the set of a movie, doesn’t it?’ Stephanie said.
I understood what she meant. The decor looked like it came straight from the set of The Quiet Man. I thought of the tourists I’d watched in New York throughout my life, taking everything in with wide eyes; this time it was us. A tall black post with a set of black-and-white road signs stood at the end of the bar. Directions to Dublin, Waterford, Kilkenny and Belfast were displayed. And there was an eclectic array of antiques hanging from every wall. An old telephone, a typewriter, a contraption that looked like it belonged on a farm and some oil lamps. The walls were painted a rich plum and as my eyes adjusted to the light I noticed that, despite the room being dark, it was spotlessly clean.
And I liked it. The decor felt comforting. Even though I’d only just arrived, I felt quite at home here. I closed my eyes and imagined my mother walking through this bar. She must have done so, hundreds of times throughout her childhood and early adulthood until she left Ireland. The flames from the fire cast shadows on the wall, for a moment I saw her. My hands began to shake and my head pounded once again. A bloody headache that I could not shake off. I ignored it and pulled my mom back to my mind’s eye.
The Mom of the photographs I had grown up looking at.
The Mom of my dreams.
The Mom I craved with every fibre in my body.
I’d spent my childhood trying to find ways to feel connected to her and, sitting here in Nellie’s, I’d finally succeeded.
No sooner had that thought left me than a door opened behind the bar. A woman walked in and said something to the beer-drinking man. Time slowed down, Katrina and Stephanie disappeared and the only person left in the room was my aunt.
I knew that it wasn’t Mom, no matter how alike they were. My head knew that. But head and heart are two different things and, for a moment, I allowed myself to dream that a ghost I’d longed for had finally arisen.
‘Oh jeepers, look, she’s off again,’ Stephanie whispered to Katrina, then began to root around her handbag for a tissue.
My aunt turned her attention to us and shouted from her position behind the bar, ‘Sorry to keep you waiting. What can I get you, ladies?’
Stephanie shouted back, ‘We were happy to wait. Could we have three bottles of Corona please?’
‘Sure. Glasses or by the neck?
‘The neck is great.’
‘I’ll drop them down to you.’
I listened to their exchange as if I were out of my body, a passer-by listening in on another’s conversation.
‘You look just like her,’ Katrina said.
‘If Mom hadn’t died, I think that’s exactly how she would look today.’ I watched her as she prepared our drinks order. Her hair was shorter than in the photographs I’d seen of her. There was one taken of my mom and her in their apartment in Woodside, cheesy smiles for the camera, wine glasses in hand. I loved it. Dad had taken it one evening before they went out for the ni
ght. Now my aunt wore her hair cut into a short, blunt bob, with a long fringe that she kept tucked behind her ear. She was still slender and pale I noticed, as she emerged from behind the bar and brought our drinks over. Did my mother have a similar gait to her? Physically, they could have been twins. And it took my breath away. I felt anxious and exhilarated all at once. She placed our Coronas on the beer mats.
‘Where you girls from?’
‘New York,’ Stephanie replied. ‘We arrived earlier today. We’re staying in the Coast Hotel.’
‘It’s nice there. You’ll be very comfortable.’ Then I felt my aunt’s eyes on me. I looked up and our eyes locked. She went paler, if that were possible. I realized I wasn’t the only one seeing a ghost.
‘Hello,’ I said, in a croak.
‘Hello.’
Stephanie uttered an ‘Oh. My. God.’ to which Katrina hissed, ‘Be quiet.’
‘You look just like her,’ my aunt said.
‘So do you.’ I felt weak.
‘It’s so good to meet you,’ she said, her voice filled with emotion.
I lost my voice and couldn’t say anything in return. This was the most surreal moment of my life.
‘Are you all here on holidays?’
I looked at my friends and tried to convey to them that I needed their help.
Katrina handed me my Corona and ordered me to drink. ‘Bea, you need this.’
‘I’m Stephanie and this is Katrina,’ our spokeswoman chipped in.
‘It’s really nice to meet you both.’ She turned back to me. ‘Bea. I like that. Suits you more than Beatrice, I think.’
‘Thank you. Is it OK that I’m here?’ I was relieved that my voice had come out sounding normal enough. The sharp, cold beer had done the trick.
‘More than OK.’ And to prove her words, she smiled at me. It’s funny how a smile can change a face. She didn’t look so scary now. ‘Is it just the three of you visiting?’
I took this as code for is your father here too? ‘Just us. I have some work to do in Cork. But we decided to come here first of all.’
My aunt smiled as she looked at the three of us, one by one. ‘Good friends are everything. You three remind me of … never mind.’ She didn’t finish.
Reading her mind and thinking she’d like it, I recited the quote from The Three Amigos, ‘Whenever there is injustice, you’ll find us. Wherever there is suffering, we’ll be there. Wherever Liberty is threatened, you will find the …’ I paused, thinking that this could be a Hollywood moment for us as she’d finish the last part. Oh how we’d laugh. But she left me feeling foolish with the unfinished ending dangling in the air between us. She held her hand up and I wasn’t sure if she was commanding me to stop speaking or offering it as an apology.
‘I’m sorry. Dad said it was something you and my mom and Michelle used to say. I didn’t intend to upset you.’
It appeared I had struck a nerve. I wasn’t sure why, though. She seemed to pull herself together and turned back towards me, ‘No, it’s me who is sorry. You gave me a shock, that’s all. You sound so like her. Despite your accent being all wrong.’
‘Dad always says the same whenever I say that line. I’ve watched the movie dozens of times, because he said Mom loved it so much.’
‘When we were young, we used to quote lines from that movie verbatim. It was our code. You took me by surprise. I’ve not heard it for the longest time.’
‘How is Michelle? Are you in contact with her still?’
‘We see each other all the time. She’s busy with her life as the wife of our local councilman and they have four kids, aged from eight to eighteen. But she’s not changed really from the girl she was then. She’s been a good friend to me.’
‘Are you married?’ Stephanie asked.
‘No.’ I’d wondered the same thing myself many times and had half hoped that I might find a room full of cousins here. But it appeared that this side of my family was destined to remain small. We fell into another silence and it wasn’t one of those comfortable ones either. The air was thick with the unsaid. All of the times I’d dreamt of meeting my mother’s family, it had never gone like this. Maybe Dad had been right. I should have left the past in the past.
‘I’m glad you still are good friends with Michelle,’ I said; anything to break the silence. ‘I’d be lost without Katrina and Stephanie.’
‘Best friends forever,’ Stephanie gushed.
‘Nothing lasts forever.’ A wince flew across my aunt’s face as she whispered that.
Once again I felt like I was missing the punchline in a long joke.
‘Pint when you’re ready!’ the man at the bar shouted, raising his empty glass in the air.
‘I’ll be with you in a sec,’ she called back. ‘Why are you in Ireland, Bea? You’ve never come before.’
‘I wanted to see where Mom came from. Understand a bit more about her life. Dad has told me everything he knows, but as he was only with her for a short time, I feel like there must be more to her story. I hoped you and Michelle could fill in the gaps.’
‘Lucy! A man could die of drought here!’ The man shouted again.
My Aunt Lucy stood up and walked back to the bar to serve him.
34
LUCY
November 1992
Woodside, Brooklyn, Manhattan
I was gone for a few moments. But sometimes it only takes that to change the course of your life.
We were out of bread. And as toast and tea were all Maeve could manage, I ran across the road to the local market to buy some more. I’d watched her fall apart little by little over the past couple of days. I was prepared to do anything I could to make things easier for her. She’d made me swear not to tell anyone about the pregnancy. And I understood that, because if she did decide to terminate, then there was no need for anyone else to know. But it was a burden to hold it on my own, with nobody to talk to about it. I wished Michelle was with us, because she would have made it more bearable for us all.
Ryan knew something was up. He kept asking me what was wrong when he called. I’d cancelled a couple of planned dates, which I hated to do, but I couldn’t leave Maeve. She needed me. I would never break my promise to Maeve, so I asked him to trust me that I’d tell him when and if I could. He’d told me on the phone earlier that a scene he was writing wouldn’t cooperate and he needed a break from his manuscript. If I were truthful, I needed a break too. I planned to tell Maeve that I was going out for a few hours later on. But Ryan took matters into his own hands and called to see me while I was out shopping. As I turned onto the corridor to our apartment, I could hear raised voices. I thought it was Eric and Maeve at first, that she’d finally told him about the baby. But the nearer I got to the door, I realized it was my boyfriend shouting at my sister. They had always got on well together.
‘How do you know?’ Ryan shouted.
‘Because I always used a condom with Eric!’
My key to the front door hovered in the air in front of the lock. I tried to make sense of what they’d said. She must have told Ryan she was pregnant. But that didn’t explain why she had to explain herself to him. Was Ryan more traditional than I realized? Did he disapprove of her being pregnant? That didn’t feel right. But if it was, we were going to have a major problem. My hand shook and I couldn’t get the bloody key to cooperate for me. It kept missing the lock. The funny thing is, if I’d been steadier of hand, I wouldn’t have heard the next bit. I would have walked in and they could have made some excuse to explain their argument. And I’ve no doubt that I would have been gullible enough to believe them.
Because they were my boyfriend and my sister. Why would I ever doubt anything they said to me?
As I tried to open our door, Ryan said, ‘We can never tell Lucy. It would kill her.’
Those words steadied my hand and, open sesame, the key slid into the lock. The room silenced. They watched me as I threw the groceries on the kitchen counter. I could almost hear their thoughts bounce across
silently to each other, ‘What did she hear? Don’t say a word. LIE!’
‘You can never tell me what?’ I asked. I was surprised how strong my voice sounded.
They looked at each other and then back to me.
I saw the guilt that Maeve had been wearing for weeks mirrored on Ryan’s face. A thousand scenarios rushed through my head. But I pushed them away. I loved Ryan and he was going to propose to me. He’d hinted as much. We were going to buy a house, somewhere near Innisfree. And Mam would come and stay, to help take care of her grandchildren. We’d have three. Two boys and a girl. I had our future all worked out. Ryan was a big part of why I was willing to give up my beloved Ireland, leave my heartbroken, grief-stricken Mam on her own. And this scenario, whatever it was, was not part of that.
Ryan looked at Maeve in desperation, ‘Please …’
Yes. Please, Maeve. Don’t say something that will tear my life apart.
But she ignored our pleas and said the words that somehow I knew were coming. ‘I’m so sorry, Lucy. I’ll never forgive myself, not to the day I die. But the baby is Ryan’s.’
35
BEA
February 2020
Nellie’s Pub, Kilmore Quay, Wexford
As my Aunt Lucy sorted out a pint of Guinness for her customer, I messaged Dad to tell him that I’d met her. I watched three dots appear and then disappear beside his name. I had almost finished my bottle of Corona by the time he came back to me with a short message: ‘That’s great, tell her I said hi.’
My something-was-off radar was ding-ding-dinging like crazy.
‘I bought you another beer,’ Lucy said, rejoining us. ‘And I’ll join you too, I think.’ She lifted her bottle up and gulped a third down in one thirsty swig. She liked beer too. It pleased me more than it should.
‘You know, if you’d given me a hundred guesses as to what I’d be doing today, sitting in a bar, drinking a beer with my niece and her friends, wasn’t one of them,’ Lucy said.
The Moon Over Kilmore Quay Page 24